C is for ... (Part 2)

[C] is for Cambridge

That's Cambridge in England, not anywhere in America or anywhere else. My birthplace and no, I did not go to University there. If I had a dollar for every time I was educated there, I'd be driving a Lamborghini Countach by now.

I was born at the family home in the village of Cherry Hinton, south-east of the city back in 1973 (*cough*).

As with most places in the UK, there's a lot of history. I don't recall much of those first six years of my life there before we moved to pastures new, but I do recall it being a drab place. My most recent trip through there back in 2001 showed that nothing had changed much, except the addition of a multitude of traffic calming measures through the main street. The village is located near the Gog Magog Hills, also known as Giant's Grave, because that's where, legend tells us, that the giants Gog and Magog were buried.

In 1979 we moved to Waterbeach, a village a few miles north-east of the city and a much nicer location for a young, impressionable lad to grow up. As you would read if you followed the link, Waterbeach has quite a history: Links to the Romans, an appearance in the Domesday Book (basically an census performed by William the Conquerer in 1086) and the Knights Templar were based at Denny Abbey.

When Jo and I moved in together we lived on the outskirts of the city for a couple of years. It's funny because I spent 25 years trying to get out of Cambridge, moved to the other side of the world and now I miss it like crazy. It's a slow-paced small city with a crap road system, but it's one of the most beautiful areas in England. If it wasn't for the opportunities we have now in Australia, we'd move back in a the bat of an eyelid.

[C] is for Cambridge United

I'm a sports fan. Any real sports fan likes to experience the pain as well as the pleasure of following their team. Those glory hunting arseholes who follow the team that wins all of the time just really don't understand the true depth of the sport they follow. Australian leagues for sports don't really allow for much failure. You finish bottom of your ladder? Big deal, don't worry, it's ok because you'll get the best draft picks the following year.

I grew up supporting Liverpool as all young lads in England did during the early 80's. My Dad is a Manchester United fan so my love of all things Liverpool didn't go down too well. By the mid 80's I had discovered Cambridge United, my home town team and by the late 80's I was more of a Cambridge fan than a Liverpool fan.

Cambridge are one of those teams that really excel at the pain side of things. They occasionally experience the pleasures as well just before you're about to die an excrutiating death. And we all go back for more the following year to suffer it all again. There are very few years that Cambridge don't go through a promotion or relegation, or something close to either. They always had that uncanny knack of clutching defeat from the jaws of victory like no other team could manage.

They are a team who have no money, got screwed by one of their owners, were relegated from the Football League to non-league football and almost went into liquidation. They are still going and have just reached the play-offs which might propel them back into the Football League. Despite all of their hassles they are known as one of the big giant-killing clubs in English cup football and were just 90 minutes away from reaching the inaugaral English Premier League which would have completed the rise from bottom division to top in three straight years. Something almost unheard of.

Average home attendances when I used to go were around 3,000 people. I've been to grounds with more than 40,000 people and while those atmospheres have been electric there's still nothing like standing on the cold terraces of The Abbey Stadium with a handful of people, freezing your nuts off and going mental at another pass or shot that went astray. It was never pretty stuff, but it was Cambridge United. The Amber Army. My team.