At 1 o’clock the ground was already bustling with people as the mascot reported for duty. The parking attendant orchestrated. A room at the back of the club shop provided the kit for the day.
Yellow stewards bibs abounded. Black clad doormen, wired for sound, occasionally touched an ear and accepted his presence as he entered the inner sanctum, a place known only to players, managers and mascots, the elite.
It was cold outside so in the gaffer’s office a heater heated. On the wall a TV distracted, another match, another place an earlier kick off. During the brief audience they shook hands, pontificated, named names, mused outcomes.
The mascot then made his ritual way around the dressing room, autograph book at the ready and club biro poised. Illegible signatures told a familiar story, new kids on the block sat side by side with old hands, on their way down and serving out time. Temporary loaners and hopers going up or overlooked and not going anywhere.
There was time now for a tour of the executive boxes. Warm, dry and soundproof. A buffet awaited their occupants. Sausage rolls, sandwiches and samosas. The club bar buzzed.
Time to get ready.
In his own changing room he brushed on appropriate colours and made his way out onto the windswept, icy field of play to warm up. A couple of track-suited players kept him busy whilst his parents sought refuge in a tray of overcooked chips, damp salt and a cup of tea.
The chat on the touchline was an indulgence. Photographers arrived from home and away, unpacking lenses, telescoping tripods.
The time drew nearer and the tunnel sucked the pitch clean. Noisier grew the crowd and finally the youngster ran out carrying ball and leading team. Photographs, coin tossing, handshakes.
The kick off.
The game was the usual mix of highs and lows, disappointments and triumphs. Disagreements and, unfortunately, a sending off (come off it ref)! Today, as on too many previous occasions, disappointment prevailed. They had run onto the pitch, tall and confident. Title contenders. We seemed to walk on with heads bowed though to be fair our actual performance did not reflect this.
As the afternoon became evening, high on the hill above the ground the cathedral and castle turned to silhouette and looked down keeping their thoughts to themselves. Nearby a church tower, and fire station had perhaps more to say as the crowds streamed past.
The car park emptied slowly and the mascot, work done, went home.
Tags: Lincoln City, mascot