Football on a Saturday Afternoon... in England

Not much to say today. Probably won’t be much more to say for the remainder of my trip.
Today I waited for the company responsible for my presence in Birmingham to arrive. One of the guys, the customer contact, wanted to see a football match, so we got tickets to the Birmingham City v. Wigan match today. He was giddy, it was his first match; I was not as happy, but I got a kick out of watching this reserved guy break loose a little. We parked on the street a few blocks from the stadium, and after a long, protracted search we found our match tickets.
We then went to the team store, me for a scarf and he for a shirt (American = jersey) and a few other knick-knacks for his kids. Eventually we got to the game, and sat. This time, we were four rows from the field. The problem was that we were behind the sideline area for the players, and couldn’t see one corner of the field (or the line on the opposite side). No matter.
The fans were louder on average but not as rowdy as they were in Cardiff. There were three times the seats, but only 10,000 more fans- nevertheless, the stadium felt huge by comparison to the last game. The home side- Birmingham City FC- went by the nicknames of “Brum” or “Brummies” for the city and “Blues” or “Bluenoses” for the team. This city is the Chicago of England; blue-collar origins, hardworking, but sprawling and huge. The un-official program/fanzine says it plain as day- the team knows that they can’t put butts in seats when they charge too much. “45 quid is right out for the matches with likes of (the bottom of the league), so pardon our cynicism when they magically lower the prices 30 bob.” The fans want to come, they just can’t afford it, kind of like… Chicago hockey under (the late) Bill Wirtz.
At first, the game was shaping up in a very similar fashion to my first game- the away side (Wigan Athletics, wearing gray) scored first, then the home side (BCFC, wearing blue with white fronts) scored a penalty kick. That’s about where it ended though, at we went to half time tied at 1.
I waited in line for the concession for almost 20 minutes, by which the game had restarted. The weather had turned sour, and was spitting drizzle and a cold wind was blowing. I know it could not have been good for my currently weakened health, but we toughed it out. Wigan scored again on a goal we couldn’t see, then the Blues scored twice on goals for which my soccer-playing companion had a deep appreciation. One was a header on a corner kick, but not initially; the other was a low shot that was screened and missed by all the defenders at which he said it was “magical.” He had a video camera and recorded a full chant, complete with crowd clapping and pointing.
The game ended 3-2, and we headed straight back to the hotel in the dank English autumn evening. My companion drove and I was quite impressed; he kept offering the wheel to me and I politely refused each time. By the time we got back, I started to get a chill, one of those wonderful precursors to a hot flash. But my coughing is now better (if not less painful) and I have more medicine choices- and thankfully more cough drops.
Talk tomorrow is of a trip to a castle; as a result, I’m doing everything I can to get better before tomorrow morning. Warwick Castle is allegedly a doozy and I would love to go… if I am healthy enough to do so. Meantime, I’m watching the 5 channels of television has to offer (as I have read all my reading material already).