On Sunday I travelled across the teeming metropolis of London to distant WEST London for a very important occassion. For LO! I was off to meet PALS for Peterborough United's glorious return to WEMBERLEY!
We were playing in that most prestigious of ALL trophys, The Bristol Street Motors Trophy. Yes, that's right, the trophy that other teams hanker for MOST OF ALL, otherwise known as The EFL Trophy, such is its wonder. Actually, it used to be called The Johnstone's Paint Trophy when we LAST won it ten years ago, and I think this succession of well-known and highly esteemed sponsors tells you exactly how prestigious it is. A LOT.
I met our CREW in Wolfpack, an Actually QUite Nice bar with TAPS aplenty. Originally we'd been meeting in the pub next door, but when the main group arrived they had discovered Peterborough MP Paul F Bristow in situ. Bristow is not what you would call popular in his constituency, although he was one of the Popular MPs who supported the likes of Boris Johnson and Liz Truss, so perhaps the two are linked somehow. Anyway, as soon as they saw him they ALMOST IMMEDIATELY turned around and left (after spending 10 minutes not getting served at the bar) in DISGUST. It is in these ways that REVOLUTIONS begin.
We had a delightful couple of hours in Wolfpack trying out some of their fine BEERS before it was time to head off to the TOOB and thence to Wembley Park and the walk to the stadium itself. This bit was DEAD EXCITING as there were literally THOUSANS of Posh and Wycombe Wanderers fans making their way, all in very high spirits. I had been to Wembley THREE times before, once for the aforesaid Johnstone's Paint Trophy Final and twice for League One play-off finals, and there is a different atmosphere for the two, probably because the play-offs decide the entire next year of your football life, and possibly beyond, whereas OBVIOUSLY the GLORY of winning The Bristol Street Motors Trophy lasts FORVER.
There was a very long queue to get in, partly caused by slightly exhaustive SEARCHING but mostly due to people not being used to big stadiums where you have to follow detailed instructions for the correct GATE at a football match. Still, eventually we DID get in and soaked up some a) atmosphere b) BEER before the game. Weirdly I didn't see ANYONE there I knew apart from the aforesaid CREW, but did see HUNDREDS of other people in Posh shirts. I haven't lived in Peterborough for DECADES but I did hope for at least one Person I'd Been To School With But Is Somehow Now Looking Much Older.
We went through to find we had FANTASTIC seats with a FAB view, sorted out for us by a PAL who I shall not name but who done us PROUD. We were dead close to the pitch and it was exciting and WEIRD to watch players you see every couple of weeks at London Road dashing about at ACTUAL WEMBLEY, especially as the game itself was very similar INDEED to what we usually saw i.e. Posh having 99.99% of the possession all the time but never actually seeming to do much with it. The whole game was thus rather FRUSTRATING as for the vast majority of it we had approx 300,000 corners but 0 goals, and the dread prospect of going into EXTRA TIME started to loom. Nobody likes EXTRA TIME even in the most exciting games, and this was not one of those.
Well, it wasn't until the 85th minute when, after the MILLIONTH attack on goal we actually managed to score! There was jumping, there was shouting, and a general joyous feeling of relief across the Fenland end of the stadium... for about three minutes, at which point Wycombe scored to equalise. FLIPPING HECK. Cue further shouting, lots of running around on the pitch, also shots, hoofing, and then yet another corner. "We are rubbish at corners" I muttered, as is my WONT and also RITUAL - my theory is that if I always say that then FATE will try and prove me wrong, and LO! it may not have worked the previous 300,000 times but this time it DID and led to Harrison Burrows scoring a WONDER GOAL in the 92nd minute!
Joy was ALMOST unconfined, as there was then another approx MONTH of added time before the referee FINALLY blew his whistle and it was all over and we had won at Wembley! AGANE! We stood around doing some GRINNING and CHEERING and then turned round to see the presentation of the PRESTIGIOUS TROPHY just above us in the royal box. For some reason there didn't seem to be any Actual Royalty there, which was fine with me as it gave space for a clearly DELIGHTED Barry Fry and then a whole bunch of EXCITED players. It was lovely!
Eventually it was time to go, and we wandered off back to the tube station singing that old folk song "If You've Never Lost At Wembley Clap Your Hands". The way things are looking we might be back in a few weeks for the League One play-offs, so I hope that song continues to ring true!
