Hull City’s performances, specifically defeats at the hands of high flyers Man City, Chelsea and Tottenham and the inability to score fifteen or so goals against Sunderland when they went down to nine men in our last home game against them and lack of goals generally is apparently cause amongst the nay sayers, black and amber blasphemers and general none believers and heretics, a sign from the footballing god that Hull City are on the verge of relegation quickly followed by banishment hence forth to the tortuous depths of none league football and probably beyond….Who knows, Sunday league even Subbuteo league?
On this occasion, I, the Rev Joe Public am going to appoint myself a Hull City prophet and deliverer of hope, belief, faith and enlightenment to any member of the KC Church that is at times questioning the very meaning of Premiership football and Hull City’s place within it by using an analogy of “Going on Holiday” which is something we all look forward to….Well I do anyway.
But before my sermon begins and just to get everyone who is cursing the fact that Hull City is not 18 points clear at top of the table with a goal tally of plus 93, in the mood, I have re written a song as a pre curser to my story of a journey yet to come…It’s to the tune of a classic song written by the right honourable and very goody two shoes Christian all round good egg....Sir Cliff Richard’s…Summer Holiday
Sing along…A one, and a two and a one two three….
We're all going on a Hull City holiday
On Match of the day every week or two.
Every week a big game on our Hull City holiday,
It’s premiership football for me and you,
Let’s follow Steve Bruce.
We're going to stadiums like Old Trafford
Playing games against the mighty blues.
We're mixing with the shakers and movers,
Win, draw or loose.
Everybody on a Hull City holiday
Watching games we always wanted to
So we're going to turn up every matchday,
So City can make our dreams come true
It’s the tigers for me and you.
Let’s follow Steve Bruce.
Enjoy that?...Cheered up a bit?...Good. Now, are the lost Tigers souls sitting comfortably?....Here goes the analogy…
As a kid (Supporter) you’re parents (Hull City) have taken you on holiday to Benidorm (Playing in the Championship) “This is great” you think. Toy Donkeys, Sombrero, Poster of a Bull Fighter with your name on it, Sangria flavoured ice cream, Swimming pool (City players.) You’re all happy with that, Benidorm is a common enough resort, a few undesirables, rough and ready lads on the lash, dodgy chav girls throwing up designer vomit chemically concocted in their lower intestines from the 8 for 1 methalated spirits all you can drink happy hour, £120 hooky designer clothes at the “Only worth a pound” souvenir shops (Championship teams) but you’re feeling ok, It’s all good. You’ve had some rainy days though, a few stray dogs used the pool as a toilet, Catalan Gypsies have made off with your beach towels while you queued for 800 peseta bottles of San Miguel at the poolside bar and a particular Paella gave you the runs and you have run out of diacalm (defeats) but by and large it’s a long way away from the days you spent at Bridlington eating cold fish in soggy batter and chips on a rainy seafront and remembering when you broke your tooth on a stick of “Tropical Fruit” flavour John Bull rock (old 3rd division) and even worse, that year you went to Hornsea on a flooded caravan site in February because it’s all your dad could afford (Old 4th Division).
Then towards the end of your Holiday in Benidorm your parents (Hull City) announce that your fairy godfather (Allam) has bought them a winning prize lottery ticket (push for promotion) and you all may be able to stay a bit longer in a better room that doesn’t overlook the garbage compactor, but they won’t know what they’ve won until they interpret the small print and collect the winnings. (Last game of the season in the Championship)…You can’t help the excitement of wondering if it’s a prize worth two pesetas or two million..You sit there with your fingers crossed and for a very very short time for some inexplicable reason become a Leeds Utd fan (that’s just a very very very short time mind!...And never to be repeated I hasten to add…Ever.)
“Bingo” Jackpot!...It’s a free holiday for all the family (supporters) and unexpectedly, you are having your vacation extended but not here in Benidorm…Oh no…You’ve hit the big time…You’re now off to the airport on a journey to a new and better holiday destination (Premiership.)
There’s a catch. Unless you get to the airport (Premiership Survival) on time you will lose everything. That walk along Brid’ Harbour seems once again, a real possibility. Your parents have spent most of their wealth in making sure you have enjoyed yourself in Benidorm so money is tight. They do however, have a free return ticket home and enough money for another year in Benidorm so you all sit down and discuss what you are going to do and work out a plan. Your fairy godfather (Allam) loans your parents a second hand car (Transfer budget) to get you there. Despite him buying the winning ticket which makes this journey possible and loaning you all a car, you can’t help that festering seething glumness and thinking “ What a tight Git my fairy godfather is…He could have got us a Limousine”
Everyone with me so far?...I shall continue…
…So this car (Hull City’s squad)…Not the best in the world, a bit unfashionable but a reliable plodder and all we have and will happily do a steady fifty. To give the driver (Steve Bruce) moral support on the long journey we agree to take on extra passengers (more supporters). We’ve now left the sand coloured half built hotels and makeshift pavements behind us and we are now chugging along a well maintained motorway (Premiership). The stone tracks and dusty trails leading to the beach of Benidorm have made way for manicured grass verges and landscaped central islands (premiership grounds) and make much better viewing. At each set of traffic lights along the way there is always another car revving the engine who wants to beat us off the line (Premiership opponents). Of course there have been a few Ferraris who were always going to blow us away and to be fair, our little car has matched them gear change for gear change up until our oil light came on or we choked a spark plug here and there but never the less, a valiant effort despite the odd cloud of black smoke bellowing from the exhaust.
There have been a few chancers that have cruised these roads for many a year (Seasoned mid table sides) who have been all furry dice and paint jobs while sat vrooming the engine waiting for the lights to change green and at the crucial point and due to rubbish driving and inept clutch control these “Big I ams” stalled embarrassingly while our driver (Steve Bruce) goes steadily through the driving manual technicalities…Both hands on the wheel, Dip clutch, engage first gear, biting point, release handbrake, down on gas, up with clutch and pull away…While the passengers (Supporters) in the back are giving the other troubled vehicle the finger through the rear window with shouts of “Who are yer.”
The one annoying thing about this road is that at every set of lights there are a few idiot traffic wardens (You know who they are) indiscriminately handing out spurious traffic violation tickets…The passengers of both vehicles scream “How can we be illegally parked…It’s a stop sign” and “It’s not even dark so why have we got a ticket for not having our lights on”…The joys of motoring but the same for all drivers and passengers alike…Frustrating but we’ll get over it.
Surprisingly we are making decent headway on the way to the airport, in fact we may have made better time than we all thought, bit of a back wind and going nicely. There are of course a few passengers (you know who you are) who are concerned if we are even going in the right direction as they “tut tut” at the unfolded map thinking we should have taken the last turning on the right and wondering why all the passengers in the other cars are sat in the back of Mercs, Aston Martins and Rollers going faster and cursing once again that we are doing 50 in an Austin Princess. Cries of “Are we there yet? Are we there yet?” mixed with “Stop the car I’m going to be sick” aren’t helping the driver who can only pat these poor souls on the head and say “We’ll pull over in a few miles” (January transfer window) and have a freshen up and get a breath of fresh air before we carry on again, don’t worry, we’ll get there.
Most other passengers of course have their heads stuck out of the window enjoying the view and the rush of a promising road ahead and the anticipation of the onward journey from the airport onto untold destinations. Seeing other once speeding cars in lay byes with their hoods up and the driver’s head stuck in the engine wondering where the head gasket has disappeared to as their fairy godfathers are wrestling the chopping block from the boot. Track rod ends scattered across the road from directionless vehicles but our little car plods on because the driver is focused on getting us to the airport, not necessarily first, but not last.
We passed a Rover 2000, a car similar to ours and got in front (Sunderland). As we did so, two tires blew out on the Rover and a few passengers in the back were shouting to the driver “Go on…Leave it for dead, ram it off the road, Oh this is rubbish, we’ve no power” but our little car with a leaking oil seal, defective windscreen wiper and heater set permanently on hot could just about manage to keep it’s bumper in front and at last managed to be first by the next set of lights leaving a smoking wreck behind thanks to careful handling of an overworked and straining engine. We did it, it wasn’t pretty listening to all the grinding gears and wafting burning engine oil smoke away but we did it.
Once we reach the service station (Transfer window) and give our little workhorse a quick service, oil change, a few new parts, sent the passengers to empty their bladders while others are calling for a taxi because they don’t like the ride they have, we’ll be off again for that last few miles.
When we get to the airport, and we will, our driver will thank the faithful car for carrying all of its passengers and will take a few essential parts like the window bobber (Huddlestone), Smelly felt spruce scented dangly thing (Davies) and a few other bits and pieces from the glove box and declare to all the passengers that our driver is now a pilot of a newly acquired aircraft (New and better squad) Thanks to your fairy godfather, this better vehicle will continue the journey (Next season in the Premiership) which has air conditioning, soft furnishings, Free toothbrush in one of those freshen up kits…Oh yes, headphones (New players) and will be a slicker and be a more comfortable experience.
Most of the passengers will remember the faithful and determined little car (Todays squad) and know that without it just carefully plodding on, the ongoing flight would have never been possible as we look through the window and see other jets of various luxury all taxiing to take off on the very same runway as us. Then there are still some of our passengers who are complaining that their seats are next to the toilets, They don’t like the colour of the comfort blanket, their complimentary peanuts have passed their use by date and the in flight magazine is creased.
If our new vehicle stays on the flight path and has the correct weight of fuel we will reach the next destination where our pilot will announce that the trip is not over and he is now captain of our next and even better vehicle (Season after squad). A cruise liner…How about that eh?...A cruise liner…Who says patience isn’t a virtue?
Our Cruise liner (AA TIGER we’ll call it) will be accepted into any berth of the world’s greatest ports as an equal to other super liners and be revered as one to join. Once again most of its passengers will be enjoying sipping pink gins, playing quoits and driving golf balls off the stern while a few will be sat in the life boats wearing 3 life vests each looking through a pair of binoculars hoping to spot an iceberg while discussing how the “Sinking” scene in the film Titanic wasn’t real enough and more people should have been seen drowning.
So as our liner, AA TIGER commanded by Captain Bruce steams off into the sunset, fireworks and party atmosphere peppering the star lit sky as it goes, navigating for south pacific atolls (Champions League?) and the ultimate dream, we have to just sit back, buckle up and enjoy the journey. At times it will be stormy, we will be knocked off course, hit a few white squalls but we can do no more than enjoy the experience and be thankful we are no longer all piled into the back seat of an Austin Princess let alone ordering Fish Chips and mushy peas not forgetting the scraps while putting up the hood of our rain macs on that long wet walk along the front of a raging brown north sea.
For those passengers who are asking “Are we there yet,” the only answer I can give you is “No…And for people who have negative views despite how far we’ve already come on our journey…You never will be.” In fact, If you hurry, I hear there are still a few pitches left at that caravan site in Hornsea but you will have to catch another bus to get you there. The Scunthorpe, Grimsby and Lincoln express spring to mind.
Here endeth the sermon. Wake me up when the bus is here to take us to play Halifax away because until then I’m still dreaming.
Right….Were where we?
Ah yes…We’re all going on a…..Etc, Etc…Thanks Cliff, without your song this article would have never been possible.
UTT