Away Day - Workington 04.01.20

Workington Away – 4^th January 2020

THE FIRST AWAY TRIP of the new decade saw Trafford’s Jones Executive coach head up the M6 to Penrith, then follow the A66 through Cockermouth and on to the Cumbrian Coastal resort of Workington. The hilarious pranks always start early, and Matz Braun was the recipient of the very first prank of the decade when he said “hold my Quavers” whilst he returned to the Bird to retrieve his scarf. Matz had already suffered the disappointment of being unable to have a bacon sandwich because the shop was shut, so imagine his horror when he opened up his replacement breakfast, the very same nutritious bag of curly cheesy crisps which he had entrusted to his “friends”…… only to find them smashed to pieces!

The journey up saw the weather suddenly change for the worse – as soon as we reached Lancashire, the mist came rolling down the moorlands and the rain came tumbling from the skies, but like a Victorian family dressed in top-hats & waistcoats we were determined to enjoy our trip to the seaside. We got round the booze-ban by eating 7 bags of wine gums, hashtag pished! We picked up El Presidente from a holiday park near Junction 35, and the highlight of the rest of the journey was Hooligan telling us the full story of his recent holiday to Lanzarote – in case he hadn’t told anyone at the last game…... or the game before that……

Did you also know that Dave Wheelan broke his leg in the 1962 FA Cup Final?!

Despite his brekky disappointments, Braun researched a suitable watering hole/eaterie for our arrival, and Wetherspoons turned out to be half-decent with San Miguel and an all-day breakfast for a tenner.                                         

I have my contacts in Wooky and we were able to have a pint and a good chat with Workington FC Legend Reg Cartner, who was the club’s Physio from 1986 to 1999. Top man! Reg said he’d lead us to the ground, but when I came back from the Bog everyone had disappeared. The Hatton Garden Cru had got a taxi and the Dark Fruits Cru had gone to Tesco for more cans, so I set off walking to the ground on my own, which was a bit scary, I have to say...

I eventually caught up with Bunky who was blindly following his mobile phone, and after negotiating our way through the terraced streets with dangerous looking youths on the corners (drinking Dark Fruits) we stumbled across Borough Park, the home of Workington FC.

Once inside, the stadium was a big bustling 1930’s relic, but with nearly 600 people in attendance it had a great atmosphere for a non-league ground. We set up the flags behind the goal the Mighty Yellows were attacking, but as you weren’t allowed to take your pints out of the main stand it left us a bit thin on the terraces while we had to sup our double rounds on the other side of the stadium. The first 10 minutes of the game we were shitting bricks as Workington seemed to be in the mood and Trafford looked a bit “rabbit-in-the-headlights” but the lads soon gotta grip and possibilities came our way. Grimmy fired in some quality crosses and Lewis W was causing loadsa problems.

With about 20 minutes of the first half left we were able to muster up a few more suitably oiled vocal chords and started belting out some of the TFC Choir Classics. On 42 minutes we went crazy when Lewis W put us 1-0 ahead. Absolute limbs tumbling down the huge concrete terraces to the front to celebrate with the players. Brilliant stuff!

At half time I entered the gents to find Hooligan pointing percy at the concrete-render-with-clay-half-round-pipe-footer. Although Hools was effusive in his praise for the quality of the pies at Workington (“7^th best I’ve ever tasted in 50 years of watching football”!) he was less than generous when it came to the state of the toilets, which to be fair did look like someone had thrown a bucket of white paint everywhere in a Jackson-Bollock stylee. The walls were a nice regular white, but they obviously didn’t have any dust sheets on the floor that day……

The second half was a slow-starter for the same reasons as the first – we had to stand at the end of the main stand with a pint in each hand, slurping as quickly as we could before we could get to the river end terrace where the Dark Fruits Boys had set up the flags. It all went bonkers in the 54^th minute when Coops was sent off for handling outside the box! Jonny Mack, our reserve keeper who was only on the bench because Keel the Giraffe had hurt his neck, had to strap on the spare Sondico Peter Shilton goalie gloves and get himself out there! His first job was to pick the ball out the back of the net as Wooky equalised from the free kick caused by Super Cooper’s misdemeanour. Shit!

We thought we’d best get behind the goal and start singing again, so we did, Elizabeth. Lucky we had the Fried Chicken flag with us – it’s got loads of lyrics on it, and we started belting them out. This attracted Workington’s Under-10’s team who came over and stood nearby waving their arms at us like mini-Simon Rattles conducting the Halle Orchestra while we sang classics like “Trafford All Over The World” and “Sometimes, All I Need Is The Beer That I Drink And The Trafford”. The kids’ fun was ended abruptly when a steward came over, clipped them all round their bloody earholes, and sent them back to what they were supposed to be doing – being ball boys!

On 66 minutes Sam Baird put the 10-men in yellow 2-1 ahead! Absolute limbs again! Can we hold on? Sadly, Workington scrambled their second equaliser of the day with about 15 minutes to go. The gaffer brought on Salmon and Toyeeb to give us a bit of pace and try to get the ball away from the danger zone quickly. A point will do us, pleeeaaase! Our hearts were in our mouths when Toyeeb seemed to have tripped one of the Reds’ players just inside the box, but luckily the Liner WASN’T on spice and he advised the Ref to give a free kick just the other side of the white line. Moments later the board went up for FIVE minutes of added time, and when we’d negotiated that, the final whistle came like a beacon of joy! “We Love You Trafford, We Do” was belted out and the players and management came over to a man to salute us. Top stuff!

Afterwards we sunk a few more beers in Wooky’s club bar and got chatting to a few of their fans. They were lovely people, admired us for our travelling support, and to a man & woman they condemned the recent accusations that have been levelled against their own travelling support. Good people, as always at Non-League level. We also had a good chat with the Legend Chrissy Palmer, who said the dressing room spirit and togetherness is the best he’s known in his 47 years at the club. This will take us far. “Tom Baker’s Trafford Army!”

On the way home that spirit and atmosphere was abundant on the coach. Lewis W must surely extend his loan to the end of the season after he started the Karaoke with Robbie Williams “Angels” then sang another one which he introduced by saying “You probably won’t know this one….” (he was right!)

We then had some mic-wrecking from the Dark Fruits Cru (Scott, Mack, Tom and Innay, I think!) the full-time scores read out by Matz Braun, and loads of general singing from the seats. We were even taught a new song by the Players: “Joel Amado, it’s never his fault!”

I got off the bus at The Nag’s Head and tripped over all my stuff as it fell out of my rucksack which I was holding upside down. I staggered home, ate some leftover Chinese then fell asleep on the kitchen table with my head on a bowl of prawn crackers. What a TOP day out, as always!

(Muggsy)