This season I thought it would be good to add a touch of humour to our fortunes, while following The Gills away for our 2013/14 season league one campaign. Much aligned with an idiot abroad. We are not really angry, probably better described as grumpy just ask BSG when he tried to indulge alwaysright on the season ticket debate at our watering hole later in the day! To think the day all started so well on our venture, all the usual anticipation and mild expectation of the first away league game of the new season. My friend had not lost his humour when he demanded ID before I took up the passenger seat in his car. Only to follow with a plastic laminated picture of a bleating camel, oh this journey was going to be fun. We left Priestfield about 9am and arrived in Wolverhampton just before 1.30pm. First impression of Wolverhampton is like crossing a desert looking for an oasis. The first signs of life a cafe on the corner of a road, which appeared to have barred windows and was not a good reflection of any forth coming delights as our camel train rode past. Then further on to our left some derelict buildings, one in particular that had clearly had all of its many glazed windows stoned probably via some late night festive rituals. What looked the remnants of a once manufacturing business in its hey-day. By this time I had slightly lost my bearings, when a prominent mosque came into view at a junction in the bright sunlight. I think it was at this point a little further on we turned left into a large car park, which looked rather desolate as people departed their saddles. Quite conveniently there were boards in each corner of this barren land displaying maps of our location. However, it would have been slightly more convenient if it had included the only watering hole available to distant travellers on this journey. So we relied upon our own sense of self navigation and that of local police officers to direct us to our ever nearing refreshment. I suppose Wolverhampton can be best described as most town centres these day’s slightly depressing with a hint of intimidation, although I think this is meant to be a City. Not helped by having to cross a busy major junction, as you risk your life crossing in hope the locals don't go in search of early points via roadkill. Delights at the eventual sight of cream coloured columns supporting our watering hole and a doorman in attendance, while the police were looking on from a distance. The doorman appeared to have a touch of humour, certainly amiss on my friend who made a bolt for the bar. Before turning and deciding we best first find the Gills Northern Elite. We had made our way to the back door before deciding a mobile call would make a better tracker than following the direction of afternoon sun. Guiding us in like lost travellers before my tap on the shoulder near enough frightened the life out of itstimupnorth. The refreshing cold beers were all ready and awaiting, kindly bought by the northern lass from some faraway place called Dale. Although it was not long before LeedsGill went off seeking replenishments for the very thirsty travellers. We all eventually made our way to the ground, pointed in the right direction at every corner by awaiting police officers. Crossing towards a burger stall with the owner shouting loudly he serves the best made burgers. It became obvious as we approached the ground that this was a well organised operation by the enforcing authorities, stewards and stewardesses. Although slightly over zealous by the latter of that yellow jacket brigade. I think someone forgot to tell them they are now in the lower divisions of league one, the over zealousness demonstrated by the usual bag search but confiscation of hairspray from drakey X. While they patted me down like some criminal. So we entered the turnstile placing ticket into a bar code reader, then conversation turned as we entered the concrete jungle to my lighter that had remained in my pocket and which of the two, confiscated item or lighter were the more dangerous product, shame really because we could have done with a flame thrower to ignite our yet unknown forthcoming performance. The arena was filled with over 19,000 supporters an excellent showing for a division three game. A sea of orange or was it gold like an Arabian desert. Sadly reality dawned that it was plastic seats and golden club colours that enlightened the stadium and not some exotic holiday location . The pre-match entertainment included some huge flag bearing wavers but never noticed much else as I watched the Gills players warm up on the sidelines nearest us. please log in to view this image Molineux was obviously very impressive of a once Premiership side as we sat in the Steve Bull Lower Tier. Just a shame the spacing between the aisle seating was more fitting for something with shorter legs than this camel. But none the less a ground to be proud with its huge roof shelters covering the two tier stands. My attention turned again to the dreaded men in yellow jackets, clearly evident as they made our supporters sit down, while the home supporters in the upper tier were free to their own devices. I think they were trying to feed certain sections the remnants I believe of their chip butties. With all the organisation aimed at so called safety, you have to question the sensibility of allocating away supporters in the tier directly below home supporters. Although at halftime we sneaked to another section of the ground to be nearer our friends as stewards became more relaxed on checking your movements. As for the game well what can I say up against a team built on millions, while we budget on freebies and loan players or something close along those lines according to a post match BBC interview with Martin Allen. It was like watching a goat to the slaughter in some ritual as Wolves tore us apart, although no blood was actually spilt, it was merely the reflection of MadDog’s trousers as a Wanderers chorus sang out asking for Santa to tell them the score. Still I enjoyed the day aside from the 4-0 beating and we stood to applaud our team who came over to acknowledge us at the end. Now the golden delights of the journey home serving us the delights of going full circle of a roundabout like some adventure out of a Michael Palin journey. Then coming across an alwaysright dromedary hump at what he had earlier witnessed. The day out as a whole was good even if the face of tradition is gradually being eroded by silly rules, no longer based on using common sense and personal judgement. Look out for our next away adventure as the two angry camels venture to our disputed closest rivals Swindon Town in a couple of week’s time, how much...£25!!!!
The only ( camel related ) reply I can add to an excellent article is; I am sure that if Martin Allen had used real camels as his outfield players - they might have been able to move quicker, and would have been more effective in closing down the Wolves attacks. Evidence for this claim might have come from the fact that, despite it being a warm day - when there was a break for an injury, about half way through the first half - very few of the camels in blue shirts took the chance to take in water - obviously not worked up a sweat.
Interesting and amusing piece, made me smile on several occasions. Good luck for the rest of the season, except when you play us
Thanks for the compliments, it was certainly intended to be amusing and hopefully make people smile. Thought I would just put a positive spin on an away day even in defeat. I will do the same for when we travel to Swindon...being our so called rivals, I've been trying to think of a theme...ie Wolves crossing the golden desert. I have already got an idea in mind for Swindon, which obviously I will not reveal, however, it all depends on the events of the day and suggestions for certain themes attached to a story are always welcome.
