Havant & Waterlooville 3 Leighton Town 0

27oct07
FA Cup Fourth Qualifying Round
West Leigh Park, Havant
att. 378

The road to Wembley is, of course, littered with more banana skins than an eco warrior chimp’s compost bin. Ninety minutes from the first round proper and given the gift of a home tie against a team from two leagues below, you might think the slippery yellow fruit casing might loom large in our thoughts. However, I get the impression that we were never in any doubt. From the moment of the draw, there was less talk about the game against Leighton Town than there was about being in the bar at 5:15 after it to watch Sir Trev and chums pull out the reasonable-money balls on the plasma screen.

Admittedly there were some who made mention of the fact that we had indeed got an in-form Isthmian League Division One side to despatch with first, but I imagine this was out of politeness more than anything else. There was a pretty unnatural sense of breezy confidence wafting around West Leigh Park, which is fairly unusual at the best of times and perhaps unexpected in a season that has sputtered a little, particularly in the face of play-off expectation from our fans, and the league-winning expectation of us by fans of other Conference South clubs.

In the face of these expectations, and them not being met, Ian Baird jumped ship hours after our FA Cup victory over Bognor a month ago, following the trail of filthy lucre twenty-five miles up the road to Eastleigh, who seem keen to throw cash at provoking an intense rivalry with us, and perhaps using whatever’s left over to mount a promotion push. Not only did they pinch our gaffer, they made off with three senior members of the playing and management staff as well. To be frank, they only way they could have stolen more of our bench would have been to turn up in the dead of night to unscrew the seats.

However, while initially Baird’s defection was met with shock, there was very little awe, and certainly no great disappointment to speak of. While we have made strides under his stewardship (and we were slipping away like a bobsleigh team with neither appropriate footwear nor indeed a bobsleigh under his predecessor Dave Leworthy) you could never say that we fans were the epitome of grateful satisfaction when there were blips. I was an Ian Baird fan, by and large, but perhaps last season’s play-off semi-final defeat on penalties was to be the acme of his achievements. His valedictory admission that he’d taken the team as far as he could was perhaps the one shard of honesty in another otherwise pretty duplicitous departure.

Mind you, he made a giant, dead-weight rod for his own back prior to the season in forcing the board to make an embarrassing u-turn on their winning PR gambit of flying in the face of football trend and actually reducing entry prices. He stated he couldn’t finance a league winning side on that budget and thus rather than a one-pound reduction, we instead had to wear a quid increase, taking us to a tenner for the first time. By the looks of the performances at the start of this season, neither was this enough. You could argue that he was spending our money unwisely, yet Eastleigh wanted part of his scattercash action and were happy, as I've mentioned, to let him spend their money on almost his entire H&W backroom staff.

When you examine who has gone with him though, you realise we could have only got rid of more dead wood had we offered to throw in the rotting timber from our long demolished old stand for an extra tenner. Firstly there was goalkeeping coach Gareth Howells. Mmm… how to describe Gareth. Ah yes. Guardian TV critic Charlie Brooker once described Ross Kemp as always wearing the kind of look that suggested he was trying to stare-out two knotholes in a wall. Now if you imagine those knotholes for a second, you’ve pretty much pictured Gareth’s trick-or-treat eyeballs. The upper half of his fizzog is so sunken, you could send divers down into it to scavenge for treasure.

We have also lost Fitzroy Simpson. I could not be more ambivalent about our club losing a former international, and it’s not as if non-league is swimming in them. Here’s a couple of remarks I made about Fitz at the start of last year. From our 3-1 away defeat at Maidenhead: “Fitzroy Simpson, lest we forget a man who has played at a World Cup, is showing so little class that I’d half expect to find a faded sticker from Londis price-gunned to his leg”. From something quite similar at Histon two weeks later: “Fitzroy Simpson continues to equate playing in the Conference South with slipping into a cheeky thigh-length kimono and knocking back a pink gin”. The reason I’ve not mentioned him much in the eighteen months since then is simply because he’s rarely started, instead he’s been content to specialise in the stalking and sledging of linesmen. This made him a bit of a cult figure but quite an expensive one when you weigh that up against minutes actually spent on the pitch. I’m sure we could employ an ankle-biting Jack Russell terrier and achieve much the same for a great deal less cash (although a touch more Bonio).

Finally we have lost Matt Gray, who joined us two years ago, and played only 14 games, a man not so much on speaking terms with injury as indulging in pretty grubby phone-sex with it on a nightly basis. He repaid the loyalty we had shown him during his long periods on the sidelines (to be fair, he did quite a bit of scouting in that time) by pissing off up the road, possibly only so that he could keep attending the same slap-head survivor’s group as Bairdy. Gray will be Baird’s assistant manager despite the fact that Eastleigh have spun that their interim gaffer David Hughes would be returning to his player/assistant manager role.

It will be interesting to see how that plays out, particularly as ideally Baird wanted to take his assistant Shaun Gale with him to take up that position. However Galey’s been at West Leigh Park a long time now and considered what he had been part of starting (having been brought in as a player at the start of the Jenkins/Daish joint reign in the summer of 2000) was nowhere near to being finished, he decided to stay put. As a result, and considering the show of betrayal of one whom had demanded loyalty from his players, our board rewarded Galey’s fidelity by making him manager. To those of us who identified Shaun as being a little too close to recent underachievement, and wanted a putting out to tender rather than a coronation from within for a change, this may have initially seemed a little hasty. However one cannot deny that there was honour in it and, of course, despite our conversational and web forum grumbles, we have backed Galey from the terraces from the get-go.

So far, the Gale regime has been unspectacular but, crucially, undefeated. Certainly there hasn’t been enough to make us in anyway haughty and superior in the face of lower-league opposition in a crucial cup tie, but yet there was none of the usual buzz that accompanies a fourth-qualifying round cup-tie. Not today, and not all week. No genuine excitement amongst the hardcore nor indeed the fair-weather who turn out for the bigger games. The theory seems to be, get this one out of the way, and come and see the first round game, which may well involve Leeds (this year’s must-have cup-tie). As a result, ours is the lowest attended game in the fourth-qualifying round.

As it turned out, of course, the players showed the right amount of respect and thus were barely troubled by Leighton, certainly not as much as we supporters were by their support. Well, irritated anyway. Calling themselves the ‘Wild Idiots’ (in a show of self-awareness that could only have been better captured if they’d all had the word ‘bell-end’ tattooed on their chins), they sang songs like 'Ten German Bombers' (only in the bar, mind) and generally made you proud to be, well in my case, partly Welsh.

Still, that irritant would have been much more grating had we not done a professional job, particularly so down the spine, with Charlie Oatway and Andy Gurney breaking and bustling in midfield, Kevin Scriven switched on in goal on the occasions Leighton left their half, and Neil Sharp strong in defence. It’s been gratifying to see Sharpy’s performances of late; a return to form that couldn’t be more evident even if he’d taken to turning out at centre-half in an ill-fitting school uniform.

Up-front, Rocky Baptiste and Richard Pacquette did their bit adequately as well, Rocky pouncing on indecision and a nervy keeper in the 35th minute to pinch-flick an opener, before a wonderfully angled header and a deft lob off the post sorted Richie out for a second half brace. Job done on the field then, and all into the bar as planned…

…but more on that here…

Road to Wembley
F: Portsmouth 1 Cardiff City 0 (att. 89,874)
SF: Barnsley 0 Cardiff City 1 (att. 82,752)
QF: Barnsley 1 Chelsea 0 (att. 22,410)
5R: Liverpool 1 Barnsley 2 (att. 42,449)
4R: Liverpool 5 Havant & Waterlooville 2 (att. 42,566) [HOBO]
3Rr: Havant & Waterlooville 4 Swansea City 2 (att. 4,400) [HOBO]
3R: Swansea City 1 Havant & Waterlooville 1 (att. 8,761) [HOBO]
2R: Notts County 0 Havant & Waterlooville 1 (att. 3,810) [HOBO]
1R: York City 0 Havant & Waterlooville 1 (att. 2,001) [HOBO]
4QR: Havant & Waterlooville 3 Leighton Town 0
3QR: Leighton Town 3 Boreham Wood 1 (att. 273)
3QR: Havant & Waterlooville 2 Fleet Town 1 (att. 386)
2QR: Kirkley & Pakefield 1 Leighton Town 2 (att. 225)
2QR: Bognor Regis Town 1 Havant & Waterlooville 2 (att. 426) [HOBO]
1QR: Ashford Town (Mddx) 0 Leighton Town 1 (att. 77)
PR: Leighton Town 3 FC Clacton 1 (att. 125)

the Hobo off-Road 2007/08
click here for links to all 2007/2008 FA Cup pieces

Links
Havant & Waterlooville website
Leighton Town website

Kendal Town 4 Woodley Sports 0

13oct07
FA Cup Third Qualifying Round
Lakeland Radio Stadium, Kendal
att. 195

Some English towns will always be associated with the phrase “well, it’s quite nice in the summer”. On a clear day that’s no problem, of course. During a miserable winter however, any town with that notion hanging over it will feel more than a little weighed down, like an overburdened milk-maid whose pigtails have been nailed to a tree. This applies to most popular-in-the-early-50’s seaside towns for example. Kendal, however, is not one of those towns, working just as well, if not better, amidst a light drizzle and under a Tudor-period ceiling of low-hanging mist. Welcome to the Lake District folks. I’m slightly wet and I like it.

The challenge of course when writing about this town is avoiding any mention of old-money energy foods or, if you’re an incorrigible tangent-ist, Mr Bronson from Grange Hill. Hobo Tread has, thus far, been mint-cake free, ‘til just then in fact. However, the Mr Bronson path has been well worn already. Not quite as pleasant a path as that from Oxenholme train station down into Kendal mind you, one which is lined with fields and seemingly nothing but chalk-white housing, their property boundaries as stonewall as YOUR team’s every penalty shout.

I guess in this part of the world though, you might feel a little isolated, being between the M6 and the main thrust of the Lakes. In theory, Kendal Town should own this part of the world, football wise, what with Preston and Carlisle both being a fair old drive away, Morecombe only recently arrived on the Football League scene, and both Barrow and Workington only one division higher in status, and as good as off radar anyway, operating out of Cumbria’s ocean-licking edge.

By rights, Kendal should be attracting more than a seemingly fickle support that fluctuates between 200 and 400 depending on form and opposition. It even dips slightly sub-200 this afternoon, as relatively unattractive cup-ties tend to do, particularly when kick-off has not been shifted in line with public interest in an important England Euro 2008 qualifier. It also doesn’t help when the away support appears to consist of two blokes huddled in isolation towards the far end, both sporting faces more gritty than a Ken Loach film about cat litter.

As it is a few, despite having paid their entrance fee, hang about in Kendal’s expansive social club to watch the ‘Gland go about their business. Clearly this facility is part of Kendal’s initiative to put themselves at the heart of the community, despite the ground being a mile or so away from the centre. All round the dancefloor and the many part-enclosed seating areas are painted murals of the big pop and rock star names of the last 30 years – the Bee-Gee’s, Cher, Michael Jackson and such giving it Bertie Big-Face up on the walls. Great décor perhaps for a no-knickers 80’s disco boozathon but perhaps not so ideal for their next event, a pie and peas supper with ex-Burnley and Wolves striker Steve Kindon.

While we might express surprise at Kendal’s crowds, Woodley’s are perhaps to be expected, being ambitious young upstarts by comparison. Formed in 1970, fifty years after Kendal, Woodley are only in their third season in the Northern Premier League’s second tier. In fact, it’s only a decade since their Lambeth Grove stadium was fully enclosed which finally allowed them to leave behind the Manchester Leagues and join the senior ranks of the pyramid. There are still some safety concerns with Lambeth Grove however, although that is less to do with the synthetic pitch they’ve had installed and more to do with the occasional crossbow bolt that gets fired into the ground.

Despite being a state-of-the-art, third generation Fieldturf surface, Woodley’s decision to go placcy does impact on their FA Cup run as they are unable to play any of their home ties on it. While the FA allows plastic pitches to be used in the FA Vase and FA Trophy, they remain outlawed in the Cup. Thus, had today’s game ended in a draw, the replay would have taken place at Park Road Stadium, home of Cheadle Town.

However, as you’ll have spotted by now from the headline above, Woodley didn’t even come close to earning a replay, and while a four goal whuppin’ might have been harsh, it merely highlighted the fact the home side, when playing with confidence, are a whole greater than their fiddly bits.

It was fairly even until the 20th minute, Gareth Arnison knocking home the opener at the near post from a Peter Wright pass. Around the half hour mark, Lee Mulvaney conjured three chances in a five minute period, but was thwarted twice by Woodley keeper Liam Higginbotham and also by a perfectly timed tackle from midfielder Andy Watson, an Anthony-Gormley-iron-cast effigy of Peter Ebdon whose jaw movement suggested he was being operated from the rear by Ray Alan. Actually, to refine that, imagine Lord Charles attempting an impersonation of Liam Gallagher buying twenty Bensons, a finger of Fudge and a can of Top Deck off a grumpy newsagent, and you’re pretty much there.

Kendal were particularly unfortunate not to go into the break two-up as, after a Higginbotham save from Arnison, the ref blew for the hiatus just as Wright was about to hit his follow-up shot. Ball hit net. Ire hit ref. However, despite an initial resurgence from Woodley at the start of the second half, Watson going close with a big Easter Island header that flew straight into the waiting arms of Kendal keeper David Newnes, Kendal had it much their own way.

After said header, Craig Hobson easily beat the leaden defence and brought another leg-based save from Higginbotham. However the resultant corner saw the ball drop to Callum Warburton outside the far corner of the penalty area and he unleashed a shot as sweet as mintc…, err, syrup into the top corner. Even I, a neutral, let out an audible exclamation; a ‘cor, look at that’ so salty it would have made Sid James blush.

Playing with fluidity in the final quarter, Kendal wrapped it up with ten minutes left, Paul Byrne beating the offside tap and slotting the ball calmly beneath Higginbotham. A final flourish from Woodley required Newnes to be sharp in keeping out a Nick Robinson shot, however Kendal were able to apply some icing and a candle or two in the final minute as Wright broke down the right and powered the ball (see above) past a now very resigned Higginbotham. Kendal’s reward, a home tie with Conference Premier strugglers Altrincham. If they can remain confident in their abilities, a scalp may well be theirs for the taking.

Road to Wembley
F: Portsmouth 1 Cardiff City 0 (att. 89,874)
SF: Portsmouth 1 West Bromwich Albion 0 (att. 83,583)
QF: Bristol Rovers 1 West Bromwich Albion 5 (att. 12,011)
5R: Coventry City 0 West Bromwich Albion 5 (att. 28,163)
4R: Coventry City 2 Millwall 1 (att. 17,268)
3Rr: Millwall 2 Walsall 1 (att. 4,645)
3R: Walsall 0 Millwall 0 (att. 4,358)
2R: Millwall 2 AFC Bournemouth 1 (att. 4,495)
1R: Altrincham 1 Millwall 2 (att. 2,457)
4QR: Kendal Town 0 Altrincham 1 (att. 641)
3QR: Kendal Town 4 Woodley Sports 0
2QR: Liversedge 0 Kendal Town 3 (att. 198)
2QR: Horden Colliery Welfare 0 Woodley Sports 5 (att. 58)
1QR: Worksop Town 0 Kendal Town 1 (att. 248)
1QR: Hallam 0 Woodley Sports 1 (att. 80)
PRr: Mossley 1 Woodley Sports 2 (att. 210)
PR: Woodley Sports 1 Mossley 1 (att. 129, at Cheadle Town FC)

the Hobo off-Road 2007/08
click here for links to all 2007/2008 FA Cup pieces

Links
Kendal Town unofficial MySpace
Woodley Sports website
Observer Road to Wembley feature

Latest Hobo live music review:
Von Südenfed @ London Heaven, 18oct07.

Arsenal 2 Newcastle United 0

25sep07
League Cup Third Round
Emirates Stadium, Islington
att. 60,004

It’s not all about yer Brimscombe & Thrupps here, not always a loving portrait of yer Greenalls Padgate St. Oswalds’, yer AC Pontymisters’ or yer Ifield Edwards’szizzes round here. It rarely is in truth, we don’t often stray far from the Conference South in the greater scheme of things. Below rung six particularly of the non-League part of the pyramid oft goes undisturbed by my footsteps. For all the grassroots pretensions of this site, your visit here will usually mean only that you’ll be squeezed between the blinkers of the non-League iceberg’s semi-professional tip. Amateur hour doesn’t go on and on, not here anyway.

However, that blinkering comes literally at both ends, as you’ll not get much from me these days from the professional game either. The Premiership all the way down to the Conference represents a bit of a Hobo hinterland as well, mainly owing to the price. However, if the League Cup is good for anything, it’s for the bigger clubs bringing their prices down. As such, to watch the Arsenal tonight from the stalls of their big new theatre, it’s a tenner, same as it is to watch the H&W in the Conference South. Mind you an added £3.50 internet booking fee is not something that tends to trouble the week-in-week-out Hawk follower.

It’s got me thinking though. People are willing to fork out 30 or 40 sheets a time to come here, and it would take roughly 110 H&W average home attendances, about five seasons worth, to fill it. I’ve not done my sums, but I imagine more people watch the Arsenal at home on a given Saturday than are watching the entire League Two programme occurring at that time. To me, that’s depressing, but you might have guessed that considering my usual ports-of-call. Success and star names are an undoubted draw for sure, but going on my experience here tonight, I really can’t fathom how you Premiership fans do it every week. Sitting, I mean. Well, that’s just it, some of you don’t. You bob up and down like a Whac-a-Mole at a Proms concert.

 Now, I’ve always liked to think of myself as a laid-back kind of chap. However, there comes a time when the evidence becomes too irrefutable to allow the ego to continue to feed solely on pretence alone. So, yeah, I’ll stand up and say it. I’m yer Skiffoid and, yeah, people sometimes do in my handsome nut in a manner that’s disproportionate to their crime. People like co-workers who respond to you answering their queries about your football club and the level they play at by “aww bless”-ing like you’ve just whopped out, as a man teetering on the cusp of your thirties, your treasured Cabbage Patch doll collection, a gathering which you continually refer to as your ‘second family’. You can perhaps understand, considering my soundly patronised circumstances, why I felt like twisting a wine-box tap into their frontal lobe with my palm, before siphoning off the idiot juice in the hope of saving them from a potential punch-out in the future from a closet psychopath with a penchant for Pound Puppies. You will note from this, that I clearly arrest apparent anger with aggressive alliteration.

Some might consider the wine-box response indefensible. I present thus. Case for the prosecution: heavily pregnant lady. Case for the defence: squawky Australian. There’s not a jury in the land etc. etc.

The bobbing-up and down I spoke of earlier, particularly when sat in the shallow-raked rows of the lower tier, also provokes a gritted-teeth response. Especially when the main offender is in row seven, squarely in front of me in row eight, and is leaping up when the ball is in Gooner possession on the halfway line, let alone when a deep, searching cross hones in on the six yard box. Grrrr…. Now, the last thing any of you want to read now is another part-time groundhopper (My name is Skif and I’m one of them too) being all wistful and misty-eyed about crumbling concrete terracing, but at least you can solve sightline issues fairly swiftly there, by taking a jump to the left (or, indeed, a step to the right). Watching from terrace steps most weeks, particularly at 6’ 4”, means one gets used to a consistently unimpeded field of vision, and thus verge on the clothes-ripping Hulk-esque when matey in front becomes the dark DIY off-beat in my football strobe-light.

It is perhaps not the best of times when one becomes enveloped by a desire for the ready availability of some superglue. However, even in these moments of futile internal rage, my innate reasonableness shines through the dribbling fury. Y’ see, I wouldn’t be using said agent to bond the obstruction to its padded seat. No no. Rather, I would use it to fasten in place the heavy-duty steel springs I would have pushed into their fundament and its framing cushions. Thus they could then justifiably turn around and suggest that their incessant bouncing was out of their control. As a result, I could no longer have any permissible reason to remain outraged. Instead empathy and guilt would win out, and a night out at the League Cup becomes the middle class liberal’s busman’s holiday.

So, not being able to beat them, I have to sign up for ninety minutes of leaping about joinin’ 'em, to see how the Premiership other half live. Not that this is the best example of current top-league talent on display. Although one might argue that, instead, we do have a window into the future right here in front of us, given that Arsenal are once again treating the League Cup as their laboratory Petri dish. On the other hand, Newcastle are struggling with injuries and find themselves playing this fixture a mere fifty hours after a spirited home win over West Ham. As a result, the pre-school sandpit enthusiasm of Arsenal’s fresh-legged and pacey wunderkinds easily betters the heavy-eyelidded over-caution of the Toon’s five-man midfield, who play with all the bite of a vampire with a poor oral hygiene routine and a fondness for dolly mixtures. Skipper Alan Smith pads about the midfield for much of the game as though wearing a slightly too-roomy set of waders. In the second half, when Emre barrels on from the subs bench, he looks and moves like a kid that’s just been set free from three happy nights trapped in a Scout troop’s tuck shed.

Shay Given is, unsurprisingly, a shining light for the Toon making several vital saves. Conversely, in the midst of a very effective all-round performance from the Gunners, wine-gum-sized Theo Walcott, who looks like the prototype for his own Corinthian ProStars model, is on the receiving end of several murmurs of discontent. He’s like a pacifist Browning dealer. Got all the handsome pieces on display but the total value is diminished through the absence of all the triggers. All Cillit. No Bang!

Despite Arsenal’s superiority, the teams remain deadlocked even up until the 83rd minute, when Nicklas Bendtner escapes David Rozenhal’s attention to head home Armand Traore’s cross. Shaken up by this, Newcastle have their best chance within a minute, Obafemi Martins rounding keeper Lukasz Fabianski, but not getting enough on his shot for it to beat Phillipe Senderos to the goal-line. With a minute left, Denilson makes sure of the win with a beautiful shot from just outside the area that flies into the top corner like a snapped pencil-lead into a tear-duct.

Frankly, thank Christ for that, as I’m not sure I could have stood another half an hour. It’s peculiar how people can view things in different ways. I genuinely disliked the experience, and I didn’t come in what that expectation either. The stadium looks nice and all that, but I just didn’t feel comfy with it. I guess it’s just what I’m used to, and there is certainly no value in applying a holier-than-thou non-league-that’s-the-proper-stuff-son attitude. After all, when you see the eager looks on the faces of the kids in the crowd, some possibly taking in their only live action of the season thanks to the fire-damage ticket prices, it would require a curmudgeonliness to the point of scowling deep into a weather-beaten set of mutton chops to deny them that pleasure. It probably isn’t really fair to spoil a child’s excitement by grabbing them by the shoulders and yelling “what about Broxbourne Borough V&E, eh? What about them, eh? Eboue’s probably got about eight Mercs” before spinning on the sixpence of your own rabid spittle and storming out.

Road to Wembley
F: Tottenham Hotspur 2 Chelsea 1 (att. 87,660)
SF2: Tottenham Hotspur 5 Arsenal 1 (att. 35,979)
SF1: Arsenal 1 Tottenham Hotspur 1 (att. 53,136)
5R: Blackburn Rovers 2 Arsenal 3 (att. 16,207)
4R: Sheffield United 0 Arsenal 3 (att. 16,971)
3R: Arsenal 2 Newcastle United 0
2R: Newcastle United 2 Barnsley 0 (att. 30,523)

Sporting Bengal United 0 London APSA 0

19aug07
FA Cup Extra Preliminary Round
Mile End Stadium, Mile End
att. 382

Hobo in my pocket #8

The Soho Square bag a' balls throws up a first senior clash for London's two most well-established Asian community sides. Thus a crowd twelve-times Sporting's average, Damien Johnson (plus Football Focus camera crew) and an unusually excitable atmosphere comes to Mile End Stadium.

Previously, on Dub Steps
Sporting Bengal United 0 Erith & Belvedere 5

Others amongst
Non-League Football Groundbloggers view

Road to Wembley
F: Portsmouth 1 Cardiff City 0 (att. 89,874)
SF: Portsmouth 1 West Bromwich Albion 0 (att. 83,583)
QF: Bristol Rovers 1 West Bromwich Albion 5 (att. 12,011)
5R: Coventry City 0 West Bromwich Albion 5 (att. 28,163)
4R: Peterborough United 0 West Bromwich Albion 3 (att. 12,701)
3R: Colchester United 1 Peterborough United 3 (att. 4,003)
2R: Staines Town 0 Peterborough United 5 (att. 2,460)
1Rr: Staines Town 1 Stockport County 1 [3-4 pens] (att. 2,860)
1R: Stockport County 1 Staines Town 1 (att. 3,460)
4QR: Woking 0 Staines Town 1 (att. 1,431)
3QR: Brentwood Town 0 Staines Town 3 (att. 277)
2QR: Brentwood Town 2 Harlow Town 0 (att. 192)
1QR: London APSA 0 Brentwood Town 4 (at Brentwood, att. 122)
[Tiptree United removed from competition for playing ineligible player]
PR: Tiptree United 2 London APSA 0 (att. 77)
EPRr: London APSA 4 Sporting Bengal United 3 (att. 71)
EPR: Sporting Bengal United 0 London APSA 0

the Hobo off-Road 2007/08
click here for links to all 2007/2008 FA Cup pieces

Bognor Regis Town 1 Havant & Waterlooville 2

29sep07
FA Cup Second Qualifying Round
Nyewood Lane, Bognor Regis
att. 426

The late, great John Peel once categorised the relationship between himself and his long-time producer John Walters as being like that between “a man and his dog, with each believing the other to be the dog.” I am reminded of this every time I go to Nyewood Lane, as while it doesn’t apply exactly to our links with the Rocks, there is a kind of implied superiority from either side. Bognor believe that they ‘play all the football’, one man apparently remarking in the tea-bar queue that he was getting “a crick in his neck” watching us. On the other side of it, we believe ourselves to be the bigger club. In fact when, two seasons ago, their red-hot goalscoring machine Ben Watson decided not to join us from them, he was decried by many as “lacking ambition.” If Bognor Regis Town had a collective head, we’d probably want to pinch its cheek and ruffle its hair.

Needless to say the Rocks fans loved the fact that Watson turned us down. If he weren’t a terrace hero already, that would have been enough to seal it. However, like I’ve mentioned previously, our rivalry with Bognor is somewhat lacking in lustre, a bit like a white high-top van covered in so much dust as to make any keen fingertip graffitist that happens to pass by instantly hyperventilate. There’s not even been that much inter-club movement of players over the years, although the exceptions to that are both stationed at left back today. Our Brett Poate spent some time on loan at Bognor a few seasons ago during a period of patchy form, while BRT’s Sebastian Wallis-Tayler (I do enjoy a surname that sounds not only quite posh but at the same time a little bit like the leader of the peasant’s revolt) once or twice played for us.

To give an indication of how things roll between us, as a group of we Hawks walk through the turnstiles into the ground, we are greeted by Rocky the Bear, the Bognor mascot, and he’s instantly in for the hugs, although sadly only with one of the ladies amongst our number. Boo hiss. Skiffy want love too. There’s no cheeky goading coming from the bear, only some thrown shapes reminiscent of a Mockney uncle dancing with the kids table at a low-key wedding reception. One of our supporters starts chanting about Hawk hero Rocky Baptiste at his namesake mascot, implying the superiority of our 69 goals in 101 games star striker over a giant teddy bear with restricted movement. You’d hope that was a given, but Rocky the bear isn’t keen on the case of ‘mistaken’ identity, waving his arms in a manner that suggests he’s just been tapped on the shoulder and aggressively asked his whereabouts in a recent pint-spilling incident.

So, like I say, we try (to an extent), but the spitting hatred just doesn’t come. Which is a good thing of course, but sometimes a little bit of passion goes a long way. For much of this game, the energy levels amongst the crowd, and on the pitch, are lower than a Caribbean earthworm’s limbo pole, particularly during the first half which passes by largely chanceless. This situation though suits Bognor as while pottering about the ground, an official is overheard remarking that “to be honest, we’re hoping for a replay, cos we need the money.” It is perhaps Bognor’s financial woes that make it seem a little callous to be too cruel to them, certainly over and above referring to them as the Bogrolls. Mind you we’ve been referred to as Havant & Toilet Town enough over the years, so alls fair n’ that. [Incidentally, the club name twisteroo is a something I’ve written about elsewhere.]

By comparison to Bognor, we’ve been quite lucky to have people with deep pockets involved in our club who have enabled us to punch about our weight financially. Bognor have not had that luxury. They’ve had Jack Pearce, who’s been a fixture in both boardroom and dressing room since the reign of Edward the Confessor. Last season, after all the years bringing Bognor, to be fair, a number of reasonable successes, particularly in the FA Cup, and built up a fairly neat ground with a handsome social club, he finally had enough of the pressures that come from worrying about every wobbly nook and rusty cranny of the place, and took the last couple of months off.

The next weekend, while Bognor were at home, Jack was knocking about West Leigh Park (so regular a haunt of his over the years, he may well have an H&’Dub mini-kit suckered to the rear window of his Metro) watching us and was asked why he wasn’t at Bognor. “I’ve had enough of them, and they’ve had enough of me” harrumphed un-jolly Jack. However, having retreated and regrouped, Jack’s back this season and, frankly, it wouldn’t be the same without him squawking from the touchline.

However, despite the motivational screeching, they’re not having the best of seasons. Currently in the relegation zone, when they drew us out of the hat, their initial feeling was one of deflation, a foreboding sense of certain defeat and, thus, no bunse in the Bognor bin. However, the H&W season has taken a turn for the mediocre in the past fortnight, with a 3-3 draw at Maidenhead followed by defeats away at Weston-Super-Mare and at home to Lewes. Not promotion form, let alone championship form, and we were the popular choice amongst our Conference South peers to walk it this season. As such Bognor probably had less to worry about than they first thought.

One bright spot of the last few weeks has been the signing of Brighton legend Charlie Oatway, who has been forced to quit the pro game. In the past we’ve seen many sides of the coin with employing retired ex-pro’s, and we always keep our fingers crossed that they turned out be as brilliant as Liam Daish was for us round the turn of the century. On the basis of Charlie’s first game against Lewes, he may well turn out to live up to that expectation, tracking around the pitch with considerable energy, breaking up many an opposition attack, and starting many of ours.

One interesting titbit about Charlie is that Charlie isn’t really his name. He has eleven given handles as it goes, having been named after the 1973 QPR first XI by his keen, if slightly cruel, father. This led to some conjecture as to what our chant for him might be. I offered two suggestions on our web forum:

"He's got 12 names, my friend, I thought they'd never end..."

or, to the tune of ‘The Animal Fair’;

“Anthony Philip Dav-id
Terry Frank Donald Stanley
Gerry
Gordon
Stephen
James
and what became of the Charlie Oatway, Oatway, Oatway…”

You can see from this why I never offer up any new material when stood behind the goal. Mind you I’m not the only one pitching the penny dreadfuls. Another recent suggestion for addition to our repertoire was this effort. The tune should be obvious.

“Jamie Slabber
Rock-y
Paquette
Poate!
Havant ‘Looville! Havant ‘Looville!
Say hel-lo”

And the nominees for the Bartons End Terrace ‘Most mincing’ award are…

In my defence, the guy who suggested the latter makes his living as a police officer. So he should know better. In the end we opt for the safe as houses “there’s only one Charlie Oatway”, necessity not being the mother of invention on this occasion.

Today, rather sadly, Charles was a little more absent from the meat and tats of the midfield doin’s. Just as well then, that Andy Gurney should turn in a tremendous performance. However before we got to the pinnacle of that performance, we had to suffer going behind on 53 minutes through Chris Greatwich. It’s not a forte of ours to turn around a deficit and thus, I confess, heads did start to droop behind the goal, particularly as Bognor are defending well. Rocks skipper Mickey Birmingham responds to jokes about his age from our lot at a corner saying “I f**kin’ am [old], and I’m f**kin’ feeling it too” before sprinting up the touchline like a teenage cougar to start an attack. Lying git.

It is perhaps the old boys day out as just after this comes a Gurney goal. Rocky Baptiste gets knocked off his stride and Gurns slides in to push the ball to Tony Taggart. Taggs then curves in a quality cross that Andy hammers home with his shiny nut. “Ooh! Andy Gurney” comes the chant, the ‘ooh!’ collectively exhaled like an emphysemic man being punched in the sternum, possibly by Andy Gurney, as his hot-head reputation precedes him. As does his whole-hearted one though, and he was everywhere today, committed to every flank-laden ball that he had even a 10% chance of catching.

With nine minutes to go, Jamie Slabber seals the game applying a featherbed forehead to a ball returning to earth after another Gurney header cannons up off the bar and thus we squeeze our way into the third qualifying round with the same ease as a tennis ball into a child’s sock.

STOP PRESS
In that next round we have been drawn to host Fleet Town, of the Southern League Division One South & West. We will mostly likely go into that game without a manager. This morning, just prior to my publishing the above report (written yesterday), news came through that Ian Baird had tendered his resignation, and will take over at Eastleigh with immediate effect. I'm a bit too stunned to comment further at this juncture, except to say with regards local rivalries, I imagine we won't have any problems generating some heat with them Spitfires in the coming months.

Previously, on Hobo Tread
26dec05: Bognor Regis Town 0 Havant & Waterlooville 1

Road to Wembley
F: Portsmouth 1 Cardiff City 0 (att. 89,874)
SF: Barnsley 0 Cardiff City 1 (att. 82,752)
QF: Barnsley 1 Chelsea 0 (att. 22,410)
5R: Liverpool 1 Barnsley 2 (att. 42,449)
4R: Liverpool 5 Havant & Waterlooville 2 (att. 42,566) [HOBO]
3Rr: Havant & Waterlooville 4 Swansea City 2 (att. 4,400) [HOBO]
3R: Swansea City 1 Havant & Waterlooville 1 (att. 8,761) [HOBO]
2R: Notts County 0 Havant & Waterlooville 1 (att. 3,810) [HOBO]
1R: York City 0 Havant & Waterlooville 1 (att. 2,001) [HOBO]
4QR: Havant & Waterlooville 3 Leighton Town 0 (att. 378) [HOBO]
3QR: Havant & Waterlooville 2 Fleet Town 1 (att. 386)
2QR: Bognor Regis Town 1 Havant & Waterlooville 2

the Hobo off-Road 2007/08
click here for links to all 2007/2008 FA Cup pieces