And off to Luton we go.
And we’re off down the M1 to Plucky Little Luton and their tumbledown shack of a ground. Too far away to be a derby and too far from London to be interesting; you don’t live in Luton, you exist there. I don’t know if you’re aware of it but to get into the ground you have to go through the neighbouring houses. You’d be forgiven if you didn’t know that because it hasn’t been mentioned much since Plucky Little Luton got promoted.
Few clubs have ever had such an image makeover as Plucky Little Luton. They used to be roundly condemned for a plastic pitch, away fan ban, David Evans and being a crap town. Now they’re Plucky Little Luton, and that joke’s wearing a bit thin now.
Good luck if you’ve managed to get a ticket, although you might not feel like it when you get inside and see what makes up the away end at Luton. There’s a lot of Land That Time Forgot in Luton and the away end is still stuck in the eighties. It’s two fingers up to the Premier League that they got into it and I suppose you should have some grudging respect that they’re battling hard to stay. Their manager used to play for us so we can’t say much bad about him even if he will be the enemy come half past five. They’ve got Marvelous Nakamba injured and some promising midfielder named Ross Barkley doing so well that the big clubs are apparently sniffing round him. The world gets more insane by the day.
We’ve got a couple of our world-beaters on the way back, although whether they get risked ahead of our renewed upcoming European adventure isn’t known. Another three points is another three points closer to playing in Europe again. Ain’t no reason why we can’t get them.
