air
Well-Known Member
I figured I should share this, I'm no writer but I don't want the story going to waste the way something else did.
Sometime during the first weeks of 2006 I was invited to come to the U.K. and see Portsmouth versus Arsenal at Fratton Park. I had never been to an Arsenal game before so obviously I accepted the invitation. My plan was to fly from here (Finland) to London Stansted where my parents would pick me up, as they were staying in the south of England at the time. I would stay in Southampton with my sister (she works there), her boyfriend (Peter, a Pompey fan who was taking me to the game) and a few other flatmates.
I arrived in Southampton late on Wednesday night. We spent Thursday and Friday going out to some restaurants and bars. The food wasn't great but not bad, drinks were strange pint-sized mixes of lemonade and liquor but I managed to get a regular White Russian too. I had a good time.
On Saturday Peter and I took a train from Southampton to Portsmouth. We did some pregame analysis on the way, Pete told me who's playing for Portsmouth and I went over the Arsenal lineup. We discussed Arsenal's chances of getting fourth place and Pompey's chances of staying up.
Once we got to Fratton we heard someone say that there is a pitch inspection. Neither of us thought the game would be called off because we felt the rain had not been that heavy. We went for some coffee and the lady at the counter asked me if the game was still on. All I could say was that I really hope so, because I came to see it from another country! I also knew I would not be seeing any replay because I already had a flight back to Finland booked.
We walked outside the station and there were people walking the other way, and that's when I realized there was not going to be any football this afternoon. A policeman was telling everyone that the game is off, but we still decided to walk to the stadium. It was raining but I thought I might check out what Fratton Park looks like. Some guy was selling match programmes from his trunk so I got myself one, it had Andres D'Alessandro on the cover.
All this reminded me of my stay in Milan about a year back. I was there to see AC Milan play Brescia, but the game was cancelled because the Pope was dying.
"In Italy, Popes die. In England, it rains. I never get to see any football", I explained to Pete. I actually did get to see the Milan game a week later, though, it finished 1-1.
Fratton Park wasn't quite as spectacular as San Siro. It was small and old and didn't really look like a Premier League ground, but I thought it had a bit more character than many new stadiums. We had a look at the pitch through a gate, it didn't look all that bad but apparently the ball wouldn't bounce on it. Walking back to the station we agreed with Pete that had this been ten or twelve years ago, we would have both been crying by now.
We took the train back to Southampton and didn't talk as much as on the way to Portsmouth. At the station Pete realized his tickets had gone missing. It was a pretty desperate situation because he would need them for the replay. We looked around for a bit until he found the tickets somewhere in his jacket, in between different layers of fabrics. I pointed out that this was the first good thing to happen all day.
That was pretty much it for my first attempt to see Arsenal. I returned on Tuesday and thus missed the first leg of the Champions League quarter final against Juventus. When I got home I didn't look at the score because I wanted to catch some highlights or something, although I didn't really know where.
I was browsing some non-football site when I saw a link on the bottom of the page saying: "Goals from Thierry Henry and Francesc Fabregas give Arsenal 2-0 advantage over Juventus."
I didn't want to find out about it that way, but I didn't really care anymore. This was a scoreline I had to share with someone, and at 2 a.m. the only person available was my roommate. I went into the dark room and whispered: "Arsenal two, Juventus nil", and I was answered with some sleepy mumbling. I bounced back to my room and I was sooo happy again.
Sometime during the first weeks of 2006 I was invited to come to the U.K. and see Portsmouth versus Arsenal at Fratton Park. I had never been to an Arsenal game before so obviously I accepted the invitation. My plan was to fly from here (Finland) to London Stansted where my parents would pick me up, as they were staying in the south of England at the time. I would stay in Southampton with my sister (she works there), her boyfriend (Peter, a Pompey fan who was taking me to the game) and a few other flatmates.
I arrived in Southampton late on Wednesday night. We spent Thursday and Friday going out to some restaurants and bars. The food wasn't great but not bad, drinks were strange pint-sized mixes of lemonade and liquor but I managed to get a regular White Russian too. I had a good time.
On Saturday Peter and I took a train from Southampton to Portsmouth. We did some pregame analysis on the way, Pete told me who's playing for Portsmouth and I went over the Arsenal lineup. We discussed Arsenal's chances of getting fourth place and Pompey's chances of staying up.
Once we got to Fratton we heard someone say that there is a pitch inspection. Neither of us thought the game would be called off because we felt the rain had not been that heavy. We went for some coffee and the lady at the counter asked me if the game was still on. All I could say was that I really hope so, because I came to see it from another country! I also knew I would not be seeing any replay because I already had a flight back to Finland booked.
We walked outside the station and there were people walking the other way, and that's when I realized there was not going to be any football this afternoon. A policeman was telling everyone that the game is off, but we still decided to walk to the stadium. It was raining but I thought I might check out what Fratton Park looks like. Some guy was selling match programmes from his trunk so I got myself one, it had Andres D'Alessandro on the cover.
All this reminded me of my stay in Milan about a year back. I was there to see AC Milan play Brescia, but the game was cancelled because the Pope was dying.
"In Italy, Popes die. In England, it rains. I never get to see any football", I explained to Pete. I actually did get to see the Milan game a week later, though, it finished 1-1.
Fratton Park wasn't quite as spectacular as San Siro. It was small and old and didn't really look like a Premier League ground, but I thought it had a bit more character than many new stadiums. We had a look at the pitch through a gate, it didn't look all that bad but apparently the ball wouldn't bounce on it. Walking back to the station we agreed with Pete that had this been ten or twelve years ago, we would have both been crying by now.
We took the train back to Southampton and didn't talk as much as on the way to Portsmouth. At the station Pete realized his tickets had gone missing. It was a pretty desperate situation because he would need them for the replay. We looked around for a bit until he found the tickets somewhere in his jacket, in between different layers of fabrics. I pointed out that this was the first good thing to happen all day.
That was pretty much it for my first attempt to see Arsenal. I returned on Tuesday and thus missed the first leg of the Champions League quarter final against Juventus. When I got home I didn't look at the score because I wanted to catch some highlights or something, although I didn't really know where.
I was browsing some non-football site when I saw a link on the bottom of the page saying: "Goals from Thierry Henry and Francesc Fabregas give Arsenal 2-0 advantage over Juventus."
I didn't want to find out about it that way, but I didn't really care anymore. This was a scoreline I had to share with someone, and at 2 a.m. the only person available was my roommate. I went into the dark room and whispered: "Arsenal two, Juventus nil", and I was answered with some sleepy mumbling. I bounced back to my room and I was sooo happy again.
