Exactly one month has passed since Boston United played Curzon Ashton away in the Vanarama National League North, which must’ve been “just one of the matches” for many, if not all in attendance but one Croat, who found his soul amongst the Boston United fans. This is my story.
The year is 2039. Boston United just finished eight in their debutant Premier League season, one point off seventh, which is occupied by Brentford. The club is rich and due to move into the 22,625 capacity Paul Bastock Stadium on 20/6/2042, fittingly named after one of Boston United’s greatest legends, the world record holder Paul Bastock, who ramped an incredible 1,281 appearances in his goalkeeping career spanning from 1989 up until 2017.
I know what you’re thinking.
“What on earth is this guy on about?!”.
And you’re right.
What am I on about?!
Let me tell you a story.
My first memory of kicking a football was in the post-war wounded Croatian town of Vinkovci, with my grandmother, who – just like my grandfather and 90% of all Croatian population – loved football or at least tolerated it being on the TV.
It was the summer of 1998., when Croatia, led by the legendary Davor Šuker, finished third in 1998 FIFA World Cup, held in France. To say this was an achievement of epic proportions would be underestimating it, especially when you consider Croatia is a small country that had a population of 4,5 million at the time.
If you were a part of the 10%… you no longer were.
Hook, line and sinker
Fast forward a year later, and my older brothers took over the reigns of turning the then five year old me into a football fan. Coverage of the top five leagues in Europe was scarce in Croatia, so we all looked forward to Mondays, when the Croatian Radio Television (HRT – think of it as an equivalent to BBC) aired Petica (Five), a football show which had highlights of the top 5 European leagues matches.
“Watching” the matches live usually meant turning on the teletext and waiting for the score to change… But it was fun. I saw how much it meant to my brothers and thought, “yeah, this must be right!”.
Hook, line and sinker.
Panini stickers, FIFA 2002 and kicking a plastic bottle instead of a football during primary school recess
A few years have passed and before you knew it, 2002 Fifa World Cup, held in South Korea and Japan, had come knocking on the doors. It was the first World Cup I clearly remember. After all, how could you forget your first Panini stickers, that Ronaldinho freekick against England and of course, the legendary Ronaldo Nazario haircut?
For the children in my primary school and my friends, football was everything. My mate legitimately got a Ronaldo Nazario haircut (didn’t last long) and I slept with the legendary 2002 Fifa World Cup ball. At the time it was my greatest posession.
Regarding school, instead of eating lunch, we’d spend recess playing football with a plastic bottle we found on the ground, using pillars as goal posts. I was top scorer. Suffice to say, the offside rule didn’t exist in our minds so I waited up top to score an easy tap in.
Before and after school, we would trade Panini stickers. It was our first real taste of economy. A Ronaldinho sticker was the Holy Grail.
Football was everything.
But how can I play football at home without risking the threat of breaking stuff? Meet technology.
My mum promised me a PlayStation one if I finished first grade with an excellent grade – so I did. My first game on the console? FIFA 2002.
Starting it up for the first time and hearing Gorillaz in the intro was my first real taste of England.
I will give myself the liberty to steal and adjust a comment on the YouTube video below by the user @avinashkapoor011: Back then, EA Sports didn’t sell a game – they sold a sport.
And sell a sport they did.
The Butterfly Effect
The year is 2004., and a ten year old me just discovered Football Manager, namely Football Manager 2005.
My knowledge of the English language was limited, to say the least. Players wanted something, but I didn’t understand a word. Think of it like Bielsa at Leeds… Without a translator.
However, from my two year experience of playing FIFA I understood “the premise of the game”: Get the best players, win titles, have fun demolishing opposing teams and, if possible, replicate what The Invincibles did (spoiler alert: never happened).
I had no idea at the time, but this very event shaped my life and created The Butterfly Effect – which was also a movie that, fittingly, came out that very same year.
The Little Mozart
My oldest brother was an avid Manchester United fan during the SAF era, but I couldn’t bear supporting the same team he supported. So, naturally, I looked up their main rivals and became an Arsenal fan. I watched them live for the first time in 2006 against Dinamo Zagreb in Zagreb (and watched my favourite player, Tomaš Rosicky, debut for Arsenal!).
Two years later, my mum bought me an Arsenal tracksuit, which was the first piece of Arsenal merch I ever had – and still have!
And then… I truly experienced Wengerball live on the TV… and what a perfect symphony Little Mozart composed.
“These guys are playing like magicians because they absolutely, 100% adore, live, eat, drink and breathe football”, I thought to myself at the time.
There wasn’t a shadow of a doubt – I’ll be an Arsenal fan for life and follow the Premier League for life.
Yeah, Premier League is cool, but…
Premier League was considered by many, including myself, as the best league in the world.
However, something was missing. The desire to go deeper was stronger than myself. After all, picking Arsenal in FIFA or Football Manager was boring and anything but a challenge.
So, that same year, I went deeper… a lot deeper. I found myself in Football League Two, where I took over the reigns of AFC Wimbledon, a club with rich, but sad history.
It felt right.
I soon found myself keeping track of results from lower league English football. AFC Wimbledon, Port Vale, Sheffield Wednesday… You name it, I kept track of it, whilst simultaneously following Arsenal in the Premier League.
Wealth in abundance, football clubs that no longer care about their fans and a working mans’ sport that is no longer
Eight years have passed and I found myself becoming more and more desensitized with the Premier League. Arsenal was and always will be my love, but I couldn’t hide the fact I started loathing the Premier League.
Lifetime fans begging for tickets that cost way, way too much for a “simple, common man”, clubs trading their historical values for a rich owner, corruption rearing its ugly head… The list goes on.
It just didn’t feel right.
The boy kicking a plastic bottle between pillars during recess inside me was both disgruntled and sad.
I found myself asking the same question over and over again:
“Did we lose our sport?”
The promised land called non-League
I needed to go deeper.
One year ago, I loaded up Football Manager 2021 and eventually found myself managing Boston United, a team in the sixth tier of English football, Vanarama National League North.
I didn’t play alone, though. You need someone to push you. People that have played this game will 100% understand me.
My two great friends from the Arsenal Croatia Supporters club, Josip and Gordan, who share the same passion and love for this sport, managed Blyth Spartans. I found myself surrounded by people who are just as enamoured with English non-League football as I was.
The dice was cast.
A day I will remember for the rest of my life
On April 30th 2023, after almost a year of ups and downs, I finally did the impossible: I got Boston United to the Premier League, finishing second in the Championship.
Just a season later, Boston United found themselves finishing eight in the Premier League.
I became so emotionally attached to the club after the whole (slow and painful) process, that there were no other options but to become a supporter, were there?
And now you know what I’m talking about.
Boston United Supporter’s Group
A month and a half before clinching promotion to the Premier League I looked up Boston United on Facebook and joined the Boston United Supporter’s Group.
Before joining the group, I was met with three questions:
- Do you support Boston United?
- Where is Boston’s new stadium located?
- What are your reasons for wanting to join this group?
I decided to be honest.
Ladies and gentlemen…
I got accepted.
A club for the people and the people for the club
Soon after, I found myself absolutely mesmerized by the Boston United fans. They were fantastic. Donating their own, hard earned money to buy, for example, goal nets for Boston United, their beloved club. It was like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
Steve Slater, the chairman of Boston United Supporters Association (BUSA) was transparent about when and where the money was going. Coming from Croatia, a country littered with corruption, this was like watching an episode of Twilight Zone.
If that wasn’t enough, if you were a member of BUSA (membership costs only ten pounds!), you could go on away fixtures with the BUSA bus for a measly sum of just twelve pounds.
Yes, you read that right. Twelve pounds for a return trip wherever Boston United played in England. It was surreal to me.
I felt like I felt when I was a five year old boy that viewed football as the perfect sport.
Hook, line and sinker – part two.
Shirts Matter
At the beggining of the summer Boston United released their home and away shirts for the 23/24 season. I saw the away shirt and could not believe my eyes. A retro shirt with a collar is all a man can really ask for – and Boston United provided just that. I had to order it. It was perfect.
Everything about Boston United just screamed “it’s perfect”.
Photo above: A (Boston United) footballer wearing the away Boston United shirt.
Photo below: A non-footballer wearing the away Boston United shirt.
I couldn’t resist putting WRIGHT 10 on the back.
“Why WRIGHT 10?”, you might ask.
Well…
A short story about how a virtual player impacted my very much real life
Well, I put WRIGHT 10 because of a certain Billy Wright, a Scottish player generated by Football Manager, who was an absolute legend in my Football Manager save. Boston United got him for €84K from Hearts in the League One days. He made more than 400 appearances for the club and scored 201 goals in the process!
However funny or weird it sounds, without him, you most likely wouldn’t be reading this and I would’ve never experienced what I experienced.
Not long after, Boston United matches were to be televised via the National League website for a monthly fee of 22.50 pounds.
I was over the moon.
Photo below: The first ever Boston United match I’ve watched live. Don’t ask about the result.
The next step was logical: I need to watch Boston United live.
Lily, the absolute pearl of a girlfriend she is, listened to my pleads to go watch Boston United live and obliged.
After all, Boston United were playing Curzon Ashton away on my birthday.
Football, football and then more football
The plan was simple. Go to England on October 6, stay until October 15 and watch two Boston United matches and one Arsenal match in that period.
Boston United were due to play Curzon Ashton away on October 7 and their rivals, Scunthorphe United at home on October 14.
However, because Boston United beat Rushall Olympic – also a team from the Vanarama National League North – in the third qualifying round of the FA Cup on September 30, the Scuntorphe United match had to be postponed for a later date.
Instead, Boston United were drawn against seventh tier Worksop Town away in the fourth qualifying round of the FA Cup.
No complaints here. It’s the oldest cup competition in the world.
I’m Shipping Up To Boston
The day of the trip finally arrived.
I packed my things, including a Croatian flag I was going to put on a fence at the matches and, most importantly, put on my Boston United shirt and announced to the Boston United Supporter’s Group (who were very familiar with me by then) I will see them in about 15 hours.
Their response was incredibly positive and welcoming. I felt like a child counting down the hours to Christmas morning.
We landed in Luton just before midnight, but had to wait in the queue for about an hour. Some security system went down, or so the people claimed. People were frustrated, tensions were rising, so I tried to defuse the situation.
“Hey, if it makes you lot feel any better, it’s my birthday right now. I’ve been waiting in the queue for so long I grew one year older. Literally“, I said, with a smile on my face while showing a passport proving my birthdate.
Because I was wearing a Boston United shirt, not one, but two guys gave me a shoutout at the airport: “Come on you Pilgrims!”.
Unbelievable. I felt at home and I didn’t even leave the airport yet!
We took the shuttle bus to London, but had to wait at King’s Cross until 5:30am to jump on the train that would ultimately take us to Boston, via Grantham. No sleep whatsoever.
At least the station was beautiful to look at while we waited.
The time to board the train finally arrived and I was happy to see that you could order a beer from your seat.
Hey! It was my birthday, don’t judge me!
After an hour of traveling, we arrived in Grantham, a beautiful little town, to board a different train, that goes all the way to Skegness, but stops in Boston.
You couldn’t order a beer from your seat in the new train. However, it was daytime by then and the scenery in Lincolnshire was absolutely stunning, so I didn’t mind.
I found myself enthralled by the beauty of Lincolnshire.
“My God, Boston must be even more beautiful than I thought“, I remember thinking to myself.
Photo below: The view of the beautiful green Lincolnshire flatlands from the train.
Two hours after boarding the first train in London, we finally arrived in Boston, where we were greeted by the famous 266 feet 6 inches (81.23 m) high Boston Stump – the St Botolph’s Church tower – completed between 1510 and 1520.
Not only does it proudly stand tall looking over Boston, but it serves as a constant reminder of Boston’s wealth in the past, when it was the second richest town in England.
The sheer grandness of it humbled me. This is no ordinary town.
However, we didn’t travel all this way just to see the Stump, we came here for Boston United.
After a short walk, we took a taxi in which I finally had the opportunity to say the following eight words: “Take us to the Boston United stadium, please”.
And, after just a few minutes drive, there it was.
The Jakemans Community Stadium, also known as The Quadrant. A modern, three terrace stadium, built in 2020, with a capacity of 5,061 (2,155 seated) spectators.
Home of Boston United.
My eyes immediately fixated upon the Boston United badge on the staircase, prompting me to climb to it and take a photo pointing at the badge on my chest.
No longer was it only on my chest or on my screen – it was everywhere.
It’s not a dream, you don’t need to pinch me.
At last, I am where I’m meant to be.
Croatian Pilgrims On Tour
Within the stadium, just a few steps from where I took my first photo with the Boston United badge, lies Ellenders, a bistro style bar and restaurant, named in honour of the Pilgrims’ legendary former club captain Paul Ellender.
Inside Ellenders, it’s impossible not to notice the massive “BOSTON UNITED” signs, just like it’s impossible not to notice the wall with photographs commemorating Boston United’s successes of the past, like gaining promotion to the EFL in 2002., or playing at Wembley in 1985., which is still the only time Boston United had the chance to play at the historic ground.
On that day, Boston United lost 2-1 in the FA Trophy final against Wealdstone. Chris Cook scored the goal for Boston United, becoming the only Boston United player to this day to score at Wembley.
He is an absolute legend, very much appreciated amongst the Boston United fanbase.
We entered Ellenders, sat at our table and politely nodded at the table on the opposite side, where I noticed some understandably curious glances aimed at us.
Not a minute has passed, and the silence was broken.
“Are you Dino? From Croatia?“, asked one of the Boston United supporters sitting at the table.
“I am!“, I happily replied and stood up to shake the hands of the people sitting at the table.
We chatted for a short while and then I returned to my seat and took out my Croatian flag which I proudly showed them.
“We have to take a picture!“, uttered one of them. I more than happily obliged.
Photo below: A very, very happy me with Boston United supporters.
Because it was still way too early to check in to our Airbnb, we had the issue of where to keep our luggage. I politely asked the lady tending the bar if she knew a solution – maybe we could leave it somewhere around the bar and pick it up when we come back?
She didn’t hesitate for a second and told me we can put in the office, where it would be safe as she’d lock the door.
The BUSA bus
Soonafter it was time to depart Ellenders and board the BUSA bus that would take us directly to Manchester, namely Curzon Ashton’s ground, The Tameside Stadium. The two lads wearing hats and standing behind the Boston United flag on the photo above promised me great seats at the very back of the BUSA bus.
Quite literally just met everyone, and they were already sticking their necks out for us. I was flabbergasted.
After a few minutes, we boarded the BUSA bus, where some gave us some more understandably curious looks, while others greeted us.
I looked up, and sure enough, second to last row, two seats were waiting for us.
“Told you I’d get you great seats didn’t I!“, happily exclaimed Scott, one the lads that promised us the seats and was sat directly behind us.
Once I thanked him and his mate Aston, I looked in front of me only to find an extended hand from the seat in front of us.
It was the hand of Graham Blackamore, who was sat with his wife Lynn Blackamore, wanting to meet us.
“I’ll look after you Dino, don’t you worry about it“, he said.
Turns out, the happily married couple visited Makarska, a lovely little seaside town in Croatia, a few years back.
“Your country is beautiful and we loved our stay in Makarska“, he told us – to my absolute delight.
I looked at the Croatian flag placed on my legs with a smile and a sense of incredible pride.
After a few minutes of conversation, we were approached by Jan Birley, whose role at BUSA was organizing away travels and making sure everything went to plan.
She handed us forms to sign up for a BUSA membership, as it was – unfortunately – not possible to do online from Croatia.
“All done? Hopefully you’ll get your membership cards just in time for the FA Cup tie against Worksop“, she optimistically said.
The rest of the trip to The Tameside Stadium we talked with people around us, and there was even some banter involved once we revealed with whom our allegiance stands in the Premier League.
I also have to mention the predict-the-outcome game they have on the BUSA bus.
Basically, you get a piece of paper with certain matches from the six tiers of English football happening at the same time Boston United are playing and you guess the outcome.
Will it be a draw, a win for the home or the away team?
Pay a pound, and if you’re the best predictor, you win a prize!
The two and a half hour long trip felt like just a few minutes, especially when I saw the beauty of the countryside in Northwest England.
Disclaimer: Taking photos from inside a moving bus is harder than I thought.
The Tameside Stadium, home of Curzon Ashton
To the joy of everyone inside the bus, we had finally arrived at The Tameside Stadium.
The bus parked just a few steps from the turnstiles, which was very convenient. After all, I still didn’t know how we’d be greeted by the home fans.
Coming from Croatia, let’s just say opposing fans are not greeted by chocolates and roses.
Once I entered the turnstile area, I had to purchase the reasonably priced tickets. Two tickets – twenty pounds.
As soon as we left the turnstiles, I saw our players warming up on the field, an abundance of Boston United flags at the East stand and directly in front of me a message saying “Welcome to Curzon Ashton F.C.”.
“This is so damn romantic and great“, I kept thinking over and over again. Visiting a non-League ground for a non-League match as a person from Croatia is not something that happens every day… if ever.
We took a walk towards the West stand, as I wanted to have a smoke just in case, still quite unsure of the rules at English football grounds.
There I was approached by a very stylish, suit-wearing Peter Taylor – a massive Boston United supporter that goes to both home and away matches – who contacted me on Facebook on October 4, saying he looks forward to meeting me.
Just like Lynn and Graham Blackamore, he too visited Makarska and loves Croatia, a fact he told me both on Facebook and in person.
Unfortunately, Peter’s wife and travel companion Julie passed away recently and – as he told me in front of the West stand – coming back to Croatia in the near future would cause him a lot of hurt, which is understandable.
“Maybe one day Peter“, I said, trying to be as respecful as I could towards Peter, whose eyes were genuine and I could see the pain behind his words.
We agreed on seeing each other later and went our separate ways.
I finished smoking and headed towards the East stand occupied by Boston United fans, oblivious to the impact this very day will have on my life.
An interview on the East stand, a photograph that will last a lifetime and faith restored
Walking towards the stand occupied by Boston United supporters, I looked around me, soaking up every moment I could. It was a hot, sunny day, one I’m very much accustomed to coming from Split, Croatia.
T-shirt weather, some might call it.
I walked up to Scott and Aston, whose flag was already put up on the fence and decided it was only right to put the Croatian flag right next to theirs.
After all, the #EVERYWHEREWEGO Boston United flag was the first Boston United related flag I ever saw with my very own eyes and the first ever Boston United related flag to feature the Croatian flag in a photo.
Before I could put up the Croatian flag, I was greeted by Tom Steadman, a Boston United supporter and a radio host from Boston’s 107 Endeavour FM, who commented on my post in the Boston United Supporter’s Group just before we left for the airport with the following words: “If we cross paths tomorrow I would love to do a little interview for us to play on Boston’s 107 Endeavour FM“.
Having worked as a radio host in the past, I more than happily obliged.
Photo below (courtesy of Lily, who else!): Tom telling me I am more than welcome amongst the Pilgrims, as is everyone – and me having my hand on my heart to show how much it means to me.
It was finally time to put up the Croatian flag for the first time in Boston United’s rich history.
Unfortunately, I had no strings to hold the flag, so I improvised on the right side of the flag with my jacket, which was of no use to me. Worked like a charm!
Scott and Aston generously lended me their string for the left side of the flag.
I repeat: They have never met me until that very morning.
Once the flag was up, we started chatting about the Croatian flag being put up, how odd it was and how we definitely needed to take a picture together.
Lily – once again – became the hero of the day and volunteered to take one of the most important photos of my life – sacrificing not being in that very same photo.
We gathered up – and history was made.
Photo below: I am on the left of the Croatian flag, happy as can be, sitting down are Scott and Aston, while the person standing between the flags is a certain Graham Blackamore. The two lads standing behind the Croatian flag are Cole and Alfie.
We took the picture and I was more confused than ever.
“These people literally just met me and here they are, happily posing with the Croatian flag and myself. What on earth is going on?!“, rang very loudly through my head.
But I was a fish in a barrel after that moment. These people are the kind of people to give you hope. To restore your faith. These people are my people.
Meet the Croat
The ref whistled for the start of the match and we were underway. Boston United are playing right in front of my eyes and Boston United players are just a few feet away from me.
How on earth did this happen?!
Coming from Croatia, shouting and supporting your team from minute 1 to minute 90 is not only normal – it is very much a given and expected. I often saw people getting scrutinized for not shouting their lungs out to support their team at a match at the terraces of Croatian stadiums.
It was finally the time to give back.
Whatever the Boston United supporters shouted, I tried to shout even louder.
When I saw Boston United players having an opportunity to pass somewhere, I tried to let them know.
For the first 20 minutes, Boston United were demolishing Curzon Ashton. We had proper chances – they had nothing. The only thing missing was a goal.
I distinctly remember watching the Curzon Ashton players scrambling to even make a forward pass, before ultimately passing back to their last defender, as they had no options for a legitimate attack.
They were also cursed with zero support from the home fans.
“They have no idea what to do with the ball! They have no creativity! They’re passing backwards! Use it! Press them!“, I shouted from the top of my lungs in hopes the players could hear me.
Ten more minutes have passed of Boston United bossing Curzon Ashton, before we were all shellshocked.
Devon Matthews, a Curzon Ashton player, scored an absolute worldie in the 30th minute. It didn’t mean a thing to me at the time, but, ultimately, nobody cares how I feel.
How do our players feel?
Boys against men
I could not believe my eyes. As I shouted that “this means absolutely nothing” to the players, as it was a one in a million goal, I saw their spirits fall flat.
They were still trying, but their body language changed.
They showed a weakness.
Another ten minutes have passed and Curzon Ashton scored another goal, this time from a corner kick.
Boston United players were devastated, as if they conceded in the 90th minute.
I could not believe my eyes… For the second time in ten minutes.
Here I was, surrounded by amazing, truly amazing supporters spending their hard earned money to watch their beloved club play wherever, and the players give up after only forty minutes?!
“What on Earth is going on?“, I thought to myself, before shouting to the players that they should play like men.
Fortunately, half-time was as near as it could be and I hoped they’d come out the dressing room for the second half as men, not as boys they played as before the end of the first half.
These supporters deserve much, much more.
An insignificant rest of the half had passed and nothing happened. The players left the field.
The supporters were angry – but hopeful.
Just as I was.
A big man with a big Boston United tattoo
During the halftime interval I had the opportunity to chat with a few Boston United supporters, who I already considered brothers.
“We’re playing like boys for some reason. We dominated them for the first twenty minutes. We’re obviously better than they are! How can they crumble so easily?!“, I asked around.
Soonafter, a veteran Boston United supporter with a massive Boston United tattoo on his right forearm agreed with me. He looked intimidating to me at the time, but little did I know he was an incredible guy, who also decided to take me up under his wing.
I thanked the stars and breathed a sigh of relief.
We were all on the same page and nobody gave me grief for having a strong opinion despite being “green” in the group.
I thanked the stars again.
Hoofball, losing with dignity, applauding the away supporters and a certain Sam McLintock
Before I knew it, the second half was about to start.
We all applauded the Boston United players coming out on the field, giving our support and pushing them towards victory.
“They got it good in the dressing room for sure“, I thought to myself while applauding them.
The second half started and Boston United players begun hoofing the ball forward, for reasons unknown to me.
Unknown and illogical.
They lost the possession so many times playing like this. Even throw-ins weren’t exempt. Can’t remember a single Boston United throw-in with the ball staying in our possession.
I was so confused.
But the fans didn’t stop supporting. After all, Boston United fans were much, much louder than Curzon Ashton fans, who only sang when their team scored.
I saw this as an advantage.
I sang the Boston United songs I knew the words to – the ones I didn’t know the words to I at least tried to clap.
And all of this lasted until the 53rd minute, when Curzon Ashton scored their third goal.
Curzon Ashton fans celebrated, Boston United fans dropped their heads. Their team had let them down.
I felt a personal responsibility to make sure we weren’t silent.
“Play like men! You’re playing like boys! They’re not better than you!“, I continuously shouted.
Not much had changed.
I settled for a loss… But not any loss.
“If you’re gonna lose, lose with dignity!“, I began shouting at the players, aiming at them scoring at least one goal and not allowing Curzon Ashton to have a clean sheet.
I didn’t travel 1.500 miles to watch this club for the first time, only for them to get battered by Curzon Ashton because they gave up. On my birthday.
My shouting was met with positive laughter from Boston United supporters.
One of them, the Boston United tattoo on the right forearm guy (if you’re reading this, sorry, but I didn’t catch your name!) even said he just might put the phrase on his flag. I saw a smile on his face, even though he was obviously hurting.
It lifted their spirits, if only a little.
So I persisted with my shouting, at the absolute aghast of my vocal cords.
All of a sudden, Sam McLintock, a 22-year old midfield/attacking midfield player entered the field and Boston United started playing with vigour – playing like men.
Boston United became a threat and, because of this, I suddenly felt a change in the air on our stand.
No longer was I the main “shouter”.
People stood up and started shouting, encouraging and transmiting their energy towards the players. Momentum, a massive deal in any sports, had shifted to Boston United’s favour.
“We got them now“, I remember thinking to myself, even though it was almost full time.
Attack after attack, but to no avail. We just couldn’t score…
Until Michael Bostwick, a player that doesn’t usually score, shot a Hail Mary shot from around 20 yards – and it went in!
Boston United literally just scored one goal and is nowhere near a draw, but we were all happy and elegantly celebrated. I was happy.
I have no issue with losing. It’s a common theme in sports. But what I do have an issue is losing without putting up a fight. You’re not playing for yourself – you’re playing for the fans who spend their hard earned money to watch you play wherever and represent a club they found themselves in.
Boston United started to pile the pressure on Curzon Ashton. The momentum is on our side, it’s as clear as day.
But it was too late. The referee blew the full time whistle and the final score was settled: Curzon Ashton 3 – 1 Boston United.
Most of the Boston United supporters just dropped their heads and headed for the exit. That performance wasn’t right nor fair towards them.
I headed for the fence and tried calling the Boston United players over, who stood as far away from us on the field as politely possible as they could (out of fear? out of arrogance? who knows?) and applauded our away supporters while simultaneously walking backwards toward the tunnel.
Still, the Boston United supporters applauded them.
I wasn’t one of them, I was focused on calling them over to let them know they played like boys, instead of giving these supporters what they at least deserve – a proper fight.
I utter the Croatian words “ukakili su se” at the end of the video to Lily, who was recording the video, meaning “they chickened out of coming to us”. To put it mildly.
All of a sudden, the 22-year old Sam McLintock appears and decides to come to the fans on the fence.
He gives his hand to everyone, including myself, and utters a single “wow” when I tell him I came from Croatia to watch them play – continued by “let the players in dressing room know they can’t play like this”.
He was the first Boston United player to shake my hand and for this, I will forever be grateful to him and remember him dearly.
We started heading towards the bus, giving an applause to Sam, and the “big, intimidating guy with a big Boston United tattoo” gave me a nod on the shoulder – a man’s way of saying “it’s alright”. I reciprocated with two hands.
It takes a lot to be a man, however unpopular it may seem nowadays, but – incredibly – because of that it doesn’t take a lot to bond with another man.
And at this moment I knew we would be alright.
Players and managers come and go.
It’s the supporters who are the very foundation, floors, walls, furniture and the roof of the house most commonly referred to as a football club.
P.S. The man in the suit in the video is the one and only Peter Taylor, with whom I, sadly, don’t have a photo.
A long trip back home, Derby County and raffles
Sitting back in the bus you could feel everyone having a sour taste in their mouths.
“How on Earth did we lose this match 3-1?!“, you could almost hear everyone thinking.
Still, life goes on, and so the BUSA bus driver turned on the engine and we headed home – to Boston.
The trip was very much shortened by conversation with other Boston United fans in the bus, even though I already started coughing and speaking with a five-cigarette-packs-a-day voice: Courtesy of shouting at the Boston United players to “play like men”.
One the people sitting at the back of the BUSA bus was Wayne Grant, another great Boston United supporter who told me stories of his other beloved team – Derby County – and Igor Štimac, a Croat who was their hero.
We talked and bantered about everything but the shameful loss we all experienced that day. It’s a means to an end. It’s how you come home without crying in your pillow.
A lot of the Boston United supporters on the BUSA bus asked me whether or not I’d still be coming to watch the Worksop Town match, and I could feel the fear in their voice, as if they feared I’d give up on the club after witnessing a loss.
I’d never. Irregardless of the results the club is putting out, I would be there – because of the amazing community and supporters associated with the club.
All of sudden, Jan said on the bus microphone she had an announcement to make and before I knew it, she announced to the rest of the bus it was my birthday and all of a sudden I found myself surrounded by people – who just witnessed their beloved team lose a match 3-1 – singing “Happy birthday” to me, even though I was a complete stranger.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: They are an incredible bunch of people. Incredible. They deserve the very best.
After that, Lily and I got the very same piece of paper we received at the start of the journey – it was the predict-the-outcome paper.
Suffice to say, our prediction talent showed its true face – there was none!
However, Jan presented us with a raffle.
You pay another pound or two, depending on how many tickets you want, and you get the chance to win a bottle of wine, crisps…
Suffice to say, our raffle talent showed its true face – there was none!
Still, it felt good donating to BUSA, as Lily and I both knew where the money was going – and it was going to a good cause.
We chatted some more and before you knew it, we were close to Boston.
Sweet, sweet Ellenders or how Lynn and Graham Blackamore changed our lives
Entering Lincolnshire, Graham Blackamore, sitting directly in front of us, gave us a suggestion – let’s go to Ellenders for a pint and then the happily married couple would take Lily and I to our Airbnb in Boston.
It was incredibly kind of them, so we accepted.
We finally came to The Jakemans Community Stadium, where I said my goodbyes and thankyous to everyone on the BUSA bus and promised to see them again for the Worksop Town FA Cup fixture.
Lynn, Graham, Lily and I entered Ellenders.
We sat down on the couches and started talking.
Turns out, to my absolute astoundment, both Lynn and Graham worked at the gates of Boston United’s previous stadium – York Street – for 25 years!
It was a tough gig, but they did it because they love the club, not for profit. They had their main jobs. It was a special story to listen to – both humbling and amazing.
My respect for everyone and everything surrounding Boston United grew stronger.
All of a sudden, the main chef, Tom Hall, who cooks for the Boston United players, appeared in front of us, introduced himself and shook my hand. Graham told him my story and how I just got here from Croatia.
It was bizzare to me.
Here I was, just an ordinary man who arrived in England for the first time in his life that day, having the privilege to sit alongside great people like Lynn and Graham Blackamore, meeting people with very important roles inside the great Boston United.
I had no idea what’s coming.
All of a sudden, Tom came to us again and said: “Come with me”.
Graham, Lily and I stood up – at Graham’s request – and followed Tom.
We exited Ellenders and entered the Jakemans Community Stadium hallways, also filled with pictures.
There, we were stopped by Graham, who proudly wanted to show us a certain picture on the wall: It was a picture from 1985., the year Boston United played at Wembley and – despite losing – still organized a parade for the supporters.
Lo and behold, one of the parade attendees was a young Graham Blackamore with curly hair, looking at the parade bus with pride. One look up at “present” Graham and you see the same look of pride.
We moved forward, and before I could get to grasp with what’s happening, I found myself in the Boston United dressing room, dumbfounded with the situation.
“How on Earth is this happening, what on Earth am I doing in the Boston United dressing room?!“, I kept thinking over and over again.
I looked up to Tom and Graham, and they were smiling, but with a proud father smile – if that makes sense. I could feel they were happy – because I was happy.
I’ve met them that very same day. I repeat… I’ve met them that very same day.
Photo below: Alice in Wonderland Dino in a Boston United dressing room.
After an incredible tour, we thanked Tom and came back to the couches at Ellenders to find Lynn asking us if Graham showed us the parade photo, grinning ever so slighty, knowing full well how much it means to her husband.
We all laughed, gave Graham a bit of grief and sat down at the couches.
Meet Roy Hackford and John Blackwell
We chatted for a bit, before Graham noticed Roy Hackford and John Blackwell – both wearing suits – walk through Ellenders and invited them over. They obliged and sat over next to us on the couches.
I had no idea who they were, so I listened to Graham introduce them.
Roy Hackford is Graham’s lifelong friend, who he went to Primary school with, while John Blackwell is a legend of the Club – as Graham explained to me with a youthful smile on his face.
Roy sat left to me, while John sat on the opposing side of me.
We got to talking about the club, about Lily and I being here, about Lynn and Graham, about Skegness…
At that moment I felt completely out of place. Not in a negative sense. But in a “what-on-earth-did-I-do-to-deserve-sitting-with-these-people” kind of out place.
Roy asked me if I got the match programme from today, to which I replied negatively, as they’re not really a thing in Croatia and I never even saw one in person.
He looked at me with a smile on his face and casually said: “You hang on a minute”, and got up and dissapeared for a minute before showing up with a dozen matchday programmes to gift to me.
I was astounded for the 15th time that day.
I thanked Roy, put them gently aside and leaned into the conversation. My pearl of a girlfriend and paparazzo Lily was shutting down after more than 40 hours of no sleep. We all noticed it, but understood her.
It was a long, long, long day after all.
But it was a day to remember for the rest of our lives.
So I decided to stick it out a bit longer.
I talked to Roy a bit more, and even though he literally just met us, he suggested taking us with his car to Skegness, to see the famous, award-winning, vibrant, family-friendly seaside resort.
Once again, I happily obliged.
“These people are too good for this world“, I thought to myself while looking at Roy, John, Lynn and Graham.
We had a drink and decided it was time to go to bed. After all, Lily decided this very same thing half an hour before us.
A promise from the BUSA bus and a desire to come back as soon as possible
We got up, picked up the match day programmes Roy brought to me, and headed towards the Blackamore car.
It was around 10pm and Lily and I were absolutely ready to fall asleep. Lynn and Graham drove us to our Airbnb and – knowing we were headed for London to watch Arsenal v Manchester City the day after and coming back to Boston on Wednesday – wished us luck and said they can’t wait for us to come back.
We thanked them dearly, entered our Airbnb, and as soon as we touched our beds – deservedly fell asleep.
We will come back to Boston in four days.
But we had no idea what paradise we’d walk into.
End of part 1 of 2. Part 2 can be found here.