All Aboard the Team Bus

Tomorrow is a day off work for me. Or at least a day off from the job that provides me with a wage slip once a month. The job that pays the mortgage, and the job that keeps the cat in food.

Those that know me, I assume my reader from Brazil stumbled across this blog by accident, will tell you that my other job is Programme and Website editor for Partick Thistle Football Club. It’s something of a misnomer though to label it a job. Writing about the football team that I love is a pleasure, and while there is no pay packet from Partick Thistle come the end of the month there are perks that come with the position that money simply can’t buy.  

One of which is being allowed to travel to away games on the team bus.

(some people, not me , getting off the Thistle team bus)

There was a time when I dreamed that I would climb aboard the Partick Thistle team bus, sign saying ‘Players and Officials’ displayed in the window, with boots and shin pads in my bag rather than the laptop that I do. Given that it is unlikely that Jackie McNamarawill look my way and think that a fat 43 year old is a solution to Thistle’s problems and shout “right Hosie, you are starting up front today”, travelling with the team is the closest I’m ever going to come to being a professional footballer.

I may be 40 plus with responsibilities and bills to pay, but part of me has never grown up, I doubt us men ever truly do. As such travelling with my heroes remains a real thrill. A chance, through them, to vicariously live out my dream of being a footballer for Partick Thistle.

I first travelled on the team bus, a suited and booted nervous individual, on December 27^th 1999 for a trip to Arbroath. The Thistle side of that season wasn’t the greatest ever to represent the Club and I remember the players rushing through their pre-match meal so they could catch part of the old firm game on TV before heading to the game. There were some players that displayed more passion in the hotel watching that game than they did on the park later in the day.

It might not have been the most auspicious of starts to my time on the team bus but there have been some fantastic memories since.

There were goose bumps on my arms when,  after the Second Division title had been clinched at Forfar, the Thistle fans came onto the street to clap the team bus as it pulled away. Okay, I know they weren’t clapping me. It’s back to that vicarious dream again. 

The journey back from Peterhead after the play-off victory was an experience that will stay with me for life. As will the sight of Scott McLean eating a raw pot noddle on a journey back from Stranraer or an, unnamed former player, throwing a strop when the dvd of ‘Sulmdog Millionaire’ froze just at the crucial stage of the film.

This brings me to the main downside of travelling with the team.  Something far worse even than the smell that can emanate from the more flatulent members of the squad, namely, the almost universal appalling taste in films that footballers have.  The more puerile the humour or louder the explosions the more they will love it. If I’ve seen ‘Dumb or Dumber’ or ‘The Wedding Crashes’ once then I’ve seen them dozens  of times. Gerry Britton provided ‘The Life of Brian’ once but you expect that kind of thing from the cerebral King of Spain.

I can, however, live with the poor choice of in-bus movie. Being allowed close to the team is a thrill and a privilege, but all the same spare a little thought for me tomorrow travelling through the night from Dingwall trying to grab even a few winks of sleep. A Jags victory would help make the miles go that bit quicker.