Like others, I have very happy memories of that weekend. It felt that even though the odds were against us it would still be good to attend if it turned out to be our last football league game (look what has happened to Yeovil since).
The day picked up as we were queuing for tickets outside and one of the coaching staff came out and offered free tickets- I guess the players families hadn’t all come. Perhaps in hindsight I should make a donation to Torquay, but perhaps it was a good omen. I’d forgotten what a rollercoaster it was with Oxford leading then conceding and thinking Rovers would surely score. The experience once we were comfortably in the lead, and the match we were watching basically done, was not very enjoyable but the relief at the end is one of those feelings only football can provide.
To round off a great day we stayed in a pub on the edge of Dartmoor with some amazing Folk Music in the bar. What a memory!
We all know it was a case of mass hallucination, Jesus wasn't real. Only the belief he created on the terrace mattered, it's best he remain a mythical figure.
Like many others I travelled down with a sense of inevitable doom. I figured I saw the frost football league game at Carlisle, I should be there for the last one, possibly our last ever game.
I was quite taken aback by the positivity in the crowd before the match, but when Jesus manifested Himself at the front of the terrace I really started to think we could somehow still get out of the mire.
The match itself seemed to last an eternity, especially the second half.
The release on getting the final result in from the Horsepunchers was like nothing else I’ve experienced in football. Memories of Blooms skipping around whilst a match was going on around him, along with Gaz climbing the goalposts will live long in the memory.
I’m not a religious man by any stretch of the imagination but He clearly was a Chairboys fan that day!
My memory of that day is coloured by the fact that I was in considerable discomfort from a slipped disc, and indeed was finding it difficult to even walk, but there was no way we were going to miss this one! So into the car we piled and off we went.
I was resigned to the possibility of going down, the odds were too slim, but spurred on by the Believe sign paraded in front of the terrace, and the way the game was going, I began to feel a bit more optimistic.
Once the third goal had gone in, and Torquay had gone down to ten men, I felt a little bit more relaxed. At least it looked as if we'd done our bit, and would have no regrets on that score. As the game went on, I began to think that things might just turn out OK, as long as Rovers were behind. Can't pretend it was easy though. My abiding memory of the closing stages was @bluntphil walking up and down conveying the Rovers score, followed by the news of the final whistle from Bristol. We knew we were safe! The final few minutes of our game passed in a blur, then Gareth was in front of us swinging from the crossbar, and everyone was celebrating with pure relief!
When things had quietened down, and we were walking (hobbling in my case) back to the car, we were struck by the gracious Torquay supporters outside wishing us well.
Down to the seafront for an enjoyable pizza, and then we were homeward bound.
Couldn't really take in the fact that we'd survived, ten years later it still seems like the ultimate footballing miracle.
In these days of everyone having the latest scores at their finger tips, I seem to remember that day it was one bloke in the middle of the terrace that everyone was relying on for the score.
And it was his confirmation of Rovers finishing that let off the roar.
I didn't know who Phil was at the time and wondered who this frowny concerned looking bloke was standing at the front of the terrace.
But it was definitely the random in the throng who seemed to be the score go to guy. Wonder who that was!
Ah Torquay. Her Indoors and I decided we’d stay over so booked a cheap premier inn and a meal in a decent steakhouse where we expected to have a quiet and rather sombre dinner.
Set off early with a plan for a breakfast en route about 80 miles from home. So far, so good. Eggs and bacon eaten we are another 10 miles along when Her Indoors asks me if I picked up the tickets from the table.
After 15 minutes of “but you said…” “no, you weren’t listening I definitely told you…” “well I’m not standing outside the ground…” back and forth, we rang Torquay who said they had two seated tickets in the back row of the away section. Job done!
a pre match pint in the club bar chatting to some top Torquay lads and then that game! Friend on the phone giving us updates on Bristol, Jesus, “sit down if you love Wycombe”, the scenes at the end.
That meal in the steakhouse included cocktails and two bottles of decent red, the finest cuts and a fine malt to finish. It’s quite hard to eat steak when you’re grinning from ear to ear.
The only thing that could make that story better, would have been reaching into your back pocket at FT - to get your handkie to wipe your eyes - only to find your original tickets in there!
Looking at the highlights, it is utterly miraculous that Rovers didn't score that day. They hit the woodwork 3 times. Mansfield hit it once, but the ball went in. Amazing
Driving down (to say farewell or so we thought) the coffee stop for our route was Taunton Dean services. Sitting outside in our Quarters on being approached by a bloke with a broad Bristol accent I thought oh great here we go. “Are you lot Wycombe?” he asked stating the bleedin’ obvious. “Well I’m City, send those f*€kers out of the league lads” I think he said, which was something of a relief and of course we were only too happy to oblige.
What. A. Day. Very emotional just reading everyone’s recollections, let alone watching any footage.
This picture is from outside The Bucanneer Inn, Babbacombe. In hindsight, an absurdly wonderful spot to have been pre-match given the context. Lovely pub, great beers, glorious sunshine, views over the sea, friendly locals and plenty of Wycombe fans alongside our contingent. Whenever I have the opportunity for a pint of Proper Job, it transports me back to this moment. What a wonderful thing that is.
Even I did and I was late because I had bought a really expensive non-smart phone just before smart phones took off so was never going to upgrade til I got my moneys worth!
Dwelling on the gloom if things had gone differently that day is the opposite side of the "if only" coin. The one that says if only he'd been a millisecond earlier and connected for England in the box in the World Cup semi of 1990 or if Maradona hadnt been such a cheat in 1986 in fact there's a few England moments like that. So it's best just to appreciate that we did survive. As if we hadn't in that parallel universe we night have at least 2 more world cup wins under our belt.
It was early days for me on the smart phone. ‘Videoing’ the “I was there’” chant celebration. Next morning reviewing the footage - 3 mins of my nose and eye brow!! “you’re so $#*t it’s unbelievable” should have been my mantra🙄
Comments
Like others, I have very happy memories of that weekend. It felt that even though the odds were against us it would still be good to attend if it turned out to be our last football league game (look what has happened to Yeovil since).
The day picked up as we were queuing for tickets outside and one of the coaching staff came out and offered free tickets- I guess the players families hadn’t all come. Perhaps in hindsight I should make a donation to Torquay, but perhaps it was a good omen. I’d forgotten what a rollercoaster it was with Oxford leading then conceding and thinking Rovers would surely score. The experience once we were comfortably in the lead, and the match we were watching basically done, was not very enjoyable but the relief at the end is one of those feelings only football can provide.
To round off a great day we stayed in a pub on the edge of Dartmoor with some amazing Folk Music in the bar. What a memory!
I’ve re watched the footage. It is Jesus he has long DARK hair, I was wrong, he was correct. Believe!
Now as @bluntphil asked on the latest Ringing the Blues - who was he? can he be found? will he rise again?
We all know it was a case of mass hallucination, Jesus wasn't real. Only the belief he created on the terrace mattered, it's best he remain a mythical figure.
Like many others I travelled down with a sense of inevitable doom. I figured I saw the frost football league game at Carlisle, I should be there for the last one, possibly our last ever game.
I was quite taken aback by the positivity in the crowd before the match, but when Jesus manifested Himself at the front of the terrace I really started to think we could somehow still get out of the mire.
The match itself seemed to last an eternity, especially the second half.
The release on getting the final result in from the Horsepunchers was like nothing else I’ve experienced in football. Memories of Blooms skipping around whilst a match was going on around him, along with Gaz climbing the goalposts will live long in the memory.
I’m not a religious man by any stretch of the imagination but He clearly was a Chairboys fan that day!
My memory of that day is coloured by the fact that I was in considerable discomfort from a slipped disc, and indeed was finding it difficult to even walk, but there was no way we were going to miss this one! So into the car we piled and off we went.
I was resigned to the possibility of going down, the odds were too slim, but spurred on by the Believe sign paraded in front of the terrace, and the way the game was going, I began to feel a bit more optimistic.
Once the third goal had gone in, and Torquay had gone down to ten men, I felt a little bit more relaxed. At least it looked as if we'd done our bit, and would have no regrets on that score. As the game went on, I began to think that things might just turn out OK, as long as Rovers were behind. Can't pretend it was easy though. My abiding memory of the closing stages was @bluntphil walking up and down conveying the Rovers score, followed by the news of the final whistle from Bristol. We knew we were safe! The final few minutes of our game passed in a blur, then Gareth was in front of us swinging from the crossbar, and everyone was celebrating with pure relief!
When things had quietened down, and we were walking (hobbling in my case) back to the car, we were struck by the gracious Torquay supporters outside wishing us well.
Down to the seafront for an enjoyable pizza, and then we were homeward bound.
Couldn't really take in the fact that we'd survived, ten years later it still seems like the ultimate footballing miracle.
In these days of everyone having the latest scores at their finger tips, I seem to remember that day it was one bloke in the middle of the terrace that everyone was relying on for the score.
And it was his confirmation of Rovers finishing that let off the roar.
I didn't know who Phil was at the time and wondered who this frowny concerned looking bloke was standing at the front of the terrace.
But it was definitely the random in the throng who seemed to be the score go to guy. Wonder who that was!
Most people had smartphones in 2014, didn't they?
They did, which it why it seems odd looking back that a lot seemed to be relying on 1 randomer.
Ah Torquay. Her Indoors and I decided we’d stay over so booked a cheap premier inn and a meal in a decent steakhouse where we expected to have a quiet and rather sombre dinner.
Set off early with a plan for a breakfast en route about 80 miles from home. So far, so good. Eggs and bacon eaten we are another 10 miles along when Her Indoors asks me if I picked up the tickets from the table.
After 15 minutes of “but you said…” “no, you weren’t listening I definitely told you…” “well I’m not standing outside the ground…” back and forth, we rang Torquay who said they had two seated tickets in the back row of the away section. Job done!
a pre match pint in the club bar chatting to some top Torquay lads and then that game! Friend on the phone giving us updates on Bristol, Jesus, “sit down if you love Wycombe”, the scenes at the end.
That meal in the steakhouse included cocktails and two bottles of decent red, the finest cuts and a fine malt to finish. It’s quite hard to eat steak when you’re grinning from ear to ear.
Then to the streets to hug anyone wearing blue.
And what a decade since.
The only thing that could make that story better, would have been reaching into your back pocket at FT - to get your handkie to wipe your eyes - only to find your original tickets in there!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tRgU0uiitOM
Looking at the highlights, it is utterly miraculous that Rovers didn't score that day. They hit the woodwork 3 times. Mansfield hit it once, but the ball went in. Amazing
Driving down (to say farewell or so we thought) the coffee stop for our route was Taunton Dean services. Sitting outside in our Quarters on being approached by a bloke with a broad Bristol accent I thought oh great here we go. “Are you lot Wycombe?” he asked stating the bleedin’ obvious. “Well I’m City, send those f*€kers out of the league lads” I think he said, which was something of a relief and of course we were only too happy to oblige.
What. A. Day. Very emotional just reading everyone’s recollections, let alone watching any footage.
This picture is from outside The Bucanneer Inn, Babbacombe. In hindsight, an absurdly wonderful spot to have been pre-match given the context. Lovely pub, great beers, glorious sunshine, views over the sea, friendly locals and plenty of Wycombe fans alongside our contingent. Whenever I have the opportunity for a pint of Proper Job, it transports me back to this moment. What a wonderful thing that is.
We had exactly the same!
"Are you Wycombe?"
"Yeah"
" Do us a favour and send those bastards down today"
Shook us all by the hand and went on his way
Even I did and I was late because I had bought a really expensive non-smart phone just before smart phones took off so was never going to upgrade til I got my moneys worth!
Dwelling on the gloom if things had gone differently that day is the opposite side of the "if only" coin. The one that says if only he'd been a millisecond earlier and connected for England in the box in the World Cup semi of 1990 or if Maradona hadnt been such a cheat in 1986 in fact there's a few England moments like that. So it's best just to appreciate that we did survive. As if we hadn't in that parallel universe we night have at least 2 more world cup wins under our belt.
It was early days for me on the smart phone. ‘Videoing’ the “I was there’” chant celebration. Next morning reviewing the footage - 3 mins of my nose and eye brow!! “you’re so $#*t it’s unbelievable” should have been my mantra🙄