Season Diary 39

Entry #39: Wednesday 7th January 2009

I hate Wednesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays really. I like Mondays though. I am weird that way. The reason I don’t like Wednesdays (and Thursdays) is that it feels like the week is almost over and generally I haven’t done anything, another one wasted so to speak, Mondays seem fresh to me and it feels like anything is possible, this wee is different as the week cant pass quick enough, Wednesday is the turning point where we turn the corner and now were in the final straight headed for Saturday.

Right today I will look at my personal record at the fiery (but sludge filled) pit of hell that is Somerset. I have been there six times in all, my Dad never took us when we were playing in the same divisions during the 80s and early 90s, I always felt that this was because it would be dangerous for young kids as me and my brother were at the time, but it may have been so he could go and enjoy himself, I have never asked him for the actual reason but if what I think is close to being right I can see his point either way.

Anyway, all those wins that others saw and reminisce fondly about (Tommy Burns’ goal being a prime example) I never seen. My first Killie game down in South Ayrshire was the forth round of the Scottish Cup the season after we won the cup (a wee reminder of our glorious cup win of 97) and in the teeming rain we got beat. In fact it was the shitiest day I can remember and we were stuck in the open at the side of the ground you enter at, horrible day. Two nil we were beaten and our cup was surrendered in the worst of places. My programme was ruined that day as well.

Next was a season later and a round earlier, and Andy Walker broke my heart. Suppose the less said about it the better, except that it was teeming, AGAIN, and after Walker scored that f-ing chipped penalty I left. Now my Dad wasn’t too pleased that I was leaving saying I should wait till the end, but I left anyway. So me Charlie and David Hill left and started walking to our friends house in Alloway. This shouldn’t have been that difficult but along the way we got lost and really we weren’t sure where we were going, if the truth be told our way of getting there was probably flawed. All in all, another shit day.

Next up was another cup game but this one was the league cup in 2001, myself and friends Ozzie and Grant plus Grants dad went down, in our lunacy we tried to get in a few pubs down in the Newton on Ayr area, we were duly turned around and ended up in what was then called Dantes and had some prematch beers. Surely this would be the one, the one where I broke my hoodoo, alas no, nil nil meant penalties and we made a major arse of it, big Johnny Bravo otherwise known as Chris Innes humped it right over their home enclosure if memory serves, and I mean humped it. Three defeats on the bounce.

Then in 2004 we played the second of the newly created West Sound Trophy games which replaced (sort of but not actually) the Ayrshire Cup, the first was played the November before on the same day as a Scotland game, the playoff versus Holland actually when McFadden scored in a one nil win, I was at that rather than the inaugural West Sound game at Rugby Park, which we won incidentally. No this was the second and the venue was Somerset in a kind of year about type thing and it was held in preseason so it was a July visit and so the chances of pissing rain were pretty slim (the last game in the league cup I should maybe mention was in early October and as I recall it was a mild night) so we headed out minus our jackets on the general service bus to Ayr. Getting off at the station we went to a place called Drouthy Neebors which myself and my brother ahd been to a party at before and remembered was alright, sadly it had changed hands and was pretty upmarket in comparison. I think we had one pint and went round to Dantes again, more like it. The game was a two each draw and so I saw my first Killie goals on enemy soil! David Lilley scored it. In fact we were up two nil and crusing then they scored two in the last quarter of an hour and pulled level and beat us on pens (again)! There was some bother outside the ground afterwards, really the first time I have any real memories of anything like that happening, suppose it was probably because I actually knew some people who were involved, I wasn’t though (not my thing) and I headed back into town. Myself, Blackie and a few others who exactly I cant recall, headed back to Killie after a few pints in a taxi and pulled up at the Howard as the Killie team were leaving, they were there post game for some sort of player of the year presentation, and we made out we were less than pleased to see them, scowling and telling each other that we were glad they were away and they should fuck off and think about the mess they made that day but secretly wishing we had been back in time to see them. anyway, when we went in the pub all those who were involved ins scuffles of varying degrees were in and had spoken to some of the players, they had jumped on some supporters buses going home the jammy gits, Gary Locke was the one that sticks in my mind because I up to that point was the lone voice in my love of Lockey but after that a fair few of the boys came round to him and his no nonsense style, every cloud as they say.

I said I was there six times and I wasn’t lying, that’s the four times I went to see Killie but I also went to a Ayr Dundee Utd pre season game years and years ago, in the away end I must add and finally I went to a Ayrshire Amateur Cup final to see my mate Mushy turn out for his team Newmilns Vesuvius. This was my happiest time in Somerset and I will tell you why. Free programmes were given out as you went through the turnstyles with a lucky number printed on the front, the winning number was read out over the tannoy and low and behold my programme was the lucky one! I was led through the main stand (“somerset is falling down” isn’t just a clever song its right on the money) to an office and handed a fifty pound note as my prize! Result! I went spent it in Parkers Niteclub in Kilmarnock that night.