My vague excuse was that I was going to support any 'Orns past or present on show. In reality though I'd have gone if there were no links to WD18 at all. As it was, I hoped to see John Joe O'Toole if he'd managed to break into the senior squad, and Dan Shittu. Of course, JJOT didn't make the squad and Shittu wasn't even on the bench. There was one old friend present however. The fourth official was Stuart Atwell. Alas, unlike Anthony Hopkins, I wasn't able to have him for dinner.
Craven Cottage was a new ground for me. I wasn't there to see the Championship winning game of 97/8 and luckily missed the 5-0 Boxing Day demolition in 2000/1. It instantly won a place in my best grounds list. It goes without saying that its an old fashioned 'proper' football ground but its also in a wonderful location. Obviously everyone knows its on the banks of the Thames but no-one seems to rave about the picturesque Bishops Park that you have to walk through to get to it from the tube.
The programme gave us a potted history of Fulham FC and the ground. It hailed Mohammed Al Fayed as the saviour of both. Apparently no club is more synonymous with its home ground than Fulham. I don't recall those sentiments from Fayed when he tried to move the club to Loftus Road for a few seasons or looked to ground share with Chelsea before their neighbours got mega-rich.
As expected both sets of fans were good natured and in good voice and, although its a cliche, there really was a carnival atmosphere. Not that I'd ever thought differently but it made me think how wonderful it would be to have the World Cup here. Exciting exotic teams playing in beautiful weather in front of happy fans. The chilled out mood of the fans was one of the most noticeable things. At no point did they chant things against each other but put all their energies into supporting their team and the only rivalry was who could be louder. The Irish probably won that battle, although the Nigerians did a decent version of John Lennon's "Give Us a Goal".
I'd forgotten the amount of faffing that goes on before an International and as well as the big fanfare for the teams coming out we also, of course, had the National Anthems. The cameraman literally filmed right in each players face, presumably to check that they were singing. It must have been very off putting even if you did know the words. I don't know if this is standard practise, but this personal space intrusion could explain why Gazza, during Italia'90, told the watching worldwide audience where to go before every match.
As always with friendlies the start was very slow and both teams seemed to spend the first ten minutes complaining that the various balls, in use thanks to the multi-ball system, were too soft. Far more entertaining were the Nigerian adverts that kept popping up on the screens round the pitch. In Nigeria a TomTom is apparently the official candy of the Super Eagles and not a Sat Nav. They are also very keen for you to wear a condom in Nigeria, especially a variety called Gold.
For a while the Nigerians looked like Brazil before the Irish started asserting their more physical presence on the game. This led to some fairly wild tackles going in from the Africans and the blissful mood in the stands wasn't mirrored on the pitch as several times the players squared up to each other.
Against the run of play Nigeria took the lead with a very simple cross and shot. It should have been better defended and left Given no chance.
At this point I will confess that I'd made a fairly bad error in that I'd only worn a T-shirt to the game. It was boiling when I left High Wycombe and I hadn't considered that by 8pm, next to the Thames in a stand sheltered from the sun, the breeze would be quite as chilly as it was. Usually, along with my rule about never going early, I never go to the loo during the action but the cold did me in and I had no choice. So, of course, I missed Ireland's equaliser. There is nothing worse than standing in the gents at a football match and trying to work out what is going on by the noise of the crowd. You hear the beginning of the roar and think 'is it an attack, have they won a corner', but your heart gradually sinks as the roar reaches its crescendo and you realise you've missed a goal. The man standing next to me who sounded just like Father Ted said "Oh f**k, I've missed it" and I knew how he felt.
At half time I tried to recover by going and standing in what remained of the sun but it was hopeless. I remembered that Bill Bryson had said in his book 'A Walk In the Woods' that people don't get hypothermia in extremely cold situations because no one is daft enough to venture out without adequate clothing. The times people get in trouble are on perfectly normal days when they haven't taken anything that anticipates a change in the temperature.
I shivered my way through the second half trying to remember what Bill said the signs of hypothermia were rather than paying great attention to the action. All I could tell you for sure was there were no more goals but Ireland went closer than Nigeria did. My resolve to see out the 90 was severely tested but some how I managed it.
For the first time in a long time I actually managed to force my body into a run on the way back to the station as I tried to get my circulation going again. I don't think I've ever been grateful before to see a packed tube train pulling into a station. The sweaty heat of humanity warmed me up nicely. By the time I'd had a cup of tea at Marylebone I was back to normal, reflecting on the daft things I do to get my football fix.
I doubt you'd imagine this was taken from inside a football stadium.
