It was that time of year for my furthest-away away day this season. Since the demise of poor Yeovil from the Super League, Brighton has become the mammoth trek I undertake. This time, Kate was fully on board as I had promised a weekend of sun (not likely), sea (very dependent on the first) and of course football. In order to make the most of our weekend away as well as it being cost effective we were up at the crack of dawn on the Saturday. The coach at quarter past 6 was not an easy one to stomach. We decided to go fancy by going by national express rather than a Megabus [Allie really does treat me like a princess, folks – Kate]. Like, you actually get a break on these ones to buy all of that service station nonsense you don’t ever need but mysteriously want once you cross that threshold. I just stuck with a double shot coffee to perk me up.

After a fairly smooth coach journey (which was a rarity I enjoyed having even if it doesn’t make for entertaining reading) We were in Victoria ready to head down to the seafront. However not before being outraged at the ticket cost to get to the great big blue. 50 quid!! For a forty minute journey!! The rail company may as well have a black mask and swag bag. Once I got over that shock, I had to have a bar of chocolate to regain focus. Ah, national rail ruining my bank balance and my waist line.

Finally in Brighton, we began our weekend in the place noted for fresh air and fun. (Five points to Hufflepuff if you get that reference.) I shall not bore you with those details as that not why you read this fine publication. I shall only give the highlights.
After being stung by Thameslink trains earlier, I told Kate I was to not spend any money on non-essential items. Let’s see how long this lasts.

Well…it lasts about the time it took us to walk from the station to the local second-hand shop. I tried to resist, dear readers, but they had stacks of old movie magazines. When I am not running up and down the country I watch black and white movies. If it was made after 1965 I generally don’t want to know. I told you I was cool. So, with my wallet even lighter, we head off to our accommodation.

Further highlights of our trip on the south coast were; lots of rain, some delicious Lebanese food and a trip to Brighton pier where, to escape the rain we found refuge in the amusements where we whiled away our time with the 2p machines. After all, it would rude not to. Half an hour later we came away with three packets of Tango flavoured jelly beans, three lollipops and a yo-yo. Can you tell how happy we are with our winnings.

Finally after a long day it was time to retire ready for the even longer day ahead.
Up bright and not so early on the Sunday, we went in search of some breakfast. After contemplating multiple options we finally settled on what we thought would be a nice simple place. After ordering toast with tea and a chai latte, we settled in to discuss the day ahead. Our food came and we thought nothing of it. Until I took a swig of my chai latte. Then almost promptly spat it back into the mug.

“What in god’s name is that?”
Kate looks at me like I lost my head “Chai latte like you asked for.”
“It bloody well isn’t it. And if it is worst one I have ever had.”
Kate takes a swig and pulls a face. I just look at her smugly with an I told you so face.
“I think that is a normal latte and she’s just dumped the chai mix in.” Twas not the nicest of experiences. With mediocre toast which was more liked scared bread, we had failed on the breakfast front.

After that joyfulness we headed off to get our train to Three Bridges. I wanted to get every last penny out those 50 quid tickets so we were gonna do what was our National Rail given right to do and have a break in journey. Perfectly legal and perfectly confusing to the ticket gate man, who tried to take our return tickets from us. I was about to quote the rule of carriage [Yes friends, I am dating (and you are reading the blog of) a rail nerd – Kate] at him until he waved us through the barrier. Either he didn’t fancy the argument or he knew I was right. I am going with the former.

We then had to work out our away to Crawley Town FC. I had been before, I knew there was bus. What direction that bus went and where you pick it up from? Nope, not a clue. After some bungling, we finally find the stop. At which we found there would be a 20-minute wait. In the rain. A very brief consultation decided that we would cab it. Which is a fine decision – the cab it however was not. Firstly, the driver chastised us for waiting in an awkward spot. When Kate explained we didn’t know as we were not local folk he still just kept repeating that we should be waiting in a more convenient place. Over and over again. After the longest 10 minutes ever we finally reach the ground. Where the driver just gestures wildly as where he us going to drop us off. Once again we explain we are foreigners in these parts. Still, no help so we tell him to chuck us out somewhere near the ground.

Second issue to arise was our giant backpack. Would they allow our camping monstrosity to be allowed through the gates? Turns out if you distract the steward with all the pretty and eclectic badges [Particularly the sparkly dragon one – Kate] on your other bag they wave you on through. Result for us, though slightly terrifying as we could have had anything that bag.

Finally through the gates, we wander down to where West Ham was warming up. After having a nice chat with Avit and being roped into being on his podcast we were joined by some follow hammers Mark and Emma (different people from the previously mentioned Emma and Mark) and took our seats for the game.

Where we saw my old nemesis the Brighton mascot. As you can read from my previous adventure on the south coast I managed to offend the seagull by giving them the crossed hammers. Well as said seagull came around again. Kate gave me the warning glare of don’t antagonize the mascot. But I couldn’t help it, folks, the crossed hammers came out. This time the seagull had a bit more of a sense of humour and just banged on the Brighton badge in retaliation. Well played, Sally Seagull, well played.

We were joined by more hammers so we could be strong in voice. Unfortunately, Reece my partner in crime from the American Hammers could not join us. He claims it was train issues, I say he didn’t want to face the cold on the south coast.

The girls troop out in claret and pink this time wearing the new breast cancer awareness shirt. Great idea, noble cause but maybe with different shorts. Claret and Pink did clash rather. Right coin has been tossed game on.

FIRST HALF

We started brightly against the seagulls and Martha Thomas gave them trouble from the start causing their defenders to go in for some bone-crunching tackles. However, it was Brighton who had the first clear chance of the game. Whelan with a powerful shot from outside the box rattling our crossbar. This seemed to shake the team slightly and we ended up making some tackles that we’re dangerously close to red card offences. Our German defender Laura Vetterlein went leg clattering challenge on Brighton’s Umotong which she was lucky to only earn her a yellow.

We as fans decided we needed to gee them up a bit. So we started to sing. A lot. It started with standard Bubbles and We Love You, West Ham. Mark, on the other hand, was prepared with some of his own for each player. My personal favourite is for Gilly, I just can’t get the timing right. [Any former boy scout should be able to get the hang of it pretty quickly though – Kate]

Well it seemed to work as five minutes later Martha Thomas scored a beauty of a goal. Catching Brighton off guard with Alisha bombing it up the pitch from a goal kick. A swift pass to Martha who smashed it home smack bang in the centre of the goal.

0-1 to the girls in claret and pink.

This seemed to liven the game up and both sets of players were gunning for possession which led to some very tasty football let me tell you. We carried on chanting for them to get the ball moving once again. Except Kate. Kate sat there cold. [It was CHUFFIN FREEZIN my love, I was singing internally – Kate]

Finally, the whistle blew for half time and the girls all trooped in to get warm.

HALF TIME

Emma kindly offered to go get us a brew and Kate was turning slightly blue from cold. So much so she had cracked out a blanket and big winter coat. With her glasses which she needs to watch the game, she looked like an owl. Her words not mine. Which led to the discussion of classic children literature. Who says West Ham fans aren’t civilised. Anyone else remember the owl who was afraid of the dark? [His name was Plop and I loved him very much when I was six years old – Kate] Anyway with tea in hand, the girls back out, we are ready for the second half.

SECOND HALF

Once again this game started to get physical from the offset. Within the first five minutes, we had a shot inching wide, a free kick awarded due to a bad foul and then three fouls awarded against us. Phew!

Then 15 minutes in, disaster struck. It seems that Brighton had held on to that foul by Laura Vetterlein and had been gunning for her all game. A ferocious foul in the 60th minute knocked her out cold. A tense few minutes whilst the medics were on the pitch working on getting her round. The relief was palpable when she managed to walk off the pitch herself for her own substitution. On comes Hendrix who has been in phenomenal form so here is hoping that was about to continue.

Ten minutes later we caught another break as Brighton were getting desperate. A nasty challenge by Kerkdijk to stop Martha who was on goal meant a pen to us.

We all looked around at each other slightly confused. Do we have a dedicated pen taker? Our money was on Cho after her fantastic one versus Reading last year. However, it was Dali who stepped up. Cool as you like, no stuttering, she sends the keeper the wrong way and slots it home in the right hand corner.

0-2 to the Cockney girls. Which is exactly what we sing at them. We haven’t shut up all game. In fact Reece tells me we have made the FA Player commentator stop a few times as we drowned them out.

Three minutes later we get our third. Alisha who had been looking sluggish all game perked up when Leon came on the pitch. Some quick play from out back and our Norwegian superstar Kvamme made a punt up the right flank. This fell beautifully to Alisha who scored with a powerful shot from outside the box.

0-3 to the visitors. We were cruising, and us little group of about 12 were out shouting the entire home crowd. Except for Kate who was still sat there cold. She was enjoying herself honest. [I was! I can be cold and enjoy the football at the same time! – Kate]

We kept that edge up until the 93rd moment when a scrappy clearance led to Brighton getting one back. Which was the final score down on the south coast.

As the players did their lap of honour we treated them to a rousing rendition of Bubbles ,which I am sure they appreciated – we even had a few of them singing along.

With that, we trooped out of the ground to hopefully get a nicer Uber driver to head back home via Birmingham.

How Claret is Kate? She sat through the entire match and cheered at the right moments. We are getting her there folks.

You join us today on a day of split loyalties, as you see it is the game that sees the Bluenoses come to town. Which means the little pocket rocket, the human dynamo, the all-round sweetheart Bri Visalli would be returning to her old stomping ground.

Except…we love Bri, but we love West Ham more. So, maybe not-so-split loyalties at all.

This time it’s not just me and Kate, but mum was making use of being a season ticket holder and coming with us for the first home match. Which could only mean one thing. I was going to get picked on today.

Things were chugging along nicely without incident until we reached our first stop. Service stations are condensed microcosm of society all coming together to ponder life’s age-old question; do I really want to pay £1.50 for a Kit Kat? 

I also believe people leave their manners at the door of service stations. Maybe because they are tired, maybe because they know that they won’t need to return. Or maybe they haven’t discovered the word ‘please’ in their vocabulary. Either way, we had yet another coffee shop incident. I feel these maybe these will replace the odd ducks on the Megabus.

For this week’s guest on the service station hall of shame, we have a tourist at the Corley south services. As we wait patiently for our drinks, a woman comes barrelling in front of us, looked peeved to say the least.

“No ice in my coffee, why is there Ice in my coffee.”

We all look at her coffee that she is holding. It’s iced coffee folks, it’s not like someone put ice cubes in her soya caramel macchiato – which by the by is my drink of choice if anyone sees me in a coffee shop and wants to bring me a pick me. 

Back to the angry ice lady. The barista explained that iced coffee contains…you know…ice, but she was not having it. So the poor barista had to scoop out all the ice cubes of this coffee and handed it back. The coffee was then promptly returned to the barista demanding it be topped up with coffee. For a third time, the coffee handed back and not even words this time just gesturing she wants it wiped down. The poor barista was so flustered when she got to us I felt we had to be even kinder to her then we would be normally, and we are pretty damn cordial.

Other than the bizarre coffee lady we made it to Rush Green with no major incidents, only to discover that we were dressed completely inappropriately. You see, coming from the North at such early hours it is inevitably raining. So you dress accordingly, i.e. not to get pneumonia. However, when you go south of Watford Gap the clouds part and the magical yellow ball in the sky appears. Basically, what I could’ve said in three words is. IT GOT HOT. [Typical Allie. Why use 3 words when 60 could do the same job? – A very sleepy proofreading Kate]

We roll into Rush Green where I am greeted not by one Ambiguous Staff Member but two. Original Ambiguous Staff Member (from hereon in known as O.A.S.M.) greeted us by warning the ball girls that we were trouble. The aspersions cast on my character I tell ye. This was then compounded by another staff member who shall be known as N.A.S.M. Once again casting aspersions that us three were trouble. Well, just me as I was the only consistent fixture. I shall not stand for the sullying of my reputation. I am nothing but courteous to the staff. I might be a little rambunctious but what West Ham fan isn’t.

We finally get into the hallowed halls of Rush Green in time to see old favourite Bri Visalli in her new kit come out of the tunnel. She looks bamboozled as we cheer her name, we put this down to the heatt. We also found Ed with his brand-new pro camera. Oh goodie, more pictures for me to steal. As per usual we traipse around to follow Ed to get his perfect angle. Today was behind the far end goal in the blazing heat, things I do for good pictures.

Whilst waiting for the kickoff, we talk about the other fixtures we are going to. For me obviously all of them, Kate as well. [This is a bare-faced lie. See below. – Kate] Mum as many she can stomach the coach for. Ed as many as he could amidst the four teams he was flitting between. This led to a discussion about  the big game in March at Leigh.

“Yeah, the Manchester United game falls on Mothers’ day this year. So, A) I don’t have to abandon my mother this year and B) we can have the bonding experience of being beaten up by marauding Man U fans.”

Ed gives me a withering look.

“Because Chelsea away was on Mothers’ day last year” I explain. Though thinking about it now I think Ed’s judgement may have been more about the second half of my statement than the first.

The Birmingham subs were finishing their warm-up when one of them skies the ball over the crossbar as if they were going for a three-point field goal. Quick as a flash, a blur in a tracksuit jumps the hoardings and vaults over the seven-foot-high wall behind us. Which is no mean feat.

“Is that Rach Wiliams?” says I.
“What’s she doing? They have stewards for that” says mother.
“God knows what’s behind there, she could do herself an injury.” says Kate.
Ed says nothing.

A ball comes flying over, and then so does the blur in a blue tracksuit. It IS Rach Williams.

“Hey Rach, it’s a good thing that knee’s better.” says I.

She turns and gives us a thumbs-up. “Definitely couldn’t do that if it wasn’t!” and as quickly she appeared she disappeared.

My mother turns to me, “Do you know her?”

Kate laughs. [I don’t believe there’s anyone in the world Allie hasn’t met – Kate]

“Nope, that there just Rach Williams, England legend and an all-round good egg.” I have briefly met her before. See blog post here.

Finally, the teams are lining up, Bubbles is blaring, we are ready to go.

FIRST HALF

We begin pretty even stevens from kick-off. An attempt on goal from us is matched by their attempt goal. A foul by our midfielder resulting in a free-kick against us was later played in reverse with a foul by their midfielder conceding a free-kick to us. Once again Martha Thomas was winding up defenders to the point of frustration. Her speed alone was causing some very sloppy fouls. Before the first half of the first half is out, Birmingham captain Kerys Harrop has been carded for a bad foul trying to outpace our number 9.

After many foiled attempts from the girls in claret and blue (OK, like…four) [The rabbits in Watership Down count 1-2-3-many…Is Allie a Rabbit? – Kate] we finally broke through the iron-clad Birmingham defence.  Once again Thomas showing her absolute class in winding up the Birmingham midfield working on a cracking run from the centre spot. A slip pass to Dri Leon who found the bottom left corner.

1-0 to the cockney girls.

This spurred Birmingham into overdrive trying to claw back into the game. In the space of five minutes they had four attempts at goal. All were denied by our super new keeper Courtney Brosnan.

During the dying seconds of the half, Bri Visalli came barrelling down the left flank. Looking dangerous with her speed, she was attempting to execute one of her trademark pinpoint crosses into the box. Except she had not contended with her former midfield compatriot who shall remain nameless. Said midfielder went in for a bruising tackle and Bri ended up in the dugout. Welcome back Bri.

HALF TIME

Very uneventful half time. We swapped ends, we wound up O.A.S.M. and we cooed over the diddiest ball girl. [SO DIDDY, honestly I was close to tears – Kate] 15 mins just flew by.

SECOND HALF

Keeping up our dominant display from the whistle. The Skipper Gilly almost replicated her headed goal at Chelsea last season. Denied by Birmingham’s young keeper with a fingertip save.

Leon was denied two minutes later; her shot was just wide, dragging across the goalmouth after a West Ham set piece.

We had a muddled middle in this game. End to end with silly free-kicks and unnecessary corners from both sides trying to cement the points. Birmingham City was probably the team on top to be honest. Edging further and further into our third. Things started to get frantic and then PANIC! We could see a player on the floor and Courtney frantically beckoning the ref over.

“Who’s down? I can’t see from here.” I ask. Kate using all of her 5ft 11 ness to stretch over and see. [Technically I’m 5’10” but I’m happy for any of you to think of me as 5’11” if you want – Kate]

“Looks like its Gilly, she is clutching her face.”

After some long agonizing moments, Gilly clambered to her feet, looking slightly dazed but ready to carry on. We all let out the breath we didn’t know we were collectively holding. It later transpired that Bri might have allegedly been the cause of it by accidentally kicking Gilly in the face. Oops.

In the last dying seconds, drama occurred. The controversial decision over whether the Staniforth goal should have stood or not.

Lucy Stan’s (the people’s republic of) long range shot seemed to skim past Courtney’s outstretched hand. Except she pushed it into the goal post and out for a corner kick. Everything was such scramble we couldn’t see clearly. Birmingham celebrated the goal, West Ham cried that it was never over the line. Shockingly the referee sided with us and indicated no goal. The resulting corner ended in nothing and the final whistle blew.

Our first win of the season.

Afterwards, we waited to see Bri as it had been a long summer since we last had the pleasure. Of course, Bri was still super popular so we were waiting a little while.

Never fret as this gave us a chance to catch up with captain fantastic Gilly after her blow to the face. She had a thumping headache and was a little dazed but she was still raring to go.

As she was leaving she asked who was coming to the Conti Cup match the following week. Ed bowed out stating he was off to watch one of his many teams. Gilly turns to me

“You’re coming, right?” I shake my head. She looks shocked. “What do you mean you’re not coming?”

“Sorry Gil, I’m away. This one booked a weekend away in Edinburgh’

Gilly looks at Kate, “Oh I see how it is, you get yourself a girlfriend and suddenly you’re skipping games.”

Kate felt well and truly admonished. I am sure Gill loves you really, hun. [For the record, I did consult Allie before we booked the tickets – we both forgot that the Conti Cup fixtures hadn’t been announced yet. – Kate]

After a little while, Bri finally makes her way around to us. After a round of hugs, she smiles at Kate.

“Finally, get to meet you after seeing all of you on the social media posts.” Kate also gets a massive hug. Bri laments on the game and try and cheer her up and show her I am wearing last year’s shirt with her name on the back.

“That’s great but we didn’t win.”

I laugh “Yeah but we did.” She glares at me but I placate her with a hug.

After a long chat it was time to go home. Via many attempts of finding a Luton Chippy. Just don’t ask 

Next time it’s the big one. We take on Tottenham in the London Stadium.

How claret is Kate? Well after the ’telling off’ from Gilly not very I would say. [Look, I just edited 2,000 words at 10pm, if that isn’t dedication I don’t know what is. – Kate]

Ah is that a strange dummy sat on top of an ATV on top of 18 wheeler? Do I spy the Bescot stadium? That’s right we are back on the road – and the dreaded M6 no less. Preseason has fallen upon us and for West Ham, most of our friendlies have been played behind closed doors and the season starts next week. It has been a short off-season this year, although my withdrawal symptoms are as strong as ever. I mean, the World Cup filled a little of that gap but nobody is quite like my girls.

However, there is one important difference in my adventures this season. I am no longer a lone ranger, a one-woman crusader, the single nutter on the bus. For France brought a rather beautiful change in my life, in the form of my new girlfriend Kate. We met in the most romantic city of Paris, at a watching party for France vs Norway and the rest as they say is history.

Both southerners in the north, we had been circling each other for a while it seems, with many near misses at gigs, football matches and just Mancunian life. Meeting at the World Cup was important as it answers the one question everyone – and I mean EVERYONE – has asked since;

Does she like Women’s football? Or are you going to have cut down on your footballing?

Dear readers, I would never compromise like that! …And also she is totally down. A former Man City fan (well she will be by the end of the season), Kate has not only agreed to go all games with me but also do all the driving. Result! Fewer Megabuses for me. In celebration of this development we will have a new feature on the blog – the how-Claret-is-Kate scale. But more of that later.

We start at a more respectable 9am instead of the usual eye-watering 5am. I am loving this deal already. With our packed lunch (no more double hash brown bagels for me) and an eclectic mix of songs on our driving playlist, we were off.

All was going swimmingly, so swimmingly readers I thought I would have nothing to tell you. Would my new relationship status, whilst making me extraordinarily happy, make me a very dull writer? I mean Kate must be slightly insane to agree but she’s not methadone lady level of crazy. A refresher for anyone who has forgot

Fear, not loyal readers as one of our scheduled stops was at a service station which had just been infiltrated by a coach party. You could hear the moaning from the other side of the service station before you saw the twin-set-and-pearls set. Just buying a coffee was a palaver, with the two in front of me firstly not deciding what queue they wanted to be in. Then tripping over my feet and glaring at such an affront when I was minding my own business. The pièce de résistance was hearing one of them demanding more coffee in her latte. No pleasantries or manners from these women, just a short harsh bark of COFFEE. Kind of made me miss the Megabus. I mean, we get all sorts of fruits and nuts on there but at least they are polite.

After being shocked by such behaviour, we made a quick getaway to try and find a more calm, serene and accepting space. Kate decided to take me on a whistle-stop tour of her home town. Great, except Kate is from LUTON. So much for that then. [Look, I showed you the nice bits. There were trees! – Kate] Actually after a quite glorious detour, we finally made it to Rush Green. It was like I had never been away. To be honest I felt like a bit of a celebrity, being welcomed back by all staff members, laughing that here I was back for another season.

Finally, in the ground, we went to find Ed who was very excited to have been given permission by the club to use his proper camera. Which in turn made me excited as it meant photos I could steal. A total win-win situation in my book. Ed just rolled his eyes and told me to take what I needed as usual – he loves me really, folks. I will tell you what I am not loving mind is the instant pick-on-Allie relationship Ed and Kate built. This is not what I expect from my girlfriend and my photographer/sometimes train buddy/only Chelsea fan I can really stomach. (Rich you don’t count as your main team is the mighty Wolves.) In somewhat of a huff I went in search of Miles. Miles is one of the assistant coaches who I become quite friendly with last season. In fact, it was him that told the staff and team what a dedicated follower I was. I credit him for allowing me to create such a relationship with the club as a whole.

I find Miles down by the hoardings as he was getting ready to take his place on the bench.

“Think you can get away with not saying hello?”

He looks and smiled giving me a hug.

“Surprised you made the trip down” I give him a look. Laughing, he hugs me goodbye as I wish him luck.

Back to the two chuckle brothers [Do I get to be Barry? – Kate] who seemed have bonded far too quickly for my liking, I take my place to watch the match.

FIRST HALF

We came bursting straight out the gate, our new attack looking fearsome against an unsure Tottenham defence. Our new number nine Martha Thomas was absolute fire cutting through the middle and linking perfectly with Adriana Leon on wing. It was one of the most confident performances I had seen the team play, we certainly could hear Spurs’ Gemma Davison getting rattled.

All of our summer signings were chomping at the bit to make an impression. The first one to do so was Jacynta (yes I am copping out of her surname) our Australian wonderkid slid through their midfield like a hot knife through butter. There must be something about wearing the number 15 at our gaff. Having been Bri Visalli’s number last year, she was certainly our little dynamo.

Another stand out was our new second keeper (Anna has been promoted quite rightly to the number one both in theoretical placing and her physical number). Courtney Brosnan is a young, hungry keeper who whilst she wasn’t troubled much in the first half, kept composed to make some beautiful saves.

The breakthrough came on the 23rd minute with a lovely piece of interplay between Thomas and midfielder Tess Middag.  Middag was supposed to be one of our big hitters last season, but unfortunately an ACL tear on international duty put paid to her starting last season. Having her fit and healthy means we now have a more definitive midfield. Holding up play, Middag floated the ball down the middle of the pitch and Thomas found herself on the edge of the box to curl a right-hand shot under the keeper.

1-0 to the cockney girls.

After that we kept getting stronger and had the majority of the possession, our plays quick and slick but we just couldn’t quite crack the defence again.

Towards the end of the half Tottenham had their first real chance of the day. Lucy Quinn, Tottenham’s new export from Birmingham, cut past our defence but ended up skying the final shot. With that the ref blew for half time.

HALF TIME

It was at this point Emma rocked up to join us having been caught up in weekend traffic. Emma was not as enamoured by our performance as I was. The team looked too leggy according to this one. I, on the other hand, was eager for the new season to start, encouraged by what I had seen. Emma also joined the ‘Let’s mock Allie club’. Why am I friends with these people again? I miss Mrs. Raff, she would have defended me.

Ed decided he wanted to move round to the other side of the ground, for lighting or angles or some such. We all trooped around with him, with only minor complaining. As we wandered a familiar face was coming to towards us, well two familiar faces. The Kmita twins, Mollie and Rosie, had come down on their weekend off to see their old club. After quick chat and hug we left them be, though this blogger would like to take a moment to wish Rosie the best of luck for her season with the Bees.

SECOND HALF

With the game underway and a change of goalkeeper, West Ham almost lost the lead from the off, with Quinn mirroring her action from the last half. This was quickly collected into the safe hands of Anna Moorehouse.

We immediately countered with Leon running down the wing but her attack was snuffed out by the Spurs defender Siri Worm with a fearsome tackle. Leon continued to look our biggest threat up front, finding herself one-on-one with the keeper. However, overexertion meant she toppled herself before she could get a shot off.

We were eventually made to pay for the shots we didn’t take. At 81 minutes a miscommunication between Moorhouse and the back three lead to a scrappy goal for the North London club.

1-1

This was then further exploited by Tottenham, whose own player named Leon found a hole and exploited a weak link in our backline and squeezed a low shot which escaped Anna’s outstretched hand.

1-2

That’s where it ended folks, a loss snatched out of the jaws of victory. We all finished sort of feeling so slightly mopey.

However, I had a mission given to me by the footballing gods. One reason I managed to convince Kate to reconsider her Manchester City support (which was just a marriage of convenience anyway; a sensible enough choice for a new football fan who only lives 3 miles from the Etihad) was because of our captain Gilly. For our captain is better than yours, which is true for all clubs to be fair. To quote Kate: “I would follow Gilly Flaherty into battle”. The devotion was strong. [Look, here’s the thing. Come the revolution we’re gonna need strong leaders and my gut tells me Gilly would rise to the challenge. – Kate]

My birthday present this year had been a new away shirt with Flaherty 5 on the back, which had been my end of the bargain I had made with Gill last season. So I had to show off and make Kate blush. Two birds, one stone. We made our way to our captain and she smiled when she saw me and gave me a hug.

She turned to Kate and stuck out a hand.
“So you’re Kate, the one I have to say hi to.” So yeah, I might have had a word with her before this meeting. Kate to her credit did manage to get through this meeting with dignity intact. Yes, before people ask, I did tell Gilly about Kate’s militaristic statement towards her. As anyone who’s read my previous blogs will know, I am a bit of a git.

After having got the standard player-pointing-at-my-back photo, we bid Gilly adieu.

Knowing what a long drive we had back, we took only a brief rest break in the Club house. As standard, we caught up with the Longhursts as well as Julia our number 10, who spent most of the game as a ball girl. Clearly, the ambiguous staff member was right there is no age limit on the job. Find previous post here  Also see a picture here

As I stood nursing my drink, I hear a little shriek and Alisha Lehman, our number 7, come rushing forward to give me a hug. She turned me around and lightly slapped me on the shoulder.

“What did you do?” The Swiss International’s eyes narrowed at me.

I look confused. What had I done?

“Your shirt, Why is it a number 5?”
I laugh at the realisation of what she means.

“Should it be a number 7?” She nods empathically and won’t let me leave until I agree upon my home shirt being her.

With that we bid our farewells and head back on the not so lonesome road.

How-Claret-Is-Kate Scale: Still doesn’t know the words to blowing bubbles but conceded the team are good eggs.

Next time, We head back to Borehamwod to take on the Champions and I will be attempting to seize control of the road tunes [You get control of the road tunes when you learn to drive – Kate]. Wish me luck!!!

Today was the day…. what all the preparation and training all season has come to, No not the girls and their final! No dear readers I am talking about me and preparing to travel on the Megabus overnight, because yes friends I was blighted by another set of engineering works. Thank you National Rail.

 As the FA in their infinite wisdom had put the last home game of the Premier league on the same day. Despite pleading with Southampton, no arrangement could be made to move the kick off time. My mother decided that she would instead come and support the girls despite previous protestations that she would go to the men’s game we had tickets for..

This was for three reasons:

One: She had not been particularly impressed with the whole layout of the London Stadium. The atmosphere nor the match itself.

Two: When were West Ham last at Wembley and when were they likely to be again? You have to take all trophy moments when they appear.

Three: I think she had developed a soft spot for our girls and actually preferred the idea of seeing them play over the boys.

Not such an early start this time as it was going to be such a late end, and with no major bank holiday traffic we were cruising with no serious issues.   Off to Wembley! But dear readers if only life was that simple; I mean I was travelling on match day with mum. On a coach, something was bound to go wrong.

Around three hours into the journey, this woman starts barreling down the aisle of the bus screaming.

’ It’s a medical emergency stop the bus, Stop the bus.’

The driver slams on his brakes,  moving over to the hard shoulder.

’ I have left my silver make up bag at the coach station and it has my medication in it. I need my medication. I will go into withdrawal without it. It has my methadone and morphine in it.’

Well, way to overshare lady. The whole bus shifted then. Like we weren’t meant to be listening but we couldn’t help it.

The driver tried to calm her down but to no avail. In the end he had to radio through and ask the driver of the next coach to bring it down. A long wait in Victoria was instore for this lady.
She came back up the stairs looking a little relieved.

’ I can’t believe I did that, that’s like the stupidest thing I have ever done.’ she says to no one in particular.

I turn to mother  ‘she is on methadone I am gonna assume there have been stupider things’

Cruel yes but it made my mother giggle.

After that little drama we were only half an hour late. Though the number of messages I had from Crick you would think it was hours.

’ Who keeps messaging you?’ mother laughs as I roll my eyes as my watch buzzes for what feels like the fiftieth time. Yes I have an Apple watch! I am one of those people.

“Crick, she’s bored at Wembley I think. All of her group are coming from the North so she’s on her own”. As I reply for the fiftieth time. No we are not there yet. I can’t be too mad at Crick as it turns out she was trying to surprise us and meet us off the coach. Except she couldn’t find arrivals and by the time she did we had buggered off.

After some garbled directions involving a Starbucks, a Pret and not knowing my left from my right. Crick by the grace of God finally found us. Which led to her and my mother becoming a super team, of making fun of me. I am so hard done by, you wouldn’t believe. Crick had declared herself very much team Suzanne so the teasing was relentless. Which is why I get my own back on my blog 😏.

As we trotted off to Wembley,  Crick and I made a pact. That no matter who won and who lost, we could be happy for the other person and we wouldn’t gloat. I particularly emphasized to Crick if she particularly wanted my mother to continue to like her there will be no gloating.

Walking up to the stadium the atmosphere was electric and a lot more claret and blue then sky blue could be seen. This was probably due it bring local for ’us’ and there were no trains for them. Still the Cockney sparrows were in full voice and ready for battle.

My aunt and cousin had decided to see what all the fuss was about having seen my ongoing travels, I suppose also it was a chance to have a Wembley day out. They did seem a bit shell shocked to meet my other family in claret and blue.

’Allie is the quiet one in our family’ my aunt says to the motley crew I had assembled which consisted Geoff and Deb ( Kate, our number 12’s parents), Ian ( honorary Hammer, really supports Liverpool), Emma, Mark, JT ( also known as Flag man) Lucy (our newbie ) and Crick ( the interloper).

JT laughed and looked at my aunt in shock.

“Her? Quiet! No chance can hear her halfway around the stadium most games”

I nod my head bashfully.

’You’ve never heard me at a footie match’

As we were soaking up the atmosphere both going in, Emma dropped the bombshell that she had secured an interview with the insert team name football team, for an article in the Sun newspaper. More importantly, she wanted me to do it with her.
Despite my trepidation, it actually went really well and the actually included a lot of my nerdy knowledge on the women’s game. If you are interested you read it on the new media page on the site.

Finally, it was time to go into the stadium. The butterflies in my stomach had turned into great big birds. Sure we were the underdogs but maybe we could do something.

FIRST HALF

We started out strong as Man City with both teams on the attack from the whistle. Nikita Parris for City being the first to break forward, thankfully she did what she is prone to doing and was flagged offside. You could hear the infamous Nikita scream of frustration around the stadium.

’ oh do shut up ‘Keets, just get on with it’ Ian said rolling his eyes. He wasn’t here for Parris’s play acting.

Side Note: When it was announced that Nikita was moving to Lyon a tweet went round applauding the left backs who would no longer have to waste game time waving at her to get up. Nikita is no doubt a talented player but when she doesn’t get her own way she tends to resort to simulation.   – insert tweet link?

Side Note to the Side Note: Crick is going to kill me for that and mention all the things Alisha Lehman did in this final, but this not a Man City blog. As much I might have my sky blue family, this is adventures in CLARET AND BLUE.

We responded immediately after the Parris offside, if Jane Ross could have been touch quicker with her response to a Ria Percival cross we might have been one up. Instead, it went out of play.

Man City seemed rather sluggish this first half, their fierceness didn’t seem to be there and they were getting sloppy. We definitely tried to push forward and take advantage of this but we just couldn’t quite make it work.

The one player on their team awake was Parris who was definitely not backwards in coming forwards and was getting behind our back line far easier than I would have liked. However a bone-crunching tackle by Gilly, our captain fantastic, soon put paid to that.

It was half an hour in when we had our best chance. Erin Simon pinged a beautiful cross on the right flank, Jane Ross jumped up and executed the perfect header. We were sure it was going to go in. What we hadn’t factored in was the cat-like abilities of Karen Bardsley who pulled off the save of the game. Showing the crowd the reason why she is the England number one. (Hey Crick does that make up for the Nikita crack?).

Gilly was by far our most vital player and was running her back line with military precision, snuffing out a push on the attack from the England midfielder Jill Scott. Manchester City still weren’t showing their flare just yet and we were showing our East London grit to frustrate them.  Frustrate them we did as a few moments later, Jennifer Beattie went in for a heavy challenge to take down our number seven Alisha Lehman. Now here is some contention, my Manchester City friends say Alisha dived for it. I say have you seen the size of Jen Beattie compared our Swiss Wizard. We shall agree to disagree.

We finish the half on the an even keel with no one breaking the deadlock.

0-0

HALF TIME.

We were all a bag of nerves at half time, we had played well, better than the previous times we had played City. Silly mistakes were creeping in though, mainly that Anna would not stay on her goal line and kept dashing out.

We were sat in front of some very friendly Americans who were all kitted out in West Ham gear. Mark who will talk to anyone asked how they ended up supporting West Ham. Turns out we sat with Erin Simon’s, brother, uncle and best friend. It’s a good thing we had been very complementary about her as that could of been awkward and I have been caught out like that before.

Once on the stands at Man City, I was making a crack about Ellie Roebuck’s height and was elbowed rather viciously by Crick in the ribs. Outraged I turned to look at her with all the indignation I could muster. Like Paddington levels of a hard stare. She just rolled her eyes at me.

‘Her dad is right in front of us you prat‘ Ok she didn’t call me a prat but I do try and keep this blog vaguely PG.

At half time Ian, Mark, Emma and Lucy all went to the concessions. Ian on hunt for food, the others on the hunt for beer. Me I just sat and nursed a tension headache. This game was getting to me. It was nearer the second half and they still hadn’t returned. Not that i particularly cared I just continued to feel sick.

SECOND HALF

This part is hard to write as it is heart-breaking as a West Ham fan to write. The gang just about made it back five minutes after the whistle rang to commence the second half. We honestly went to pieces this half and Manchester City kicked their pace up and showed why they had been a force to be reckoned with all season. They may have lost their chance at the treble but they were determined to do the tournament double.

We had the first chance with Leon firing over the bar after a beautiful run down the flank by Lehman from our own half. However this was the only shot we had pretty much all half.

The first goal was conceded around the 50 min mark. Keira Walsh fired a long range shout from outside the area which evaded Anna Moorhouse’s out stretched hand.

0-1 to Manchester City.

We switched out Raff for Bri at this point, hoping the pocket rocket could launch a fire under the flagging team. Her pace seemed to confuse Manchester City and we had a decent run of possession but we couldn’t break the brick wall that was McManus, Houghton, and, Beattie. Leon again was threatening and pinged a brilliant cross into the box at 66 minutes but unfortunately no one was thereto meet it.

We then tried again to attack with pace swapping one Celtic international in Scotland’s Jane Ross with another in Ireland’s Leanne Kiernan. Brilliant play from both a little firecrackers out pacing their markers beautifully but we couldn’t quite make anything happen.

We went two nil down after the 80th minute. Georgia Stanway ( or Georgina Stanway as the announcer called her See previous blog post about standards ) belted the ball from outside the area which has now become her signature. As with Walsh’s goal there was very little Anna could have done.

The third goal, however, was definitely a keeper error. I love Anna and I do not blame her for the loss as we win as a team and we lose as a team. This on the other hand was just painful.

Lauren Hemp had come as a sub for Man City and was playing 1-2 with Beattie. Seeing the oncoming defender in Beattie, Anna rushed out to try snuff out the danger and missed. Left an open goal for Hemp to finish. Me thinks that Anna has spent a bit too much team watching Adrian our second keeper in the Men’s team and not enough time watching our Hammer of the Year Fabrianski.

That’s how it ended 3-0 and our hopes of silverware dashed. Like the song goes I am forever blowing bubbles, they reach the sky and just like my dreams they fade and die.

We as fans nonetheless did not stop cheering and chanting for our girls. We wanted them to know we loved them still, we outshouted, out sang, every other possible fan base in the stadium. As Mum said we made the final, that wasn’t in the first year game plan.

We were heading out to meet Crick who once again promised no gloating. Actually, when we did meet her she said all the right things and was quickly invited to join us for drink.

Whilst en-route to meeting the aforementioned victor, Emma decided to continue to show her dedication to the team. Continuing to yell “IRONS” at the top of her lungs, at random interludes wherever and whenever the urge took her.

My mother looked at me with concern, there were a lot of Sky Blue still kicking about and she was convinced Emma was going to get thumped.  See Mum it’s not just me that antagonises the opposition.

Mum stage whispers to me as Emma chants for what feels like the hundredth time.

’ where did you find her from’

’Twitter’

’explains a lot really’

We all trooped into the fan zone for some overpriced beer and some good conversation. Well lots of winding Crick up, they may have won but she was definitely outnumbered. Still we took come some cool photos to show no hard feelings.

The bar was near where the West Ham girls were having their after game party. So we hung around hoping to commiserate with them before we sent them on their way, respectfully still showing our love.

As we were chatting a woman came up to me noticing my Raff shirt.

’ sorry for interrupting but Claire Rafferty is the bar now. You should go say hi whilst you have the chance. I mean you have her shirt.’

I smile and tell I don’t want to bother her after the loss. That’s what I love about the women’s game everyone looking out for everyone to get their moment. What she didn’t know was I speak to Raff so much that she probably eye rolls when she sees me 😏.

Once again I feel myself being pulled into a big bear hug. I look up and see the twinkling Irish eyes who have hugged me before. Leanne’s mum greeting me like an old friend.

We chatted briefly and again Crick got a bone-cracking hug of her own.

’ I love Leanne’s mum, she’s so lovely ’.

My mother mockingly glared at me ’ I wouldn’t know, I wasn’t introduced’

Whoops

I quickly got pulled into another proactive mamma hug. This time by Pauline (Mama Raff!!) who was equally as welcoming if not more so. I did remember to introduce mum this time. So hopefully out of the doghouse.

Slowly the players came through, I got a hug of Bri and Brooke ( who made a point of coming to say hi. I felt very special.)

Raff came over and started chatting with us. Telling us how unwell she had been game. Suddenly the substitution made sense. Just as she was leaving two important moments with Raff happened.

One: As she was leaving, she made sure she said good to everyone. She hugged those of us who she knew and shook the hands of those she didn’t. Class personified! When she got to Crick she looked her up and down and turned to me.

’ what have we got here then’ looking offended at the interloper. Crick was about to explain herself. When Raff’s facade cracked and started to laugh.

’Nah I am kidding’ she said shaking Crick’s hand. ’Nice to meet you’

Two: she gave us a very important life lesson.

When you lose you booze.

Claire Rafferty England legend ladies and gentlemen!

Just before we left our captain Gilly came over to thank us for our support. She apologised for not getting us the win but told us we would come back bigger and stronger. As she was saying goodbye like Raff hugged who she knew and shook hands with those who she didn’t. Which led to my favourite moment of the night.

As she was shaking hands with Crick, she looked up and pulled her hand back and looked at the group.

’ what the eff is going on here then’ looking at Crick decked out in full Man City kit.

’ Nah Gill she’s good people, She’s good people  ’

She looks at me and something clicks.

’ oh is this your mate from the blog. Alright yeah she’s good’

Crick didn’t speak for like five minutes. Her eyes wide.

’ Gilly Flaherty knew who I was’

’She speaks’

’Oh shut up Gilly knows who I am’

With that bombshell, we left as mother and I faced the lengthy coach home. Which I thought I was well prepared for.

What I wasn’t prepared for was my mother elbowing me in the ribs when she shifted in her sleep and being jolted down the B roads on a massive detour.

Needless to say, the Sunday was a write-off.

Next time its last game of the season, I have a mysterious benefactor, we experience all sorts of weather and Gilly makes this fans year.

#COYI

It’s a West Ham weekend folks. As well as Easter which means only one thing… (no not chocolate, well it might) I was talking about something more quintessentially Easter in the UK, engineering works on major national rail routes. Yay, so Megabus it is.

A blistering early start on Easter Saturday, this time joined by mum and dad. The power of football eh! The coach was insanely packed, the world and his wife having to use them since national rail’s impeccable timing. When you have been on as many coaches as I have in the last few months, you realise it takes a special breed to stomach the four and bit hour journey. Mostly it’s broke students and large families who have afford the more effective and more socially timed transport options, there are also the odd ducklings that make you go huh.

On this coach we were graced with one such duckling; Who firstly almost killed the coach handler with her HUGE suitcase, then fell asleep and started snoring VERY loudly. Finally, she almost got left at Watford Gap services when she ignored the drivers instructions that it was a driver change only, off she toddled into the service station. If it hadn’t been for us passengers she might still be there. It takes all kinds in this world.

For once there was no traffic in London and we actually made it on time. We could take a leisurely wander to Stratford for the West Ham men’s game. It was mummy dearest’s first time in the new ground, so she was more excited for that half of the weekend. Don’t worry fearless readers that opinion has since changed. (Father stayed in Ilford)

I on the other hand, was more excited for the Sunday fixture. Obviously. Well, to be honest, I was more excited about seeing the opposition number 9. Our opponents this Easter weekend were Birmingham City so it was a chance to see Ellen White play, although I got in serious trouble the last time I saw her play at club level. More on that later though, as I suppose I should talk about Saturday as I did bill this post as a West Ham double.

Olympic park still doesn’t feel like home to me. It doesn’t have the bite that Upton park once had. It doesn’t roar, make your heart sing, or strike fear into the soul of opposing teams. We did however at this game unveil our new carpet surround. Tottenham may have the Champions League, Arsenal might have the Europa League.  But we have carpet, claret and blue carpet I don’t think you understand.

Though it is always good to see the boys play live, as we so infrequently get the opportunity but it’s just all a bit soulless. I mean I know it’s for growth but who we kidding we are West Ham! We wouldn’t know what to do with European football. Christ, we got into the Europa pre-qualifying rounds one season due to the fair play rule, scuppered our preseason so bad that the following season we had one of highest foul rates so that never happened again. On a sort of related note, I don’t half miss James Tomkins, hell of a defender.

 I am confident Wolves will do better next season with 3 possible qualify rounds in July to make the Europa league proper. Did I mention my proof reader and lender of the laptop is a Wolves fan? He pays me to let him put in his witty comments, by pay I mean he doesn’t bitch when I bogart his laptop for blogging purposes.

I am not going to do a match review of the Leicester game if you want to know what happened there are numerous newspaper articles telling you. INSERT RANDOM ONE HERE.

Coming away from the match mum turns to me and echoes what I have been saying. The game itself was fun, however she did not like the London Stadium. I suppose if you there week in, week out you get used to it. Not for me I’m afraid.
After a very long journey back to Ilford which involved a TWENTY-FIVE MINUTE queue to get out of the bus station which meant the bus ran over time and had to turf us off in Manor Park. Seriously Stratford bus station has no system for buses at all, I have seen more order at a five year olds birthday party.

Back in Ilford we catch back up with Father dearest who had taken the opportunity to return to his East London roots. Nothing too sentimental just a trip to a Pie and Mash shop, where he tried to convince he had only had one pie one mash not his standard two. He would of got away with it to, if he hadn’t posted a picture on Facebook. Sorry dad not buying the I used a stock photo excuse.

Now the rest of us needed feeding so we braved Ilford high street. Which is an interesting if not overwhelming experience. If Ed thought Barking was bad, may he never grace Ilford on a Saturday.  Suitably scarred by the experience we scuttled back to our hotel.

The following day was equally scorching and the merry band of Cokers head over to Romford. We had a lot of time to kill and on Easter Sunday, there was very little to do to kill said time. After marvelling how much it had changed since we left which took all of five minutes we had to think of something else to do.  As we were deciding our fate for the next couple of hours. I saw a familiar face walking towards me carrying a well-known Seattle coffee chain cup. It did take me a minute but she recognised me right away.

’ Hello trouble’ she smiled
’Hi guys’ the California drawl very out of place in the Essex market town and pulled me into a bear hug. ’ are you down for the game’
It was our number 15 clearly getting a last-minute caffeine boost before the game.
I nod and point to the fact I am in fact wearing her shirt.

’ Excellent choice’ she laughs. We chat briefly before we continue on our separate ways. Now how often does that happen? That not only do you see one of your team, they actually stop and recognise you. Bri had however given us the inspiration of what to do next, we agreed to go get a caffeine boost of our own.

We still didn’t kill that much time and ended up getting to Rush Green early. First one’s in the gate, which meant my dad got to meet the ambiguous staff member who we all know and love. After a bit of gentle teasing of each other, they both started on me. Great it’s like having two dads exactly what I wanted. 😒

However one exciting piece of news was my mother has decided to become a season ticket holder next season. This is great for many reasons; One it means that I will actually have company on the road. Two and most importantly I will have someone to share my witty repertoire with rather than just in my head. I dunno if you quite know what you are in for mother.

It was absolutely sweltering out so my parents went to find the only pieces of shelter there is at Rush Green. I, the numpty, decided to stay outside with my West Ham family in the crazy heat. As we were so early they hadn’t even announced the squad list. Still hoping Birmingham’s number nine was going to get a look in. Though I had no idea if she was even here. Furiously checking twitter to see if anything had been released, not looking where I was going I bumped into a very tall man.
’Sorry mate’ 
’it’s alright’
Not a very interesting exchange I hear you cry. Well when I finally looked up from my phone I recognised the man I had walked into was Ellen White’s husband. Good sign that she’s here then.
At this thrilling interlude, it is a good time as any to you the story of how Ellen White once got me in trouble.

Back when I was following Man City as I am doing with the Hammers I followed them home and away. One fairly easy away day is Birmingham City. A team that season Man City played twice in a very short period. Having beat them in the FA Cup match fairly comfortably surely City could do the same in the league game.

Two important things happened at this game;

One: it’s the game that I have been mistaken for the youngest I have been mistake which was 11.  Upside to that I got in for free on their sister club program, the downside I was 26 at the time.
Two: Man City did not win thanks to two beauties scored by the aforementioned number 9. Both absolute screamers from outside the box which floated over Ellie Robuck’s head. I couldn’t help myself, after all Ellen is my favourite. I cheered for both goals which were against the team I was actually supporting. To say the atmosphere on the journey home was frosty was an understatement.  What can I say they were good goals!
SIDE NOTE: I told this story to Gilly once who told me in no uncertain I was definitely not to do it as this game. Wouldn’t dream of it Gill, my love of West Ham our strips my love of Ellen. Just 😏.

We now go back to our scheduled programming of the game in hand. Everyone looks like they are suffering from heat exhaustion already but kick off is ago. ( this match report will be interrupted by guest appearances as I ended up talking to interesting people during the game.)

FIRST HALF

I don’t know if it was the heat was getting to West Ham but they were acting very cagey towards the Birmingham forwards. Within the first ten minutes, they had a shot from outside the area which thankfully Gilly, captain fantastic herself, managed to turn out of play. The resulting corner wasn’t dealt with fantastically with Moorhouse out of position, the ball fell to Claire Rafferty to punt it up field off the line.

That seemed to wake us up and for the next fifteen minutes it was an even match of end to end football, neither side making use of their chances.

INTERLUDE ONE

We interrupt this fascinating report of the game to bring you this special bulletin. Well we don’t but it was at the point I spoke to my first special guest. We could see someone in a Birmingham City tracksuit walking around the pitch.

I turn to Mark who was standing beside me.

’ is that Rach Williams coming around.’
We both try and do the I am not staring but I totally am.

’ yup definitely Rach’  

Rachel Williams is a former England and current Birmingham City legend, with brief spells at Chelsea and the now defunct Nott’s County. Probably best known for her friendship with Laura Bassett and for being a fearsome forward.  However her season this year was cut short in a pre-season friendly when she tore her ACL. Having gone for a loose ball she overstretched, when she went to stand up she twisted her knee and something pinged. The something turned out to be the ACL.

She came over and chatted with us about her frustration at not being able to play and slow pace her recovery was taking. We briefly chatted about previous Birmingham manager Marc Skinner and his transfer to the United states as the new Orlando Pride coach. Marc it seems was well loved among the Birmingham girls and they were sad to see him go. Not the longest chat but I can confirm Rachel is super lovely.

FIRST HALF CONTINUED…

Our breakthrough came around 25 minutes into the first half. Kate Longhurst who was celebrating 100 appearances in the WSL pinged the ball across from the left flank, dipping perfectly for an aerial overhead kick by West Ham’s Canadian superstar Adriana Leon left of centre past Hannah Hampton’s outstretched hand.  One of the best goals all season and we were on the up.

1-0 to the Hammers.

Our luck seemed to be on the up,  we had more possession, more shots which we couldn’t quite put in the back of the net. A lovely run by our Number 8 Leanne slipped the ball past the Birmingham defence to Brianna our number 15, but she couldn’t quite pull the shot off.  We were however snuffing any potential danger out quickly and even Ellen White’s energy seemed to be nullified.

Somehow we a had however angered the footballing gods and just before half time they began their retribution. A split second of madness changed the entire course of the game.
After a fleeting pause to deal with an injury to the Birmingham goalkeeper, they surged forward.. Moorhouse charged forward to stop the shot and caught the ball. Outside the area! By the look on her face Anna knew she had messed up.

RED CARD

We were down to ten and we had to regroup and bring on Becky Spencer, off came Brianna and on came our number one. The entire of ground seemed to be in shock.  We couldn’t quite believe what had happened to get a Red Card in the Women’s game is rare.  I mean Drew Spence has broken a few limbs and has only ever received a yellow as the highest punishment this season.  As a fans it was like we had one collective thought what does this mean for FA Cup final? Becky is a cracking goalkeeper but Anna had pulled off some insane saves and had played every round so far.

The resulting free kick for Birmingham was at close range on the right hand side. Hayley Ladd stepped up and a simple swooping strike eluded Becky and we were back on level pegging.

1-1

HALF TIME

There was only one topic of conversation with my West Ham crew, what does this mean for our final? All of us were furiously googling for previous incidents to give us an idea of punishment.  Nothing was conclusive at all varying opinions and stories and rulings just added more to the confused soup of our conversations, my parents came and joined us in the heat to add to our discussion. I know its only football but it felt very life or death. Just before the teams came back out, the officials came out to do a last minute warm up. The referee in question came over to stretch and Geoff took it upon himself to be our spokesman.

‘ Here mate, you know…‘

The Ref looked up with a weary look on his face.

‘Are you asking me about the length of her ban, I have no idea what it’s going to be’

My mother was fuming at that response.

‘How can he be so irresponsible and dish out a card and not know the consequences’. We had no response for her. What it boiled down to was the reason the referee put down for the card. If he said it was a professional foul then it was one game which be Bristol the following week. However if it was the deliberate act of stopping a goal scoring opportunity then that was a three game ban and Anna’s season would come to a premature end. We were once again at the mercy of the man in black. ( No not Johnny Cash )

SECOND HALF

Our team dynamic was completely thrown off, we didn’t seem to know how to adapt our formation at first and it took a lot of quick thinking from Gilly, Brooke our number four and Raff to keep the game on an even keel. For the first 10 mins Birmingham had the lion shares of possession and it was a case of putting out fires rather than starting any sparks of our own. Hayley Ladd, Chloe Arthur and of course Ellen White were looking to punish us and capture on the golden opportunity they had been gifted.

INTERLUDE NUMBER TWO

This is now a good moment folks to talk about the other special guest that we spoke to on the terraces. A rather friendly man came over to talk to Mark, who has followed the national team for years and seems to know EVERYBODY. They chatted for  a while before he introduced us to Jon who seemed to know a lot about the England set up and some of the Lionesses. Jon was excited to go to France even though it’s not guaranteed.

‘ Though based on her current performance, we should be well on the way’. He then shook our hands and went on his merry way. I look at Mark confused -my face saying the who the hell was that? Mark laughed.

‘That’s Jon White, Ellen’s dad’. Well there you go folks. You meet all sorts watching the women’s game.

SECOND HALF CONTINUED…

We seemed to get it together for the majority of the second half, frustrating the Birmingham forwards. In Ellen’s case quite audibly when she got flagged for handling the ball. She uttered a very loud COME ON !!! Which echoed around Rush Green which made us laugh from our end.  We held on until the 75 minute when Chloe Arthur capitalised on an error by Becky Spencer and smashed home a shot at close range into the top right hand corner.

1-2 to the Blues.

Despite our best efforts that is how the game ended. Anna’s sending off through us out of shape and we never quite recovered. The other significant event was Kate Longhurst picked up another yellow card  which meant she was suspended for the Bristol Game.  Which is better than the final and it meant she go watch her sister run the London Marathon so a win win I suppose.

After the game I made a beeline for the players tunnel, this time not to talk to our girls. I had been saying all game that I wanted a picture with Ellen whilst I was in a West Ham shirt.  While I was waiting I ended up speaking to more West Ham fans and managed to bargain the use of my Sharpie if they took my photo for me, after a while of waiting in trooped Ellen looking slightly weary.

‘Hey Ellen, Do you mind a quick photo even though I am oppo’

She laughed ‘ Yeah, your West Ham you’re alright’ We had a brief chat how I planned on getting her name on the back of my England shirt and we took quite a nice picture.

Once this was done I went and found my parents who were panicking we would not make out coach, I was quietly confident that we will be fine. As we have learnt dear readers I am not good at my directions and I was very wrong. So we had a backup plan of going through Marylebone to Birmingham and then back to Manchester that way. At an eye watering £44.00 each! So that Ellen White selfie cost us £132  as a family, I am sorry that happened however Mum and Dad I would do it all again and regret nothing 😉.

Next time it’s up at the crack of dawn to Bristol, where I watch the match on running track, I get to actually explore the city I am visiting  and find out important things about our Captain fantastic.

#COYI