Normally for us, going to a Shots match at the Rec means donning jeans and trainers, a big thick coat, setting off at around midday for the 2 hour journey from Cambs, parking a mile or so from the ground, coughing up my hard earned cash to admit the boys (Matt 11 and Dean 8) and I to The Rec, purchasing a match programme and climbing the steps to Mecca, well our Mecca anyway!
Just after obtaining the programme and before the climb, superstition dictates that we (all) must walk by the pathway of bricks and wink at the one (top row, far right) which reads “Cambs Shot – 2004”. It's an odd superstition, given that we have seen Shots achieve all possible results (win, lose and draw) after doing this, but I couldn't even begin to think of not winking –it's just one of those things!
Three bacon cheeseburgers and the best part of £45 later, we usually take our seats in the North Stand a few rows behind the away dugout (don't know why – it's just become habit) and enjoy the build up before standing to cheer our beloved Shots – hopefully – onto another victory.
But this was not a “normal” day for us, nor Shots as it happened. It was FA Cup 2nd round day, the BBC cameras were at The Rec, twice as many people as usual would be attending and we, yes WE, were special guests of the club. As representatives of the Stray Shots, we were the Match Ball Sponsors!
The omens were good when my youngest, Dean, scored twice for his team - on the day that he was also given the Captain's armband – before having to leave after the 2nd period of his minisoccer match so that we could make it to The Rec in time. Now I've heard of players being robbed of their chance to net a hat-trick before, but not in these circumstances-sorry Deano!
Fortunately, the A1, M25 and M3 played ball and we made it to The Rec by 12.45. Thanks to our pre-planning (a damp cloth, towel and change of clothes in the car) young Deano had made a miraculous transformation from muddy kneed a footballer into an angelic looking 8 year old in shirt and trousers, complimenting his elder brother Matt, who wore similar. The boys and their Father drove proudly through the gates of the club to park behind the Eastbank, attracting a few stares from supporters on foot, who were already beginning to enter the Rec more than an hour before kick-off. Who were we, they perhaps wondered to themselves?
The Rec looked different today. BBC vehicles and cameras all around it and parking spaces were at a premium. The boys took a quick peak through the tops steps of the Eastbank. The pitch appeared in better condition than it ought to have been, after the recent battering it had taken, from both the weather and the number of games played on it.
Eventually we found ourselves deep in the annals of Aldershot Town Football Club. In truth, we had been there once before, but not on an occasion like this. Our previous visit had been for a run-of-the-mill league game last season – yes last season – a season long since banished to the darkest corridors of my memory and put away in a file marked – FQ for Forget Quickly!
We were almost the last to arrive in what was a packed Directors Lounge.
All places for dinner had been sold for this game and in addition to everybody sat around the four larges tables, the bar area was also packed.
One of the tables was for the Basingstoke Directors and fair play to them – every single person in their party sat down to eat with smart suits on and a Basingstoke scarf around their neck! A formal meal it may have been, but it was clear that at no point did they forget what the day was really about! They were a credit to their club on the day – partisan but always sporting. After exchanging some light-hearted banter with their owner throughout the game, we exchanged a hug and a handshake at the final whistle.
The next hour passed in no time at all. Much of it was spent trying to chew the meat which was the centre piece of our main course – tough as old boots it was – almost as hard to penetrate as the Basingstoke defence would be later! The boys battled bravely on with the meat, but it's fair to say we enjoyed the starter (pate & toast) and cheese & biscuits after, much more.
There was a brief moment of excitement amongst us when one of the boys spotted our picture in the match programme (taken from the previous season) but this was broken when a quick glance at the clock revealed that it was approaching kick-off time. Incredibly, just five minutes before the match was due to start, everybody was still in the room. Quickly I fetched the boys coats from the ever increasing pile that lay next to the coat stand and we scurried down and out to the Directors Box, just in time to see the two teams emerge.
What a sight – 4500 packed in The Rec – does it really still hold 7500? It looked pretty near full to us and it was difficult to imagine the place with 21,000 in! (Or whatever the exact number was for the Carlisle match all those years ago). The Eastbank was decked out in full colour by now. Flagboy and his crew were proudly waving the huge RBA flags that we had now got used to seeing on special occasions such as this. The noise that always comes booming out of the Eastbank appeared to be accompanied today by some sections of the North Stand. Quite rare that, but it's something I wish would happen more often, given that we sit there! In the Directors box etiquette dictated, I suppose, that we should not join in, but I'm sure we managed to gently clap along at least, despite feeling a tad awkward about it.
Where to watch the game at The Rec has long been an unsettled issue for me. I love the atmosphere in the Eastbank, but hate the view. I do not enjoy watching matches from behind the goals – I think you get a really poor perspective. Sometimes you can't tell why a pass did not reach its man or how someone failed to get on the end of a cross. Penalties at the High Street end do not always look like penalties and good tackles look like they should have been penalties (when they are on Shots players only of course!) and you cannot always appreciate some of the better moves.
Onto the match itself now………well, enough said about that, as my thoughts have already been posted in great detail on the Shotsweb message board. All I will say is that when you are as passionate about your team as I am, you will not accept a lack of passion from the team itself, especially on such a big occasion and one which offered such opportunity. I do understand the affects of pressure and nerves and I also appreciate when players are just not applying themselves. That has nothing to do with pressure or nerves. Enough said.
Suffice to say that when the final whistle went, I felt a mixture of frustration, relief, anti-climax, despair and the one feeling that all die-hard fans never lose – hope! Hope that we would play better in the replay – surely we could not play any worse. Hope that the third round draw would provide inspiration for the replay – no luck there then!
For once, we were all in agreement with the Man of the Match choice. Barney had stood out amongst the mediocrity of our team on the day and had provided the cross which Johnny Grant met with a flicked header to earn Shots a replay. I exchanged a few words with our skipper along the lines that he must be relieved that we had lived to fight another day and he nodded in agreement as we posed for the picture below. 
The boys enjoyed their day. They love to see Shots win, but don't feel the pain of defeat (or a limp draw as this was) like their Father does and besides, today had been special, with lots of other distractions. To them, I guess the match itself was more of a sub-plot. I often watch their reaction to goals, defeats, wins, good matches, poor matches etc and wonder what affect they have on them. Do they just come to games because it's what Dad does, or have they now got the bug? Will they perhaps be interested enough to make their own way to the Rec one day, or even take me along in my old age?
As I digested the match back in the Directors Lounge afterwards, with a drink in one hand and an eye on the latest scores flashing up on the TV, I noticed Matt and Dean peering out of the window, engrossed with watching the BBC camera crews being brought back down to earth from their lofty position, high on cranes above the North stand. The cameraman's work done and the early evening sun setting, not just over Aldershot, but perhaps on our FA Cup dreams as well?
Our sincere thanks go to the Stray Shots organisation for the wonderful treat that this day was, for myself, Matt, Dean. I sincerely hope that Strays throughout the UK and around the world will find some interest in this article and who knows, one of you may be lucky enough to have this opportunity in the future.
Rob Worrall (Cambs Shot)
With thanks to Ian Morseman for providing the photograph.