800 miles for 90mins... it’s what fans do
PAUL DOBSON
Woken from my brief slumber by the alarm ringtone of “football’s coming home.” Curse quietly and turn over – there’s nee such time as this!
Woken from my even briefer snooze by the ringtone of “football’s coming home”, think “it’s matchday, we’re winning” and roll out of bed. It must be love.
Out of the house, mentally picking the team.
On the bus, greet our fellow diehard fans, find our seats, boots off, get as comfy as you can for a 404-mile journey while discussing where to go for refreshments in Plymouth.
Zoom past last pick-up, noting looks of horror on the faces at the roadside. A quick loop, and they’re aboard... let’s get to sleep.
Change drivers at motorway services – it’s complicated.
Somewhere in South Yorkshire, the sun came up.
Shave. Coffee (much needed) and sandwiches to wake us up. Chatter started, with most agreeing on an unchanged line-up.
If it’s Easton in Gordano, it must be a 10-minute ablution stop.
Past Exeter racecourse and the Torquay turn-off... just 40 miles to go.
Coats at the ready as we pass Home Park – Plymouth’s ground – where there’s no coach park. So it’s to the town centre we go.
We’re off the bus... 7 hours and 45 minutes after leaving the house.
Plymouth 0 Sunderland 2.