In the end though the referee blew for time, and the celebrations began, and as for me - the end of another season. Another hundred games and some pretty varied adventures that have seen us go from Barcelona to Barton-upon-Humber, from Calverton to Calais, with some good games along the way - not to mention some bad ones too. The International teams I've seen this year have all done well, in their own way; Barça won La Liga - Europa won their deserved promotion to the next division up (not to mention the exploits of Sheffield FC and Luton Town) - and Calais, well they've probably survived for another season, everyone is happy! One point to close on came just as we were about to leave France and board the shuttle, being waved onboard by a couple of bored looking yellow jacketed Frenchmen, one of them sprung to life started banging on the window of the car screaming "STOP!!!" I've got to say it scared the crap out of me, Lynn and Liam - we wound the window down to see what the problem was - he smiled and pointed to the back window where Liam had plonked his freebie scarf then started singing "ALLEZ CALAIS - ALLEZ CALAIS!" Ah Football, it is the same in any country!

 

 

 

Strangely enough the game is an early evening kick-off, 6.34 to be exact (must have been for the worldwide televised audiences), which is odd seeing as Westfield Lane DOES have floodlights - I'm just glad Matthew at YMFC tipped us on the early start otherwise I'd have been wondering why the cup was presented at half time. The pitch was in fine fettle, much better than the one at Ossett Albion which is not a million miles away, even if the ground has seen better days. To be honest every time I get to Frickley, I'm amazed at how it seems to look ropier and ropier. A good couple of hundred people paid the quid to see the game (sorry groundhoppers - no programmes), and it might not surprise you that the majority of them were followers of Hemsworth, being just four miles up the road. Even so, they didn't make too much noise, other than when the early evening beer kicked in and some of them decided to get a bit abusive (and that was just the women). The game was fairly even for the first twenty minutes or so, and I thought I might even get to see the Main grab the win, although Saints had the best chance of the game when Main keeper Tom Borthwick had to make a one-handed save from a header by Hemsworth's Mick Humberstone. Five minutes later, after Main had conceded some pretty needless corners, St Pats took the lead - a corner from Wayne Jones found ex Kinsley Boys hot-shot Lee Kelly unmarked, who headed into the goal - oh dear, the jinx has struck! Main tried to press on and grab an equaliser, and they managed one on the hour; a free kick by Kevin Adcock was deflected (although not wickedly - it was just a decent free-kick really) past the keeper and into the net. The game was tied for a sum total of two minutes - Hemsworth went up the other end, Jones took the ball round Borthwick, and the keeper brought down the Saints' forward. The penalty was awarded, up stepped Humberstone, and all of a sudden Main had to do it all again. Despite all their best efforts they couldn't get back on terms, and in the last minute they were made to pay for their adventure, Kelly (who should have really walked for a head-butt a few minutes earlier) hit them on the counter-attack with his solo run ending with him slotting the ball under Borthwick. There was to be no happy ending for me here, and I have say many apologies to the Yorkshire Main manager Matthew Wynne - the jinx continues, maybe if I'd stayed at home you might have won the cup!

 

 

 

The game started in bright sunshine and in a curious fashion - then after about six minutes Town's Daniel Barrett lost the ball in the box and - let's say stumbled a little bit shall we? The referee blew his whistle and everyone assumed that he had awarded an offside or something similar, but no - everyone looked in amazement as he pointed to the spot - but for what? Apparently at half time the referee said it was because he had been scythed down from behind - on what planet? No one fell, and the guy lost the ball, it was as simple as that! Anyway, when the confusion died down up stepped Darren Baldwin and struck the ball sweetly, sending Garry Attwood the wrong way. The rest of the half went in a blur, basically because of the cloud burst that hit us midway through the half, with everyone scurrying for shelter - myself and my mate Richard decided to head for the concrete shelter, which was not much good from a spectator point of view - you could either see one goal or the other, not both. Town were the team on top, and if not for a couple of good stops from Attwood (the best tipping onto the bar from Jonathan Wright) the visitors would have been streets ahead, but as it was the hosts held on - just. In the second half Flowserve's Steve Chamberlain half cleared an effort by Town's Gareth Dobb, the ball fell to Baldwin who set up Dan Barrett to crash the ball against the upright, close but not quite enough to settle the game. Once the rain had stopped falling and everyone made it out to see the game, Flowserve started pushing forward, but at the risk of conceding a second. Eventually time ran out on the hosts, and Town won the second Newark derby 1-0, the same result as the first. Not the most exciting spectacle of football I've seen this season, but as we are all very well aware, there aren't that many derby games that actually live up to the hype.

 

 

 

Both teams were pushing in the right direction in the Supreme Division before this game, Barton were sitting in fifth before the game, whilst Clipstone were sat in ninth with both teams looking good for a higher spot. That was reflected in a fantastic game of football, played in the right sportsmanlike spirit, that's not to say it wasn't competitive. To be honest it made a nice change, I'd been getting a bit fed up of seeing two teams kick lumps out of each other, here there were fair (but hard) challenges that were completed with a handshake, with very little criticism of the referee from either side (not until late on, but that could be forgiven due to fatigue and frustration), although that didn't stop the Clippo coach popping the veins in his neck - boy, did he like to shout at his players, if you heard him you'd think they were fighting for a Champions League spot! It was the visitors who had the upper hand for much - nay all - of the first half, mainly due to the kamikaze nature of the Barton back four, they were purely suicidal trying to play the ball out of defence like Juventus instead of doing what most do at this level - hoof it! The keeper wasn't comfortable with this tactic, he basically said so, but the Clipstone forwards despite being handed the ball on a silver platter couldn't get anything on the scoreboard. Then with about a minute of the first half left the keeper decided enough was enough; he kicked the ball long, it was flicked on by Darren Bray onto John Parkinson, who in turn played it on to Mike Summerbee look-alike Steve Carter who drove the ball into the net - it really was that simple! The Clipstone coach (not the bus) must have scared the living daylights out of his players as they froze in the second half, and allowed Barton to come into it; the lead should have been doubled early on after Carter played in Paul Grimes, only a freak deflection off the keeper's foot stopped it being two-nil - the ball ricocheted onto the bar and over. With twenty minutes to go the game was made safe as Carl Stead chipped into the area, the defence stood still and Grimes nipped round the back to rifle home, again simplicity in itself. Grimes nearly made it three in the last minute, having a thirty yard free-kick rifle against the bar, although that would have been rough justice for Clipstone. Overall it was a great game, well refereed by the man in the middle who didn't need to produce a card of any kind, and one that renews your faith in quality football being played at this level. The sun had done its job and dried the car-park out sufficiently enough for me to get out, I even managed to get home a good twenty minutes quicker than it had taken me to get here, and I may even add (although I never tempt providence) I got through a day on Humberside without a speed camera... or did I?

Welbeck Welfare 1 Pinxton 2
Central Midlands Premier Division
Saturday, 23/04/05

R.E.M did a song a helluva long time ago called "Carnival of Sorts", the lyrics are pretty much indecipherable and Michael Stipe sings a lot about "cages under cages under cage" (or summat), but it isn't the words of the song that is important really. No, it was just a song that came to me while I was heading on the road towards Meden Vale for this evening's game between Welbeck and Pinxton, just as I was passing programme sellers on the street a good half a mile from the ground. You see this really is a "carnival of sorts", it is the last game of the annual Central Midlands Football Bonanza, I mean - when else would you see programme sellers half a mile from a Central Midlands ground? This season they haven't gone out for the groundhop record, only a meagre four in a day this year, whereas last year the hop fraternity were treated to a massive five games on a Saturday. The whole event is engineered to higher the profile of the CMFL in the media, whilst at the same time giving the hoppers an opportunity to get as many "ticks" as possible in one day, although it isn't to everyone's liking. Events like these have been accused by some "hardcore" groundhoppers as being too sanitised, given that this sort like to get there on public transport to live the full experience, whereas these organised hops arrange for the maximum number of games in the shortest possible time - meaning only those with cars or using the chartered coaches can attend. People had come from all four corners of the nation; south coast, Lancashire, the West Midlands, Scotland - we even had a guy travel from Sweden of all places! Either way the whole thing appears to be a very tiring experience, as accounted by my friend Richard who did the whole day, he falls into the category of "ardent Central Midlands fan" and probably would have been watching at least one of the games anyway. Starting at Santos (Bilsthorpe not São Paulo, unless they hired a jet) at the ungodly time of 10.15 am, moving on to Forest Town at 1.00 pm, then onto Rainworth at 3.45 pm and finishing here - at Welbeck - for a 6.30 pm kick off, the latter giving me enough time to get home from our game against Brodsworth - get changed - and along the road to Meden Vale in plenty of time to catch the final leg.

I have mixed memories from my last (and only) visit to Welbeck; first of all was the game, where Welbeck scored five goals AND LOST to Bentley (7-5). It was also the first time I actually found myself entertained by the goalkeeping antics of Wayne "Sinbad" Atkins, the chatterbox stopper with the curious mullet, who is even more eccentric than yours truly between the sticks. There was also a downside, as after the game I got about a mile away from the ground I got no further; my two rear tyres had been sabotaged by two very long nails. Naturally you'd expect me to be wary of returning to the place, but when you look at it in the cold light of day the chances of lightning striking twice are pretty remote, especially seeing as there would be many more cars in the vicinity to vandalise - thus strengthening the odds of mine being safe. Not that I expect anything would have happened, too much like bad publicity I guess with all these visitors around, and there were plenty of people in yellow bibs wandering the streets anyway. The difference between the last time I came and this (apart from the obvious increase on the thirty or so attending last time) was the weather, I'd been the last time because of the game at the Coach being rained off - today the evening sunshine had everyone heading for the massive bank opposite the entrance, which gave a great elevated view of the game. The "sanitised carnival" atmosphere was enhanced by a tannoy system (to give team news - although they had provided a table for the hoppers to copy the teams down), not forgetting the barbecue that was on the go, as well as the obligatory badge, souvenir and programme stalls - there's something decidedly surreal about seeing a middle aged man in a Wolverhampton Wanderers puffa jacket and a Welbeck Welfare baseball cap (must have had a WWFC fetish), wouldn't you agree?

To say there were 307 (yes, that is ten times the normal gate) present, you could hear a pin drop; it was like being at a cricket match. Maybe it was the fatigue of all these folks having already watched 270 minutes of football that day, or maybe they didn't find the game that interesting, or maybe they were only there to get that "tick" on their list - either way there was a flat feel to the atmosphere. The most logical explanation for the atmosphere is my greatest gripe of groundhoppers, which is the lack of affiliation to the clubs they watch, as opposed to myself and others I know who affiliate themselves to one of the teams (if you catch my drift). I found myself shouting for the home team, half the reason was because of the rough-house tactics employed by Pinxton, the other half was because between the sticks for them was Wayne "Sinbad" Atkins - keeper extraordinaire! Sinbad (for those of you who haven't read this column before) is a hero of mine, not least because his goalkeeping style is very similar to my own (haphazard someone once called me), but because he's a lovely bloke always willing to have a chat - even when the game is on, actually even when the other team are on the attack and looking like certain goalscorers! Anyway, he's returned to Welbeck after going to Blidworth last season, and he would have a pretty central part to the whole story today. The strange thing about the game today was it would have four officials, and with all the trimmings like electronic substitutes board (so that the hoppers on the far side could make a note of the substitutions - ahem), however between the four of them they allowed some pretty horrid challenges go unchecked. That was the thing that got me eventually rooting for the home team, with the visitors employing the kind of "tackles" that would make anyone turn their head, especially a couple by the Pinxton defenders on the Welbeck number three North - how the kid stayed on was surprising, and how the offenders stayed on was even more surprising. But stay on they did, and on the half hour mark Pinxton took the lead following some typical Sinbad keeping, when John Lynk headed from close range, the keeper fell on his arse and paddled the ball into the net - although I have to defend him here by saying he was wrong-footed! Welbeck equalised just on half time when Liam Colclough beat the offside trap, much to the annoyance of the Pinxton bench who were screaming for offside (he wasn't lads - honest), and with the keeper Tony Deakin to beat he calmly lifted the ball into the net. Well that's how it stayed, my mate's lad Rick went round with a survey to see which ground had the best hospitality (Welbeck won, but I was informed it should have been Santos), and everyone started to drift over to the exits as time was running out. Then just as the added time board was being shown, our Sinbad went for a ball and ended up writhing in agony, shortly after he left the field to be replaced by an outfield player. You can guess what happens next, Pinxton's Martin Jones crossed into the box, up rose Martin Willoughby who glanced the ball into the corner of the net. Not many people at the exits saw it, and even more were annoyed when the tannoy didn't announce the scorer - just shows you it ain't over till its over. So laden with their programmes, badges and baseball caps, everyone trudged out to their mode of transport (not public I hasten to add), and thankfully - this time - all my tyres were in good nick when I got to my car.

 

 

 

As it is the weather ain't that bad when I get there, but as this is one of the more basic grounds, you tend to be exposed to the inclement elements so to speak. The ground was one of the best in the Midland Regional Alliance, however to get with the best there is a great deal still to be done - and they've made a start with a sixty seater roof-less stand, which my good friend Asa informs me cost £1,000. Bolsover's opponents tonight were Blidworth Welfare, who had a "delayed" start to the season due to a dispute with the league about who should be promoted into the Supreme Division due to Greenwood not having their lights installed in time, as you can guess they lost their appeal and have done pretty poorly to boot. Today however they started like the proverbial house on fire; a hopeful ball had the centre-back Ingall at sixes and sevens, the keeper should have collected it but didn't and Welfare's centre forward Tony Law nipped in to prod the ball home with just over a minute on the watch. Sloppy though the goal was, Bolsover never produced anything of quality to show why they are where they are in the table, as Blidworth sat back and soaked it up. The visitors went a man down ten minutes before the break, with their not-too--bright number four getting a straight red for stamping on an opponent. Just after an old fashioned half-time break, where both teams and the officials had their interval on the pitch, Bolsover took advantage of their one man advantage by drawing level through John Parsons who drilled the ball from a narrow angle. That was it as far as scoring went, but as the light started to fade rapidly and Blidworth started to waste time, the referee evened things up by sending leading scorer Matty Wildman off for giving constant verbal abuse. Overall it ended up being a bit of a disappointment on the pitch, although Bolsover should have already done enough to secure third spot, and a draw was a fair result. Even so - it was still better than some of the stuff I've had to endure lately.....

 

 

 

The game kicked off in very pleasant conditions, the sun was just going down behind the houses opposite the stand as the game got underway, and as you'd expect Halifax started strongest. The football was a nice passing game, with both sides giving me the well needed antidote to the tosh I'd had to suffer at Ratby a few days earlier. It looked as though it was only going to be a matter of time before the Shaymen (crap nickname alert) took the expected lead, then the clouds came across the evening sky, then it slashed it down! Vertically as well, and all of a sudden the pretty football dissipated into the night, with both teams getting caught out in the footwear department by the deluge. The deadlock was finally broken on the stroke of half time when a back-pass from Halifax's Dean Howell put the keeper Adrian Gawthorpe under real pressure, as he raced off his line he brought down David Cooke on the edge of the area, the referee was in no doubt. Gawthorpe should have walked by rights and was quite fortunate to get away with a yellow card, but he got punished anyway from the spot, as he was beaten by Mark Stuart despite guessing the right way. You would have expected Halifax to come out for the second half with all guns blazing, after all the team did contain seven players that were in the squad at the weekend, but to be honest they didn't and Guiseley held on comfortably. The rain died to down to give way to fog rolling in from the marshes, Gawthorpe escaped a sending off for a second "racing off the line" offence when he brought Cooke down again, this time nearly launching the Guiseley player over the fence. Cooke should have wrapped it up for the underdogs when he was found in acres of space in the middle, unfortunately he headed straight at Gawthorpe, although it hardly mattered in the end. Halifax were timid and meek, a fact not lost on the furious Chris Wilder after the game, and never troubled Guiseley enough to stop them lifting the trophy for the seventh time. Who knows, come May 10th at Hillsborough the underdog could be lifting the Sheffield and Hallamshire County Cup, they have for the last two years - let us all hope for a third!

 

 

 

Yep, eight people stood watching Ratby versus Birstall, there were more watching on Pitch 8 at Warminster Road on Sunday! That eight included me, the father of one of Ratby's substitutes, and three or four people related to one of the Birstall players. Not surprisingly, the game wasn't all ticket. Desford Lane (for that is the name of the ground) is the sort of set up that would be well at home in the Central Midlands League, not much in the way of hard standing, whilst the cover is provided by an odd looking stand which I'm convinced used to be changing rooms or something. I tried to do a bit of a lap of the ground, basically to find the best vantage point, but got stuck behind the dugouts - so much for adventure, but having said that it wasn't as if I had someone obstructing my view. So, with my seven hardy compatriots to keep me company I stood and suffered the game, brutal as expected. The league's shoddiness was enhanced by the fact that the referee had only one man to run the line, the other was run by a Birstall official - not that it stopped him getting the obligatory torrent of abuse from the players (of BOTH teams and benches). Example - from the Ratby bench "Foxy - everytime, every bastard time, it's like your arm's on a spring. Scared of losing, or what?" Linesman's reply "Spider - go and bollocks!" It wouldn't have been so bad if they'd have been on the same touchline, but they were on opposite sides of the pitch and in opposite halves! Example - from Birstall defence when Ratby sprung the offside trap "Lino, you haven't got a clue have you?" So much for bias. There were a couple of goals early on, one for each side, both scored by the Birstall centre half - the first after ten minutes in his favour, heading home a corner; the second for the visitors, when a corner bounced in off his knees. It wasn't pretty to watch, but the biggest surprise was the overall leniency given by the referee, which was underpinned by the decision to book two opposing midfielders with bad haircuts who had decided to have a toe-to-toe brawl - for in his words "aggressive attitude" - if you got booked for having that, there wouldn't have been a player left on the pitch tonight. Ah well, it wasn't as if they were playing to a massive audience, I think games like these are better off being kept secret!

 

 

 

Alright, so I've drummed on enough about Hathern, but they had to overcome an obstacle in the form of Hinckley United. As you'd expect in a "Junior" Cup its hardly going to be the Knitters first team is it? Especially as they've got an away tie at Altrincham in the Conference North to compete in at 3.00 pm, so they were represented by a reserve outfit (something we see very little of around our area at the moment), but they were expected to be a formidable outfit nonetheless having dominated this competition in recent history. The game was taking place at County FA Headquarters at Holmes Park in Whetstone, a dedicated ground just South of Leicester, something that isn't as unique as you'd think really (I'll more than likely be covering the West Riding Senior Cup soon, and harping on about giant breakfast baps - they too have a dedicated ground, as do Manchester). The ground is set in a fairly new looking residential area, with the buildings on the ground fitting in nicely with the estate, although I doubt the ground would be considered good enough for the Northern Counties Premier Division let alone anything higher on the pyramid despite being in such a pristine state. A crowd of about 300 gathered in the picturesque complex, and I have to say it was nice to be able to watch the game in such pleasant surroundings with the sun on my back, especially after the mist that shrouded most of the drive down to Leicester. The first half was played in a very good spirit from both sides, with the very competent referee having little to do in way of cautions, apart from disallowing a goal by Hathern's Dave Insley for a foul on Hinckley keeper Mark Lewis. At the other end John Grady hit the post with a stunning header, but to be fair both teams went into the half time break deservedly on level terms. In the second half it was a different story as Hinckley took the game to the villagers, and it took them only four minutes or so to break the deadlock; a precision lob by Adam Cayless beat Adey Snewin in the Hathern goal. At one-nil up the Knitters started to pile on the pressure and a second looked inevitable, and try as they might, they just could get the clincher. The reason why? An inspired keeping performance from Snewin who saved attempt after attempt; a Cayless header should have been a certain goal - saved. Neil Topham was denied not once, but twice - a clear shot saved, then moments later in a rare occasion where Snewin was beaten, the post denied him. Hathern always looked like snatching something on the break, but in the dying seconds the game was put out of reach; a cross from Dougie Wade was met by the head of Cayless - nothing Snewin could do about it. The Cup was Hinckley's, and as I made my hasty exit to head back North for the afternoon game at the Coach, I'm sure I saw the ghostly figure of an ugly Viking looking pretty fed up with himself.

 

 

 

 

 

Footnote: Amazingly following this article, I was made an "honorary member" of the Caliu Gracienc Penya, and I now contribute regularly to the club's programme/fanzine. Pretty amazing, huh?

 

 

 

So I arrived at the ground in good time (well ten minutes before kick off), just so I could have a butcher's at the old place that had been home to The Knitters (yep, what a crap nickname - puts "The Hatters" to shame) for the last seven years, and I could see how a move would probably be for the best. The ground is a complete heap - falling to bits - a shambles, there's too many ways to describe it and none of them are good. I spent the whole of the journey home trying to think of which ground it reminded me of, but in the end I thought it was a composite of all the bad, derelict places I'd visited in the past. The club shop was decidedly ramshackle, and seemed to be leaning rather precariously with bits of plywood peeling away, and don't get me started on the structure behind the goal which claimed to be a "clubhouse" - it was a pre-fabricated building on stilts that looked about as safe as something not very safe - needless to say I did not venture into there. The stand had a mini-Buxton feel to it, before they started to do the extra work on it, and it would cost an extra quid to have the privilege of sitting in it. I declined that option and took my place among the masses in the chicken shed opposite (their name for it, not mine) and watched the game as Vauxhall ripped up the book by scoring inside ten minutes, with an exquisite lob from Karl O'Donnell beating Tommy Whittle all ends up. That started an old bloke behind me going - "Chippy Whittle, they always chip Whittle. Chip, chip, Chippy Whittle" - and so he continued until a few minutes later Vauxhall got a corner and scored with a header from the debutant centre half Steve McNulty. When James Olsen made it three for the Motormen (another crap nickname) with a free-kick from the edge of the box, with everyone in the defence stood watching in disbelief, Vauxhall had got their highest score of the season and there was still an hour to go. The howls of discontent were even more apparent a few seconds before the end of the half when a bad back-pass from Andy Penny was intercepted by O'Donnell, who squared it into the middle for the captain Robbie Lawton, he tapped it into the empty net for the fourth and it was game over. Five minutes into the second half the Hinckley centre forward Colin Marrison headed goalwards from a corner, the ball was flapped up into the air by the keeper and fell into the net, could it be the start of a great comeback? Erm, no - Hinckley continued to be aimless and dodgy at the back and it could have been worse, that is if Anthony Wright hadn't missed a gilt edge chance to make it five (although I'm glad he missed because his continual bickering with the linesman - even though they were four up - was getting on my nerves) when he struck the ball at a pile of bodies on the line when it would have been easier to score. With fifteen minutes still to play Vauxhall started playing the corners, and the home fans were heading to the exits, even league teams had been to Middlefield Lane and left empty handed. Saturday 12 February sees the last game at this ground, then they are due to move into their new plush stadium - I just hope they can produce football to suit the surroundings, because one thing's for sure - they did tonight.

 

 

 

As you'd expect with such tragic events recently, a minute's silence was held for the victims of the tsunami in Asia - this was followed by the referee's whistle, a man shouting "c'mon Villa!" then the rain started. Slowly at first, then the gale kicked in, the rain got harder and then I realised there was going to be no relenting for the next ninety minutes or so - the strength of the wind made sure that umbrellas were a no go (as a poor groundhopper found out to his cost), and that meant I was going to get wet, very wet. The visitors (who you had to feel sorry for playing in their short sleeved Pepsi sponsored tee-shirts - god they looked cold) had the wind behind them for the first half, and looked to have ripped up the form book when they took a surprise lead after just sixteen minutes; a corner in from Steve Garrett was headed goalwards by Phillip Smith (a man who looked disturbingly like Don Warrington - the bloke who played another PHILLIP SMITH in the famous Leonard Rossiter sitcom, Rising Damp - you know the one Miss Jones fancied), the Calverton keeper John Grocock flapped it onto the head of the big striker Craig Bruce's head, and it sort of apologetically went in. A minute before the end of a gruelling first half Bruce got the second, a sweet strike from twenty five yards, and as we trudged towards warmth at half time the unlikeliest of results looked to be a possible outcome. The refreshment bar was open, but unfortunately there was no food on sale, so it was a welcome cup of tea to be had. Somehow though, whilst I was trying to take a drink, the tea was blown into my face - at least that was a part of me that was nice and warm. It only took five minutes after the restart for Calverton to get one back, not a shock really, especially with the huge advantage of the now horizontal rain behind them. The ball broke across the box to Martin McArdle who showed great presence of mind and composure to toe-poke the ball under the visiting keeper Danny Walton, and all of a sudden the shock looked anything but assured. Calverton pounded the Awsworth defence, and the defence cleared the ball everywhere and anywhere. After a series of corners and with about fifteen minutes left, the home team levelled the scores; yet another corner from Luke Smith was headed home by the substitute Ben Horton, and now the home team were after all three points. Somehow the visitors managed to hang on, and after an additional five minutes of added time (mainly for the ball being blown into the next county) everyone, players and spectators alike breathed a collective sigh of relief and scuttled off to somewhere dry - and in my case that was the car. Then the rain stopped - what a start to the year - good game though.

 

 

 

The directions I was given to Plains Road were probably the most basic you'd ever find - simply "it is on the B684" - so I didn't hold much hope of finding it too easily. It didn't make for the safest driving method either, I don't usually subscribe to driving with a map on your knee - especially when you are trying to find an obscure "B" Road at the same time. Luckily I arrived safely, despite getting a text message from a certain Mr Bray inviting me to Ossett Town just as I am approaching the said B684 (wish it'd been earlier really - I might have gone there). The pitch didn't show any of the snow and ice I'd been expecting, in fact it looked in fine fettle, which made me wonder if the game at Hallam would have gone ahead if THAT was a 2.00pm kick off. By kick off time a healthy sized crowd of 107 had gathered, pretty good considering, and as expected Gedling started to hammer the Olympic goalmouth. Scott Miles in the Radcliffe goal was a man under siege, and he kept the visitors in the game with a fine double save from the home captain Jason Booth. Radcliffe were a bit crude in the defending, their two lardy central defenders seemed happy to hack and kick anyone who moved in their vicinity; Gedling's Paul McCaughey was one of the victims of Russell Best (or worst whichever way you want to look at it) and had to limp off at half time, the Gedling lad spent the second half walking round telling everyone who'd listen what an animal this guy was and how the referee was... well you can guess the rest. With ten minutes left in the first half, and much against the run of play, Radcliffe took the lead - a poorly cleared corner saw the ball land at the feet of the veteran John Humphreys (not the guy from Radio 4 Today programme) who chipped the home keeper Darren Wright for a spectacular goal. Norman Limb had an opportunity to double the lead shortly after the restart, but Wright got down blocking the ball bravely - things for Gedling though were looking decidedly dire. For a start, one of their players was sick - literally - and the rest of the side looked to be turning into a shambles. The captain "Boomer" Booth had to be spoken to by the referee for physically berating the substitute Ben Smith - for not passing to him - whilst their non-playing substitute looked rather disinterested preferring to read the programme than watch the match. With time running out for the home team they started to press the visitors, a corner from McGinty caused all manner of chaos in the Radcliffe goalmouth, and with three minutes left they finally got an equaliser. It was a good 'un too, a long ball from the keeper, went via Epps into the path of Steve Bull (no, not that one either - no celebrities this week) who curled the ball over the head of the keeper into the top corner. A bit lucky I suppose to see two goals that were so good, especially as the game wasn't that sparkling, but at the end of the day they got the game on and today that was the main thing.

 

 

 

As you'd imagine Fairweather Green turned out in (yep, go on have a guess) green, with the Hull side playing in blue, and as you'd also guess with it been a cold and miserable day there weren't many home fans at the kick off (go on, think about it). Prestige Brighams had already got the pedigree in this competition, and even though I knew relatively little about either side, I knew the visitors would be favourites. It only took them just over ten minutes to get what would be ultimately the winning goal; a cross into the box was missed by everyone and some slack marking at the back allowed Graham Botham to volley in from ten yards, leaving the Fairweather keeper Mark Tasker no chance. The standard of the game left a lot to be desired, I mean it was even more of a "clog-fest" than in the Meadowhall, and some of the challenges would have the hardest nut cracked. The home team tried to hammer down the defences of their classier, fitter looking visitors, but nothing came anywhere like close. The attendance was swelled for the second half, as all the other Bradford Sunday League teams had finished and showered down and headed down to Hollingworth Lane, and I found myself standing next to a familiar local face from the world of professional football. So my usual role of being the bloke who asks what the score is, turned into the role of person who gave a summary of all events that had happened to this point, and it took all the will in the world to stop myself from asking my illustrious neighbour why he'd got sent off at Kenilworth Road four weeks ago (or for that matter what he thought of Neil Warnock). The action on the pitch was never going to add anything else to the scoreline, although it was end to end and Fairweather made certain they didn't go down without a fight, but in the end most of their shots were either saved easily or ended up in the factory yard. The final whistle was met with cheers from the thirty who'd seen the kick-off and a mass troop to the bar by everyone else - for me it was straight to the car and back home, and I must say at a strangely early hour as well. And the standard of the football? Well if this is the best this competition has to offer, I think there ought to be some of our local clubs in here next season; I reckon they'd have a chance.

 

 

 

Another of my football etiquette rules is "never leave until the final whistle", after all it never ceases to amaze me how many last ditch goals you get to see, even if most of them seem to come against your own team. Unfortunately for me this one went to extra time, you could guarantee that with me feeling under the weather, it seems I'm never ill - but when I am circumstances turn viciously against me. The game wasn't a classic by any stretch of the imagination, a pitch with more dips in it than a Blackpool Pleasure Beach ride made certain of that, but it was certainly end-to-end stuff with both teams probably having the opportunity to sew the game up long before the ninety minute mark. Radcliffe got the scoreboard ticking, big centre back Luke Humphreys stabbed the ball home after about ten minutes, following a truly awfully defended corner. Olympic had a chance to wrap it up with a fair few missed chances as they ripped the Carlton defence to bits, just before half time though the home team fluked an equaliser when ex- Dunkirk player Dominic Thomas mis-cued the ball from the touchline over the head of the keeper Scott Miles (who never put a foot wrong all night) into the net, unfair I know but I remember the same happening to Darren Bonnington for Sheffield up the road at Gedling a few seasons ago. On the hour Carlton got in front, Phil Bignall scrambling the ball in from close range, and now it was they who were in the ascendancy and would have wrapped it up if not for some top class saves of Miles. Just when it looked as though there was going to be no alarms or surprises Damien Rennicks jinked his way into the box, only to be blatantly upended by a defender; Norman Limb (another ex-Dunkirk player) stepped up and put the equaliser into the net. By now I had resigned myself to extra time (even if my throat hadn't) and almost predictably both teams had chances, clear chances at that, to kill the game. They didn't and it took until three minutes before the end of the first half of extra time for Olympic to regain the lead, this time Rennicks was the scorer with a fantastic goal, similar to the one Beckham scored against Wales (only mirror image). This time the team in the lead did kill the game off with four minutes to go, so at least it didn't go to penalties, Matt McCaul cut in from the right beating four tiring defenders and shot from the edge of the area. So in the end 4-2 to the underdogs, and despite reservations to the contrary, this turned out to be one Olympic Marathon that Radcliffe was destined to win (sorry for that but I just couldn't resist it). 

 

 

 

 

After the game it was agreed this was a blinding game (and one of the best I'd seen so far this season), and well worth the £2.00 admission, and begs the question "with the standard of football being served up by clubs in this league, what would they do in the Central Midlands?" For mine I reckon both of these would go great guns, the one factor that I think would deter them is the travelling expenses ('cos the football is no better), so I guess we'll never find out. Or will we? Now, I wonder if we'll get Frecheville in the next round, away would be nice as it's only round the corner......

 

 

 

Leaving Sheffield I had a feeling the game would fall to the fog (I'm getting more and more paranoid about this - you can tell winter is coming), it was a pea-souper all the way through to Alfreton, but listening to Birmingham City versus Palace on the radio made me feel a lot easier. As I landed in Bloxwich the weather was much brighter than up North and I parked up in the club car-park, a mistake I wrote I'd never make again the last time I came as it took an age to get out after the game, and went into the bar before it got rammed with Leamington fans. I was surprised the Brakes didn't bring a lot more fans (they average a hundred or so more than Buxton, so gauge it that way - how many would Buxton take to a fixture of this kind?), this being a top of the table clash and all, and I was even more surprised by the lack of Bloxwich fans (had everyone taken the lead from my old mate - who was also appeared to be absent by the way) especially seeing as they had a successful team to watch now. I took my spot on the half way line, to be joined shortly after by a man with a video camera, apparently they film EVERY match and sell DVDs of the game to raise funds for the supporters club - what a novel idea. I was tempted (and still am I may add) to buy a copy of the game, although there were two stumbling blocks to this - one my head is in 50% of the shots, the other was the game was a bit dour. I suppose you could expect the quality of the game to be this way, neither side could afford to lose (although it still is early in the season) and that told in some of the challenges, but the skill levels of both sides wasn't that bad and compensated somewhat. It was a hard fought game with the deciding goal coming two minutes before the break, the visitors grabbing it as the impressive Josh Blake crossed low from the left and Paul Nicholls pounced to slide the ball home from close range. The referee was lucky not to lose control of the game, seeing as the tackles were getting tastier and he seemed to want to take little or no action, although he tightened up towards the end when it was too late. After the game it seemed no-one wanted us to leave, first the gates were shut until five minutes after the final whistle, then on escaping the confines of the ground I found my car grid-locked in the car park (oh how history repeats itself!). Obviously the Kestrels' committee had been looking at new and innovative ways of keeping fans at Abbey Park; naturally no-one expected kidnap and imprisonment to be two of their options!

 

 

 

Having not seen AFC this season, which compared to last season when I got to see them an inordinately huge number of times is surprising, I wasn't sure what to expect. They are unbeaten in the league, and only last week they dropped their first points of the season at Bolsover, after causing some major rumbles in the rest of the league's defences. When you consider they were up against Pinxton, who themselves are newcomers to the Central Midlands, you wouldn't expect much else than an away win (even the manager said so in the programme notes). The only thing that could be a stumbling block was the weather, and the pitch conditions, which were more suited to synchronised swimming than decent football. But even that looked to be a minor obstacle for the visitors, as they steamed forward and took the lead on seven minutes, with AFC's influential skipper Terry Taylor heading home unmarked from a free-kick. The common consensus was that Barnsley would go on and get a hat-full - how wrong. Only a pile driver of a shot from ex-Clubbie Darren Utley went anything near to close and even then some pretty sharp reflexes from Pinxton keeper Tony Deakin kept the score the same. As the rain continued, and the pitch cut up, you got the feeling it was like one of those FA Cup third round ties you used to see on Match of the Day between giants and underdogs. Even so, there was nothing to set the pulse racing until the last seconds of the half when Daz Utley and the keeper Stuart Ford had a right old mix up and Andy Wright could only stab it wide from six yards out. In the second half the game started to be an energetic mish-mash of mis-timed passes and mis-timed tackles, as the conditions (and Pinxton's enthusiasm) ensured the game became more even. Midway through the second half Pinxton's Ben Marshall rasped a shot narrowly over the bar with the keeper beaten, but with fifteen minutes to go he went one better, beating the keeper from twenty five yards - memories of Hereford versus Newcastle rekindled, the only difference was there were no kids in parkas running across the pitch with joy. Well alright it wasn't that dramatic, but the lads on the bank behind the goal enjoyed it, and all of a sudden AFC's unbeaten run looked to be on ground less solid than the pitch. In the end time ran out for both teams in their attempt to grab all three points, and to be honest in conditions like this I can't give a critical assessment of our upcoming cup opponents. Well I could - but not in this article!

 

 

 

As I touched upon a little earlier, the rain absolutely slashed it down all the way up the M18, along the M180 and onto the M181 - so much so it washed out a fair portion of the day's fixtures (including our own Under 19s game at Matlock). When I managed to weave around the puddles (nay, lakes) to the ground, half listening to the last moments of the England versus Azerbaijan game on the radio, it suddenly occurred it might be a long journey for nowt. That fear was allayed when an old chap appeared carrying a table, money tray and pile of programmes, to set up stall inside the entrance. The pitch looked to have held up despite all the rain, and the referee never even bothered to check the under-foot conditions, so the game went ahead in front of twenty hardy souls gathered under the stand. Borough looked everything a team in second place should look, especially when playing a team near the foot of the table, as they bombarded the home team's goal. To everyone's surprise, mine included, Bottesford took the lead five minutes before the break when Barry Guest nipped in at the back post to steal a goal. The visitors almost snatched an immediate equaliser when Lee Stephenson hit the post with everyone beaten, and this set the pattern for the majority of the second half, one of utter frustration for the visitors. There's no doubt Borough were the better side, but as the game went on the in-fighting and bickering looked to tear them apart, and with this Bottesford just sat back and cleared their lines with ease. With five minutes of the game left though, the picture changed in a sudden and dramatic way, as the visitors hit three quick-fire strikes. The first came as the substitute Kevin Short, who had only been on the field a matter of moments, scrambled the ball home after a bit of penalty-area pinball. A draw looked to be as much as Borough should have hoped for at this point, but three minutes later they snatched all three points, this time Richard Creer was the man to finish. In the last seconds the turnaround was complete, albeit a little more slanted than justified, when Lee Stephenson struck home a free-kick from the edge of the box. The result probably will go to sum up the rest of the two teams' seasons; the Poachers, promising so much but delivering nothing, whilst Borough will be there (or thereabouts) due to luck and sheer tenacity. Either way it was a good game (much more memorable than my last visit), and at least I got to see ninety minutes - unlike the game at Teversal.....

Askern had started the season dreadfully, taking only one point out of NINE games - and that was against top of the table Dinnington, so you can imagine they were firmly rooted to the bottom of the league. Kiveton on the other hand had started like a house on fire, winning four of their first six and topping the table at one point; however their form of late has mirrored that of Askern - losing the three games prior to this fixture. So I wasn't expecting much of a spectacle football-wise, and given the conditions were windy to say the least, what we ended up seeing was better than could be hoped for. Kiveton had their chances to take all three points early on, as their lanky front two seemed to cause the Askern defence all manner of problems; however when Askern took the lead on twenty minutes there only looked to be one winner. James Irwin outpaced the Kiveton defence, managed to get his foot around the ball, and looped the ball over the keeper's head into the net - a good goal, given the circumstances. Neither benches had many kind words to say about the officials, who to be fair didn't do a bad job, but moments before the second goal a humorous conversation took place between the home and away teams' managers. It went something like this; "Bloody clueless this referee!" "Aren't they all at this level?" "Aye, that's why they're at this level!" "Aye, 'cos no other bloody league would take 'em!" "I know what you mean, we've had this prat five times this season and he's given us nowt!" All the while in the middle of them, the linesman is stood looking more and more embarrassed, whilst abuse is coming at him in stereo! Don't you feel sorry for the officials? Anyway the free-kick that sparked the above conversation, about five minutes before half time, was drifted into the top corner by Kristian Robson to give Askern the two-nil final scoreline. Nothing Kivo could do could claw back the deficit, although they had their chances, and the second half deteriorated into a dour encounter. At least Askern had their first wins under their belts; however they will probably need to improve to avoid being in the thick of the relegation battle come the end of the season. Anyway, on my way back to the car I'm sure I saw a drunk ferret with a pit helmet spouting abuse at this miner, or perhaps I was just imagining it.....

 

 

 

The new season hasn't been too kind to Heather, a draw and two heavy defeats have introduced them to life in Division One; however it had been even harsher on Burntwood Town. After finishing twelfth in Division One last season, they too had got off to (what's the opposite of flyer?) a bad start, losing ALL three of their games and languishing at the foot of the table. They were even below the worst team I saw last season, Loughborough FC, who were spared relegation by technicalities - I feared it would be a game I would regret. Quite the opposite actually, as it turned out the game was pretty entertaining with some spectacular goals and end-to-end action, and a surprise result to boot. The crowd was boosted to about 70 by a group numbering in the region of twenty groundhoppers, who failed to realise no-one in Leicestershire prints programmes in midweek, and this gave a few moans to say the least. In Heather's case though it also meant they were unable to take money at the gate - don't ask me why, it was posted everywhere it was £2.00 to get in and they had a pay gate - but because they charge admission by programme and there weren't any to be sold, there was no gate receipts. The game itself as I said was a cracker, well I enjoyed it anyway, everyone else seemed to be talking through the game about where they'd been (if they'd asked me, I'd have said work!!). The scoring started after less than a minute when Heather's number six, Ricky Stephanou, lofted a ball into the net beyond the keeper from over thirty yards out. Five minutes later Burntwood equalised when THEIR number six, Nigel Hedden, lofted a ball into the net beyond the keeper from over thirty yards out. Just before the interval Burntwood got a pretty undeserved winner against the run of play, this time their number eight Steve Stratten beat the keeper, yet again from over thirty yards out. The visitors never really looked like they were at the game, other than on the scoreboard anyway, as Heather pounded their defence for the rest of the match. They were lucky to hang on to say the least, and never threatened up front either, well looking at their one man front line you wouldn't expect it. Burntwood's one forward, number ten Robbie Higham, must be the only player in the Midland Combination to have his age on his shirt (think about it). In the end frustration took the better of the home team and they couldn't get the winner they deserved, even though they threw everything at the visitors. Despite the defeat Heather will probably end up with a more comfortable season than Burntwood, I guess luck favoured the visitors on the day, and given a couple more seasons the St Johns Park team will be a force to reckon with higher up the ladder.

 

 

 

It had rained solid since Monday, well it had to seeing as I was on holiday this week, so it was doubtful in my mind as to whether the game would survive. The only solace I could gain was from the fact it was at a Welfare, and we all know that means good drainage, so I decided on heading to the game without ringing first. The weather cleared dramatically, in fact it was positively summer-like (even Copacabana-like), so much so that I ended up driving there with sunglasses on. The game was a 6.30 kick off, so people were still turning up at the gate fifteen minutes in, and subsequently a fair few missed the first goal. It wasn't to be the last, but it was well against the run of play, coming to the home team on the break and finished by youngster Liam Hearn. Santos didn't hold their lead for too long, two minutes or thereabouts, before Bolsover equalised with a header of their own and then promptly followed it up with four more simple finishes (beating the offside trap twice, a fumble by the keeper and a cross) before the break. With the visitors leading 5-1 at half time, the common consensus from all around was that the scoring would stop, how wrong they were as the carnival of goals continued. The Dragons started to make a good fist of it and Hearn managed to get his second, even though he looked a mile offside, and his hat-trick with twenty minutes still to go. Santos' defence looked if anything suspect, and I'm being kind there, and in the last fifteen minutes conceded another three soft goals. Sandwiched in the middle of these was another Santos conciliation to make it 4-6 at the time, but in the end the 4-8 scoreline just about summed up Bolsover's superiority. Santos have a good deal still to do, and probably a mid-table finish is the best they could expect this season, whereas Bolsover look to be a more solid team even though they shipped in four goals. This Santos claim to produce "Football in its purest form", a pretty bold claim by any standards, perhaps with a couple of good wins under their belts (and maybe some Brazilian signings) they could be entertaining the CMFL this season to the samba beat.

 

 

 

The "mutual respect" was pretty self-evident before the kick off, both sets of players seemed to know each other socially, and there was a lot of hand-shaking and back-slapping during the warm up. The gulf between the two teams on the pitch was more than a little obvious after the first whistle, and we seemed to be looking at our second one-sided contest inside twenty four hours, as United went on the attack and nearly scored inside twenty seconds. Ashton took the expected lead about fifteen minutes in, Paul Garvey the scorer with a sweet volley from the edge of the area, and never looked like losing from thereon in. They got a second shortly after when Jamie Miller embarrassed the Curzon keeper, who committed himself to a cross from Craig Fleury, leaving the United forward an easy task in looping his header over the stranded stopper. The visitors to be fair looked a lively proposition, and should give Club a decent game when the visit for their pre-season visit to the Coach, with Matthew Edgington looking particularly lively on the left-flank. The usual gaggle of substitutions at half time gave the game a different complexion, adding to the reasons I'm not too keen on these games with the resulting lack of coherence in both teams, and naturally the visitors started to get their noses back into the game; it took just about five minutes for them to reduce the arrears as some expected slack defending left Stuart Ball time and space to slot an easy goal from close range. The Curzon goalie (not their regular number one by all accounts) was having a 'mare, and it was he who gifted United a third, with Phil Cooney tapping in the rebound from Jamie Miller's fumbled shot. As the game drew to a close Curzon pulled another one back, the young winger (Kyle Harrop I think his name was) showed some good feet to set up Mohammed Baldeh with an open goal, the finish was a little over extravagant for my liking though. The scoreline was finished in the dying seconds as we were making our way to the exit, Cooney getting his second of the day and adding to the keeper's nightmare game, the midfielder cutting through a totally static defence and finishing with the ball rolling past the stunned goalie. I suppose in the end it was standard fare for pre-season, the 300 or so who witnessed it will have got some entertainment out of it, I know we did - sort of, anyway.  Curzon look as though they might have the tools to do something in the NWCFL and waltz into their new stadium playing UniBond footy, I'm sure you'll all be able to have your own opinions when they come to our patch on August 7th.