West Ham in the FA Cup. You know the drill.
In the classic Ripping Yarns episode Michael Palin came home from watching Barnstoneworth getting battered again, shouting “Eight One – Eight bloody One! – And even that were an own goal!” before smashing up the furniture. A Villa supporter in the FA Cup would know how he feels. Sixty-eight years. Sixty-eight bloody years.
It’s become a tradition that in early January, sometime between taking the decorations down and the bin collection getting back to normal, the Villa manager, whoever it might be, holds a pre-match press conference where he says our cup record is shite (paraphrased) and this year’s going to be different. Then two days later we lose. Welcome to our very own annual triumph of hope over experience, round three of the Football Association Challenge Cup. We should know better by now.
This year’s going to be a bit different. For a start we’re playing on Friday night, because TV – and that’s not even the first night there’s cup ties being played. And of course it’s our 150th anniversary game. Cheap food and drink, souvenir programmes, a special heritage kit. It’s all happening, and it’s got nothing to do with Chris Heck trying to knock out extra tickets, oh no. Then again, we’re looking at a more or less capacity crowd for a match that would normally have got about thirty thousand, so at least it’s an earner.
Unfortunately it’s against West Ham, which means that some of the most disreputable characters in football will be skulking into the directors’ box, and one of them will be bringing his own booster seat. They’ve got a new manager and they’ve got Danny Ings, who they gave us real money for. They also won the World Cup, defeated the Luftwaffe and only ever hurt their own. It was safe to walk the streets back then.
We’ll put out a team, probably. How strong it is we won’t know until an hour and a bit before kick-off but it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s our year for the FA Cup.
