The petrol gage light never did come on. That's what Justin Newman said and he should know because he was driving the damn thing. Many wondered how that knackered old club mini-bus ever got a M.O.T this side of the millennium, let alone ferry the first eleven to their fixture with East Lodge in Portsmouth. Didn't matter of course. It came spluttering to a halt in a lay by. They'd just exited the M27 as well as the Hampshire Cup. Burridge gaffer Pete Lyons had to leave his Guinness to stand longer than he would have liked, as he made the mile or so journey to the empty vehicle.
Players stood scattered outside on the pavements as that old engine guzzled back a jerry can of diesel like some poor old nag fit for one place - the knacker's yard. Burridge weren't out of the woods yet. Newman had to negotiate a steep camber that required him to give the gas plenty of welly, which he did. So back to the boozer and back to the drawing board as Burridge came unstuck once more.
The pitch itself was rather like that old bore who picks the England side. It was dry, lifeless and a little too long. I'm not talking about his post match interview of course, which demonstrate the charisma of a down at heels sales rep, who's seen one service station too many. No, but his hair. This was quite probably due to the field's close proximity to the mighty Solent sea, whose viscously corrosive salt air may have rendered the pitch this way. So Steve McClaren's hair still remains a mystery and so do Burridge. Who are these men that sometimes suggest sometime they might just do something other than a Ben Hutton consolation goal.
B.Stanfield, R.Kelly, P.Dyke, M.Sanderson, L.Sanderson, K.Hewitt (S.Froud), S.Schwodler (J.Schwodler), J.Newman, G.Baker, B.Rowe, B.Hutton (S.Hewitt)