Liverpool County Combination 1 Mid Cheshire League 0

26nov05
FA National League System Cup 2nd Round
Liverpool County FA Ground, Walton Hall Park, Liverpool
att. 65 (approx)

Ah the magic of the cup, a phenomenon spoken of in hushed tones for many years. Essentially, the magic of a Football Association administered knockout tournament that provides entry into European competition. That is the bare bones of it really, but it is a phrasing that no longer applies just to the glorious old FA Challenge Cup.

The UEFA Regions Cup was inaugurated in 1999, with the first English side appearing 2 years later. From 12 applicants the FA put forward the Kent County League as their representatives for 2002/03, but from the following year UEFA required that only the winner of a National Regional competition could enter, which galvanised the FA into creating the National League System Cup and, sadly, put paid to the keenly contested games of ‘Operation’ between the league secretaries at Soho Square.

The basic tenet of the UEFA Regions Cup, and therefore the FA NLS Cup, is that it should be contested by players who have not held a professional contract at any point in their careers. Therefore the FA restricts the competition to the 42 leagues at the highest level of senior amateur football (Level 11 in the great scheme of things, if you think of the Premiership down – see here), of which 22 took part in the initial 2003/04 contest.

Here at the Liverpool County FA’s ground, today’s 2nd round NLS Cup contest pits the Liverpool County Combination, who overcame the Manchester Football League in the previous round 3-0 (aet) to get here, against the Mid-Cheshire League, who got a bye into this round by virtue of winning the Cup last time out.

The Cheshire boys eventually turned out as the England National Amateur XI in the Central West Group of the UEFA Regions Cup Preliminary Round in Slovenia during September 2004, winning the group which included their hosts, Northern Ireland and Malta. This put them into the Intermediary Round Group 4 which took place 2 months later in Bosnia-Herzegovina and despite victories over Bosnia and San Marino, their defeat to the Republic of Ireland proved to be the end of their road, the Irish going on to the tournament finals in Poland this past June.

As a result of this experience, there has been a wider uptake for this year’s contest, with 30 entries from the Pyramid along with sides from Guernsey, Jersey and the Isle of Man, and no doubt the Mid Cheshire League side would be keen to repeat their European adventure.

It was noticeable from the squad lists that both sides were fairly reliant on players from just 4 of their leagues respective constituent teams. The County Combination calling up several from Bootle and South Liverpool but mainly Speke and Waterloo Dock. Similarly the Mid-Chesh fellas come only from Crosfields, Greenalls Padgate, Witton Albion Reserves and Monk Sports. You have to wonder whether this a result of the old pal’s act, or possibly the gaffers of Aigburth People’s Hall, Linotype & Cheadle Heath Nomads and the like throwing Wengeresque hissy-fits about releasing players for international qualifiers prior to the important Christmas period.

Either way, both sides play like they know each other reasonably well, but not perhaps well enough and the standard betrays the resolutely amateur ethic of the cup. As such a lot of belted aimless passes drift out for goal kicks and chances, a goal-line clearance from the LCC XI aside, are few and far between in the first half which does however spark into life towards the break as entanglement on the M-CL touchline rolls into a scuffle. The ref, who has a pretty good game by-the-by, is content to metaphorically clip them round the ear.

The Liverpool County FA’s ground makes up part of a sporting facility that will more regularly be used by co-tenants the Liverpool School’s FA. Mind you if there is a clash, an identical pitch runs alongside the one in use today, the position of terracing, dug-outs and fencing mono-zygotically twinned. Perhaps the next door pitch is being prepared for spin, although this one is certainly no high-scoring surface and it takes a spot-kick to separate the sides, with the ‘home’ XI making the most of a penalised push in the back.

The Mid-Cheshire League will feel aggrieved that not only did they fail to make the most of their better attacking play but that the referee’s one glaring error was to come in not awarding a free-kick their way for a flicked back-pass in the 6-yard box. As a result, we will be looking for a new ‘England’ in the next UEFA Regions Cup. The record of Liverpudlian teams in Europe is reportedly quite reasonable, so maybe the reds will go all the way, beating the Anglian Combination on penalties in the final after trailing 3-0 at half time. Similar things have happened.

As a side issue, I should point out that I was pleased to be part of a crowd, many of whom were supporting a Liverpool side, which respected a minute’s silence for George Best this weekend. Although this minute’s applause idea may indeed be a better bet in more populous arenas in the future. Liverpool people are certainly passionate about their football though, as was confirmed for me as I walked home. I passed Fletch’s Sports Bar in Wavertree and noticed the faces of several weather-beaten ‘regular’-looking chaps gazing transfixed at the wall. Aha, watching the Portsmouth v Chelsea game no doubt, I thought, turning round to discover The X-Factor on the big screen.

Road to UEFA Regions Cup:
F: Cambridgeshire County League 0 Isle of Man League 4
SF: Cambridgeshire County League 3 Guernsey Prilaux League 3 (CCL won 4-2 on pens)
3R: Cambridgeshire County League 2 Liverpool County 2 (4-3 pens)
2R: Liverpool County Combination 1 Mid-Cheshire 0
1R: Liverpool County Combination 3 Manchester Football League 0 aet

Bishop's Stortford 1 Havant & Waterlooville 3

19nov05
Conference South
Woodside Park, Bishop’s Stortford
att. 307

My increased volume of appearances as the partisan rather than as hobo this year has largely been made possible by the existence of ‘fun fares’ on London-routed coaches. Get in early enough on the web-site and very nice prices can be found. I have been known, such as last week in fact, to get to and from the capital for 2 quid return. 80p less than it cost me to get the bus from my house to the coach station and back, an 8 mile round trip.

This time I had to shell out a mammoth £12 for the coaches, in addition to a tenner on the train. Never balked at paying that kind of money on away travel when I lived in Havant, and I’m not going to now. All it takes is the willingness to commit to a 5am start and an 18 hour day, 11 of which will be spent trying to squeeze a 6’4” frame into National Express seating. Not that I’m trying to earn points for martyrdom here, I ain’t after a medal. Besides Saturdays are fairly quiet on the coaches so I usually get to spread over 2 seats, and can catch up on kip quite easily. Also in the loyalty stakes, my departure north would certainly handicap me somewhat.

However the cliché is that following your team through thick and thin is always worth it, but as many will know, it sometimes doesn’t feel like it, whether that be through a bad result, a lifeless game or a negative, overly aggressive atmos on the terraces (although I don’t doubt that makes a day out for some).

The point is though for all those times, there are the others, the games when all the pieces fit. Today, I am very happy to say, was one of those games. I’ve not had as good a time at an H&W game in quite a while. The right result, a decent game and a great, positive atmosphere on the terraces behind the goal. Indeed, our behind–the-goal regulars have now taken to mimicking the players’ huddle prior to kick off, and the group hug dynamic seems to work just effectively on concrete steps as it does on centre-circle grass. WIN WIN freaking’ WIN, people!

It is a simple correlation though as despite a couple of blips, we have not looked as settled and as confident a side since our FA Trophy semi-final run in 2002/3 and even then it papered over warning cracks in our league form that had dipped sharply from the season before. The last 2 or 3 seasons as a whole have been ridden with disappointment but the changes I understand Ian Baird has made in terms of incentive payments outweighing basic wage has put a little extra motivation into loading up the player’s post-match pockets. Perhaps their wallets’ weighing them down was the problem before.

As such the positive atmosphere spreads to the supporters and it was tremendous fun today particularly, and with plenty to get excited about on the field. We opened the scoring early, Brett Poate scoring a typically solid but graceful strike from the edge of the box inside the near post (as seen in the photo below, shame the ball crept beneath shot before the shutter snapped though). 10 minutes after Bishop’s Stortford were harshly reduced to 10 men but despite our sustained pressure, they managed an equalizer on 27 minutes as we got caught cold at the back in what was an otherwise pretty flawless display from our back four.

Despite going into half-time on level terms, we were never worried, our man Simon suggested prophetically that “this has got 3-1 written all over it”. It took a second controversial incident for us to regain the upper hand however as Rocky Baptiste’s side foot push towards an empty net vacated by a beaten keeper was interrupted by a prostrate defender’s arm. The question of whether or not it was deliberate is a difficult one to answer, but there is no doubt that his limb prevented a goal-scoring opportunity, nay, a goal. As such a penalty was the result and merely a booking for the man on the ground, with both sides arguing that if it was deliberate than it was a red-card, if it wasn’t then it shouldn’t have been a penalty. To my mind, the referee took the sensible course of action in not punishing Stortford twice, or punishing us by not allowing us a chance to finish our opportunity. Rocky put the spot-kick away easily past the keeper’s slightly premature dive.

Not long after Brett Poate pretty much ended any doubts with yet another trademark corker not dissimilar to his first. Ian Baird has recently remarked that if Brett believed in his ability, he wouldn’t be playing for us, or indeed in the Conference South. Today, the truth in that observation was abundantly clear. Long may he have self-esteem issues! We have often remarked in the last couple of seasons that we have never properly replaced our midfield legends Tim Hambley and Paul Wood, but with Poate and Robbie Pethick doing sterling work along the flanks just now, as well as Guy Lopez da Cruz looking strong in the centre, perhaps that observation will die away. Also the fact that we have not had to hang any hat of resigned ennui on the peg of Dean Holdsworth’s departure, indeed his name is rarely mentioned, tells its own story. Rocky Baptiste is a player that has been reborn with us. All of this suggests Ian Baird’s strict but fair motivational technique that is based on performance and commitment is certainly working wonders.

My mile and a half run to that station means I miss the injury-time minutes but no further goals, and I am followed by the strains of the Hawkmob breaking into Showaddywaddy’s ‘Under The Moon Of Love’. This is our party song, our victory-with-class standard, and to hear it again after, frankly, too long just rounded things off in sonic style, encapsulating how I feel today. Joyous, exhilarated and confident.

Despite January and February being famous for dramatic form troughs in the past we currently sit in 3rd place and look, I should whisper this, genuine play-off contenders. This thought puts the needed spring in my stride as I speed to the station, making the train with a minute to spare. The thing with the fun fares is they are only on selected coaches and the latest of the Liverpool bound options is the 18:30 which gives only about 90 minutes to get from near enough Stansted airport (seems after Yeading, I am favouring the flight-path away games) to Victoria coach station. What is life without risk though? Risk, a shortness of breath and a stitch? In keeping with the day, the Stansted Express and the tube don’t let me down.

Oldham Athletic 4 Chasetown 0

16nov05
FA Cup 1st Round replay
Boundary Park, Oldham
att. 7,235

A fair amount of twitchy bravado, in the form of condescension, no doubt cropped up in North Manchester prior to the first game in this Cup tie and since then the Oldham followers will no doubt have been keeping up the normality pretence in the face of increasingly noticeable soggy-logs collecting in their socks. It couldn’t REALLY happen could it? It took a goal from Methuselah, ‘David Ayres’ to his mates, to spare their blushes in the initial contest, but surely home advantage would sort out the men from the err.. other men, the Johnny 2-Jobs from somewhere near Walsall? So might be the pre-match thinking inside Latic heads.

So, as they sit for the first half hour of this replay without the expected goal-fest, they begin to get a little restless. Their chants of ‘who are ya?’ though are as much about genuine perplexity as they are clichéd terrace antagonism. There is certainly clear confusion as to their opponent’s status, with one bellowed guess “…you fucking pub team” clashing with the excitably vocal young lady next to me who cries incredulously “we can’t lose to a Conference side?”

A League One side succumbing to a Conference beating may well bring a hint of shame, but these days it is a delicate hue, and to call it a shock would be stretching hyperbolic tabloidese somewhat. However being taken to a replay by a side 133 places beneath should, you would think, make snorts of derision about your opponents in the programme for said rerun, a little inadvisable particularly considering the Cup’s propensity for the upsetting of odds (and blinkered followers of Football League clubs).

However, a ‘fans-day-out-to-Chasetown’ style report in Oldham’s glossy brochure reads like a checklist for a Mark-Lawrenson-on-early-rounds-of-the-Cup-coverage drinking game.

Thankfully for the egg-primed face of the author, it’s probable pinning to the wall of the Chasetown dressing room can only keep Oldham at bay for so long, but in 2 of the 4 cases it takes real belting long-range strikes to get the beating of the Scholars and it is only their expected and understandable tiring that allows Oldham to make it anything close to easy.

Considering the lack of full-time training, and the fact that it was the 9th game of their protracted cup run (which has played havoc with their league fixture backlog), you can certainly forgive them for looking dead on their feet comes the 65th minute. They never give up though and cannot fail to have been inspired by the 2,436 strong away support (taking a fairly impressive 1900% of their average home league gate). Sadly an Oldham chant of ‘Is that all you take away?’ isn’t forthcoming. However the heavy away throng does remark of the subdued Oldham turnout “you’re supposed to be at home”, many of those joining possibly less than a 100% sure where exactly where ‘their’ home actually is. Not that the Chasetown regulars should be worried about that. It is the nature of the non-league follower to continually bleat about the lack of support in the locality, but to get sniffy about it, mentioning bandwagons and such, when a load do turn up en masse.

Who knows what the hardcore thought about the loud take up of the “Chasetown ‘til I die” chant, but it certainly has the same double-edged timbre as Kevin Pietersen locking lips with the lions on his helmet badge. Hopefully though this cup run will inspire more regular support even if only from another 50 or so, as with the money earned from this adventure mean Chasetown are a club who can afford to think on with ambition.

Another noticeable comment from the Oldham throng is “you’re just a town full of doggers”. Now I’ve always liked that term to describe the dogged, tough-tackling players before it was high-jacked by the voyeuristic exhibitionists of this world. That said in its original form, it wouldn’t apply in this case as Chasetown have certainly not been a bunch of heavies hacking their way to underdog glory.

It’s fair to say then it probably the more contemporary meaning is implied, as I hear Stan Collymore lives in the Walsall area. It seems a little unlikely though that a big away cup replay is the only thing that can bring the Chasetown population together outside of regular socials in a dimly-lit car-park.

Road to Cardiff:
F: West Ham 3 Liverpool 3 [Liverpool win 3-1 on pens] (att. 74,000) [BBC]
SF: Middlesbrough 0 West Ham United 1 (att. 39,148) [BBC]
QFr: Middlesbrough 4 Charlton Athletic 2 (att. 30,248) [BBC]
QF: Charlton Athletic 0 Middlesbrough 0 (att. 24,187) [BBC]
5R: Charlton Athletic 3 Brentford 1 (att. 22,098) [BBC]
4R: Brentford 2 Sunderland 1 (att. 11,698) [BBC]
3R: Stockport County 2 Brentford 3 (att. 4,078) [BBC]
2Rr: Brentford 1 Oldham Athletic 0 (att. 3,146) [BBC]
2R: Oldham Athletic 1 Brentford 1 (att. 4,365) [BBC]
1Rr: Oldham Athletic 4 Chasetown 0 [BBC]
1R: Chasetown 1 Oldham Athletic 1 (att. 1,997) [BBC]
4QRr: Chasetown 1 Blyth Spartans 0 (att. 2,134)
4QR: Blyth Spartans 2 Chasetown 2 (att. 926)
3QRr: Chasetown 4 Cogenhoe United 3 aet (att. 382)
3QR: Cogenhoe United 1 Chasetown 1 (att. 184)
2QRr: Belper Town 1 Chasetown 4 (att. 154)
2QR: Chasetown 3 Belper Town 3 (att. 167)
1QR: Chasetown 2 Gedling Town 1 (att. 76)
PR: Chasetown 2 Causeway United 0 (att. 111)

Links:
Chasetown website
Oldham Athletic website

Enfield Town 1 Redbridge 1

12nov05
FA Trophy 2nd Qualifying Round
Brimsdown Sports & Social Club, Brimsdown
att. 268

So why are WE here? I philosophise not on the ascent of man to the cogent and vertebral, but on why 268 souls should be at the home of Spartan League Brimsdown Rovers, when the Rovers themselves, are not.

That can be traced to either June 2001 or September 1999, depending on who you ask. The Town followers would no doubt tell you that it was the former, when Enfield FC (twice winners of both the FA Trophy and the Alliance/Conference in the 80s, most significantly in 1985/86, the year before automatic promotion to the Football League) rendered themselves nomadic upon the sale of their Southbury Road ground and took up a groundshare deal with Hertfordshire-based Boreham Wood, from where they have since moved to Wodson Park. From despair to Ware (FC).

I’ve no doubt that those in charge of the original Enfield, with a degree of hurt and abandonment still echoing in their voices, would tell you that the Enfield Suppporters’ Trust breaking away to form their own club 2 years after was the key. It is clear though that the main body of support were behind the split, as Town’s crowds are more than double that of its asexually reproductive mother club.

An easy comparison can be made now as this year, for the first time, the clubs meet in the same league competition, the Southern League Division One East. The two clubs have met competitively in the FA Vase however, with Enfield FC taking the upper hand, preening like Darth Vader over a stricken Luke, revelling in their upsetting, but undeniable, parentage.

However in the whole scheme of the clubs’ histories, it is clear that while one has severely weakened, the other moves from strength to strength, Town winning the Essex Senior League twice in the process of doing up the Brimsdown ground to Southern League standard. Now there in the same season as Enfield have hauled themselves back up from the nadir of Isthmian League Division 2, the early running has been made by the young club, lying 3rd while Enfield lag in 14th place.

Today’s Trophy tie represents another test of how far Town have come as Redbridge come from the Isthmian Premier and therefore one step higher. Known as Ford United until the start of last season, owing to a long association with the car manufacturer and playing at their Sports & Social Club ground, Redbridge changed their name so as to encourage more support in their locality. This despite actually playing in Ilford, moving to the Oakside Stadium in 2000 with previous leasees, now tenants, Barkingside FC.

Needless to say it hasn’t worked thus far, as they averaged not much more than a hundred punters a game last year having scraped into the first season of the Conference South, albeit mostly anchored to the bottom of it, utilising over 70 players during the course of a poor campaign. Not that they made it easy on themselves, one of their 11 wins achieved with an illegible player and thus ultimately for no points. If I tell you I was at the game in question that might give you some clue as to whom that pointless win was achieved against. And no, the points ripped from their grasp were not shoved upon our own, at that stage, meagre tally. More’s the pity.

Redbridge have this season endeavoured to follow up last season’s ghost-train with something genuinely frightening, as this even more gory sequel currently again finds them in the messy, unkempt bowels of their division, with 3 points from 14 games and precisely zero wins.

In those circumstances you might forgive a complete absence of an away following today but they are here, about 10 of them (which I guess being roughly 10% of their home gate could well be above the Ryman travellin' average), in good spirits, one chap tossing a coin in lieu of a result prediction. “Heads we win, tails we lose then”, he states. “...Tails...mmm...I’ll toss it again”. They come armed with a gaggle of excitable urchins who utilise the hollowness of the prefab terrace to pound out a ramshackle percussive undercurrent to the one kid’s shrill “Red-bridge” mantra in an interpretive dance style, before one older follower shows them the more tried and tested technique of using the side of a fist to create a more homogeneous sound on the thin metal of the back wall. The children have no interest in uniformity, to their credit, and save their freak-jazz for another occasion, while the adults unfurl, for some reason, a Scottish flag with ‘Redbridge FC’ scribbled in frenzied biro along one half of its otherwise pristine saltire.


They have plenty to keep them in reasonable cheer as the first half belongs to their side, if not emphatically so. Both teams struggle with the oiliness of the surface, an Enfield defender forced at one point into a defensive header despite his hands, knees and the ball all sliding backwards along the deck. On 32 minutes comes Redbridge’s first real chance, a long dipping shot scooped over by the keeper. However when the corner is swung over, the Town defence stays rigid allowing Dave Whattley to make an excellent run to meet the ball with his head and divert it across keeper Andy Hall and in.

While their keeper has to make an athletic stretch to keep out a spooning ball near half-time, the remainder of the half is largely played out to a series of injuries, three sets of handbag drawing incidents and the sound of a neon-clad steward battering a neighbouring fence in a seemingly futile attempt to alert the homeowner to a stray match-ball amongst the dead, fallen leaves that have gathered beneath their skeletal tree.

If Redbridge have shaded the first half, the momentum is clearly with the home side in the second, with wave after wave of attack. Twice the ball is put into the net from open play, but neither is allowed to stand due to infringements upon keeper and defender. Between these incidents though they do get some reward for their valiant efforts as a penalty is awarded and then deposited by Rudi Hall just hard enough so as to bend back the fingers of the unfortunate Redbridge goalkeeper Dean O’Neal.

This is the way it remains until the final whistle, delayed 10 minutes by the first half rough-house shenanigans. While the game slides toward a draw, a steward’s attention is drawn to a mate and his infant-school aged daughter. She is told by the steward “You don’t get your good looks from your father”. “He’s my best friend”, she protests. “He’s my fah-ther” she continues, comically with finishing school deportment. “He’s my great Lord” she concludes, overstretching the point somewhat. Fahther is laughing, baffled and slightly embarrassed by such emphasis on the Daddy-daughter bond, while the steward chortles “When you’re 13, come back here and tell me the same thing!!”. Without a suitable insult to hand, nipper results to Dadaism, “when you’re 62, my Dad will be born”. Dad pauses, eyebrow raised, and says “you’re weird!”. I’d call it a work of come-back genius myself.

Road to Upton Park:
F: Woking 0 Grays Athletic 2 (att. 13,997) [BBC]
SFl2: Woking 2 Boreham Wood 0 (att. 2,080)
SFl1: Boreham Wood 0 Woking 1 (att. 1,511)
4Rr: Stafford Rangers 2 Woking 4 (att. 1,781)
4R: Woking 1 Stafford Rangers 1 (att. 2,020)
3R: Woking 3 Welling United 2 (att. 1,244)
2R: Blyth Spartans 1 Welling United 3 (att. 784)
1R: Welling United 4 Redbridge 1 (att. 415)
3QRr: Harrow Borough 2 Redbridge 3 aet (att. 186)
3QR: Redbridge 1 Harrow Borough 1 (att. 94)
2QRr: Redbridge 2 Enfield Town 1 (att. 172)
2QR: Enfield Town 1 Redbridge 1
1QR: Banstead Athletic 1 Redbridge 2 (att. 64)
1QR: Enfield Town 3 Berkhamstead Town 0
Links
Enfield Town website
Redbridge website

Havant & Waterlooville 1 Cambridge City 1

29oct05
Conference South
Westleigh Park, Havant
att. 474

Two consecutive H&W games, this is Easter weekend form from your hobo. However being a game at our spit n' sawdust drinking den of dreams, our happy home that's been a path trodden over 150 times, this weekend is the hobo's day off. Pics and over-elaboration about terrace banter and the contents of local shops will return next week! It's hard to be objective about your home town. Havant made me, read into that what you will.

So I shall simply say this. 1-1 was a fair result and a good one against a very decent Cambridge City side. They scored after 49 minutes and Rocky Baptiste squeezed an equaliser between keeper's hand and post thanks in part to a defensive deflection 12 minutes later.

Lots of chances at either end but both sides will probably accept a point. I certainly will as a draw ain't a defeat and that represents continued progress now the jinx monkey has lept off my back.

Those who wish to see some action pics from WLP can go back in time here or have a look at Extreme Groundhopper's panorama.