Finally York City as a proper fixture, not some meaningless kick around in July. And 1699 other Poolies felt the same as nearly two thousand Pools fans snapped up tickets for Yorks partisan away end.
There's 365 pubs in York, one for everyday of the year, but there's only one that matters to me and me pals. The Stone Roses bar. Blogged about it before, it's my personal favourite drinking hole by the Ouse. However it loses a certain charm on a matchday. Not from the boisterous drinked up Poolies, don't mind that. Been there, done that. No, but from the over zealous bar staff who called for quiet and turned anyone away they didn't like the look of. In that respect, we were lucky to get in. The polis were in and out like the place was Sun Hill, eyeing up anyone and everyone who wasnt wearing a STAFF tee, and removing anyone who dared to sneeze. Still a few pints supped and a few boss tunes listened to, nice to get my biannual fix of this boozer.
Too quick though it was time for the match. I was anticipating this game highly, it was like Christmas eve, and hadn't felt this excited for a Hartlepool match for a long time. Although I think more of it was to do with the large away following, not the promise of good free flowing football. And with the excitement of Christmas Eve...
Christmas Day turned out to be an utter let down as usual. The open terrace packed with bodies was a fine sight, but unfortunately the absence of a roof meant no reverberations of sound from the singers leading to a disappointing quiet bar a few hundred. I'd also put that down to the torrential rain and the fact we were watching Hartlepool United. No wonder we were subdued.
The game may as well have been the meaningless friendly (at least we'd have had the weather) as both sides were crap. Pools started with James Poole and Steve Howard up front, both with a measily handful of goals between them last season, and never looked like scoring. No shots on target. But then York didn't have any either. Two hopelessly toothless teams playing out a stalemate in England's basement division. £17 pounds sounds a lot when you put it like that.
The full time whistle eased the pain but not the rain. Nil nil. Time to check the other scores. A twenty pound free bet seven line accumulator failed to respond due to one result. Had Wycombe won £2.5k would have been in my pocket, but alas no. So had to scrape around in my pocket for enough change for more petrol in the tank, point the car north towards the north and the purple/black clouds gathering there...
Watching Hartlepool United away. Joyous.
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