Wembley’s deafening roar of silence

If Old Trafford is the Theatre of Dreams, then the still fresh, new Wembley is an even bigger sporting venue to be denied its usual props — and anyone populating front of house.

Flannery’s Bar, which was packed with Pompey fans prior to the EFL final in 2019.

At least Portsmouth and Salford finally bridged the year-long wait to play the 2019-20 EFL (Papa John’s) Trophy final — made moribund by the pandemic.

So the final got to be played, but there was no place for the fans.

Those Pompey supporters who had made the Wembley pilgrimage in 2019 for the same showpiece — on that occasion against Sunderland — had helped set a record attendance of 85,021.

On Saturday, there wasn’t even the 21!

Bellringing Pompey fan John Westwood was not at Wembley to spur his team on against Salford.

There was no fleet of Luckett’s Coaches snaking through Hampshire, London-bound up the A3 and M3.

In 2019, Pompey fans paid £30 for the return trip and the Fareham firm ferried thousands of fans in more than 50 coaches, plus a VIP carriage for the team itself.

There was no familiar thread of Island-based Pompey fans heading for the 8am Wightlink Victoria of Wight Fishbourne ferry — joining the throng, driving to the stadium, scarves flying from windows.

The deserted streets close to the arena.

There were none on the 9am Red Funnel from East Cowes either.

When I got to Wembley this time, there was a kind of a roar...a roaring silence.

No fans spilling out of the nearby overground station — and none from Wembley Central tube.

The pubs and bars Pompey fans might have expected to take over — based on their 2019 experience — were barred and shuttered.

Former County Press features editor, Bill Bradshaw, on a piece of deserted street adjacent to Wembley Way.

The green and gold of Flannery’s Irish bar on Wembley’s High Road looked a little less lustrous. There was no raucous carousing, no singing here.

There is usually a fan zone, of course. In 2019, Pompey’s was at the Events Pad, on Wembley Park Boulevard.

This time, the fan zone was splintered into tens of thousands of living rooms with families watching the game on TV.

No chants, no jostling, no groups with arms linked for that obligatory picture on Wembley Way, or at the foot of Bobby Moore’s statue.

The loss to Salford proved to be the final nail in the coffin for Pompey boss Kenny Jackett after almost four years at the helm. Photo: PA

I sniffed, straining for the doubtful pleasure of grilling burgers or sausages. Nothing, zilch, nada. Not even a hint of a pizza bar to please Papa John’s the sponsors.

Not a single assault on the senses — whether it be visual, aural or olfactory.

So the build-up was one fat void. But, of course, the senses of Pompey fans were eventually assailed, courtesy of TV — transmitting the awful reality their side’s recent flaccid league form could not be artificially spiked for this showpiece, albeit one played out in a vacuum.

It proved the tipping point for manager Kenny Jackett’s tenuous hold on his job — replaced this week by former Lincoln City boss, Danny Cowley.

Salford’s victory, 4-2 on penalties, was a deserved one given their superiority over the previous 120 minutes.

But cup finals, of course, should never be played out behind closed doors.

The only saving grace for Pompey fans is they were spared the heartache of a Wembley performance to forget.