Colchester. Grim garrison town stuck on the arsehole end of Essex, which itself is at the grim arsehole end of London. The army even send their prisoners there for fuck’s sake. Never a place that would exite most footballing minds, and last night was no different.
When the train pulled in (over more like) I was off for a swift couple of shants before having to catch the shuttle bus (sexy stuff) to the excruciatingly badly named Weston Homes Community Stadium. I spread four pints over the Norfolk, the nearest pub to the station, where the 20 stone off duty barmaid was complaining about “Fucking Irish pikeys” to a couple of old soaks. Then I headed to the next roundabout and the inevitable Beefeater which was called the Albert, or Dilbert or something, and was empty.
At 6:30pm I joined all the Colchester shirters on a shuttle bus, they looked like they were off to work on a particularly wet Monday morning, the miserable bastards. When I eventually got into the Brighton end for a rubber burger I was seriously contemplating ending it all, such was the loss of the will to live shuffling about a breeze block maze under the equally bland stand in sub zero temperatures. Shurely the football match would lift my spirits and stop me thinking about the train journey home that night?
Yes, and no. It’s obvious that Gus Poyet is building a footballing team – i.e. his team try to play it on the deck from the back to the front – and if it doesn’t always come off it still makes for a better spectacle. He’s got our midfield playing their socks off and people like Alan Navarro coming out of their shell and looking like the skillful, thoughtful players they always were. Colchester United by contrast haven’t got a midfield, apart from a spoiling and fouling one that is. Their game plan is to hoof the ball from the two giant knuckle-draggers at the back to the two identical big beasts up front. Their short-arses in the middle of the park are there to pick the scraps up and kick people. It was like watching Wimbledon’s Crazy Gang without the undoubted skill and accompanying humour. It was also fucking tedious.
If that’s how the “U’s” (translate as “Hoofs”) are headed for the play-offs or better, then League One football is in a worse way than I expected. Our players tried their best, we were far better, but we couldn’t get around the kicking, the interplanetary clearances and the mortar fire into our box (no doubt they are influenced by the army garrison being there, but when our keeper is 6′4″ with sticky fingers it’s a waste of energy). Our small accompanyment of travelling Albion barmies were good value (in a stadium with only 3,900 souls in it – it was on Sky after all). The Muppets’ “manah manah” song, substituted with “LuaLua” kept us all amused and Colchester’s stewards bemused. But soon all you could hear from our end was “HOOF!”, as each Colchester player in turn did just that. Even renditions of “Good Old Sussex By The Sea” and “We Are Brighton” just ended up as “HOOOOOOOOOOOF!”. The one guy screaming “Fucking MULLET!” every time Colchester’s sub (who sported a fine example of the haircut of the gods) hoofed the ball had me laughing out loud. Good effort all round from the barmies.
Our best players? Murray for being a pest, winning good free kicks against their back four gorillas (stop diving though Glenn, looks shite and you’ll get red carded soon). Midfield as a unit ran them ragged when the odd mortar dropped short around the centre circle. Tommy Elphick was magnificent in defence, and nearly won my Man of the Match. But, and he’s been threatening to win it for the last few games, last night our brightest player was – Inigo Calderon, and he wins the dubious honour from this blog.
I got the bus back to town just before 10pm, and there was a bit of argy bargy with a couple of Colchester scarfers who would have been better off throwing themselves under the bus than picking on a little old Albion fan boozed up and trying to banter with them. They didn’t offer him out until he was halfway down the now parked bus, but they have something to tell the rest of the girls at school today. Bless.
The choo-choo didn’t get into Brighton until 1:30am, and some drunken Japanese nutter was singing opera behind me the whole way from East Croydon. I was too tired to contemplate the weird day I’d just experienced, and was fast asleep by 2am. Don’t make me go back there next season, hoof your way out of this league please Colchester, you’re crap.
The Hovian’s Albion Team Performance : 7 out of 10
The Hovian’s Albion Man of the Match : Inigo Calderon
Albion Team (goalscorers in bold):
(4-5-1) Brezovan; Calderon, Elphick, El-Abd, Painter; Bennett, Dicker, Crofts, Navarro, LuaLua (Holroyd); Murray
(Subs) , Forster, McNulty, Carole, Hoyte, Hart, Holroyd
Attendance: 3914
League One table
Tuesday, 9 March 2010 00:00 UK
| Position | Team | P | GD | PTS |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Full League One table | ||||
| 1 | Norwich | 35 | 37 | 75 |
| 2 | Leeds United | 34 | 30 | 68 |
| 3 | Charlton | 35 | 23 | 66 |
| 4 | Colchester | 34 | 17 | 63 |
| 5 | Swindon | 33 | 11 | 60 |
| 6 | Millwall | 34 | 15 | 59 |
| 7 | Huddersfield | 35 | 18 | 58 |
| 8 | MK Dons | 34 | 1 | 52 |
| 9 | Bristol Rovers | 34 | -3 | 51 |
| 10 | Southampton | 33 | 25 | 44 |
| 11 | Walsall | 34 | -2 | 44 |
| 12 | Carlisle | 34 | -3 | 41 |
| 13 | Yeovil | 35 | -6 | 41 |
| 14 | Brentford | 31 | 0 | 39 |
| 15 | Hartlepool | 34 | -7 | 38 |
| 16 | Leyton Orient | 34 | -7 | 38 |
| 17 | Brighton | 34 | -11 | 38 |
| 18 | Gillingham | 35 | -11 | 37 |
| 19 | Tranmere | 33 | -22 | 36 |
| 20 | Oldham | 32 | -14 | 33 |
| 21 | Exeter | 34 | -15 | 32 |
| 22 | Southend | 34 | -16 | 32 |
| 23 | Wycombe | 35 | -25 | 29 |
| 24 | Stockport | 34 | -35 | 23 |





























