8^th May 2004

Woodford United  1   Blackstones  1

On a freezing cold Wednesday evening in early January, while enduring the finer points of a trip to Bacup Borough, I had a dream, and it went something like this.

It was early May, the sun was beating down on a football ground somewhere in middle England, the grass was lush and the trees surrounding the stadium were green and swaying ever so gently in a mild breeze. I would be sat in shorts and a t-shirt, on the grassy knoll that makes up the terracing behind the goal with a pint of cold lager in hand, served, of course in a plastic glass. Life would not be better, this would be one of the days that the beautiful game was invented for.

Reality struck hard once May was upon us, for the first eight days of the month, all it had seemed to do was hammer it down with rain. My illusions had been shattered, and never did I think that I'd be phoning grounds at this stage to see if the matches were actually on!

Woodford United is in many ways a bit like what Squires Gate was for me, in the sense that I've been planning on going since about February, but twice on the day of the game I've had to make alternative arrangements due to the weather. However, I'd done a Cogenhoe and built up an idyllic image of the place, and like my vision of the May afternoon, it went something like this.

Woodford are a small village club who have risen quickly through the non-league ranks, they have built a lovely little stadium with tidy facilities, and they have all the amenities that the casual visitor would require like a spacious bar, while the team would be made up of promising youngsters, with a bright future. The locals would turn out in good numbers to support their team, and anyone who ever visited would leave with nothing other than good memories of the club. 

I'm going to have to stop dreaming, and tell you about the harsh realities of a May afternoon at idyllic Woodford

I should have known better, only on a recent visit to Buckingham Towns fans forum I came across a message along the following lines.

'We've blown it, another season in the Bogtrotters league, going to shitholes like Woodford United.'

Right, the weather, absolute pants! It tipped it down most of the morning, but the club confirmed the game was on, but it was going to be cold, windy and damp. The journey was ok, and the place is easy to find, but only if you know how. You come off the M1 at the Daventry turn, and follow the ring road around the town before heading for Banbury. You eventually arrive at small village called Byfield, and then head left for Woodford Halse. Woodford Halse is a small village, but it has been blighted by the fact that someone had the bright idea of building an industrial estate on the edge of it, which just happens to be next door to the ground.

I was early, so I decided to head for food, and in the village I came across the chip shop, and that was when the fun started, with the Oriental staff.

'Can I have chips and a fishcake please?' (making the effort to point at the fishcake in the good old Henry Nuttall Rochdale, snap warmer)

Anyway, about five minutes later, after much scurrying about, a pile of greasy chips were dropped on a piece of paper, followed by a battered cod!

'No love, I asked for a fishcake!'

'No, you ask for fish, I make it special.'

'No, I specifically asked for a fishcake, that's a cake, with fish in it!'

She scampered off to the back and I could hear furious chatter going on, before she eventually came back out, removed the fish and thrust a fishcake onto the steaming heap of chips. She wasn't happy, and when I looked up, the family were all staring at me from the kitchen, it was time to make haste.

I got to the ground, and as it was still an hour before kick off I decided to have a bit of a wander around. First mistake, the car park and entrance to it is made of a sand/clay substance, and when wet it makes a hell of a mess. My car looked like it had been sandblasted, while my new Reeboks turned a funny shade of orange!

The first thing you see at the ground is the tennis/five a side court that is bolted on to it. The fences had holes in, the net was ripped while broken glass adorned the potted surface. Graffiti seemed to be a favourite pastime as well.

Once through the turnstiles the main stand comes into view. It's made of scaffolding, corrugated plastic, and old school canteen plastic seats. It's also got holes at the back which means a wayward tennis ball could easily fly through and take a spectators head off!

'Have you got a bar?' I asked.

'Yes mate, it's behind the dressing rooms.'

I walked in, via the only access route, which was effectively the players tunnel, and found the bar.

It was basically a tea bar, with a serving hatch, a few tables and chairs, and room for about 15 people at most. No pumps, only cans of beer so I ordered.

'Can I have a can of Carling please.'

'It's not very cold mate, I've only just put them in the fridge, that'll be one pound eighty please.'

Christ! One pound eighty for a warm can of lager, I was that stunned I had to down it quickly and then have another. Alongside me in the bar was the barman, and three groundhoppers, and I could tell they were groundhoppers, the conversation gave it away.

'Went on holiday to Devon last week, got to five games. Three in the Devon League, one in the Plymouth League and one in the Dorset Combination. Brixham United have a fantastic ground, but no programmes.'

It was then followed up with,

'I notice Woodford are sponsored by Woodford Social Club. I can only assume that it's in the village, and it isn't this place. Hang on, let me get my Good Beer Guide out, yes, Woodford Halse, former railway village, now that is interesting.'

I really felt like belching loudly, farting, scratching my balls and proclaiming that the bird in the tea bar would look good after a few more cans of this stuff, just before confessing to being a closet groundhopper myself. Don't know why, I just kind of hoped one of the chaps would follow suit and agree with me. I'm of the view the groundhoppers are the way they are, because they think that's the way they are meant to be. In other words, they begin to adopt their own stereotype.

Anyway, it would have taken more than a few cans of warm Carling, but the bird in the tea bar was quite helpful, she flipped a fine burger, but for the last time this season in the Bogtrotters League, no pies, it was time for the footy.

Wrapped up nice and warm, I endured a first half in which a slightly petulant Woodford took the lead, and probably on balance, just about deserved it. It got even colder in the second half, when the crowd swelled from 50, to about a 100, when a collection of the local youths arrived and got in for free.

The local youths were an interesting bunch, dressed in baseball cap, tracksuit, over elaborate trainers and more fake gold than a fairground attendant, they seemed to have two pastimes, swearing and spitting. Idyllic Woodford was fast becoming a place I wanted to leave, quickly.

I was quite pleased when Blackstones equalised in the last minute through an own goal, simply because the left back of Woodford spent the entire second half hurling abuse at the linesman. Now I've never been a footballer of any note, but I like to think I understand the game, and to be frank the player in question spent 45 minutes talking out of his arse. He was probably a local youth who could play football a bit better than most, but only a bit I might add!

I was home by five oclock (the game kicked off at 2pm because the bar was required for the cricket club), and in he pub for seven. Woodford Halse, you were a let down!!

15^th May 2004

Tipton Town  1    Market Drayton Town  2

This was it, the culmination of a journey that has taken in 101 games, 91 different venues, of which 86 of them had been visited for the first time this season.

I felt proud, tired, and maybe a little bit emotional, but my God I've enjoyed it! However, before we get on to the sentiment, let's get on with the story.

I'm going to start on the Friday night before the game. I'd got the kids into bed and embarked on a six pack of Fosters, when I started to reflect on the season, and while I was casting my mind back to various trips out Friday Night with Jonathan Ross came on the TV.

Tonights guests are funny man Dale Winton, World Snooker champion Wocket Wonnie O'Sullivan, and the legend that is, ladies and gentlemen, giving his first TV interview for seventeen years, Morrissey!

I nearly wet myself, the great man was on the box, Newport Pagnells greatest advocate, it was compulsive viewing. The interview was predictably cagey, Ross himself appeared slightly intimidated,

'Morrissey, can I be your friend?'

'No' said the great one.

Ross didn't really know where to take it, it was fantastic. But then the finale, a new version of 'Every Day is Like Sunday', live, to end the show, it was awe inspiring.

Why have I told you all about this? No reason really, it's got nowt to do with football, I just like talking about it, hope you dont mind my little indulgence!

Anyway, the trip to Tipton was anything but dull, as I shall now document. Why did I pick Tipton for a start? Well, a week prior it did look as though they would need to win this game to take the West Midlands League title, however, a cock up in an away fixture at the delightfully named Smethwick Sikh Temple, coupled with Malverns victory at Bromyard Town, meant runners up was all they could hope for.

Undeterred, and armed with the trusty Birmingham A-Z, I set off on that glorious May day I'd been dreaming of all season. What I failed to appreciate though was the fact that my A-Z was published in 1976, and they've built a few roads since then!

It was all going swimmingly, I left the motorway, made may way through Wednesbury, got on the dual carriageway, and looked for the roundabout that took me to Tipton. It didn't materialise, but signs for Dudley and West Bromwich did, it was time to take a pit stop, at KFC. I studied the map and couldn't for the life of me fathom where I was, so I decided to follow the route for Dudley, and start again. Suddenly, as if by magic, a sign for Tipton appeared, and I found myself in the town centre, which was modest to say the least, but then the fun started

I made my way to a crossroads, which linked onto the road to the Tipton ground, when I was stopped by the traffic lights, only for something to catch my eye. It was about 20 or so local herberts stood on the corner of the road, staring intently at a pub, appealingly called the Lumphammer! I then noticed about five coppers stood at the door. I couldn't quite work out what was going on, but then when the lights changed, it all became clear!

In the pub car park were about five police vans, forty or so coppers, plus the best part of around a hundred casually dressed blokes. It turns out, it was the hardcore Tottenham Hotspur following on their way to Wolves, and the local plod had intelligence that suggested trouble would be occurring. In terms of stopping off for a pint, my mind had been made up!

I travelled along, through possibly the worst area, other than perhaps Gorton in Manchester, that I'd seen all season, and the place to avoid ladies and gentlemen, is Princes End! 75% of the shops and flats were boarded up, and to be fair they didn't look that old, while the locals had a definite teenage mum/shell suited youth look about them. I was starting to get a bad feeling about Tipton.

The ground was a pleasant surprise, it was a very modern athletics stadium, used by the famous Tipton Harriers Athletics Club, and when I enquired at the gate I was told that I could use the leisure club facilities - it was looking up, not so.

Back in my home town we have a pub, which many years ago was an utter shithole, but then a brewery chain did it up. It used to be the haunt of many of the local undesireables, and the hope was that the refurbishment would bring a better class of punter. What they failed to realise though, is that you can clean up the pub, but you can't clean up the clientele, nothing changed but the décor!

Getting the picture yet?

Upon entering this place, wearing a Glasgow Rangers shirt I might add, I walked into a wall of twentysomethings, dressed almost predominantly in the football shirts of the local teams, or England, shorts, designer trainers, and of course sporting extremely short haircuts. Dotted around the room were the occasional families with snotty nosed urchins, plus the obligatory old bloke dressed in a battered suit, dribbling into his pint, when of course he wasn't nodding off. Nice venue otherwise though!

I feared speaking at the bar. I ordered a pint, quietly, so as not to give away my foreign accent, and sat in the furthest corner I could find. I drank up quickly, as a fight appeared to be brewing in the pool table region. I could only ever recall being as uncomfortable as this in a pub before once, and that was one close to Grantham Town's ground when they played a big FA Trophy game against Southport.

Anyway, I decided to sit in the car and read the paper until kick off arrived. 

The facilities were as you would expect of an athletics stadium - a good pitch, a decent stand, trouble was it was too far to the pitch and furthermore, they didnt have a toilet on the ground! Tipton took a first half lead through a free kick and looked the better team, and I chose the grass bank on the far side of the ground as my viewing point (I'd finally found my grassy knoll on a red hot May afternoon, albeit in the most unexpected of settings!). What disappointed me though, and I'm no prude, was the disgraceful language from the Market Drayton bench. The NLP the following day ran a letter from a fan who had been disgusted at what he had heard from some of the dugouts this season, and I have to agree with it. I've got two young children, and I wouldn't want to have to stand within proximity of some of the benches I've witnessed this season with my kids in tow.

Justice was served though in the second period when the suited, most obnoxious member of the bench, was dismissed for his comments. He was rather comically consigned to the top of the grass bank!

Two goalkeeping cock ups let in Drayton twice in the second period and they went on to win the game, although Tipton's enthusiasm had obviously waned following the recent results that made todays game pointless from their point of view. I did do something in the second period that I haven't done all season though.

Sat in the stand, in the glaring sun, I just started to feel myself go, and for a few moments I did the unthinkable, I fell asleep!! It was no reflection on the football, which was quite entertaining, the elements just conspired against me!

At the final whistle Tipton were awarded their runners up pot, but rather than stay and watch the muted celebrations, I decided to head home.

It was a strange feeling, something I'd actually been thinking more and more about as the season progressed. I'd wondered just how I would feel, but when it came, it was weird. I almost felt relieved, but with it slightly fearful about what I was going to do during the Summer months.

I got home, mowed the lawn, had a bath, got changed, and walked down the road to meet my mate who was taking me to see his band play at a pub in Derby.

When he picked me up, he asked,

'What have you been doing today mate?'

'Nothing much, nothing much at all' I said evasively.

For the last ten months I'd done an awful lot, yet very few people, very few at all, had the slightest idea of what I'd actually been up to.

And you know something? I might just go out and do it all again next year.

3^rd May 2004

Tividale  0   Shawbury United  2

I've grown quite fond of football in the West Midlands this season, and in particular, the Black Country. Not sure quite why it is, but what I will say is that the clubs always seem very friendly in this neck of the woods, and not only that, they do seem to be the best in the business when it comes to all things edible and drinkable.

Whenever you think of the West Midlands, and alcohol, the first name that seems to spring to mind is Banks's, of the Bitter, Mild and Noddy Holder fame! Tividale Football Club are sponsored by Banks's, and from the moment you drive through the gates, it is full, in your face advertising, and it could easily start a train of thought going.

That train of thought starts with the aforementioned Noddy Holder (think adverts, save your thanks's, I'll have a pint of Banks's), and then very quickly it moves on to the legendary TV show The Grimleys, which Holder starred in as a Headmaster. Now, while the thought of the geekish Gordon Grimley can be a bit troubling (he would have made a good Groundhopper!), it very quickly leads to the lovely Miss Titley, played by Amanda Holden.

So, within a matter of seconds after driving into the car park of your average West Midlands non-league ground, my mind has moved into the arena of Ms Holden, and those photos she did for Loaded Magazine in black underwear.

The trouble is, within seconds of those images, the photos of a tearful and distraught Les Dennis soon take over. It's time to turn the tape over, and perhaps focus a little bit more on what we came here for in the first place. You can't help but shudder!

It's getting difficult now to find new venues as the season draws to a close. The only league within travelling distance, or should I say, getting back for a pint on Bank Holiday Monday distance, is the West Midlands League. They have a full programme of fixtures, but unless I want to drag myself into deepest Herefordshire, the only option is Tividale. Ironically, I would have gone there the previous Tuesday as Dudley Town play their home games at the same ground, but I must confess to favouring going to these places when the landlords are playing, as opposed to the tenants.

The ground is very typical of the region, a long covered stand down one side with mesh fencing above it to stop the ball travelling onto the nearby main Dudley to Wolverhampton road. The other three sides are open except behind the top goal where a modern clubhouse and dressing room complex is situated.

The game itself didnt really mean anything to either side, Tividale were destined to finish mid-table, while the visitors were still in with a shout of a top four finish. Indeed, the visitors, managed by Delwyn Humphries of Kidderminster Harriers F.A. Cup cartwheel fame, looked the more impressive side in the early exchanges and could have scored but it took a while for them to finally get the breakthrough.

When the first goal did arrive, it was quickly followed by a second, and the game was effectively over. Tividale did rally in the second period, but Shawbury had done enough and the inevitable conclusion eventually arrived with bright sun beating down across the West Midlands.

One thing that did impress me about the set up at Tividale was the bar, it was certainly one of the better venues in the West Midlands League, it was just a shame I was driving, but like last Bank Holiday Monday I made up for it later.

3^rd May 2004

Belper Town  4  Holbrook Miners Welfare  2

The Belper Nursing Cup is a charity tournament, competed for by sides within close proximity of the town, and is always an end of season affair culminating in a final a Belpers Christchurch Meadow ground.

Its taken very seriously by local football clubs especially the likes of Holbrook St Michaels, Holbrook Miners Welfare and Belper United, but not quite so much by Belper Town as it has perhaps been seen as slightly beneath them given the gulf in status between the Nailers and the rest of the opposition.

Belper Town have historically played the reserves in the tournament, but this year was a little bit different. With a new manager in tow who liked the idea of getting his hands on some silverware, combined with a set of supporters who were desperate for something to cheer, it was serious stuff, and out came the first team.

'Unfair!', the locals shouted, it was surely against the ethos of the Nursing Cup? Well maybe it was, but bollocks to them, it's about time the Nailers showed who was the Daddy in this manor, and they were prepared to take on all comers.

Cromford succumbed 2-0 in the quarter final, and they are five leagues below Belper, so based on that it was quite an admirable display by the visitors, while the semi final, played on the neutral territory that was Thorntons Playing Fields, saw six leagues inferior Swanwick Pentrich Road beaten 6-0.

Then came the final, against the highest ranked club in the tournament, behind Belper, in the shape of Central Midlands Supreme outfit Holbrook Miners Welfare. Holbrook fielded a number of former Belper players in their line up, so it promised to be a bit tasty.

The lager certainly was tasty, the four pints of it I managed to consume between six oclock and the kick off time of 7.15pm. It should have been 7pm, but an advertising cock up meant it was put out at 7.30pm in the press and on the website. Arguments ensued, but eventually a compromise was reached when it was suggested that if the organising committee actually wanted a crowd to turn up, they would be better kicking off as late as possible!

The Belper Massive turned up, some having travelled down from student slumber in Sheffield, armed with airhorns and a drum. So I thought it would be best to take a seat in the stand rather than have to be within close proximity of the racket they were going to make. And what a good choice that turned out to be, especially as Belper rattled in four goals without reply, sending the drummer into a frenzy.

Joe Carter slammed home the first, followed by a neat finish from Pete Stubley, and a well taken brace from Paul Hurrell. The Nursing Cup was won.

The second half was a bit of a non-event, with Holbrook scoring an early goal and then grabbing a second near the end to give the scoreline a respectable look, but the game had been decided in a very one sided first period.

So, for the first time since 1997, Belper were going to lift a trophy, and up stepped Tim Hogg to lift the Nursing Cup, and he did the unthinkable, he dropped it!!

It inspired a witty and impromptu chant,

'When Hogg, went up, to drop the Nursing Cup, we were there!'

The drinks flowed in the bar afterwards, and then in the pub. I don't know how much more I drank, but I do remember having an argument with a Belper fan, before getting a taxi home. The rest is a bit of a mystery.

Champions of Belper, at last, it was small consolation after a truly desperate season. I'm just glad I missed most of it!

4^th May 2003

Gedling Miners Welfare  0   Retford United  2

It didnt go to plan, truly it didn't.

The idea was to set off mid afternoon down to Hertfordshire, to take in the Stotfold v Daventry Town match, and as I was off work it seemed a nice run out and leisurely all the same. Not quite.

I got out of bed around lunchtime, woken by the phone, it was the ex-missus, the Mother of the children and she knew I was off work, and that usually means I end up running around doing something for her.

I kept thinking to myself as I approached the phone 'be firm, be firm, don't do it',

She started,

'I know you are off work, but my Dad is due to come out of hospital this afternoon, and given the fact hes had an operation on his heart, would you be so kind to fetch him?'

'What time?' I said.

'About three-ish'

'Ok, no problem' I said.

Well, you cant say no in those situations, I couldn't have the poor old bugger catching a bus or a train. That was that then.

It got worse, just when I thought I could get him home for about four o'clock, delays catered for, I spotted the weather through the window - it was hammering it down.

I rang Stotfold, and the Secretary's wife was very helpful, or not so as the case may be,

'Well they are down on the pitch, forking it, and the games have to be played by Saturday, and we've got to fit three in by then, but they haven't got to decide until five o'clock anyway, so I dont know if its on'.

Fantastic, that was no help, I grabbed some food, picked up Sundays Non-League Paper and went for twenty minutes on the khazi (come on, admit it, how many of you read the NLP on the bog, its an obligatory Sunday tradition!)   

The hospital trip came and went, and I got home about four o'clock, waited until 4.30 and then rang Stotfold again,

'No more news I'm afraid, the entire Stotfold Royal British Legion Cribbage Team are busy forking it, but it's touch and go, so I can't tell you anything, can I take your number and ring you back? Are you from the League by the way, only we're doing our best'. (I exaggerated about the Cribbage Team)

Bugger it, it's 108 miles, and I wasn't gambling on it, I rang my old mate Frank Harwood, top man at the Central Midlands League, and he never lets me down,

'All matches are on, they're under instructions, no more postponements, give my regards to your Dad, and Gedling kicks off at 6.30'.

Bingo, game done by quarter past eight, back in Belper by nine, and then off to the pub, it was looking up after all.

Gedling takes about 45 minutes, well it does during the Nottingham rush hour, and I saw a well fought out end of season clash between Champions and moneybags club Retford United, and the hosts who are new to the division this season.

I spent most of the game in the company of Belper Town's manager Gary Hayward, who is a great chap to have as a mate, probably not so great a chap to have as an enemy though and it was interesting to hear his views on players within the locality.

I suggested one player within the Retford ranks who might be a good acquisition  and before you ask, no, it wasn't Vil Powell, his views were succinct, and to the point,

'Fanny Merchant'

So you won't be signing him then Gaz? I enquired.

******* ****!    

Retford never got out of second gear, and cruised to a 2-0 victory through a Powell penalty and a second half strike from Simon Hennessey. Gedling battled hard, and put a foot in, but never threatened the visitors goal, and it probably summed up their mid-table finish for the season.

I raced back to Belper, got to the pub, met my old man and watched the second half of the Portsmouth v Arsenal game. You would have thought I'd had enough lager over the past 24 hours, but when you've sunk the best part of three gallons over four days, what's another couple of pints?

Had a steady walk back home, and turned on the computer, Stotfold beat Daventry 2-0 according to their website, and they wanted to thank all of those people who had helped make the game playable.

21^st April 2004

Market Drayton Town  1  Brierley Hill & Hagley Alliance  3

As I was driving back from Cefn Druids, I remember spotting the home of Market Drayton Town as I travelled along the bypass. It looked neat and tidy, the town was reputed to be pleasant, so I earmarked it for a visit. Strangely enough I spotted they had a League Cup Semi-Final against the team with a long name, on a night when nowt much else was happening.

I had my doubts about it being on, I rang the Brierley Hill Secretary, who told me that he too was concerned, but apparently Shropshire hadn't received any rain, whereas the rest of the Country was in the midst of a monsoon!!

The journey was horrific, and driving down the M1 from Sheffield the rain was unrelenting, in fact I was on setting three on the wipers, and I've only ever done that once before in the four years I've owned my car. That was the time in the car wash when a scantily clad female walked past and I wanted a better view!!

The rain continued down the A38, and only started to reduce to a mere deluge when I got to Uttoxeter, but the Secretary was right, once I got past Stoke and moved into the rather pleasant countryside, it was beautiful. It didn't last though, for the rain was following me.

Market Drayton sits on a canal, and as I can't be arsed to go upstairs and check the map at this moment in time, I'll hazard a guess that it's the Shropshire Union Canal. It's also the home of Muller, the makers of yoghurts, fruit corners, and some gross looking rice concoction. In fact, you soon know when you've missed the turn for the ground, because you end up at the factory, which dominates the skyline.

Hunger was biting, but I felt that a town like Market Drayton (can I just call it Drayton from now on as I'm getting a bit bored of typing a double barrelled name?), was unlikely to possess a KFC, McDs or indeed a Pizza Hut, so I settled for trusty old Safeway, and it was at this point that the rains caught up with me. It wanged it down in a fierce manner, but on arriving at the well appointed ground we had no worries about the game being on as the pitch seemed in good nick for the time of the year.

What was it all about then? It was the second leg of the League Cup Semi Final, and from the first leg Drayton held a slender 1-0 lead. And in their first season under their new name, as they used to be called Little Drayton Rangers, they were set for a Cup Final against either Tividale or Malvern Town. A decent crowd assembled, probably in the region of 150, and created a reasonable atmosphere, but it was the visitors who took the lead through an early first half penalty. This ignited the away support of around twenty who had made the journey up from the Black Country. This in itself was a bit odd, as when I went to a home game recently, they probably had about half that number in terms of support!!

Drayton fought back and equalised just before half time, but the real drama came in the last ten minutes. Firstly, the Drayton goalkeeper failed to deal with a cross, and Brierley prodded home their second goal of the night which evened up the tie. The prospect of extra time was looming and, on a damp night, I could have perhaps done without that, but I needn't have worried.

Drayton desperately pushed forward for the goal that would win the tie, with their vocal following urging them on, but then came drama. Brierley broke quickly, and a striker (whose name I know not!) ran in on goal, and in Geoff Hurst, last minute of extra time fashion, blasted the ball past the keeper and into the roof of the net just under the stantion.

It was time for pandemonium, as the Drayton fans moved towards the exit, the Brierley bench moved at high speed into the centre circle to celebrate. Their rather vocal manager, who appeared to have two forms of motivation, one being swearing, and the other being swearing loudly, did what he did best, swore, at a high pitch as he danced a jig in Nobby Stiles fashion.

So that was that, Brierley move on to the final, Drayton couldn't believe they'd let it slip, whereas I could go home and dry out.

24^th April 2004  

Newport Pagnell Town  2   Blackstones  1

To many, the Smiths are the greatest band to have ever lived, and while that argument is perhaps flawed when placing them along side the Beatles and the Stones, one thing is certain, they are the best band to have ever come out of Manchester and that is some statement from a Stone Roses fan like myself.

Morrissey was, and still is, something of an iconic figure, but to be honest he was a bit bonkers! Lyrically, he was a genius, but at times, even the most die hard fan wondered whether he'd lost the plot. 

Occasionally, he would write a lyric that lingers long in the memory, and one of those lyrics, which was just a throw away line at the end of 'Is It Really So Strange?', was just that,

'I lost my bag in Newport Pagnell'

What? We all wondered at the time? But what it did do was inadvertently put Newport Pagnell on the map, especially amongst the vast army of Smiths fans.

Every time I hear the name mentioned, or indeed I pass Newport Pagnell Services on the M1, I think of that lyric, and indeed smile!

I went early today, it was a beautiful day, but I went early for a reason. I wanted to see if I could find any kind of link to Morrissey and the Smiths in the town. I had no idea what to expect at all.

As you drive into Newport Pagnell one of the first things that strikes you is the attractiveness of the town and, on a hot day, the women!! Obviously cash is not in short supply in these parts given the number of open top cars on the road, being driven by tanned lovelies. I parked up, and walked through the Church Yard into the High Street. It had it's usual array of shops, pubs and businesses, but on top of that it was just that little bit more classy. This isn't meant to be disrespectful towards the North of England, but Bacup it wasn't! In hindsight it is not surprising as it is the furthest South I've ventured all season, and they hardly shop at Netto in the South of England do they?

I wandered around, attempting to find the shrine to Morrissey, with little success. In fact I could find no trace of the great one. I could have done one of those little vox pop surveys and asked a random sample of locals if they knew what the connection between the town and the band was, but I had visions of being sectioned!

I had a better idea, stuff the original plan, go and get a meal deal from the nearest supermarket and sit on the bridge over the river to watch the totty go by. After half an hour of that, in the sun, all thoughts of losing my bag in Newport Pagnell had gone, and it was time to head to the ground.

The ground is located on the edge of the town in a public park, but it's not a public park in the Dinnington Town sense perhaps, it's a fully enclosed football ground. A kids footy tournament was taking place on some nearby pitches, so the burger and hot dog stall was doing a roaring trade (but no pies, I've given up now!), while the bar was doing a brisk trade.

The facilities themselves are pretty basic, and although the club are doing their best to portray a professional image and promote themselves as the top team in the Milton Keynes Borough, a stumbling block arose about January this year. Yep, Wimbledon, or the MK Dons as they are known in these parts. Any youngster wanting to watch football locally can hop on a bus and watch Professional football just down the road, and that, for Newport Pagnell Town must be very disheartening. This is the other problem with franchise football, it impinges on the clubs fighting for prominence in the locality.

The game meant nothing to either side, and it kind of showed in the first half as neither side seemed over bothered about winning the game. Blackstones took the lead late in the half, but two goals in quick succession in the second period handed the three points to the hosts. The highlight of the second half came in the closing stages when a gaggle of young women arrived, presumable players girlfriends, and they were definitely in keeping with what I'd seen in the town earlier.

I could quite easily lose something in the town of Newport Pagnell, and it definitely wouldn't be my bag. In fact, maybe Morrissey got so sidetracked with the scenery, he accidentally left it somewhere? Or we might have got it all wrong and it was a cunning plot to dispose of his Mother in Law?

But having said that, he was always a bit ambiguous, wasn't he?

27^th  April 2004

Rocester  v  Oldbury United (postponed)

It was interesting reading one of Jamiesies Jaunts recently, he talked about this time of year which should be a time for filling the boots when it comes to going to football matches. Virtually every night of the week can a match be found within a reasonable distance, but along with that, you can't help counting down the days until the season ends.

All season I've made my plans and stuck with them, weather permitting, but tonight I was having second thoughts about my original plan. I'd got the Dudley Town v Ettingshall Holy Trinity in mind, but I had a concern about the rain. It had tipped it down in the previous 24 hours and at 5pm, when I would have to be leaving, it was still raining, so without even checking with the club I decided not to bother. I really couldn't be arsed, and after a really bad day at the office I'd lost all motivation. But having said that I didn't really fancy a night in front of the TV, so I needed a closer alternative.

I rang my old man, and with a choice of Sheffield Club (yes, I was desperate!!), Hucknall Town and Rocester, we made our selection, and typically it was the one furthest from me, and guess what, within about fifteen minutes of where he was currently located.

Rocester it was. I rang the ground, no problems with the pitch, and upon arrival it all seemed normal. I paid to get in, bought a pint, and started to read the programme.

I then overheard what looked to be a Rocester official saying to the referee that Oldbury had broken down at Tamworth Services, and it was now 7pm. I had visions of a delayed kick off, but then something struck me.

I'm pretty good when it comes to roads, and I couldn't understand why a journey from Oldbury to Rocester should need to go via Tamworth Services on the M42??

Anyway, I carried on reading and at 7.30pm my old man turned up. At this stage, Oldbury were allegedly still stranded but Rocester were getting more and more anxious. This game was a crucial one as far as they were concerned, as a victory would put them top of the Midland Alliance and leave them in pole position for the league title with just one game to go after tonight.

Then the truth came out. The five or so Oldbury players who travelled by car took a phone call and the truth was almost too bizarre to believe!

The coach party left Birmingham, and started to become concerned when they found themselves heading towards the M1 along the M42, which as already stated, was the wrong way. Someone questioned the driver, only to discover a strong smell of alcohol - the driver was drunk! They got him to pull up at the next services, which was Tamworth, and had to wait for the Police to arrive.

On hearing the story we were in stitches, indeed it had been almost worth making the trip just to say we'd been there. The Rocester mob didn't see the funny side and a woman didn't take to kindly to seeing us laughing out loud at the situation.

So of all the options available, we picked the wrong one, and after a refund only one place was worth visiting, and that was the pub.

As a footnote, Rocester won the following game at home to Grosvenor Park, and now meet Oldbury again on the 6^th May and they must win. Incidentally, Rocester did actually arrive at Rocester back in February, only for the game to be abandoned due to serious injury. Let's hope it's third time lucky, and then perhaps Rocester can lighten up a bit.

Saturday 10^th April

NEWI Cefn Druids  1  Aberystwyth Town  3

NEWI Cefn Druids, or, North East Wales Institute Cefn Druids as it should be known.

It's a worrying trend sweeping through Welsh non-league football, indeed before the local college became involved it was Flexsys Cefn Druids, after the local rubber smelting plant . We've also got Total Network Solutions, which is the professional village club who were once known as Llansantfraid. Before that we had UWIC Inter Cardiff, which was another student based sponsorship, and we have the comically named Airbus UK set to be read out by James Alexander Gordon next season should the crooks from Barry Town not throw a spanner in the works.

I don't like it. Can you imagine it over here, we could have the Sheffield Hallam Institute of Technology sponsoring Sheffield Club, or even the Manchester University French Faculty sponsoring Flixton. I dread to think what would happen if Coventry University had a Neorological Testing division sponsoring a local club..

Anyway, why Wales?

I've never been to a League of Wales game, or Welsh Premier League game as it's now known, and as Cefn Druids are the nearest to the land of my father (England well, Northern Ireland if we want to be pedantic about my old man), it was the obvious choice. Location wise, the best way to describe it is to travel to Stoke-on-Trent, keep going West until you find Whitchurch, cross the border, take a deep breath and the place is just South of Wrexham. Incidentally, a few more miles West and you arrive at a place called Trevor!

I went to Wrexham once, just over ten years ago, they beat Swansea City 3-2, and I have to say that if you ever get the chance to watch them play, go and stand on the Crispin End at the Racecourse Ground and listen to some of the finest songs you will ever hear.

Wrexham Lager, feed me till I want no moooore!!

On top of that, it's the only football crowd I've heard sing a staccato version of 'The Lords My Shepherd', it's spine tingling stuff.

Cefn Druids play in a large village called Cefn Mawr, and when I drove into the village my illusions of an idyllic Welsh village were shattered, in fact, my first thoughts were that it was a Welsh version of Shirebrook. It was dead, most of the shops were boarded up, and eventually I found  a deserted café that was prepared to serve me with a burger and some chips, I felt slightly let down, but believe me, it got much better.

I got to the ground, and made my way to the bar, and this was something of an experience. About twenty or so Aber fans were insitu already, and they were speaking in this funny language, bloody ignorant if you ask me, if they want to come to our country, they should make an effort to at least use the Queens English!!

A pint of Wrexham Lager was consumed (it tasted like shite!), before I was quickly summoned outside, apparently all Welsh Premier League games kick off at 2.30pm. I couldn't work out why, but then perhaps it's to allow time for the carrier pigeons to get the final scores down to London for Sports Report.

It then got funny, I mentioned earlier the passionate support and vocal abilities of Wrexham fans, well the Cefn Druids Fan was in equally good form. It was an innovative song, and for those under the age of 25, and over the age of 45, you probably won't recognise it, although I'll tell you what it originated from at the end of my piece.

"You don't have to sell my soul, it's already in me, you don't have to sell my soul, it's already in me, I wanna be a Druid"

Then came the tannoy announcements, which is quite obviously a league requirement. In other words, the safety announcement. We found out where the exits were, we were told who the Chief Steward is, and what colour flourescent bib he was wearing, we were told what assembly points to head for in the event of an emergency and not forgetting, what to do in the event of an English invasion.

Now I'm sure this wasn't deliberate, and I don't think it struck a chord with anyone, but what was the next record they played?

Tragedy by the Bee Gees, it was just pure class!

Matters on the field were interesting, and I have to report that the Scousers have invaded the Welsh Premier League. As Cefn Mawr is on the English border, you can forgive them, but Aberystwyth, it's miles away from Liverpool!

It was like watching Droylsden of the late nineties, the Manager was Gary Finlay, a Scouser, while leading scorer Tony Bagger Wright was still terrorising defences and screeching loudly in his stereotypical style. Ged Hennigan, who snapped and snarled his way around the UniBond League was his usual pleasant self in midfield. But credit where it's due, they probably had the two best Welsh non-league footballers currently playing the game in their side. Marc Lloyd-Williams, the ginger centre forward, formerly of Bangor City and Southport, and man of the match Ricky Evans in midfield.

Druids took the lead in a poor first half but Aber came back and played as well as any side I've seen this season in the second period. Wright prodded the ball home after Aber realised that the Druids goalkeeper was incapable of catching the ball from deep crosses. While Evans headed home when it became clear that the keeper didn't like leaving his line either.

Wright got the third goal when the keeper ran from his goal to clear, mis-cued, inadvertently handled outside the box, and then let the ball run to Bagger to finish well from a good forty yards out.

With Caersws only drawing, Aber looked to be on course for the UEFA Cup, if not least the InterToto Cup. Latvia looks like the destination, I just hope the Liverpudlians have got valid passports!

Interesting all round, and very entertaining, and I must confess, I actually enjoyed my trip to Wales. Try it some time readers, it's not as daunting and unwelcoming as you might think.

It was nice to cross that border back into England though..

Footnote: The greatest debut album of a band ever was by The Stone Roses, who released the originally titled 'The Stone Roses', and on that was a track entitled 'I Wanna be Adored', or, as my ex bird used to say, quite appropriately, 'I Wanna be a Dog'. And that is the original source of the Cefn Druids anthem.

12^th April 2004

Shifnal Town  3   Nuneaton Griff  0

Bank Holiday Monday afternoon, nice weather, kids safely despatched back to their Mothers, and the serious stuff could begin.

Last Bank Holiday I managed three games, but today I decided to stick to two, but the problem I initially had was finding a venue with a 3pm kick off, but after a bit of web surfin', I found a relatively sort journey, and a interesting match, in Shifnal.

Shifnal doesn't take long at all from where I live. Nip down the A38, head along the A5, cross the M6, jump on the M54 and it's a couple of junctions along, just before Telford.

It was a nice journey, Radio 1, and the lovely Edith Bowman, was doing a day of requests, and it was great to hear such classics as 'Love Will Tear Us Apart', by Joy Division and 'With Or Without You' by U2, but I have to confess to turning off around Brownhills when 'The Frog Chorus' got an airing. I'm starting to sound like Trev from Trevs Travels, so I'll change tack if I may!

I got to Shifnal in time for some lunch, so after driving around for a while I found a nice pub on the Newport Road and had a meal with a couple of pints. The place was filling up, folks no doubt setting themselves up for an all dayer, but I wasn't jealous, my big session was coming later.

Shifnal play at a ground called Phoenix Park, but for those Peter Kay fans out there, they do not have a Phoenix Club on the ground, playing Chorley FM, and with Max and Paddy on the doors. Neither do they have a Jerry St Clair on the tannoy, but they did have a chap in a wheelchair!

The ground was very nice. In fact, if I had a lot of cash, and wanted to start a club from scratch, I'd model the ground on Phoenix Park. It's built into a natural slope so three sides of the ground have been cut into to make some neat gravelled banking to get an elevated view of the game from, while the main seated stand is smart, tidy and spacious.

The downside is the lack of a clubhouse, and the slightly out of town location, hence the fact that crowds hover around the 50-75 mark, although I would estimate today that around 100 were present.

It was goalless at half time, but I don't do goalless draws and thankfully Shifnal took charge in the second period to score three times as the weather turned very unpleasant. Shifnal have been struggling in the Midland Combination after relegation from the Midland Alliance last season, whereas Griff are one of the better sides so I suppose it was a bit of a shock result.

I was edgy towards the end, I wanted to get away, I had to get back, for the main event, the one game that we all look forward to, it was now only a few hours away..       

12^th April 2004

Belper Town  0   Matlock Town  2

I'm going to have to come clean, deep down, my team is Belper Town, in fact, anyone from the locality will know exactly who I am, I used to do the match reports on Radio Derby, but this season has been slightly different from my point of view.

For reasons far too complex to talk about in this column, I've distanced myself from the club this season, and I couldn't have picked a better time to do it, because quite frankly, they've been shite!

I reckon I've been to about six games, in fact one of the last ones was a deeply disappointing defeat on Boxing Day away at tonights opponents, but I want to tell you a bit more about what this game means.

Matlock Town have historically been the top club in the area, but over recent years they've struggled a bit, while Belper Town have been on the up, and since 1997 the two clubs have locked horns in the UniBond League, and for the first four seasons, the mighty Nailers had the upper hand, but over the last few years it's started to turn. I don't think that there is any doubt about it though, the game means more to Belper than it does Matlock, purely because Belper haven't got a traditional local rival, while Matlock have in the shape of Buxton and perhaps less so, Alfreton Town. So to Matlock it's another local fixture, while for Belper, they are the adopted enemy, because no one else is really!

Despite the antipathy towards the club, from the moment I walked out of my front door, and walked over the park to the hill that overlooks the valley, my heart started to beat faster. In fact as I looked over the valley and saw the ground at the bottom, my stomach knotted, this was big, the Ding Dong Derwent Valley Derby as it is known in these parts, really matters.

First port of call was the Riflemans Arms in town, home fans chatted anxiously, away fans came in dribs and drabs, noticeably more confident. A few lagers were consumed, and I was strangely anxious, not about the game, but about the fact that it could be the last time this game happens for a few seasons at least. The worst case scenario would be Matlock winning the league, then the play offs, and qualifying for Conference North. The best case is they either don't win the league, or fail in the play offs and compete in the new but not so improved UniBond Premier. Anyway, at least one, if not two leagues will divide the clubs next season.

Six pints later, and the game started, and for the cynical amongst us, myself included, it would only be a matter of time before Matlock scored, which they did. The cynics behind the goal in fact were taking bets on when Belper would have their first shot on target. The one and only shot on target came in the 75^th minute, just after Matlock made it 2-0, at a canter I might add.

The atmosphere was good though, nearly 700 fans were present, with a rough 50/50 split, and it was the visiting fans from Matlock who made the majority of the noise. The few from Belper who were participating were doing their best,

'Conference North, you're having a laugh!'

At the final whistle, we had to accept the inevitable, and I'm reasonably gracious in defeat. I'll happily shake the hands of the visiting fans and congratulate them on their victory, but what I can't take is them standing in the bar chanting victorious songs and applauding each player into the room. Especially, when the Belper players, many of them who were experiencing their first match of this magnitude, probably didn't give a rats ass. But can you blame them, when you pay peanuts, we all know what you get.

We moved on to a pub, took a club Director with us, and it was difficult not to aim criticism at the club via him, but I think generally the posse of us that had gone to the pub, understood the cash situation at the club, and tried to be as fair as possible. That said, it doesn't mean to say that a large number of Belper fans have been far from impressed at the shenanigans that have taken place over the last eighteen months. Two wage cuts, a good manager quits, and the way it's going relegation avoided by default. The season couldn't end quick enough.

At about 11 o'clock it was just me and my oldest mate. I was drunk, he was probably slightly worse. I could see the state of the club, more than the defeat, was hurting him. He was getting bitter, and somewhat aggressive. But then it struck me, where the difference lies.

Next week I have a choice who to go and watch, I've made a conscious decision to walk away from a club, which in hindsight was probably hard to do. For him, he hasn't yet allowed himself to have that choice, he has to go through the pain every week.

I thought about that long and hard as I weaved back towards my house with donner kebab in hand. But despite my feelings towards the club that I've been so intrinsically linked with over many years, my feelings towards the opposition hadn't changed. Walking across the park, I suddenly found myself singing, it was nearly midnight, the locals would have opened their windows and heard the following,

"Away in a manger, no crib for a bed, the little Lord Jesus looked up and he said, We Hate Matlock, and We Hate Matlock"   

3^rd April 2004

Stewarts & Lloyds Corby  0   Bourne Town  2

Anyone who has ever had the misfortune of a visit to Corby Town's Rockingham Triangle ground will no doubt tell you that it is the most uninspiring and soulless arena in non-league football.

I'm not a big fan of multi-purpose sports stadiums, as Corby's ground is, indeed, a well respected photographer of football grounds once described the place as "The worst venue I've ever watched football in."

You have to drive past Corby's ground to get to Stewarts & Lloyds, and I hoped that my destination today, while not as good facilities wise, would at least feel more like a football ground. It was slightly better, but only slightly

Ive seen Lloyds in action three times already this season, and my views on them have been well documented in previous articles, so I had been looking forward to visiting their Occupation Road ground, and on this occasion for the visit of Bourne Town.

The ground is situated in the middle of the Stewarts & Lloyds Sports Complex, which comprises of what appears to be a huge Social Club, which is now a nightclub, a rugby ground, various other pitches, and the football ground, smack bang in the middle. Due to league regulations, they've built a railing around the ground, which gives it a slightly unwelcoming appearance, while the small stand has a few wooden benches in it. The home dugout has been virtually demolished, and I wasnt sure if it was the weather, or the locals that had caused that.

The most impressive aspect of the ground was the dressing rooms and clubhouse complex which is fairly modern, and this poses a problem for the football club. Like a lot of clubs, they obviously rely heavily on the revenue generated by the social club to support the team. The trouble is, many of the drinkers don't want to watch the football, but to get to the club they have to drive into the ground to get to it. So when a match is on, it's very difficult to charge admission, so they simply don't!

For the first time this season, sorry, the second, I forgot about Matlock United, I went to a senior non-league game where the home club do not charge admission! The programmes are given away for free, so it's extremely hard to complain about the football and facilities on offer.

Despite the fact that it was free, only about 25 people actually bothered to turn up, to watch a game that was spoiled by the high winds. Bourne won the game 2-0, but I felt that Lloyds would have had a far better chance if my hero, 'Disco' Dave Torrance had been playing! No sign of the man, he wasn't at the ground, he was certainly not in the bar, I just hope for the sake of UCL football, he's not been given the boot!

I didn't particularly enjoy this little venture, indeed at kick off time I was still in the bar, on the phone,  trying to convince an ex-girlfriend to meet me later on that night. At half time I sat and watched the Grand National, missing the first five minutes of the second half, and when I did venture outside I watched the rest of the game from the warmth of my car, with Five Live for company.

The one highlight came just before half time, I''ll set the scene for you!

Bourne Towns Chairman is a chap called Terry. When I went to Bourne (the home of the finest kebab meat!), I was looking at some press cuttings in the bar and saw one from the eighties when they won the league. The league Chairman  presenting the trophy was indeed 'Our Tel', who has since decided Club Chairmanship is the way to go.

Tel is a typical club Chairman, he drives a plush Rover 75, he wears a long trench coat and arrived at five to three with three of his fellow Directors.

Bourne had a handful of fans at the game, and one of them, decided to launch a verbal assault at one of his players. Tel didnt like it.

"Why dont you shut up and leave the lad alone ?"

"I'll say what I like, I pay my money" (except today of course!)

"Have you ever played football at this level, cos you haven't got a clue pal."

"I've played football at a very good level, and I'm telling you, he's got no idea!"

On and on it went, for a good five minutes, the entire crowd were now focussing on the row, while both dugouts had turned round to watch the proceedings. It was classic stuff, lots of finger pointing and gesticulating, but then Bourne scored.

It got better, Tel turned into a stereotypical football fan, taunting the Bourne fan, suggesting he had been right all along, the Bourne fan, while pleased they'd scored, was not impressed that he had been proven wrong. The battle continued, this time at close quarters behind the dugout, before eventually, I guess, they got bored with each other.

As I said earlier, I dont want to be too critical, as S&L don't charge for you to watch them, and for the few people who are interested, it's a labour of love. I imagine that they were once a thriving outfit when the Steel Works was still open, that's now gone but the football club has survived, but you have to wonder how much longer they can compete at a senior level.

In case you were interested, I failed with the ex-girlfriend, and still no bloody pies!!

7^th March 2004

Norton United  2   Daisy Hill  0

It's almost ten years to the month since I waved a fond farewell to the Potteries. As a student at Keele University, I lived for three years in Arnold Bennett country (I was an English student), and it does hold some fond memories.

Great moments, such as being chased down Peebles Road in Silverdale by a local ex-miner who held the opinion that "you f*****g students are leeching from this community, we've got nothing now cos of you and Thatcher!"

I also recall fondly being penned in outside a nightclub in Hanley by the police to stop the locals, or the Potters as they were named, from getting at us. In annoyance they turned over a taxi instead!

But the highlight was perhaps when we were quietly eating in an Indian Restaurant in Newcastle Under Lyme when our rugby team turned up, donning toilet seats round their necks! A few locals took exception, and a mighty rumble ensued before a fair crowd spent the night in the local pokey!

Aside from serious student matters, I did manage to work my way around a few of the local football clubs. Newcastle Town  were a decent outfit, Eastwood Hanley sadly folded while Kidsgrove Athletic were on the way up. Knypersley Victoria was a nice setting while I did enjoy the odd trip to Meir KA.

Norton United though, were a mere local league side so I never had the pleasure, but now they are in the North West Counties League, I thought it worth a visit.

I've driven down the A50 and along the A500 countless times in recent years, but for some strange reason, as soon as I venture into the homelands of Stoke-on-Trent, I get that strange sensation in my stomach, almost as if I'm meeting up with a long lost relative, or an ex-girlfriend after many years apart. It was no different tonight as I drove up through Longport and into Burlsem, the home of the mighty Port Vale. It was like the years had rolled back, and things, as usual, hadn't really changed much, apart from the fact that my precise knowledge of the local road network wasn't quite as it should have been!!

Norton United play in a small suburb called Smallthorne. I never got this far all those years ago, but it was one of those places that you always used to see on the local map, and wondered what it was like, but never ventured to. I admit it, I got lost. With familiarity comes arrogance sometimes, and usually I always take a map with me on my travels, but tonight I felt it wasn't required, as I know this area like the back of my hand. Unfortunately I wasn't banking on a strange sequence of mini roundabouts on the edge of Burslem.

Eventually, after two or three abortive attempts, I found the road I needed and got to the ground. Not before a dodgy burger and chips from a local establishment, which I felt distinctly uncomfortable in as tonight Matthew, I was a referees assessor!!

The ground itself was tidy, but basic. A small covered stand with a few seats stretched from the top byline to the halfway line, with hard standing around the rest of the enclosed ground. The pitch was in good condition, while the view over towards the Leek Road was quite impressive, if you like urban landscapes that is.

Norton were below halfway, while Daisy Hill were sat in the bottom quarter, so I wasnt expecting Real Madrid v Meeelan, but I suspected it could be a bit lively as just before kick off a Norton player turned round to his team mates and shouted,

"We f*****g owe these b******s, now come on!"

As suspected, it was no holds barred stuff, and the quality was surprisingly good. Both sides moved the ball around well and at a ferocious pace, but Norton always had the edge and came out 2-0 winners in the end.

The comical highlight came at half time though. In search of a cuppa, I followed the crowd into the plush clubhouse, only to find I was in the boardroom. Now in my UniBond Coat, and work suit, I looked the part, I just had to blag my way through the next fifteen minutes! The cup of tea arrived, then came the complimentary cheeseburger, no questions asked. I felt as though I wasn't mingling, so I started a conversation with a chap stood next to me,

"It's going to be interesting to see what the restructuring throws up at the end of the season?" I said, as I wasnt sure of which club he was involved with.

"Dunno mate, I've wandered in here by accident, I was looking for the tea bar."

23^rd March 2004

Northampton Spencer  5    Raunds Town  0

As a student, back in 1992, I went to Northampton for a weekend, not by choice though, as my then girlfriend was also a student, at Nene College (pronounced Nenn, not Neen as some people think!)

I dont remember an awful lot about it, except for the fact that Northampton seemed to be a bit of a dump, and I was in a hurry to get back home, which at the time was Stoke-On-Trent. Pot, Kettle and Black spring to mind I know, when comparing Stoke to Northampton, but I was unimpressed by what I thought to be an ugly London overspill at the side of the M1.

I went to Northampton this time with an open mind, and memories came flooding back as I drove along the old route I used to take to the house of student squalor in the Abington district. I recalled the Hospital, had no idea theyd built a huge retail park, while I was delighted to see the Carlsberg Brewery was still in place!

Northampton Spencers ground is in a hollow just off the Northern Ring Road (its not actually called that as such, but it acts as a ring road), and I remember seeing it from the good old days, but as I was running early, and a little hungry, I decided to pop into town before heading to the ground.

Nothing had changed, it was still a dump, totally unappealing, very grey and old looking. I drove from the North side of the town, down to the South, and saw nothing to tempt me to leave the confines of my car! I decided the sheer effort of tramping round the town centre to find something as tempting as a KFC was just too uninspiring, so I headed for the student district in the hope of finding something more appealing.

I found Safeway, and decided to go for a good old fashioned Meal Deal! Sat in the car, and chomped away, it was all very different from the trip to the delightful taverns in the lovely lakeside regions of Cogenhoe!

The ground is not the easiest to find for the uninitiated. You have to drive through an industrial estate and take a cart track through some allotments, before passing over a bumpy piece of wasteland and finally the car park. Theyve just had a new stand built, while the clubhouse was friendly and spacious, but on the field it hasnt been the best of seasons.

A win was required to pull the mighty Spencer away from the relegation zone, while Raunds, who I saw capitulate at Long Buckby recently, were in dire need of an improvement.

Raunds were shocking, but Spencer scored three times in a ten minute spell after half time to guarantee a victory, this after being 1-0 to the good at half time. They got a fifth goal late in the game and were worthy winners.

Now then, I very rarely comment on referees, but this one was crap! He watched a Raunds player head butt a Spencer defender, sat back and viewed a sizeable punch up, and then after consulting with his able assistant, he decided to do precisely nothing!!

No pies by the way, but that was to be expected, but I have to comment on the programme, or should I say pamphlet! Imagine a piece of A4 paper, folded as though it were a letter, well thats the shape of the programme, it was almost like a brochure for a museum found in a seaside bedsit foyer! Neat and novel anyway, the editorial was infact an A4 sheet, folded like a letter, dont know what the average ground hopper would have thought, hed have to get a newly shaped plastic folder for this little number!

I was intrigued to know where the Spencer suffix came from, and one thing I did notice was that an area locally was actually called Spencer, but the name apparently comes from the former Spencer Works, I got bored with the discussion at this stage and didnt ask what the Spencer Works actually made. Ignorance is indeed bliss.

I was more impressed with the view from the stand, which was the storage yard for the Carlsberg Brewery, which in itself was separated from the ground by the railway line.

Groundhoppers, Trainspotters, and Alcoholics would love this place, but some would argue that most people who fall into the first category, probably are, or indeed have been, in the other categories at some point in time.

All complaints to Behind The Flag please

31^st March 2004

Brierley Hill & Hagley Alliance  5  Bustleholme  4

Going to do something a bit different this time, Version 1, is the Groundhopper from the Non-League Paper view, while Version 2 is more in line with the Mr X way of looking at things.

Version  1

Remind me to write to the editor of the Non-League Directory, it quite plainly states that Brierley & Hagley Alliance (they missed the Hill, but Im not petty), play at Halesowen Harriers. Well after climbing the hill to the Harriers ground, I discovered that it had been turned into a series of 5-a-side courts (and they didnt do a programme which was infuriating)

A call to the Secretary, whos landline number in the NLD was disconnected I might add, and he told me that they now play at Lye Town down the road. Now its a good job Ive never been to Lye before, otherwise Id have been heading off home I can tell you!

On arriving at Lye Town I was disappointed to discover they had no match poster to advertise the game, its no wonder Groundhopper numbers have declined, some clubs have no idea how to help themselves.

I went into the bar and had a half a bitter, and spent the next twenty minutes acting very strangely by staring at pictures and notices on the wall, before jotting some notes down in my notepad. Never once taking my holdall off my back, except of course to retrieve my plastic wallet to place my treasured programme in.

Disaster!  No programme, which would mean many of my ilk would turn round and go home (perhaps why they dont bother! Mr X), but despite expressing my anger and disappointment, they refused to go home and quickly knock one up for me on a PC. I tell you, some clubs dont deserve support.

No team details were announced, which meant that I spent the first twenty minutes pestering the dugouts to give me team information (plus subs). I cant understand why clubs are so reluctant to help, I told them I would be reporting on the match for a major publication, but they just asked me if I liked sex and travel? I didnt quite understand that.

The field was poor, but Im not bothered about things like that, I was more interested in counting the number of entrances and exits, and of course taking photos of the toilet blocks. When I produced my camera a number of curtains in the nearby flats suddenly closed, not sure why.

The game was ok, 5-4 I think, but I dont really understand football, in fact I dont like it that much, but since Ive seen every train in Motive Power Pocket Book three times over, I need something else to do with my time since I got made redundant from British Rail.

I enjoyed my visit to Lye, despite its many misgivings, and on leaving the ground I was greeted by the Club Secretary, he wished me well and thanked me for my attendance, while at the same time giving me a fixture list for near rivals Stourbridge, he said they would welcome my visit anytime. Apparently they have a Care in the Community Programme which sounds interesting, I havent got a Care in the Community Programme, I didnt know they issued one..

Version 2

After originally cocking up and going to the wrong ground, I eventually found the home of Lye Town, and set about consuming a couple of pints of the finest Fosters, before embarking on what was one of the best games Id seen all season, but with the added bonus of a female linesman!!!

I was at a game in October between Atherton Collieries and Glossop North End, when a very attractive female linesman/bird was on duty, and in the subsequent rematch recently, she allegedly was subjected to abuse and taunts of a sexual nature. You might remember it on the back page of the NLP, well anyway, if I was stood starkers waiting to go into the shower and spotted her outside the dressing room, Id have made a comment or two Im sure!! But then most women from where I come from would have given as good as they got and scared the living daylights out of an entire football team!!

Political Correctness out of the window before we start! Brierley were 4-1 up at half time, but in the end had to hang on for a 5-4 victory after a tremendous fightback by Bustleholme.

Nice ground but its seen better days, the old barrelled roof which covers the terrace behind the goal is rusted up, while the stand opposite the cricket field was in definite need of a lick of paint and a screwdriver to fasten the seats back in! The pitch was a mess, but with two West Midlands League sides playing on it plus a Sunday side, it was to be expected.

No programme though, but I couldnt really care, no food was more of a concern, as the McDonalds next door to Halesowen Harriers old ground just didnt touch the sides.

Must confess to liking this part of the Country though. Ive been to Cradley Town, Oldbury United and now Lye Town this season, and theyve been a very friendly bunch. Trouble is, no one seems to want to watch them, if anyone breaks 50 theyve done well, and to be fair, given the number of pro-clubs in the area its understandable. Credit where its due then for keeping clubs afloat, especially clubs like Brierley who have lead a nomadic existence for the last two years. You can forgive them for not meeting everyones expectations.

31st January 2004

F.A. Trophy 4th Round

Shrewsbury Town 2 Hucknall Town 1

There is nothing more disheartening for the closet groundhopper than the sight of torrential rain on a Saturday morning.

The plan was for another trip to the seaside to see Squires Gate take on Abbey Hey, but with reports from the Fylde Coast indicating that the game was likely to fall by the wayside, alternatives had to be sourced.

Numerous clubs were contacted, and games were either off, or subject to a late pitch inspection, but then I made a phone call I deeply regretted.

I wont name the club, or the league, but suffice to say I got the secretarys number from the Non-League Directory and the call went something like this,

"Can you tell me if the games on today please?"

"I dont believe this, I really dont believe this" came the reply

"Im sorry, have I said something?"

"I take it you want ***** (secretarys name), well he died suddenly in August, and despite telling the league, I get calls every week asking about games, players, kits, everything Ive had enough." Said a somewhat distraught widow.

"Oh, Im really sorry, I didnt mean to offend."

"Well if it is on, I hope they lose." was the final line in a very uncomfortable conversation.

Ouch! One final call to Shrewsbury Town, and it was absolutely, definitely on, and of we went.

I know Shrewsbury quite well from my student days in Stoke on Trent, it was a short drive away and held memories of some pretty impressive drinking sessions in the fine town centre pubs. So I was hoping to make an early arrival to give me chance to re-acquaint myself with a few venues.

A confession though, now Im not gay or owt like that, but when it comes to drinking, Im a lager man. So for those of you expecting a guided tour of the real ale pubs of Shrewsbury and a description of the full flavour that comes from a pint of Dogs Turd by the famous Old Salopian Brewery, forget it! I just headed for the nearest trendy bar and sat on a bar stool with my tall glass of Carling Extra Cold and some Dry Roasted in a bowl.

The ground, well its a good old fashioned stadium, but very dated now, but in terms of its surroundings, its a lovely setting on the banks of the River Severn. Hucknall had managed to drag a good 300-400 supporters to the game, which isnt bad as a few years ago they were getting 150 through the gates for home games! A crowd of 2,500 assembled to see the action unfold.

The Shrews (is a shrew a small mole, I just wondered?), took the lead after a period of good football through Kevin Street, but once acquainted with the conditions, Hucknall more than matched their full time opponents and equalised in the first half through the impressive Gary Ricketts.

Shrewsbury scored a second just before half time through Darren Moss when his cross sliced off of his foot and found the gap between post and bar to leave Brentford bound Stuart Nelson floundering. It was tough justice.

The second half was goalless, but had Hucknall showed more composure in the final third, they would have taken the hosts back to Watnall Road, and that would have been a culture shock. On the display Hucknall put up, it was difficult to tell who was the full time team, that said, one suspects the part timers are perhaps on slightly better wages than Shrewsbury, for Hucknall are one of the highest payers in the semi-professional arena.

On exiting the ground I heard a familiar voice, I turned and bumped into an old school mate and a fellow groundho., a fellow groundhopp, a fellow, no, I cant say it, but anyway, the conversation went something like this.

"Im going for a quick pint before my train do you fancy it?" said my old mate

"Where are you going?" I replied

"I was just looking through the Good Beer Guide, hang on, its in my bag." He said

"Actually, I need to get back, kids and all that" was my quick response

Phew, lucky escape, besides, Id forgotten my tankard!

3rd February 2004

Yaxley 3 Desborough Town 1

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find a meat pie, at a ground in the United Counties League!

Easy, you would have thought, well let me tell you about my travels so far.

It started on a cold night in November when I made the journey to Deeping Rangers (its on the Norway, but you turn off just after Stamford), and having spent what seemed like hours to complete what was just a 70 mile journey, I fancied a good old meat pie with peas and gravy.

The ground was smart, new, and the tea bar looked modern, and clean,

"What food do you do love?"

"Weve got Mars Bars, Twix, Crunchie, Crisps, and Penny Chews." Said the helpful local serving wench.

"Anything hot?" I said

"Cup a Soup, Tea or Coffee!"

Yum, yum, so it was a cup a soup (oxtail), a Mars Bar and some beef and onion crisps, I was as satisfied as Peter Andre after a hot day in the jungle watching Jordan sunbathe.

Next stop was Harrowby United, now the Grantham based club is progressive, and the most northerly of UCL clubs, so surely meat pies have reached Mrs Thatchers home town, not so.

The best they could offer was Cup a Soup, but as they had a shortage of cups, I had to drink it from a Tupperware beaker, food wise, crisps from the bar, it just wasnt cricket.

Desborough Town came next, and we all know about the extremely dodgy burgers, flipped by our local exiled Scotsman, see Mr Xs earlier travels.

Daventry Town, nice club, good facilities, but bugger all on the hot food front, although t be fair you could get a ham or cheese roll wrapped in clingfilm, and that was better than the standard Cup a Soup or Mars Bar. I wanted a half time warm though, so it was obligatory to have a Cup a Soup (Minestrone).

And then Yaxley, it was cold, windy, and the best they could do? Mars Bars, Cheese & Onion crisps, and Bovril, I finally snapped.

"It says that you sell pies on the pricelist, have you not got any?"

"No mate, we didnt think the game would be on so we didnt bother preparing any." Was the reply.

That was it, I finally flipped, in a fit of anger I ordered everything on the menu, three bars of chocolate, two bags of crisps, a Bovril and a cup of tea. I sat in the back of the stand and stuffed the lot down me. I felt like Alan Partridge in the infamous Toblerone addiction scene, but obviously without the bare feet and the weight problem.

So why no pies at United Counties League grounds, well I might have just been unlucky, although Ive got Ford Sports Daventry on the agenda soon so Ill find out, but I think its an identity crisis.

What? You might say? Well, pies are synonymous with Northern football, and not so in the sarf where its all burgers, hot dogs and curry sauce. Most of the United Counties League action takes place in the Midlands region, but in areas that are seemingly Home Counties overspills, in other words, they dont know who or what they are!!

And the worry is, Londons overspill is getting further North, at one time it was Grantham, now its reached Newark, and what next, Doncaster?

I really cant imagine being refused a steak and kidney pie at Brodsworth Welfare because,

"Sorry me old china, no call for em round ere mate, alwight?"

God forbid. Anyway, Yaxley won 3-1, the McDonalds at Rothwell was never more welcoming.

10^th January 2004

Desborough Town  2  Stotfold  4

United Counties League Premier Division

Desborough Town have something that every true football fan appreciates, proper floodlight pylons.

Back in the days when me mam was a lad, floodlights at football grounds were landmarks that could be seen from miles around, indeed the final stages of a journey to the football match more often than not ended up in a competition to see who could be the first to spot the pylons. Not so any more, the upper echelons of the professional game has seen the lights integrated into the stand roof, while at the lower end of the Nationwide, they have the more economical poles to support the bulbs. Proper floodlights, the ones that look like a cross between electricity pylons and the kind of structures seen in the old Tinsley shunting yard, were not at all commonplace in non-league football, bar a few exceptions such as Boston United, Weymouth and Kettering Town for example, but Desborough, given the level of football they compete at, truly break the mould. But in all honesty, they look strangely out of place, Desborough is merely a large village, and entering the Northamptonshire mecca of fine football from the Leicester Road, the pylons dominate an otherwise small settlement surrounded by green belt land. It does look a bit odd, but its uniqueness far outweighs that.

I made a bit of a mistake today, the better half wanted to go to the game. Shes only ever been to two football matches before, one saw the local riot police trying to separate two warring mobs, while the second was spent predominantly in the bar, before continued drinking in a town centre on a warm pre-season evening. Her judgement, I sensed had been clouded, a cold afternoon at sparsely populated Desborough was destined to be an anti-climax given what had gone before. But insist she did, and give in I did. I tried to play it down, I even took her for lunch beforehand, I promised her a good night out on the town later on that evening, but my fear was that she would, after about fifteen minutes, realise that non-league football, at this level, was really for the die hard fan, or the obsessive compulsive.

The bar at Ar Tarn, as they are affectionately known, was well populated, it later transpired that only about a fifth of the inhabitants went to the game, the rest spent the afternoon watching the scores on Ceefax. Like any small town or village, an outsider is spotted a country mile away, usually by the way they approach the bar, eyes forward, trying not too catch the glances of those to either side, and certainly not trying to make conversation with anyone. But the inevitable always occurs, I recall being in the pub outside Mossleys ground once, dressed in a suit, when a worse for wear local tripped out a sentence that was totally incomprehensible. The barmaid confirmed to me that he was asking if I was a debt collector. I turned to the chap and said If a f*****g debt collector walked in here pal, Id be the first out of the bar!. It was met with a laugh all around, but I sensed in Desboroughs bar, smart arse comments would not be appreciated, I smiled passed comment and returned to my seat.

Non-league social clubs are notoriously cold places, this was no different, but it is usually tempered by the fact that beer is so cheap. Women, dont see it that way though, especially when its you that is paying.

The first half hour was crap, to be frank, it had to be with the company I was keeping, but Desborough, bottom of the league yet in the Fourth Round of the Vase, were the brighter team. In fact much of the conversation around the ground was about the trip to AFC Sudbury the following week, they were excited, Now Ive been to Sudbury, indeed Ive spent a night in Sudbury once, if it was me, I would reserve judgement. But then visitors Stotfold took the lead, and then just before half time, the best goal Ive seen all season came when young Liam Errington, as the NLP likes to call him, picked up a weak clearance 40 yards from goal and flicked the ball up before half volleying over the retreating goalkeeper. It was Beckhamesque.

Half time, and in order to try to cheer up her who must be obeyed, I offered to buy her a burger. This was a huge mistake. The burger bar at Desborough, is less of a bar, and more of a barbeque. Tucked behind the stand was a cheeky Scottish chappy flipping burgers in a most hygienic fashion, his style and manner was par for the course at such venues, but it wasnt Burger King, and certainly was it not KFC.

"Do ye want onions on ye burger me little matey?"

Ouch! I cringed as his yellowing fingers, wiped on his fat splattered apron, picked up the burger and slipped it between a slightly moist bun.

"Tomato sauce me old pal?"

A trail of vinegar fell out first, followed by a watery looking red substance. Even the hardened Groundhopper would have cringed, but strangely enough, it tasted fantastic. She looked at me as though I were chewing on a live rodent.

The game ended 4-2, Stotfold were comfortable, Desborough on that form will do well to keep it down to single figures at AFC Sudbury. But then again, perhaps they had one eye on the trip to Suffolk next week.

Driving away from Desborough, the floodlights looked fantastic in the twilight, I commented upon it, but I was greeted with,

"Mmm, very good. Do we have to listen to football on the radio?"

They'll never understand, will they?