EDITOR’S PERSPECTIVE: A step too far for the Souvenir Man

YOU have to be a special kind of person to follow Plymouth Argyle — and in lots of ways many of their fans are.

Travelling 300 miles to Sheffield Wednesday on a wet Tuesday November night for instance, then back afterwards, potentially having to take two days off work, well, let’s be polite and call it dedication.

Then there’s the cost. The ticket, the transport, possibly a stay over, a meal or two, a few pints and the money you may end up spending in the opposition club’s souvenir shop. Well, some people might.

I first met him, him being Souvenir Man, at Sincil Bank, the home of Lincoln City Football Club.

It was an FA Cup tie and he parked his backside on a seat in the row behind me, losing little time in opening up a large carrier bag sporting the home club’s Imp symbol.

After much kerfuffle, huffs and puffs, he fished out a duvet cover in the design of the home club.

Why would you? Fair enough, buy a badge or something to mark your trip with — but a duvet cover?

If anyone, except his mum ever made it into his bedroom — a burglar, for instance — they could be forgiven for thinking he was a massive fan of the club. And you wouldn’t want that.

He was in his 50s, maybe older, and proceeded to commentate on the action or lack of, various verbal nuggets including “You need to shoot to score, Argyle”, and “After 20 minutes it’s nil-nil and there’s not much difference between the sides”.

The droning on about pasties and “zider” in a ridiculous Westcountry accent went on through the entire game — well, I assume it did, as at half-time I moved.

I didn’t see him again for a while — Doncaster away, in fact.

Calling in at a hostelry for pre-match refreshment, some Argyle fans asked how long it took us to get there. “About 20 minutes,” I said. “Fly, did you? It took us seven hours.”

And there he was, Souvenir Man, sitting at a table talking to another bloke. “He’s got a mate,” I said. “Oh no, he hasn’t, he’s just talking to himself. The other bloke doesn’t know him.”

Which brings me to a real problem faced by away supporters of that particular team.

You’re looking forward to the match, it’s a long way, but never mind. You get on the coach, say hello to the nice bloke with his lunch neatly packed up in a Lincoln City carrier bag. Then he starts talking and never stops — for the entire seven hours.

Then you can’t shake him for the pre-match drink, the game itself or the whole journey back, when he’s telling you about his collection of memorabilia. You never go again.

In this case he’d already been to the souvenir shop and picked up a Doncaster Rovers scarf, polo shirt (that get-up should prove popular on a Saturday night out on Plymouth Barbican) and, judging by the shape of the bag, duvet cover.

How much money has Souvenir Man got? How much patience has the chap who sat with him on the coach, in the pub and presumably during the game got?

I might never know the answer to that first question because I’ve never seen him again.

He used to go to every game — the other guy still does — but not any more. Not to any games. Ever.

It got me thinking... I’m not the suspicious type but, should my misgivings about the possible actions of his maybe not so patient “friend” be confirmed, club souvenir shops up and down the country will be closing their doors for good having over-stocked on their new ranges of matching duvet cover and pillow case sets.