For the Journey

On a weekend of emotion and promotion, Argyle Media’s Rob McNichol tells you about a few journeys he went on over the last few days….

I woke up on Sunday morning in beautiful Royal William Yard, a little bleary-eyed, and remembered my car was 2.5 miles away, in the Home Park car park.

Argyle TV commentator Charlie Price and I had overnighted in the RWY, having arrived there in the early hours, via hostelries in the North Hill and Barbican areas of the city.

Now, we began the uphill climb to our respective vehicles, and as the fresh air helped to clear our foggy minds, we began to reflect on the previous day.

It was a day that Britain’s Ocean City once again became Britain’s Promotion City, a day in which our club secured a return to English football’s second tier for the first time in 13 years, and what an extraordinary journey that decade-and-a-third has been. It culminated in a momentous day to conclude a monumental week, as Argyle beat Burton Albion 1-0 at Home Park to clinch promotion.

It ended a week in which the Theatre of Greens had played host to three games. All were sold out. All ended in Argyle victories. All featured Niall Ennis goals. The last one will go in down in Argyle folklore.

The week had felt a little like a major tournament in which we watch England in action every few days, knowing the huge importance of every game, getting yourself into the same seat, having gone through one stressful day, had the elation of a win, then the return of those butterflies as the next game loomed.

This time, Niall’s winner means we can enjoy the final game of the season, trying to secure the title at Port Vale. We can enjoy the summer, with the intrigue of new arrivals, the anticipation of fixtures against sides we have not played in far too long. The sun will shine, fun will be had, and every now and then we will smile at the memory of a glorious April day.

All these thoughts were expressed as Charlie and I passed Princess Yachts, crossed Stonehouse Bridge and climbed up the hill past Brickfields. As we entered Stoke Village, and headed along Milehouse Road towards Home Park, a man out for a Sunday morning jog passed us, headphones on and wearing an Argyle away shirt.

Fifty metres further on, another man was spending part of his Sunday pruning a hedge, whilst wearing a sweater on which an Argyle badge was emblazoned.

Perhaps those two gentlemen do those activities every weekend, wearing the same gear. Or perhaps, on this occasion, they were filled with pride from Saturday, and when they dressed for their outdoor pursuit, either consciously or subconsciously selected the green and white livery.

A friend of mine was a teacher in a Plymouth school in 2004, the last time we got promoted to the Championship. He reported, anecdotally, that there was a noticeable rise in kids wearing Argyle shirts on non-uniform days or for football practise as the Greens contested England’s second tier, compared to before.

As a media team, after we had finished post-match press conferences and so forth in the aftermath of the Burton game, we headed back to the office to conclude our work. After quotes were transcribed, articles written, highlights clipped together and social posts written, we demonstrated how we can work as a unit and adapt tactically, just like Schuey and the team.

We interchanged roles and shared ideas to get the best out of what we were doing. We also showed our tactical flexibility as, while we worked, we slipped effortlessly between going with the front pairing of Chandon and his mate Moet, and occasionally opting for the lad Bollinger, on his own up front.

I am exaggerating slightly, and I promise that we are professional enough to ensure that jobs were done before any serious drinking started, but what a joy to celebrate the club’s – our club’s - success as a unit of our own.

Several of us headed to one bar en route into town, where a band playing indie covers of the last 20 years paused occasionally to allow chants to develop. It is a curious sight to see a bar full of green and white shirts finishing a bop to Last Nite by the Strokes, then launching into ‘Schuey is our leader’. It worked, though.

Next, we headed to the Barbican, and encountered lots more people in Argyle shirts. One of them wore a home shirt with ‘Azaz 18’ on it. On further inspection, it actually was Finn Azaz, still wearing his kit, and happily posing for selfies and videos. Anyone who bumped into Finn – and the other players borrowed to us this season – will tell you categorically that the notion that loan players do not care is wash of the hoggiest variety.

Azaz was not the only player still in a home jersey. Curiously, when I saw him, Joe Edwards had one on, except he had it on back to front. And it said ‘Mumba 17’ on it. I chose not to ask.

As players, staff, employees and fans intermingled and celebrated success as an amorphous collective, the iconography struck me. On a Saturday afternoon or Tuesday night, we wear our replica shirts to Home Park to sit in solidarity with our heroes on the pitch. We wear our kits because it shows our support to the men on the field, and we sometimes emblazon their names on our backs to indicate our favourites.

But the streets of Plymouth and the bars of the Barbican are OUR domain, and by wearing their shirts among us, I thought it showed the admiration our players hold in their hearts for the Green Army.

The evening could easily have ended in a pleasant, yet cosseted, private event, which probably would have been lovely, but the fact that our lads wanted to share the night with all of us speaks volumes.

Much is made of the gulf between players and fans these days, and while I get that the observations are mostly aimed towards the Premier League, fingers can be pointed down to our level as well. (It just struck me…what exactly is ‘our level’? It just changed overnight!) Perhaps De Bruyne will party on Deansgate, or Odegaard will be in the inns of Islington, but all I care about is how we do things, and on Saturday night we did it all together. We may not be considered a big fish, but we still went to Bar Rakuda.

It isn’t just Saturday night in which we did it together. We have done so all along. I am immensely proud to be part of a fabulously run club, with excellent leaders, brilliant organisation and, importantly, investment, both in resource and people.

I am in my second stint working at Argyle. While we quite often talk now of the settled state of the football club, I worry that it may make previous workforces sound ‘less than’. That is not fair. Always remember that Argyle exists because of lots of different groups of people, not least a staff who worked for nothing and saw us through our worst-ever years. The staff have long been hard-working, diligent, caring people, but were often undervalued, under-resourced and overworked. It is the culture that has changed more than anything.

Let’s end with another fun story, and possibly as good an indication as to why I believe the above statement.

In the tunnel, after the game, as we awaited the return of the players to the pitch, several of us saw our owner, Simon Hallett. I offered my hand to shake, and he ignored it. He chose a hug, instead, which was a nice gesture, although he had been covered in champagne from the dressing room, making the embrace a little clammy.

“Well done, Simon,” I said. He responded: “We did it. We ALL did it.”

And he really means everyone. From him, to me, to Niall Ennis, to Steven Schumacher, to the person sitting in seat Q174 of the Upper Mayflower, to the person listening in Australia on Argyle TV.

As a great man once (twice, actually) said: “We’ve only gone and done it!”