A Trombonist visits Leeds

_{Having disregarded my 6am alarm in favour of my duvet, I struggled into the land of the living with the 6:30am and proceeded to shower and change, ready to head ‘up north’ for the second time in a week. As usual, I arrived for my train in plenty of time, so spent half an hour watching two rats fighting on the opposite platform. The train arrived on time and, having battled through Victoria Station and onto the bustling Victoria Line of the London Underground, I arrived at Kings Cross and was sat in the first-class lounge by 9:30. Here I sat and continued to read ‘Around the World in Eighty Days’ by Jules Verne before boarding my train to Leeds. Departing at 10:35, the train proceeded to stop at Grantham, Doncaster and Wakefield Westgate, arriving into Leeds at 12:48.}

 

_{As I made my way to Sovereign Street to catch the shuttle bus to Elland Road, the crowds were already gathering and the atmosphere building. Running earlier than advertised I was surprised to find buses already at the stand with the result that I was at the stadium in a little over 10 minutes. Whilst waiting by the Billy Bremner statue for my friends Marc and Dave I decided to call Steph to let her know I had arrived. Mid conversation however I was interrupted by my old friend from Wessex Band Summer School, James Butler. Our catch up was unfortunately brief though as he was meeting his dad and so I headed off to McDonald's where I now knew I was meeting the others.}

_{After battling through the hordes to order our lunch, we found a table outside where Dave and I discussed last week’s Super League Grand Final (I may find it in my heart to write about this in the future) with some Leeds Rhinos fans. After polishing off our lunch we made our way into the ground. Our seats were in the North East corner, right in line with the goal line. As we waited for kick off, we amused ourselves thinking up "chants that never made it" for past and present Leeds United players. It pains me to say this but I don’t think we’ll be releasing our CD any time soon.}

_{And so to the game itself. In all honesty, it seems a shame to waste my time and yours discussing this sporting spectacle. To be frank, I think I’ll struggle to find enough synonyms for ‘rubbish’. Leeds looked a shadow of the team they were earlier in the season, huffing and puffing against a Reading team who, having wasted time from their first throw a minute into the game, had clearly come to play for the draw.}

_{Continually passing back to the on-debut Andy Lonergan in the Leeds goal, it was hard to see how these eleven men in all white, and their much-vaunted attacking midfielders, had previously gone six games unbeaten and without conceding.}

_Dire.

_{Half time came, and just when we thought it couldn’t get worse, large doses of salt were ruthlessly rubbed into the wounds as the stadium announcer proudly welcomed the Leeds Rhinos onto the pitch to parade their trophy to the gathered masses. Unable to bring ourselves to look, Dave and I took advantage of the standing crowd and sat down so as not to bear witness to their moment of triumph.}

_{Surely things could only get better? Of course not.}

_{Minutes after I suggested to Marc and Dave that Thomas Christiansen should consider bringing Sako on for his ‘Forrest Gump act’, Hadi duly made his appearance followed shortly after by the huge, imposing and yet powderpuff Jay-Roy Grot. Leeds had continued to offer little in attack, and on the odd occasion when they did find themselves near the Reading goal, they played one pass too many and the move broke down. This Leeds squad look totally devoid of any confidence and it is hard to understand why. The best chance fell to Pontus Jansson who duly blazed over from five yards out and, once Reading had introduced former Leeds loanee Mo Barrow, the result was inevitable.}

_{Sure enough, Leeds only woke up after Barrow had made it 0-1, but by this time Reading, time wasting from kick off, had well and truly ‘parked the bus’. Yet somewhat miraculously, thanks to a partially open window, Leeds were handed a lifeline when Samu Saiz, waltzing past players for fun was felled in the area. If I was a believer in curses, I might perhaps be willing to take partial blame for what happened next. As Pablo Hernandez stepped up, I said to the others “He’s going to miss this”.}

_{The shuttle bus back was philosophical. As fans from as far afield as East Sussex, Preston, London and Northern Ireland analysed the day’s proceedings, the traffic into the city prolonged an experience most fans just wanted to forget. However, Leeds fans have been through too much to be down for too long, and by the time I was sat on the station concourse, the hundreds of fans still waiting for trains were singing, dancing and joking again.}

_{And so 18:45 came, and I was comfortably in my seat and ready to head back. As I sat there in my Leeds shirt and pulled my unread copy of the programme out of my bag, I became aware someone had sat down opposite me. Oh dear. He’s wearing a Reading shirt. Should I ignore him? Should I put my headphones in and go to sleep? No, I’ll speak to him. I’m glad I did. The journey of a little over two hours felt considerably shorter as Shaun (or Sean) and I spoke of shoes, ships, sealing wax and cabbages and kings (plus everything from football to Pokémon). As the train pulled into Kings Cross at 21:10 we went our separate ways, both feeling like we'd made a friend. Yet as I reflected later, the sad reality of life is, we will almost certainly never meet again.}

_{Ending the day as I began, with a tube ride to Victoria and then a South-Eastern train to West Malling, I collapsed into my seat thoroughly exhausted. The silent carriage reflected the sleepy atmosphere created by worn out passengers and the journey seemed to be taking an age. In an effort to make it feel quicker, and to stop myself from falling asleep, I started to read the ever brilliant ‘The Square Ball’. However, in my sleep deprived state I felt as though I was not giving it enough justice and decided to read it at a later date. Instead, I began to write this diary entry. My plan worked. Too well. Totally engrossed in what I was doing I realised at the last minute we were pulling into my station. As I hurriedly shoved my belongings into my bag and rushed through the open door, the cold Kent air and wall of fog was a refreshing surprise. Tired, weary and falling asleep on my feet I approached the solitary car in the vast expanse of tarmac and white lines, and headed for home.}

_{Sixteen hours after leaving my door, I was flat out on my bed and reflecting on my adventure.} 

_{Aside from the 90 minutes in the middle, it had been a good day.}