Nedved Misses Match Voluntarily - Shock!

Bath City played a scoreless draw with Bromley on Saturday, and I was not there to see it. It was the first home match of the season I have missed (except for one pre-season friendly). You might wonder what possibly could have kept me away from Twerton Park at such a critical juncture in City's season. In a word: sweeties.

Not for me, of course. No, my attendance at the Bromley match was really scotched because of its coincidence with the modern sugar-rush festival known as Halloween. Mrs Nedved had, very inconveniently, made arrangements for the whole family to go to a neighbourhood Halloween party that began at 4pm. To be honest, though, I didn't really want to miss seeing my kids put on their costumes, or holding their hands as they went trick-or-treating through the neighbourhood. Besides, I will be missing the town Bonfire Night festivities when I take a fifteen hour day-return trip to Grimsby on Saturday.

Having, more or less, voluntarily excused myself from attending the match was a very odd feeling. Although I deny it, Mrs Nedved claims that if I do not attend a match I am very irritable and cranky (I really do deny it, but the idea that 'you might as well go because if you don't you will just be insufferable' is a useful concept). For the first Saturday in weeks I was not counting down the hours until 3pm. When the hour did arrive I found myself unprepared. I fired up the computer in a hurry.

And....not much happened. Sean, the ever-reliable relayer of game updates, had taken the day off to go watch Leeds United. I was hardly in a position to object, but it made the already disjointed matchday experience even more disjointed. Fortunately there were several other people online who were getting texts from fans at the ground. Between them and the Non-League Vidiprinter I was able to at least follow the score (although without much detail).

And....still not much happened. Like I said, it was a scoreless draw. When you aren't getting much more than scoring updates a match with no score is simultaneously nerve-wracking and tedious. The only real news that came through was that the pitch was slippery from rain, Edwards was having a rare poor game, the attendance was 585, and that no goals were scored in the first half.

Before the second half could kick off I was out of the house and down the street at the Halloween party. Although it is an ability I am not very keen on developing, leaving my computer with a match hanging in the balance could be considered a personal triumph. I had also made a decision not be a football bore at the party. I was not going to talk about Bath City all evening. Childcare, politics, cooking -- all these would be fine. I do have more facets to my personality than the ability to discuss recent events at Twerton Park.

I realised, though, that it is perhaps too late to avoid being tagged as a football bore. I might as well admit to myslef that I am an addict. Everyone else seems to have come to this conclusion, anyway. As soon as I was standing among my fellow dads in my neighbour's kitchen people starting asking me about Bath City. It's what I'm known for. 'What's happening with Bath City?' 'How is the season going so far?' 'Did you go to a match today (it's 4pm, how could I have gone to a match today?!!)?' Surrounded as I was by a group of well-meaning enablers of my addiction, I didn't hold out long. Besides, we didn't want to talk about childcare, politics or cooking. We were men with families who work full time. What were we realistically going to talk about besides sport? The more I talked about Bath City, however, the more keenly I felt the lack of information about the ongoing match.

At 4:30 Mrs Nedved approached me. 'I wish we had the camera to take some pictures of the kids all dressed up,' she said.

At this point I had, if I may be immodest, a moment of pure genius. 'I can pop back home and get it for you if you like?' I said.

Mrs Nedved smiled and thanked me for being so helpful. I left our neighbour's house in the rare position of being able to find out the final score of the match and collect brownie points at the same time! Because Mrs Nedved could not remember where the camera was I could plausibly be away from the party for fifteen to twenty minutes while I 'looked' for the camera (I knew exactly where it was, of course). I reached the house with ten minutes remaining in the match. And....nothing much had happened. It was a 0-0 draw, remember?

Knowing that the final score was definitely 0-0, however, is infinitely more satisfying than not knowing. After fifteen minutes online I quickly got the camera from where I had left it after the Totton match, and went back to the party. I was greeted by a grateful Mrs Nedved. I have no shame.

The trick-or-treating was a roaring success. The fact that Big Nedved Junior does not like dressing up, and that Little Nedved Junior's costume had largely unravelled during the party did not stop either of them from taking a colossal haul of sugary goodness. We took lots of pictures and eventually returned home with two children wired on excitement and empty calories. After a much later than normal bedtime they were both eventually packed off to bed, and I finally got a chance to get some detail about the City match.

Despite the lack of scoring, those attending reported that it had been an exciting affair (you can read all about it here). City in fact came close to winning he match in the closing moments and were only denied by two excellent stops by the Bromley keeper. Strangely, hearing this made me feel slightly disconcerted. I had sort of congratulated myself on choosing a boring match to miss. Perrott played well, evidently, and Stuart Douglas is making progress on returning to match fitness. I felt slightly put out that players were having important matches without me.

I had not missed a significant event in my children's life, but I had missed a not insignificant moment in the Bath City season. It was a decision I would make again a hundred times over, but as I reflected on the day I realised that being a football supporter is not really about being entertained. The true fan, and here I mean the hardened addicts like myself as opposed to the casual observer, wants to see the story of each season unfold before them. We want to see our heroes progress, or, if must be, fail. If a match is uneventful we want to see it be uneventful. When it is glorious we will feel it more keenly for having having endured the drudgery that preceded it. If a scoreless match turns out to be unexpectedly entertaining I want to know that from first hand experience rather than taking the word of another.

I consoled myself with a toffee from the kids' stash. I know that I cannot attend every match. I know that there are things in life much more important than football. And I can stop any time I like. Really.