I mentioned in the last blog that there were a few others with the same distrust in Ryanair as we had. Turned out, there were hundreds of people at the airport when we got here at 10pm, despite the next flight being at 6 am. Don't know what that says about Charleroi as a town, when everyone would rather sleep at the airport than spend any longer there.
I had argued with the lads that the job was complete & we were no longer under the restrictions of our budget, therefore it wasn't cheating to get a hotel for the night, but as there were none within miles of the airport, I was talked round. I'd earlier managed to put a €4 dent in the budget's last €20 anyway by losing my train ticket to the airport somewhere between boarding the train & sitting down, in the first seat by the doors. I was too tired to even look for it,so just paid the money. Dean & Jamie were none too impressed.
We arrived at the airport & headed straight for the bar. Spending the night in there would've seen it pass by quicker. We queue up, get a Stella each & they pull the shutters down straight away. Bang on 10pm. Everything in the airport is now closed,& we've a Stella each & a manky club sandwich. That's our lot for the night,so we try to bed down amongst the stragglers at the check-in desk. Using bags for pillows,it's really not working for me. I'm obviously on my own in that one,as Jamie is leading the choir in that collective snoring I touched upon earlier & Dean's not far behind him. I grab my bag & head off to the toilets,plugging my phone into a socket there,whilst I have a shave & a bit of a wash. Yes, in the public toilets of an airport,but needs must.
I finally get a bit of shuteye around 3.30 & at approximately 3:34 some big Belgian security guard is kicking my feet,telling me we have to get up as they're about to open the check-in desk were sleeping on. Magic. I'm broken at this stage & just need to sleep somewhere, anywhere. Parked up between Jamie & Dean, it's my turn to snore the airport down.
We eventually board the flight around 9am,after our 11 hour mini- recreation of Tom Hanks' The Terminal, & there's a gentleman boarding with the Ryanair staff making a right fuss over him. I'm still in a dreamlike state at this point but Dean is adamant that its Roberto Di Matteo. The pros being that he does look a bit like him & is flying "first class". First class with f**king Ryanair. Unbelievable. The cons being that the guy is clearly Belgian & is flying into Manchester,on derby day,wearing a City scarf. I'm not sure auld Robbie would pin his colours to the City mast so soon,but I suppose he is after a job.
We land in Manchester & fair play to Ryanair. They were the key for me to this entire trip running to plan (or as near as possible) & they didn't let us down. My wife picks us up from the airport & it's great to see her again. We all head back to my apartment to have much needed showers & freshen up.
Paul, one of the original 'masterminds' behind the whole trip, who couldn't make it in the end,has driven up from Norfolk for the Everton v Spurs game & meets us at mine. I've been in contact with Everton before we set off on our journey, & I've arranged to meet Alan Bowen,the Head of Stadium Operations, at 1pm at the Park End,to find the best spot for making sure the flag is prominently displayed to be visible on Match of the Day that night. It's now 12 & we're still milling about at my place. That old familiar adrenaline kicks in again, as we've an hour to get to Goodison & Mr Bowen doesn't come across as the sort of man you want to keep waiting. I have to say, it's been like a drug all week. My body is completely exhausted,just wants to sleep,relax & unwind,yet as soon as the excitement of the possibilities of the next game kick in,it's completely reinvigorated & just buzzing
Paul drops me at the Park End Box Office,where I meet Robert Elstone, the Everton Chief Executive briefly,as he is then introduced to a Tottenham representative, I assume his counterpart. Mr Bowen comes down to take me through to the Park End itself,& he is almost exactly as he came across in his e-mails. Very pleasant,yet with a huge air of authority. He often interrupts my poor attempts at small talk to bark orders at those we pass,yet he's very respectful & knows every single employee we pass. I get to the wall behind the goal & unlike every other ground we've been to in the past 8 weeks, it's a completely flat surface, with nothing to tie the flag onto. Nightmare, as the tape in the bag is running low & the wind is kicking up horrendously. I stick it down as best I can &, as I'm doing so, a couple of the Everton players are filtering through to the changing rooms. First of them is Bryan Oviedo, our new Costa Rican summer signing,with his wife & young child. I say hello & try to muster a few words but after his 3rd hello, it becomes apparent that he doesn't speak much English, & was only being polite, so I leave him to it. Kevin Mirallas walks past & I barely recognise him, as he's just had a very severe haircut that Alan Bowen passes comment on, completely shaved, just leaving a little mohican style strip of hair on top. I ask him how the hamstring injury that has kept him out for a while is,& he looks puzzled. I try to explain a bit about the flag but the language barriers a problem yet again,& even trying to tell him that I was in his native Belgium this morning isn't getting across. The fact that I seemed to have developed a lisp overnight,thanks to my tongue hitting against my broken front tooth,makes the whole scenario all the more ludicrous.I ask if he's thtarting,as he hasn't in a while due to the injury,but Alan moves me along,explaining that he isn't but everyone has to report on matchday anyway.
Kev Mirallas
With the flag relatively well hung,it's across to the Winslow Pub, opposite Goodison for a few celebratory drinks, a catch up with Paul & to watch a bit of the Manchester derby.
It's a celebratory mood,even if we are all shattered,as well as a bit dazed & confused. The beers are flowing & Jamie, who's never been to Goodison before, asks how the atmosphere will stack up against the places we've been this week. Paul & Dean,who've both been here several times, almost sneer when I explain to Jamie that we don't do scarves & flags (ironically). We don't sing for 90 mins,in fact rarely at all, at home, but you will never be to an angrier, more partisan, noisier place if the game goes a certain way. Bearing in mind, our week consisted of an Edinburgh derby, standing on the Gallowgate, a must win Champions League fixture, the fabled Nou Camp, the San Siro, the Ultras of Hamburg & Anderlecht,Goodison would need to be a bit special to compete with that,at least for the neutral.
We finish up our drinks & say our goodbyes as Paul & Dean make their way to the away end,whilst Jamie's sitting in the Lower Gwladys with me.
We take our seat & I'm amazed to see the flag,situated at the other end of the ground,has got an Irish tricolour & a Union Jack positioned right next to it. Bearing in mind all the nonsense that's going on at the time back in Northern Ireland about flags at City Hall,it's a pretty remarkable coincidence.
I'm even more amazed to see the Everton players warming up just before kick-off, as Kev Mirallas is in the starting line-up. Somewhat more bizarrely, he's shrunk about a foot & lost that bizarre haircut he had 2 hours ago. Yeah, it wasn't Mirallas I'd been talking to at all. Rather,it was our young Greek striker, Apostolis Vellios. No dodgy hamstring, no reason to be remotely interested in the fact that Ive just flown in from Belgium. Seems his English wasn't the main obstacle to our conversation,more my stupidity. In my defense, I hadn't been to bed in 4 days. Don't know if I've mentioned that.
Not Kev Mirallas
It's a decent enough game,with Everton playing some lovely stuff at times but neither side score to go in at the break ahead. Jelavic is looking lively for us, whilst I can only suggest that Spurs are missing Gareth Bale,because they aren't offering a lot. They aren't bad,don't get me wrong,but Everton deserve to be ahead. Half time comes & I bump into a mate, Anthony, who's been following our mis-adventures & is surprised to see me still standing after it all.
Of course, in the second half, the game's a bit different,& Spurs go in front with a wonder goal from Dempsey. It's a great strike & Spurs have come out a lot brighter, so I wouldn't say it was completely unmerited. The game ticks along & just as it's creeping into stoppage time with Everton still losing, up pops Steven Pienaar to bury an equalizer. Goodison erupts & the Jamie acknowledges the celebrations as if to say "I see what you meant earlier" but we're not done yet. There's still maybe 30 seconds of added time to play when we get a throw in. The crowd can sense 1 last attack & are roaring it on. Darron Gibson puts over a cross & 'Big Kev' Vellios, who's since come on, attempts an overhead kick,but fails to connect. The ball, however, runs through to Jelavic who buries it first time. Now the place goes really mental. Goodison park is shaking to its very foundations,& Jamie's caught up in it,hugging people, as I've gone over about 4 seats,cutting my legs to bits. Pure pandemonium & it's brilliant. You can keep your ultras,nothing in football comes close to a last minute winner. In fact, it's only bettered when you were losing a minute earlier
The whistles blown shortly after,& what a way to end the tour. 9 games in 9 days & it all comes to down to practically the last kick. Jamie seems to have enjoyed himself & we head back down to the Park End to pick up the flag. As we're packing it away, a steward comes over to ask us what it's all about. We tell him all about Oscar & you can see the tears in his eyes. He tells us about his own kids,& leaves us to get the flag down with the words "that flag's welcome back here anytime. In fact, when the wee man's well enough, we'll get him over for a game"
Before we leave,I have a last look around Goodison. By now, it's just me & Jamie left inside the place. I've been here hundreds of times before,but it's never looked like this. I'm still buzzing off the win.
Buzzing off the fact that we achieved our initial goal.
Buzzing off the fact that we set out to do something & despite numerous setbacks, did it.
Buzzing off the fact that hundreds of people in England have taken an interest in how wee Oscar Knox is as a direct result of this.
Buzzing off the fact that in about an hour's time, I'll be in bed. My own bed, at that.
No, Goodison has never looked more beautiful
Up the toffees
So, the tour is ended but the flag has carried on. I don't know exactly what kind of response I expected to get from this, but so many people have been in contact via Twitter & Facebook, offering to bring it with them to their own grounds. We have put a lot of work into exploring aspects to keep this going, & the flag has been on tv at 3 games since those 9 days. It is lined up for quite a few more televised games & I suppose people spotting it at various different locations will prick their curiosity, so anything we can do to keep promoting the Oscar Knox Appeal is an absolute must.
You can read more about "Wee" Oscar Knox here. http://oscarknox.blogspot.co.uk/
Please take a few minutes to do so, if you're not already familiar. That is the whole purpose of all of this
We have set up a twitter account of our own, so that you can follow the flag's journey. It will get more active once the games that we've arranged start to flow a bit more (https://twitter.com/oscarsflag)
& you can also follow Oscar's remarkable progress on Twitter (https://twitter.com/Wee_Oscar)
As a result of this continuation, our JustGiving campaign has been extended also, so please donate even just a couple of pounds to help save this wee boy's life (http://www.justgiving.com/7ma7ches7coun7ries7days)
Many thanks again to all of you have who have already been extremely generous. We are currently working on fundraising events to push us beyond our total in 2013. Thanks for following our journey. this blog will be updated regularly again once the next phase has fully kicked in, so keep following Oscar's Flag. Happy New Year
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