GROUNDHOPPING

Clive Hayward

@Byehorse

Clive discusses his trip to Hemel

HEMEL (A)

Saturday was very much a classic of the genre. A less than seamless, but cheery and well-lubricated trip to the South East and back for an afternoon of sub-optimal football. It was almost certainly also the closest we’re going to get to Wembley this season, because the interminable trek through MetroLand saw us pass through Wembley Central twice. On the outward journey it was part of the growing realisation that Hemel is a bloody long way out of town and on our return it was beyond parody to be standing on a platform so close to the national stadium with our tails between our legs, having been reminded of the massive gulf between successful football clubs and Torquay United.

It had all started very well. A comfy Great Western train direct from Torre to Paddington and a very proficient effort from Andy & I on the Guardian quiz. If you haven’t tried it, please do. You’ll almost certainly realise you know more trivia than you thought, and you will definitely learn something. The first half is a straight General Knowledge quiz. An example question was: “What is the only US state without bald eagles or coyotes?” The second bit is fun. It is a series of “what links?” questions.E.g: “What links: Because the Night; Blinded by the Light; Fire; Pink Cadillac?”

I lost count of the times we got on and off Bakerloo and overground trains. Green Park, Harrow, Wealdstone and Watford came and went in a blur of vanilla suburbs. Finally, an hour later than we had hoped, we pulled into Hemel Hempstead, serenaded by Crazy Frog’s “Axel F”, the 2005 banger played for us by a socially challenged middle-aged gentleman who was enjoying a Saturday afternoon out and about with his smart speaker.

We were, of course, still nowhere near where we needed to be, but we piled into a taxi and completed the last couple of miles of the journey out to the ground. Along with all the usual suspects we found our way to the Crabtree, a decent eaterie pub with a nice grassy beer garden. Onion rings, Guinness and gravy are, it turns out, a match made in heaven and soon it was time to wander around to the match.

There was more Guinness available inside, and it certainly made the next 98 minutes more bearable! Matty and I decided on a division of labour whereby he queued to get served and I watched the first 20 minutes, reporting back occasionally. He may disagree, but he definitely got the better end of the deal. Torquay missed an early half chance but wobbled at the back and conceded a sloppy opener after failing to clear a corner.

The second half saw some improvement and by hook or by crook we found ourselves 2-1 up, both goals going in in front of a buoyant away end. Happy days. We were going to “win ugly” again. Not a bit of it. A Dorking-like collapse exposed the fragility in this team that recent results had masked, and we left the ground with the taunts of Hemel’s tiny Youth Squad ringing in our ears.

Talking of ringing, the next task was to get some transport back to the station, and Matty played a blinder in that respect. His taxi-whispering skills were well to the fore, and another £14 went into Hertfordshire’s grey economy.

The trains back to central London were mercifully more coherent than on the outward trip. Matty apparently survived some verbal jousting on his own odyssey to Milton Keynes, and we arrived at Paddington in eager anticipation of catching the 7 o’clock train home. This was a pipe dream. One man’s cancelled service is another man’s bonus two pints though, and we guzzled them with relish, dodging tourists and Hooray Henrys as we went.

The remainder of the evening featured Chicken and Rosemary Pringles, a trio of Stella Artois and a £2 Stagecoach to Castle Circus.
My next memory is waking up on the sofa at 3.15am, microwaving my supper and half-watching a One Day International between England and Ireland.

It’s the stuff that dreams are made of!

Up The Gulls.

PS – The quiz answers, by the way, are: “Hawaii”, and “All songs written by Bruce Springsteen.”