The team has taken a fair bashing of late but maybe it’s me that needs to take a look at my performances on these away days lately. You are only as good as your last performance and my pal and I had an absolute stinker here. It was a direct train unlike Boston away, so what could go wrong?
Was I too pumped as I had my mate on the journey? F*ck knows. It sounds like an excuse to blame him but it was partly his wrongdoings too. More on this later.
So, with (the usually aptly named) Shrewd I caught the 10.01am from Kings Cross. His nickname came from his punting strategy as a youngster and his outright love of a bargain. Keep that in mind for later. Oh and the train tickets cost £130 each by the time we booked them. As my girlfriend would say ‘KMFT’. I don’t care if we booked them at 10 am that day, which we didn’t, that is ridiculous! What do you do though?
The direct trip from London to Darlo gave us both the opportunity to have a good catch up on life and we certainly put the worlds to rights over several bevvies. Shrewd was on fire, he ended up sharing a convo about one night with an Ex, with both myself and the bar hostess. It wasn’t his intention for her to hear it but when she did his attitude was very much ‘in for a penny’. I won’t say too much but there was a fair bit of laughing and cringey looks going on. Say no more.
On arrival in Darlington, we wanted to find a local pub and then we bumped into the Greyhound. Old Skool. They even had Woodpecker on tap for £2.20 a pint!! Combine that with the fact they had live horse racing on tv, there was plenty of value to be had here. The locals were spot on with us and after we left we even had two of them shouting at us by the time we had got halfway up the road. Shrewd had left his scarf in there! We initially thought they might have been looking for a tear-up!
A brisk walk down to the ground followed, which our phone maps made a right bodge of (taking us to the old ground initially). We were greeted at our destination by locals telling us we had a chance today as they can’t finish teams off. Encouraging we thought. We then tried to get into the club bar for another mandatory pint at which point access was denied! Apparently, our reputation precedes us. “We r the Hereford boys making all the noise…???”. So, in failing at our attempt we had to settle for a steak pie and Bovril inside. As Alan Partridge famously said of Bovril, ” basically beef tea”.
I’m not really a fan of these new stadiums (like Blackwell Meadows is) as I’m sure I’ve said before. Give me Edgar Street any day of the week, these new grounds just seem soleless. Tom Owen-Evans was our standout player on the day. Like I said in my Boston blog, ‘he looks like a tidy player’. I loved the way he took his first goal here. Picking up a short ball just inside the Darlington half, running purposely across his marker, cutting back inside and having a pop from 25 yards. Their keeper will no doubt feel he should have done better but we will take that at the moment. Symo had a half chance to make it two but flicked just over. They had a few chances to mind but I was happy to be 1-0 up at half-time.
To go two-nil up in the second half was dreamland. It was a move that involved Thomas, (my boy) James Roberts x2, Symo, Kyle Finn and Owen-Evans who hammered home his second, finishing off a classy move. This started on the edge of our own box. Roberts was heavily involved with two neat passes. I love this lads work rate and his passion looks spot on as she showed with his celebration at the Meadow End against ‘Alty’.
From here on in we were under the cosh massively and were lucky to hold on by the end if I am honest. Yates will be disappointed he let the first through his fingers especially as he made a couple of smart saves. The second they worked well and we couldn’t clear. How Darlington missed that header near the end to take all three points is a mystery. The away end was that section of the ground and we all thought it was in, it should have been. Our general language at the point it left his head would have summed it up. 2-2 didn’t feel great from two up but it was a lot better than losing.
Straight to the bar after where we were allowed admission this time around and a few more jars followed. There was also a chat or two with a couple of Hereford fans in there which always helps. Back in the game. So it was then back up to town for a few before our train home.
On the walk to town, we bumped into two men, father and son, who had flown from Holland and were ‘Dutch Bulls’. It really is legendary stuff to make these kinds of trips. It makes our journey look a bit poxy. We had some great banter here and they were two top blokes. Plus, anyone who has the surname Van Dijk is going to go up in my estimations immediately!! We popped into Number One Bar for a few, it was a bit more pricey in here (but not much). There was banter, booze and a photo opportunity, we were all buzzing. Plus Shrewd had checked the train line app and said we could catch the 8 pm. So all was good.
On making our way to the station we even had time to get fish, chips, mushy peas and curry sauce. I think it cost about £5.80. Pissed was the right expression for our official state, not hammered or anything like that. When we got to the station though we couldn’t see any 8 pm train. WTF? We asked the staff and they kindly informed us that we had literally just missed the last one back to London. As Danny Dyer would say “ure faackin jokin”. It was about 7.45 pm.
Shrewd even told the staff he had proof, so got the train line app out and showed them. Only to be told that he hadn’t changed the direction of the train on his phone from London to Darlington. Shit! In fairness, I should have also checked myself. So we were stuck in Darlington the night. Thank goodness for the Mercure Hotel. Shrewdie insisted on paying. I had to tell the missus the good news. She was ok about it. I’m sure she has stored these last two episodes up though and I’ll feel the wrath one way or another eventually. It is just a matter of time. Having said that, if I’m honest I’m not so sure I would have been the same if the tables were flipped. So fair play. My parents laughed, and my other pals laughed so it was just me that was pissed about it. I ended up crashing, Shrewd went out for a few after. I don’t blame him, I should have gone, Darlington looked a decent night out from what we had seen. I knew I had to get up at 5 am on Monday to go to Malta on what was a working visit for the week. I knew better than to push it again.
Hopefully, it will be Guiseley or Bradford (Park Avenue) away next on my travels, both similar in distance so we shall see. Let’s focus on Alfreton Town on Saturday first. Come on lads.
Al Davies
The Gubbage and the Glory! 