Copied from a worth a read:its what footy is about! My Day Out With The Peaky Blinders Twenty five days into January and its three wins and two draws so far for Albion. Not bad for a team which traditionally rolls over and has its belly tickled at this time of year. It hasnt been pretty or exciting. But thoroughly effective. The Pulis effect is in full flow. The sharpening of minds, focus and work ethic enforced is akin to when Roy Hodgson first landed at The Hawthorns. That wasnt exhilarating or thrilling either. But like Hodgson, Pulis does what it says on the tin. Hes also taking the cup seriously. Fielding all but a full strength team in both rounds so far. Pulis is a manager who knows how to work his crowd. He says the right things at the right time. In less than a month hes completely galvanised a club which was in dire need of direction and dynamic stewardship. Im not a season ticket holder right now. So my chances of getting a ticket for Blues were even slimmer than the rejuvenated 19,000 who scrambled for 5,500 tickets a couple of weeks back. But I had to be at St Andrews yesterday. And like Id imagine many Baggies did, I managed to get hold of a couple of tickets in the Blues end. Not an ideal situation, but there were plenty of silver linings to be taken from this particular cloud. Albion fans are my people. My religion. And the thrill of being able to watch the congregation from afar was enticing. The notion of listening to the songs I love to sing myself being belted out by the best part of 6,000 fans enchanting and invigorating. Yeah, Id have to sit on my hands, keep my big gob shut. Tell my lad to do the same. The 20 odd year old me probably wouldve struggled. But Im too long in the tooth for any bother these days. Any antanising is limited to Twitter and the Internet! Most of my childhood friends are Blue Noses. Typical gob shite Brummie types. Got an answer for everything, know it alls. But with that absolute hearts of gold. My lad Jake age nine and I got the train from Stourbridge and headed for the city. Same route as for any home game but unusually passing by the Hawthorns, through The Jewellery Quarter and into Snow Hill. You can see The Old Contemptibles from the platform. My Blues friends are already in there. They have been since noon. Which I find strange as all Ive heard all week is how they couldnt care less about the Albion, and how weve only sold out because its Blues blah blah Peaky Blinder Blah. Yet surprisingly Blues have sold out too. In fact for the first time since the play off game against Blackpool in 2012. Here cause its Albion, youre only here cause its Albion?! The banter starts before Ive even been served. Look at that big building Coach Dave, thats a skyscraper! Well be going to the ground in a big taxi, we have big black cabs here you know! These exchanges continue. Briefly punctuated with pleasant chats with fellow Albion fans. The pub was absolutely packed. I asked my Blues mates if it was always this way? One replies quietly. No, its full of Albion. We moved on to another pub, this one full of Blues fans. And didnt leave until 2.35pm. Way out my comfort zone. But this is how the company I was keeping rolled. Sure enough, our taxi rocked up to St Andrews by 2.45pm. After a bit of jostling and queuing we we were in our seats in The Tilton Corner by 2.59pm. Perfect. The Blues fans were lairy, boisterous and aggressive. But very fair. The way they stood in unison on the 9th minute was incredible. It actually brought a tear to my eye. Phenomenal respect. Every single one of them. Utterly unconditional. Brilliant. I honestly found myself thinking, you know what, if there was no Albion this would probably be my club. Its not Albion, but the closest thing. Maybe a bit like Mars and Earth or something like that? Ive certainly never been moved in such a way at any of our other rivals homes. Big Vic pounces, and then Big Vic pounces again. A properly weird experience. Both goals hit the net in slow motion. The Albion fans behind the goal in the distance dont erupt for between one and two seconds after weve seen the ball hit the net. Jake and I share a smile, not a beam. A quick glance, a nod, without letting anyone else see. The Boinging starts behind the goal. We look on in awe. Half jealous were not in the thick of it. Half delighted to be able to encounter this spectacle. You dont need a match report for the rest of the game, we all know how it panned out. The stand out moment of the second half for me was when Ben Foster came on. Once again, impeccable respect from the Noses. It would have been so easy for them to boo him. Not a bit of it. Class. After the game we battle for the exits. Though relatively new, St Andrews already feels rustic and dated. Not a bad thing at all in many respects. But a nightmare to get out of all the same. We make our way towards the city, our Blue Nose mates to their credit waiting outside the ground despite the result. Hands up, had it been me, I may well have already been in the pub. Walking down hill towards Digbeth, its dark and the city is illuminated. Ive been to a lot of big cities around the world. And Birmingham is no Manhattan, but you know what, its still pretty impressive and imposing in its own way. Some Albion fans were even taking photos. Much to the amusement of my Blues friends. Theres no Sears or CN Towers, or Chrysler Buildings but its not down town Oldbury or Blackheath either. The next part was stereo type Brum. We enter the moodiest, darkest and dingiest pub you could imagine. But what it lacks in lighting it makes up for in character and warmth. Apparently its the oldest boozer in the city. Some 700 odd years old. Inside its packed. Eddie Grants Electric Avenue blares through the sound system, then early UB40 reggae type tunes. Its ace. The clientele look like theyre auditioning for extras in Peaky Blinders the movie. Outside its proper urban. Urban retro Brummie life personified. If Musical Youth had walked past with a Ghetto blaster on their shoulders they wouldnt have looked out of place. If Dexys Midnight Runners had been propping up the bar in their denim dungarees nobody would have batted an eye lid. This is retro, stereotypical Birmingham at its best. All I needed was a programme with the names Blake, Hartford, Dennis et al on the back. Its getting late. Well late considering Ive got a 9 year old with me anyway. We leave and make out way back to Snow Hill. Straight through the Bull Ring Centre and on to the train. This has been some experience for a 9 year old boy. Im gonna get it in the neck from his mom when I get home about what is suitable for 9 year old children, but I dont care. Where else is he going to receive a cultural education like this? Hes just experienced an Albion away day hell never forget. Ever. And that pricless. All eyes on the draw tomorrow night now. Lets hope theres another adventure in store. Home or away. This cup runs got some life in it yet. Long may the cup fever continue!
Posted on: Mon, 26 Jan 2015 23:55:29 +0000
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