Match.Com

For the first time in some considerable period I found myself actually moving along in the same direction as everyone else.

Read what you will into that statement but in the pursuit of everyday life I invariably find that I am moving very much against the tide of i) popular opinion ii) current thinking, iii) fashion iv) trends v) traffic vi) pedestrian flows vii) convention and viii) common sense.

In most of the eight cases above, I am not doing anything intentional or even by accident. Furthermore I am not trying to make a protest or statement or establish an image, persona or reputation.

It is just that it happens.

Granted, I may not be aware that I am swimming against the tide because I am generally a bit impressionable, gullible and that awful but apt pairing of words, docile and placid. I do not see these labels as necessarily an insult, in fact, in a world hurtling along at breakneck and impersonal speeds these qualities make me a bit of an oasis, a place of serenity and as I like to imagine, a small eddying pool in the white water of life.

Dream on you may say.

If you are not running with the bulls, jumping with the trout, perching with the birds on the power lines or following the sheep it appears that you are a freak, a person to be avoided and a nobody.

As so well put in the "Life of Brian", we are all individuals, together now, "Yes, we are all individuals" and yet we do our best to just merge with everyone else in an anonymous and faceless mass.

So, to return to finding myself in the same plane and tangent as the majority. I was on foot, merged with the human tide on the way to see my first Premier League game of this season of our home town team of Hull City.

Two remarkable things are combined in that previous sentence.

The first, I was walking to a match followed by the fact that I had a ticket.

A recent house move back to the City from the leafy suburbs has meant that I am but a fifteen minute or so medium to fast paced walk from the Stadium. The inaugral weekend in the house coincided with Hull City's first home game in the top flight following a fantastic season in the Championship and a runner up position with automatic promotion. I was a bit disappointed that the crowd noise did not carry as far as the new place but it could have simply been down to the wind being in the wrong direction.

Two passes had been kindly provided by a good friend and his family who were away on holiday and would otherwise miss the game against Sunderland.

Such is the dispersed nature of Premiership teams in the North East of England that a visit by Sunderland was as good as a local derby game.

Match Day had arrived and I felt at age 50, the same levels of excitement and anticipation as I had at the age of 12 when my Father had taken me to my first proper game at Scunthorpe United, then and indeed almost as always in the lower divisions, the old Fourth as it was.

I have always been football mad. At age 7, I avidly collected, and still have, the official 1970 World Cup album. The packets of cards were, I think a sixpence but in the run up to Decimalisation there was also the labelled dual price of two and a half new pence. In a large plastic storage box, still waiting to be lodged somewhere following the house move, there are further large albums for the English Football League covering 1971 to 1974 and a few hand made scrapbooks including the 1978 World Cup in which I painstakingly recorded every game, goal scorer, incident and conspiracy.

In 2002 my business was doing well and so four seats were purchased at the brand new KC Stadium. It was equally motivated to regularly see games as much as an endorsement for Hull City who were showing signs, for the first time in a decade, of stability, investment and some potential for acheivement.

The credit crisis in 2009 saw a heart wrenching but financially prudent decision to sell up the seats although I had participated fully in the glorious campaign which saw City, for the first time in the Premier League.

In the last 4 years I have been able to attend, perhaps, half a dozen games. Most of the tickets were won regularly in a prize draw run by through a Bank Cash Machine and the others when I was the guest of friends of friends or just taking up the offer of spares.

I was extremely grateful regardless of the circumstances of kind offers and donations.

I had missed the match day build after relinquishing the seats and tried my best to keep up with the live commentary and TV coverage of Hull City as well as catching the news and gossip from those who still went regularly.

It is quite amazing how much gardening, car washing and how many domestic chores can be completed from 2pm to 6pm on a saturday in the football season with just the radio for company. I just hope that this information does not fall into the hands of those soccer widows, left to mind the home and children on a matchday weekend.

The sheer novelty of being able to walk to the Stadium was therefore an absolute thrill for me. Left turn at my garden gate, out of the leafy grove, left again past the amber and black flashes of colour insidethe numerous pavement cafes, bistros and bars, right and left after about half a mile and then through the turnstiles.

There is something quite enthralling about emerging into the daylight from under the terraces on an early November afternoon and seeing the floodlights already streaming down onto a beautifully verdant pitch. There was some disorientation on my part on taking my donated seat as it was the first time, ever, that I had been in the East Stand. It is the best for atmosphere and passionate fans and a direct contrast to my former seats in the more sedate and reserved two tier West Stand.

The quality of play by Hull City was better than I had seen for some time. I did struggle to recognise any of the players in the new top flight squad although I am still of the opinion, perhaps once again contrary to general opinion that the Wembley play-off final victory in 2008 was the pinnacle of performance for one of the greatest under-acheiving football teams in existence. (at least so far.....)

As per usual, I then found myself struggling against the directional flow of the masses . I had stayed in my seat until well after the half time whistle had blown, just to absorb the sights and sounds of the Stadium. It was therefore my own fault in delaying that glorious dash up to the pie and pint kiosk until everyone else was making their own way back for the rest of the match.