Just the Ticket? Port vale Away.

Back in 1971, a friend and I stared at some strapping, side-burned man in a too-tight jacket having his photo taken on the pitch at Fellows park (Walsall’s previous home ground). He was physically impressive and had an air of real thuggish menace about him.

“He’s havin’ his photo taken,” my mate explained, “’cos he’s been banned from the ground and all the entrances need to know what he looks like …”

That massive hulking figure was none other than Bernie “the Bolt” Wright. A giant, uncompromising old-fashioned centre forward who terrorised defences with his ask-no-mercy, expect-no-mercy brand of play. He moved on to Everton, was involved in a very unsavoury incident there when he floored a coach but left a mark as he created an impression on the Everton fans, who, Wikipedia has it, remember him for using his head to accidentally break the toe of Sheffield Utd defender Eddie Colquhon during an attempted diving header.

He came back to Saddlers, played with us for a further four years and ended his league career at Port Vale. This weekend’s last-scheduled game of the season.

Travelling to away games, concerts or work back in those days we imbued him with supernatural powers – if there was thunder we’d say it was Bernie’s temper. Either that or Keith Moon playing Heaven’s drums.

Saturday and I’m driving back from my mother’s. She wasn’t in and it was unseasonably hot. I was thinking of getting out the fire-pit and sitting outside later in the evening with a beer. But the sky grew dark – and memories of associating thunder with Bernie came flooding back.

Here was a behemoth who plied his trade at both grounds. Was the long lasting thunder – and seriously heavy downpour some kind of omen? For whom?

I’d reminded my brother that I had the tickets for the Vale game … and that it was a 12.30 kick off. Arranged to get him at ten o’clockish. A steady drive I’m thinking; I can find the Vale ground with my eyes closed (actually incorrect and rather risky). But then – help – I could only find one ticket for the match – an all-ticket occasion, local derby!

Then it dawned on me – he had bought the tickets and kept his own. Panic over – at least for the moment.

Saddlers Widow had baked some lemon meringue pies – courtesy of passing through Bakewell on the route home from Sheffield United – https://saddlersfan.wordpress.com/2016/04/04/sheffield-united-away – for each and every one of us (that’ll be seven then).

The M6 is apparently closed so we slip along the A34, miss the Longton turning and end up going the long way round via the A500. Stuck in traffic, there will be three thousand three hundred Walsall fans on the roads, rails and pavements. We dodge in and out of the rabbit warren side streets and end up with a near perfect spot on top of the hill. Long, warm walk down the Hamil Road, carrying the pies in a carrier bag. Half way down, compulsively checking I realize that I no longer have my ticket.

Rude words!

I send my brother onwards and go and check the car. Phew! There it is, down the side of the hand-brake! The rest of the “team” are inside, the pavements are crowded, flashing lights, police motor bikes, searched before we go in: fortunately there is no problem with the bag of desserts; though we have to take off our hats and have them rousted.

Once inside we have to queue to get through to a wonderfully crowded away end. Behind the goals. Seats are scarce but Cully has some saved for us: good spot. Quick nods and we stand and watch. It is noisy: the Saddlers fans are giving it the twelfth man business!

 

We know what we have to do; win by two clear goals at a team with one of the best home records this season … and a mean defence too. Then we depend on Doncaster beating Burton Albion, who start the day three points ahead of us.

There is tremendous energy about those pre-kick off moments: the pitch, the skies hot and clear. Just around the corner from “our end” are the Port Vale “choir”; strange that the two opposing fans are so close together: this is not normal … but, seriously? The Walsall fans are there to support their team, egg ‘em on, drive the team on. And the songs and encouragement is spinal Tap eleven. There are beach balls, inflatable crocodiles, killer whales, balloons, and bananas bobbling about. People in fancy dress. Big smiles, handshakes, and a will to win!

…oh and a killer Lemmy track to get the blood stirred up (Lemmy Kilminster born in Stoke on Trent: citizen of rock and roll excesses, bless ‘im).

We kick off defending “our “ end. Because that is the second part of the job: don’t concede goals!

Oh and did I mention we had to win by two goals?

Former Walsall full back ben Purkiss is pushing up forwards. He’s against the flying-all-season Rico henry, so is, we guess trying to deny him room to run. God luck with that then. Lalkovic is really fired up, he is so passionate and inclined to get carried away, but is a good ball carrier – and unpredictable. Perhaps we need that today?

Non-stop noise – and people all around with smart phones to get the news from Doncaster.

Vale are a physical team, bit rough in some of the challenges. We have the players to go toe-to-toe with this, but, when one of our runners is fouled we all want a free kick. The referee waves play on. We have the ball, the advantage – and Downing is running in to put the ball. Into. The. Net.

The away end, crammed and crowded goes bouncing crazy. One nil up? So early! Wonderful. Just what the doctor ordered! And Downing? Pushing up so far forwards?

Well, don’t knock it, if it works.

Soon we are pushing up again. Using the wings – and Forde is a revelation – again. Chambers using his energy and experience. Everybody standing up – off the pitch as well as on it. Another sweeping attack and the ball is in the net again. Tom Bradshaw has got his twentieth goal of the season! Tanking through in a way that Bernie Wright would have recognised.

That’s the two goals then! What’s next?

Because if, just if, Doncaster could get that one simple, single goal, this could be a real party!

Just more and more pressure from a team that is in full flow, showing togetherness, skill and determination. A great final game of the season, now if Doncaster could just …

We have the ball in the Vale net again; this time it is Forde. Three goals! I am sure everybody is thinking this – or maybe just me – this is truly miraculous; it means we can give a goal away – as we often do – and still have the necessary two goals in the bag.

Half time. I slump into the seat. All that standing up! I need a rest. What a remarkable turn around since that day up at Bradford: real character from Whitney and the team. Respect. Still nil-nil oop north. But at least Burton aren’t winning – and anything can happen – so quickly in a game of football.

At half time there is a procession of teams around the ground. I guess these are the Port Vale under elevens, under thirteens and so on. It would swell the gate to have their parents here. And, credit to the Walsall fans: we give them a round of applause as they pass by. A cynical part of my brain, meanwhile is thinking: good commercial move, the team has nothing to play for, so get a few more bums on seats by parading the teams and their parents, friends et cetera make up the numbers. Like I said, the cynical side …

In fact, lemon meringue pies consumed and approved, we are on our feet again, the second half has kicked off and some guy in front of us looks up from his phone and announces that Doncaster have scored. Well, it seems they had the ball in the net – but the ref disallowed it.

 

Port Vale at this point seem to be rather going through the motions. They were canny enough in the first half but they have little to play for, probably didn’t bother with full training this week and may be off to catch planes to holiday destinations before the sun sets over the Potteries canal bridges.

 

And we go four nil up. Sloppy clearance lands for Antony Forde, who races forwards, skillful ball control and belts it into the net.

Just. Need. That. Goal. Atdoncaster!  There are substitutions: Sam Mantom comes on. He hasn’t been on long when the ball drops for him and he rifles it straight into the net.

This is amazing stuff.

Come on Doncaster!

But we get to hear that Doncaster are down to ten men. Not sure if somebody has been sent off – but they have used all their subs. Maybe Burton’ll score an own goal?

Then, strangely Doncaster are down to nine men. Nigel Clough’s bully boy tactics? Intimidate the opposition? Whatever it is, it is working for them

We are five nil up – but points behind.

Still, this has been an exhilarating season – and it doesn’t finish at the final whistle.

Automatic promotion? No. But the play offs are now next for us now. We play Barnsley away next Saturday, then at home the following Thursday.

Port Vale generously allow the Walsall team and management to come over and celebrate the last game of the league season (play offs are a separate entity). While this is happening, most of the home fans join in the applause, but a few spoil it with rude behaviour. Including one “hero” who, probably drunk and a bit, launches himself over the wall, tries to barge through the police lines and ends up, red-faced and restrained by the boys (and girls)in blue. Good job!

We squeeze out and travel along gently friendly roads. Still a chance of getting up then.

There is no point at all, though it is doubtless being done on coaches, paths and in cars, wondering where we could have nabbed those extra few points (for me, ironically the game at Burton) that would have us promoted already.

It is enough on this bright, warm day to have seen such a display: dominant, aggressive, skillful and entertaining.

Credit to Burton Albion: promotion wasn’t won by a single game, but by a gradual aggregation of points, goals, knock-backs and hard work. A small club, with a tiny budget, doing well through dogged determination and pride, against the odds. Respect is earned; you have mine.

But super credit to our players, to all of those who have worked in the back-rooms, pits and engine-rooms; to those I have been on the road with – and …

…we are still in it: still shouting, still up for it.

Dare to believe, indeed!