Portsmouth v SAFC (through the eyes of Jimmy Gilligan)

Set off for the long journey at 6.00am and hopefully the last time visiting such a shit ground where the fans are not of the friendly type.

Having travelled without a stop as usual I needed a pee so I gave my bladder a sign to empty on the High Street just next to the traffic lights and out of the door from my taxi taking me to the ground. Not a good pub in sight so I had a few Strongbow cans while sitting on a wall looking absolutely knackered. The locals took pity on me while a sat bewildered on the wall as they kept throwing the odd tanner or two into StephW cap that I had took down for the day just in case the weather turned bad. I thought that if I collected enough perhaps I would have enough money to buy Uncle Bob out and insert Ronnie Peachey as manager just like when the two of us ran the Kella Greyhound and won everything in sight.

Into the ground and the 1,400 odd of us sang our hearts out. If it rained I had SteveW’s cap but everyone could have used the big medals we were all wearing that were the size of bin lids – awarded to all the loyal away fans for putting up with all the shite we have seen both on and off the field this season.

The game started and it was like watching two teams from a Sunday league playing okay we had chances but again no quality up front. We all looked for help from the bench. Then a one two and Miller put us 1 up with a simple tap in. Pompey equalized straight away so back down to playing kick and run again – like sheep following the shepherd our players followed the ball but didn’t have a clue what to do with the damn ball when they got it. Game is getting boring and the 10 cans of Strongbow are starting to take hold and I start to doze off ……..

I open my eyes to see some movement on the bench; Reid is changing things round - on comes Quinn and Philips to give us some bite up front. Moments later a little through ball from Arca and Philips puts the ball casually through to Quinn who knocks the ball over the keepers head and its 2:1 to the Lads. We start singing 2:1 we always win 2:1 just like we were on bank holiday Monday when we beat the Mags and Shergar knacked his medial ligament and had to be put down.

Whistle blows and its 2:1 we are now 6th in the league with only 3 games left to play and all eyes are looking at a UEFA place. What a result after such a long journey, now perhaps we will spend the £10 million Uncle Bob has always had to strengthen the squad! Over to you Uncle Bob and Pete.

I get the 6.00pm train home and again fall asleep until I get into Coxa club at 8.30pm must have been a quick train that – one of the Intercity expresses without any problems from any supporters as they all seemed strangely subdued after such an explosive game.

Walked in the Club with Mrs Gilligan and saw our Chairman Mr W smirking so I give him a quick sign like “get in you bastards and where were the bar codes now as we head for Europe".

I sat down in the usual place and picked up the Sports Echo as I always do on a Saturday night the headlines stated “LADS CAN’T STOP FRATT PARTY” bloody hell we got beat 2:1 must stop drinking so many Strongbows as it makes you dream too much – then again if it gave me a lift perhaps I should have been drinking Strongbow all season but there again StephW would only have complained as it would have been more expensive round and he would have had to dig deeper into the floorboards for some more of his redundancy stash.

So there we have it my fellow Bloggers, Huyton asked for a made up report so I gave you one here’s to more Strongbow and dreams next season but without Uncle Bob and his merry men at the helm.

£10 million - we only had £10 million - we never had £10 million - it was just a lie wasn't it -Uncle Bob?

Jim Gilling