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| Welcome to...the Tottenham 'burbs. |
I'm back up to 91 of 92 following this trip to the racket that is Tottingham Hotspur. For all the positive vibes they've received over the last few years from their policy of playing English players, to their European Cup Final venture, they remain a business obsessed with making money. Sharp practices tonite included charging a £7 booking fee for the tickets (£1 for members) and a staggering £10 to put a bag in a tent. You have been warned. (As an aside, in Germany...where everything is better....if they don't let you bring your bags in, they'll have a portacabin where it's free, or a charge you a nominal €1).
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| You cannot make this up. |
It started well. Prices for this match were capped at £20. Spurs season ticketholders, not exactly enamoured with Jose Mourinho, stayed away in droves, to be replaced by debutants such as me, and the lapsed Essex Spurs fans we met on the train afterwards. This was one for the tourists, though I'd initially tried to get tickets in the Boro end, worried the home end would sell out. Instead, it was the other way around, as Boro sold out as soon as they went on general sale, though an allocation of barely 3,000 was surely below what they were entitled. Did Boro not request their full entitlement? Or have the rules changed? Didn't teams used to be allowed 25%, or 20% of capacity?
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| Boro players giving thanks to their corner at full-time. |
Anyway, tickets bought, at something like the 12th time of trying. The site kept crashing on my devices, but I finally got through on my partner's. I'd aimed to be at the opposite end to that giant one-tiered home end, but the website ground me down. I eventually just clicked on the 'best tickets available' option and was given a pair high up in the home end.
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| The view from behind the goal. |
My partner for the night, Loko, suggested we meet in Hackney for pre-match beer. This was perfect, as we had craft ale at the Pembury Tavern, a place I hadn't frequented since working in Hackney...oooh....20 years ago...for the council. (I was sacked/didn't have my contract renewed. Little Boss said Big Boss didn't like me arguing with him. Naive little old me thought that if you knew a better way to do things, bosses would be receptive to said ideas. Like I said, I was a bit naive back then. Best stick to telling bosses they're doing a grand job, even if they aren't). Anyway, White Hart Lane station is 10 mins away from Hackney Downs. Genius. And you avoid drinking in Tottenham (another place I used to work, till I was offered a month's wage to leave. 'Can I have that in writing?' I did.)
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| Chicken on a basketball (but check out those curves!) |
Ah, great days. That Tottenham place didn't like me telling a customer that they were right to complain, our service was shocking. (It was a telecommunications company who appeared to only promote people based on being a particular religion. I'll say no more.) It was there I once got so drunk after work that I hoofed a rat in the high street 10 yards, as it came running toward me at midnight. Best connection I've ever made.
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| Local map showing all the sights (one). |
I digress. The bag thing. Ten whole pounds. And I seriously considered just taking a carrier bag, but I thought it'd be ok...be like Arsenal...get a bag search and a tag on it to say you're not a terrorist. But no, anything remotely resembling anything bigger than a lady's handbag was refused entry. Loko had his laptop with him, so we'd have always needed to bring in one bag, which we did, as I stuffed mine in his. We then queued for 45 minutes in the wind and rain to put it in said tent, as only 3 out of 9 staff had bothered to turn up. (I'm not knocking them; minimum wage for 3 or 4 hours in the cold???) So we missed kick-off, and the 1st goal, one-nil Spurs.
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| Bag ladies (and men) BEHIND us. |
Luckily, we were in for the second, in the 15th minute, which is more than could be said for the 100 or so people behind us in the queue. As we walked around the upper concourse, we could see the queue for bags still snaking onto the road below. 2-0 Spurs, half time (the second a smart finish from Lamela) and time for a beer. Now, I'm sure you know Spurs have the longest bar in the world, 'parallel to the goalline' Loko said. Aren't all bars behind the goal 'parallel to the goalline'? Anyway, we were upstairs. A pokey little bar took us all of half-time to get a beer, but we weren't bothered, we'd ticked off a ground, so we missed 20 minutes of the second half supping.
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| If by 'to do' one means 'to not winning anything' |
If we'd managed to get in earlier, we could have enojoyed any of the numerous bars on the ground floor. It looks almost shopping-centre like, which I'm not sure is good or bad. Certainly, it's a lot more plush than the usual breezeblock Central of many a stadium, but on the other hand...it looks like a shopping centre.
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| I do like the artwork about the place. |
The game looked sewn up, but with 7 minutes left, Boro scored. A flutter of worry reached the home end, but Spurs soon put their foot on the ball and the danger passed. The only question was how early to leave, to beat the rush. We stayed, thereby beating the rush. Why do folk leave early? Good news on the bag front too, as it only took about 5 minutes to pick them/it up. But I won't be bringing my bag again. In fact, I may not come again, nice ground or not.*
*I considered the 4th round replay v Southampton. 'Only' 25 quid...but with that £7 booking fee, we're now over 30 quid. No ta.
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| Time to go home. |
The Damage (for 2):
£40 ent
£7 booking fee (non-members)
£10 bag drop
£10 2 pints
= £67
=£33.50 each.
The Tunes:
NME Singles of the Week 1993 (Various)
If You're Feeling Sinister (Belle and Sebastian)
Drone Logic (Daniel Avery)
Fabric 84 (Mathew Jonson)
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| Tottenham Hotspur Stadium. |
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| Goal! to someone. Spurs' 2nd. My 1st. |
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| Full-time. |
