May 4th 2019
It was the last day of the 2018/19 Scottish Championship season and the Falkirk game was chosen for the fact that they were rooted to the bottom of the table, needed a win and hoped other games went in their favour to avoid relegation to third tier of Scottish football (League One). Not only was this task a tall order, the team they were playing, Ross County, had just wrapped up the season as league winners.
Ross, Rab and myself (Simon), were in attendance for todays game along with 4682 desperate Falkirk Fans and a few Ross County fans who had travelled the 300 mile round trip to see their team end the season as champions of the Scottish Championship
A bit about the team
Falkirk, nicknamed “the Bairns”, were formed in 1876 and elected to the Scottish Football league at the start of the 1900s. They held their place in the top tier of Scottish Football before World War 2, retaining their position for an amazing 30 seasons, however post war the team have bounced between the top and 2nd tier, even with the odd visit to the 3rd tier.
The club won the Scottish cup in 1913 and 1957, reached the Scottish cup final 3 times in the last 22 years, reached the league cup final once, finished 2nd in the top tier, albeit in the early part of the 1900s, 7 times Scottish 2nd tier champions (a record they hold with St Johnstone) and runner up 8 times. Not too bad for a town with a population of 35,000.
A bit about the stadium
Falkirk played the vast majority of their football at Brockville park from 1885 to 2003. The former stadium was vastly terraced, meaning that the club were denied promotion to the Premier League on 3 separate occasions as the ground did not meet Premier league criteria, which meant clubs had to be all seated and a capacity of 10,000 at the time before changing to 6,000 a few years later.
The club had no option but to modernise its facilities. They sold Brockville to a supermarket and moved away from the town centre to Falkirk Stadium, which is about a half hour walk from the town centre. The new Falkirk stadium has a capacity of just under 8,000.
Personally I was impressed with the ground, all seated at 3 sides, west, north and south sides, however the east side remains unbuilt, although a temporary stand has in place in the past, the last time I recall seeing this was when Falkirk last played in the Premier league in season 2009/2010.
Costs
The train from Glasgow Queen Street was £11.10 return to Falkirk Grahamston, which if you are going to Falkirk, is closer to the town centre than Falkirk High, which also runs from Glasgow Queen Street.
This was our 5th Championship ground visit on the tour out of 8 so far. The ticket price was £20 to get in, which was the average price paid so far for Championship games, and was also a realisation that we need to get to the other 3 divisions for season 2019/20.
The game
We had hoped in picking the Falkirk game that they would pull off the impossible and manage to avoid automatic relegation. They needed Ayr United to beat Alloa to have a chance of staying up.
We took our seats in front of 4 elderly Falkirk fans, who from kick off to the final whistle gave an explicit running commentary of the game, which kept us in hysterics for the vast majority of the match, which also included blaming Sir Sean Connery for the situation on the park. I couldn’t make the connection either.
First half
The game started brightly for Falkirk who went ahead in the 27th minute, although 6 minutes later Alloa took the lead in their game, which is not the way the desperate Bairns wanted the day to go.
A wave of celebration came over the stadium as the Falkirk fans, simultaneously tuned into the Alloa game, learned that Ayr United had equalised.
At half time, Falkrik were leading 1-0 and the Alloa game was tied at 1-1. The nervous atmosphere was too much and I had to get a hot pie and Bovril.
The Pie
I recall a smaller pie than usual, which was probably the size of the pie’s at the other games but actually being sober this time, may have impaired my judgement previously. I thought that Ross had purchased a pie also but on closer inspection it turns out it was a cake. Who the fuck buys a cake at the fitbaw!
Second half
The hope of a miracle started to disappear when Ross County got the equaliser on 58th Minute and things went from bad to worse for Falkirk, when Ross County took the lead on the 73rd minute. Now looking doomed to relegation to the 3rd tier, the Falkirk fans started to kick off with a few hundred fans rushing to the side of the pitch to register their disgust at the clubs board.
Falkirk equalised two minutes later and took a 3-2 lead just another 2 minutes later. The fans ground started to believe again and all they needed was Ayr United to score to give them a lifeline.
Sadly for the Falirk fans this didn’t happen and news spread that the Alloa game had finished at 1-1 and Falkirk were relegated.
There was rage on the faces of the few hundred Falkirk young team, who at this time looked like they were going to rush the pitch, to the slight nervousness of the two stewards in front of them. There was also guy in his early 50s with tears running down his face as he watched his team relegated to the 3rd tier of Scottish football.
To us, essentially as tourists and supporting teams who don’t normally get into this position, it shows how much a club means to everyone from top to bottom in Scotland and how devastating this was for the individuals concerned, the rest of the fans and the club. The folk who would lose their jobs from playing staff to the cleaners. A huge disappointment for a club and hopefully they will bounce back up next season.
The day out (before the game)
The shortest break we’ve had between games, having only attended Firhill two weeks before, the carnage of that particular day was still fresh in the memory.
We jumped the train at Glasgow Queen Street to Falkirk with one beer each, which was very conservative compared to recent outings. I even brought a packed lunch!
The train stopped at Falkirk High but stayed on Polmont as advised by the ticket inspector to get a train back to Falkirk Grahamston which is in Falkirk town centre.
Got off the train and the train back was cancelled. Rather than wait for the next train we got a taxi into the town centre to Falkirk Grahamston and started our first proper pint of the day in the Railway Tavern.
We sat down with our pints of Tennents and the first sip was awful. I proceeded to keep forcing myself to drink it, not wanting it to go to waste and partially because I had paid for it. Half way through, without a word of a lie, I involuntarily wretched, not baulked! wretched! so loud it should have sent the barmaid immediately down to the cellar bin the barrel, pour bleach down the beer lines and set fire to the pub.
After that unpleasantness, we headed to The Greame Hotel bar and were glad to see cleaning beer lines was a thing in Falkirk.
We stopped in at the Orchard bar to get our bearings towards the staduim and it was decided that we had to get a taxi to make kick-off. It was time to head to the Stadium and Boab once again sorted tickets.
The day out (after the game)
It was a strange one after the game. The minimal amount of alcohol prior to the game and the auld men battering on from start to finish including half time and the relegation of Falkirk left us deflated. By the time we left Falkirk stadium, Ross had a hangover, Rab had heartburn and I was jonesing for a kebab. It was decided that we needed 10cc’s of alcohol stat to get the day out back on track.
The closest pub from the staduim in the direction we were heading back into town was the Mill Inn. My general rule is not to go in to pubs were the windows are frosted glass or take up less than 2 percent of the facing of the building. Its a rule that’s served me well over the years and gererally states, ‘this is a local pub for nut jobs and you are not welcome’. This aside, with both Rab and Ross floundering I made an executive decision and we went in. Not too bad of a wee pub but definitely a one pinter.
Our football coupons had not done well from the 3 o’clock kickoff, so it was decided that we would would put on a final collective coupon, pick a game each, both teams to score, for the Saturday evening kick offs. Notorously bad at betting, my pick was immediatley written off by Rab who, quite rightly has no confidence in my betting abilities.
Next it was up on to Manor Street, which appeared to be the main bit for pubs in Falkirk and had a few bars for us to crawl through. First was Aitkens, which was a busy wee pub, before heading along to the Scotia, were we were asked to test some new cocktails for free. This put the spring back in our step after floundering earlier and we headed over to the Wellington Bar.
We got a seat in the Wellington and with the football on (Sunderland were playing), we settled down for a couple of pints. The results from the 3 games we picked earlier in our coupon started to come in with my own pick astonishingly coming up first, then Ross’s and it was down to Rab’s pick and we needed Sunderland to score, being 1-0 down. The ball went over the top and the Keeper took the Sunderland forward out the game and gave a penalty, which is beautifully rattled in to the back of the net.
The rest of the crowd in the Wellington looked on perplexed as we collectively celebrated our bookies win of £80 as if we had won £80,000
We then when to Sportsters Bar, which was not too bad of a venue, then to the obligatory Spoons for one last pint before heading to the Station for the train back to Glasgow.
Normally, this is the point we go nuts and start buying far too much train beers but the conservatitive approach to the day lasted throughout and we only got a couple for the 20 minute train ride back to Glasgow.
At the change back at Glasgow Queen Street, we left Ross and me and Rab cought the train in the direction of Clydebank/Dumbarton. Scotrail seem to have a policy of locking the toilet doors on later trains and by the time I got to Drumchapel I was bursting. I knew I couldn’t make it back to Dumbarton and thought the best option was to jump off the train at the next station, which was Drumry, for a quick toilet break and make it back on to the train. A poor decision as I was the only person who got off at Drumry and as quick as I had my zip down, facing the bushes, the doors shut, much to Rabs amusement. The train was not even on the horizon when I had finished and had to wait half an hour on the next train.
I then managed to fall asleep on the next train and woke up in Balloch at the end of line. Still early enough to get a train back thankfully, I forced myself to stay awake back to Dumbarton to make sure I didn’t wake up in Edinburgh.
Ready for season 2019/20
The 42
The 42 