I couldn't go to Oxford's home defeat to Wycombe yesterday because of my Saturday job, but in the words of my Dad it was "atrocious". So I felt the need to watch some live football this weekend. For my fourth Premier League match I got the Tube down to Loftus Road on Sunday to see Wigan take on relegation rivals QPR.
After attempting a couple of hours of history revision before I left, which was quite frankly a waste of time, I cycled down to Gloucester Green where I met Sam.
The day got off to a good start as the conductor for the Oxford Tube let us on at child price, despite us crumbling when it came to telling him we were younger than sixteen.
When we arrived in Shepherd's Bush, London, we knew we weren't far from the ground so stopped into a couple of newsagents to ask for directions. Londis didn't know where the ground was, and 'Mandeep News' kicked us out as we flicked through a map of the area whilst shouting "this is not a library!". It wasn't a good start to our time in London. We ended up going into the Hilton, and the pleasant concierge gave us a map and directions.
Whilst there I'd seen on the telly that Southend were losing 2-0 to Crewe in the JPT final. Good. They beat us (Oxford) every year. And I travelled all the way to their little town to see them snatch a win this February.
Anyway, en route to Loftus Road we began to move out of the posh old Kensington area, and make our way through an area dominated by fast food chicken joints.
After picking up our tickets from a grotty little man in a grotty little hut, we made our way into the ground, through electronic turnstiles! Jackpot!
As we moved through to take our seats, amongst the QPR fans, I realised just how tiny this box of a stadium is. The attendance for the match was a championship-standard 16,000.
As the match got underway I was forced into chanting with the home fans around me, to cover up my Wigan identity. However, fear not trusty blog viewer, Wigan is my second team!
My seat was next to some Brazilian tourists, they had assigned me with helping them understand what each chant meant. And I was subject to many questions regarding who my favourite QPR player is, who QPR's best player is, how long I'd been supporting QPR. I thought I'd handled it rather well until two minutes later I applauded a Wigan pass and my Brazilian friend said "You're a Wigan fan aren't you."
I told him I'd be sat with the Wigan fans if I was, but he didn't look too impressed.
Unlike my trip to Reading, this time I was definitely going to be on Match of the Day, right behind the goal I was.
Bobby Zamora was sent off only twenty minutes into the game for a kick Jackie Chan would've been proud of, on the plank that is Jordi Gomez's chest.
Wigan created a couple of chances to take the lead after that but couldn't force the issue.
At half time I was craving a chicken burger after going through Chicken Town in London. So headed down to get one. The soggy bread was the only respite from the stale chicken they'd put in the bun. £3.50 I'd paid for that. Nothing on Reading's quality catering.
Back on the pitch it was getting tense, by the second half I had given up with chanting with the home fans, helping my Brazilian tourist. I just wanted Wigan to score.
A flurry of chances was all that Wigan could manage. And on a counter attack, QPR grabbed the first goal of the game five minutes from the end, Loic Remy side footing in a sublime shot from the corner of the box. I jumped up in frustration, swearing, but no one could here me of course; everyone thought I was celebrating.
But then, Wigan got a freekick on the edge of the area. The third one in five minutes. I whisper to Sam "Third time lucky". Shaun Maloney steps up. He'd only scored four times this season. The pressure was too much. The Wigan bench were up, watching, all eyes on this. And he smashed it past Julio Cesar! Sam was up, arms in the air, and I followed, jumping up! But continuing to swear to show the home fans just how "furious" I was!
What a moment! It could be the goal that sends QPR down. I look over to the Wigan fans, their euphoric, running down the aisles, all 300 of them!
Before the match we'd discussed how we'd react if Wigan scored. Neither of us were calm and subtle like we had planned.
Fortunately that free-kick was practically the last kick of the game so we escaped without the suspicion from the fans around us for the remainder of the match.
As we left the ground I was full of adrenaline, surely all the energy I couldn't let out when Wigan scored. That's how much it meant, and that's how crazy fans go when their team scores; it's like nothing else.
And as we waited at our bus stop back in Shepherd's Bush, opposite 'Mandeep News', not knowing whether or not we'd missed the last bus home, we had experienced a remarkable game of football with huge consequences for both teams.
And what a day it had been, watching Premier League football, it doesn't get much better than that. I recommend it to anyone at a loose end come the weekend.
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