These articles are published in the Slough Town FC programme. The Rebels play in the Southern Premier - just seven leagues below the Premier League. I’ve been supporting Slough since the beginning of time despite now living in Brighton. After nearly 14 nomadic years we finally have a brand spanking new home in Slough.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012


Printed in the Southern League Central Division match v Beaconsfield
SYCOB Monday 9th April 2012. We drew 1-1 in front of 349. My family
sponsored the game and various Carters were mascots but the game was
totally overshadowed by the terrible news that Chris Sliski ‘Mr.Slough
Town’ had died the night before.

It wasn’t my most successful of footballing expeditions. I’d decided
Friday that I just didn’t have the energy to go to see Slough play
Chalfont St.Peter. To say my job is seasonal is a bit like saying at
Christmas everyone’s favourite vegetable is sprouts, and what with the
Easter holidays approaching, work became a planting frenzy. Infact I
started to resemble Mr.Potato Head. Desiree, Mayan Twilight, Shetland
Black and Pink Fur Apple were some of the varieties planted. Oh and
Salad Blue, just cos I want to see kids faces when we make blue mash.
After all that potato excitement I decided I’d go watch Newhaven FC in
their bid to get promoted from Division 3 of the Sussex County League
(that’s 3 leagues below Slough and too low for entry to the FA Cup).
My Brighton mate insisted he try and get me an Albion ticket while I
pleaded that I would rather go to watch Newhaven. This comment would
come back to bite me on the bum.
Not wanting a ticket isn’t a slight on the Albion; it’s fantastic what
they’ve achieved and their community work is second to none, but I
like my non league and was in the mood for a pint watching the
Dockers. So what happens? Me and fellow non leaguer Glossop North End
Luke can’t get on the train to Newhaven as it’s rammed with bloody
Brighton fans. Now Brighton have just been praised for the fact that
68% of Albion fans travel to the game using sustainable transport.
Even our Green MP is impressed. Of course, this is helped by the fact
that there is nowhere to park at the ground, but they could definitely
do with more trains and buses. This transport policy also led to one
of the more bizarre letters I’ve seen in a local paper, with one man
giving up his Albion season ticket next season cos his ticket helps
subsidize peoples public transport tickets. Because he walks to the
ground why can’t everybody else! Er, because you live just 15 minutes
away from the ground you knucklehead and others live a lot further
After deciding that travelling India style on the roof wasn’t an
option we contorted ourselves onto the next train. But as arriving at
Newhaven at halt time wasn’t worth it, we headed to the Dripping Pan
to watch Lewes play Hendon.
While we chatted about the merits of the Albion, we laughed about
people who leave games earlier. You wouldn’t leave a film 5 minutes
before the end so why a football match? This comment would also come
to bite me on the bum. As I drunk my Thai spicy soup (only at Lewes!)
I started to feel worse and worse. I had to move from the four noisy
Hendon fans because they were getting on my nerves with all their
bloody singing. Usually I would have a chat about their encounters
with Slough and will they ever get their own ground again, but this
time all I could think of is that four people supporting Hendon is not
a ‘Green Army’ in anyone’s books. At half time I announced that I had
to go home before I collapsed. As I waited for the train there was a
loud cheer. Then another. Then another. Five minutes after half time
and Lewes had scored 3 goals.
Thinking I’d cheer myself up I logged onto twitter and, oh great
Slough were losing. In the end we draw but so did St.Neots, cementing
our second place when we could have got closer to them. Please, I
don’t think I can handle the horrors of the play offs again.
In the end Newhaven got a bore draw, Lewes won 3-2 and Brighton drew
I suppose the only upside of feeling ill and leaving early was that I
wasn’t crushed on the train on the way home. And if ever there was a
glass half full comment that was it.


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