In-ger-land no more

IT had been ten years or more since I had been to Wembley to watch a big match. It must have been the Manchester United- Newcastle Cup final.
So when the chance of a ticket to see the new Wembley came along it was too good to pass over, although I knew getting to North London in time for the 8 pm kick-off on a work day would be difficult.
The fact that England had the chance to qualify for next year's Europeans championships, following Israel's victory over Russia, provided an obvious added incentive.
My great Pal John Stamp managed to get the tickets and agreed to drive to London, via Southampton where I had a business appointment earlier in the day. We left Soton at 1.45pm, allowing plenty of time to get to Wembley, via my flat in Docklands where we planned to stay the night.
We stopped for a quick snack at Fleet Services and made good time to London. Then it all started to go pearshape. We got caught in a pig of a traffic jam caused by an accident on the Cromwell Road on our way into town. It was clear we were going nowhere for a couple of hours so we decided to find a different route through West London to get out to the East End.
We arrived at the flat at 6 pm and after a quick change caught a bus to Canary Wharf where we jumped on a Jubilee Line tube to Wembley Park, 17 stops away.
The tube was crowded to a dangerous level but there was some friendly banter going on. It was pouring with rain by the time we got to Wembley and we both bought an England hat to keep dry.
The new Wembley looked truly impressive and as we walked up Wembley Way a few choruses of "In-ger-land, In-gerr-land" broke out bringing back memories when we were younger men and went to a number of cup finals. I started to feel quite excited and even joined in a couple of chants.
We got into the stadium half an hour before kick-off but the queues at the refreshment counters were too long to get a hot drink and take our seats before kick-off.
Wembley looked every inch a stadium for the 21st century but the pitch was in a terrible state, waterlogged down the wings and obviously damaged by the recent NFL American football game.
The 90,000 crowd to a man stood in tribute as some of our Armed Forces just back from Iraq and Afghanistan paraded around the stadium.
What happened over the next 90 minutes was a strange combination of disappointment, elation and exasperation. We were amazed that Frank Lampard got the "man-of-the-match" award; I didn't realise he was on the pitch for the first 20 minutes. Peter Crouch was clearly our best player and the arrival of David Beckham as a substitute after half-time lifted the crowd and he teammates.
Why the heck Steve McClaren reverted to 4-4-2 after coming back from two-nil down to 2-2 will always be a mystery. Apparently, he ignored the advice of assistant coach Terry Venables to bring on Owen Hargreaves to shore up the midfield for the last 15 minutes and he looked a rather sad and pathetic figure sheltering on the touchline under an umbrella. Surely getting wet with your players is part of being the coach? I prefer managers to be in a tracksuit, urging their players on from the dugout or technical area, rather than the suited and booted brigade.
The players skulked off the pitch after the final whistle, apart from Beckham who acknowledged the crowd's applause, obviously aware that he was probably wearing an England shirt for the last time. Beckham deserves his 100th cap and I hope whoever is appointed as the new England coach will be man enough to grant that wish. After all, we're only going to be playing friendlies over the next few months. Beckham deserves it.
If the disappointment of not qualify was not enough, worse was to come.
We exited the new stadium, via the escalators, very quickly but were then subjected to 90 minutes in monsoon conditions in Wembley Way as tens of thousands edged their way to Wembley Park station. The police had no option but to manage the number of fans allowed onto the station at one time for fear of a potential tragedy
Only this country could spend £750 million on building a national stadium but not put in the infrastructure to match.
Watching our national game in a new national stadium stadium should be a pleasurable experience, whatever the weather.
It turned out to be a nightmare - without taking the pathetic performance by the England players into consideration.
As we stood in the driving rain, soaked to our socks, I looked at John and admitted: "I'm too old for this. Next time I'll watch it on the telly."
The journey back to Docklands was even more fraught as railway officials struggled to get the fans away from Wembley. We were planning to go for a drink but drenched to the skin and miserable as sin we decided to drive home, arriving back in Dorset at 4.30 am.
I am pleased I've seen the new Wenbley. But I have no intention of going again.