So next year then

4 11 2006
Porthmadog 2 Bangor City 0
Welsh Cup

You sometimes accquire a feeling of inevitability about these things. Such feelings came upon me as I was on the bus to Port. It shouldn’t have been like this, we’re on the road to the Welsh Cup Final again. The league is beyond us and we’re out of the League Cup so our last chance of silverware should have added a touch of nervous excitement to the occassion. Also one month ago we beat Porthamdog with a good performance and Porthmadog hadn’t beaten us in Welsh Cup history. Why did feelings of anti-climax nag at me then?

First of all the game was going to kick off at twelve and early kick offs are bad, apparently trouble might be afoot so less drinking will be mean less trouble according to Port. The apparently real reason offered is that XXX XXX XXXXXX are playing Pwllelli up the road and the police can’t manage two big games in one day. Anyone would think that Port were being petty to prevent people attending from Bangor but that’s just a conspiracy theory.

Secondly the bus to Port was half an hour late and this meant that I missed the first 20 minutes. When I realised that I was going to be late some of my enthusiasm drained – the start of the process.

When I got to Port it’s a long long walk to the ground. I couldn’t hear any cries from the area as I approached so it didn’t really have the feel of a Welsh Cup tie between two local rivals (more in their eyes than ours)which strengthed my lack of enthusiam. It was reinforced even further after I arrived to find Bangor’s ultras less numerous than I had expected, due to the early kick off time no doubt, and in a subdued mood. One assesment was “Crap match so far” and the verdict appeared to be correct as few chances were created. The score was 0-0 at half time.

After taking our places in the second half matters didn’t improve much. As Huw came over to see me about the small matter of next week’s programme Port scored. Bangor didn’t look like scoring after this and looked even less likely to score after Port scored again, it was a thoughly depressive day for Bangor. At least we can say that we were there to see Portmadog’s greatest day in football if their fans’ cheers are anything to go by that is.

After leaving the ground I took a tour of downtown Portmadog, fairly pleasant on this crisp sunny day. Just as I was taking in the vibes from to deal with the trauma of losing I was reminded just how insular people in the area can be. As I was perusing the contents of a sports shop I mentioned the score to the owner and the first thing she asked me about was whether there had been any trouble. I’d like to know how people gained the impression that there was going to be trouble.

I could just imagine the warnings in the local papers fuelled by gossip, would our children be safe from the Bangor hordes? Would our shop windows remain intact? Would gallons of blood be spilt in the streets? If such people had actually attended the game they would have seen a crowd that was little bigger than the League Cup game a month ago.

After this I saw Phil at the bus stop and we went for a drink whilst the bus was due to arrive. What a nice pub we chose, it was a local pub for local people you might say. A few “You don’t come from around here” looks came our way as well as a few anti-Bangor chants. Whilst we were in the pub Wales nearly drew level with Australia so we saw somwething good today as well. The bus back to Caernarfon emabarked on every detour possible, not an unpleasant experience in North Wales. I arrived home to find out that Clayton had resigned as manager and this bombshell rounded the day off perfectly.



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