Authored By Max
The final away game of a pretty mediocre season. Neither team with anything to play for. Not a new ground for most of us, a good 140 or so miles away..worth going? Well, if you do it in style, I guess. It was the day before one of the boys 23rd birthday. Hardly a big one, but a birthday's a birthday, so why not make a fuss out of it? However, I think this was quite a unique idea, given it was hardly the best of away games.
16 of us went from Barnet to Mansfield, in a limo. Yep.
It wasn't cheap, but one last big away day for 06/07. We met in Barnet about 9am, in the Hole In The Wall Cafe for a spot of breakfast. I remember nearly being late due to a large bit of my route to Barnet being closed that morning due to accident, so I owed a big thanks to my old man for getting out of bed early on a Saturday and giving me a much needed lift there.
After breakfast, we quickly walked round to my mates house whose birthday it was an picked up about 10 crates of cans for the journey. The limo was waiting for us outside Barnet Odeon. I'd been used to getting the Supporters Coach from there in the past, bit of a difference. I think we were off and on the road by about 10am. It wasn't too cramped, despite there being 16 of us in there, but it did certainly get messy pretty quickly. Someone had decided to make skittle vodka. Simple really, you put loads of skittles in a big bottle of vodka and then put it in the freezer for a week. It tasted like cough medicine and apart from managing one glass of it myself, my mate more or less did the rest of the bottle on his own. You can imagine what state he was in by the time we got to Nottinghamshire.
We had a pretty easy run up the M1 and got to Mansfield just before half past 12. We all had to dive out of the limo at some traffic lights and a good number of us make a dash for an alleyway to have a piss in, before heading for the town centre. Handily, I have a good friend from these parts whose a massive Mansfield fan, so I'd arranged to meet up with him. He took us all to a few pubs, before we split up a bit. Leaving just two of us from the limo, another mate of ours who'd travelled up seperately and my mate Mansfield friend. We took in a good three or four pubs, before stumbling towards Field Mill slightly late and getting in just after kick off.
I was battered. But then again, if you looked around the away end, it hardly looked like I was the only one. The limo had got very messy, but I suppose that was the whole point. We'd all had a bloody good day to this point, the game was meaningless anyway.
Often I can't write much about the game in these stories due to being intoxicated and not paying enough attention. However, this time I can't say, because I didn't really see it. We'd got into the ground at about 3:10 and by 3:25, I was outside. Yes, I was ejected, but it's not as bad as it could have been. My friend from Mansfield was in their big West Stand, to our left. Our stand and theirs was quite sparsely populated, so it wasn't hard to pick each other out. So, as you do with mates, we were having a bit of banter, due to distance largely being done with the 'v' sign or the wanker one. Anyway, I had a steward come up to me and tell me if I did it again, I'd be out. I did mention it was one of my friends and it was harmless fun, but anyway. To tell the truth, I'm not sure if I did do it again or not, but about a minute later I was called down the front by these two stewards and taken round the corner. They basically repeated what they'd said already and then the female one suddenly came out with 'and you're intoxicated, I can smell it on you.' My response probably didn't do me any favours, along the lines of go and see how many people in that stand are totally sober. Anyway, I was told I was being ejected. I didn't complain too much and even said 'alright then' but then they wouldn't let me out until I gave them some of my details. At first I refused this, but didn't fancy the police coming round and making any more of this really stupid incident. I even offered them to speak to my mate on the phone to prove I wasn't doing anything that wrong, but they weren't having it. Right pair of arseholes, to be blunt. The male one especially, big tattoo on his neck. Aren't you hard, mate.
Oh well, so after reluctantly giving my name and address I wandered around to behind the West Stand and had a little lie down on the grassy bank. It was a nice day, at least. I rang my Mansfield mate, seeing if he fancied departing too. A moment later the doors from that stand flew open and he came bowling out, with stewards either side of him shouting at him for details. Funny to watch. We just walked off, the stewards throwing out a few choice words as we went on our way, now just laughing at what a state this day had already become.
We made our way into the town centre and stood out the back of a pub called The Swan, with a huge beer garden, underneath an old viaduct. Picturesque. It wasn't that long before the other two lads who'd been with us pre-match left the game of their own accord and met up with us. We had a good few pints there, before heading back to the ground with a bit of time left. On the way strolling past an apparently rough pub. My Mansfield mate had warned us, but we didn't pay enough attention and walked past singing Barnet songs. Wasn't so cool when about ten meat heads came piling out the pub, not looking impressed. They laughed it off though when my mate just shouted "alright, alright, you win!" We all saw the funny side and were on our way.
We got back to Field Mill with about ten minutes left of the game. They'd opened the exit gates to the home end, so what did we do? In we strolled and plonked ourselves in the front row. It was while Mansfield were having all kinds of problems with their chairman Keith Haslam and I remember us all getting right involved in the 'HASLAM OUT' chants and what have you. The whistle went not long after and a 100 or so little chavs invaded the pitch, due to it being their last home game. The Bees players walked of past us, I got their attention and a few laughs by shouting I was a Barnet fan. As Nicky Bailey strolled past, he chucked me this cheap looking gold chain. I thought it was a present from him, but in fact, he'd found it on the floor. I found this out when some toothless local came up to me and started pushing me and muttering something about a chain. He soon stopped when he saw the size of some of my friends, but I gave it back to him anyway, because I'm a nice person.
The limo was waiting for us behind the away end, so we had to say bye to my Mansfield friend and get back in. Everyone was wrecked on the journey home. Lots of amusing pictures were taken and just general silly things went on. Via a couple of service station stops, we got back to Barnet about half 8. Some of the boys were on about Camden, but I'd already spent a fortune and definitely drunk enough. Instead I stayed in Barnet until about 12, so managed to drink a fair bit more, stupidly, then got the bus home. The wrong bus, might I add. I fell asleep on it a few times, then got off about 2 miles from home and somehow walked it from there, rolling in about half 1 and falling over on the stairs. A quality day and quite a fitting final away day to the season where my away days properly started to become such a mess. Brilliant.
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