Baba O'Riley & The 92

Portsmouth  1  Peterborough United  0

English Football League Trophy

It wasn’t quite how it was supposed to be, when it came to completing the 92.

You see, throughout this season, I’ve been working on the fact it was five grounds needed to complete the quest. Number 87 was Reading, Charlton Athletic came in at 88, while at 89 was Southampton, closely followed by Fulham as the mission moved onto number 90.

Numbers 91 and 92, were going to be Portsmouth, and of course Tottenham Hotspur once they’d moved to their new stadium, which in all fairness I’d assumed would be before Christmas at the very least!

Clearly, I couldn’t obviously get to Spurs until it was open, and even then getting tickets was bound to be far from simple. So, it was always the plan that Spurs would be number 92. But, I had a caveat, and that was all based around the fact that I didn’t want to complete ground number 91, (Portsmouth) until Spurs had taken residence, for a reason that I shall try and explain.

You see, if I got to Portsmouth and Spurs hadn’t moved in, I would technically have completed the 92, but potentially only for a very short period of time, and in my own warped little World I didn’t want it all to end like that! I wanted 92 to be 92 and remain that way for a considerable period of time, not just a couple of months say?

The Iconic Frontage

But a few things have happened that questioned that call. The delays on the Spurs stadium have actually started to cast doubt as to whether it will be functional this season at all. The chat is that it still remains far from complete, and in reality 2019-20 is the likely entry date. That in itself would have meant putting number 91 off until next season, and in my own mind I didn’t want to do that.

Then, having been summoned to head office in Milton Keynes to do some assessments, I started to look at fixtures for the Tuesday evening where I had a room booked for the night. Initially I was looking at the likes of Dorking Wanderers and Molesey, but then while making a cursory look at the BBC Football website, I spotted it was Checkatrade Trophy Quarter Finals night.

Portsmouth v Peterborough United, 7pm kick off, £10 admission and two hours from Milton Keynes. On one level it was an absolute no brainer, I mean, cheap and available tickets, an early kick off meaning an earlier return, and the journey time halved. On another level it was troublesome, firstly it would mean that the 92 was done, for the foreseeable future, and furthermore, it was the Devil’s Cup, the competition we’ve been urged to boycott, beyond Mickey Mouse, unless of course you win it in which case it’s probably quite good!

I thought about it, and then spoke to Mrs H, we were both in agreement, it was like fate had presented an opportunity. Maybe it was meant to be like this, maybe Fratton Park, was after all destined to be the venue where a mission that started in 1980 was to be completed. Let’s be honest, everyone who’s done the 92 is going to have to go to Spurs, so what’s unique about finishing it at a stadium that’s just been built? No, and as much as it didn’t sit perfectly, it was going to be Pompey, I was going to bite the bullet and go for it.

North Stand

So, mission 92 then? It did start in 1980, at the Baseball Ground in Derby, but as that no longer exists, the first of the current grounds being used that I visited was the City Ground in Nottingham to see Forest beat Southampton 2-1. Peter Ward scored that day, who at the time was one of my footballing heroes.

At what point did I think it was actually achievable to complete the quest? Probably about three years ago when I had a run that bought the numbers right down, and working on the principle that I normally would get five or so a season in the bag, I reckoned a three year aim would be a realistic one. At the start of the current season I wanted to get them all done, barring potentially Spurs, but lets not labour on that one again!

I’ve only ever been in the City of Portsmouth twice, once en-route to St Malo via Brittany Ferries, which took in a tour of HMS Victory, and another time when a train trip from Bournemouth while on holiday seemed a good idea at the time.

Fratton Park did fascinate me though, one of the few remaining old fashioned football grounds that once hosted top flight football. This season virtually every home game has been a sell out, largely due to the fantastic support they have anyway, but also due to the fact they sit top of League One. 

Between 18,000 and 19,000 turn up every week, and I must admit, as what looks like a promotion gets closer, I did begin to think getting a ticket could be tricky.

The journey from MK was a breeze, the M25 almost opened itself for me, like it understood the magnitude of the occasion. Once on the A3, the sleet showers around Petersfield were brief, and as the road became a motorway, Portsmouth, and Southsea Island in particular was within sight.

The Away End

The route into Fratton Park is a simple one and it was while on the phone to Mrs H that the old style four pylon floodlights came into view, the Holy Grail was visible, it was within my grasp, and it was still three hours until kick off.

Parked just a street away, I had the chance to wander around the perimeter of the stadium, and it reminded me so much of the Baseball Ground. Tight, hemmed in, with tall stands and space at a premium, rows of houses adjacent, and on a cold and wet day, those floodlights looked majestic as they towered over the structures they sat alongside.

I had a feeling I was going to like it, but I still had niggles at the back of my mind. The pub just down the road provided relaxation and contemplation time, I was getting my head around it, slowly, I guess I needed to get into the ground to start to feel the experience properly.

Chips were sought and found, before I made my way down Frogmore Road and underneath the iconic Mock Tudor frontage of the club offices. The South Stand, built by the legendary Archibald Leitch, was my choice of seating, and once underneath, forty five minutes before kick off, it was sparsely populated as you would expect.

The Fratton End

Now, for quite some time, I’ve wanted to write a blog that linked with one of my favourite songs of all time, if not my absolute favourite. The brilliant ‘Baba O’Riley’ by the Who is that very song, but I just could not come up with a link, no matter how hard I tried and how spuriously I went about, it simply wouldn’t happen. 

It was then while stood in the narrow concourse behind the stand that I heard the PA system play the opening bars of the song, the first time I’ve ever heard it play inside a football stadium, ever! It was at that point that the niggles went away, this was the 92, this was meant to be, this is exactly how it was all meant to end.

Mrs H phoned again, she had probably been more excited than me up to this point, but I was now sharing the enthusiasm, along with just over 3,000 others, we had a Checkatrade Trophy game to watch.

The old South Stand is a wonderful structure, it’s been re-clad and re-seated, and despite the pillars that do obstruct the view a little, it’s a very atmospheric place to watch football from. Just prior to kick off, Mike Oldfield’s ‘Portsmouth’ was played, a tune that incidentally got to number three in the Top 40 back in the mid-seventies, and with the small crowd clapping along, you did wonder just what the atmosphere in a full Fratton Park would be like?

Archibald Leitch At His Finest

The North Stand was formerly terraced with seats at the back, but now it’s all seater from back to front. While both the Fratton End and Milton Road End terraces have been roofed and seated to meet what were Premier League requirement back in the clubs heady days of the mid-noughties when the FA Cup was won and Harry Redknapp was causing all kinds of South coast controversy with his antics.

It’s an absolute belter of a stadium, what better place to be, where better to hit the magic number?

The game itself while engaging, it wasn’t overly entertaining. Both sides were under strength yet both tried to play football. Chances were at a premium and it wasn’t until the 85^th minute that Pompey grabbed the all important goal that took them to a semi-final away at Bury.

The game to be fair, was almost a sideshow to the occasion, as we moved into injury time and the final whistle loomed, I began to wonder if this occasion meant as much to anyone else in the stadium as it did to me? In years to come, I can talk fondly about the night Pompey beat Posh in the Mickey Mouse Cup, who else amongst the 3,000 will be able to do that?

Checkatrade Trophy Action - Never To Be Forgotten.....

At the final whistle I jogged to the car, but on a couple of occasions I looked back at the floodlights shining brightly over Fratton Park, it reminded me so much of when I used to leave the Baseball Ground with my Dad all those years ago. Back when 92 football grounds wasn’t even heard of, let alone on the radar.

The journey out of Pompey and back to MK was simple enough and by 11pm I was in my room with a can of lager. I turned on the computer and went to my Excel spreadsheet, it had two names left on it, Portsmouth and Tottenham Hotspur.

I deleted Portsmouth, and then I deleted Tottenham Hotspur as well. Then, I listened to Baba O’Riley.