Away Day - Skelmersdale (Burscough) 13.08.22

Christmas, the first pint at the airport before going on holiday, a dirty take-away after a heavy night, bank holiday weekends...

Some things are worth the wait and the first game of the footballing season is right up there!

We knew supporters numbers were going to be a bit thin however as the McGraths and Burkes were sunning it up on a drug trafficking mission and many of the YoT's were sauntering around the east side of Manchester dressed in blue. Those that remained had discussed how we would arrive in Burscough to watch the mighty Trafford play Skelmersdale United. Yes, the game was to be played at Burscough's ground as unfortunately Skem's ground had failed a 'bounce' test.

Anyway, early in the week Mr B had volunteered to drive so myself, Brooko, Sleepy and Son kindly raised our hands and took him up on his kind offer of a lift. As the week went by and the game got closer, Mr B started to get all giddy and as a result rang to inform me that getting the train to the game might be more "fun", as it would allow him to have a few beers and really enjoy the first game of the season atmosphere. No worries, I relayed the information to Brooko who did likewise to Sleepy & Son. Train tickets were purchased and excitement was now reaching a gentle boil.

Friday. The first game of the season eve. A change of plan?

It seems when Mr B decided he wanted to get the train, thus allowing himself to have a 'few' beers, he never actually consulted Mrs B. Mrs B did not share Mr B's enthusiasm for getting the train and his partaking in a 'few' beers. 

With his plan thwarted, Mr B messaged saying he'd now be driving and the offer for a lift still stood. Unfortunately, with train tickets now purchased and the idea of a day out had now set in so we thanked Mr B for his offer but explained that we'd still be getting the train. He replied with a solitary crying emoji.

Saturday. The train from Urmsterdam was due to leave at 11:51. I met Brooko and Sleepy & Son at the Brewchimp, Flixton at just gone 11 for a quick pint before getting a taxi to the station. It was here that I also got my new Trafford FC top. Deluded, Brooko had ordered a size large in the hope that his summer workouts would mean it would fit. It didn't. So mine it became and an XL is now on order for Brooko.

The taxi arrived a few minutes late but we made it to the station with 4 minutes to spare where we bumped into the King and Queen of the Urmston social scene, otherwise known as the Courtneys. They too had been swayed by the opportunity to dress in blue and hang around the east parts of Manchester. The train started pulling in and who came running down the stairs like a little kid who was stepping foot on a beach for the first time?

Yes, Mr B.

Apparently, after telling Mrs B that he would now be driving alone to the game, she was overcome with sympathy and as a result told him to get the train. On the train, Sleepy chewed a couple of people's ears off. We wished the Courtney's a good day - and they likewise to us and the Trafford. Then we got the train from platform 2 to Burscough Bridge. A couple of cans were shared out, although after kindly offering, Brooko's face growled when I accepted one of his cold stellas. Sleepy again chewed everyone's ears off that was within spitting distance. Sleepy's Son flirted with a young girl and before we knew it, the passengers on the train were massively relieved to see Sleepy and the rest of us depart at Burscough Bridge. The girl Sleepy's Son was flirting with also departed at the same station and just before he was about to go in for the kill and get her number - she was picked up by her dad. Nevermind. On to the Hop Vine, a boozer literally one minute from the station that sold a grand selection of beers. I got the round in, mainly to repay Brooko back for his Stella, and we sat outside in the glorious sun. Flag mounted, beers were being sunk and then Faulkner and a couple of the young'uns arrived. Before Josh could get comfy, Faulkner had sent him back to his car as he had left his phone.

Then some truly awful news.

Dave Murray walked by informing us that there was no bar at the ground. No bar meant no beer. No beer meant Mr B might as well drove! haha

Obviously, being the group of law abiding citizens that we are, we hatched a plan to go to the nearby Tesco, purchase some drinks - a selection of cans of cocktails seemed like the best choice as they appear less obvious. Suddenly the flag bag I was carrying became a lot heavier!

After paying the £9 entry fee, we entered the 'ground'. It wasn't good. No offence to Burscough but the facilities were bad, and that's being kind. 32 degree sun and apart from a small seating area which was already full, there was no cover around the ground anywhere. No hot food. No bar. If you fancied a chocolate bar and a water you were fine - up until half time that is because they soon ran out of water! The place did not feel right for this level. It had the look and feel of a pre-season friendly and the first 45 minutes of action certainly backed this up from a Trafford point of view. We were 2-1 down. Matty Morgs with the Trafford goal.

I was stood there, with my head dress on for protection thinking, 'Am I ever going to see Trafford win away again?' It had been well over 12 months since I last saw an away victory. We moved behind the other end of the goal and watched the Trafford subs practicing crosses and finishing. MIke Burke even attempted a diving header that gloriously went in the top corner. Easy with no goalkeeper though.

The second half got better. We huffed and we puffed and finally, after corner number 201, we found a man in yellow and boom: 2-2 thanks to a header from The Butcher (and not Ryan Morton as announced by the Portuguese contingency of the supporters' club). Game on.

Trafford continued to dominate although Skem provided some dangerous moments. The double act that was Sleepy & Son continued to 'entertain' the Skem goalkeeper and some young Skem fans amusingly told Sleepy where to go. Due to a couple of drinks breaks, it was now almost 5pm. A seemingly last Trafford move came to nothing so I began the process of taking down the flags. A draw wasn't a bad result I thought. 

And then the ball went out wide. A cross came in. It seemed to ping around for what felt like for ever. And then, as if it was written in the stars, the ball flew across the 6 yard box - it seemed like it was out of reach of everyone. Until... Mike beautiful Burke came diving out of nowhere and headed the ball in to the top corner! Practice made perfect!

It was bedlam. I thought about a pitch invasion for a split second but then remembered I'm 42 and couldn't get over the advertising boards. Burkey ran away to celebrate - the rest of the players were in pursuit. However, Burkey ran to where we had no fans, quickly realised so pulled on the breaks - ran back across goal and towards the 8 Trafford fans and embraced us knowing that THAT was the winning goal! Fantastic!

The game restarted and almost immediately the ref blew for full-time. The players came over and high-fived/hugged us and DC acknowledged my hoodoo breaking visit. 

Yes the ground was a bit bobbins but the day was glorious.

Thank you Trafford! I then went back out in Urmsterdam to celebrate someone's birthday who I'd never met. United tried to ruin the day as usual but drinks 'til 1am and the 3 points for Trafford meant the day could not be ruined.

See you on Tuesday!