Читать книгу Wednesday Rucks and Rock 'n' Roll - Anthony Cronshaw - Страница 7

Tommy had really got back into things on his return to the Hillsborough faithful after a good mate, Glynbob from the Frecheville Hotel, got him a start at Shortall’s in Intake. In a matter of days he had trebled his wages – and they didn’t have to work on a Saturday unless they wanted the overtime.

The lad had just suffered an away loss at Aston Villa on his 18th birthday. He couldn’t remember much about it, though, because all his mates got him paralytic in the Woodthorpe afterwards. Wednesday weren’t pulling up any trees; in fact they were downright struggling. Defeat at QPR in the League Cup by a score line of 8-2 was really embarrassing. With the run-up to Christmas, it would be the very first time since leaving school that Tommy would be getting a week off work. It was marked by two home draws against Hull and Forest, followed by a New Year’s Day visit to the not-so-sunny Blackpool and another drawn game.

It wasn’t long before the FA Cup dream was over with defeat at Coventry City, and the league table showed the Owls in nineteenth place. Wednesday now really had to get their act together; the boys were looking forward to a nice visit to Portsmouth, and Gary had noticed that the SUT were running a bus that was returning at midnight after the match. Tommy was well up for this, and worked his bollocks off in the weeks leading up to the game so he would draw a good wage on the day before they set off for the south coast.

The Owls again put in a dismal performance but gained a credible 1-1 draw, which lifted the lads’ spirits slightly before they headed off into the bright lights of Pompey. That’s what it was all about, enjoying the weekend and the football that went with it. Tommy’s club were not world beaters, far from it, but they had been his since 1963.

The music was blaring out of a bar called Martha’s and soon they settled back to enjoy a pint and the music on offer. Clive and Billy were at the bar and Tommy thought Gary had gone to the little boys’ room – you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife when the DJ said ‘And this next record is for all the Wednesdayites!’ Tommy couldn’t believe that Gary, the stupid bastard, had gone and requested a record that had the natives restless. The thought of having his head kicked in for three minutes of fucking Status Quo was too much to stomach.

One by one the lads vacated the premises and spent the rest of the evening in some flea-bitten backstreet public house. How they had survived was just sheer luck; had they all been at that table, an obvious cluster of Owls fans, the glasses would have been flying their way.

It had been an exhausting experience – the coach on the journey home was packed to the rafters and there must have been a good dozen stowaways onboard. Tommy was too tired to argue that someone was in his seat so he just played musical chairs all the way home – get up for a minute and your grave was taken. He must have been out of the house for near on 24 hours but had it been worth it? Damn right it had. It was worth every penny he had spent – OK, the result wasn’t a win but at least on this occasion they hadn’t been beaten. As he had been told many years before, the occupational hazard of being a Wednesdayite was that you were never going to see many trophies lifted.

The season was now coming to a close and the world beaters went on an amazing run of three victories, scoring eleven goals and only conceding one. This pushed the Owls up to the heady heights of 17th place. The last of these wins came on a great trip to London to play Leyton Orient as Wednesday won 1-0, only the third away win of the season. But the run was marred a couple of weeks later on a not-so-Good Friday when another Wednesday legend, Mike Prendergast, broke his leg at Preston. He was a damn sight luckier than Tommy’s dad’s hero Derek Dooley, as he had suffered the same fate and lost his leg. Wednesday gained a precious point, and another one against Luton Town and a home victory over Preston looked like securing the Owls another season in the Second Division.

But a dreadful result at Middlesbrough, going down 8-0, set up a final day encounter with Bolton. The Owls needed victory to stay up – ‘Not another Manchester City,’ Tommy thought. But Ken Knighton saved the day; he was chaired off the pitch by the jubilant faithful after hitting the winning goal and sending everyone home in a party mood.