Before Bolton Fan and I forget completely, here is m'prototype article.........
Tales from Macron! as recounted by Ernst R.R. Heisenburg.
Macron? Itโs not very catchy is it? It sounds rather like a medieval Westeros outpost, or even a modern shopping centre. RIP dear Reebok, formally a favourite away ground, but they have persisted with those advertising boards, thus rendering the home end a land of mystery. Maybe their leader feels that an expensive electric board system advertising meat pies or bowls oโ brown puts them in the big League, whatever, the seven Gods are on our side, one could see them beginning to malfunction and one hopes that they will short and fizzle out by the time of our next meeting.
We so much enjoyed our Spring trip to Burnley that we decided to take the same scenic route over the tops. The yellow bikes, multi coloured shirts, and the name โPhilโ written on the road a thousand times, brought back happy memories of early July and our own chance to host the premier cycle competition. After a long and leisurely lunch in the hills above sunny Horwich we stocked up with alcoholic beverages and made our way back to the expensive Hotel which was charging Brighton prices for this football occasion. Whilst having us tea, I read that Dougie Freeman was promising โTrue Grit โฆ. not short on commitmentโฆ we are certainly going to have a team giving their all tonight!โ
Mrs Heisenburg asked me to hide her water bottle in my waterproof, it wouldnโt be the first time she had one confiscated, and worryingly as we approached the security barriers we could see that everyone was being searched and subsequently I was enthusiastically patted down by one of the security men. Maybe it was the scrunchyness of the container, maybe he wasnโt concentrating, but we were let through. I must fill it with Ouzo next time.
It being a night game and many leagues away from home, we were delighted by the turnout of friendly looking โBoro fans. Apparently at the Leeds game my chums didnโt know whom to be frightened of, the Leeds lot, or our own twirling and chemically stimulated bunch. Luckily that type only turn out in force for Leeds games nowadays.
To say that we bossed the first twenty minutes would be an understatement. Bolton didnโt get a look in. We passed and passed again, made attacks but didnโt score, or as the Bolton News put it, โFor long spells they [Bolton] dominated the game but were unable to convert their superiority into goals.โ Maybe someone had slipped milk of the poppy into the reporterโs tea. However, it looked ominous, another game, lots of pressure, and one worried that Bolton would score on the break. They always put us old folks out on the periphery of support and we were therefore in a perfect position to see Craig Davies run towards us and fall over for no apparent reason. Honestly! From our direction it looked like he dived. Cue lots of shouts of โCheat!โ from our area. There wasnโt a lot of protest on the pitch so maybe someone did clip him but I would love to see the footage from the camera situated above us.
Since most of the action was taking place at the secret end, it was difficult to see beyond our midfield players but at some point our very own wildling David Wheater handled the ball and we had a penalty awarded. We now know that one of our players chased after the referee brandishing an imaginary card. The shame of it! I donโt want to see our players behaving like that, nevertheless Grant smashed home the equaliser and at a stroke made the fifteen minute break easier to endure. As the temperatures dropped, a game of musical chairs ensued, and people regrouped with their friends, we felt a lot cosier.
More of the same in the second half, and although Bolton had a couple of near misses down amongst the light show end, we were definitely troubling their defence more regularly. Much as though the clever play between Tomlin, Adomah, and Kike was entertaining, I rather liked the shoot on sight attitude from Reach who hit a belter and was unlucky not to score. Sure enough though, a deft flick from our new goal machine Kike gave us what turned out to be a winner. We held out under immense pressure as Doogie threw on Beckford who had a goal disallowed.
So another entertaining away trip and a couple of wins under our belt, but as I type this we have suffered a couple of disasters, or Games of Groans, if you will. We have a saying in the North, โWinter is coming.โ And at the depressing Reading game final whistle one could almost hear the haunting strains of โRains of Castamere!โ