Blackpool on Tuesday, in the aftermath of a spent hurricane. We dawdle, M1, M62, M61, M55, occasionally we reach the flashing speed sign of "40".
Blackpool - the car parking dilemma. Determined not to spend upwards of an hour trying to reach the bottom of the M55 after the game, the South Car Park offers much.
£7.50's worth of much. It's taking the "P", it's nearly a mile to the ground. Nearby the Premier Inn and Brewster's Fayre offer a three hour stay for £1 redeemable against food.
It was too good to be true. Parked then queued for a place at the bar. Ten minutes later the other two in front of me had been served. I enquired "45 minute delay on food", judging by the complaints of those trying to eat it seemed a most optimistic statement.
Starvingly I settle for a diet coke to claim back my quid - then begin the route march to Bloomfield Road.
The open plains of the South Car Park prove a struggle, even in hat gloves and scarf the wind bites through, you feel by lifting your arms plane like you'd be lifted away. Scary. Almost wish I'd not lost that three and a half stone last year.
Windswept we arrived, ticket inspection before the turnstiles, then programme, I struggle with gloves wallet and switching off the Google maps - which was having a joke anyway being at least 20metres continually wide of the mark.
The drugs dog wasn't interested in me so passing through the turnstile was easy, until I realised I'd lost a glove. Logic dictated it had to be outside between the barrier, the programme seller and the gate. Normally I'd just say sod it but not with this wind, it was worse than a mushy pea taster’s convention.
Convincing the orange jacketed steward - I exit the ground in search of my holy grail. Eventually I find it and by banging on the metal doors my task is completed.
Finding the holy grail was easier than finding hot food, I settle for a Lukewarm meat and tattie pie and another diet coke (special offer 2 for 1 - dated stock) after they agree to let me keep the tops.
Pie devoured, plushy padded seats found, photo of this years obstructing post taken and it's ready for the game.
Changes, out go Grant, Whitbread, Eustace, Bryson and Ward, in come Jack Butland, Ryan Shotton, Omar Mascarell, Jeff Hendrick and Johnny Russell. Game underway and within a minute the balls not pumped up enough for referee Kevin Wright. We change. In the stands we shiver, the winds blowing straight through us. On the pitch the gulf between the sides is immense. High energy, closing down, ten men behind the ball, three players to the man with the ball, there's twenty odd places in the table difference and it shows. You'd believe Blackpool were top and we were fighting for our lives.
The Seasiders totally dominate. Tangerines everywhere, they just can’t finish. We can't make space, we have no penetration, our waves break on the Seasider’s rocks. It's poor Derby. Looking into the stands orange empty seats abound, the lights illuminate those present in dark colours. For all the life of me it reminds me of a Terry's Chocolate Orange it's that bright or I'm that hungry. Cryus Christie gets caught out trying to shepherd the ball out for a goal kick, Butland pushes the ball out for a corner. Mascarell offers options but finds little movement to create chances and the ball is spread square too often. We survive till half time. Second half we up the pace yet still crash on the Seasider’s sea wall. Blackpool are playing for the draw. They have been from the off. With ten minutes left Russell runs the ball into the penalty area and takes advantage of an outstretched leg, he tumbles like a stunt man and the ref points to the spot. Chris Martin hits a blistering shot and we have the goal. Finally Blackpool shows an urgency. It's all too little, too late. A whistle ends the game, an ugly confrontation of players in front of our stand the aftermath of our victory. "We Are Top Of The League", we can play much better, gawd knows what will happen when we do. It's exciting and scary in a very good way. Come on you Rams!
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