Read all about our visit to Wycombe Wanderers, of the English fourth tier, for their fixture against Northampton Town at Adams Park, Wycombe.
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Where:
General Info:
Date of Visit: Saturday, 3.10.15, 15:00
Club Name: Wycombe Wanderers FC
Nickname: The Blues, The Quarters, The Chairboys
Founded: 1887
Stadium: Adams Park, High Wycombe, Capacity: 10,284
League and Rank: League Two (4th Tier) Rank: 1/24
Official Site | Wikipedia
The Visit
Right, first things first: it's not 'Wy-comb', it's 'Wick-um'. The 'b' is silent! And the club's greatest achievement is that people say its name without the 'b'. Only joking. It's that it's the only club to have won the 'Family Club' award at English football grounds five years running – which probably says it all. Its greatest sporting achievement is its two promotions to the third tier, two years apart, after more than 110 years of plodding around in the county leagues.
We arrived at the home ground of the temporary League Two leaders, Adams Park about two hours before kick-off. Ahead of us was matchday 11 of the league, in which the local Blues would try their luck againstNorthampton Town, who had escaped relegation on the final day last season.
The car park at Adams Park sits on a hill, from which you get a spectacular view of the stadium's blue and sky-blue roofs. The mild, bright and slightly cool weather revealed the whole green-drenched area rising around the stadium. It looked as if the blue stands had sprouted from among the thickets of bushes and trees (Shakespeare, eat your heart out!). From the car park we walked down the steps leading to the parking area near the entrance and the offices. The ones who greeted us were actually the visitors from Northampton , who at that moment were silently filing off, one by one, in burgundy tracksuits, from the luxury coach that had driven them some 3 hours. Wycombe's staff greeted the visitors with smiles and handshakes and escorted them to the away dressing room. One really dedicated fan (neutral, presumably) went from player to player asking each to sign a sort of hefty album.
If this hadn't been our fifth trip to England, and our 25th club on the island, we'd have lingered on the beauty and rarity of this moving gesture – free of swearing, free of abuse and needless hatred – but happily we've already got used to all this goodness…
We went through the doors of the Wanderers' impressive club offices. We were greeted by the faces of all the club's players and staff, hanging in framed photos on one of the walls. When we introduced ourselves as the Cinderellas from Israel, the secretaries, long past their golden years, replied in unison that they had just been talking about us and were most certainly expecting us. What an honour!
We waited for Matt Cecil, the club's marketing manager, whom we'd arranged to meet. The five of us waited on blue leather sofas in a lobby that could easily rival the lobbies of luxury hotels in Israel. On one wall stood the trophy cabinet, containing a few dodgy trophies in the style of 'seventh place in the chocolate-milk cup'.
After a few minutes he arrived. Matt is a tall, formal chap. A good Englishman is an Englishman named Matt. Only joking. We introduced ourselves, and immediately, without unnecessary ceremony, followed him through the club's corridors. When we stopped by a blue door with the words Home players dressing roomwritten on it, he stopped and asked if we'd like to go in and meet the players. After swallowing a litre of saliva from excitement, the door opened and we walked in after him:
After that, any word we add would be superfluous. "I hope my gravestone says: Visited the dressing room of Wycombe Wanderers, of the English fourth tier, an hour before a match!" one of us called out into the room. Indeed.
After the unforgettable experience in the dressing room, we went out onto the pitch through a small gym. We presented Matt with the traditional plaque, and he was very happy to hear this crazy idea for the first and last time in his life. There were a few other people on the pitch at that moment who looked important because of their suits, but we wouldn't have been surprised if they were members of the Pitch Inspectors' Association come to check the state of the mud in the six-yard box that day. That could have happened too. What was lovely to see was that everyone stopped what they were doing to listen to our short speech, then carried on with their work. A great honour.
After the 'ceremony', Matt apologised that he couldn't give us complimentary tickets for the match, and so we found ourselves outside again, each parting with £22 (the most so far) at the ticket office, on our way to the lounge.
And oh, the lounge… Wycombe's lounge, it turns out, regularly hosts a mini beer festival of at least 20 different local beers. There were barrels upon barrels of beer, piles of food and lots of good cheer. At one point, a skinny lad made his way through the mountains of chips and people, handing out a sheet with the day's line-up to anyone who wanted one. And it looked as if people were ready to lay down their lives to get that sheet.
Half an hour to kick-off. We made our way into the main stand, along a route that circled the stadium. Crowds of people were already outside, the vast majority in Wycombe's characteristic quartered shirts, while the burger joint in the car park had been taken over by Northampton claret.
We sat down. Ordered coffee. Watched the big, colourful scoreboard (rather unusually good quality for the fourth tier, it must be said), and suddenly saw the wonderful gesture by the club, which had decided to give us a shout-out:
That's it. We'd done our bit. "I hope my gravestone says: Appeared on the scoreboard of Wycombe Wanderers, of the English fourth tier!" one of us called out into the stand. Indeed.
The match kicked off. The hosts took the lead very – or rather too – early, in the 2nd minute. The visitors, dressed in fuchsia pink (it must be said), equalised in the 35th minute with a perfect free kick (see the video gallery). In between, a negotiation developed between us and a group of local fans who couldn't work out the foreign language they were hearing in the stand. When we introduced ourselves as a bunch of bored blokes from Israel, our new friends lingered on the name of our very own Shalom Ginzburg, and demanded to know whether he was the former Israel national team goalkeeper…
We announced officially, without any shame or fear, that it was indeed him, and parted as mates. By the 47th minute it was 2-1 to Northampton, and 3-1 in the 51st – the minute in which Wycombe's romance with top spot effectively ended. The match finished 3-2 after the Blues pulled one back, making the defeat look minimal despite a rather limp performance. We wondered how such a team had arrived at this round as league leaders… Standing out for his weakness: Bean, Blue number 8, who apart from resembling Edgar Davids in hairstyle, looked like a caricature of a drab player in a Greek works league. (And as you know, there isn't much work in Greece.)
That's all. On to Charlton!
