I had no thirst for the play offs in the aftermath of the normal season. I’d told someone after Accrington “the play offs can suck a fart out of my arse.” but of course as soon as they came round I was on board. I didn’t try and get one of the tickets for Chesterfield as we only had a few and I didn’t deserve one but I was there for the home game and it was a magnificent night. Well worth cancelling my birthday bash for.

So onto the final and in the lead up to it I wasn’t excited or nervous. Sounds strange but I thought we’d get dicked in the semis so the final seemed like a free hit.

I barely slept the night before and wasn’t overjoyed when the alarm sounded at 5am but I was up and at it straight away. Kettle on and I then went for a chat with my smart speaker. “Alexa….good morning.” She responded with a good morning and a fact about the day that I’d forgotten before the kettle had boiled. I followed up, “Alexa…we’re going to Wembley.” “Sorry, I can’t help you with that.” Thankfully I’d already had all the help I needed with Tim sorting my ticket out.

Breakfast was needed and the plan was MaccyD’s. The one on Park Street doesn’t open until 7am which is a bit poo so I headed to the 24 hour one by Tesco. The outer door glided open but then the inner one was locked. No order numbers on the screen inside. Clearly not open but cracking banter peeps leaving that one door unlocked.

I figured if I power walked, I could make the earlier train and grab snackage at New Street and I just about made it, giving Gary. Sean and Lauren only the briefest of greetings at the railway station.

The train was delayed by a minute so I made it and headed to Gregg’s in Brum which was empty. A very rude man cut me up on the way in but fair play he seemed in a hurry and did apologise inside. I grabbed a baguette and told the lady serving that she’d saved my life. Bit dramatic even by my standards yeah, but she gave me a nice smile.

Everyone I was meeting were already on the train and off we set. I was a bit puzzled as we pulled into Rugby as people started getting up. Sean explained that this train made lots of stops en route but we could change to another one by the same company that only stopped once. I fear change, even on trains but followed. The new train had a very shouty on board announcer which I didn’t need at that time in the morning, but did wonder if we could entice her to Wembley to help roar the lads on.

Anyway Sean was right and we were in London half an hour earlier than I expected. We marched off to a pub. A couple of lads ran in front of two red London buses as they were pulling away at lights. I stayed put. I had no intention of getting hit by one of those. There would be only one winner. I wasn’t quite so cautious on Euston Road though. The Monopoly geek in me had kicked in and I was excited at seeing the street sign and got a beep as I crossed. The rent for landing on said street in Monopoly is £6. No idea what it is for getting run over and thankfully I didn’t need to find out.

At the pub I wasn’t drinking booze so asked for Pepsi Max, which he didn’t have but gave me regular diet and didn’t charge me for it. Top bloke. I tried to hide this drink by sticking it on a ledge at the side ofd the bar and then trying to shield it with my ample body. It took Mase all of 2 seconds to spot it.

I sat with Chris and we spoke outfits. I said I’d considered a Walsall top but in the end opted for the same outfit as the Chesterfield second leg due to superstition. I say the same outfit, but I couldn’t remember which socks I’d had on but I had a 1 in 18 chance of getting it right. Chris had also done the same but he’d remembered everything.

It was a pleasant couple of hours in here, I’d got a second free Pepsi but it was Wembley time. I’m a massive fan of the London Underground and we were soon at Great Portland Street station. There was some banter as I walked through the barrier with the lad saying my card had came up as declined. He had me for s split second, before the realisation of it being payday weekend kicked in. I’m like a kid on the underground. A huge smile always breaks out on me as we hit the platform. We were soon on a Metropolitan Line (Magenta in colour if it comes up in a quiz) train heading to Wembley Park. (Sorry Del if you’re reading. His team Southend is at Wembley today in the Conference play off final but said station – the closest to the stadium is closed on this occasion.)

Our group broke up a bit on arrival and soon it was just myself, Mase, Panda and his sister Alison. We walked down the steps and the first song we heard playing was S Club 7 “S Club Party”. Alison and I joined in loudly and made a pact that we’d have a Saddlers Club party should we win.

We headed to The Blue Check. It was rammed but service was quick. We moved outside where more of our group joined us and also Swill who was making a proper weekend of it with a 2 night stay. He’d been out mooching the night before and advised of this place. It was epic to be fair with a great atmosphere.

It was soon toilet time and there was a small queue. I thought there was another room and the queue was coming from there too. Then I realised it was a mirror. I felt a bit dumb until the bloke in front turned round and said “bloody hell, I thought there was another queue but it’s a mirror.” The toilet was, erm cosy. Just a small trough and no cubicle. “Good job I don’t need a dump” I announced loudly. It got a small laugh. I’ll take that. Behind me a phone rang which was answered with the line “I’ll call you back, I’m in the pisser.” This got a big laugh which I joined in with.

I was now on the beer and the first pint went down in minutes. Which wasn’t the plan really as it was £7 a pint. Fair play to Mase, he got his card out and said “go and get me and you a pint. Have the pint for your birthday.” I didn’t need telling twice.

Shortly afterwards I got a message from Josh, who was outside the ground in the fan zone saying that he was going inside in 20 minutes. He had my ticket. Shit. I had a pint to finish, explanations for departure to give, goodbyes to say and another toilet. Plus I didn’t really know where I was. This was going to be another Challenge Anneka style mission. In my haste, when saying bye to Mase I accidentally headbutted him, which must have come sharp with this mossiv bonce of mine. Sorry Mase. (I checked the day after and he’s fine).

As you know from previous editions, I’m not one for asking for help but this time I had no choice. The bouncer outside was sound though and he told me how to get to half way down Wembley way. I only had to ask one more direction and I was in between the blue and green zone where Josh had said he was. Successful mission.

We had to go through entrance C which I liked. C is my favourite letter. So many good words begin with it like chicken, curry, cheese, chips and I’m sure there’s a couple more corkers. Josh, Mrs Josh (Lyndsey) and their son George went straight up into the stand. After another quick photo opportunity.

I used the loo and it was cubicles only. A bloke clearly wasn’t happy with this stopping to say “no urinals. This place is fucked in the nut.” Never heard that expression before but I shall be plagiarising it. I opted not to drink and instead just worked the concourse going pretty much the whole length of it seeing loads of people I know, and some I don’t that say they read the blog. I also bumped into a bloke that’s owed me £5 since 1999, but I’ve only seen once since. I didn’t ask for it.

After an hour it was time to head upstairs (after using another loo which did have a urinal trough). I knew I was in block 113. But my ticket said row 40, seat 40, £40. 40-40-40. Sounds like my measurements being announced if I was taking part in Miss World. Piece of piss to find my seat and I was with Josh and family, along with Laura, Pezza, his dad and Tim. I paid Tim for the ticket and he waived the booking fee.Top man and thanks.

Because the match was kicking off at 3.01 I made the National Anthem which I sang with gusto. On Walsall’s previous (and only) trip to Wembley I’d spent about 70 minutes downstairs in the concourse chatting and watching day trippers occasionally marching or being thrown out. This time though I wanted to see some action.

We were shit first half. Didn’t have a shot and they took the lead just before half time. First time since OPTA stats were introduced over a decade ago that a team hasn’t had a shot during the first half of a play off final. We don’t have live entertainment during half times of finals over here but at this juncture it would have been apt if Remember Monday had walked out and done a rendition of “What The Hell Just Happened?”

Laura went to get the beers and I turned it down. Upon getting back down to the concourse she somehow had about 4 extra pints and I was forced to have one but really did turn down a second one.

I checked my phone, and Craig had messaged me late during the half saying “the Portugal v Mexico match (in The Simpsons) was better than this.” It was hard to argue to be fair and if it wasn’t I wouldn’t have done as I had a pint to drink.

Second half wasn’t much better (I saw the last half an hour) and we lost. From being miles clear in January we were now stuck in League 2 for another season. It hurt. It hurt bad.

I was soon on The Metropolitan Line and back at Euston in no time. I bumped into Mark Jones who is one of my longest standing Walsall FC friends having met him in 1989. along with his sons, their girlfriends and his brother Andy and son Sam, so I joined up with them. There was time to grab a £4.25 egg mayonnaise sandwich which was just ever so slightly not worth that amount.

The train journey home was arduous. However there was the usual Walsall FC gallows humour along with a inquest of the season. I never drink on trains but my God I needed a beer after that shit show, so accepted a can which turned into two. Well I don’t like odd numbers. Sam was on excellent form, with a few tirades but also explaining what he’d give up for League One football. He’s never seen a Walsall FC promotion, the last one was in 2007 so loads haven’t. I’m running out of promotion years to use as one of my passwords at work.

There was a 20 minute stop at Northampton that we could have done without. Fucked in the nut that was. We got moving again and I had to use the loo. Unbeknown to me the lock wasn’t working, and the door slowly opened like it was revealing a star prize on a game show. What it did reveal though was a lass. Standing to the side, I assume trying to get the door to lock. She closed the door and I stood guard outside. I apologised again when she left. She did leave the seat up though which puzzled me.

We eventually got back to New Street and I rejoined my travel down companions for the journey back to Walsall. Upon leaving the train and walking through the lobby there was a bloke next to me, carrying his son in his arms who must have been only 4 or 5. The kid suddenly sang “Walsall FC” as the opening of the “from the Black Country chant” and it really got me. Proper lifted my spirits.

It was raining as I left the railway station. I had no umbrella and no coat like the bloke in Heart’s “All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You” song. Although lead singer Ann Wilson was not driving by. Bloody pedestrianisation scheme. This didn’t bother me. My parade had already been rained on. I trudged up to the Walsall Arms. Late night in here normally involves shots but as my team hadn’t had any of note that day then I wasn’t having any either. I had a pint and headed home.

Superb day with great people again, just the match to ruin it like so many times. We didn’t even have the satisfaction of a goal being ruled out by VAR to cry foul over. Typically, as there were no top flight games on, we had to quote Jimmy Lennon Junior “millions watching around the world” and we served up that horror show. I only saw one half and half scarf though which I’d have taken beforehand. Questions need to be asked though as to how we fucked this season up. Glad the season is over. Roll on August. See you all then.