I would be glad to be able to report that my trip to watch Cheltenham play Hartlepool passed without much fuss. Sadly, I cannot. I’m publishing this on my general blog as well as my football blog as most of the post isn’t football related.

The journey started, as journeys usually do with the 9:19 from Oakham to Birmingham. This was pretty event free and by about 10:45 I was at New Street station. I decided to get my first beer of the day (it’s an unwritten rule that early drinking is acceptable on football trips) so went to “Mi Casa Burrito” to try one of their Mexican beers, the name of which I can’t remember.
Inevitably I was asked to provide identification so I showed him my provisional license. “Sorry, we don’t take provisionals” he said. Yes, that’s right, it seems that despite my provisional license having my name, a picture of myself and my date of birth, they couldn’t take it. I couldn’t be bothered getting into an argument so I popped into the Pasty shop and bought a can of Stella which I enjoyed on the journey from Birmingham to Cheltenham. Off I headed then to my favourite pub The Spectre where I enjoyed some Amstel and was bored by Burnley and Man Utd playing out a drab 0-0 draw.

After that it was to the stadium and onto the game. We lined up unchanged from the team who beat Tranmere so spectacularly. New loan signing from Millwall John Marquis took residence on the bench. The first half was pretty uneventful but we just about shaded it. Not much to report really. The second half, we turned the screw but seemed unable to score. Marquis, who came on for Gornell, whose goalscoring touch again deserted him. Sterling-James then came on, surprisingly for Vaughan. I tried to work out what formation we’d gone for. Yates, who I was just behind looked to be gesticulating that it was four at the back, with Jordan Wynter going to right back and Brown pushing up to defensive midfield.
It was the final sub that would prove decisive however. Koby Arthur entered the fray for Byron Harrison, and in the last minute of normal time, he rose to head in a flick on. Impressive for someone only five feet six inches tall. Hartlepool didn’t look at all like equalising in the four added minutes and it was four wins from five for Cheltenham. Joint top of the table with Burton, who officially occupy top spot on alphabetical order. This is our best start to a season since 1994 and we have more points than we acquired after 12 games last season! Still though, it’s early days.

Braham-Barrett was again a revelation at left wing back and picked up a deserved man of the match award. Richards put in one of his best performances in a Cheltenham shirt and of course supersub Arthur did what he does best. Marquis also looked very impressive on his debut and was unlucky not to score.

I should also add I enjoyed a delightful chicken burger at half time.

Off I went back to The Spectre where I had another Amstel and setled down to watch Everton V Chelsea while charging my phone. The first half as you probably know was most entertaining and at half time I took the bus back to the station. I went to cross the barriers to get to the Midland Hotel and wait for the train while watching the rest of the game. This proved difficult as despite me putting my ticket through the machine, the barrier stubbornly refused to budge so I decided to roll under the barriers. The second half of the game was of course an almost farcical goalfest and I left with about 5 minutes to go to get my train with the score at 5-3 to Chelsea. Mercifully the train was not delayed or anything. Not so mercifully, I realised I couldn’t find my ticket. I must have left it in the machine or something but whatever the case it was nowhere to be seen. I knew then that I’d have to hope I wasn’t asked to show a ticket, as that would mean paying up extra money. If I could get to Oakham it would be OK as there are no barriers there, thank goodness. The Cheltenham to Birmingham leg passed without event and in Birmingham I acquired a can of Grolsch and a cheese and onion pie. Midway through the journey, I was asked by a gentleman if I could kindly turn my music down. I found this a bit odd, as my earphones are pretty quiet even on top volume and this was a pretty quiet acoustic song I was listening to. I took the earphones out to test how loud it sounded and could only hear it faintly so wasn’t overly sure how he was able to hear it from a good six feet away but none the less lowered the volume.

At Leicester, I was asked by a friendly looking young chap if I had any water, a question to which the answer was no. He then struck up a conversation with another guy from which I learned he’d been to meet a girl for the first time (or was he going I can’t remember) and the other guy had been to Gay Pride. I suggested to the water needing guy that he may have time to run to the vending machine as there was a few minutes to go until the train resumed its journey, but perhaps wisely he decided not to risk it, as unlike me he was not an experienced train user.

So to Oakham, and no ticket check. Now here’s where the fun begins. As dad was away, and mum was in bed, I was getting a taxi home. Now every time I’ve had to get a taxi home, there’s been one there straight away. I even stayed out one time and hopped into one at about 1AM. This time there was a taxi here but apparently it was already booked. I waited, but no taxi was forthcoming. Then someone approached me and asked if I was my dad’s son. I said that I was, probably with a hint of suspicion, in case it was some kind of horror movie scenario where I ended up kidnapped. He was, it turned out, someone who used to work with my dad. I explained my predicament and that I planned to head to wetherspoons to charge my phone and call for a taxi. We made small talk, he attempted to call one taxi company on my behalf but they were booked until 2:30, what luck!
We parted and I headed to Wetherspoons to charge my phone. I decided that it would be unwise to have another beer as I’d cross the line from somewhat inebriated but still with it and able to function, to an out of control state. So I sat with a juice while I plugged my phone in and set to work on getting a taxi. This proved highly tricky. First I tried Uber, but that was just very unco-operative, then I tried numerous taxi numbers, all of which were either uncontactable or unable to provide me with a service. I finished my drink and returned to the station to wait. I bumped into someone on the way who was also having no luck getting a taxi. I figured I had about four options. Either stay in Wetherspoons and hope for a taxi before closing, shell out for a night in a hotel, walk home, or have mum wake up and try and pick me up. At half 11 mum called, and despite me saying I’d quite happily wait for a taxi, she insisted on coming to collect me and so my ordeal was over. I headed back to Wetherspoons and waited with another glass of juice.

It was one of those situations where you feel like an inconvenience even though the situation is really not one that one can help. It must have simply been a particularly busy day for the taxis of Rutland and next time I may have to resort to booking one.

In all though, it was an enjoyable day out, memorable for right and wrong reasons. A good result, frustrating delay in getting home, but something to write about.