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Sunday, 7th May.
Today was the final day of the division 1 season. Fulham were playing at home against promotion hopefuls Huddersfield Town. We arrived fifteen minutes before kickoff, and found ourselves a spot behind the goal at the home support end. The other end of the ground was a sea of blue and white vertically striped shirts. North Melbourne? No, too many of them. In fact it was the travelling support for Huddersfield. For Huddersfield Town to qualify for the promotion playoffs, they had to beat Fulham. Fulham, on the other hand, had nothing to play for except pride and perhaps a contract for next season. The DJ at the ground was playing a selection of crappy tracks from the 80s before the game, and that could possibly explain the dire display from both teams in the first half. Fulham somehow scrambled a goal thanks to a charitable display from the Huddersfield defence. At half-time there was some sort of competition between two teams of Fulham supporters. They had to dribble the ball between two widely-spaced witches hats, and then have a shot at scoring past the goalkeeper. One team had dressed up in costumes that might've been supposed to be traditional French outfit (striped shirt, outrageous moustache, and they were all carrying a stick of bread) the purpose of which was quite beyond me. One of them had a blonde wig on, and a voice directly behind us said "Look, it's Warwick Capper!" Bloody Australians are everywhere. The match came alive in the second half. Fulham went two-nil up thanks to a penalty, and the Huddersfield Town supporters started going mental. There was trouble in the away supporters reserve, a great mob of flouro-clad policemen raced towards the troublemakers. The match was stopped for some time while the mess was cleaned up. A couple of the troublemakers were dragged around the edge of the pitch by a gaggle of security guards, past the Hammersmith Terrace where we were, and did they cop it from the crowd! I can't possibly recount what they were singing, as it was all far too rude. The singing was pretty good today. Ripping it out of Chelsea, ripping it out of Huddersfield. DOWN WITH THE FULHAM The match ended 3-0 to Fulham, the Huddersfield Town supporters began filing out of the ground well before the final whistle. A bit like Collingwood supporters at three-quarter-time. As we shuffled out of the ground after the match, the bloke in front of me reached behind his back and grabbed me by the wrist, obviously thinking me to be his kid or something like that. (That's what I'm telling myself.) I said "No offence mate, but..." He looked down and realised that his kids were walking next to him, absolutely cacking themselves. "Better keep an eye on him," I said to the kid, "he could be turning." The kid laughed. Probably ripped it out of his dad all the way home. (Before the match I received a text message on my mobile from my brother: Blues by 65. Nice one.)
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