Callum McManaman scores the only goal of the game
There’s nothing quite like an unplanned night out. This visit to England’s second city was something of a spontaneous decision as I was flicking through the fixtures for tonight and noticed that Birmingham were at home: easily within reach from my Stoke-on-Trent flat. Add that to the fact that I could get a ticket for just £5 and that there were cash turnstiles for the away end and I was set. The game was vital for both teams for completely different reasons, too. Birmingham City needed the points to move out of the relegation zone for their last game of the season, away to Bolton Wanderers, while Wigan Athletic were looking for a win that would secure them a play-off place. Blues hadn’t won at home since October, whilst the Latics won just two of their last eight in the league, so I wasn’t too sure on what to expect (other than Wigan attempting to play some attractive football).
Having left Stoke quite early to make sure I found my way to the stadium without any problems, I got to Birmingham at 6 o’clock-ish. After walking in the wrong direction for a few minutes, I decided I needed to get my phone out to get going in the right direction. I made it in just under half an hour (anyone who’s been there before knows that it’s quite the walk to St. Andrews from the station), but I couldn’t see the away end. However, after walking round the entirety of the ground (taking about 10 minutes), I’d noticed that I’d missed the gate that quite clearly said “away supporters only”. What an absolute fucking tit I was. After the body search by the stewards, I got into the ground with about 45 minutes until the game kicked off and I had an excellent view of the pitch. The only let down was that ex-Canary Leon Barnett was on the bench for Wigan. As we got closer to kick-off, the Wigan end inevitably filled up – and it filled up quite nicely too. I think there was something like 1000 there, although I’m absolutely terrible at guessing numbers.
Anyhow, the teams came out and Birmingham’s pre-match rendition of Keep Right On was actually fantastic – shame for them that it was the only thing fantastic about Birmingham City all night. Just three minutes into the game and Wigan had the lead. After some neat football from the Latics, Spaniard Jordi Gomez found highly-rated winger Callum McManaman and he cut inside onto his right foot and fired into the far corner. Wigan weren’t letting up, either – although Birmingham’s pressing game meant that Wigan were finding it hard to get their game into full flow. It was a sensible move by Birmingham but you had to wonder how long they could keep it up for as the game became somewhat bitty. Off of the pitch, a small corner Birmingham’s fans ironically sang “there’s only 10 of you singing!”. I couldn’t help but laugh as the Wigan fans responded with the same chant. Blues began to grow into the game a bit more, and Emyr Huws forced an excellent one handed save from Scott Carson to prevent Birmingham from levelling as we slowly drifted towards half-time.
After a lengthy delay for an injury to Martyn Waghorn, the break was upon us. I decided to purchase a Cornish Pasty for £2.90 but it was fucking boiling and the pastry was far too crumbly for my liking, making a mess everywhere. Scolding my tongue several times throughout eating it, I wasn’t best pleased with the food, if I am honest. On the pitch, there was a competition where a fan tried to score from increasingly large distances in order to win prizes. I’d only just got in for the attempt from approximately 35 yards, where he won a season ticket for next season. As far as half-time entertainment goes, I think it’s pretty decent, although nothing beats the crossbar challenge in my eyes.
The teams soon emerged for the second half and Birmingham City made a change, bringing on the man mountain that is Nikola Zigic for Lee Novak as they desperately searched for a way back into the game. Unfortunately for them, Wigan started the half much the better side and looked destined to get a second goal. Martyn Waghorn shot into the side netting from a narrow angle when there were options in better positions as Wigan squandered their best chance to make the game safe. At the other end, Birmingham’s football became increasingly more direct as they searched for a way back into the game but Zigic was unable to convert Blues’ best chance, weakly placing a header into Scott Carson’s arms from six yards out. Wigan were slightly more defensive in the second half as they tried to see out their 1-0 lead.
With 10 minutes of the game to go, Birmingham fans started to abuse this rather large lad at the front of the Wigan fans, singing “you fat bastard”. I didn’t see what happened next, but there was a large cheer as I looked down and he and his mate was topless and we were then singing “John! John will tear you apart again!” – I couldn’t stop laughing. The clock ticked down and in the 89th mivnute I got my wish; ex-Norwich City defender Leon Barnett was coming off of the bench, replacing Shaun Maloney as Wigan went well and truly on the defensive. As four additional minutes were added on by the referee, Birmingham pushed forward desperately in search of a crucial equaliser that would leave their fate in their own hands next weekend at Bolton. Pumping long ball after long ball into the Wigan box and throwing everybody forward, they didn’t get the break they hoped as Wigan were able to see the game out. The contrast in emotions couldn’t have been much greater between the two sets of supporters – Blues fans were silent, possibly accepting the prospect of a drop into the third tier of English football for the first time since 1995. At the other end of the spectrum, Wigan fans were gleefully singing manager Uwe Rosler’s name.
Needing to get back for my train, I made a relatively sharp exit from the ground but I had little idea of where I was going as my phone had ran out of battery. I tried following people to the station, no luck. I was lost. To make matters worse, there were no clear signs pointing to New Street Station. I was sort-of resigned to having to get the first train back in the morning, if I am honest. Having ran in what I thought was roughly where the station was for about 20 minutes, I eventually found a sign to New Street Station. I was lucky – the station was little more than 5 minutes away from me and I’d made the train. However, my legs weren’t going to forgive me in a hurry and I was somewhat relieved as I finally collapsed into my train seat. Making it home at 11:30, I was delighted with what was a fiver that had been spent very well.
Under The Floodlights 