Bury irritating

It's not often I actually take time off work to catch a midweek home game,
but this is one of those rare occasions. Jenny is waiting for me at St
Pancras as I battle my way through the lunchtime shoppers, but the train
itself is quiet and we're in Rotherham without any hitches by mid-afternoon.
She goes up to her brother's and I go to my parents' - home, after all,
being the place where they feed you properly. It means we both have to pass
on joining Phil Kyte and his dad for a pint of watery Stones' in the
Attercliffe Liberal Club before the game, but sometimes you have to make
these sacrifices...
On the bus to Meadowhall, my dad gets talking to a bloke we often used to
see on the way down to Millmoor. He proudly claims not to have missed a home
game in the last ten seasons, as well as making around half of the away
games, and given that he's clearly well into retirement, this puts mine and
even Jenny's dedication to shame.
This is my first night game at the DVS, and with Bury turning up on the back
of three straight draws, we should probably realise how this one is going to
go. The Shakers, these days, are a bit of Rotherham old boys' club. They're
managed by Alan Knill, who kept us up against all the odds the first time we
went into administration but couldn't repeat the feat the following season
when we started on (a mere) -10 points and was duly sacked. His assistant,
until recently, was former Miller Chris Wilder, who's been replaced by Chris
Brass (forever more known as 'poor old Chris Brass' after scoring that
comedy own goal against Darlo in which he managed to smack himself in the
face with the ball and break his own nose). Their goalkeeping coach is yet
another ex-Miller, Neil Cutler, known to the London Millers as Ivor after
the late Scottish poet, musician and thorough-going eccentric. I did find
myself explaining the nickname to him in the hospitality marquee at Millmoor
after a game a couple of seasons ago, but that's a story for another time...
Completing the connections, among the squad is Rotherham-born Ryan
Cresswell, who became a legend based on one substitute appearance on loan
last year, in which he helped turn a losing scoreline against Morecambe into
a 3-1 win, before promptly being recalled by Sheff U and being sent out to -
yes, you guessed it, Morecambe.
Knill has produced yet another of the division's big, physical, organised
teams, and in rainy, windy conditions they've clearly come determined not to
concede. The man to my left raves all game about Efe Sodje and what a great
defender he is - though what he's really great at is those little nudges and
tugs on players which are designed to go unnoticed by the ref. Commentators
call it 'experienced defending'. I think the bandanna baffles people...
Half-time is enlivened by a bunch of lads in replica away shirts dancing
randomly down the front of the stand and Ivor putting Bury's keeper, Wayne
Brown, through a spot of catching practice. I assume they work on such
essential aspects of a goalkeeper's game as pointless shouting at defenders
and timewasting at goal kicks on the training ground.
The game seems destined to peter out into a draw until about ten minutes
from the end, when Drewe Broughton is fouled in the area and Reuben Reid
converts the resulting penalty. It looks as though we're going to hold out
for the win, but then Bury get a free-kick. Everyone seems to forget about
marking the man with the silly headgear, and Sodje slams in a header to
equalise. It's a real sickener, even though ten minutes ago we would all
happily have settled for a point.
At Meadowhall bus station, my dad and I get the X78 back to Rotherham. Also
on the bus are the random dancers. It doesn't surprise either of us when,
back in Rotherham, they pile on the bus to East Dene. It's that kind of
place...