21feb09
FA Trophy Quarter Final
Bootham Crescent, York
att. 1,679
In the FA competitions since our formation in 1998, we have played 22 sides from higher leagues, the vast majority of whom have been professional. Of these we have won seven, drawn five and lost ten. A 55% record of not losing to these types of outfits is, I would guess, quite high; the 75% record we had last season particularly good, of course, especially with sides two, three and five divisions higher in amongst that stat.
As a result we often go into many games of this type these days with a confidence bordering on expectation. We have become almost fearless, building up an increased immunity to that feeling that says “cripes Ted, we might take a real pasting today.” Well, that’s what the feeling might say if it appeared in a 1950’s comic strip anyway.
However, all that fearlessness can take a wobble, depending on the previous performance. It has been that kind of a season, little sparks of form meaning there has been a stuttering oscillation between depression and delight all year. Given that I perhaps get a little too giddy about progress in the knockouts, then suffer a major morale collapse when we then follow up with a lost league game, it’s been a strain on the ol’ mental health. To borrow a line from the great John Shuttleworth), I’ve been up and down like a bride’s nightie since pre-season.
Going to Crawley in October we had just fallen apart at the hands of AFC Wimbledon, and thus the fear returned. Playing them last Monday, our form had been wobbly, and our league positions and postponements meant that part of us may have thought that we could do without the extra games, given that the relegation zone can have a quicksandish quality when you’re playing an elongated game of catch-up.
Yet, big games increase the focus and, arguably, the intensity of interest in the FA Trophy goes up several notches at the de facto quarter-final stage, perhaps not in line with the Cup 1st round exactly, but closer in relative terms. So, with that and those performances against Crawley in mind, we’ve gone into the games against Brentford and York this season with more confidence than ordinarily we might, particularly on the terraces.
However neither performance has lived up to that over-expectation. Perhaps we need that belly-fizz to achieve the big stuff. A neutral watching a tie between sides a level apart might predict a relatively comfortable but not emphatic win for the higher placed outfit and in both our cup exits this season, that’s what’s gone on. As such there is no real disgrace in losing 2-0 at York, we need the A* game to win ties like this and we turned up with a B+, as will often be the case in this scenario. We have been rather spoilt in the recent past.
It was two good goals that did for us too, both from striker Daniel McBreen who is soon to return to Australia apparently. He was announced over the tannoy as “the Wizard of Oz” after his first goal, a powerfully graceful diving header from Mark Robinson’s pinpoint cross, and “Crocodile McBreen” after his second, a handsome dipping shot over Kevin Scriven’s head from 25 yards out which killed the game with six minutes to play; a couple of fine ways to sign out.
We stuck at the task in the most part, without causing keeper Michael Ingham much in the way of trouble, and we applauded our side off for their efforts to get to this point but with the tacit acknowledgement that, well hey, today wasn’t our day; Wembley will have to wait for another year. Whatever will be will be. This season’s two wins over Crawley in the Cup and Trophy perhaps made us believe that lightening always strikes twice. Having returned from York for the second season in a row, but this time without the same rictus smiles on our faces, we can appreciate that that it doesn’t always work that way.
For the remaining two months we have an even bigger mountain to climb. At the plateau near the top is a flag that reads ‘safety’. We’ll want to claim that as quickly as we can. If we can make the actual top where there’s another flag that says “sufficient run-in form as to give plenty of confidence in the team and management for 2009/10” then so much the better, but let’s take it one step at a time.
Sunday, 22 February 2009
Wednesday, 18 February 2009
Havant & Waterlooville 2 Crawley Town 0
16feb09
FA Trophy 3rd Round
West Leigh Park, Havant
att. 413
Ah, fill the cup: - what boots it to repeat
How time is slipping underneath our feet
Unborn TOMORROW, and dead YESTERDAY
Why fret about them if TODAY be sweet
from The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám by Edward Fitzgerald
If you weren’t already aware it is, in fact, October again. So soon, you cry, like the eager autumnuses you are. Well, yes, all the clues are there. Our league position is grave in the big picture, on the cusp of a turned corner in the short term. A bit like October. Also, Conference Premier mob Crawley Town are playing us in a national FA knockout competition. They had a go at that just prior to Halloween too, as you may remember.
This season we and Crawley have been regular bedfellows, having been brought together in cups more often than Nescafé granules and milk. First it was the FA Cup, then the Setanta Shield (essentially the Conference League Cup) and now we meet in the FA Trophy. Had it not been for our troublesome geographical anchor, we’d have had fancied our chances of dinging them out of the Sussex Senior Cup as well.
Mind you that last sentence glosses over the fact that, fair enough, they sent us spinning out of the Setanta Shield to the tune of a 3-0 beating. However, this was merely their riposte for our similar result in the same stadium ten days prior that had ended their interest in the FA Cup 1st Round business. As rejoinders go, it was like responding to a withering half-hour character assassination by saying “yeah…well…I know you are…but…but what am I” and blowing a raspberry that gets trapped behind your lips.
The Setanta Shield isn’t bad for a bit of prize money round-on-round, but it ain’t half as lucrative as playing a league club in the Cup on the telly. As we did. You may have seen it. Well, more likely you saw an advert and said, “well, I might chuck it on if there’s nothing else on. And we’re not going out. Or eating. Or we’ve got the Jenga out again. I love Jenga.”
However, like I say, it is October again, and this game was largely approached much like that FA Cup tie, with a sense of ‘well, whatever’ resignation that comes with following a side struggling in the league upon facing opponents from divisions above.
Yet it appears for all our woeful performances in the Conference South this season, Shaun Gale is a manager of make-do-and-mend. He clearly thrives on it. Last season we threw out XI’s in the FA Cup proper rounds that were so patched up they were virtually mummified. We did alright. For this game, new signings Paul Hinshelwood, Wes Fogden and Louis Castles were cup-tied or signed too late (for the original playing of this tie on January 31st anyway – this being the fifth attempt to get this game going, rain and snow scuppering the previous four). In addition Jamie Collins and Shaun Wilkinson were suspended (the latter on loan at Lewes at the minute anyhow) whilst Gary Holloway was injured.
As such, Ian Simpemba, who during ITV’s lengthy build up to our game against Brentford in the FA Cup, was seen having the piss ripped out of him by his team-mates in the dressing room for mistakenly saying to camera that he was a centre midfielder rather than a centre half, appeared, err…, in centre midfield. Wish fulfilment there it appears, and tactical masterstroke, by hook or by crook anyway.
Matt Gray slotted into a right back position that he has been known to play, but hasn’t been for us ordinarily, while striker Luke Nightingale played on the wing. Jay Gasson made a rare start in his rightful position of centre-back in Simpemba’s place, while the bench featured three bumfluffed Academy faces. So cobbled together were we, we had begun to look like a 15th century high street.
Despite this the first half was cagey, a few little openings here and there at either end but nothing major. Ten minutes before the break however, Craig Watkins latched on to Paul Booth’s through-ball, capitalising on Adam Quinn’s error, and hurtled towards the Crawley goal. With big keeper Simon Rayner coming at him as though in the midst of a haka-like war dance, and Craig having been known to blow opportunities of the type on a more then regular basis, we counted no chickens. However, rather than over-think it, Craig hammered the ball with the outside of his foot into the corner of the net; a quality emphatic finish from a player whose confidence grows week-on-week. Suddenly, the belief rose and although Kevin Scriven was required to make a save from Dannie Bulman five minutes later, we fans went into half-time with, that rare treat this season, smiles on our faces. Crawley manager Steve Evans went into half-time trying to fight people on his way down the tunnel, causing a flash of neon past the tea queue as our stewarding crew sped to the scene.
As was to be expected, Crawley came at us with successive waves of attack, keeping possession and generally making those of us behind their keeper rather nervous. It wasn’t until fifteen minutes from time that m’chum Simon behind the goal made reference to it being squeaky bum time but, frankly, my behind had been sounding like new plimsolls on damp lino since the ref had whistled to start the second half.
In the end, the two pivotal moments of the half occurred within two minutes of each other. Firstly Kevin Scriven punched a cross clear, only for the ball to fall at the feet of Bulman. He lifted it over Scrivs and it looked to be heading just inside the post. Then out of nowhere Jay Gasson, appearing to be auditioning for a role in a ’09 remix video of Carl Douglas’ Kung Fu Fighting and possibly screaming “aiiieeeeeeeee” speared his foot in from the shadows and made a vital block that will keep us doffing caps for some months.
Soon after, the midget winger Robbie Martin, on in place of the midget winger Charlie Henry, danced into the box and went over defender Sam Rent’s leg as though it were a late refusal of an abrupt steeplechase jump, with Martin being the jockey (to scale) and the leg being the horse. A penalty was awarded, and Luke Nightingale stepped up to repeat the trick of his first penalty against Chelmsford last month (and thankfully not the second) and jammed it into the very top corner, well out of reach.
Despite the two goal cushion, we had not the confidence to sing any songs concerning going to Wem-ber-lee until the final whistle had long since died away. However those, as well as a, these days, sporadic outing for Under The Moon Of Love, were bellowed joyfully, and the logistical planning for a trip to Yorkshire on five days notice was begun.
So, for the time being, until this weekend at least, we’re with Edward Fitzgerald. Hopefully though, the fact that we need only win two more ties, the first of which will be at York City this coming Saturday (a ground where, of course, we have previous), to get to the final, will not completely distract us from the fact that we rarely perform like this in the league. As a result of this we find ourselves two places and a single point above the relegation zone, with fixture congestion continuing to build up – and which would not be exactly helped by a two-legged Trophy semi-final on the two middle Saturdays in March. Certainly, a big Wembley day out will have a bittersweet taste if we’re facing up to Southern League football once again.
Road to Wembley
F: Stevenage Borough 2 York City 0 (att. 27,198)
SF2: York City 2 AFC Telford United 1 (att. 3,512)
SF1: AFC Telford United 0 York City 2 (att. 2,792)
4R: York City 2 Havant & Waterlooville 0 (att. 1,679) [BM87]
3R: Havant & Waterlooville 2 Crawley Town 0
2Rr: Havant & Waterlooville 4 Lewes 3 (att. 302)
2R: Cambridge United 0 Crawley Town 5 (att. 1,233)
2R: Lewes 3 Havant & Waterlooville 3 (att. 258)
1R: Chesham United 2 Crawley Town 4 (att. 399)
1R: Havant & Waterlooville 3 Bury Town 1 (att. 232)
3QR: Fisher Athletic 0 Havant & Waterlooville 2 (att. 170)
Links
Havant & Waterlooville website
Crawley Town website
FA Trophy 3rd Round
West Leigh Park, Havant
att. 413
Ah, fill the cup: - what boots it to repeat
How time is slipping underneath our feet
Unborn TOMORROW, and dead YESTERDAY
Why fret about them if TODAY be sweet
from The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám by Edward Fitzgerald
If you weren’t already aware it is, in fact, October again. So soon, you cry, like the eager autumnuses you are. Well, yes, all the clues are there. Our league position is grave in the big picture, on the cusp of a turned corner in the short term. A bit like October. Also, Conference Premier mob Crawley Town are playing us in a national FA knockout competition. They had a go at that just prior to Halloween too, as you may remember.
This season we and Crawley have been regular bedfellows, having been brought together in cups more often than Nescafé granules and milk. First it was the FA Cup, then the Setanta Shield (essentially the Conference League Cup) and now we meet in the FA Trophy. Had it not been for our troublesome geographical anchor, we’d have had fancied our chances of dinging them out of the Sussex Senior Cup as well.
Mind you that last sentence glosses over the fact that, fair enough, they sent us spinning out of the Setanta Shield to the tune of a 3-0 beating. However, this was merely their riposte for our similar result in the same stadium ten days prior that had ended their interest in the FA Cup 1st Round business. As rejoinders go, it was like responding to a withering half-hour character assassination by saying “yeah…well…I know you are…but…but what am I” and blowing a raspberry that gets trapped behind your lips.
The Setanta Shield isn’t bad for a bit of prize money round-on-round, but it ain’t half as lucrative as playing a league club in the Cup on the telly. As we did. You may have seen it. Well, more likely you saw an advert and said, “well, I might chuck it on if there’s nothing else on. And we’re not going out. Or eating. Or we’ve got the Jenga out again. I love Jenga.”
However, like I say, it is October again, and this game was largely approached much like that FA Cup tie, with a sense of ‘well, whatever’ resignation that comes with following a side struggling in the league upon facing opponents from divisions above.
Yet it appears for all our woeful performances in the Conference South this season, Shaun Gale is a manager of make-do-and-mend. He clearly thrives on it. Last season we threw out XI’s in the FA Cup proper rounds that were so patched up they were virtually mummified. We did alright. For this game, new signings Paul Hinshelwood, Wes Fogden and Louis Castles were cup-tied or signed too late (for the original playing of this tie on January 31st anyway – this being the fifth attempt to get this game going, rain and snow scuppering the previous four). In addition Jamie Collins and Shaun Wilkinson were suspended (the latter on loan at Lewes at the minute anyhow) whilst Gary Holloway was injured.
As such, Ian Simpemba, who during ITV’s lengthy build up to our game against Brentford in the FA Cup, was seen having the piss ripped out of him by his team-mates in the dressing room for mistakenly saying to camera that he was a centre midfielder rather than a centre half, appeared, err…, in centre midfield. Wish fulfilment there it appears, and tactical masterstroke, by hook or by crook anyway.
Matt Gray slotted into a right back position that he has been known to play, but hasn’t been for us ordinarily, while striker Luke Nightingale played on the wing. Jay Gasson made a rare start in his rightful position of centre-back in Simpemba’s place, while the bench featured three bumfluffed Academy faces. So cobbled together were we, we had begun to look like a 15th century high street.
Despite this the first half was cagey, a few little openings here and there at either end but nothing major. Ten minutes before the break however, Craig Watkins latched on to Paul Booth’s through-ball, capitalising on Adam Quinn’s error, and hurtled towards the Crawley goal. With big keeper Simon Rayner coming at him as though in the midst of a haka-like war dance, and Craig having been known to blow opportunities of the type on a more then regular basis, we counted no chickens. However, rather than over-think it, Craig hammered the ball with the outside of his foot into the corner of the net; a quality emphatic finish from a player whose confidence grows week-on-week. Suddenly, the belief rose and although Kevin Scriven was required to make a save from Dannie Bulman five minutes later, we fans went into half-time with, that rare treat this season, smiles on our faces. Crawley manager Steve Evans went into half-time trying to fight people on his way down the tunnel, causing a flash of neon past the tea queue as our stewarding crew sped to the scene.
As was to be expected, Crawley came at us with successive waves of attack, keeping possession and generally making those of us behind their keeper rather nervous. It wasn’t until fifteen minutes from time that m’chum Simon behind the goal made reference to it being squeaky bum time but, frankly, my behind had been sounding like new plimsolls on damp lino since the ref had whistled to start the second half.
In the end, the two pivotal moments of the half occurred within two minutes of each other. Firstly Kevin Scriven punched a cross clear, only for the ball to fall at the feet of Bulman. He lifted it over Scrivs and it looked to be heading just inside the post. Then out of nowhere Jay Gasson, appearing to be auditioning for a role in a ’09 remix video of Carl Douglas’ Kung Fu Fighting and possibly screaming “aiiieeeeeeeee” speared his foot in from the shadows and made a vital block that will keep us doffing caps for some months.
Soon after, the midget winger Robbie Martin, on in place of the midget winger Charlie Henry, danced into the box and went over defender Sam Rent’s leg as though it were a late refusal of an abrupt steeplechase jump, with Martin being the jockey (to scale) and the leg being the horse. A penalty was awarded, and Luke Nightingale stepped up to repeat the trick of his first penalty against Chelmsford last month (and thankfully not the second) and jammed it into the very top corner, well out of reach.
Despite the two goal cushion, we had not the confidence to sing any songs concerning going to Wem-ber-lee until the final whistle had long since died away. However those, as well as a, these days, sporadic outing for Under The Moon Of Love, were bellowed joyfully, and the logistical planning for a trip to Yorkshire on five days notice was begun.
So, for the time being, until this weekend at least, we’re with Edward Fitzgerald. Hopefully though, the fact that we need only win two more ties, the first of which will be at York City this coming Saturday (a ground where, of course, we have previous), to get to the final, will not completely distract us from the fact that we rarely perform like this in the league. As a result of this we find ourselves two places and a single point above the relegation zone, with fixture congestion continuing to build up – and which would not be exactly helped by a two-legged Trophy semi-final on the two middle Saturdays in March. Certainly, a big Wembley day out will have a bittersweet taste if we’re facing up to Southern League football once again.
Road to Wembley
F: Stevenage Borough 2 York City 0 (att. 27,198)
SF2: York City 2 AFC Telford United 1 (att. 3,512)
SF1: AFC Telford United 0 York City 2 (att. 2,792)
4R: York City 2 Havant & Waterlooville 0 (att. 1,679) [BM87]
3R: Havant & Waterlooville 2 Crawley Town 0
2Rr: Havant & Waterlooville 4 Lewes 3 (att. 302)
2R: Cambridge United 0 Crawley Town 5 (att. 1,233)
2R: Lewes 3 Havant & Waterlooville 3 (att. 258)
1R: Chesham United 2 Crawley Town 4 (att. 399)
1R: Havant & Waterlooville 3 Bury Town 1 (att. 232)
3QR: Fisher Athletic 0 Havant & Waterlooville 2 (att. 170)
Links
Havant & Waterlooville website
Crawley Town website
Monday, 16 February 2009
ds 80s/90s: Neil Ruddock
Another in the irregular series of the questionairre interviews I undertook with top flight footballers of the late 80's and early 90's that happened to play for Southampton FC. I was young, extremely sad and a Saint. It wasn't to last. Apart, of course, from the sadness, which clings to me like a winnet to particularly dense peri-anal hair.
This time out we'll go with that jungle celebrity, Glasgow kiss enthusiast* and sporter of ever increasing arse-cheeks, Neil Ruddock, who clearly had a fondness for using (and possibly sniffing) giant markers**. Ordinarily I would embolden the questions to set them apart but to fully display the visual impact of Razor's replies, I present them in bold and verbatim both in text and capitalisation.
*One of my most vivid memories of ocassionally going to the Dell back in the early 90's is of Razor applying some solid forehead to a Notts County defender's schnoz. Perhaps the most shocking bit of that sentence is the thought that having seen Notts County play in the top flight, I must now be getting on a bit. Eek.
**the dubSteps legal team have asked me to point out that the sniffing bit probably isn't the case.
>What is your best ever goal?
MILLWALL V A. VILLA. 35 YARD HALF VOLLEY.
>What is you most important goal?
PENALTY AGAINST NEWCASTLE [note: said penalty, which I witnessed live as a twelve year old, ended a run of twenty games without a win and started Southampton’s then traditional road to eleventh hour safety]
>What is your favourite bit of clothing?
JEANS
>Did you collect autographs as a lad?
NO
>How you won any proffesional [sic] awards?
2 FOOTBALL COMBINATION WINNERS MEDALS
>Were you desperate to leave Millwall?
YES.
>Do you play any other sports?
GOLF
>Did you enjoy your time at Spurs?
YES
>What is your favourite TV programme?
GENERATION GAME.
>Do you collect football programmes?
NO
>Did you ever score for Spurs?
YES
>Is it true that if Tim [Flowers] was injured you would be first to grab the jersey?
YES
>Do you enjoy playing alongside Russell Osman?
YES. Because he makes me look handsome.
>Do you get on well with [the Russian players in the Saints team] Alexei [Cherednik] and Sergei [Gotsmanov]?
Yes.
>Who do you always turn off on the telly?
ORVILLE.
>Have you stopped doing ‘the Stomp’ [Neil Ruddock’s trademark goal celebration] after you score now because you didn’t do it v Chelsea because if you have the[y] can stop marketing the ‘Stomp’ t-shirts outside the Dell?
NO.
>When does your contract come to an end?
1992
>Do you have rows with [coach] Dennis Rofe?
YES
>With [manager] Chris Nicholl?
LOADS
Thanks Neil. See you at the Dell
Previously, on dubSteps.
An in-depth interview with Alan McGloughlin.
This time out we'll go with that jungle celebrity, Glasgow kiss enthusiast* and sporter of ever increasing arse-cheeks, Neil Ruddock, who clearly had a fondness for using (and possibly sniffing) giant markers**. Ordinarily I would embolden the questions to set them apart but to fully display the visual impact of Razor's replies, I present them in bold and verbatim both in text and capitalisation.
*One of my most vivid memories of ocassionally going to the Dell back in the early 90's is of Razor applying some solid forehead to a Notts County defender's schnoz. Perhaps the most shocking bit of that sentence is the thought that having seen Notts County play in the top flight, I must now be getting on a bit. Eek.
**the dubSteps legal team have asked me to point out that the sniffing bit probably isn't the case.
>What is your best ever goal?
MILLWALL V A. VILLA. 35 YARD HALF VOLLEY.
>What is you most important goal?
PENALTY AGAINST NEWCASTLE [note: said penalty, which I witnessed live as a twelve year old, ended a run of twenty games without a win and started Southampton’s then traditional road to eleventh hour safety]
>What is your favourite bit of clothing?
JEANS
>Did you collect autographs as a lad?
NO
>How you won any proffesional [sic] awards?
2 FOOTBALL COMBINATION WINNERS MEDALS
>Were you desperate to leave Millwall?
YES.
>Do you play any other sports?
GOLF
>Did you enjoy your time at Spurs?
YES
>What is your favourite TV programme?
GENERATION GAME.
>Do you collect football programmes?
NO
>Did you ever score for Spurs?
YES
>Is it true that if Tim [Flowers] was injured you would be first to grab the jersey?
YES
>Do you enjoy playing alongside Russell Osman?
YES. Because he makes me look handsome.
>Do you get on well with [the Russian players in the Saints team] Alexei [Cherednik] and Sergei [Gotsmanov]?
Yes.
>Who do you always turn off on the telly?
ORVILLE.
>Have you stopped doing ‘the Stomp’ [Neil Ruddock’s trademark goal celebration] after you score now because you didn’t do it v Chelsea because if you have the[y] can stop marketing the ‘Stomp’ t-shirts outside the Dell?
NO.
>When does your contract come to an end?
1992
>Do you have rows with [coach] Dennis Rofe?
YES
>With [manager] Chris Nicholl?
LOADS
Thanks Neil. See you at the Dell
Previously, on dubSteps.
An in-depth interview with Alan McGloughlin.
Monday, 9 February 2009
Dinamo Zagreb B
Well, I'm assuming this second pitch with its own seats tucked under the east stand of the main Maksimir Stadion would be used by their stiffs anyway. Will update if I find out different.
Hobo in my pocket #23
Previously on Dub Steps
Maksimir Stadion, Zagreb
from the Vanity Project archive.
The Magic Band
Highbury Garage. 28jun04
I can see all the arguments against this. Sure, a Magic Band without its Captain [Beefheart] is not quite the draw it could be, but with Don Van Vliet now 22 years into musical retirement, some of us younger fans now get to at least glimpse the majesty of live Magic. Besides, to cast this reunion aside as a glorified tribute act is to devalue the players’ contribution to the music as, despite some perceptions, this was no one-man show. However at no stage did this current formation perform together on stage or in the studio with the Captain. While Mark ‘Rockette Morton’ Boston and John ‘Drumbo’ French both had long associations, including the ‘Trout Mask Replica’ experience, Gary ‘Mantis’ Lucas enters through the ‘Ice Cream For Crow’ back door and Denny ‘Feelers Rebo’ Walley fits snugly between the eras. This however adds strength as, with perhaps the exception of debut single ‘Diddy Wah Diddy’, there is some personal involvement with each tune. What really startles (and this should not affect the view of the Captain’s genius) is that John French does not just offer a pale imitation behind the mic, rather that his vocals magnificently mirror the Captain’s strength and range. This is none more evident than when, as Rockette Morton changes a bass string, Drumbo fills the void with stirring unaccompanied hobo poetry a la Van Vliet. The music sounds pristine also with ‘Trout Mask”’ stuff, like ‘Steal Softly Thru Snow’, making a lot more sense when heard live. All very impressive, but when ‘Electricity’ kicks in, when ‘The Floppy Boot Stomp’ rises from nowhere, when they hit the coda of ‘Circumstances’ OH MY F***** GOD! What makes this gig stand out for me is that usually the morning after a great show, the whole experience feels forever gone and perhaps with hindsight was not as amazing as the atmosphere made it. However this gig continues to augment itself in my mind as it all clicks together to just how extraordinary it was. Typical of all things magic I suppose.
Monday, 2 February 2009
guestSteps: Bury 4 Gillingham 0
22nov08
League Two
Gigg Lane, Bury
att. 2,068
Black and White and Read All Over type Ben is back once more. Clearly recent trips to Cardiff City and Didcot Town have not been enough, and so a trip to Bury does what it can to satisfy a need.
Hmm, how to avoid any painful knowledge of Newcastle’s annual gubbing at Stamford Bridge? How’s about going to a completely different game in a completely different division that’s being played at exactly the same time? That’ll do.
And so it is that I’m stood in the high-ceilinged, predominantly windowless cube that goes by the name of Bury FC Social Club with my companion for the day, Gillingham fan Adam, pint in hand and the dregs of the Plymouth v Cardiff lunchtime kick-off on the big screen. Gigg Lane is a dry stadium, but visiting fans are welcome as non-members in the Social Club next door for the princely sum of £1 each.
Which makes the choice of the music to which the home side run out on what is a bitterly cold afternoon, ‘Welcome To The Jungle’ by Guns ‘N’ Roses, all the more ridiculous – it’s hardly an unfriendly or outright intimidating place to visit. Not only are there cheerleaders before kick-off, for fuck’s sake, there’s hardly anybody here – the attendance barely scrapes past the 2,000 mark and the end opposite ours is so sparsely occupied that our view of the white seats spelling out “BURY” is almost completely unimpeded. It’s remarkable, and disappointing, that a town the size of Bury can muster so little enthusiasm for a team that has, after all, topped the League Two table for a period this season.
Bury are going into today’s game on a bad run, though, having slipped to a shock 2-0 defeat at home to lowly Grimsby in their last outing, while the Gills were busy thrashing 10-man Rotherham 4-0. What’s more, it’s less than a fortnight since this very fixture in the FA Cup 1st Round ended 1-0 to the visitors.
So, naturally, it’s Bury who take the lead within the first ten minutes, sloppy defending gifting Andy Bishop an opportunity which he coolly converts. Gillingham’s response is muted, though a glancing header from a corner flies fortuitously straight into the hands of Shakers ‘keeper Wayne Brown and only a couple of superb blocks and slide tackles from those in front of him ensure he isn’t troubled again.
As the largely uneventful half wears on, the only real amusement comes in the form of the Gills fans’ chants of “Are you in the BNP?” to the referee following a dubious decision penalising their black winger Albert Jarrett – don’t they know there’s a handy way to find out? I find myself drifting off into speculating whether Gillingham left-back Ben Nutter’s ever been sent off for violent conduct when, five minutes before the break, the defence of which he’s a part has another collective moment of madness, allowing Bishop’s strike partner Glynn Hurst to head home powerfully at the near post from a corner.
Half-time, and a good opportunity to tell you my anecdote about Gills manager Mark Stimson. Once upon a time (well, the early ‘90s), when still in possession of a blonde centre-parting, Stimson was part of the Newcastle squad that won promotion to the Premier League. To celebrate the achievement, an open top bus parade was planned from Gosforth to the Civic Centre. Naturally I had to be there. As the bus passed by, fans were throwing all manner of things up to the players, and when it reached my vantage point on Gosforth High Street I noticed Stimson looking down directly at me. He gestured at my scarf and then mimed a throwing action – and I thought about it for a moment, and then, maintaining eye contact, shook my head. Well, he was only a bit-part player, after all, and I was rather fond of that scarf…
Anyway, where were we? Ah yes. While half-time presents many freezing fans with the chance to thaw out with a hot cup of Bovril (sorry, but there’s just something very wrong about a hot drink that tastes of meat), three take the opportunity to sneak a crafty fag in the toilets, only to find themselves escorted from the premises by some very efficient stewards. At the time, I shake my head at the fact that they’ve travelled hundreds of miles only to get themselves chucked out after 45 minutes, but with hindsight we reflect that they probably had the right idea.
Initially, though it looks as though the stern half-time talking-to - accompanied, one imagines, by more smashed crockery than you might find at a Greek wedding - has had the desired effect. Gillingham tails are up and, with ex-Arsenal schoolboy Jarrett marauding with a LuaLua-esque unpredictability down the left, they seem to be sniffing a way back into the match.
But they can get no change out of the miserly Bury back four, marshalled gallingly by a former Gill, 36-year-old Nigerian international Efe Sodje, and another goal apiece for the dynamic duo of Bishop and Hurst either side of the hour mark - both the consequence of more farcical defending - extinguish any hopes of a comeback like a fire hose putting out a tea light.
What amusement there is left for the travelling support to glean from the afternoon as they get more frozen by the second comes in the form of the cheerleaders ruffling and raising their pom-poms along to the foul-mouthed chants emanating from the family section. Certainly, events on the pitch give no cause for celebration - even when substitute Mark McCammon (on to an almighty groan from my companion) is felled by Brown for a textbook spot-kick, the ‘keeper somehow avoids an early bath, picks himself up and paws away Adam Miller’s penalty.
4-0 it finishes, and given that my companion’s previous Gillingham away game this season was their 7-0 trouncing by Shrewsbury, perhaps he should just steer well clear?
Making our way out of the ground and back towards the town centre, we pass the Gills’ team coach parked on a side street (quite why it hasn’t been allocated a parking space outside the ground I’m not sure). The driver’s sat vigilantly as though he’s been there all game trying to fend off local scallies intent on nicking the hubcaps. I crane my neck and peer up through the smoked glass to catch the final scores on Soccer Saturday - and would you believe it, we’ve managed to scramble not only a draw but a clean sheet at Stamford Bridge!
Time to celebrate, for me at least. Adam accepts his bottle of Forever Bury beer (all profits from which go to the Shakers) with a smile of pained gratitude.
Ben Woolhead
League Two
Gigg Lane, Bury
att. 2,068
Black and White and Read All Over type Ben is back once more. Clearly recent trips to Cardiff City and Didcot Town have not been enough, and so a trip to Bury does what it can to satisfy a need.
Hmm, how to avoid any painful knowledge of Newcastle’s annual gubbing at Stamford Bridge? How’s about going to a completely different game in a completely different division that’s being played at exactly the same time? That’ll do.
And so it is that I’m stood in the high-ceilinged, predominantly windowless cube that goes by the name of Bury FC Social Club with my companion for the day, Gillingham fan Adam, pint in hand and the dregs of the Plymouth v Cardiff lunchtime kick-off on the big screen. Gigg Lane is a dry stadium, but visiting fans are welcome as non-members in the Social Club next door for the princely sum of £1 each.
Which makes the choice of the music to which the home side run out on what is a bitterly cold afternoon, ‘Welcome To The Jungle’ by Guns ‘N’ Roses, all the more ridiculous – it’s hardly an unfriendly or outright intimidating place to visit. Not only are there cheerleaders before kick-off, for fuck’s sake, there’s hardly anybody here – the attendance barely scrapes past the 2,000 mark and the end opposite ours is so sparsely occupied that our view of the white seats spelling out “BURY” is almost completely unimpeded. It’s remarkable, and disappointing, that a town the size of Bury can muster so little enthusiasm for a team that has, after all, topped the League Two table for a period this season.
Bury are going into today’s game on a bad run, though, having slipped to a shock 2-0 defeat at home to lowly Grimsby in their last outing, while the Gills were busy thrashing 10-man Rotherham 4-0. What’s more, it’s less than a fortnight since this very fixture in the FA Cup 1st Round ended 1-0 to the visitors.
So, naturally, it’s Bury who take the lead within the first ten minutes, sloppy defending gifting Andy Bishop an opportunity which he coolly converts. Gillingham’s response is muted, though a glancing header from a corner flies fortuitously straight into the hands of Shakers ‘keeper Wayne Brown and only a couple of superb blocks and slide tackles from those in front of him ensure he isn’t troubled again.
As the largely uneventful half wears on, the only real amusement comes in the form of the Gills fans’ chants of “Are you in the BNP?” to the referee following a dubious decision penalising their black winger Albert Jarrett – don’t they know there’s a handy way to find out? I find myself drifting off into speculating whether Gillingham left-back Ben Nutter’s ever been sent off for violent conduct when, five minutes before the break, the defence of which he’s a part has another collective moment of madness, allowing Bishop’s strike partner Glynn Hurst to head home powerfully at the near post from a corner.
Half-time, and a good opportunity to tell you my anecdote about Gills manager Mark Stimson. Once upon a time (well, the early ‘90s), when still in possession of a blonde centre-parting, Stimson was part of the Newcastle squad that won promotion to the Premier League. To celebrate the achievement, an open top bus parade was planned from Gosforth to the Civic Centre. Naturally I had to be there. As the bus passed by, fans were throwing all manner of things up to the players, and when it reached my vantage point on Gosforth High Street I noticed Stimson looking down directly at me. He gestured at my scarf and then mimed a throwing action – and I thought about it for a moment, and then, maintaining eye contact, shook my head. Well, he was only a bit-part player, after all, and I was rather fond of that scarf…
Anyway, where were we? Ah yes. While half-time presents many freezing fans with the chance to thaw out with a hot cup of Bovril (sorry, but there’s just something very wrong about a hot drink that tastes of meat), three take the opportunity to sneak a crafty fag in the toilets, only to find themselves escorted from the premises by some very efficient stewards. At the time, I shake my head at the fact that they’ve travelled hundreds of miles only to get themselves chucked out after 45 minutes, but with hindsight we reflect that they probably had the right idea.
Initially, though it looks as though the stern half-time talking-to - accompanied, one imagines, by more smashed crockery than you might find at a Greek wedding - has had the desired effect. Gillingham tails are up and, with ex-Arsenal schoolboy Jarrett marauding with a LuaLua-esque unpredictability down the left, they seem to be sniffing a way back into the match.
But they can get no change out of the miserly Bury back four, marshalled gallingly by a former Gill, 36-year-old Nigerian international Efe Sodje, and another goal apiece for the dynamic duo of Bishop and Hurst either side of the hour mark - both the consequence of more farcical defending - extinguish any hopes of a comeback like a fire hose putting out a tea light.
What amusement there is left for the travelling support to glean from the afternoon as they get more frozen by the second comes in the form of the cheerleaders ruffling and raising their pom-poms along to the foul-mouthed chants emanating from the family section. Certainly, events on the pitch give no cause for celebration - even when substitute Mark McCammon (on to an almighty groan from my companion) is felled by Brown for a textbook spot-kick, the ‘keeper somehow avoids an early bath, picks himself up and paws away Adam Miller’s penalty.
4-0 it finishes, and given that my companion’s previous Gillingham away game this season was their 7-0 trouncing by Shrewsbury, perhaps he should just steer well clear?
Making our way out of the ground and back towards the town centre, we pass the Gills’ team coach parked on a side street (quite why it hasn’t been allocated a parking space outside the ground I’m not sure). The driver’s sat vigilantly as though he’s been there all game trying to fend off local scallies intent on nicking the hubcaps. I crane my neck and peer up through the smoked glass to catch the final scores on Soccer Saturday - and would you believe it, we’ve managed to scramble not only a draw but a clean sheet at Stamford Bridge!
Time to celebrate, for me at least. Adam accepts his bottle of Forever Bury beer (all profits from which go to the Shakers) with a smile of pained gratitude.
Ben Woolhead
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)