Up the other end Kelty Hearts who I assume are named in tribute to yer actual Hearts look a bit leaner and fitter. A Montrose player shanks his warm up shot. "fuckin hell, pish!!!" he castigates himself. The bloke behind me is incandescent with the manager "why the fuck has he picked Watson?'
The fella in front of me has treated himself to two pies, one in each hand.. He spends the first half in silence eating them in small bites with a metronomic rhythm. It's quite hypnotic.
---
The no 9 who had the warm up melt down misses a chance. He lets fly more self loathing. The fella behind me is a fair judge of the game. "He's had stinker, but aye, Watson has been the best player"
The most entertaining aspect of this period is the attempt by one fella to get the crowd going by chanting a non stop stream of songs, which bleed one into the other, sometimes switching half way through. Some praise the players, some declare hatred for Arbroath, but my favourite is "we hate 0-0, we hate 0-0" repeated for ages and followed up by "give us one! Just one!" At no point does anyone even half consider joining in with him. He is undeterred.
There's a gaggle of kids in the far corner. They have a drum. I'm not sure any of them know how to play it. Samba football it is not. Samba drumming it is neither. For no discernable reason the stewards take umbridge with the kids. "Leave thae kids alone aye!" bellows the otherwise silent man in front of me.
0-0
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This half is marked by a sense of injustice. The big angry forward has turn his rage outward now, berating the linesman with a force and persistence that quite endears him to me. Montrose then score from a corner but it's ruled out for a push on the keeper and there's howls of injustice.
Again, after a bright start, Kelty come into it and soon they're ahead. No one stands out for them, but they're compact and organised and can move the ball quite quickly. The first goal comes by driving at the Montrose defence but rather than any great skill or team play, it's a calamitous series of misskicks, airkicls and Montrose defenders falling over that presents them the ball on a plate.
There's an instant response. A few subs including sadly, the excellent (and 37 year old) Watson leaving the pitch. I'm glad that in 2023 there's still room for a comb over. Montrose have by far their best move, spinning it down the left, exchanging passes and cutting it to the edge of the box for the angry striker who wriggles some space and crashes an excellent effort against the post. More anger.
There's an inevitability to the second goal which is swept home by Biabi. The ultras troop out singing 'we're going down' which given as it's the first noise from the crowd other than "fucking hell ref" kind of sums up the fatalism that must be bred by watching windswept football far from the glamour infused elite. The softly spoken fella to the side of me is less expressive but mutters something rueful about Montrose looking 'mair like Dad's bloody Army than a fitba team'
The remaining minutes pass with what I think is the Kelty directors (a tight knit group at the centre of the main stand) celebrating wildly when ever there's a throw in. I think they're playing the outstanding game of 'pass the money down the row whenever the ball goes out of play and whoever holds it at the final whistle wins" - a game that is deeply underated and possibly better than football itself.
I'm off. Into the town. It's grey.
It often is.
Normal service will resume shortly.
Onward!
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