First Game

Everyone remembers their first game. It'?s one of those discussions that crops up reasonably regularly in pubs, on internet message boards or wherever anyone discusses football, Except me. For the life of me I cannot remember the first time I saw City play. I have an early memory of seeing City play away at Charlton Athletic, and I have a strong memory of being impressed with Barry Jones, because my dad had told me that he was Cardiff'?s '?danger man'?. I was disappointed, however, that he looked nothing like the REAL Dangerman I used to see on the TV, Patrick MacGoohan. But anyway, I digress. I remember my son's first City game very well: at Ninian Park on a freezing Boxing Day against Chester City. It was a terrible game which we drew 0-0. Carl Dale hit the bar. Apart from that the game was memorable because of the fact that everyone was clapping their hands and stamping their feet all through the game: to keep themselves warm. My son never recovered from this, and (now 17) takes little or no interest in football, although, if asked "Who do you support?" he will without hesitation say Cardiff City. I think this has some cachet in his London school. I similarly remember my wife's first game: by contrast a New Year's 6-1 thrashing of Exeter City. We even scored Exeter's goal (Andy Jordan, of course). This had the opposite effect. My wife was hooked and we got married.

So Sunday 24th September was an auspicious day for my nine year old step-daughter: her first City game. With Cardiff top of the league and live on Sky, plus a Sunday lunchtime kick off, this seemed like a good day to initiate her into the world of Cardiff City. Even though she supports Arsenal. However, having been taught the Andy Legg Legg Legg song at age three, she happily joined us in her Andy Legg no 3 Modplan shirt. Just in case she got bored she brought her Tamagochi. And her Barbie blackberry (I kid you not) and her camera. And a Polly Pocket. And some Scoobies. (You probably have to be a parent to know what I'm talking about here.)

Off we set in the morning to Liverpool Street Station to meet up with the 1927 Club for our day out at the sea side (I won't say that again: we didn't go near the sea.) Despite the day starting with rain pouring down, by the time we set off the weather had cleared and the sun shone down on us all. At the station ten 1927 club stalwarts met up with cups of coffee and newspapers ready for the journey. Others came down by car, and some came on a later train, but many obviously preferred to watch at home or in the pub, this being a rare televised game.

The train journey through Essex is flat and dull. Essex towns have got some great names: Harold Wood, Billericay, Gidea Park - but mostly they all look as dull as the less excitingly named Romford: famous only for its brewery and Steve 'interesting' Davies. The journey was pleasant enough though, and we soon arrived at Southend Victoria station. The walk from the station at Southend is surprisingly ok. You walk past a park and the local Town Hall. At the Town hall today the Rotary club seemed to be holding some sort of charity event. A crowd of people were in the square looking upwards at the adjacent tall municipal building, waiting for someone to abseil down the building. "Jump!" I shouted. But they ignored me. We turned into the pub for an early lunch and a couple of local kids in Southend shirts said "Good luck. Enjoy the game." This was clearly their number one top boys.

As well as being good at supporting City, the 1927 club are known for being quite good at drinking, too. However, they are a nice bunch to take your kids with: many of them have kids themselves. So my step daughter got to chat to many City fans with pints in their hands as part of the whole Bluebirds experience, discussing the finer points of Dave Jones' tactics.

After lunch we walked to the ground. The crowd outside the Town Hall was still waiting for someone to jump off the building to no avail. It was a nice sunny day and staring pointlessly at a tall building (even for charity) was clearly no way to waste your day. So it was off to Roots Hall to watch the Bluebirds take on the Blues. Which is kind of ironic really as Southend's blue kit is so dark it's almost black, and City were playing in their red away kit. (Which I have to admit I prefer to the blue one this season). Arriving at the ground we could here the chants "We are top of the league, say we are top of the league". Miraculously, unless we lost 5-0 we'd still be top of the league at the end of the game. (I didn't point that out to anyone - it would have been tempting fate). So soon after we arrived the game kicked off. "Bloooooooooooooobirds!" roared the City fans. Despite it being on TV, and a journey of over 200 miles from Cardiff (Coaches leaving at 6am on a Sunday) there seemed to be a pretty decent turn out. City fans were certainly in good voice, and enjoyed winding up the various well known TV presenters and punters who were clearly visible to us on a stanchion to our left. We were behind the goal, with Southend attacking towards us. And in the first few minutes, that's pretty much what they did, coming close once with a header that touched the top of the bar. But after 11 minutes it was City who were ahead. A free kick was awarded on the left hand side, and Purse got between Southend's defenders to bundle the ball home from McPhail's cross.

"That's why we're top of the league" sang the Bluebirds fans behind the goal. With City dominating, lots of new (to me, anyway) songs were being tried out by the Bluebirds fans: "He's big, he's Dutch, we like him very much, Glenn Loovens" "What's that coming over the hill. It's Michael Chopra" standing out.

City came close again as the Southend keeper saved from Chopra, and other chances went close, from Scimeca, Parry and Chopra again. At the other end Southend got a corner. Unsurprisingly, a lot of City fans asked the Southend left back Hammill (not having a good day) who was taking the corner, if his sexual preference was receiving in a rear position (if you know what I mean). More surprisingly the linesman amused everyone by asking him "Well, do you?".

On another a rare break into the Bluebirds half Southend got the ball into Alexander's net, but long after our favourite linesman raised his yellow flag.

Just before half time City got a corner. Parry crossed the ball in, Southend failed to clear, and with a lovely back heal Chopra set up Scimeca who shot low through a group of players into the back of the net for our second goal. "We are top of the league, say we are top of the league" sang the crowd. My step daughter was loving it, joining in with all the joyful singing.

Half time, 2-0 up. One of the nice things about Southend's ground is the fact that their catering is well organised. it is perfectly feasible to go to the toilets and get a cup of tea during half time with time to spare. This isn't because they serve tea in the toilets (although there's an idea) but because they employ loads of people behind the counter of their canteen. So back in the stands behind the goal, we drank our tea while my step daughter drank her fanta. Unfortunately, while getting the teas, however, I seemed to have missed the Southend version of the Hammerettes. Class.

The football restarted, with Southend clearly a bit more motivated to have a go at Cardiff. But also clearly, not very effectively. Going forward they were often offside, and Eastwood, their highly rated centre forward was kept under wraps by Purse and Loovens. It never really felt like City were going to repeat their Plymouth collapse, and City went close again with shots from Scimeca over the bar, and from Gilbert after a great run down the right and interchange with Chopra. Thompson and Chopra were clearly causing Southend's defence problems, and generally Cardiff looked well in control. Behind the goal, City fans were relaxed enough to start having interchanges with players warming up on the touchline. "Willo, Willo, Willo, Willo, Willo Flood Flood Flood" sang the City faithful. My step daughter joined in that one, as she knew the tune from the Andy Legg song. Michael Ricketts moved to Southend this summer, but injury had prevented him appearing before this game, where he started on the bench. "Ricketts for England" chanted the Bluebirds fans, after Ricketts had obliged them by doing the ayatollah wghile warming up on the touchline. Mind you they also sang "You're worse than Spencer Prior", and a couple of other things which was perhaps a little less kind. Prior, now a Southend player, had reported in injured for this game, after having slagged Cardiff fans off publicly in the press, a few days before the game. "It's because I'm not Welsh" he whined. No Prior. It was because you were useless, earning over £5,000 a week, and kept falling over.

With City in charge, the third goal was no surprise. Ledley nearly scored after great interplay with Chopra, but eventually a long ball from left to right found Chopra, who broke forward, crossing the ball into Joe Ledley's path. The ball shot into the back of the net - albeit an own goal from Southend's Simon Francis, as we later found out. Parry was replaced by Kamara and his speed on the right caused the Southend left back more problems (like he needed them).

It could have been more. Southend's keeper saved from Ledley again, and from Thompson. Flood, who had come on for Ledley with a couple of minutes to go narrowly put the ball wide.

With four minutes of added time, Cardiff fans carried on singing right to the end, waving goodbye to the increasing number of Southend supporters who had left, having seen enough.

The final whistle blew, everyone rejoiced. As usual the player came up to the City end to clap - Kerrea Gilbert going right into the crowd, presumably to say hello to friends. "We are top of the league" sang the City. And we are: three points clear with a goal difference of +10. How on earth did that happen?

We left the ground and began the walk back to the station. Almost unbelievably, the rotary club were still there at the town hall - but this time there actually WAS someone abseiling down the side of the building. What a way to spend an afternoon. I'd rather watch Cardiff play Chester on a freezing boxing day.


I asked my step daughter if she enjoyed herself. "When can we go again?" she replied. Great! Another person's life ruined.