So it was that the cursed TV cameras were to install their latest glass ceiling above 7,000 Saturday dreams last week, sealing-in the fog of perspiring hopeful Lutonian brows beneath. Surely it won't be long until the fresh air begins to flow through Kenilworth Road once again?
We bloody knew it would happen, too. We look less comfortable on screen than a desperate, fame hungry Chris Moyles these days as we once again fidgeted at the attention of the cameras.
It’s not that we freeze on TV, more that it subtly puts us off our swagger a bit, like a celebrity guest on Sunday Brunch caught cringing between the two “banter” stools of Lovejoy and Rimmer.
The Kenny-rock-blocking metaphor of Saturday’s TV guests was beautifully illustrated by the huge broadcast trucks obscuring the magical first view of our Kenilworth Road End for those defiantly un-armchairmen and women who had shunned their TV dinner and ascended Hazelbury Crescent, LU1, for the real thing.
The early kick off, dictated from Sky above, created that slightly surreal feel to proceedings that it always does. Like a 6am pint in an airport before a holiday the atmosphere in the ground was positive but a little unsure. Is it too early for a pint? Well it’s certainly too early for football. But from their sofas, Saturday’s soccer consumerverse could gawp-on passively horizontal, and that was the main thing.
Glimpses of sunshine and blue-skies were definitely mustered through the early Bedfordshire afternoon. There was a nice fizz about the midfield play in the first half and some good openings were created, without that crucial clinical finish being applied. We defended well too for the most part, but we’re not quite there yet and it’s the autumn anticipation that we enjoy anyway, eh lads? More so than that boring, winning winter and spring bit that is to come.
My old man, the definition of an armchair Liverpool fan himself, has recently decided to start spending his Saturday’s with his son at Kenilworth Road learning about proper football and as he's not great with stairs these days we've been watching the last couple of games from a slightly lower vantage point than my usual corner perch towards the rafters of the Main Stand.
From the enclosure, far from the distraction of a decent-ish away following from Devon in the Oak, you get a slightly different perspective on everything. If you only ever sit in one stand I thoroughly recommend having a game or two among the diverse and distinct micro-cultures that exist in other bits of the ground.
For one thing, those people that annoy you every week by singing the wrong words to songs and generally being wrong about Matty Robinson’s lovely hair aren’t there. There are new and exciting oddballs (not you mate, you’re a LEGEND) to discover at every turn in our great old ground, and cherish each and every one of them like brothers and sisters we must.
On to the next one then, lads. Back at the usual time, and maybe not in your usual spot. If there’s one thing about this John Still era at Luton Town that is for certain in these slightly uncertain times: the revolution will not be televised.