Disappointment

At 1.30pm all seemed hopeful as I marched along Psalter Lane in spring sunshine. At the roundabout, I turned down Sharrow Lane, then across busy London Road and on to Woodhead Road where my son Ian once owned a terraced house. Ahead of me, I could see my destination - Bramall Lane football stadium - the home of Sheffield United F.C.. This famous old ground loomed in red and white livery - the same colours as The Blades' team shirts.

Usually, when I go to see my beloved team - The Tigers of Hull City - I have to travel by car or train. It's sixty miles from Sheffield to Hull. However, yesterday I could walk to the game. Just 2.3 miles from our front door. A welcome change.

On the corner, a young woman was selling football programmes. I handed her a tenner and then the fiver in my change blew out of her hand and I had to chase it. We both laughed about that but perhaps it was an omen.

Outside turnstiles 16 to 23 there was a tedious security operation taking place - specially devised for visiting fans. The queue moved terribly slowly and some fans suffered the indignity of body searches. Fortunately, they did not pick on me. After all, 72 year old lifelong supporters rarely turn up for away matches with flares and house bricks. All of the security personnel were in bright yellow day-glow jackets and two of them had barking dogs on leashes. Another hound was a sniffer dog. He did not pick up any suspicious smells from me probably because I was wearing  Salle de Bain by "Old Man".

I scanned the barcode on my ticket and proceeded through the turnstile. Up two short staircases and I was in the cavernous Bramall Lane stand concourse, below the seating. It was packed with Hull City fans in black and amber - my tribe. A scrum of two hundred or so lairy youths were chanting in unison taking it in turns to crowd surf. It was quite hard to get through them.

Finally, I reached my assigned seat - at the far end of a row and partly for that reason I was very happy with it. Before kick off, I sat and read my programme and ate a satsuma.

For some unknown reason, visiting fans have developed the habit of standing up throughout the playing time and so it was yesterday. Quite irritating really when you would otherwise be sitting down on the seat you have paid for. I watched Oli McBurnie score Hull City's opening goal after four minutes - down at the other end of the pitch. It was a fast moving, flowing game with The Tigers clearly on top. 

In the second half we remained in the ascendency until our battling midfielder  - John Lundstram - received a second yellow card and was therefore sent off. That's when the game turned.

United won a dubious penalty and then with two minutes to go, they scored the winner.  City had spurned several good chances but it wasn't to be. Time ran out.

Ten minutes later, I stood at the bus stop at the bottom of  Ecclesall Road feeling blue and dejected as I waited for the 81 bus home. I admit that after all these years it is pretty insane that the result of a football match can affect my mood for the rest of the weekend. As they say - it's just a game but it never quite feels that way to me. Maybe I am in for more agony when I attend next week's home match against Birmingham City. In the meantime, all I can say is - Up The Tigers!