Chesterfield of dreams

When I arrive at St Pancras, it's crawling with Scotsmen in kilts, on their way to the rugby at Twickers. Bill Shipton, the brains behind 'Splosh!' magazine and possibly the funniest man in Britain, once suggested a radio station called Golden Punchlines, which would only broadcast the punchlines to really old jokes. As I make my way through the concourse, all I can think is, 'And coming up on Golden Punchlines this hour: no, it's all in perfect working order.'

I'm travelling on my own today and meeting Jenny and Tim in Sheffield, and the train is mayhem, full of people who've switched to this line because of engineering works elsewhere and who seem to be baffled by the concept of previously reserved seats. Most of them depart at Derby, but then at Chesterfield we're joined by dozens of their fans, most of whom seem determined to prove my dad right when he claims that they come from a town where they still point at aeroplanes. We lost at Saltergate to a goal in the sixth minute of added time back in September, and they haven't seemed inclined to let us forget it since. According to my dad, they've been ringing Radio Sheffield's 'Football Heaven' all week, claiming they're going to hammer us today. At the moment, though, they're more interested in singing songs about how much they hate Mansfield, and wondering whether they're going to have the chance of a ruck with Swansea, who are in town to play Wednesday.

All that's waiting for them at the Sheffield station, though, is police. I nip through the cordon to find Jenny and Tim, and we head for the Rutland. It was the pub we always used to use when we played Sheff U, but it's been closed for a while. However, a couple of people have told us it's reopened recently, so we investigate – only to find it shut. The alternative is the nearby Red Lion, where we're joined by Tim's mate, Andy, who's slightly baffled by the fact the city centre is full of people wandering round singing about how much they hate Cardiff...

Having lost to Aldershot in the week, we're not that optimistic about today's result. Chesterfield seem up for it, and there are some spiky exchanges between Dale Tonge and Drew Talbot, both of whom get booked for their pains. Jack Lester is, as you would expect, stationed somewhere near the halfway line for 97.4 per cent of the half: I'm sure if you saw his passport, his profession would read 'goalhanger'. Martin Gritton manages to miss an open goal and they also have a goal disallowed for offside. So it's all the sweeter that we're the ones who take the lead, with a nice three-man move being finished off by Reuben Reid. 'Ruby' rings out over the Tannoy, and I tell my dad that if Drewe Broughton scores, they should play Frank Sinatra singing 'Ain't That A Kick In The Head'.

At halftime, there's a five-a-side (or possibly five-a-day) game between the fruits and the vegetables. Quite why they think we want to watch a bloke dressed as a half-peeled banana nutmeg an opponent in a carrot costume I don't know, but it's still weirdly entertaining.

We expect Chesterfield to step it up after the interval, but instead we're the ones who come out on the attack, and what follows is the best ninety minutes of football I've seen us play all season. Reuben gets a second goal, latching on to a ball which Broughton heads into his path. Chesterfield have Talbot sent off for a challenge on Tonge after the ball. In no way is the Rotherham fans' delighted reaction to this influenced by the fact he used to play for Wednesday. Pablo Mills finally gets his first goal of the season with a 25-yard thunderbolt, and by the end the 'olés' are ringing round the stadium and the Spireites are streaming for the exit. 'Are you dressed as empty seats?' sings a bloke a couple of rows in front of us.

After the game, having given the players a generous ovation and collected the flag, Jenny and I go to The Old Queens Head (aka the Tudor Tavern). Tim and Andy join us, having managed to make a swift enough exit from the ground to fit in a pint at the Carlton before catching the tram.

On the train, we find ourselves sharing a carriage with the London Owls, one of whom is Tommy Craig, best known for his roles in 'Coronation Street' and 'Where The Heart Is'. 'Those DFS adverts can't be paying that well,' Jenny observes, 'because last time we saw him travelling, he was in first class!'

At a suspiciously Scotsman-free St Pancras, we meet up with Tim's brother-in-law, Ian, and Ted at the Betjeman. Needless to say, the beer goes down particularly smoothly after today's result. They're definitely not our bogey team any more...