On the Northern Line towards West Finchley the Voodoo Stick attracted much attention, not least from the cutest little middle-class bundle of 5 year old innocence I've ever seen. Her mother, meh, one of those 'It's Grim Up North London' types, insipid chin all crumbly cheese and biscuits, and indeed, they got off at Highgate. But nevertheless the girl charmed me with how besotted she was with the Voodoo Stick. After much nervousness she finally asked me what it was. "It's a magic staff that I take to football matches to help my favourite team win," I explained. Her face lit up with wonderment. "Are you a wizard?" she asked. I thought for a moment. "Yes, yes I suppose I am." Whoops. One day she's gonna be so disappointed by the reality of football.
And then some football happened. Dulwich Hamlet, resplendent in their yellow & green away kit, went right up in the first minute and scored, Ian Daly with an unDalyesque scrappy poach from a rebound. Everyone was mid-trapse towards the goal, it was almost a rude interruption. We sang for most of the remaining first half, though Wingate & Finchley tried to slowly kill us by being the most moribund team we've encountered away thus far in the Isthmian Prem. Dulwich failed to capitalise, so it remained dodgily 1-0 up until half-time.
Second half, this time under a tin-roof terrace. A reminder of how great the acoustics are in those things. Some brilliant chanting, banging etc. Erhun gets sent thru one-on-one, slow-motion, moment of (our) doubt, clinical finish. BOOM, game wrapped up. Except this is the new look Hamlet with their molten marshmallow defensive formation. Two nothing goals conceded in five minutes. What the hell? Deary me. Hope ebbing away. For a while W&F looked by far the most likely to score the next one. Ellis Green comes on (welcome back!). We start attacking. Brave goalkeeping stops us on a few occasions. Running out of time. Singing frustrated rather than joyous. Cursing and gallow humour.
Injury time free-kick out wide-ish. Ellis takes it... everyone misses it.. it's gone in!!! FUCKING YES. Partytime, Dulwich Hamlet style. Declarations of love. Sore throats roaring effortlessly. Hugs, fistpumps and raved predictions that utopia is on its way.
As the final whistle went I glanced at the mask of the Voodoo Stick. To my jawdropping amazement it gave me a cheeky wink. Suddenly I realised, and even now I can't believe it - the magic of said staff had somehow (don't ask me how!) sucked the ball into the back of the net! I thought back to that little girl on the tube... I turned to the camera and laughed. [FADE TO PINK]