Yesterday, I saw scenes I’ve never before witnessed at a football match. Whatever I write this week simply cannot do justice to what happened. It wasn’t simply an amazing football experience, it was an amazing LIFE experience.
We all know what panned out. The Super Reds, after being bottom at New Year, have fought and fought and here we are now, with our reward – Championship football for another season. What a season it’s been and what a game it was.
Being the last day, the beers were out in force on the train up. Even Mr Marshall left the school books at home and hit the Leffe early. Of course, a 12:45 KO in Huddersfield didn’t really lend itself to a visit pre-match to the pub, and problies a good job too, since the (West Yorks police?) idea was to limit Reds fans to ONE pub in town and (allegedly) attempted to force any Reds fan they came across into said pub. Nevermind health and safety issues INSIDE the pub, as long as fans weren’t fighting OUTSIDE.
So it was that we arrived in Hudds and I nipped off to the loo, only to bump into Matt, 1 of only 2 Huddersfield fans I know. We both agreed we’d be very happy were both sides to stay up. If only we knew what would come…
To the stadium, Sarah, Salisbury and I timed it nicely to coincide with the main Barnsley mob getting a police escort. You heard them before you saw them! This set it up nicely – I was worried the atmosphere in the ground would be muted, both sets of fans too tense to sing. How wrong this was as well. Fantastic noise throughout from the Barnsley, even when their goals went it. It was one of those days when everyone knew they had to do their bit.
From the off, both sides went at each other. This was no cagey game. We had to win and we took it to them. Still, it came as a surprise when O’Grady stroked it home at the far end. From our angle, you had no idea it was on target till it hit the net. Pandemonium. ‘WE ARE STAYING UP, WE ARE STAYING UP’. Town fans looked shellshocked. Even more so when news came through that Posh were winning while Millwall was scoreless. Town were going down. Fast and furious as the game was, we spent most of the half clearly being the superior side and probably should have cemented victory there and then. As it was, nobody complained as the players went off a goal to the good. Even better, Palace had equalised just before half time. A win for them and we could even escape with a draw.
Hudds brought on a couple of players at half time (ironically, one of the lads taken off was Norwood, our main transfer target last summer) and we were on the back foot from the off. Steele made a super save, one-on-one and just as we wondered when Barnsley would get a grip, Hudds scored. We can’t say it wasn’t coming, but the manner of it was annoying. Crainie and Wiseman had been superb in the 1st half and this goal seemed to go straight down the middle of them. Ho hum. At least they’d scored early enough for us to go hunt a winner. Never did I think Hudds would dominate as they had done and so it proved. For the whole half, momentum went with who NEEDED to score rather than whoever HAD scored.
Dagnall cut inside and from 18 yards struck it towards the far corner . A goal all the way, I was right behind it. Damn it if the keeper didn’t tip it round the post. Then Dawson had the chance of the game saved. He dummied the player, let it run in front of him then hit it on the turn across the keeper. Another great save, though if truth be told it looked the shot of a tired player (yet Dawson wasn’t subbed for another 20 mins). I was now seriously worried. Would we get another chance like it?
As time ticked away, Scotland and Noble-Lazarus were sent on to save the situation, Daggers and Mellis making way. I mused to Sarah how I could foresee Reuben hitting a sweet volley from the edge of the area off a cleared corner. So you can imagine how perplexed I was when we GOT that corner and Reuben had to trot back to the halfway line as cover for every other bod piling into the box. You could see this wasn’t planned – he looked around and realised if he didn’t do it, nobody else would. And the ball? Yes, it was cleared to the edge of the area, exactly where Reuben should’ve been.
But lo and behold. Perkins gets free on the left (we’d done this 3 or 4 times without reward) and pulls it back for Scotland to head a low ball into the back of the net. Did I say it was pandemonium when the 1st one went in? This was CARNAGE. We were (literally) falling over ourselves while worried Terriers looked on. (Note: worried about their own situation, not our health and safety.) YOU’RE NOT SINGING ANYMORE. The volume was off the scale. Town meantime were going down. Posh were winning, Washday were winning, Millwall were drawing. Only 15 minutes left. Could we hold on? Have a guess.
7 minutes of jubilation turned to utter, utter despair as Town equalised again. A lost tackle in midfield and Huddersfield looked like 2 on 1. Could they possibly, possibly miss? PLEASE! No. No, they couldn’t. Vaughan fires in and we’re staring relegation in the face. There was no way Palace were going to rescue us, we NEEDED another goal. And we huffed…and we puffed…and we couldn’t force the ball in. We had the corners, we had the shots, we had a free kick. We were doomed. The fans roared, there was no self pity, no sitting, head in hands, waiting for relegation. It was all or nothing as everyone got behind the team. News came in. Palace had equalised. There was a glimmer of hope, but still minds were focused on the task in hand. Then the unthinkable became thinkable. More news filtering in. Palace had scored again. Reds fans started jumping around, celebrating. Apart from me. I’ve been here before and I’m not trusting anything approaching a scoreline rumour ever again after THAT year the Oakwell PA announced we’d made the play-offs (we hadn’t; a last minute goal elsewhere saw to that). Mobile and internet reception was next to zero, so no confirmation there either and the only thing Huddersfield appear to use their scoreboard for are adverts. (An ‘advertboard’?)
But then I saw THE most bizarre piece of football I have EVER seen. The ball went back to Steele, and Hudds, with a draw keeping them safe, didn’t bother closing him down. I could see Flitcroft telling Steele to keep the ball, calm down. So it was TRUE – Palace were winning (had won?) And for nearly 2 minutes you had the queer sight of Steele dribbling the ball around to himself while every other player was stood on the halfway line. Meantime, Town fans were encroaching onto the pitch to our right. And all round the ground the chant went up ‘YORKSHIRE! YORKSHIRE!’ The ref blew. Both sides had done it – they’d stayed up. I could even forgive the half dozen or so Terriers who had earlier been waving pictures of Margaret Thatcher at us. (Nice try lads.)
The players legged it off the pitch and on came the Town hoardes. The thin orange line that were the stewards spread out to our front as Huddersfield came towards us. But they came not in menace, but in joy, as both sets of fans continued chanting ‘Yorkshire! Yorkshire’ with a cheeky aside of ‘We all hate Leeds scum’. It was a complete Yorkshire love-in as the fans applauded each other.
Then, with their fans still at our end, the SUPER REDS circled round the pitch to take their acclaim. The job had been done and you could see what it meant to this squad of players. Last up came the manager. And didn’t he look proud as he took the applause as we walked in a ‘Flitcroft wonderland’? And so he should be. Can you give Manager of the Year to someone who’s only done the job for half a season? The players danced and celebrated with each other and Jim O’Brien put on one of them there Jamaican beanie hats that many Reds fans were wearing for the day. And with the Hudds fans having been cleared off the pitch (presumably for their players to do a lap of honour) the last thing I saw before leaving was Sir Bobby coming onto the pitch. A fitting end, I think. ‘Oh Bobby Hassell, you are the love of my life….’
So, Salisbury, Sarah and I strolled to Tesco for the beers as policemen congratulated us and shook hands and fans of both teams floated down the road on an air of…what’s it called? That thing we as Barnsley fans are so unused to. That’s it – JOY! We’ve been to Wembley, won play-off games, won at Anfield, won promotion to the Premiership, but this feeling (which I still have) is something else. I have never been through so many emotions in a single game. We have battled and battled this season and I am PROUD to describe myself as a Barnsley fan.
MOTM? Oh yeah…
*** Perkins. Thought he was everywhere. Got in their faces, covered Dawson when Scannell exposed his lack of pace and, most crucially, got into the attack to set up the 2nd goal.
** O’Grady. Held onto everything and like every other big centre forward we ever have, gets absolutely nothing from the ref, however much they’re pushing, pulling, etc
* No-one. Not that no-one deserved it, I just can’t pick a player from the rest. It was a fabulous effort throughout, from everyone.
Despatches. The lads were superb. The match stats say it all – we deserved to win. Everything was in our favour: possession 53-47, shots 11-6, on target 8-3, corners 5-1. (Note to Andy Jones: I’ve just looked that up – I can’t remember EVERYTHING!) I know everyone’s gonna say we got lucky with that late Palace goal, but it would’ve been a travesty to go down on THAT performance and THAT run from January.
Drinks du jour: Champagne, spiced rum and ginger ale, vodka and orange, Fosters (not me). Celebration time, come on! Then onto London for an intended pitstop at the Flying Scotsman, but here’s where it all fell apart. After a beer in Caminos, Tim, Matty and Salisbury disappeared, Andy got chatting to a girl in a Barnsley shirt (yes, a real life GIRL. I believe she was visiting London with her job and was wearing her Reds shirt in celebration.) Anyway, I don’t know how I got that pint down my neck, cos when I went to the toilet I realised how drunk I was and went home. And yes, for the 1st time since moving house and the last time this season, I fell asleep on the bus and had to be awoken at the end of the line by the driver. Where I proceeded to cross the road, watch the bus turn around, and got back on again. And while everyone else couldn’t sleep BEFORE the Hudds match, I found myself up at 7:30 this morn having not been able to get back to sleep. This adrenaline rush is still going. I may collapse later on…
DON’T WORRY…’BOUT A THING…COS EVERY LITTLE THING’S….GONNA BE ALRIGHT!
YOOOOOUUUUU REDDDDDSSSSSSSSS!!!!!
