The Worst Day of Any Travel. Time to Leave

Sihanoukville Travel Blog

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I had absolutely no intention of drinking whatsoever on this day.  I wanted a fully focused head on the game to watch every kick, pass, shot, save and tackle with intense scrutiny.  I was so nervous and could feel the butterflies building in my stomach right from waking.  Everton had not been in a cup final since 1995 and I really felt this would be our year.  All we had to do was beat a Chelsea side who had lost the Premiership race; were knocked out in the semi-final of the Champions League; and had lost in the League Cup.  It was time for them to lose in the FA Cup final to the 4-1 against underdog. 


I went to the beach in a vain attempt to take my mind off the waiting, but in truth, I was just cacking myself constantly.  Eventually I gave up with the beach and opted to get some food instead and search out a venue where to watch.  I had said I may go to the big screen at Chivas with Rhys and co, but I really didn’t want too much company.  I like to watch football in my own little world and not discuss tactics or the game with every tabloidal fan who basically never played the game.  I was a player (attempted) back in younger years, and that has developed a footballing snobbery for me.  I hate the ‘cut above’ attitude that some people have, but when it comes to the beautiful game, I have a lot of knowledge and only really accept opinions and judgements of those from a similar or better background.  It’s not a very nice way to be, but it is the way it is for me now; I cannot change that.


In the end, we found what we thought would be a quieter bar with a big screen, got some excellent seats, ordered some food, and played the waiting game.  I’ve got to thank Wayne and Steph for their patience with me.  I can’t remember being so nervous with anticipation in years!


Kick-off time finally came around and it started with Everton in possession.  I couldn’t believe it, just a minute it and a long ball found Fellaini to chest down and Louis Saha to turn and shoot and Everton were one up!  The fastest ever FA Cup final goal and we had got it!  What a way to settle my nerves, but the sustained pressure and almost footballing rape of Tony Hibbert at right back led to a deserved equaliser.  1-1 at half-time and Chelsea had looked the better side.  I was screaming for Moyes to sub off Hibbert and thankfully alike-for-like change at half-time saw Jacobsen on for him. 

Everton played much better in the second half and actually took the game to Chelsea, but we lost 2-1.  It could have been far worse as Malouda scored a great goal, but the officials didn’t actually see it cross the line.  Lampard should have had a penalty, and Malouda missed a sitter as well.  It was a fair result, but Saha missed a guilt edged chance to equalise, and that left me ruing the ‘what if’ scenario.  I was totally deflated and inconsolable.  I was wearing an Everton top and shorts and that led to a lot of attention on the streets from people talking football to me and saying hard lines etc.  Of course that was the last thing I wanted to hear, fucking tabloidal fans.  I went to bed in a bad mood.  That’s it; we’re leaving Sihanoukville on a low note.

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