We are chugging somewhere between Zagreb and Belgrade. We could be in Croatia, we could we be in Serbia. But we actually have no idea at all where we are. The single 5 watt bulb is too dim for me to read my latest inductee into my sportbook review section, an excellent book called Danger, Kids!
Quite how and why we ended up on a train that would have put a British Rail football special after West Ham, Millwall and Chelsea had traveled on it in the luxury category is still unclear. As usual I blame Danny Last. He saw a Youtube video, and that is always how these things start. It is the maddest local derby of all time.
We HAVE to be at this one next season. You name the place and it is more than likely that we have turned up there at some point. But this trip was different. Not one crazy derby but two. Two days. As if football ever really healed any rifts like this. Earlier in the season the seeds had been sown by Andy Hudson who had blagged his way into the Belgrade derby at the Red Star stadium. This man knows his football and after he said we HAD to be at the return game, we begrudgingly agreed.
Begrudging in Danny and my vocabulary actually means we ask our respective wives before we book any travel. She was a bit worried though. She too had seen Hostel and seen how easily led the three chaps were by scantily clad women. As a further safety measure we recruited a fourth pair of hands.
You have to do these trips in pairs you see. When you walk down the mean streets of Spakenburg you need the reassurance of a hand of a friend. So what if people think you are a couple. So along with Danny and Andy, Kenny Legg had completed our foursome. Kenny Legg. A man who literally carries the hopes of tinpot adventures in Non League on his shoulders. The plan for these trips always takes the same format. Just miles away the following day is game Z.
