By Poolie Kev
August 31 2005

Despite working at the Leeds Festival, Poolie Kev still managed to get to Huddersfield last Saturday. At least there was plenty of Aftershock to drown sorrows in afterwards - and there was some model policing to celebrate too. Bit of a different one this seeing as I was working at Leeds Carling Weekend and had managed to negotiate Saturday largely off to fill my boots with Huddersfield Town v Pools and later the Killers followed by the Pixies. How about that for a Saturday?? In the words of a famed North Eastern sports correspondent, ‘Top Notch…’

So having made sure that the Aftershock Bar was stocked, staffed, managed and cashed up I shot back to the van, got reasonably clean in a bucket of water, donned the hallowed black shirt of honour and hit the A1 in a huge Renault Master van. It did seem very odd to be heading south to Huddersfield but after about half an hour it duly hove in sight.

Now the Galpharm Stadium, previously the MacAlpine always seemed a bit incongruous to me, perched as it is between the two up two downs of post war and the rolling hills so celebrated by Charles Hubert Hastings Parry and William Blake. However, as a stadium it is fantastic, the pitch immaculate, the natives seem friendly and the pies and beer flow well.

So having met up with a couple of Poolie chums in the Market Tavern and clocked a bit of the cricket we headed down the road to the away end. Now something happened in the Galpharm, which has never, in forty years of following Pools, happened to me before. There was a huge policeman, bristling with handcuffs, pepper spray, tasers, riot stick etc, standing on the step next to my seat at the rear of the stand. Leaning down to me, he said conversationally ‘ That number five of yours is a tasty looking lad, what’s his name then??’ As I drop jawedly (?) explained his name was Mickey Nelson, he added ‘How long as he played for you then?? Where did he come from??’ Why can’t they all be like that?? Remember Scunthorpe the day we got promoted?? Unbelievable….I salute you Constable Nice. You are a credit to your profession. Although you should have arrested that criminal referee.

So having dejectedly trudged my way back to the festival site, I was wandering down to the main stage to bask in a bit of Queens of the Stone Age and the venerable Josh Homme, remember kids, don’t take drugs, when a voice called out ‘We lost mate.’ Pausing for a chat, I found that there were three Poolies who had missed the game due to being paying customers of Messrs Carling for the weekend. Suffice to say; with having my own bar it would have been extremely rude not to facilitate a party in a corner of Yorkshire, which is now forever Poolie. I gather hangovers were the order of the day on Monday and I’m happy to have been of assistance.

The Scunthorpe game was a bridge too far after working fifteen hour shifts to keep the Aftershock flowing but I shall see you all for the novel noon kick off on Saturday versus Yeovil Town for the first time in our history I reckon.