BLUES WIN IS PERFECT PRESENT
CHRISTMAS is the curse of the Decemberist’s birthday. With our lord and saviour hogging much of the limelight, those of us who share his birth month tend to get lost in the fog. One big present ok for you? Your special gift wrapped in Christmas paper? A Christmas card with the word Christmas scribbled out in crayon and birthday scrawled in its stead? Thank you so much, that’s really thoughtful.
Having endured this annual aberration for decades, all I want these days is three points for the mighty Chester on or around my birthday, plus mid-range accommodation within striking distance of the match, and all meals provided. It’s a tradition that
I’ve adhered to for several seasons, giving the fixture list an extra frisson of excitement, with the mythical computer throwing up the occasional geographical curveball.
I’m not exactly sure when the custom began, although I distinctly remember Her Indoors booking us into a stately home near Lincoln for my birthday weekend as far back as 2005. The proprietors were astonished as to our reason for the visit, my main memory of which was seeing then manager Keith Curle having a prematch stroll before a cursory 3-1 defeat at Sincil Bank.
It’s been a mixed bag since, and ten years later she dropped me at a Harvester in the Midlands where I enjoyed a magnificent meal for one before The Driver picked me up and took me to Telford for an FA Trophy victory. Genuinely one of my best ever birthday weekends.
We were in Trophy action again the following year, when her, The Boy and me holed up in Northwich ahead of a cultural tour of the environs and a tetchy 1-1 draw against Witton Albion. These are the good times.
Obviously there’s a 50 per cent chance of a home game coinciding with my big day, and this happened the following season when we treated ourselves to a corporate feed at a snowbound Deva Stadium before snatching a 1-0 victory over Solihull Moors. Her Indoors may not be able to name the scorer, particularly as she spent much of the match swaddled in blankets, gently snoozing.
Lively
A landmark birthday was marked the next year with another corporate feed (Christmas dinner obviously), this time at Stockport County. A lively occasion, a table of fellow Blues kindly sent over a bottle of champagne. I even got a cake, accompanied by a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday from the heavily refreshed Chester massive. Drew 1-1. Should have had a penalty.
The pandemic briefly put paid to the fun, but we bounced back with a trip to a freezing cold Spennymoor Town, a mere 250 miles away. Pleasingly, the match fell on my actual birthday, and even more pleasingly we clawed it back to 2-2 from 2-0 down. Lost 4-2. Scant consolation, but we enjoyed a minor detour to Barnard Castle on the way home. No eye test required.
There was no suitable weekend game last season – plus the small matter of the Word Cup – but we resumed the ritual last week with a rearranged home league game against Tamworth, having been dumped out of the Trophy.
Generously
It’s fair to say that Her Indoors doesn’t particularly enjoy the football, so she dropped The Boy and me at the Theatre Of Dreams and headed for the Oblong Of Dreams, taking herself on a self-guided tour of the Wirral peninsula. A massive mistake as she missed a great day, which began with a fellow fan generously buying me a celebratory pint. Tamworth then generously let us win 2-0 despite dominating proceedings. We celebrated with a quick scoop in the Legends Lounge courtesy of another kind fan, and The Boy sheepishly posed for a photo with the Man Of The Match.
A big day for a small boy, back at the hotel he found himself sharing a swimming pool with the Bristol City Women’s squad, on an overnighter ahead of their away game against Liverpool. Foolishly, I was languishing in the room watching Premier League muck. Ending the night with a Christmas disco, we were simply having a wonderful birthday time. Now all I want for Christmas is to stick it up Warrington Town…