It’s a long time since I have received this many sympathy texts. The last time is indelibly marked in the memory…it is funny that isn’t it? Can’t remember my pin for our newly opened joint account (and it is soooo easy apparently) but an end of season heart breaking bit of misery at Vicarage Road? Like it only happened five minutes ago. Anyway I digress…..no change there then. So, the texts. Most of them were on Sunday as my mates haven’t quite got the hang of chasing down the scorelines from Clarence Park.

But my texty and lovely friends, do not judge a book by its cover or indeed my state of mind after an 8-1 home defeat, as there was more to Satday than meets the eye. Yes our FA Cup dream is over for another year but the devil is in the detail. We were 1-0 up until the 41st minute and until the 70th you still thought a favourable result of some sort was possible; we were playing good football, it wasn’t all Mansfield Town. But then our refusal to not stop going for it (the right thing in my eyes), the experience of a team that are full time pros and several leagues above the mighty Saints and Lady Luck buggering off early all combined to bring this year’s FA Cup adventure to a brutal end.

Worth it though? Oh yes. I feel privileged to have rocked up and been embraced by St Albans in a season when for the first time in 33 years they played league opposition at home in the FA Cup. Rather than being one in amongst 300-odd at the weekend I was one in amongst 3251-exact. And while that does mean the queue for the bar is heart-breakingly long, it can only be good for the club and the sight of people queuing back over the railway bridge to get in was something I won’t forget in awhile – definitely not before I forget that bloody PIN again anyway. I even saw the away turnstile in action. I understand it hasn’t been used in about 10 years. A lost opportunity for sponsorship by WD40 maybe?

I do worry though that this defeat might have been less Stag induced and more smugFox affected. I had lunch with a good mate of mine during the week before the game – a TATTPIB fan – who told me that they were looking verrrry good. Well I thought, both teams at home, with amazing home form, playing teams from Nott******shire, got to be worth a cheeky double with Mr W.Hill. When will I learn?? Bet on your own team, or as we now know, bet on the team you are going cold turkey on as well and it tends to go t*ts up.

Sorry folks. Lesson learned. The only shame in Hertfordshire this week is my refusal to learn from my betting failures over the years and there is certainly no shame whatsoever at Clarence Park. Onwards and upwards for the mighty Saints. Walking PAST the betting shop for yours truly.

Match Stats
St Albans 1 Mansfield Town 8
Attendance 3251
Bacon fries consumed 1 packet
Lager consumed 1 bottle Stella (see reference to bar queue)
Raffle tickets purchased 10 Prizes won 0
Losing golden goal tickets purchased 1

Thing I Learnt This week
See betting confession.

The Stepping-away-from-the-bookies Lost Fox

According Charlotte Bronte, consistency is the first of Christian duties. Well all can I say is if that is a duty then I am going to shirk it. You see I’m starting to think that the concept of consistency is a smidgen or a tad (not sure of the conversion rate between smidgens and tads but you get my drift) over-rated. It tends to be mentioned in a positive context but as I was contemplating life the universe and everything while waiting for a commuter train home to St Albans (consistently late) I did start to question the consistency that has been wending its way into the Fox’s life in the last week.

The Mighty Saints conceded another heart-breaking last minute equaliser at home. CONSISTENT
I spend 30 mins in a telephone queue to an energy supplier, only to find out that the advice they gave me last time was bobbins and I had wasted 30 mins of my life. CONSISTENT
An IT upgrade leaves me with email and internet misery. CONSISTENT

You get my drift.

But there was a glimmer of hope on the consistency front this weekend, in my newly established, temporary (fear not Mr Chairman, it’s not for real, it just makes the blog flow better) extra terracing at Clarence Park – the Snack Van end. Consistency of a happier kind was alive and well. Andy Olive, purveyor of the perfect bacon cob (we will leave the ‘cob’ v ‘roll’ debate for another day) and other fried comestibles is consistently at every home game and so sees every match from a certain angle, and generally between burgers. I thought it was time I took in that view, although I obviously skipped the cooking burgers element and stood just in front. (Could you imagine me in a small box surrounded by hot food, hot grills, having to be polite to people while watching football?…Nah me neither. A Health and Safety disaster waiting to happen.)

Accompanied by the gentle and comforting waft of fried food, the view isn’t bad, and while you’re not getting the same banter as if you were behind the goal, there is plenty to observe and it is all quite…CONSISTENT
The menu, with the bacon cheeseburger being a clear favourite, doesn’t change. No faffing about with ‘specials’
The inability of punters to spot the tables where the sauce and milk sit seems all pervading…..”OVER THERE FOR EFFS SAKE”, I wanted to shout. But I didn’t, I am saving my shouting for the apple store (and I am not talking a stall that sells braeburns).

The formation behind the counter only varies slightly; between the deployment of lone striker/chef role, (because it’s a school night or he doesn’t think the crowd will be big) or the dream team of him and his good wife Jo.
The constant flow of punters, peaking either side of both kick off and half time.
The average time Andy actually gets to watch the game – 2 minutes I reckon.

The patter – friendly, unassuming, perfectly pitched and probably more than we sometimes deserve. Queue jumpers get a friendly warning that they need to join the back of the queue, “I don’t want that lot tipping me van over” as he gestures to a group of small children and pensioners.
Plus the weekly brief discussion of the fortunes of Chelsea and our shared despair at the state of the modern game.
See…. CONSISTENT

“Happy days” as the man who sells me my well done bacon cob and humours me when I ask him daft questions for this blog, would say. Well if my IPad is cured, I get the energy tariff of my choice without having to listen to any more effing hold music AND we make it through against Mansfield then Satday (as we say in Lesta) truly will be a happy day.

Match stats
St Albans 3 Billericaaaaay 3
Attendance 313
Bacon fries consumed 1
Lager consumed 2 halves (Friday was a big night, honest)
Raffle tickets purchased 10 Prizes won 0
Losing golden goal tickets purchased 1

Thing I Learnt Today
NEVER look at your golden goal ticket upside down. If you have no 6 and the goal was scored in the 9th minute, then your hopes will be raised and then cruelly dashed. And vice versa.

Consistently Grumpy Fox

Well that’s my away debut successfully negotiated with the mighty Saints overcoming Chatham to make it into the first round Proper of the FA Cup. I’d love to know what it would be like in the first round Improper. Maybe the balls are square or the game follows a different set of rules or there are large levels of impropriety or…maybe I shouldn’t continue flogging this rather weak joke.

Sadly it couldn’t be the full away game experience which ought to entail starting with an 11.15am beer and the early train along with the hardcore support. Instead my unshakeable commitment to unpacking a few more boxes, or more realistically the fear that an early start would lead to me rolling back home a little (or more likely a lot) the worse for wear for a romantic meal with Mr Lost Fox, meant a later train. And thus sadly no opportunity to sample the ‘delights’ of Chatham (pop. 70,540). I did still have time to contemplate my pre-match preparation and was getting somewhat nervous as a brief sweep of the newsagents of St Albans left me empty handed in the bacon fries department. Coming off the subs bench were Marks and Spencer’s bacon rashers. The packet proudly announces that they are “full of flavour”. Really? Full of a flavour maybe but not a porky one. Fortunately a high quality scotch egg signed for a reasonable transfer fee from the Sourced Market at St Pancras upped the ante and gave the whole thing that hint of class that the FA Cup deserves.

First half saw us at the far end of the ground, on the grassy terraces with a dismantled shed/pile of concrete providing useful emergency facilities for those who had been drinking for awhile.

To be fair the purpose built ladies facilities weren’t bad. Shame the light wasn’t working (Note to self. Pack a torch for future away trips). The game wasn’t a classic and as I bemoaned a second half that was petering out I had to be reminded very sternly by John, exactly what I had said before kick off, ‘that I wanted the game over and won. I didn’t care about being entertained.’ Suitably admonished and recognising that A win is A win, I briefly admired the quality celebrations that were unfolding in the Saints end, before the aforementioned meal popped back into my head and I made a hasty exit. By the sounds of it celebrations were still going on by the time I was back in St Albans.

As if that wasn’t enough football action for one week there was a Monday night game to contend with. A welcome return for Smiths bacon fries (accept no substitutes) but to be honest after the magic of the Cup there was a bit of an after The Lord Mayors show kind of a feel to the evening. I know that puts me back in touch with my inner churl again but St Albans have not made it this far in the FA Cup since 2002 so a bit of a hangover for both players and fans was likely. Although I do accept that the league is our bread and butter (cliche alert) and of course a win is a win and 3 points, is 3 points (yep obviously), no matter if the game is a bit sluggish and it is all a bit COLD.

And that wasn’t the high point of the evening, let me assure you. Not only was I in the good company of Davie Mac, Richard and & Co; there was the small matter of my first raffle win. Yes I know I could have bought about 6 boxes of Celebrations with my raffle ticket spend to date but let me remind you…..A win is A win.

Match stats Saturday:
Chatham 0 St Albans 2
Attendance 849
Away Club Raffle Tickets purchased 0…Raffle loyalty
Bacon fries consumed 0 Those things were not bacon fries!
Lager consumed 1 pint M&S imitation Stella (not bad to be fair)

Match stats Monday:
St Albans 2 Hitchin Town 1
Attendance 355
Bacon fries consumed 1 heavenly packet
Additional item from Andy’s snack van 1 high quality bacon cob
Lager consumed 2 halves (cheers chaps)
Raffle tickets purchased 10 Prizes won 1 YEEEEEEESSSSSS!
Losing golden goal tickets purchased 1 (1 minute off for effs sake)

TILT
Wise words from the crew – don’t look at your golden goal ticket when you pull it out of the hat (well Tupperware box to be fair). Keep it folded and put it in your pocket. Check it when the first goal is scored. You don’t think about it and your interest is retained. Hmmmm. I’m not convinced but if it leads to win, I will withdraw my cynicism.

Raffletastic Mrs Fox

A last minute equaliser is a thing of great beauty. If, and it is a big, not-to-be-sniffed-at kind of a conjunction… IF it is your team scoring it. Then it is a jump and down, until you think you might revisit your pre-match snack kind of a moment. CONCEDE a last minute equaliser and for a split second, or maybe several hours, if you can’t let go, there is no point to life. You could have just had a pay-rise, delivered world peace or just moved to a house in St Albans (I have only done one of these in the last week. Clue: I am no richer and violence still seems to be occurring) but for that moment none of these will console you. For an extra frisson of misery make that an equaliser scored by one of your ex-players, in a game against your local rivals, who currently sit top of the league and you have to acknowledge that Shakespeare must have been talking about football when he said, “As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods. They kill us for their sport.”

Overly-dramatic and inappropriate quoting of the Bard? Oh probably, but it was my first home game as a genuine St Albans resident; the A414 derby. Yep Hemel Hempstead were in town. Apart from bringing a blue flare (it’s Clarence Park boys, not Camp Nou) their presence also bought out the best chants I have heard this season, or possibly ever, My TATTPIB days saw me witness many a local derby (the joy of living in the Midlands) and while they drew the loudest and most venomous choruses, there was never a great deal of originality, unless ‘sheep shagger’ is a more creative insult than I realise. But at Clarence Park last night, the various deficiencies of Hemel and the superiority of St Albans were illustrated in a variety of ways:

“Have you ever read a book?”
“We all shop in Waitrose la-la-la-la”
“We’ve got a cathedral, we’ve got a cathedral”
“You’ve got pigeons in your loft”

And my personal favourite

“You’re just a town planners nightmare”

Wit and creativity are alive and well on the terraces of St Albans and helping to make up for a slightly disappointing end to the game, as is bonhomie. The only thing better than sharing a hug with a random Scotsman after your team take the lead, is to then share a tot of whiskey from his hip flask. Cheers Davie Mac (and thus no longer random). And that’s after the pre-match beer and chat with Ray who as a life long supporter has some serious St Albans tales to be told. I also note that when Ray’s wife used to commute to London, he would pick her up from the station after work…must introduce Ray to Mr Lost Fox……

Match stats:
St Albans 2 Hemel Hempstead 2.
Attendance 667.
Raffle tickets purchased 10 Prizes won 0.
Losing golden goal tickets purchased 2 (one was only 3 minutes off!)
Bacon fries consumed 1 packet.
Additional item from Andy’s van 1. A bacon and cheese burger. Now officially known as the last minute equaliser burger.
Lager consumed 2.5 pints Stella (I know it was a school nite but hey these things happen)

Thing I Learned Today
In the unpacking stakes, the box with the hip flask just became a priority.
Sing-along-a Fox

Well I am sorry to have to contradict you Luke my old son but I think you will find that the Saints were not equal but superior to the (Tonbridge) Angels on Saturday and the home fans were most definitely in heaven (BOOMBOOM). Yep my first Saints cup upset as the alleged underdogs saw off the Skrill Conference South outfit, reaching the fourth qualifying round of the FA Cup, one game away from the first round PROPER, for the first time in 4 years (lucky fox?)

For me there is something about a cup match that makes a win that little bit more satisfying than a league victory. I am not being churlish, much as I like the word, I have no wish to be a churl. You see a ten-nil league win can do masses for your goal difference and your confidence, but if everyone around you in the league does the business, it can mean your league position doesn’t change. With a win in the FA Cup you’ve made it to another round, another sneaky step towards a Wemberlee final, a mere 8 rounds away by my reckoning. There is also a chance to play some glamour team from higher leagues and make them look a bit daft (or get a compete tonking I accept).

I have missed a couple of the team’s best outings this season so am not the most informed correspondent (you probably spotted that already) but for me it was the best game I have been to so far. Not like watching Brazil perhaps, but gutsy, with two well taken goals, a bit of niggle to spice things up, some shocking refereeing (the two may be related), final minutes that dragged and an exuberant home crowd, already plotting the route to the 3rd round proper. The best one I heard went Luton, Portsmouth, Wolves and I hope mentioning that doesn’t infringe its creator’s copyright.

There was of course no need to worry during those final minutes. All pre-match rituals had been observed so the there was no doubt about the final result. Mind you with a somewhat mischievous glint when serving me the hallowed bacon fries, John had said with a slow and sad shake of the head, “What would happen if we ran out of these hey?” Mind games in the bar – brutal. Anyway just to be on the safe side I have been using the interweb again and am relieved to see that eBay is awash with my lucky snack and I will be stockpiling them shortly.

I was not the only ex-wearer of the shirt of TATTPIB in attendance this weekend, Alan Smith was a VIP guest. Nice of the Herts Advertiser in their match report to highlight his mildly successful 8 years at some North London outfit, as they do need the profile. I do feel though it was a startling omission to not mention at all what must be the true highlight of his career, his glorious time at Filbert Street (217 appearances, 84 goals and one second Division championship). NO I can’t believe I typed that either.

After the magic of the cup my attention has turned domestic and currently my life is in boxes. I have foolishly not marked the box that contains my City shirt or scarf so there may be reports of a small unpacking meltdown in St Albans later this week. As long as they are discovered for my first away game of the season on Saturday then no rattles will be thrown out of prams….not that I would be able to locate my rattle either.

Match Stats:
St Albans 2 Tonbridge Angels 1.
Attendance 605 (the magic of the Cup).
Raffle Tickets purchased 10 Prizes won 0.
Losing Golden Goal ticket purchased 1.
Bacon Fries consumed 1 packet.
Additional bacon item from Andy’s van 1.
Lager consumed 1 pint Stella (queue too big at half time for more)

TILT
Refs are just as pants at this level as every other level of football. And yes I do know that without them be willing to officiate there would be no game blahblahblah.

The Boxed Fox

All boxed up and nowhere to go