Wigan

Even though I have been to Wigan before it had never occurred to me to imagine Wigan Pier as anything other then a wooden thing sticking out to sea with a dishevelled and windswept George Orwell at the end of it. In the car on Saturday on the way to the JJB ('you can't miss it mate, it's round the back of the shops') we passed the pier. It looks pretty dull as it goes. Definitely the sort of place a southerner would get 'a slap' on a Friday night or after a footy match.

In contrast to Birmingham and, to a lesser extent, Blackburn, Wigan near the footy ground had a slightly sinister edge to it. We'd visited relatives nearby and that was all very pleasant and friendly but the stripey herd of Latics fans (I was going to say hoard but that would be an exaggeration) looked almost neanderthal in their gait. Hardly any of them had any hair and they all looked pretty rough, I have to say. I wasn't expecting this at all.

The ground was packed at the Spurs' end and patchy at best elsewhere in the ground. Both I and the boy thought we'd not hear a murmur from the Wigan fans. That they'd evolved sufficiently to master verbal communication was something of a shock so when a little cluster sung their hearts out throughout the game, sometimes humorously, I had to admit that my stereotyping and prejudgement had gone into overdrive prior to the game.

One song about Emile Heskey made me laugh a lot and I hope that we can steal it for Darren Bent when he has his renaissance next season and scores a hatful:

There's only one Emile Heskey
One Emile Heskey
He used to be shite
but now he's alright
We're walking in a Heskey wonderland

Predictably it was 1-1. This was enough to send the Wigan fans into a cup winningesque frenzy of celebration which was bit odd. A similar result at the Lane on Saturday will not send me into a celebratory frenzy. I think we'll buck the trend though. Bolton beware: we're going to score 5 goals.