Waiting
for Coxy
A futile trip to the Valley
A hectic afternoon at
work is punctuated by the buzzing of the phone. I pick it up. It's Cozzo.
'Firmo, did you know Ian Cox is playing at the Valley
tonight?'
I confess my first thought was, bollocks, we've sold
him. I founder, but Cozzo is quick to explain.
Turns out that, for reasons still unclear, Charlton
Athletic Reserves are taking on a touring Trinidad and Tobago side. And, according to that
day's Lancashire Evening Telegraph:
"Coach Ian Porterfield has now
brought Cox back into the fold and he is set to play a part in the game against a Charlton
side at The Valley this evening."
Decision made. Well we had to, didn't
we? Those who know me will know it is one of my enduring obsessions to see a Burnley
international. Hamilton and Flynn's days of pomp were before my time. I recall once being
poised to sally forth to Cardiff if Kurt Nogan progressed from a stand by position just
outside the Welsh squad. I know that briefly, in Phil Gray, we had our serving
international, but he'd gone before I had the chance. I'm still not sure whether I'd have
got out to Belfast if I hadn’t already had something else on that weekend. Now here,
kind of, was an opportunity
So, meet in the Wheatsheaf, Southwark,
for a few typically excellent pints, then a train out into drab south east London to see
one of the night's odder fixtures. I don't like the Valley and it's impossible to get home
from, but it would be worth it, wouldn't it?
Play a part my arse. After paying the
eminently reasonable £3 entry fee and 50p for a teamsheet, it quickly became apparent
that Coxy wasn't in the squad. He wasn't on the bench, and if he was even in the stand we
didn't see him. We couldn't fool ourselves. Our mission had failed. This was a mild goose
chase. Moral of the story: don't trust the Lancashire Evening Telegraph, who of course
failed to remember their error the next day. Ah well, might as well watch the game anyway.
And it was a reasonable match, if
slow-paced. Trinidad and Tobago are quite a tidy outfit, fairly skilful, surprisingly not
averse to hard tackling and a bit lightweight up front. Charlton have a player called
Shittu, and their physio is our old sumo Andy Jones, who at one point pulled a pie out of
his bag and threw it up to a mate in one of the empty stands. Assume the bag contains no
medical supplies, just a selection of hot snacks. There was a decent crowd, and it was
unusual to see so many black faces in a football ground. There was obviously quite a lot
of interest in the game among the local black community, and we sat amidst a cluster of
'away' fans, trying to give Trinidad and Tobago our support. Although I flagged when Cozzo
told me they're also playing West Ham and Stevenage.
However, it wasn't to be and the game
finished 3-0 to Charlton Athletic Reserves. Applying the Three Goal Rule, we left before
the end. Not a great night, but at least I'd had some beer, a match, a pie and a programme
at the total cost of around a tenner. Why isn't football like that all that time?
One thing that seemed clear to us,
though, is that Trinidad and Tobago really could do with a commanding central presence at
the back. Hmm, anyone spring to mind?
Firmo
March 2001
