I've loved my first year as PA at Portsmouth FC

I wrote this back in October, having just become the PA at Portsmouth FC. The club didn't start the league campaign terribly well, and some thought it might be something to do with me. On the eve of the last match of a troubled and eventful season - on the pitch for a change - I thought I'd post this...

20 October 2013

I’m not a superstitious person. Unlike ‘her’ in that Ricky Martin song, I don’t care about black cats or voodoo dolls. Nor can I say that I’m unduly bothered by magpies, star signs, cracked pavements or walking under ladders. But as the new stadium announcer at Portsmouth FC, even this vehement sceptic had started to worry that their dodgy early season form might have something to do with me.The travails of the last few years have been well trodden, so let’s not revisit them in much depth. But suffice to say, after Portsmouth’s 2008 FA Cup success and subsequent glamour ties in the UEFA Cup (remember Kanu and Kaboul putting them 2-0 up against A.C. Milan?), they’re now plying their trade in League Two. Which says it all really.

I was there as a punter in the final home game of last season, against Sheffield United. Despite yet another relegation having already been sealed, the atmosphere before the match was one of celebration, as Pompey’s fans had just taken control of the club. The euphoria was only heightened by a scintillating 3-0 victory. It was one of my best-ever football experiences; a fevered atmosphere for a proper match at a rickety old stadium on a sunny day. Perfect.

In the close season, the previous man behind the mic abdicated from the throne (this particular throne is a wobbly stool in a damp, cold PA box, from which one emerges after three hours with a wheezy cough). It was maybe because of my previous experience as a gob on a stick after years on the radio in the South, or my known passion for football, or both, or neither that he recommended me to the club to take his place. Now, I could have the first person he suggested or the twentieth; frankly I couldn’t care which, because I was going to be the P.A. at a professional football club! I was to be paid to watch football every fortnight; something I’d always dreamed of. I phoned the man at Pompey to say yes, I’d do it, and envisaged more days like that 3-0 against Sheffield United. He told me – understandably – that because I was only one man’s recommendation, and for all he knew I could be rubbish at it, that he’d give me a couple of months and we’d see how we’d go. Well, I’m still there, so I must be doing ok. Either that, or I’m cheaper than anyone else.

In my first match behind the mic, Pompey suffered a 2-0 reverse at the hands of Rayo Vallecano in their final pre-season game. Hardly a disgrace against a Spanish top-flight team, and if a La Liga team can only put two past them, just think what Pompey could do to the likes of Fleetwood, Accrington and Burton. More importantly from my point of view, I think I pulled it off. Despite some tricky Spanish names to pronounce, a minute’s silence to negotiate in the wake of the Spanish train crash and 14 substitutes to keep up with (more tricky names), I got through it.Six days later, the league kicked off. Portsmouth fans (and Oxford too) did themselves proud, posting a record attendance for a League Two match; 18,181 of them crammed into Fratton Park. The place was creaking with optimism, accompanied by a buzz that suggested that the team should – and would – sweep away all in front of them. In the box, I was nervous. With nearly quadruple the number of supporters from the previous game, I felt the stakes were high for me too, and I had to get it right. At twenty to two, after the ref had finished his inspection, my pre-match routine kicked in. Get the music on, tell the crowd to watch for flying balls, ask them not to smoke... that sort of thing. An hour later, the atmosphere was really crackling, and my chief concern was having Mike Oldfield’s Portsmouth ready to play as the players came out. As the players shook hands, I read out the teams. Would I get through all the names in time? Would the players have to wait for me to finish before they could start playing. By now, the crowd noise was quite something; could they even hear my announcements. Or were the levels too high?

Then kick off. I could relax, but the fans had worked themselves into a frenzy. Now the players just had to live up to it.

Things were looking good after 25 minutes, when I got to announce Portsmouth’s first goal. A powerful header from Patrick Agyemang off a cross by Andy Barcham. The place erupted, and the Pompey Chimes rang out. But then it all turned sour; the ground was stunned into disbelief, as Oxford scored four goals without reply. The winning start that we hadn’t just hoped for, but expected, had failed to materialise, and emphatically so. For all Oxford’s pace and inventiveness, Pompey looked flat and devoid of ideas and threat. It wasn’t meant to be like this. The bubbles were burst, and reality bit back.

As an announcer, it’s not so much fun having to announce goalscorers in monotone, as required when an opposition player hits the net; a shame, since I’ve had to rather do a lot of it. After all those goals for Oxford, I endured a 2-0 defeat at home to Chesterfield, and a 1-0 home defeat to Fleetwood. The only Portsmouth home match I wasn’t able to make was the one against Morecambe. Naturally, they won that one handsomely; 3-0. It was that win in my absence that led to my Portsmouth supporting friends asking me not to go back. And they meant it; hence this superstition-sceptic was starting to get a complex.

So what relief, then, as Pompey have subsequently sparkled at home to high-flying Rochdale, against whom they scored thrice, and took three points off a plucky Bury side. The fans have been happy again, and I’ve been able to get a bit excited too, not least because I could finally absolve myself any blame that some (including myself) had been nonsensically attributed to me. Let me tell you, League Two the Pompey way is an experience. With full houses and points finally on the board, who knows how this story will go.

1 May 2014

Well, now we know how it went. Three managers, more than just a flirtation with relegation, baying crowds, and then - at the last - four wins in a row to take the club into comfortable mid-table.This weekend, it’s the last game of the season. The pressure’s off, and Pompey can play with freedom at home to Plymouth. Win it and –unbelievably, given where they were a few weeks ago - Portsmouth could finish 9th. Dangerous, that – the fans will be demanding to win the title next season.