26 November 2008


I'm lucky in that the journey home for me was very short last night. For the 300+ who travelled from elsewhere to see that shite then my thoughts are with you. Albion, although controlling possesion in parts, did very little to convince that we wanted to win the match.

Sitting, roofless and exposed, in the freezing Cheshire air was not nice. The songs were drowned out, our chants floating upwards into the sky causing a beautiful turbulence to the constant holiday makers flying into Manchester Airport.

In times of deep depression, it is common for us english to make each other laugh. This we did with constant screams and hollers of SHOOOOOOT! SHOOOOOOT! whenever the Albion had the ball. This reposte to our woeful attacking prowess must've been like a wall of sound to the lads on the pitch - the eventual shot from Thornton spooned high and wide onto the railway amongst delirium from the travelling fans - it's not often you do the arms spread wahey! at one of your own badly skewed shots, but the warming self deprication was ultimately melancholy as the final whistle blew - the refreee slamming the axe onto our necks for the last time.

County 2 - 0 Albion

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