Fisher Athletic 3 Havant & Waterlooville 3

28apr07
Conference South
Champion Hill Stadium, Dulwich
att. 223

sixth in a series of despatches from the play-off push

This past Friday, a documentary providing an overview of Noel Scott Engel (a.k.a Scott Walker)’s progression from teen idol to reclusive sonic adventurist of the musical avant-garde, was put on limited release in British cinemas. I went to see it. We all have our ways of preparing for the final whoosh of the play-off push. I imagine the Havant & Waterlooville players spent their Friday evening perusing through art galleries, reading at open-mic poetry nights or something. Perhaps Neil Sharp primed himself for 90 minutes of roughing up Fisher strikers by sitting back in a theatre seat with two clasped index-fingers pointing tautly into his bottom lip, a single tear dropping onto the lapel of his jacket as he appreciated the subtexts of ‘Uncle Vanya’.

Players of other sides might have subsisted on a chow mein and the Charlotte Church show. Not our boys, of course, ours are a more cultured breed. Well, maybe yes, maybe no, who knows (and it would be prejudiced of me to suggest that the possibility of the above categorically did not exist) but watching that Scott Walker film did get me thinking. We really have taken a kind of avant-gardist approach to this whole play-off issue. A steady, almost ambient start, then some semblance of a cohesive melody, before a heap of blips and glitches appeared from nowhere and threw the projected scheme of things into chaos. Certainly, we’ve not made it easy on ourselves, going up being so very hard to do. Ahem.

The play-offs were our target and for only 16 days out of the last 159 have we not been in a play-off position, but these last few weeks have seen us stagger, spurt and stroll our way towards the finishing line. The home win against Yeading put us back on track, and that was followed by a further emphatic home win (3-0) against Thurrock last Saturday, while Tuesday saw us at second placed Salisbury, with neither side assured of the play-offs.

A draw was enough for Salisbury to seal their place, and that’s what they got, and it’s a result we’d probably have taken before kick-off. In those dreams, however, we might not have walked with the idea of our equaliser coming in the 92nd minute, but thanks to Richard Pacquette that was how it came to be. Scenes of jubilation amongst a high turnout of travelling Hawks were on a par with those when we pegged back Millwall to one-each in the cup last November. Or so I’m told, not being able to make it n’all. Bum.

So, after Newport County lost to Eastbourne during the week and Bishop’s Stortford only managed a draw at Eastleigh, the final day meant it remained in our hands. Win and we’re there. Draw and we’re there, assuming Braintree, Newport and the Bisht’d don’t all win. Lose and we’re there, if only one of those three win. So reasonable odds then that, regardless, we would make it. Clearly the travelling Hawks thought so, making up at least half the crowd, bearing in mind Fisher never attracted that many in their own currently under development Surrey Docks gaff, let alone down the road here at Champion Hill, as paying guests of Dulwich Hamlet. Some enthusiastic littering generates a ticker tape welcome for the Hawks, plus a sweat-shop of balloon-inflation brings even more colour, over and above our increasingly Ultra-like display of flaggery.

However, while Fisher might be mid-table fighting for squat, that paints a false picture as there has been major upheaval there during the season. They came up last year and started this campaign as the only professional club in the division and thus favourites to return to the Conference National, having spent four years there between ’87 and ’91. The financial reality of that though, in the face of no ground and few fans amongst other things, forced a reigning in of spending and a departure for then manager Justin Edinburgh.

Still, there are those that keep the faith. As we are forced to change ends after the toss, our six or seven flags remain at the car-wash end, in front of which stand the Fisher behind-goal foursome, one of whom waves his own black and white chequered banner in a semi-relaxed manner that is less tense-finish-to-a-Grand-Prix and more shaking-crumbs-off-a-picnic-rug. Still, that being the hot end you can hardly blame him for a lack of gusto, but certainly admire him for the fact that he bothers at all. Meanwhile, we bask in the first-half shade, but remain all-aglow with confidence.

This confidence is certainly unharmed by Brett Poate’s classy 13th minute finish [see picture above], although it takes a bit of knock when Fisher hit back three minutes later via Gavin Tomlin, who proceeds to put in a further dent with a very decent finish ten minutes further along. Nervously checking the Conference South live-score updates on net-enabled phones becomes the order of the day, until first half injury time sees Messers Pacquette and Taggart combining to leave Brett free to complete a brace of his own.

Come the second half and with both teams wilting a touch, Fisher shake things up on 72 minutes as Ashley Carew makes the most of keeper Gareth Howells rustiness and apparent injury (no keeper on the bench with regular #1 Shane Gore still injured) to slot a sublime shot from the edge of the box inside the near box. Thankfully, whilst we might have troubles between our sticks, we have a mole between Fisher’s. Paul Nicholls, a Hawk between 2000 and 2002, gives us some much appreciated charity, as a hasty clearance hits our skipper Tom Jordan and fortuitously drops to Jamie Collins, who cuts inside and places a shot into the centre of the net and thus out of range of the chasing back defenders. I’m sure he’d have preferred not to help us out, but we’ll take ‘em any way they come. Cheers Paul. Being appreciative, friendly types, we’d have offered him a drink in the bar afterward when he came to say hello but, who knows, with the Conference’s Stasi-like eyes and ears everywhere, probably best not to raise unwarranted suspicion. Well that and the fact that we’re tight.

So three-three, and we’ve made it to our destination. This journey has been made in a leaky landing craft over often-choppy seas. Also, let us not forget that the next hurdle immediately beckons. We’ve got to fight ‘em on the beaches yet. ‘‘Em’, as it goes, turning out to be Braintree, with whom we’ve very recent ‘history’, but more of that next week when some more semi-relevant words from the second leg will spout forth.

Now, the thing about avant-gardist music is that while its rhythms and structures may seem, on the face of it, unsettling and disjointed, give it time and it can all slot together and make perfect sense. I hope that that part of the analogy also holds true and thus, in this coming week, the Hawks slot into a groove as emphatically as a jukebox stylus cuffed into life by the Fonz.

Conference South final table (28apr07)

Histon 94pts
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Salisbury City 75pts
Braintree Town 74pts
H&W 73pts
Bishops Stortford 73pts
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Newport County 70pts
Eastbourne Borough 69pts
Welling United 69pts
Lewes 62pts
Fisher Athletic 56pts
Farnborough Town 55pts
Bognor Regis Town 52pts
Cambridge City 52pts
Sutton United 51pts
Eastleigh 48pts
Yeading 45pts
Dorchester Town 45pts
Thurrock 44pts
Basingstoke Town 43pts
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Hayes 43pts
Weston-super-Mare 35pts
Bedford Town 31pts

Links
Fisher Athletic website
Havant & Waterlooville website
Dave Haines' photos of the game

Northwood 1 Bath City 1

11apr07
Southern League Premier Division
Northwood Park, Northwood
att. 191

One might not expect to turn up at a fairly ramshackle ground near the most northwesterly inclines of the Metropolitan line and bump into someone who was the subject of your 10,000 word undergraduate dissertation. There he be though, drifting past me in the tea bar queue, leftie firebrand and director of leftist, firebrandist film, Ken Loach, the man behind Kes, Cathy Come Home and a myriad other realist films dealing with social and political issues from a working class perspective.

Well, actually, that makes it sound like some bizarre coincidence, or a real shock, which it isn’t really. It’s not like a ghostly apparition of Stanley Kubrick or Hitchcock had appeared beside me asking if I could sort ‘em out with a Twix. Ken Loach is, after all, a committed supporter of Bath City, arranging film festivals in the city for the benefit of the club from time-to-time. He’s never going to be a man all about glitzy premieres in Leicester Square, of course, but I imagined he might be off somewhere making a film about the Gulf conflict from the perspective of the ordinary Iraqi, or something, rather than stood between the dug-outs on a Wednesday night at one of the Southern Premier’s more basic grounds.

This, therefore, should mark-out our Ken as hardcore, if you can imagine a short, softly spoken septuagenarian steaming into the Northwood end. Not that Northwood really have an ‘end’ as a disappointing season means the crowds here are low. That said if you ignore the two games against their more greatly attended tenants, Southern Premier nomads Wealdstone, tonight is the season’s biggest crowd, topped out by a great many who had made the trip from the west.

Who can blame Bath, always a comparatively well supported club despite never playing in the Football League, from turning up in numbers when they have two hands, bearing in mind it takes about eight to lift it these days, on the Southern Premier Division shield. What keeps it tasty though is that prior to this game, they were nine points ahead of their tenants, Team Bath, in second place, with five games each to play. Being the University of Bath’s side, Team Bath, or ‘Team Tax’ as City followers put it, don’t rely on supporters cash, which is just as well as, naturally, they cannot compete with the history and tradition of their landlords, even if that history has taken a dent in recent years, the fallout from continued overspending in their Conference National days.

Team Bath, by contrast, are able to cherry-pick their students from the top academies, give them an education whilst also allowing them full-time training. Is it any wonder then that they should have rocketed through the pyramid in such a fashion? Should they win promotion this year, it’ll be their fourth in the seven years since they joined the Western League first division. Needless to say, of all sides, Bath would hate to chuck away such a dominant position to young oiks such as their local unwashed XI.



Tonight’s game represents an ideal opportunity to place someone else’s hand on the championship trophy, the first chap teetering a bit under its weight, bearing in mind this is a clash of top against bottom with Northwood who, if they aren’t quite dead yet, then certainly are being moved against their will into a hospice. That said, a bank holiday county cup win on penalties against Hayes two days prior might have been a shot in the arm for them, albeit with a sapping of the legs coming with it. Bath, however, had a tough home derby with Chippenham, in front of 2,044 to contend with the same day. You might imagine then that this game would not exactly be rapid, end-to-end stuff.

As stated, Bath are here in number and they congregate early at the social club end with flags and a few black and white balloons. One chap starts up his own chant for the benefit of one of the substitutes warming up. “Darren, Darren, giz a wave…[gets wave]…’RRRRRaaaayyyyy-ah.” So well does he feel this has gone, despite remaining unaccompanied, he has another bash, seemingly to the same player. A chant of “We ‘ate Chipp’num and we ‘ate Chipp’num…” sees many more grasp the choral nettle.

In the first minute, Northwood surprise Bath with their momentum, Dwane Williams lobbing a quick shot just wide of the far post. Bath’s first decent effort doesn’t follow until the quarter hour, as Northwood keeper Bill Fishenden spills a speculative shot from Chris Holland, but he is quick to leap at the feet of the on-rushing Scott Rogers. Not long after Northwood’s Danny Murphy barrels through on the left and tests the sting resistance in Bath keeper Paul Evans’ gloves. To show their support, a ground of kids sat on top of the fence behind Evan’s goal clatter their heels in unison against hoardings.

Just prior to half time, Northwood gain a free kick on the edge of the box, Wayne Carter curling it over the wall, but Evans pulls it out of the air as though pulling down a rogue Tesco carrier bag from his seven-foot high, back-alley washing line. Bath have a further chance, probably the best of the half, before the whistle goes. Lewis Hogg flicks the ball up, Martin Paul heads backwards toward the far post but the clearance is made for a corner. From that, Chris Holland rises tallest at back post but keeper is well stationed to palm away. From the next corner, Mike Green tees up a handsome shot but Fishenden collects it with a dive.

During the half time, Bath collect themselves on the bank at the far end, behind which lays a cemetery, “lets get down there and try to raise out spirits” suggests one Bath fan. It is not a plan that works that well, as within three minutes of the restart, a spirited Northwood take the lead. From a corner, Wayne Carter gets the ball and with the bridge of his foot pokes it in via Matt Coupe’s thigh. Five minutes later, with a visibly more interested Bath pushing forward, Green crashes a shot off the near-post, the ball flashing across a goal well protected by several Northwood bodies.


The momentum clearly now with City, Martin Paul has space to fire in a shot from twenty yards, Fishenden palming dangerously into the six yard box, but Bradley Hewitt’s foot gets there first to stab it away for a corner. For the next twenty minutes, the home side are able to hold on valiantly and look as though a great escape three-points may well be on. However, with twelve minutes remaining a Bath shot crashes into Peter Dean’s arm, and the ref is quick to award a penalty. Lewis Hogg steps up to slot it into the keeper’s left hand corner, just out of his reach.

In the final five minutes, both sides have chances to win, Dean going close with an acrobatic scissor-kick, and Bath sub Matt Prosser seeing a looping header drop just over the crossbar. It finishes all square though and far from ideal for either club. It looks even more certain though that Northwood will drop into the Southern League’s South & West Division (or possibly into the Isthmian North if there needs to be a shuffle), while you’d think Bath couldn’t possibly throw away the opportunity to join the Conference South for the first time since it’s inception three years ago.

ADDENDUM (23apr07):
Written over a week ago, the expected scenarios have indeed come to pass, with Bath winning automatic promotion with a 2-1 victory at Yate, while Northwood's 3-0 defeat at Rugby Town consigned them to relegation.

Links
Northwood website
Bath City website

Havant & Waterlooville 4 Yeading 0

16apr07
Conference South
West Leigh Park, Havant
att. 467

fifth in a series of short despatches from the play-off push

One thing you should now be able to take away from this website. As of today. Trust my water.

Absolutely no doubt. Guaranteed. My water is one stand-up, err, well, load a’ water. Lend it money, you will definitely see it again. And get a nice thank you gift. And any secrets you may have let slip during the transaction will be kept. 100%. Whup!

Some of you might be sceptical about this Shopping Channel hard-sell on the honour-bound nature of my bodily fluid. You’d be right to do so, as it has let me down before. As such, I stopped listening to it. Until today that is, when it raced back to me, pounding at the door and pleading, like an heiress's fiancé caught in flagrante at his favourite car-park-come-dogger-lounge, for a second chance. Call me a sentimental old fool if you like, but we’ve got ‘istory, y’know.

Despite the disappointment of Saturday, followed by the added kick in the sack that was teletext’s revelation, once home, that we had slipped outside of the play-off zone for the first time in months, I was excited, well, once time enough had been had for sleeping on it. Very excited, in fact. Surprisingly so for a league game of this type. After all, a win would not see the job fully done. However, a defeat would arguably, considering the almighty dent two defeats in three days can have on your morale, have been game over. As such, while nowhere near the final push, this was a pivotal game. My excitement, however, came from an internal knowing, an almost a priori certainty, that tonight we would not only win, but win big. I could feel it in my water and, it turns out, my ol’ water knows its onions. Well, it did today at any rate. I think it’s learnt its lesson and I would commend my water to all.


4-0 then, all done and dusted by the 41st minute, bar a couple of second half near-misses from the bonce of Tom Jordan, and the boots of Pacquette and Baptiste. Ah well, at this stage, I guess we’ll be wanting to keep some of the powder dry, as this clearly followed on from the nature of Saturday’s defeat. There, the chances created a jammed bottleneck, but the pressure finally told as for the first 45 minutes, a stunned Yeading were on the end of a dam-breaking, climactic gush.

Minute Nine : Rocky dances through defenders and the plunging keeper as though to a big-band swing rhythm before stabbing the ball in. Goal One.

Minute Twenty Six : Brett Poate curls a priceless oil-painting of a free-kick to the edge of the six-yard box, where Richie Pacquette need break no sweat in nodding it inside the near post, unmarked. Big Rich then pulls out Saturday’s goal celebration again. Able to reappraise this, I’d now cast it as less machine gunner and more a martial-artistic super-soaker oscillation. Anyhow, Goal Two.

Minute Thirty Three : Free-kick slap-bang on the edge of the area. Baptiste nudges the ball, then Poate either psyches out the wall, or possibly himself, by approaching it like it’s an unattended suitcase on a Bakerloo platform. While Yeading scamper about confused, Big Rich hammers a toe-poke through the parting of their sea and emphatically into the back of the net. This time the celebrations sees him run backwards across the box, dragging a couple of team-mates with him. That be Goal Three.

Minute Forty One : To cap a fine performance before we, very unfortunately, lose him to a 2-game suspension, Shaun Wilkinson collects the Yeading centre-halves as though he’s a defender magnet, leaving Rocky free to receive his pin-up of a pass, and beam a shot past the keeper from the edge of the area. Goal Four. Could have been more.

However, with three games to go, against relegation-threatened Thurrock, second-placed Salisbury and the always dangerous Fisher Athletic, and with suspensions and injuries (keeper Shane Gore aggravating his hamstring tonight which may put him out for the duration) likely to stretch us, we need to keep revving as, like I say, the job ain’t yet done.

However, the spirit to do it appears refreshed. Booyah!

Conference South state of play (17apr07)

1: Histon 88pts (39 games played, of 42)
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2: Salisbury City 72pts (39)
3: Braintree Town 70pts (40)
4: Havant & Waterlooville 68pts (39)
5: Welling United 67pts (40)
------------
6: Bishop’s Stortford 66pts (39)
7: Newport County 63pts (37)
8: Eastbourne Borough 60pts (37)

Links
Havant & Waterlooville website
Yeading website

Farnborough Town 2 Havant & Waterlooville 1

14apr07
Conference South
Cherrywood Road, Farnborough
att. 459

fourth in a series of short despatches from the play-off push

Football is a game of opinions. So say those who simply must be heard. I’m not that type of spectator. I am a sponge; a receptacle for the blather of my brethren; a black hole, if you will (at least I think that’s what people have been calling me). With me, see, if I’m around, you will know that, somewhere, there is a goose going about it’s daily business, and not being unnecessarily startled by a bellowed ‘BOO!’ We all need an outlet though. Ergo Hobo.

The comments box below invites any opinion, agree of disagree. Sadly, it is those trying to shift weight-loss aids, Chelsea DVD’s and Viagra, who mostly attempt to use it. Their opinion is to consider this site a free market for spam. I believe they should, verily, fack orf. That is my opinion. Never the twain shall get together for an evening of dominoes and sherry.

With football, you cannot avoid opinions, particularly so when one’s team is heading to defeat, and the sun is beating down on heads awash with a small lake of pre-match real ale. This combination’s ability to lead to a free-flow of well researched ideas will lead to conflict from time to time. There are those who will squawk like a grounded teenage crow in mid-tantrum, loudly and profanely berating players for their every mistake, and there are those who will suggest that that is not the action of a ‘supporter’, and that players mis-firing should be encouraged, not have their ebbing confidence further kicked whilst down. Today’s set-to was based on that very inconsistency and although based on two people similarly pained by a desperation to see us do well, it was a slightly worrying echo back to last season’s factionism behind the goal. That factionism has, by and large, been eradicated through a rejuvenated supporter’s club bringing the regulars together by coach for away-day travel. Never underestimate the value of team bonding.

By contrast to that notion, the other team, y’know the one on the pitch, appear to be coming rather unstuck. Not in terms of togetherness, but with regard to their collective belief. If we’re not careful, it could soon be out of our hands, and the annoying thing about that is that we really weren't a poor side today. We bossed ‘em, particularly in the second half, to the point where we might have been ‘ad-up for battery had we landed a knockout blow. This was after all a side that, as the second period went on, were looking increasingly as heavy-legged as a Mafia snitch being fitted with his new Blue Circle booties.

We certainly had plenty of clear-cut chances. Hence the frustration. Rocky had at least three one-on-one opportunities, while Craig Watkins, making a rare start, had another. On all occasions though they couldn’t get the finish, although in fairness this was in the face of a dogged defence and their strong, determined keeper, Kevin Scriven, who made a lot of difference, not only with his angle-narrowing, but with some go-Gadget-legs catching, and almost gleeful, giant-chinning-for-midgets-workout, punching.

However, aside from Richard Pacquette’s classy chest-parry/shot-on-the-turn finish (and ensuing machine-gun-wipeout-of-the-travelling-support celebration), we were wasteful, despite our constant pressure, against the resolute, but visibly tiring, Rip Van Boro. Yet they woke up alright, the gits, finding enough strength, while yawning and pulling off their flaccid, wizard-style stripey night-caps, to kick-out and smash the H&’Dub alarm clock. An 88th minute suckerpunch was enough, a Ty Smith free-kick curled beautifully inside the near post, beyond Shane Gore’s dive.

BANG! And the choke is on.

Conference South state of play (14apr07)

1: Histon 85pts
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2: Salisbury City 69pts
3: Welling United 67pts
4: Braintree Town 67pts
5: Bishop’s Stortford 66pts
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6: Havant & Waterlooville 65pts - 1 game in hand
7: Newport County 62pts - 3 games in hand
8: Eastbourne Borough 60pts - 2 games in hand

All these last few games have arguably been ‘must-win’. Make no mistake though, Yeading at home on Monday is a particularly musty must-win. In summation then, we MUST WIN!

Links
Farnborough Town website
Havant & Waterlooville website

guestTread: Stockport County 2 Rochdale 7

24mar2007
League Two
Edgeley Park, Stockport
att. 6,679

This latest guestTread comes courtesy an exclusive collaboration. Lucky people, are we. Covering the game of two halves at Edgeley Park back in March, we have Ben of Newcastle site Black and White and Read All Over and fellow exiled Geordie, Jonathan, who pens the excellent Crinklybee.

Ben:

Over a pre-match loosener in the bar at Piccadilly Station, my partner-in-crime for today’s spot of Guest Treading warns me that when he takes friends to matches they’re invariably rubbish. “Not to worry”, I reply, “I’m sure it’ll be infinitely more exciting than the England game this evening”…

Our whistles duly wetted, we take a quick scoot on the train out to Stockport and scamper up the hill to Edgeley Park, rushing to buy tickets and queuing up at the turnstiles. Five to three on a matchday afternoon, and some local residents decide this is the time to try to drive down Hardcastle Road immediately outside the ground. A group of high-spirited lads queuing with us take pleasure in deliberately holding up the traffic, one pretending to have had his foot run over and shouting “Where there’s blame, there’s a claim!” to the delight of the others. A couple of minutes later, and we’re settled with the County faithful in the imposing Cheadle End stand just in time for kick-off.

Stockport, lying in sixth, twelve places above derby opponents Rochdale at the start of play, recently set a new Football League record by winning nine consecutive games without conceding a goal. The tenth game, away at Barnet, was chosen as a wild card for the weekly Cheer Up Alan Shearer predictions. A County clean sheet being a safe bet, I went for 2-0 to the boys in blue and white. They lost 3-1. Since then, they’ve compounded chucking away a three goal lead at home to table-toppers Hartlepool by missing a re-taken penalty, while their most recent outing saw them beaten 2-1 at Bristol Rovers.

The question of which Stockport we’ll get – the ruthlessly efficient winning machine or the haplessly charitable side of late – is answered within five minutes of kick-off. Glen Murray, who earlier in the season had lined up for the home side on loan from Carlisle, bursts through a couple of feeble challenges like a boar through balsa wood and finishes neatly past Wayne Hennessey. “At least we’ll definitely see a game”, I say to Jonathan, “County’ll have to come out and attack now”…

Before the first ten minutes are out, it’s two, Alan Goodall nodding in from a corner. Then, on the quarter hour, Hennessey – the on-loan hero of the recent record-breaking run – makes a mockery of the home fans’ chants of “Wales’ number one” by inexplicably dropping a free-kick and then rashly tugging Murray turfwards. Jonathan points out that seemingly every kid with an ASBO in Stockport subsequently piles down the front to congregate behind the goal – but despite Hennessey’s valiant efforts to make amends for his rush of blood to the head, and despite the wild two-finger gesticulations of hordes of tracksuited 12-year-olds, penalty taker Adam Rundle strikes the ball with just enough venom for it to spin over the line.

The thought that this could be the Hartlepool game in reverse, with the home side mounting the dramatic three goal comeback, pops into my head. But it lingers there all of two minutes – until a low left-wing cross somehow finds its way to the feet of Rochdale’s Ben Muirhead, whose deflected shot rustles the netting in front of us for a fourth time.

4-0 to the lowly visitors, then – after just 17 minutes. In the circumstances, the continuous noisy support roared from the stands is incredible. After all, if there really is a claim where there’s blame, then every Stockport fan in the ground has the right to demand the home defence reimburse them the full cost of their tickets. A bewildered man behind us spots his friend, clearly not a regular visitor to Edgeley Park: “You’re a right fucking jinx, you”. Meanwhile, us two bemused Geordies are suffering flashbacks to January and that FA Cup replay defeat to Birmingham. If anything, though, this has been even more of a horror show; Stockport could hardly have been more spectacularly self-destructive if they’d walked onto the pitch with rucksacks and detonated themselves in the centre circle. Not even the scoreboard seems to be able to cope with it, the figure “4” flickering beneath a clearly visible “0”. It’s been that long since they last shipped four at home that the bulbs have gone.

Not to worry, though: any myopic Cheadle Enders unable to make out the scoreboard at the other end of the ground are helpfully reminded of the score by a Rochdale player who, preparing to take a corner and out of sight of the referee, responds to the barracking from home fans with a smug grin and a fan of four fingers. So it’s with no little pleasure that we celebrate County gaining a foothold back in the game courtesy of Anthony Elding’s clever back header. Tony Dinning launches the ball forwards onto Elding’s bonce and, with ‘keeper Matt Gilks having rushed obligingly off his line, the ball loops into the empty net.

If that goal might have raised Jeff Stelling’s eyebrows, then the next, five minutes later, must certainly trigger his ever-sensitive Comeback-O-Meter. Rundle’s loose pass is seized upon by Elding who squares for fellow striker Liam Dickinson to finish with ease and suddenly it’s back to 2-4. We leap to our feet, caught up in the moment like County diehards. A remarkable half finishes with Stockport tails up and us pondering how exactly stoppage time can be sponsored – players, kits and match balls fair enough, but stoppage time?!

Jonathan:

Of course it’s all very well the likes of me and Ben – essentially Newcastle United fans enjoying an afternoon awayday in the parellal universe of Football League Division Two – adopting a loftily ironic perspective. For most in the crowd this afternoon, this going 4-0 down to Rochdale within 17 minutes is hardly a laughing matter. As I emerge from the Gents at the end of half-time – a muffled roar from above alerting us last few stragglers that the second 45 minutes is just underway – I brush past a boy of maybe eleven years of age, who seems to have taken his team’s calamitous opening 45 minutes particularly to heart. Unlike the ASBO kids who had tried in vain to put ’Dale’s Adam Rundle off his penalty-taking stride, this floppy-fringed young fan (who, if it wasn’t for the blue-and-white “Come on County” flag draped over his shoulders, could have stepped straight off the pages of the Spring 2007 Gap Kid catalogue) would hail from one of the more middle-class enclaves of the borough of Stockport: leafy Heaton Mersey perhaps, or even Bramhall, which is a kind of urban ghetto for stockbrokers. Whatever the privileges afforded by his high-born status however, the youngster cuts a forlorn figure as he troops back up the steps with his mobile-phone-clutching dad: the flag, which you imagine having emerged clean and crisp from his mam’s washing machine early this morning, now droops disconsolately onto the styrofoam-coffecup-and-cigarette-end-littered floor of the concrete walkway. It will be needing to go back into the wash before the next home game, for sure.

If only Jim Gannon’s bedraggled troops could have been revived by a quick fifteen-minute spin in a top-of-the-range Bendix during the half-time interval. Before we have had a chance to regain our seats, their already perilous predicament has become downright hopeless – ’Dale’s Ben Muirhead latching onto a drilled left-wing cross to slam home a far-post half-volley – and, as the home players visibly shrink under this fresh evidence of Lancashire superiority, it is left to the Cheadle End faithful to salvage some Cheshire pride from this increasingly catastrophic afternoon. This task they rise to with relish – even as Murray’s glancing header brings ’Dale within a whisker of inflicting a club record home defeat on their floundering hosts, the rousing chant of “Jimmy Gannon’s Blue-and-White Army” is still enough to drown out anything that can be mustered by the travelling support massed on the open Railway End opposite. The ’Dale support, you imagine, have been so taken aback by their canary-clad team’s ninety-minute-only metamorphosis into the Brazil of 1970 that many of them have been quite literally dumbstruck. Behind the heads of these astonished travellers, the Railway End scoreboard continues to struggle manfully with the afternoon’s unlikely developments; the closing digit of the Twilight-Zone-esque phrase “Rochdale 6” flickers intermittently against the backdrop of the encroaching afternoon gloom.

Before the final whistle puts County out of their misery, there is time for the scoreboard’s 60-watt bulbs to get to grips with the challenge of “Rochdale 7” – Chris Dagnall slamming home an 89th minute loose ball after the latest in a series of raids led by the visitors’ tiny blond left back (a dead ringer, at least from the perspective of the far-right-hand-side cheap seats, for alleged Caledonian funnyman Jimmy Kranky). As the County net billows for the final time of the afternoon, several of the home rearguard are to be found prone on the Edgeley Park turf, their desperate lunges having served only to delay the inevitable, ultimate ignominy of that record club home defeat.

Back in the warmth of the Armitage Public House a goal-kick’s distance from the Railway End, the faithful are struggling to take it all in. Spotting my acquaintance Ian Lancashire – a County fan of forty years’ standing known to the entire crowd simply as “Lancs” – I attempt to take my share of the blame, as seems only incumbent on an occasional Cheadle Ender of far-north-eastern provenance.

“I must be a jinx Ian, man – one match I come to since Christmas and we lose 7-2. 7-2!’

“Ah don’t be daft”, comes the cheerful rejoinder. “The wind was against us, that’s all”.

It seems cruel to point out to such a diehard that unless the wind changed ends along with the players, it can hardly be held responsible for both the 4-2 deficit at half-time and the three goals shipped without reply upon the resumption. So I content myself with a rueful handshake – promising to be back again before May. Then me and Ben sidle out into the rapidly-emptying Edgeley sidestreets to catch the 17:49 back to Piccadilly – our plan is to find a welcoming city centre hostelry in which to take in the evening’s mouthwatering international fixture.

Three hours later we are emerging, somewhat the worse for wear, from the Lass O’Gowrie public house behind the Manchester BBC HQ. England and Israel have singularly failed to add to the afternoon’s tally of nine goals, but this tiny deputation of Geordie daytrippers is far from downhearted as we make our way back towards Piccadilly. “It’s always rubbish when I take a friend to a ground for the first time”, I had said to Ben over that lunchtime loosener. Well it turned out to be a lot of things – bizarre mostly, I think – but certainly not rubbish at all.

In fact, you know what? I think there might even be a chance I could entice Ben back to Edgeley Park for a second visit sometime. Well, anything is possible – even, as the Railway End scoreboard found out to its clear discomfort this afternoon, “Rochdale”.

Havant & Waterlooville 1 Eastleigh 1

09apr07
Conference South
West Leigh Park, Havant
att. 614

third in a series of short despatches from the play-off push

I was half tempted not to bother highlighting the score, so obvious was it. Our sixth 1-1 draw in the last seven weeks. In the form table, based on the last six games, we lie 18th. I don't need a tweed jacket and a pointy stick to tell you that we are not exactly sprinting to the finish line here. Prior to those six games, we still had a fairly good chance of going up automatically, but Histon are now 17 points clear of us and will certainly be Conference South champions this year.

We are now focused on one goal. That being the swatting away of the flies that are gathering around our play-off picnic. However, as we only have Salisbury of those around us still to play (and them pretty certain of their place) we can't even bash the most virile pests on the head with a rolled up newspaper directly. We need to clatter the slower, more tired flies that have given up hope of infiltrating our Tupperware box of scotch-eggs and cocktail sausages and pray that that will be enough to send out a message to the rest of 'em.


With regards the 1-1 draws I have reported on previously, at Welling and Lewes, I essentially postulated that a big ol' ice cream and a seaside stroll was the difference between a good 1-1 draw and an annoying-DohwwwwWwwww-why-I-outta, stalemate. There was no '99 today, I'm afraid, not even a bite of the bottom end of someone's melting Fab.

It was all going so well too. We arguably had the best of the first half, thanks in part to some panicky, daisy-troubling kicking from Eastleigh keeper James Pullen. Indeed, we had several opportunities to strand him whilst scrambling, like a toddling paddler in a rip-tide, back to his goal-line. Ben Sedgemore didn't take his opportunity, but Shaun Wilkinson did, although sadly his handsome lob dropped about a foot over the bar.

It was early in the second half when we took our lead, Brett Poate bending a training-ground three-touch free-kick past Pullen [see photo below] which knocked a lot of the wind out of Eastleigh's sails, and it was looking a bit of a breeze, so much so, in fact, that we never summoned up the requisite energy to properly sink their ship, which proved costly once Wilkinson was tunnelled for a second yellow.


We managed to put up a fight for seven minutes, Shane Gore making vital saves, and Mickey Warner taking a rocket for the team. After Tom Jordan had cleared off the goal-line, a follow-up welt saw a prostrate Mickey, on said line, taking a Emily-Davison-leaping-in-front-of-the-King's-horse-(had-that-horse-been-shot-out-of-a-circus-cannon-two-feet-from-her-directly-active-mush)-like hit. However such oblivous, concussed efforts from our man, his boat now as flat as the Queen's on the back of an ha'penny, ultimately proved in vain, as Ian Oliver stroked home an equaliser with three minutes to go. After that, both teams made efforts to win it, and we just about held on.

With our former hero, record appearance-maker and goalscorer James Taylor doing us an extra favour by scoring the winner for relegation-battling Basingstoke against Bishop's Stortford, the point actually saw us go back up a place. However the flies are circling ever closer, and they've got their eyes on our Sara Lee gateaux, fresh from the cool box.

Conference South state of play (09apr07)

1: Histon 82pts
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2: Salisbury City 69pts
3: Havant & Waterlooville 65pts
4: Bishop’s Stortford 65pts
5: Welling United 64pts
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6: Braintree Town 61pts
7: Eastbourne Borough 59pts - 2 games in hand
8: Newport County 56pts - 3 games in hand

Links
Havant & Waterlooville website
Eastleigh website

Lewes 1 Havant & Waterlooville 1

07apr07
Conference South
The Dripping Pan, Lewes
att. 558

second in a series of short despatches from the play-off push

Sunshine and lollipops. Like what Lesley Gore sang about. Maybe that’s the difference.

Welling United, last month, 1-1. Felt terrible. Lewes today. 1-1. Feels okay, and that’s despite there being only three points now between lovely, sweet play-offs and being sent to bed without our play-offs. You’d like to think that in the remaining six games, our players will kick and scream and establish a firm grip on the banisters to prevent that from being the case. To show a bit of fight is the key, and a 1-1 away draw at Yeading, and a 1-0 home win against mid-table Sutton United have not been exactly convincing in the past two weeks, although certainly better than the four and three goal defeats prior to that at Histon and Cambridge City. However, as I say, yet another one-all draw today doesn’t entail another bout of ennui as felt after the same result at Park View Road four weeks ago.

Surely then it has to be the sunshine and lollipops. And when I say lollipops, I actually mean a big ol' Mr Whippy on Brighton seafront on the way home, and by sunshine, I mean British Summer Time sunshine, rather than the fair-to-middling, not-quite-ready-to-shed-the-winter-coat-yet sun. We are into the final weeks and hopefully the “future’s so bright...” phrase will apply to more than just the British meteorological conditions through April.

Then again, maybe over and above the creamy cone, it might be simply that after a rather woeful start in the first half, the Hawks actually showed some of the strength (if not the invention) that, in the first two thirds of the season, got us into this position. It was some non-existent defending, again, that allowed Lewes to open the scoring today on the quarter hour, Ian Simpemba’s cross-goal header finding Jean-Michel Sigere in so much space that, if you had the same amount in your loft, conversion into an office would be a viable consideration. Ergo, he had plenty of time to carefully push the ball with his forehead into the net.

Two minutes later, a Fitzroy Simpson free-kick reached the back-post but, blinded by Rocky Baptiste’s jump, the ball hit Neil Sharp square in his squat, rectangular mush like the final blow in a 3am night-club punch-up over a spilt pint. However, just after the half hour and almost from nowhere, our Rock showed the kind of class that has not been in such abundance of late, dancing through a number of Lewes legs before laying the perfect ball out to Richard Pacquette on the right. His cross was then met by Rocky, whose header looped so slowly it eventually hit the top corner with an half-inch of dust on it. After that, both keepers were tested, but ours more so and, in fairness, Shane Gore kept us in it, doing some typically heroic point-blank stuff.

The second half wasn’t the most exciting you’ll see, but at least it showed a more determined, resolute set of Hawks, and arguably we shaded it. So, 1-1 it finished, and some were happy with it, others less so, but given that prior to this game Lewes had an outside chance of making the play-offs, a draw would probably have been accepted at 3pm, and certainly at 1-0 down at 3:16. So not ideal, but we’re still there scrapping and look much more vital than a fortnight ago. It’s all about positive thinking now.

Conference South state of play (07apr07)

1: Histon 79pts
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2: Salisbury City 69pts
3: Bishop’s Stortford 65pts
4: Havant & Waterlooville 64pts
5: Welling United 61pts
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6: Braintree Town 61pts
7: Newport County 56pts

Links
Lewes website
Havant & Waterlooville website