The Lads nipped down to the South coast to renew rivalry with Pompey, and ...well, quite simply rubber-stamped the best start to a season by any team anywhere in the country and probably the world. Almost, anyway, as Luke evened up the OGs in added time, but we were three ahead by then. A Pompey OG on the half hour was no more than we deserved, and we added to that with Browne's knock in and Mundle's killer blow before the hour was up.
There was more than a hint of autumn in the air as I headed for the bus - which turned up, meaning no repeat of that part of my disastrous last trip to Fratton. I even managed a seat on the train, spending part of it next to a Sheff Wed fan en route to Millwall. We didn't talk football, but I did fill my cap with Lucozade. Silly boy - it did nowt to aid the recovery of my hair.
The usual singing on the tube across London for some reason included the Djibril Cisse ditty, which baffled me a bit. Mebbe it was the heat, but we had time to Google our latest signings as well as having a laugh with the lad on the train carrying a bouquet "for the bride's mother." Waheyy, we cheered.
After a couple of refreshments, I was into the ground early, quite literally bumping into Embo's kid brother, and marvelling at what a lick of paint and some new kiosks can do. Nice one, Pompey.
Patterson
Hume O'Nien Ballard Cirkin
Browne Rigg
Roberts Jobe Mundle
Mayenda
...and a bench of Moore, Rusyn, Isidor, Hjelde, Poveda, Watson, Tuiterov, Crompton, and Jones. Interesting bench, and unlike last time, it wasn't hossing it down, I hadn't lost my ticket, and my innards were behaving themselves. All good omens.
After meeting up with Rob, Winks, and eventually Kev, we watched our bonny Lads line up in the new away kit and clapped for Sven, Sven, Sven before attacking the far end in front of the fullest I've seen Fratton.
They kicked off, we pressed them in their half and it was only a matter of time before we went ahead. Ballard played as if he'd never been away, Rigg played like he'd been doing it for a decade, Browne was quietly effective, and Mundle was given space to be as mad as he liked. Add that to Mayenda's beef and there was only going to be one winner. It arrived in rather strange circumstances when a cross from our right looked to have gone too far, but for some reason their man knocked it inside his own far post.
Jammy? Yes. Deserved? Absolutely.
With Luke and Big Dan mopping up everything in the middle, there was ample opportunity for Cirkin and Huuuuume to belt forward, and augment those forays with a couple of trademark thunderous challenges. Jobe and Rigg were pulling strings like mad puppeteers, but it was Browne whose simple but effective game allowed them to do so. He picked up what Luke and Big Dan laid in front of him, and picked out the joyous Mundle at every opportunity. There's nowt young Romaine likes more than a fullback to run at, and run at his hapless marker he did, with Mayenda dragging the home defence all awwa the shop.
Quite how we got to half time only one goal to the good was something the home fans were celebrating as we scratched our heads and tried not to get too greedy, but we just couldn't help remembering Summerbee's happy debut all those years ago.
There was a bit of added time, and many happy faces in the sold out away end at the break.
No changes for the second half, and we continued where we'd left off. If Rigg, Browne, and Jobe did their job, there'd be less for Luke and Dan to do, so they continued. We were only five or so in when Mayenda got amongst their central defenders yet again and the ball sat up nicely for Browne to poke home.
Bloody marvellous!
If the home crowd had been a bit down before that, they were positively subterranean after it, and the third was only a matter of time. More patience from Browne, more energy from Rigg, more twazzling by Roberts, more smooth operating from Jobe, and then Luke put in a couple of challenges that would have had Bally applauding. Rigg picked out Mundle, and like a chav with an air rifle, he set his sights and killed the game.
Whoo-hoo, and still over half an hour to go. By this time we were strolling around the middle of the field with Jobe looking like a better version of their young'un and Roberts making his marker(s) look like they'd just started a Sunday morning game. With just under 20 to go, Reg made his first changes, as on came Isidor and Poveda for Mundle and Roberts - job just about done. A couple of corners followed, with Dan the Man creating havoc then Rigg having a shot blocked
Mayenda then made way for Rusyn as we cleverly used fresh legs to frustrate the home side further, and a Browne free kick gave Cirkin the chance to turn and shoot, but it was closer to me than the goal. Four added minutes were announced, Luke managed to do what no opponent had done by heading past Patto, then the ref put the home fans out of their misery and I sprinted, as only a man of my advanced years can sprint, to Fratton station trying not to laugh.
Top of the league? Why aye. Man of the Match? Again, not a dodgy performance out there, but I'll give it to Rigg just ahead of Jobe and Mundle, spurred on by Browne's simplicity. Happy days.
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