This was to be the third time I’d seen Airdrie this season and we were yet to pick up a point. Here we were, at the arse end of the season, knowing that a result here would leave us in pole position going into the final game of the regular season against Berwick, who officially are so shite it’s unbelievable, and a play-off spot would be ours.  Hoorah!

As you can see, a capacity crowd squeezed into Airdrie’s Excelsior Stadium for this crunch game. Actually, much like most 2nd Division teams with a decent stadium, they stick everyone in the same stand so the 1,000 souls who can be bothered end up looking onto an otherwise empty stadium, which creates an unusual atmosphere. Anyone who’s gone to see Queens Park will know exactly what I’m talking about … 500 people in a 50,000 stadium makes you feel like part of the press pack awaiting a new signing or manager. Or in the wrong place.

Anyway, it was a decent enough game; plenty of heart, not so much in the way of speed or talent, with the exception of Kyle McAuley who was magnificent today. Apparently, his mom’s a bitch but you can’t have everything.

The day was somewhat complicated by the fact that my missus and her sister were off getting pampered at Stobo Castle. Brother-in-law, Kevin, and myself agreed to share taxi duties as neither of the women can drive and my initial intention was to take them down, even though it would be an early start, with Kev doing the return trip. As it turned out, Kev was glory-hunting at Celtic Park while I was in Airdrie so I decided to have a check on to make sure we were doing this in the most sensible way. As it turned out, the results provided more surprises than the football.

First, I checked to see how long it would take to get from Airdrie to Stobo. I reckoned about an hour. Multimap had other ideas.

58 miles, says Multimap. Well, that’ll take you 1hr 39 mins. Eh? 58 miles? 100 minutes? And I don’t know if you can see this, but 16 miles were due to be on the A74(M) where surely I could bump the average speed to above 35 mph? No, no, you must’ve got it wrong, Mr Multimap. And sure enough, after closer inspection of the detailed route, it had. It had me missing Carluke which didn’t seem anything like the best way. So I put in via Carluke and asked it to have another wee think to itself.

The initial progress of shaving nearly 20 miles from the journey was quickly pissed on when I realised that this saving was going to cost me another 10 mins on! This was ridiculous. So I decided to see if Kev was better placed. He was going to be further west but judging by the two results I’d had so far, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Multimap, which I suspected of being drunk, had reckoned on his journey being 20 miles and taking minus six-and-a-half minutes.

With that in mind, I’m not sure how I should react to the actual result:

You know, I’ve often thought that the best way to get to the Scottish Borders from Glasgow is via London. And now, I have proof.

So I phoned Kev to say maybe it would be a better idea if he took the womenfolk down to their pampering session in the morning and I picked them up in the evening, as if we did it in reverse, he wouldn’t get them back home to Alloa until eight o’clock tomorrow morning. He agreed.

The game finished 1-1.

Moan The Wasps!