The Match

Last summer, August 31st, my friend Robert and I were going to see the division one tie between Wimbledon and Leicester City. Robert and I both supported Wimbledon. The night before the match Robert and I had discussed, via telephone, what train station we were to set off from. We had arrived to the decision that we were to meet at twelve a clock at Cockfosters station, as this was an easy place for both of us to get to. But things turned out differently on the day. Robert obviously did not take our pre-organised station and time seriously or had not paid attention because he had failed to show up. I was already not in a good mood because it was a typical British wet, cold, miserable and gloomy summer day and therefore my mood was swaying from good to bad. So every little thing that got in my way made me more and more frustrated. At quarter to one I did not know where the hell he was and so I used my mobile and phoned him.

I asked him where he was and he replied, ”at the station, where the hell are you.”

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I replied, ” but I can’t see you here at Cockfosters station.”

He said in scared and softer voice,” damn I’m in potters bar station.”

At this point I was getting really annoyed and I felt like kicking and punching something to get my pain out of my body. He said,” that he’ll come as soon as possible.” When he arrived at Cockfosters station I shouted and got angry because we were now in jeopardy because we could have missed the match. Tension was building up between us and we didn’t talk to each other for about half the train journey. We soon could not take it that we were not talking to each other so I had to take my pride away from me and apologise. However I was still angry and furious with him. After changing trains at Victoria we finally had arrived at the temporary stadium home to Wimbledon FC’s ground, Selhurst Park. As we got off the train Leicester city supporters outnumbered us by about two to ten. Then we faced a walk down an ally that lead to the ground. Still the Leicester supporters following us chanting ‘ come on you Leicester’ I began to feel scared because I could see a lot of police more than normal and these Leicester supporters drinking alcohol and singing come on you Leicester.

Outside the stadium the continuous protesting by the Wimbledon supporters took place. This event seemed to somewhat overshadow the reason for my presence -the match. This was due to the fact that Wimbledon was now about to move from their home to Milton Keynes. This would mean that these supporters would have to travel along time to get to their home. They were chanting ‘ No way MK (Milton Keynes)’ A vibe inside me was telling me that I should not be going to watch the match, instead I should be protesting. In my mind the chant ‘no way MK’ reverberated. At this time my conscience attacked me from inside but Robert insisted that watching the match was the right thing to do. We entered the stadium fifteen minutes before kick off and sat on our given seats. The protesting was still proceeding and so there were not many supporters to watch the match. There were only two thousand supporters. Also other supporters stayed at their homes to demonstrate their anger against the proposed move to Milton Keynes.

The bare stadium faced the start of yet another match and the soft sound made by those in the ground seemed quite insignificant when compared to the protest sounds outside. The match that we had come to see had started. Soon after Wimbledon had many chances to score but failed. We were cheering on Wimbledon but still they failed to score. Then we were hit on the face when Leicester’s player, Muzzy Izzet, went past our strikes, our midfields and our defenders but thankfully failed to score. Half time was soon approaching and still there was no goal in sight. We started to get unstable because we were still on level terms with Leicester City. Two minutes before the end of the first half the captain of our team scored making it one nil. The tone in the stadium changed and the weather also changed. From the gloomy and dull day it was it became hot and things started to look up and I started to feel more up beat and happier. The whistle was blown and suddenly my mood had swayed once more. I could not take it any more because I felt like a traitor. In my mind thoughts were going around such as should I be inside or should I be protesting and trying to make a difference.

Soon after, before the beginning off the second half I was not happy and I decided to leave Robert to watch the match and go and make a difference by protesting. Robert said in an upset tone,” don’t bother going. Your such a spoilt sport.”

I replied, ” I’ll do what I want to do.” I then left and went to join the protest. A sudden boost of energy and happiness leapt out of me. My frame of mind changed once more and I was happier than I had been. My heart was pumping out loud again and I was myself. As I joined with the chant’ No way MK, No way MK, No way MK.’ More and more supporters were coming from all directions to join in with the protest and so I was not alone. There were probably more than triple the supporters outside protesting than actually watching. As the match came to a close, the supporters came pouring out like ketchup in a glass bottle!! I then saw Robert and rejoined him. He was disappointed that I did not watch the whole match with him but knew the angle from which I was coming from. As the match stopped the protesting also stopped so it was time for us to head home. We later on arrived at home.

I was happy and I wished that I had protested from the beginning but was glad that I came to my senses eventually. I was exhausted and tired and could not even keep my eyes open. My friend was even happier than I was because his local side from birth won by two goals.