By
Andy
Leaving
the Sentinel, we followed the crowd towards the bright lights
of Bramall Lane. We had already attempted to complete the pubs around the ground once before, but on that occasion we had visited on a non-matchday, so a couple of the lesser venues were closed (why
bother opening for two customers on Thursday when you're guaranteed
500 on Saturday?)
After
pussyfooting about at the
Sentinel (a full 400 yards away from the stadium), our next
stop was the Cricketers (approximately 5 yards away). Along the way
though, we encountered a familiar problem: food. Having not eaten at
the Sentinel because it was too busy, we were heading to venues where
the 'menu' is a choice between salt & vinegar or cheese & onion.
Blissfully,
we encountered Kosta's, a Greek takeaway on the corner of Shoreham
Street. They even boasted a range of 'football wraps', packed with
meat, salad and chips (apparently it's a Greek delicacy). Always keen
to sample new cuisines (keener still to stuff our faces with
greasy food), we promptly ordered two Chicken Souvlaki wraps.
As
they were being made, it came to my attention that in a small glass
frame behind the counter, taking pride-of-place, was the
unmistakeable work of my dad.
A
bit of background information: my dad is a journalist.
Somewhere
along the way though, his career path went awry, and instead of
becoming the BBC's Middle Eastern correspondent, he found himself
performing the equally important journalistic duty of writing
takeaway reviews for a local newspaper.
I
knew I had to act quickly. It was time to dust off a classic trick I
had first learnt at school: make friends with the people who serve
you food.
“My
dad wrote that,” I announced, unprompted. I might even have shown
him my ID to flaunt the matching surnames.
“Giorgos!
Get down here!” shouted my server through a back door I hadn't even
noticed.
After
a quick conversation in Greek, the staff members rushed over.
“Tell
your dad he is a hero! Before this article, no one in Sheffield knew
of Kosta's, after this I had to hire more staff!” said the first,
clasping my hand with excitement.
“If
your dad comes down here he has free food, any day, any time,”
announced the other. “Free food for life!”
The
contrast between my dad's iconic status in Kosta's and our own abysmal attempt to boost publicity for the Sentinel
was not lost on me.
Our
connections meant not only did we receive the food for free, but we
had to decline goody bags (“give these to your dad”), as I was
unsure how the patrons of the local pubs would greet two newcomers
carrying hummus and tzatziki.
With
fond farewells, we set off to the Cricketers' Arms, munching our
wraps along the way (they were fantastic). The Cricketers is a small
pub (particularly so on matchdays), directly opposite the football
ground. Predictably, the insides were covered in United
paraphernalia, documenting the club's history. The drinks on offer
were consistent with a landlord who knows that people will drink at
the venue regardless.
We
went for Stones Cold, which at least is cheaper than its competitors.
The pub was exactly what I was expecting: fine if you want a quick
pint before the game, pointless to visit for any other reason.
I
try to say something nice about every pub we attend, so here's my
compliment for the Cricketers' Arms: it pleases me that they haven't
changed the pub's name (cricket was last held at Bramall Lane in
1975). In that sense the pub is a relic of Bramall Lane's past, and
its name has no doubt confused a few away fans over the years.
Not
that I'd recommend away fans drink in the Cricketers...
Pub:
Cricketers' Arms (106 Bramall Lane, S2 4RD)
Rating:
4/10
Pint:
Stones Cold
Brewery:
Molson Coors Brewing Company (Tadcaster, North Yorkshire)
NEXT UP: Visionary thinking, at Sheaf House...
NEXT UP: Visionary thinking, at Sheaf House...
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