WHITBY TOWN 0 BARROW 2 FA Trophy First Round 11 January 1992 by Michael Gibson
Early one cold and damp January Saturday morning I was sitting on Cricklewood station freezing my rocks off waiting for the train to Mill Hill. A bit silly, you might think? No, not at all, for Mill Hill was the pick-up point for Barrow's National Supporters' Club's trip to Whitby. After an half-hour wait here our transport finally arrived. But then Jamie, the driver, had some bad news - sixteen people and a fifteen seat minibus. You don't need a degree in maths to work out that one of us was going to be without a seat. So who was it who was going to have to be tied to the roof? Yes, that's right - yours truly. But after a bit of farting about they made room inside and we were ready for the off. But we'd only been on the road for about five minutes when Dave Leitch noticed that the back doors I was leaning against weren't closed properly. I looked round and to my horror found that he was right. After some frantic shouting at Jamie we pulled up on the hard shoulder and sorted that out. Back on the road again and a few of us decided it was time to get the cans out, so just after ten o'clock we had to make another stop. But as none of us could find where the gents were, I'll leave the full horror of what happened at this particular stop to your imagination. Shortly after we zoomed past a coachload of Ipswich Town supporters. Where, apart from the APFSCIL darts league, had Barrow been in front of Ipswich, I wonder? By the time we got to Bridlington (I thought we'd dropped the swearing in Beans! after the first couple of issues? Ed.) my backside was beginning to get sore from sitting on the floor. Later on in Scarborough came the quote of the day from one of our gang who commented: "I bet this place is bleak in winter!" This, in the middle of January, you'll remember. The last few miles to Whitby were either uphill or downhill and Leitch seemed determined to add to my discomfort by his speculating how long it would be before I eventually slid out of the back doors! So nought out of ten for tact, Dave. We finally arrived in Whitby about 1.30. First stop was the Moby Dick for fish and chips and then we all made our way to the boozer down the road where Jamie sold the Sweep the Score tickets he'd made up. Mine read Whitby Town 0, Barrow 1. Fair enough, I thought. He had a few remaining, so half expecting a completely ridiculous score, I decided to buy another one. I was right - Whitby Town 2, Barrow 0. (You think that's bad. I got 4-4. Ed.) After this, a quick photo session before returning to the bus for the final leg of the journey to the ground. As the kick-off came round I was asking myself "Well, was it worth coming?" The answer to that one of course came 48 seconds later thanks to Terry McPhillips. Whitby goalkeeper Simon Bishop just couldn't believe it. Neither could some of the fans. The score stayed 1-0 to Barrow for most of the match and just as I thought I was on my way to winning our Sweep the Score, along came Billy Gilmour to make sure Barrow were through to the second round. Ah well, Maybe I can try my luck another time. No prizes for guessing where most of us went after the game. Yes, that's right Whitby's Social Club. And judging by the amount of people crammed inside it seemed like the entire populations of Whitby and Barrow were present. Though I was hoping to get the football results, I was out of luck - the television didn't work! After fifteen minutes of being pushed, jostled, squashed and trampled on I decided to return to the bus, where I made up my mind that whoever returned last was going to have to sit on the floor on the way back. At 5.30 everybody was back bar Leitch and Bob Steed. Five minutes later the stragglers turned up and Mr. Leitch reluctantly accepted that he'd have to sit on the floor all the way home. That's life, Dave! But about two hours later following a stop somewhere in Yorkshire, one of our number took pity on him by providing him with something a little more comfortable to sit on - a bucket! Our main stop on the way back was in Stamford for the benefit of the guzzlers (the other fifteen) who wanted to stuff themselves with yet more fish and chips. After the inevitable trip to the pub we were back on the road for the last time. Once we had set down most of this merry gang at Edgware tube station it was simply a question of dropping off those remaining at various points in North London. After being dropped off in Hendon, I had only a short bus journey home, thus concluding what had been a very successful and enjoyable day for all of us. I'd just like to end by thanking all who organised this great day, especially Jamie Hill for driving us all the way there and back. (No problem, he loves it. Ed.) Hopefully next season, I'll have another FA Trophy away trip to report. Let's hope again for one to a place that begins with a W and ends in a Y, but this time that's just up the road from my home in Kilburn. Issue 011 - April 1992