I’d love to say what a pleasure it was to walk in to the Memorial Stadium last night with my now unbanned friend Kevin Spencer. Well, I would loved to have said it had Kevin not decided to stand on the other side of the pitch from me! I saw him for a cider before and after the game so I can’t complain. And it was good to be back, full stop.
Not having seen Bristol Rovers for three and a half years, I had no idea what to expect. I had never seen one of the players in a Rovers shirt, with the exception of Chris Lines (whose late father was a good friend of Kevin), so I was able to approach the game with an open mind. And, for what it is worth, I was very impressed.
This was what I had been missing: a fit, hungry, confident, well-drilled side, who keep the ball on the floor. Compared to the dross served up in the Paul Buckle era, Rovers were a pound shop Barcelona. The visitors Hartlepool were truly terrible but that’s beside the point. In winning 4-1 last night – and it could have been a bigger margin that that – it was obvious to me that this was a team going places. With two or three key additions, this looked a side that could compete in League One, never mind League Two. That was my not exactly learned judgement on the basis of one game against a side destined for the Conference and I could be horribly wrong, but that was my first impression.
It was SO good to see many old friends and acquaintances. In fact, it was the highlight for me because missing out on the comradery was the worst part of not being there. Walking to my usual place on the West Stand Enclosure reminded me of the days of the early 2000s when my entire life revolved around the club. If little had changed in terms of the faces, nothing had changed about the ground. The pitiful, inadequate toilet facilities, the mediocrity of the terrace catering, the useless PA system, the embarrassing half time draws, the dated rugby clubhouse bars are all still there, a reminder, if any were needed, that the new stadium is needed now more than ever.
There were other things that had not changed, not least the inability of anyone on the terraces to understand the offside law and the ability of the Blackthorn End to rip into the unfortunate opposition goalkeeper with great humour. Both made for great entertainment.
The experience seemed to pass by in a heartbeat and soon, after an essential post match pint, it was time to go. The last time I had left a football match there was some 42 months ago. I won’t be leaving it quite so long next time! My decision to abandon the drudgery of full time employment in favour of non lucrative but personally rewarding part time work inevitably means new financial priorities and going to every single home game, and the odd away one, as I used to do, is no longer an option. But I’ll definitely be back when I can.
