Monday night and things are about to move as far away from Graham Kelly’s velvety ball bag as possible. Two asinine presenters are going about their business, which appears to be patronising their normal viewers in to submission. Outside in a car park there are a lot of people in replica shirts who are about to joyfully shake hands. It’s like a dystopian novel where man-made fibre has taken over the world and started to melt people’s brains. Welcome to the cup fifth round draw.
Who did we want? “Someone shit at home” wrote my running mate Darren on NSC. And so it happened, a League Two side at The Amex. Female Vacuous Presenter announced gleefully that “Hove Albion would play Coventry City” and found a Coventry fan to interview about it. His kid spent the whole time trying to throw up over a cardboard replica.
But Coventry weren’t always shit. Under the less than glorious reign of SISU they have become a League Two team, had to groundshare with Northampton, and seen more and more of their current ground given over to use by a “London” rugby team. Their Number 27, Josh Barrett, looked like he’d been borrowed from said rugby club’s front row instead of Reading. We may complain about the train service but at least we can use it on match days.
Yet this was a club who won the cup in 1987 and for most of my youth were as permanent a fixture in the top flight as Everton. The Boy was born in 2006. In that season Coventry finished 17th in The Championship. We finished 18th in League One. Yet, because if his age, he thinks of them as a little club. It has to be said I have a great deal of sympathy for them. They’ve been through very similar to us.
Not so much sympathy that I didn’t want to beat them in to the dust mind you. Thanks to the way the club sold tickets we were in the North Stand, The Boy for the first time. The sun was shining and we’d been pretty much promised Locadia would start. I had a genuine spring in my step on the ten yard walk to the car, since the Coastway West was shut to trains and Steve’s wife had kindly offered us a lift to Brighton Station.
From there a train to The Amex full of noisy Cov fans on the sauce, determined to enjoy their day out. I paused to buy a pair of blue home shorts to use in next week’s Brighton Half and then we entered the hallowed area of the North Stand, which looked like it had been taken over by a Farmer’s Market. A true eye opener for the WSU regular. These people have a SPECIALIST pastry area. They have artisan looking pizzas. They have tiny beer queues and yet EVERYONE is drinking. I considered asking for a permanent move.
Once out – and kick off was delayed for 15 minutes – the reason for picking the WSU again became obvious. The atmosphere where we were was excellent and I do love watching from an end. It was the default growing up, Goldstone North Stand at home and away “end” away. Only recently have clubs started to shunt the away fans in to a distant corner. Plus, when I played, I was a centre back – I’m used to seeing the ball come towards me. But still the view was not great. Some people standing, some sitting (make your minds up) and the crossbar sort of in the way. And it’s much harder to spot tactical changes and how close players are to the far goal. Which is why I’m blethering away. The game passed by in a pleasant but undiscernible mush of beer, song and pastry.
We did, though, have a lot of changes, but also a very strong side with Locadia and Ulloa starting up front. It took the Dutchman hardly any time at all to make his mark. From a corner he swung the loose ball on to a post, missing out on a debut goal by inches. Then Coventry nearly took the lead from a set piece, hitting the bar. But just 15 minutes in our man had his goal. Knockaert, who’d been wasteful up to then hit a low cross (did he mean it? – couldn’t tell from the NS) and Locadia was first to react, driving home from close range. Ladies and gents, we have us a striker.
He could have had a first half hat trick, air slicing a March cut back and sliding agonisingly wide from another low cross. It was up to Goldson to make the whole place relaxed though, adding a second with a header from a corner and stuffing the ball up his shirt in a manner that suggested his good lady may be expecting.
The game was put to bed with one of those moments that made me glad we’d picked exactly the seats we did. Knocky back to Bruno, an excellent diagonal cross and That Man From Argentina got another goal at The Amex, right in front of us with a trade mark header. A thing of beauty, The Boy loving it. After that we sat back and had the odd break but it was job done, despite a consolation goal from the excellent Clarke-Harris who’s bothered us all game, drilling a loose ball low in to the South goal sparking celebrations that saw a smoke cannister and one of their Neds being led out by stewards the way the bouncers at The Gloucester used to chuck out moshers during a Nirvana record back in the day. Baldock, on for Locadia, hit the angle of bar and post in return and that was that.
My reward, later that evening was a most excellent gig by the man himself Paul Weller. Our reward, as I was sat in the pre-gig bar, was a trip to Man U. Oh well, at least there was no walking female answer to Hello magazine calling us “Hove Albion”.