- Jul 7, 2003
- 47,225
Last night was all a bit retro, wasn't it?
The trip to Southend was like stepping back in time, in so many ways.
If you've not been to Roots Hall in fifteen or twenty years, I can assure you it hasn't changed a bit, in fact I'd go so far as to say they don't appear to have given it so much as a coat of paint in that time. The away end remains vaguely reminiscent of a pre-renovation Pissfield, though the toilets are- very marginally- less horrific. The locals were as warm and caring as ever, and I was impressed to note that it took a mere four minutes of the match for an enthusiastic contingent of Southend yoofs, huddled around their comedy drummer, to launch into a rendition of "You're just a town full of ******s". Haven't heard that one for literally several years, Shrimpers, as the rest of society- certainly at Championship level- seems thankfully to have moved on. I thought it was just the faded former mill towns of East Lancashire that were the last remaining bastions of anti-civilisation. Truly fascinated to learn that Essex has its own little pocket still. No wonder Farage & chums were so keen. As I walked back to the car afterwards, minding my own business & perusing the night's other scores on my phone, my lone Albion presence was noted by one such plucky yoof, who sent me on my way with a cheery "AND YOU CAN FACK OFF TOO, YOU FACKING QUEER! FACKING QUEER! GET AAAT OF OUR TAAAAN!". Which was quaint.
Also in the retro mood was Southend's number 22, who was sporting a pair of small, small shorts, the likes of which haven't been seen since George Michael was bouncing around the pool in Club Tropicana, along with a ludicrous hipster beard (which, to be fair, even George wouldn't have been seen dead with).
Keen to leave such depressing scenes behind, I reset the time in the DeLorean, and whizzed myself back to the future, where, curiously, I found myself at Roots Hall again, watching an Albion side plodding around the pitch aimlessly, giving away possession, lacking any sort of creativity, and with one feeble, isolated striker meandering alone up front, failing to create any worthwhile chances whatsoever. Thankfully, with only a minute left of added time, I realised my error: I'd mistakenly set the year to 2014/15. Thank goodness: I was able to correct my mistake and bring myself back to the current day. 2015/16 is so much better, isn't it?
The trip to Southend was like stepping back in time, in so many ways.
If you've not been to Roots Hall in fifteen or twenty years, I can assure you it hasn't changed a bit, in fact I'd go so far as to say they don't appear to have given it so much as a coat of paint in that time. The away end remains vaguely reminiscent of a pre-renovation Pissfield, though the toilets are- very marginally- less horrific. The locals were as warm and caring as ever, and I was impressed to note that it took a mere four minutes of the match for an enthusiastic contingent of Southend yoofs, huddled around their comedy drummer, to launch into a rendition of "You're just a town full of ******s". Haven't heard that one for literally several years, Shrimpers, as the rest of society- certainly at Championship level- seems thankfully to have moved on. I thought it was just the faded former mill towns of East Lancashire that were the last remaining bastions of anti-civilisation. Truly fascinated to learn that Essex has its own little pocket still. No wonder Farage & chums were so keen. As I walked back to the car afterwards, minding my own business & perusing the night's other scores on my phone, my lone Albion presence was noted by one such plucky yoof, who sent me on my way with a cheery "AND YOU CAN FACK OFF TOO, YOU FACKING QUEER! FACKING QUEER! GET AAAT OF OUR TAAAAN!". Which was quaint.
Also in the retro mood was Southend's number 22, who was sporting a pair of small, small shorts, the likes of which haven't been seen since George Michael was bouncing around the pool in Club Tropicana, along with a ludicrous hipster beard (which, to be fair, even George wouldn't have been seen dead with).
Keen to leave such depressing scenes behind, I reset the time in the DeLorean, and whizzed myself back to the future, where, curiously, I found myself at Roots Hall again, watching an Albion side plodding around the pitch aimlessly, giving away possession, lacking any sort of creativity, and with one feeble, isolated striker meandering alone up front, failing to create any worthwhile chances whatsoever. Thankfully, with only a minute left of added time, I realised my error: I'd mistakenly set the year to 2014/15. Thank goodness: I was able to correct my mistake and bring myself back to the current day. 2015/16 is so much better, isn't it?
