Hello again. Hope you all had a good Christmas and New Year. It’s been a bit hectic, so this is my first post for a while. Anyway, I’d like to document my trip to the Galpharm Stadium on the 28th of December, to watch Scunthorpe United play away at Huddersfield.
I was excited for this one; the first time I’ve been able to get to an away game this year. Excited, but expectant. My third visit to the Galpharm, a great footballing theatre with a good atmosphere. As we rolled into Huddersfield, my excitement grew as the magnificent arched stands of the stadium peeked from behind the buildings, steeped on either side by dominating hills.
We parked up and made our way towards the ground, stopping off at a burger van for the obligotary pre-match winter warmer. As you make your way up towards the ground, it seems tiny, but the full majesty is revealed as you head down some steps towards the turnstiles.
The Iron fans were in fine voice, as ever they are on an away outing. The teams warmed up and the supporters roared their approval at their stars. Could they earn a vital three points on the road?
I anticipated a lively game, and I was not disappointed. A pulsating encounter, end to end stuff. Delirium as Ben May poked the ball home, but a fluorescent yellow flag fluttering in the breeze punctured our short live delight. Offside. The game remained goalless. And then came a hammer blow; a Terriers striker jinked through and clipped the ball in. Three sides of the stadium erupted. Heads in the away end dropped. Except mine. I’d spotted something nobody else seemed to have. ‘It’s not a goal’, I insisted. ‘It’s not a goal, he’s given a free kick’. Sure enough, the ref had intervened, and it was the turn of the travelling faithful to cheer as the other enclosures fell silent, embarrassed at their wild celebrations that proved to be fruitless.
The game flowed, and who would win was anybody’s guess. Then it happened. A corner came into the box, and a blue and white shirted figure stooped to guide a header into the corner. 1-0 down, this time it counted, and we were gutted. They grey haired player dragged himself up and sprinted towards his adoring fans, and I realised who it was. ‘It’s bloody Goodwin!’ Our ex-player had followed the unwritten convention of football, that you must score against your old club. He then rubbed salt into our raw wounds by pointing towards the away end and pumping his fist, as if proving a point to us. What Jim? You were rubbish for us, and you are not missed at all.
And so we were chasing the game, but what would we do? Hmm, use the width of the pitch and get some low balls into the box for Gary Hooper to put away. Not enough of that I’m afraid. Too much long ball stuff, for another familiar face to turn away just as he did for us for so many years. Andy Butler dealt with pretty much everything we threw at him.
Still we clung onto a hope that we might salvage something from the game, and as we surpassed the fourth and final allocated minute of stoppage time, up came everyone (including ‘keeper Joe Murphy) bar Andy Wright (who for some reason was treated by Huddersfield fans as some kind of pantomime villain. His only crime? Nearly having his foot removed by a ridiculous first half challenge!) Anyway, as the Terriers cleared, Wright got into difficulties, and Roberts dashed through to seal the deal, 2-0, and we didn’t even kick off again before the ref blew for full time.
Devastated at the result, but inside, I still felt good. I’d actually enjoyed the day out apart from the result, and it perhaps just summed up what football is all about. Both sides attacking, and I guess you win some and you lose some.
I’ll be blogging again soon, this time reviewing the latest addition to my music collection, so be sure to return! Cheers for now!