I always think that you shouldn't tempt fate by changing your routines on match day especially when we are getting towards the serious end of the season, but that's exactly what we did and I feel I should apologise to the Wednesday community out there as we could be to blame for the quite frankly disastrous 3-1 home defeat on the day.
One of our favourite pre match stopping off points is the Hillsborough Hotel, and although we have eaten there before, our usual routine is a 'spoons breakfast a few beers in the Hillsborough Hotel and then a Berés pork sandwich (if you've never had one you've never lived). Anyway on a previous visit we had noticed the home made pies coming out of the kitchen, so after much pre trip deliberating we decided to skip the breakfast and head straight for lunch.
Meyt n tater pie to a Sheffielder is a bit like Pot-au-Feu to the French or Sauerkraut to a German, it's the quintessential dish, a delicacy that sums up Sheffield on a plate. But this wasn't just any meyt n tater pie this was homemade meyt n tater pie with a thick short crust pastry top, mushy peas chips and gravy topped off with lashings of 'endos (H)*. OMG it was delicious and to die for. To be honest if this was the reason for the gods being against us during the match, it was a fair bargain, and at £28 for four meals, it's enough to make a Yorkshire man smile from ear to ear. Oh and just to say a great selection of real ale as well, (life is good).
 |
| Hillsborough Hotel |
As the pub gradually emptied, my wife said do you think we should be going? The tram stop is only a sort walk from the pub, so I calculated that we had time for another pint of Moonshine, after all if we are a few minutes late nothing ever happens. Of course I hadn't factored in output time as well as input time and we missed our tram by about 30 seconds. We did make a half hearted effort to leg it but the pie was weighing us down, so we just had to wait it out for the next one.
For those that have never been to a football match, there is a moment just before a goal is scored, it's probably a second which feels like an eternity where there is an expectant silence, a stillness almost as though everyone has taken an input of breath which is followed by the biggest roar, and just as we got to the turnstiles, yep you guessed it, that's exactly what happened.
Six minutes, Wednesday never score after six minutes, they are usually just starting to run their Friday night hangover off, and pretty much that set the tone for the match. If I was a sports journalist for the part of the game that we saw my match report would be:
Wednesday - attack, attack, attack, miss a penalty, attack
Villa - attack score, attack score, attack score. I don't think there is much more to say about the game.
Wednesday's ability to turn possession in to goals continues to frustrate, although I have to say performances have been significantly better under Bruce. It's a shame Mr Chansiri didn't take the opportunity to get rid of Jos a couple of months earlier. It feels like we are going to miss out on the playoffs by a couple of victories.
Anyway our day ended in the New Barrack Tavern, followed by a dash back to the train station and home.
Next time maybe we cut our losses and just go for the pie ........ then again maybe not, it will be a 'spoons breakfast and a Berés sandwhich because then we might score a hatful!
^Footnote, the following Tuesday, Wednesday beat Forest 3-0, being a Tuesday night, we couldn't make the game. I'm expecting an email from Mr Bruce to ask us to keep away.
*Periodic Table of Sheffield Dialect, Pete McKee
No comments:
Post a Comment