As last weekend
approached, my youngest son had already decided it was going to be “the best
weekend ever.” Not only was his best mate, who has been living in Australia for
the last four years, in town for a Saturday hang out and sleepover, he was also
going to see Aston Villa play Liverpool on Sunday, in the F.A Cup Semi Final.
These are defining moments in a young person’s life and if Christian Benteke,
Villa’s star man, had already stated the semi final was going to be the biggest
match of his career, you can only imagine where it registered on the scale for
my two boys. It was to be my third F.A Cup Semi Final and sixth time I had seen
Villa at Wembley and despite having had a very poor season, the recent change
in manager and complete turn around in philosophy and performance, meant that
the team and supporters travelled with a great sense of optimism and
confidence. The belief felt far higher than when we lost to Chelsea at the same
stage of the competition in 2010, at a time when we were actually doing quite
well.
My youngest son
had seen his best friend a couple of years ago, when his family was last in
London. They have one of those friendships where they just fall back into it,
as if they had seen each other yesterday. That is a special thing and not
something that I ever experienced as a kid – or an adult for that matter. To
have an almost telepathic understanding with someone is priceless.
On Saturday
morning it was training for the Under 10s football team that I manage and as
the three of us walked to the park I was poised to help the conversation on its
way, in case things were a bit awkward between the two lads, having only just
been reacquainted. As it happened, the chat flowed immediately, as they
discussed whether PS3 or Xbox was the best games console and from that point
there was no stopping them. I can picture them in another two years time deep
in conversation about whatever it is that is ruling their worlds at that
moment.
In the
afternoon some friends came over, including an Arsenal fan, with whom we
watched the Gunners beat Reading in extra time, to clinch a spot in the F.A Cup
Final. Over dinner and a few drinks, the possibility of going to the Green Man
Festival in Hay On Wye this August was discussed. I am listening to
Waxahatchee, who is playing at Green Man, as I write this. I have never been to
a festival before, never really fancying the lack of ablutions and the idea of
‘roughing it,’ so it is about time I did one, I guess. The line up looks good
and the vibe of the festival seems to be spot on. It is not a huge 200,000
people monster like Glastonbury. Green Man looks like it could be fun. Watch
this space.
Once sleepover
was finished and breakfast eaten, my two boys and myself were off to Wembley.
The excitement was immense and built up nicely on the journey from South East
to North West London, as the Wembley Arch eventually came into view. The
biggest game of their lives and what could be the only time that the three of
us ever see Villa play at Wembley together. Who knows? The walk up Wembley Way
was keenly photographed by my eldest son, to post later on Facebook, like a
photo journal of the day’s events. Respects were paid to the imposing statue of
England’s greatest player, Bobby Moore, before we entered the West Stand of
‘the home of football.’
We located our
seats, close to the front of the third tier, in the corner of the stadium, then
went back to the concourse to watch the Villa fans arrive, drink a pre match
pint – me, not the boys – buy a flag and take in highlights of Villa’s road to
Wembley on one of the screens, to put us in the mood.
When we took
our seats, the atmosphere was positive, confident and loud. To hear the Villa
fans in full voice is one of my favourite sounds in life. Thirty two thousand
tone-deaf, mostly Brummie individuals, singing in perfect harmony. Bliss.
“Yippee ay aye, Yippee ay ohhhh, Holte Enders in the sky,” went our take on the
Johnny Cash track Ghost Riders In The Sky – Villa’s long
time adopted anthem. You could feel the passion and the belief. There was not
the tiredness or sense of inferiority that had been present at the previous
Semi Final against Chelsea. Instead, after Liverpool scored first, the mood was
of buoyant defiance. Five minutes later Christian Benteke equalized and I found
myself standing on the row behind, kissing a bald man with a tattooed face on
top of his shiny dome, whilst my eldest son was raised sky high by another man
in the row behind. My youngest son meanwhile, tired from his sleepover, stood
there with bewildered amazement, celebrating with disbelief at seeing Villa
score at Wembley. The effect at scoring a goal, particularly in a game like
this, is to celebrate with total abandonment and disengagement from
self-control. In that moment, you completely lose yourself, unaware of what you
are doing.
We got to do it
all again early in the second half as Fabian Delph put Villa 2-1 in the lead –
thirty two thousand elated voices screaming in unison, together as one in that
instant. The full time whistle was a welcome cue for celebration. It had been a
fantastic team performance, with outstanding individual displays and incredibly
we were through to join Arsenal in the Cup Final on May 30th.
The walk back
down Wembley Way, shoulder to shoulder with disappointed Liverpool supporters
was restrained and respectful. Someone has to lose a semi-final and Liverpool
supporters were magnanimous in defeat and wise enough to know that on this
occasion Villa had been the better side. The mass of 32,000 Villans had
dissolved to become individuals, in their own little groups, thinking their own
personal thoughts, going their own separate ways.
It had been a
memorable two days and we had witnessed the biggest game of our collective
Aston Villa supporting lives, which can only be topped by getting tickets to
the Final. This will prove to be a tricky task and I’m not getting my hopes up
but you never know.
As I put my
youngest son to bed on Sunday evening, he looked up and said, “Dad, that really
was the best weekend ever...”
