“And IIIIIIIIIIIIII will always loooooove youuuuuuuuu,” rings out in a not very melodic fashion around Clarence Park.
It was a cold and spectacularly WET evening for the visit of Welling and Whitney Houston was on trend on the terraces. Pretty much just that line. That could have been a bit dull but in the interests of variety it was interspersed with, “oooh Sammy Sammy”, a heartfelt but once again lyrically limited homage to Sam Merson to the tune of that Wilson Pickett classic, “Sugar Sugar”.
It wasn’t clear what was inspiring this new musical interlude – water on the brain? Or more likely Carlsberg on special offer? The former certainly doesn’t make winter week night football very attractive and comfort levels were further reduced by a certain lack of preparation on the part of TLF, who was armed with a very small brolly that offered minimal protection to its owner and was dwarfed by the rather more practical and companion-friendly beast of an umbrella, wielded by Julie.
Umbrella ownership may keep you dry (well ish) but it does dampen (BOOMBOOM!) your celebrations in response to your team’s goal scoring exploits. Umbrellas are an awkward shape, with spiky bits and they occupy one arm. As a result you can’t indulge in the usual manic celebrations; instead you have to make do with a small jig and a shake of the aforementioned parapluie…Gene Kelly would be turning in his grave at our lack of finesse and movement. You also can’t eat, in a very neat or satisfactory fashion, a bacon cob when holding an umbrella. Fortunately Julie is on hand (see what I did there) and able to oversee two umbrellas so TLF can be briefly undercover and yet hands free thus avoiding loss of any bacon, bread or stray onions.
The other fortunate thing about this damp Tuesday evening in Hertfordshire was that the Mighty Saints put the ball in the net three times, while the opposition could only manage it twice. There is probably a water-related joke in there about leaky defences but I don’t want to push my luck.
By the end of the game my feet are numb, my work trousers have proved to not be ideal winter terrace wear and my rucksack, which cannot fit under the protective umbrella zone, is so wet it will take 24 hours to dry out but I have just seen a first win in seven games. And that’s why a damp Tuesday evening really can be the greatest love of all. I’m not so emotional that I want to dance with somebody (I couldn’t…the brolly would get in the way) but come on, it is only one moment in time….Now what’s that about water on the brain?
St Albans 3 Welling Utd 2
Consumption: 1 bacon cob, 2 bargain priced Carlsbergs
Losing bits of soggy paper shoved in a pocket: 10 raffle, 1 goalden goal