Havant & Waterlooville 1 Maidenhead United 0

28nov09
Conference South
West Leigh Park, Havant
att. 681

In a famine, any scraps will feel like a feast. As such, after three weeks of no football for me (partly my fault for missing the 4-1 win at Thurrock in the FA Trophy last week, but mostly the weather’s fault), a scrappy affair in the pouring rain tasted like Christmas dinner. Well, to cut the hyperbole down to a more appropriate size, a bit of some Christmas dinner. Today was perhaps a single roast potato, a chipolata (minus the bacon blanket) and a teaspoons worth of peas.

They say a week is a long time in politics but it’s not such a long time in football. Not enough time to fully forget the horror of the previous desperate performance or for the delight of a stormer to properly sink the foreboding of disappointments yet to come.

However three weeks without a game is a refresher, a wet-wipe for your grubby memories. The idea of going to football becomes genuinly exciting again. Thus I headed down to Havant expecting, well, half expecting a postponement to be truthful. That consideration aside, there was a feeling in my stomach, familiar but distant, like an Australian cousin. After much deliberation, I concluded that this must be optimism, returning unexpectedly after some time away in a Kibbutz to get to know itself.

However optimism, vis-à-vis football, is only ever really like your own 4th birthday party. It starts well with jelly, ice-cream and midget gems, but usually ends up with you weeping uncontrollably into your Mum’s apron because your old man forgot to ‘fix’ the pass the parcel.

Yet it doesn’t put you off feeling it, wanting further parties and presents. After all, sometimes the music does stop at the right time and you get your candy necklace, albeit speckled with ink. Today we just about had the energy to rip apart our layer cake of tabloid newsprint and get to the goodie that was ours for the taking.

Not that the first half suggested that this might be so. Not that the second half that suggested it might be so either, frankly. We were struggling to tear the paper off it so, tired of waiting for us to get on with it, Maidenhead eventually ripped the bundle off us, tore out our sweet and jabbed it into our hand, exclaiming, “Geez, we’d have been here all day if we’d left it to you”.

Quite the act of exasperated benevolence then for Mark Nisbet to place the ball deftly off his instep past his own keeper, Chris Tardif, ten minutes into the second half. A fine finish. ‘One F in Tardif’, formerly of our parish, made a couple of excellent saves to prevent any further addition to our sweet collection, and we just about managed to get to full time without Maidenhead getting any sugar for themselves.

Looking back over it, this write-up may feel a little cheerless given it was our first league win since the start of September, but it really was a pretty dreadful game of football. Yet, despite this, three points and victory, sweet partially fortuitous victory, is a huge boost and you can be assured that inside I am dancing. I’m just not ready to sling on the tap shoes, white tie and tails and give it the full Lionel Blair in public just yet.

The top hat stays in its box for now.

hobo in my pocket #30

Kentish Town 1 Wellingborough Town 1

17aug08
FA Cup Extra Preliminary Round
Copthall Stadium, Holders Hill
att. 179

Previously, on Dub Steps
17aug08: Kentish Town 1 Wellingborough Town 1

Hobo in my pocket 30


from the Vanity Project archive (issue #17 - February 2006)

The Research.
Liverpool Barfly Loft. 17jan06

“I love you, but I’m afraid I’ll fuck it up”. This lyric speak volumes when trying to sum up The Research. Haphazard, reticent, joyous, they are like schmindie’s answer to both Kid Carpet and 60’s punk. That tune in particular takes their central David O’Doherty-like tweeness and fans it into apastel-toned psychedelic swirl. Beyond the lo-fi wrangling of a cheap Casio, what appears their gimmick at face value, is their real deal: the harmonies, particularly when the two ladies supply a Shangri-La shimmer should be their calling card along with the courteous drum-beats and garage basslines.

Wealdstone 2 Rotherham United 3

08nov09
FA Cup 1st Round
Grosvenor Vale, Ruislip
att. 1,638

This site has been covering the formative rounds of the FA Cup for some years now, both in a Havant & ‘Ville context, as well as a neutral ‘ain’t non-league wunnerful’ bent. There is a danger with this though, that one might start to repeat oneself, creating one’s own clichés in the attempt to avoid others. So, for a change, let’s keep the flannel to a barest minimum and simply say this: FA Cup 1st Round Proper. Non-league side at home. League side visiting. You know how it works by now.

Wealdstone were winning the Conference twenty-five years ago this season, two years before that came with an automatic right to a leg-up over the wall, but within four years they were relegated and have not been back since. They lost their old Lower Mead home in 1991, and shared with Watford, Yeading, Edgware Town and Northwood before taking the opportunity to take over Grosvenor Vale, from Ruislip Manor.

The place certainly required a bit of love to get it to Isthmian Premier League standard and it’s certainly feels a lot tidier and shinier than when I came to watch Manor here just prior to their departure to Tokyngton. That was only 18 months ago but that night the place looked so tired, the turnstile doors were being held open with matchsticks.

Now, with a lick of blue paint around the fixtures and fittings, a few crush barriers on the far end terrace and, well, sixteen hundred extra punters, the place feels a lot more alive. Then again Wealdstone have always carried themselves with a certain spirit (some might say a little too much on occasions) to keep them going through two decades of ground sharing, so it is perhaps no surprise that the place gives off a more pronounced joie de vivre.

From afar, one gets the impression of Rotherham United’s support as being quite down to earth, despite their club’s problems with administration and being locked out, seemingly permanently, from their ground. Perhaps you need to live in Yorkshire to get a true impression but as a group they appear as inoffensive as a Postman Pat plotline (if we ignore the one where Mrs Goggins joins the National Front).

Certainly that’s the impression one would take from their turnout at Grosvenor Vale anyway. They displayed their civic pride regularly, singing “You’ve only come to see the Millers” and “York-shire! York-shire!” wholeheartedly, before a lone voice behind the goal cut through the nithering autumnal air, bellowing “I’d rather be Welsh!” by way of sniffy retort.

In the end, the tie turned out to be a great example of exciting FA Cup football but the first half wore a much dourer look, like one you might find slapped across the mooey of a jaded post office teller, for the first half hour at any rate. One of the ITV cameramen became so bored, he forgot which programme he was on and started following the swoops and dips of a pigeon in flight across the ground and, in doing so, missed a Rotherham header looping onto the roof of the net. Turning to the production assistant sat behind him, he wore a grin so sheepish, a farmer began whistling for his dog to bring it into line.

Having stood strong for half an hour, Wealdstone eventually gifted Rotherham the lead, keeper Sean Thomas aiming his clearance straight at the prowling arse of Adam LeFondre, whose charge down caused the ball to ricochet into the back of the empty net.

A minute prior to half-time Rotherham scored their second in much more handsome a style. The ball rolled to Kevin Ellison twenty-five yards out and he unleashed a crisp shot into the top corner. After this, the announcement came over the tannoy that the bar would not be opening for half-time nor, indeed, the rest of the game. The otherwise polite away throng acknowledged this by singing “you might as well go home” at the home support who responded with some eighties retro-banter, suggesting that the Millers, for their part, “might as well sign on.”

At half-time the Rotherham support looked quietly buoyant, as is their apparent style. “Don’t be daft cameraman, get a picture of a proper crowd” said one jazz-handsing middle-aged Yorkshireman, realising he was just out of shot. For the home crowd, and us neutrals, the cold bit that little bit harder, the game not exactly meeting our expectations for the occasion.

However, knowing that their club had been without a decent cup tie in quite some years (their last tie against a League side occurred in 1986 when they drew at home with, then lost away to, Swansea City), the Wealdstone players came out with the clear desire to get amongst the game and just after the hour, they had their goal, Ryan Ashe unleashing a handsome half-volley into the far corner past Andy Warrington’s dive.

As Rotherham came under a lot of pressure, Wealdstone sub Danny Spendlove missed a gilt-edged chance while Lee Chappell’s free-kick from the edge of the area caused Warrington to clutch at the ball above his head like a man trying to keep on a Stetson during an unexpected gust.

Just as it looked as though an equaliser was inevitable though, Rotherham delivered their suckerpunch, Drewe Broughton’s flicked header creeping in with seven minutes to go. However in the final minute, as the crowd was slowly filtering out, Ashe received the ball from Spendlove and curled a shot over Warrington to bring the score the deficit back to a single goal.

For the five minutes of injury time, Wealdstone laid fervent siege upon Rotherham’s half but the equaliser was not to come and we were left with valiant defeat for the underdogs. This, as much as the odd giant-killing, is kind of what the FA Cup is all about.

Previously, from Grosvenor Vale
17 March 2008: Ruislip Manor 1 Biggleswade Town 2 [pic 2] [pic 3]

Road to Wembley
F: Chelsea 1 Portsmouth 0 (att. 88,335)
SF: Tottenham Hotspur 0 Portsmouth 2 (att. 84,602)
6R: Portsmouth 2 Birmingham City 0 (att. 20,456)
5R: Southampton 1 Portsmouth 4 (att. 31,385)
4R: Southampton 2 Ipswich Town 1 (att. 20,446)
3R: Southampton 1 Luton Town 0 (att. 18,786)
2Rr: Luton Town 3 Rotherham United 0 (att. 2,518)
2R: Rotherham United 2 Luton Town 2 (att. 3,210)
1R: Wealdstone 2 Rotherham United 3
4QR: Aylesbury 2 Wealdstone 4 (att. 682)
3QR: Wealdstone 3 Lewes 0 (att. 530)
2QR: Boreham Wood 2 Wealdstone 4 (att. 249)
1QR: Arlesey Town 1 Wealdstone 2 (att. 236)

Havant & Waterlooville 0 Dorchester Town 1

07nov09
Conference South
West Leigh Park, Havant
att. 931

Our hopes for the season are like an orange. There I said it. I can tell you were expecting me to.

At the start of the season, with them away wins and that, our orange was plump and zesty. And why not, Manny Williams was scoring goals with such regularity it was though he was working away to a speed-metal beat; the defence appeared as solid as a nun’s chastity; we had about us a play-off challenging flair.

However with our six game form guide reading no wins, four draws and two defeats, the vibrancy of our orange’s colour has dulled, its skin is waxy and pallid; its firmness and buoyancy, like a great aunt’s bosom, has gone south.

What we are faced with is the prospect of going into the harshness of winter with a damp orange so whiskery with mould that it gets shortlisted for Beard of the Year. And, lets face it, no-one wants to find that in their stocking, festering beneath the candy canes and the bag o’ walnuts.

For some reason, it just isn’t happening anymore. As my esteemed colleague Lammy recently put it, “We seem to have developed two ways of playing. 1: playing really well and not winning and 2: playing poorly and not winning.”

Often we’ll have our chances and just not be able to put them away, as with today’s game, leaving us open to the suckerpunch when the almost inevitable howler comes. Today it was Gary MacDonald who must suffer the hot burning cheeks of shame, as his throw-in went straight to Dorchester feet inside our own half, allowing Jamie Gleeson a clear run and the chance to unleash a daisy-cutter that easily beat Aaron Howe, with twelve minutes to play.

The saddest part of this is that we’ve come to expect it; dominate the first half, score none (or not enough) and to throw it all way in the second period. There is no recent evidence to suggest that next weekend’s away game at Hampton & Richmond Borough will pan out any differently.

Regardless, I’ll be there, and so will our dimmed orange, looking increasingly like David Dickinson’s cadaver. I’m not sure if in the life of an actual fruit, a Dr Who-like regeneration can occur, but with any luck the orange that represents our aspiration can be given a new lease of life in south London.