What is the worst condition you have been in but still attended a football match?

[mistermagic]

Mine was PSG/Lyon. Me and a group of friends took the habit of drinking a couple of beers before each home game but with the game being a 9pm kick-off (I hate those!) and a bit of a title decider we came in early and drank for hours. The tipping point was when I had to drink in one go an Amsterdamer Maximator (I think it's some something like 10% or more). Surely enough the game passed me by.

As I type this, I realise that the thread should rather read how wasted have you been attending a game or how many times you slept during a game?

Anyway, share your memories!

 

[Leo]

A right few years ago....Rangers v Aberdeen @ Ibrox....severely hung over from the night before's session...I felt really ill....worst I've ever felt going to a game.

 

[Dirk]

What is the worst condition you have been in but still attended a football match?

Absolutely no beer available in the stadium at an away game at half time (in Germany it is allowed to drink your beer in the stadium). Worst ever condition I had to attend a match

 

[Leo]

What is the worst condition you have been in but still attended a football match?

Absolutely no beer available in the stadium at an away game at half time (in Germany it is allowed to drink your beer in the stadium). Worst ever condition I had to attend a match

So Dirk, are you saying the worst condition you have been in was being sober because you couldn't drink at half time?

 

[Dirk]

Exactly, Leo. It was so unexpected, felt really ill

I guess it's the same when you really want to enjoy your favourite dish only to see that there's no Haggis available

 

[Leo]

Exactly, Leo. It was so unexpected, felt really ill

I guess it's the same when you really want to enjoy your favourite dish only to see that there's no Haggis available

Haggis ?...........Rather have a fish supper mate.

 

[Pliny Harris]

Went to see Chemnitzer FC vs. FSV Zwickau not too long ago, a night game on a Friday in the eastern city of Chemnitz. Was a bit worse for wear for that, having gone out the night before, had a fling and no sleep off the back of it. That didn't feel particularly bad at all, but then things started conspiring against us.

The police cordon for the Zwickau fans forced us to reach the railway station via a longer route, so we got there late. We approached a train back to Leipzig, where we were staying, which turned out not to be running. An owd boy who couldn't walk well stepped out of the train, and had a few suitcases to carry. Being decent, we spent 20 or so minutes taking his stuff to the other side of the station as he regaled us with tales of DDR life. Low on time after that and with few left in the station, we took a connecting train to Zwickau, and once we got there missed the last train to Leipzig.

After composing ourselves a bit, because we were flying back to Manchester early in the morning, we decided hitch hiking was the answer, so we jogged 5km with our stuff to the nearest autobahn junction. Got a lift at the lights, but only to the small town of Borna, about halfway back with 45km to go. There was a train at Borna station going at 3am, a very long wait, so we carried on hitchin'. Jogged another 5k to the next junction to flag down cars at the lights. No-one interested this time, so we multitasked by googling all the local taxi firms in hope somebody was still up. A cab driver finally took us up on our offer, we jogged to a nearby village so he had a street name to head for, and waited there for 20 minutes.

At that point we got a call back from the driver. He was there, he said, at Leipzig station, waiting for us. We'd chuffed up the communication. Nowt left for us to do but to jog back from this village to Borna station and catch that 3am train. We arrived, and it had been pouring it down all night, as the train pulled out from the platform. Rang through the taxi firms again, eventually got an offer, got picked up at 3:30am by a driver who charged us €90 for the privilege. Cycled back from Leipzig station to our flat, packed and changed out of our sweaty, soaking clothing, and took a bus to Berlin where our plane was late anyway (at least we found our first meal in 24 hours), to arrive back into Manchester. Drove over to watch Halifax Town play at Ashton Athletic in the FA Cup 2nd Qualifying Round in a profoundly greasy state, and stayed there for my 57th–59th hours of being awake.

The game was very hard to enjoy, the sun felt uncomfortable on my skin and I dribbled ketchup down my shirt. We did win though and I've kept up a gleaming record of never missing an FA Cup game with the Shaymen since 2008, which I think is 30 games by now, and hopefully 31 by tomorrow.

 

[Habbinalan]

Went to see Chemnitzer FC vs. FSV Zwickau not too long ago, a night game on a Friday in the eastern city of Chemnitz. Was a bit worse for wear for that, having gone out the night before, had a fling and no sleep off the back of it. That didn't feel particularly bad at all, but then things started conspiring against us.

The police cordon for the Zwickau fans forced us to reach the railway station via a longer route, so we got there late. We approached a train back to Leipzig, where we were staying, which turned out not to be running. An owd boy who couldn't walk well stepped out of the train, and had a few suitcases to carry. Being decent, we spent 20 or so minutes taking his stuff to the other side of the station as he regaled us with tales of DDR life. Low on time after that and with few left in the station, we took a connecting train to Zwickau, and once we got there missed the last train to Leipzig.

After composing ourselves a bit, because we were flying back to Manchester early in the morning, we decided hitch hiking was the answer, so we jogged 5km with our stuff to the nearest autobahn junction. Got a lift at the lights, but only to the small town of Borna, about halfway back with 45km to go. There was a train at Borna station going at 3am, a very long wait, so we carried on hitchin'. Jogged another 5k to the next junction to flag down cars at the lights. No-one interested this time, so we multitasked by googling all the local taxi firms in hope somebody was still up. A cab driver finally took us up on our offer, we jogged to a nearby village so he had a street name to head for, and waited there for 20 minutes.

At that point we got a call back from the driver. He was there, he said, at Leipzig station, waiting for us. We'd chuffed up the communication. Nowt left for us to do but to jog back from this village to Borna station and catch that 3am train. We arrived, and it had been pouring it down all night, as the train pulled out from the platform. Rang through the taxi firms again, eventually got an offer, got picked up at 3:30am by a driver who charged us €90 for the privilege. Cycled back from Leipzig station to our flat, packed and changed out of our sweaty, soaking clothing, and took a bus to Berlin where our plane was late anyway (at least we found our first meal in 24 hours), to arrive back into Manchester. Drove over to watch Halifax Town play at Ashton Athletic in the FA Cup 2nd Qualifying Round in a profoundly greasy state, and stayed there for my 57th–59th hours of being awake.

The game was very hard to enjoy, the sun felt uncomfortable on my skin and I dribbled ketchup down my shirt. We did win though and I've kept up a gleaming record of never missing an FA Cup game with the Shaymen since 2008, which I think is 30 games by now, and hopefully 31 by tomorrow.

Legend has it that the famous Cambridge Moose originated from the smell emanating from one of the faithful (before my time) when he turned up for an away match after a similar if less complicated August journey. Couldn't have been FA Cup though, coz we'd never heard of qualifying rounds in those days.

What do you know, I've found the link and it was Grimsby, first match of the season, 1989.

http://www.amberarmy.net/marmoo.htm

 

[Pliny Harris]

Legend has it that the famous Cambridge Moose originated from the smell emanating from one of the faithful (before my time) when he turned up for an away match after a similar if less complicated August journey. Couldn't have been FA Cup though, coz we'd never heard of qualifying rounds in those days.

What do you know, I've found the link and it was Grimsby, first match of the season, 1989.

http://www.amberarmy.net/marmoo.htm

That's amazing. Thank heavens we already have a fox for a mascot and I'm already regarded as too much of a character to stand near.

 

[Lamby]

Swindon away in the playoffs, after a solid 4 hours of drinking I couldn't even remember much of the game. The same applied 3 days later for the home leg, which I remember more of, but still had a solid 4 hours in the pub before.

Also went to a game 2 days after having surgery on a hernia. Could hardly walk and got there at near enough half time. To make it worse, we lost.

 

[TubularBells]

The day before the 1994 2nd Division Play Off Final (League 1 now) I got Gastroenteritis. Was coming out both ends and I was more worried about not being able to go to Wembley than how ill I was. Still don't know how I made it through that day, or manage to keep down the beers which I decided to start drinking about the time we reached Walsall (RAC) on the motorway. Oddly, the alcohol seemed to help.

 

[Bilo]

This was back in the spring of 2005. In Sweden, the football season runs from early april to early november. Me, I grew up in a city with one of the most famous and successful ice hockey teams in Sweden, and the whole city generally breathes ice hockey, so football is second to that in every imaginable aspect.

I started attending matches when we were in the fourth division, mid-nineties. The average attendance would have been around 400 I guess. But from roundabout when I started attending we slowly advanced, and in november 2004 we made it to the first division with the smallest budget in the second division; an upset to say the least. We only got relegated this season, so that's 12 seasons in a row in the top flight with a budget that would normally see a club bouncing between the third and second division. Quite a remarkable story in itself but not sure if it's to read in English, unfortunately.

Anyway, I was obviously looking forward to the opening day of the 2005 season, as back then the consensus was that we'd be there for one season to then quickly regress back to the third division where we rightfully belonged. This was not least because our long serving manager, taking us from the third division to the top flight, tragically died from a heart attack shortly after the promotion and he had been key to our success up to that point.

When the day which had been marked in my calendar for months came around, I had a horrible flu and a fever. I grew up in quite humble circumstances, my dad didn't have a car so we always rode our bikes to the match. To add to it, it was ridiculously cold, below the 0 mark which is remarkable in Sweden, even in april.

But against my dad's advice, I went with him to the match, at home to Helsingborg (the mother club of Henrik Larsson, fyi). Couldn't have been more than 3000 in attendance. I think we lost 2-0 and I remember that I couldn't feel my feet from mid second half. I felt horrible and I remember regretting at the time that I went at all. I don't now, of course. Still don't know how I made it home on the bike, it's probably enhanced through time and nostalgia but I can't remember feeling worse, ever. The flu then got significantly worse and I was knocked out for a week.

I've also thrown up outside of Anfield before the Arsenal game in the early 2012-13 season. Ran into a bachelorette party throwing away free shots the night before, but at least the weather was alright. We lost 2-0 that day as well.

Moral of the story: if you feel shit you're gonna lose 2-0.

 

[Jamie_SFC]

New Years day games are never nice if we're at home. Chelsea at home on NYD 2014 was horrific.

I had a huge drinking session that new years eve and the only reason I went to the game was because the hotel I woke up at was closer to the stadium than it was to my house. As soon as kick off approached, I felt the hangover take full effects with an almighty come down (the back end of 2013 wasn't a great time for me). We lost 3-0. I barely paid attention to the game and just sat in my seat with my hands in my head.

Rewind to 5 in the evening on New Years Eve and there I was saying "I'm not getting that smashed tonight, Saints are playing tomorrow". Famous last words.

Thankfully I've not done MDMA since so at least one positive came from it.