I have an occasionally recurring dream where I find myself playing football for York City and scoring many, many goals for them. This is a slightly weird fantasy as although I support the club (usually from afar), I have no footballing ability and not that much interest in the game and you'd think if I was going to dream about being a footballer I would be playing for England or the World (versus Mars) or something a bit more glamorous than the team that currently rests at 97th in the football ladder.
But today it seemed my dream was coming true. I was at
Bootham Crescent, formerly KitKat Crescent, formerly Bootham Crescent, as a VIP guest and just before the game a man had run into our "executive" box (which was perfectly lovely, but unusually overlooked the car park rather than the football pitch) and told me that I was expected at the centre circle and had to get out there now. Was I getting the call up I had always dreamed about? Would I score the goal that ensured the Minstermen made it into the play-offs this season? Probably not, but anything is possible.
As it was I was heading out to get my photo taken with the captains of York and their opponents Altrincham and the match officials. But all the players were out there warming up on the field and it was weirdly reminiscent of my dreams, as well as being a bit of a mind fuck. How many fans get to walk out on to the pitch in front of thousands (there were 3005 in) of fans on their first visit to their home stadium?
I had been invited to be a VIP guest by the club as I am doing a benefit gig for their youth team next week (it was meant to be on Wednesday but I had to rearrange because of Have I Got News For You). I have supported the team since I was a teenager, but only seen them play once
when they lost the FA Trophy Final at Wembley last year.
It is amusing that that entry starts with the sentence, "If there is one place you are more likely to see a man with a Hitler moustache than in the audience of an Al Murray gig, it is amongst the crowd at a York City match. " because as I sat drinking a John Smiths bitter and eating a pork pie (all part of the VIP treatment) a man walked through to the next box from ours and I could have sworn he had a grey toothbrush tache. I thought I was hallucinating, but he came back through during the half-time break and this time I was certain. Unless he was a ghost that only I could see. But he was sitting in the row behind us and everyone else saw him later. What were the chances? That there was another man with a toothbrush moustache and that he was sitting within feet of me in a stadium with 3000 spectators. I didn't have the balls to go and talk to him and ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing, thus getting a little window perhaps into how people are feeling when they see me.
I had had to drive up from London, leaving at 8am to be sure of getting to the game in time. I was very excited, not least to see what the VIP treatment would be like at a lowly club like York. There was much speculation on Twitter at the paucity or crapness thereof, but actually it was rather good - aside from the fact that the box didn't face the playing surface (which some might see as an advantage - we did have seats too) we got
a spread of sandwiches and bhajis and pies , a fridge full of drinks and a visit from one of the players.
I hadn't been expecting to get invited on to the pitch, but in fact I went in twice. Once before the game (where I witnessed the idiotic gurning of our best striker Richard Brodie who might not be the sharpest tool in the box and who keeps getting booked, but who is good at scoring goals) and once at half time where I did the draw for the raffle and was presented with a York City shirt by the captain of the youth team.
No one seemed phased by my toothbrush moustache, but maybe that's because a good proportion of the crowd had one as well.
My friends and I were treated very well and allowed to film an extra for the next DVD and the game was fun to watch.
It looked like York were going to do their usual trick of giving us hope, only to have it dashed. After a balanced first half, Brodie seemed to have scored early in the second, but the effort was adjudged off side. A minute later Altrincham were at the other end and the player flukily or brilliantly chipped the keeper and we were one nil down. It looked as if I was to witness another defeat, but the boys fought back. There was an equaliser a few minutes later and I felt that we were going to push on and get another, which we did during injury time, when Brodie managed to get a penalty decision to go his way (he is a bit of a diver and had had a couple turned down already, one that was probably a genuine one) and he slotted the ball home from the spot. We had won and come very close to ensuring our play off place. I was only disappointed that I hadn't been called down to take the penalty - though with hindsight it's probably lucky that didn't happen.
What an awesome day though. My teenage decision to support the team closest to the place of my birth had paid off. If I had carried on supporting Leeds or shifted my allegiance to Man United or Chelsea I would never have got this treatment. I am probably the most famous York City supporter in the world. Which says as much about me as it does about them.
I felt pretty knackered and very hot during the second half of my gig tonight in Leeds. But I got through it. Illness is bound to overcome me now that the tour is all but over. Hopefully I will be fit for HIGNFY on Wednesday. I am getting a little nervous about that already.
