On Sunday 4th January 2009, millions of you might’ve watched Aston Villa play against Gillingham at the KRBS Priestfield stadium, in the FA Cup Third Round live on ITV1.
You may have watched the build-up, where it takes a look at both teams, what this tie means, the history between the two sides, etc.
You probably watched the match itself, and saw Aston Villa win the game 2-1 with a double from young talent James Milner, who was also celebrating his 23rd birthday that day.
Now before I get any further, Aston in Birmingham might not be the nicest of places, but to celebrate your birthday in Gillingham, apparently home to chavs, pikeys, and scumbags alike, let’s just say it’s the one place where you would NOT want to celebrate your birthday.
Anyway, you probably saw the post-match analysis, with several replays of the goals, chances, and of course the big talking point, the penalty.
You may have seen all that, but what you didn’t see was a pitch-side view for the entire game, seeing all the hand signals and mannerisms of the players, hearing what they said to each other, and what the referee said to them.
But now you will, as I take you through the game, through the eyes of the person sitting in the Gordon Road stand, Block G, Row A. Here is Gillingham v Aston Villa through the eyes of Yoosof Farah.
It's 12.45 p.m., kick-off is in 45 minutes. I step outside my house, and the usually quiet road on a Sunday (the only day it is quiet) is packed full of cars, all heading one way—to the KRBS Priestfield stadium.
I arrive at the ground for about 1.10 p.m. Just before I reach the turnstiles I look through the gates and see too many people queuing. My friend Brian, a programme seller, hasn’t stopped for an hour; People throw money at him desperate for one of those precious programmes on this very special occasion.
Damn it, it’s too long. I make my way to my seat and turn round to see a ball being kicked around. I look up to see fans desperate to get their picture of Nigel Reo-Coker and Curtis Davies.
I look at my phone. 1.25 p.m. The queue’s gone down, I can make it in time. I run to get my programme, I wait patiently. Two left. My friend Dan wanted one as well. I snatch both programmes and leg it back to my seat, desperate to get back in time to see the start of the game and to avoid the angry mob who were behind me deprived of a programme.
1.30 p.m., kick-off time. I draw a huge smile as I look up and see a packed out stadium. I knew it would happen one day. Nice to see something good, that’s a nice bit of £ in the bank for my local club.
Happiness can only last so long, and at 1.44 p.m. the happiness evaporated. The Bulgarian whom I would later win a battle with passed the ball to James Milner, who made no mistake and put it past Simon Royce, giving Aston Villa a 1-0 lead with 14 minutes gone.
"Fuck’s sake, not another shocker at Priestfield, surely?," I could tell was the general consensus amongst the home fans.
You saw what happened for the rest of the half; it wasn’t much different from where I was sitting. I wanted the Gills to get an equaliser, and if you’re not a Villa fan, I’m sure you did too. Of course, that’s what the FA Cup is all about: giants being slain, reputations tarnished, heroes made.
2.16 p.m., half-time whistle blows. My seat is empty. I’m starving, and I’ve been queuing for what, 10 minutes now? Finally I get my good ol’ burger n' chips at 2.20 p.m. Now I’ve just got to edge past this shocker of a queue, and somehow get back to my seat.
Food eaten, programme read, we’re ready to go again at 2.31 p.m. As I said before, you know what happens after the re-start. You know, up to 57 minutes played.
"He isn’t, is he? Oh my God he’s done it! Yes Jacko! Absolutely fucking fantastic!"
Canadian international Simeon Jackson collects the ball wide right, and hammers in his 12thgoal of the season. Against Aston Villa, who are fourth in the EPL. Past Brad Friedel, who has 82 caps for the USA (at time of match).
The cacophony of applause, the roar of happiness, the pure ecstasy in over 9,000 fans and in the millions more on tuned in on the game lifts me up onto my feet as I clench my fist and punch it into the air to signal my delight.
This is where giants are slain, reputations tarnished, heroes made. This is where the Canadian from Jamaica, the best current player in a Gillingham shirt, keeps alive the romance of the greatest domestic competition in the world.
Time goes on, and you and I are desperate for that cup upset. Could it really happen? This looks ominous. Aston Villa are awarded a free-kick with 75 minutes gone. 3.01 p.m., and Ashley Young is standing over the ball, ready and waiting.
The ref sorts something out in the box, and Stiliyan Petrov is there with Ashley Young, ready to play his part in the set-piece routine they practiced the other day at Bodymoor Heath.
But while the ref is sorting things out, he takes the chance to quickly pull up his socks and shin pads. And have a look at the crowd.
We make direct eye contact. The Bulgarian looks away, but can’t resist looking back to see if that kid was actually staring at him. He was. Stiliyan Petrov and I hold a stare for about 3 seconds, I then clench my fist. Then he looks away, looking at the ground in defeat.
He has 74 caps for Bulgaria, and is his nation’s hero, as well as a Glasgow Celtic legend. But in that moment he was weak, and I easily out stared him, and won the battle, the battle between Gillingham (fans) and Aston Villa.
It would make for a good consolation, as after the free-kick went wide, Ashley Young charged forward for another try.
I think Adam Miller is a terrible player, and for me he is a bit clumsy sometimes. Perhaps Ashley Young was thinking this as well as he sees Miller coming in and then gets clattered.
Well you would’ve thought that had you just seen the PFA Young Player of the Year go down. But if you saw what happened before that—which you probably did—you’d be annoyed too.
The ecstasy around the stadium, and the talk of a replay, were all destroyed as Gillingham were dealt a killer blow.
Referee Keith Stroud, reflecting about it in my room, made a decision he thought was right. He was only doing his job, as he pointed to the spot and awarded a penalty. For Ashley Young, on the other hand, diving/simulation is not in the job description.
A good birthday for James Milner (well, it’s better than being on the streets in Gillingham, isn’t it?) got better as he converted the penalty, getting his second, pushing him and his mates closer to the next round, and giving his fans something to cheer about.
"Freak" is the name Gillingham fans use for Peter Crouch after he visited Priestfield many years ago as a QPR player. In his autobiography, Walking Tall: Peter Crouch, the Portsmouth striker talks about his disgust for Gillingham, and his hate for Gillingham fans, brandishing them “a bunch of pikeys.”
There might be another player soon to fall out with the Gillingham faithful. After the penalty, Ashley Young received a chorus of boos from the Gillingham fans, who brandished him a cheat. Many in the stadium probably had respect for Young beforehand, only seeing his talents on TV.
But when he’s only metres away, you can see what a dive is and what’s not; and there was a dive Cristiano Ronaldo would’ve been proud of.
3.19 p.m. and the game is over, and I very quickly leave the stadium, trying to leave my memories behind. 3.35 p.m. and I see someone talking, to a reporter, in front of a camera. "Best make the most of it."
"Who’s next?" "I am!" For the next two minutes I speak to this man about the game, and I stare straight at that camera. ITV? The whole nation is watching me!?
I ask afterwards who he works for, and let’s just say it was a bit of an anti-climax. Kent Messenger Radio, no disrespect to them of course. You probably don’t know who they are, have a look. www.kentonline.co.uk
I then chit-chat with my friends about the match, and slowly walk home as my muscles decided to slow things down a bit, after being attacked by the bite from that freezing cold wind, courtesy of English weather, with a little help from the Arctic.
It’s 4 p.m. exactly when I arrive home. I play darts whilst watching Sky Sports News, and don’t hear much until the words Aston Villa. "Villa’s reward for a tricky win over Gillingham is an away trip to..." For some reason there seems to be a prolonged delay, until I hear "Cheltenham Town or Doncaster Rovers."
To avoid causing offence, I won’t elaborate too much, but let’s just say for the 1.9 million population of Kent, or for just me perhaps, it would’ve been one of the biggest anti-climaxes ever.