We asked for your match reports chronicling your day
following City – and believe it or not, it was Wycombe fan
Oily Sailor who came up trumps with a bizarre account of his day
in Bristol, possibly penned after more than a taste of our local
apple juice. We’re not quite sure from reading it, but we
think he (or she!) mentions a football match in there somewhere…
If you want your experiences at a match published – not just the goals and red cards, but the whole experience - then send your report to firstname.lastname@example.org. We want to know about the away day adventures or home game fun before and after, what you think went right or wrong in the match, who played well, who had a stinker…and whether the ref needs directions to Specsavers. We’ll print the best one from each match – and you could win a prize, so get writing!
24/08/02 BRISTOL CITY 3 WYCOMBE WANDERERS 0
by Oily Sailor
They said that Margaret Thatcher could survive on just four hours sleep, they claimed that EMI-hating Prince could make do with a mere two hours of rest per night but these tyrants and clowns mean nothing to me. I am shaking my legs like a wistful skier waiting at the top of a shining mountain with Europe’s media hungry for some sort of error or a world record. It is all or nothing in these 21st century times and the pressure can be too much.
Anyway, the truth is that I slide into the capital of the West Country with a head full of ideas but a lack of sleep. To go into details would be unladylike and I am nothing if not coy. Let’s just say that as the late summer sun clips off the top of the Mendip Hills I am seeing heroic goals in my mind. The ego says victory but the id says “careful son”.
Bristol is a glimmering mass beneath my steady feet. The ChairMen have snookered themselves into town and it is up to us to wave our limbs like epileptics in a firefight. Lawrie wants to hear our backing and by God we shall give it. This is a time for Christian soldiers. I could do with a nap.
The ground is as red as ever. Football grounds absorb their team’s colours like a kitchen towel dipped into soup and Ashton Gate is no different. The luv-crew are nowhere to be seen – are they ever in town? We are the loyal footsoldiers marching into enemy territory and there can be little doubt the directors of each side are stark naked in an underground bunker making deals concerning the finishing league positions of the 2014-15 seasons. We are so powerless yet we go every week with our faces scrubbed and anecdotes bursting from our greedy mouths.
The game is an abortion of epic proportions. Bristol City are wildly too good for us and even the sight of cynical mercenary Mickey Bell lashing the ball into the net can barely raise a fury in the away end. People are mothering about future barbeques they might have, “Ooh is my Montego due for taxation? It damn well might be you know. Oh blast, have they scored again?” City sweep the ball around like a French exchange student playing Battleships and Wycombe are on the ropes. No, we’re beneath the rope.
To be fair, the West Country Giants are helped by the amount of room the Wycombe defence are giving them. “We need to be wary of MIKKY BELL and SCOTCH MURRIE” raged Sanchez before the game. Both players score, both are able to take press conferences during the second half without a player in vile yellow coming near them.
The some-say infamous death squad are at the pitch’s edge, nervous stewards scratching their boils as they contemplate what could only be a monumental pitch invasion. Think Gallipoli, think Carthage, just think of something. Wycombe stage a brief rally and test Phillips in the West Country Giants’ goal a few times. He is up to the task. He never wasn’t going to be.
As the death squad, the foot soldiers and the motherers file out into the juddering sunlight, happy Bristol heroes run to their loved ones and hug each other like little Tommy returning from the Somme with a gammy foot and a broken heart. The luv-crew are nowhere to be seen. Extending Sanchez’s contract? More than likely.
The walk to the town centre is quiet, broken by the sound of seagulls
screeching their victory cry. They peck hungrily at the corpse of
Wycombe’s 2002-03 campaign. Where is our Dr Frankenstein?
The luv-crew better have some contingency plans, I’m telling
you. I’m going to bed now and when I wake up…
26/8/02 PLYMOUTH ARGYLE 2 BRISTOL CITY 0
by Russ Macey (Knowle Red)
There was a new sense of anticipation shown by the travelling City supporters after the impressive performance against Wycombe just two days earlier. But we were all still aware of Argyle’s recent good results after winning three of their first four games. Things started off okay as both sets of fans mixed together before the match, exchanging their views on each others chances this coming season. Who would have guessed the two sets of fans would be trying to get at each other all match, with it looking dangerously close to spilling over on more than one occasion. City fans were out in force, although frustrated coach travellers were made to wait more than an hour just outside of the town centre.
I was particularly impressed at the redevelopment of their Home Park stadium, and with the plans already on show for the redevelopment of the main stand, it looks set to become a popular yearly trip for the Cidereds if the teams stay in the same Division.
Plymouth came out attacking from the start with David Friio having a shot saved and and ex-Gashead Mickey Evans denied his first goal against City with a delightful save from Phillips that had the fans on their feet. Evans then had another chance to put Plymouth ahead, only to head the ball over the bar.
Tempers were fraying in the corner where the hardcore Pilgrim and City fans met. After a charge at police and stewards from the home side some forceful and successful work was carried out by police to calm the situation down.
After some good running with ball at feet by Christian Roberts led to a City free kick, Plymouth were almost made to pay for Evans’ failure to convert chances as Mickey Bell’s 30 yard effort was tipped over by keeper Larieu.
Two more dangerously positioned free-kicks were given by the referee before the half was over, with both Lee Peacock and Dave Worrell hitting the wall. The stage was set for Roberts to silence the Pilgrims after getting constant abuse for his time at rivals Exeter City. But he could only head Doherty’s cross wide just before half time.
With CITY attacking the end that their supporters
were situated in the second half, the players were starting to look
comfortable. But as was the case at Griffin Park earlier in the
season, the home side were given a rather dubious penalty. Pilgrim
top scorer Paul Wotton stepped up and blasted the ball past Phillips,
who again was not at fault for the goal.
That goal meant that City now needed to score their
first away goal of the season to try and salvage a first away point.
They went straight to the other end of the field, where the dire
Peacock headed into the arms of the keeper from a Bell cross.
At the other end, Plymouth almost extended their lead as Wotton almost scored his second with an effort that had to be tipped over by Phillips, who looked impressive again. However, he was left helpless from the following corner as Coughlan headed in at the back post to clinch a victory.
With a last throw of the dice Peter Beadle was brought
on for Scott Murray, much to the bemusement of the Ashton Gate faithful.
Beadle did, however, have a sniff of a chance as he almost lobbed
the keeper only to see it fall onto the roof of the net.