Don’t mention the score: capturing Wembley the night before the final

By Jon Horner, the man behind all of AFR’s wonderful comics, writing from London

To me, Wembley stadium is a magical place. And look, that’s me to the left, standing in the tunnel at Wembley! Crazy. 

In 1994, aged seven, I saw my first ever proper football match. It was the FA Cup final and Man United, in their splendid lacey-collared shirts, beat Chelsea 4-0 in the stadium where England had once lifted the World Cup. And that’s why I support Man United. I watched it on TV with my Dad who, with the precision, skill and timing of Andrei Kanchelskis at his very best, managed to be asleep as every single goal went in, despite me waking him up to see each replay.

Not long after that I saw my first live football match. Again, it was with my Dad and, again, the match took place at Wembley. It was a junior match between England and France and I managed to, quite spectacularly, catch chicken pox the very next day.  But then those absolute brutes pulled down the twin towers, turfed up the greyhound track and, with all the pace of Neville Southall, whacked a monstrous shiny arch in its place. 

Because I am extremely lucky, those fine ladies and gents at Heineken sponsoring the tournament took me and a few other bloggers to the new Wembley on the day before the Champions League final to mooch around, look in wonder at the players and pinch ourselves every couple of minutes. I took a few photos to make ensure the afternoon was real, and to share with you of course. Here it is. Pretty magical, right?

These are MY FEET! Standing on the pitch at Wembley! Well, standing on the fake grass that runs round the outside of the pitch. Still pretty cool though.

IMPORTANT FACT: Just before you get to the tunnel there is a toilet, just in case anyone forgot to go before they got here, although I did ask before we left the house and you said you didn’t need the loo, didn’t you? Now you have to run because you’re desperate. Next time remember to go before you come out and we won’t have this problem.

A warning! The next sentence, when read in relation to the last picture, contains a pun. This pun was accidental, but I think I’m going to leave it in anyway because I quite like puns. You have been warned. Here is the sentence: Inside the bowels of the stadium is where a lot of the action was on Friday. OK. The pun has happened. It was quite poor, but as I said going into this mess, it was purely accidental. Now let’s all move on with our lives. Here’s the red carpet not looking quite as illustrious as it usually does.

When you’re preparing to broadcast the biggest football match of the year you need something to help you relax. What could be better than a lovely spot of darts? It certainly is the sport of kings. Not to mention the king of sports.

Apparently the leads in this circuit board thingy control all the TV feeds, so if someone yanked one out then no one in the world would be able to see the match. Pretty crazy, right? Hey, if a Barcelona winger dives in the woods and no one can see a replay, was he fouled? It’s a puzzler.

AWFUL JOKE TIME: I knew the Barcelona team are short but this is ridiculous! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Yeah, I got to watch the teams train. What of it? I totally wasn’t as excited as a four year old at Christmas.

Rio! Do a pelvic thrust!

I got this close to Wayne Rooney. His neck is the same width as his head. I hope his brain doesn’t slip down into his thorax.

Me: “I used to have a little plastic model of you. It had a massive head”

Andy Cole: *Stony silence*

Let’s play a little game of ‘point to the best footballer in the world’

I like this dude. I’m not sure exactly why. He kind of looks like a wrestler, but a wrestler who’s on his way to meet his girlfriend’s parents for the first time. They’re going to have a barbecue and he and Stacey’s (that’s his girlfriend’s name) Dad will bond over techniques for marinating meat. Stacey’s Mum will roll her eyes playfully and exchange a look with Stacey, and they will both tut and say ‘men!’ in unison and laugh.

Arty shot because I’m an arty kinda guy.

Before the game on Saturday I went to the fan thing in Hyde Park. While I was there I found Barcelona’s secret weapon.

Sadly, this was about as close as the real Rooney got to the trophy too. But let’s not talk about the match, it will just make me sad.

Heineken are absolute legends for setting this up and taking me along. I had an insanely cool day and so did the little eight year old that lives inside me. Eww! Not like that! I meant the little boy I used to be not some easily confused sugar-crazed orpha… not in a Michael Jackson way! You people make me sick. Good day to you all.