Fan's tales of travelling woe

Arsenal's journey to the Ukraine for what was effectively a meaningless Champions League match against Shakhtar Donetsk highlights the lengths some fans will go to indulge their passion.

We want to hear about about the disturbing lengths you have gone to following your team. We want to hear you tales of travelling woe.

No-one said it was going to be easy.

Sometimes it seems like a one-sided affair. A lot of effort for little return.

Being a football fan places all sorts of strains on you. It costs you money, swallows up your free-time, drains you mentally and physically.

Like the Gooners faithful, it could be a journey into the unknown of Eastern Europe.

It could be the Tartan Army traipsing to the far reaches of the Faroe Islands.

Or, it could be a dreary dismal away day at Dover.

The trials, the tribulations, the stresses, the pain - we want them all. Whether, domestic, European, International or Intergalatic - tells us your tales of travelling woe.

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Wembley nightmare

For travelling woe, try Wembley (RIP). When Arsenal decided to switch their Champions League games there, I bought a ticket for the game against AIK Solna, not glamorous I know, but the European Cup is the European Cup (sorry but I still prefer to call it that). And my team deserves my support.

So, with the ticket came advice to arrive two hours before kick-off. So I get on the tube at 5pm, kickoff is 7.45. Tube packed with both fellow fans and commuters. Being 5'6'' I inevitably end up with my head wedged into someone's armpit in these situations. Combined with the lack of oxygen this does not make for a pleasant atmosphere. After changing trains at Baker Street (being pushed along the platform along with 80,000 other Gooners) the train up to Wembley is even more packed and at the station only one ticket machine seems to be working so a conductor has to check everyone's ticket. I get into the stadium two hours before kick-off, as instructed. Ask the girl at the refreshments window what beer they have. Am told 'We can't sell beer, Uefa rules'.(The competition is sponsored by Amstel!!). To her credit she finds this stupid too. So make do with a £1.50 can of Sprite.

Come 7.45, I sit half a mile from the pitch, and watch the 1998 Double Winners play like a pub side for 88 minutes. (I was lucky: in most Wembley Euro games we did that for 90 minutes). We scored twice in the last minute and got 3 points. Now all I have to do is get back to central London. There's a thunderstorm outside. 80'000 fans converge on the tube station. After first 100 or so get in the rest are told 'no more room, go to Wembley Park instead'. Traipse there through thunderstorm.Wait ouside for an hour in thunderstorm. (This was the night those two women were struck by lightning in Hyde Park). Get inside. Now 11.30. Train arrives. Various shouts of 'Is this going to Euston/King's Cross/Liverpool Street/Waterloo/Victoria/Neptune'. None of the tube staff know. So don't get on this one like most do, wait for the next (That one was going to somewhere in Hertfordshire as it happened). Next one comes. 'This is going to Euston' I am assured. So get on, and get to Euston at midnight, 2 1/2 hours to go 6 miles, and with 20 mins before the last train home (How long is a flight to the Ukraine?). PLEASE give the new Wembley adequate public transport!!!!
Eddie Lewis, UK

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Wimbledon worry

I don't know why I had to go, I lost my job in the process. Wimbledon away to Sheffield United, Wednesday evening. 0-0, and only 100 or so Womble fans decided to turn up.
Brandon, England

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Dangerous Addicktion

I was on a year's working holiday visa in Australia when my team Charlton Athletic decided to have their best season in years in 1997/98. As the weeks ticked by I decided that if they reached Wembley (the Play-Off Final) I would simply have to go. Frantic travel arrangements were made for the Brisbane-London trip and my (English) boss even gave me the week off work! Everything was all set for the trip of a lifetime...

Except no-one had told the Australian Department of Immigration that. Months before - when making my application for permanent residency in Australia - I had shown the clerk at the Immigration Department my Working Holiday visa. "Can I still travel back to the UK on this Visa?" I asked, "Yeah, sure you can, no worries" replied the clerk. Wrong. "Do you have a re-entry visa for Australia?" asked the Prisoner Cell Block 'H' type at Brisbane International Airport. "Yeah, sure" I said and handed her the previously proffered visa. "This is expired - you won't be able to come back into Australia on this," said the trainee Prison warder.

Now then "this is a test" as Graham Taylor most famously remarked. What was I to do get the (last available) flight to London and see the game or miss the game and make sure that I stayed in Australia? I took the flight...I could sort it all out in London. Wrong again. Arriving in London on the Friday before the game I made straight for Australia House to sort out the Visa situation - they were shut. So the weekend passed and then on to the best day of my life at Wembley in that 4-4 draw with Sunderland before the Aussie keeper Sasa Illic did the business and saved Michael Gray's penalty. I was in heaven - now I had to get back to Brisbane. "There's nothing at all we can do for you," said the oh-so-helpful desk officer at Australia House, "Your working Visa re-entry period is now expired -this visa is now useless." "Can't I get back in on a Holiday visa?" I pleaded. "Aren't you applying for Permanent Residency?" he said, eyeing me like a common criminal (which in days gone by would have got me back no worries at all.) "Yes - is that a problem." "For you it is - if we know you're planning to stay permanently we would reject any visa application you put in."

This was getting worse. It was raining heavily in London whilst in Brisbane I had a) beautiful weather b) my girlfriend c) my job d) my house and belongings and d) my new car. I quickly phoned an Immigration lawyer who told me that I could apply for a holiday visa througha Travel Agent and continue my residency application from Australia. So, I had to spend another UK£650 on a new return ticket (rendering my other return ticket useless) to get back to Australia two weeks later than scheduled. I got a very frosty reception from my girlfriend and my boss. It was a nightmare in some ways but I would not have missed that day at Wembley for anything.
Tony Brown, Australia

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The never-ending road

No matter where you start from. It is a long road to Arbroath.
Pat Lyle, Scotland