Enckelman’s Blues
‘SCORING a goal is, to borrow a phrase from Swiss Toni, like making love to a beautiful woman. Or so we are told, repeatedly, by professional footballers and full-time fans. ”Better than sex!” is the phrase that invariably springs to mind in those extra special moments.
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| ”I do not like orange. And I’m not to keen on Blue, at the minute” |
How then can one begin to describe the feelings of Birmingham fans after the first Second City derby since 1986? Imagine an impotent man kept in solitary confinement in a prison next to a very noisy brothel, then released after 16 years, given a handful of Viagra and invited next door for a party. Then times that by ten and double it. Then you’ll be about half-way there.
”Remember it’s a game of football,” wrote Steve Bruce before the game – a statement that sounded about as convincing as his recent declarations of loyalty to Crystal Palace.
”I haven’t slept properly since Friday, thinking about tonight,” wrote a Villa fan on the morning of the game. ”I can’t work today. I can’t believe the feelings of pure hatred towards the Blues are resurfacing. I just thank God I don’t live in Brum any more – I can’t imagine what’s happening up there today.”
To lose was unthinkable for either side. To lose 3-0, and concede one of the most farcical own-goals ever seen, is a nightmare come true. It could also be the straw that breaks Graham Taylor’s back.
During the game he could be seen reenacting his famous rant at the linesman, as first performed in Rotterdam back in ’93. Did he not like that. And did he not like Enckelman’s ankle-work, as the Finnish keeper flicked his foot ineffectually at the ball as it rolled towards the net.
”There’s only one Graham Taylor!” sang the blues fans happily. Afterwards he sounded like a broken man. ”I am incredulous,” he said slowly and quietly. ”It was so extraordinary I think it affected everybody, players and fans alike. Peter Enkelman is very, very low and he’s always going to be reminded of it in this city.”
The Blue Noses, by contrast, were as high as kites. The night was filled by the club’s traditional song, in which their rivals are cast in the role of involuntary receptacles for the content of Blues bowels.
It wasn’t pretty, but it was music to St Andrews ears.
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Posted: 18th, September 2002 | In: Back pages Comment | TrackBack | Permalink
