Wembley Way

Today was an exciting day, as I popped my England full international cherry, as we went to the "new" Wembley to watch their international friendly against World and European champions, Spain. How long can you get away with calling it "new" before it genuinely isnt? Or has that stage already passed and I'm late catching up?

The only matches in big stadia I had been to before all included long trips up north to my most visited city in England, Manchester, to watch The Red Devils. The buzz around matchdays, in and around the stadium, is a feeling you have to experience at some stage in your lifetime. The anticipation, the build-up, the excitement of a big matchday. The differences between it and simply sitting at home watching it on a cinema screen, are vast. At Old Trafford, there is a monotony of chippies, pubs and the like along Sir Matt Busby Way, which has become the walkway to the Theatre of Dreams. Today, we got out of the underground station, to be greeted by a huge arch in the distance and a long stretch of pathway. Wembley Way. All part of the experience, and walking up it sent a little tingle of presentiment down my spinal chord. Touts attempting to gain any "spare" tickets, food stands, with their inviting smells, to either side and merchandisers selling everything from scarves to hats to flags to poppies. Surrounded by proud Englishmen waving flags, and singing songs. It was only a friendly, but it was an occasion to savour none the less.

As we approached the stadium, finally, we found our entry point and went in. The temptation to buy a drink and something to eat was big, mainly because I had had very little lunch, but I had been warned about the prices. As I found out, when the man behind the counter had the cheek to charge Father Mitten £5 for a bottle of Carlsberg. My jaw nearly hit the ground. I didn't want to chuck my money away like that, so I went to the bookies and put a bet on. Oh ok, shut up! Looking at the odds, I went for a half-time score of 1-0 to England and a full-time score of 2-1 to Spain.. Ambitious? Yes. Were Spain going to kill us? Yes. Would we even score? I doubt it.

We made our way through to the main stadium, and was greeted with a sea of red seats and loud music. I was slightly underwhelmed if I'm honest with you. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it just looked like your average stadium, albeit it with 90,000 seats in. Still incredible, but lacking that punch that made it a fortress. A lot of waiting around then happened, before the best bit of the whole lot and the national anthems. The last time I had gone to an England match, (Under 21s), we had got there so late, that we missed the anthems. That was not going to happen again, and as we belted our way through a rendition of 'God Save The Queen', around 87,000 other Englishmen, I felt I had ticked one of life's boxes. It was highly eerie that we went straight from 87,000 singing voices to complete and utter silence however, as everyone graciously followed the minutes silence for our fallen heroes.

The game itself? As most of you will probably know, it wasn't a cracker. More like a game of 'Piggy in the Middle' starring Spain as the bullies and England as the boys chasing shadows. It would be interesting to see the stats actually, because I'm still not sure how we escaped with a 1-0 win. The goal itself wasn't incredible either, as I'm pretty sure my my dead goldfish of 10 years ago would of scored it. We were sat right behind that goal, about 5 rows back, so we were probably on TV! I'm used to it...

Still. A win's a win, even if it doesn't make us World Champions, and come the full time whistle, we filed out... Slowly... As we walked back down Wembley Way, with about 15,000 other football fans ahead of us, we thought it was going to be an incredible amount of time before we got home.. By this point, I could of literally eaten Red Rum, so I succumbed to the hideous prices and bought myself your average burger and chips plus a bottle of Ribena and a hot choc for Father Mitten, at the combined price of £12.90... These stands might aswell just take your wallet and physically empty it of all its contents. Then punch you in the face and call you a "muppet".

It didn't take as long as we thought it would. I hadn't even finished off my chips when I walked through the barrier in the underground station, and slowly but surely, we made our way home. It had been a good day, and despite the scandalous prices for food and drink, I'm glad I didn't spend TOO much money! And we had the Barmy Army behind us aswell!

Next week, I PLAN to begin preperation for my Met Day 1 Assessment Day, but whether it happens or not is a different story. Come Monday morning, I may actually feel like I'm employed. Tomorrow, I'm refereeing what I'm pretty sure will be an interesting match, before not doing a lot at all.

Cushty.