Fancy Dresslemania XXIII
Ever since the opening day of 2010/11, when the Macleods and I were ejected from their home end (there was no 'home end') on trumped-up charges of foul and abusive language (I didn't swear or abuse anyone) and threatening behaviour (i.e. standing up), leading to unjust bans from York Road, I've had a strong dislike of the football-club-formerly-known-as-Gravesend-and-Northfleet, so I was especially pleased when we pipped them to the Conference South title in 2016/17 and then stayed up at their expense – by a guffaw-inducing margin of 0.094 points per game – when the pandemic curtailed the 2019/20 season; I hadn't been back (missing Sean Marks' hat-trick of headers, as referenced on 'Two for Joy'), despite insisting to Craig that it wasn't an official boycott, and always suspected it would take Fancy Dresslemania (the 23rd instalment, as it happens) to entice me to return ... although I could have done without the nightmarish prospect of them relegating us, which would naturally delight their numpty wrong-ender fans (and, TBH, finally put our sorry season out of its misery)
Before anyone had heard of COVID-19, there was a pub near Swanscombe station that Macleod (M) and Craig had enjoyed, but it seemingly closed in 2019, so our plan was for the travelling horde to congregate at Barrel Vault – the Wetherspoons at St Pancras station – and that's what many of us did, with the following list of characters on the 10:26 GWR train from Maidenhead: Napoleon Dynamite, Pingu, the Fourth Doctor, the Grim Reaper, Freddie Mercury, a reverend, a Pink Lady, Michael van Gerwen, Nessa Jenkins, Heisenberg, and Steve H. dressed as an Aston Villa fan (on his way to their FA Cup semi-final at Wembley)
Better than expected, the pub (in keeping with the day in general): Titanic's Plum Porter went down a treat (as always), and we were able to sit outside with other groups in fancy dress (hen parties, etc.) and an increasing number of MUFC fans (including several orange dinosaurs, and Phil W. dressed – somewhat disturbingly – as a baby)
Some boos from the away terrace greeted the referee's whistle for half-time, as (1) relegation rival Dagenham & Redbridge was coasting to victory against Altrincham, and (2) Ebbsfleet had been the better least worst side in our game (TLF passing the ball to an advertising hoarding, under no pressure, summed things up); Pingu had earlier argued with Josh Banana about Reece Smith's Player of the Year credentials (Smith should be the clear winner, IMO) and, while I was drinking with Ryan Dino-Rider in the bar, everyone's favourite penguin also verbally clashed with another fan whom he thought had called for the introduction of Tobi Sho-Silva (the Grim Reaper had to intervene: "He said 'Tris' not 'TSS'")
Fortunately, the on-field performance and the off-field mood improved soon after the restart, with Brendan Kiernan playing in Shawn McCoulsky to open the scoring with his 13th league goal of the season (I missed it, supping cider) and, after Sam Howes had expertly tipped a shot onto the crossbar, McCoulsky then teed up Kiernan's fifth goal in six starts; it was now party time for the 162 away fans, with the Youth instigating a fancy dress conga for – I think – the first time since promotion to the National League (as substitutes Joshua Johnson and Tristan Abrahams both went close to increasing our lead)
Lokko, Kevin – still recuperating from February's fractured ankle – said his goodbyes as we passed him in the football ground car park on our way to catch the soonest train possible back to St Pancras; more beers in the same seats as before, outside the Barrel Vault, as news filtered through that our other relegation rival was losing/ had lost at Southend in the late kick-off
Eight years in the National, each season is our last goes the song, but this really will be our last if not for an improbable set of results on the Early May Bank Holiday; kudos to the players and management team for not giving up, but the fact it'll probably be a case of 'close but no cigar' only adds to my sense of frustration – yes, we've been punching admirably above our weight as a part-time club in the National League, and yes, there are some legitimate excuses (injuries, Boston's stupendous form under Graham Coughlan, questionable refereeing decisions that haven't evened themselves out over the season, etc.), but, despite the substandard recruitment last summer and in January, I think there are at least four teams that we coulda/ woulda/ shoulda finished above
Eubank vs Benn on TV in Stripes for the 'Middle Youth' (a phrase nicked from Wealdstone) before they joined us in the Portland Arms; Napoleon danced to Canned Heat by Jamiroquai, and a Robbie Williams super fan – Ryan Dino-Rider – led the pub in a rousing version of Angels ("I'm loving Maid'n'ead instead")
The Farm's All Together Now also got the karaoke treatment, as usual, in tribute to the much-missed Scouse Mick (who was a fine fancy dresser), but it is a line from another song performed by Pingu – James' Sit Down – that resonates most strongly as National League relegation looms large for the Magpies: If I hadn't seen such riches, I could live with being poor
64' | A much more relaxed atmosphere in the away end at Stonebridge Road where someone dressed as Michael van Gerwen is leading a conga around the open terrace.
— Maidenhead United (@MUFCYorkRoad) April 26, 2025
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