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Now, for those of you who don't know much about Bedfont FC (i.e. the part-time, band-waggoners out there - such as Luton Claret ;-) ) I'll fill you in. The ground is situated less than half a mile from Hatton Cross Tube Station, on the Piccadilly Line. More importantly, it is situated just - and I DO mean JUST outside Heathrow Airport. More of that later.
The train arrived - late of course - into St.Pancras, which has always sounded more like a medical condition to me than a train station, but there you go. I then made the rather lengthy and arduous journey across London - a whopping great 23 tube stations westwards to my destination. Needless to say, I sat on aforementioned Tube train for 5 minutes or so in a couple of stations, admiring the same advertising hoarding, and counting the bricks in the wall of the station. Finally - late - I arrived at Hatton Cross.
The directions from the Official AFC Wimbledon website were excellent, and I was soon tucking into 2 jumbo sausages and onions from the not-so-dodgy "dodgy burger van" on the Club's premises. Due to the carb-free diet I was suffering, sorry following, to support my better half, these were bunless. But I digress. They were bloody nice though.
A few curious looks from the club stewards - who were very very helpful and friendly as it happens - were soon replaced by handshakes and thanks from the fans. In fact, given the amount of hand-shaking, back-slapping, drink-buying and general well-wishing, it's a great shock I didn't end up with r.s.i., a stoop, drunk or married.
The welcome we were given was stupendous, and they took to buying the fanzine with great aplomb. In fact, for the record, we sold all 90 copies in a crowd of just over 1,100 - exceeding what we would do at a BFC match! I swapped one with the AFC guy, and even sent one in (free!!!) to the AFC dressing room.
I met with the club chairman, and other "officials" of the club, who were just milling around the bar and social club (whose manager must have been rubbing his hand with glee, given the average attendance of 55!) and enjoying the warm autumnal Middlesex sunshine.
Very nice blokes they were too. Then my main correspondent, and all-round good-egg, Simon Wheeler from WISA (Wimbledon Independent Supporters’ Association - pronounced "whizza", probably because they're Southern!) arrived and got the drinks in, which is always a good sign.
We chatted about various issues, along with J50 from this site's messageboard, but mainly about the way they have been shafted by Koppel, Winkelman et al. It really does make your blood boil and your head shake in pure and utter disbelief when you hear the facts and the ins and outs of the story, and I am sure that if all BFC fans had heard that story, none would have been at the NHS in MK watching FFC.
Simon was even kind enough to provide 3 free "Say NO to Football Franchising" t-shirts - one of which was in "small" size, so he obviously had heard of my legendary diet. This was not the first or last act of kindness extended to the handful of Burnley fans this day by either Simon or the other AFC fans. I have never been treated so well, or received so warmly by a group of fans in my life. It was very humbling actually.
Onto the game itself. I will nick the report as such (in the main) from the bigtissue website, not because I am lazy, but because they know the players better. Besides, as all will testify that saw me, my report was actually scribed on the back of my left hand, so probably left a little to be desired in terms of journalistic skill.
The most impressive fact was that the first half beat the second half (I reckon) by 28 to 26. "Bloody hell!" I hear you cry. "That's a high-scoring game!" Well, yes it was, but I am talking about the planes that flew overhead!
Now, I know that some of you are sat there thinking "Oh yeah, we've all been to Brentford mate!" Yes, so have I , and that is nothing, I repeat nothing compared to the Bedfont experience. The planes have literally just taken off, and you can not only tell which air carrier the plane belongs too, but you can check out how the tread on the tyres is standing up and have a conversation with the pilot through sign language.
I was slightly perturbed when one man shouted "keep it down!" I was rather relieved that all the pilots managed to "keep it up", as it were. the noise was deafening, and we wondered if perhaps a flashing light or something was used to replace the ref's whistle in times of take-off (every 45 seconds or so.)
Bedfont's ground is called "The Orchard", but God knows why. I think there are as many, if not more, trees around the Turf. And the pitch was more brown than green, with enough bobbles to put off even the most skilled of players from running with the ball. This time, "keep it in the air" would have been a better bet for football.
News filtered through of the delayed kick-off, as did our two goals, and what happened at half-time in Bedfont FC's social club will stay with me forever, because of its surrealness and emotion. The whole place was singing "Come on Burnley" at the top of their voices. We were hailed as heroes equal to those who had scored the goals themselves as we entered the bar, and was once again put through the hand-shaking wringer. I noted with caution that we weren't the best side at holding onto leads, but was told we would be
alright.
The second half went on it's merry way, and the only thing that spoiled it was a solitary goal from Bedfont FC. I also was disappointed by an 11th hour (well midway through the first half, just as AFC put in their second goal) cancellation from Radio 5 Live, saying that I was to be put on standby for their show at 8.15 that evening. A disappointment indeed for Simon and I, as much preparation and faffing about had been done to sort it out.
I guess that was how Simon felt when his plane-flying stunt was wrecked at the last by the Police and the CAA. Still, at least they had had the decency to phone me.
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The mood was tense as we waited a full twenty minutes for the final result to filter through: we had drawn. I felt sorry for an AFC official who had bet £100 on Burnley doing the business - if only he knew what it was like, though I don't think he would have minded too much. It was almost as if we personally had let the side down.
The AFC fans were more disappointed by that almost than as they were jubilant at their own victory, for when they win this league (and they WILL win it handsomely), it will be something of a foregone conclusion, whereas the Franchise saga is one that they - and many - would like to see fail, and see
fail quickly and spectacularly.
There were yet more thanks and congrat's and well done's to be had before I bid my farewell to that bunch of merry football fans, who had indeed stood up for what they believed in.
To have seen it all in action was indeed a touch surreal, and yet completely heart-warming and moving at the same time. These boys are not messing around. There is only one Wimbledon now, and it WILL succeed. They WILL be back, given time. And I for one, will be there to welcome, handshake, back-pat and buy drinks for them. They will have earned it.
To cut a long story short, my journey home was strange and yet predictable at the same time; I met a journo from the FT who included me in his article on the Monday, which was nice. I was also delayed so much on the Piccadilly Line home that I missed my train.
The later train was then sat outside Chesterfield station (of all places, I ask you) for a good 10 minutes, and I arrived home, late. In some ways my journey on Saturday was like the AFC journey to their home at Kingsmeadow, Kingston; long, drawn out and frought with difficulties, frustrations and let-downs. But ultimately - and morally - by God, it was worth it.
PS If you want to read about the game, here you go:-
1-0 It took just over ten minutes to get the scoring going, Gray picking up the loose ball after his corner had been blocked, then swinging in a left foot cross from the right on to the head of Everard who'd retreated back to near the penalty spot and his header, rocketed past keeper Stevenson into the net.
2-0 Twenty minutes gone and after being briefly distracted by a hair rufflingly low Virgin Atlantic jumbo, I turned to see Cooper racing clear through the middle after, very probably, a neat flicked header on from Russell. Cooper dallied about on the edge of the box before sliding the ball under the keeper into the net.
The rest of the half was pretty flat. Stevenson scooped an Everard header up off the line in the last minute while up the other end the returning Martin was largely untroubled, though the Font's wide men Fofoman and DeCosta looked lively.
Two up at half time seemed respectable enough, particularly on the undulating sandpit that passes for a pitch at the Orchard. This was a surface where dust flew up every time the ball was kicked and attackers chasing after long punts could expect to see the ball bounce back over their heads half the time. It wasn't suited to hosting the Dons' best game but their best game, or damn close, is what it got for periods of the second half.
It needed a shock though to spur them into it. After a rousing half time team talk, Bedfont stormed back after the restart, mounting a series of attacks, winning the odd corner and after three minutes bundling the ball over the line from one such corner.
If they'd kept that score for more than a single minute who knows? Instead.
3-1 Straight down the other end, a Gray free kick from the right found Everard unmarked at the edge of the six-yard box and headed it back across for Cooper to smash into an open net from no distance. Delighted, he rushed back to the halfway line, beaming that demented Cherie Blair smile of his to all four corners of the ground.
4-1 KC had already had a hat trick goal disallowed for off side when he made a desperate attempt to claim this fourth as his own. Bassey swung in a free kick from the right and as it curled towards the far post Cooper made an effete shut-that-door leg movement in an effort to back flick it over the line. He missed the ball completely but even as a bundle of defenders were escorting the ball over the line he and Bassey were making spurious claims to being the scorer. Think we'll stick to o.g though.
By this time the lads who'd gathered in the bus shelter stand behind the goal were making a fine old noise, specialising in our new song, to the tune of Yellow Submarine, "Wombles going up, Franchise going down."
5-1 Gray again, powering through the middle before unleashing a fierce low shot into the corner from outside the box.
The best was saved for last and was the combined work of two subs and MOTM Gray. Early in the half Sheerin had replaced Russell (pretty effective today), a move that seemed a bit risky on such a pitch with the game won.
Midweek signing Scott came on for Cooper after the fourth goal. Tall and fast and just a touch gangly, the man from Whyteleafe was in a rush to show what he could do and live up to the build up he gave himself on the OS this week.
Certainly comparisons with Chairy Henry didn't seem so far fetched when he picked the ball up 40 odd yards from goal out on the left and started off on a run that took him past four defenders, all the way to the bye line. Once there, he crossed it in for Gray in the middle who backed heeled it on to Sheerin. Joe's prodded at the ball first time and though the keeper got a hand to it, the ball managed to evade a couple of defenders and crawl over the line.
6-1 with nearly a quarter of an hour to play. The Dons were content to play out time though whenever he got near the ball Scott looked capable of making things happen with his neat control and faltering pace - faltering because every time it looked like he'd roar off into the distance he'd have to slow down to check the ball had bounced off in some odd direction.