October 19 2005

Crystal Palace

After more than 50 years as a football fan, Jamesey knows better than to expect success. But 0-1 at home to a struggling Brighton (Oct 18) was a shock to his system...

We all know that football, like all sport, is unpredictable.

If every match, race or whatever, were a foregone conclusion, there would be no point in watching the event.

However, any self-respecting bookmaker or actuary would have looked at the circumstances before the CPFC/Brighton game and opted for the overwhelming probability of a home victory.

Personally, I have never been able to get too worked up about our Brighton rivalry - Millwall are our real foe, local and in London, not miles away on the Sussex coast.

Nevertheless to lose at home to the Seagulls leaves a nasty taste in the mouth, especially as, in my view, we were outplayed and outclassed for most of the game.

I very nearly didn't bother going to our last Brighton home game three years ago (5-0, wasn't it?) because the omens for trouble and violence were so strong.

Well, on this occasion I got to the Selhurst Arms before 6pm for a couple of pre-match libations only to see a large body of police outside, the guvnor on his mobile and all sorts of toing and froing, so presumably there had been trouble despite the pub's Palace-only policy.

With a background of sirens wailing I walked to the ground accompanied by what seemed like the entire Metropolitan Police cavalry, clip-clopping along.

Many of my old doubts about the "beautiful" game came back to haunt me.

Isn't going to a match supposed to be fun? There's nothing like a bit of needle to spice up a game but does it have to be like the preliminaries for World War 3?

Anyhow come the final whistle, I made sure I was at Selhurst and on a Victoria-bound train well before any hostilities could commence at the station.

Listening to the news on the train home, I heard that one of my old heroes, Johnny Haynes, had died in a car crash at 71.

That brought back many memories of the maestro, hair slicked down, wearing the white shirt and black shorts of Fulham, controlling the midfield with guile and perfect touch.

And now he was gone...a sad end to a miserable evening.

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