From Sofa to Seat 114 - The First Match
“Where you going dressed like that?” shouts our Health and Safety Officer. This is already beginning to get a bit boring. Ever since I shared the news of my new season ticket, the people at work haven’t let me hear the end of it. At best, there seems a general sense of confusion about why I want to go see Huddersfield Town play every week. At worst, it’s descended into downright derision of my ability to make sound life choices. Taking a deep breath, I turn and steal myself for more abuse. “You can’t go to the match without a shirt” she says. “I’ve got the centenary strip, the one with the laces at the front. It looks proper smart.” I breathe a sigh of relief. Turns out I’m not the only Terrier in Leeds.
With her words ringing in my ears, I make my way to the stadium. It would seem there are actually quite a few Town supporters in Leeds. I spy a few fans at the station and as my train pulls in I spot a few more dotted up and down the carriages. Arriving into Huddersfield, this smattering turns into a healthy smudge, supporters milling around the platform, train beers very much in hand. I can hear the noise building and, with a sense of anticipation, I follow the blue and white streak down the hill towards the John Smiths.
It’s not long until I feel the lack of a shirt to be a real issue. Everywhere I look, there’s blue and white stripes of various vintages. I recognise this season’s strip and have a hazy recollection of the colours worn during the Premiership days but I see everything from 1920s replicas to a very odd repeating triangular number that makes my eyes spin just thinking about it. I’m suddenly very aware of being the odd one out, fearful of being outed as an imposter or worse, mistaken for a Burnley fan.
As I take my seat, that nervousness begins to melt away. I’m sitting next to an old lady who, despite a few telling-offs for leaning too far forward, seems friendly. My only hope is that the DAB radio she is listening to throughout the match is loud enough to drown out my bad language. The bloke and his son in front of me share their thoughts about the lineup and I begin to feel like there might be a chance that, maybe, I might fit in after all.
To be honest, it wasn’t really the first game I wanted. Town was outclassed for long periods and were far too easy to get at first half. I didn’t really get a sense of who they were as a team, neither the controlling unit of last season’s Wembley run nor the more chaotic high pressers that Danny Schofield hopes to meld them into. On the other hand, it was clear to see Kompany’s early influence on Burnley. They already look to be playing like a pound shop Man City and come the end of the season, a 0-1 might not look like the worst of results.
On the way home, I drop into my local for a quick pint to take the edge off the result. I turn to the guy next to me, resplendent in this season’s away all black away shirt, and tell him about my first match. “You picked a bloody good one there mate,” he tells me. “If we don’t get a result against Birmingham I reckon we’re going down” he mumbles as he shuffles off back to his table. I’m not quite sure about that. Despite a less than promising start to my career as a match going fan and having nothing more than blind optimism to base it on, I’m confident we can make a top six finish. Let’s see how wrong I am in 23 games time.