Clarkey Is A Legend!

On some trips it feels like the circus is never very far from rolling into town, but today that’s most definitely the case. Notts County have been Hoovering up all the media attention in the division ever since they were bought out by a mysterious consortium who may either be among the richest men in the Middle East or just a bunch of crooks depending on who you listen to, and come to the DVS having, on the face of it, sacked their manager because they’re not ten points clear at the top already (and if that’s what they wanted, they should have bought Oxford United...). So it should all be fun and games, then.
The LM contingent consists of me and Jenny – who are, as ever, at King’s Cross in good time – and Clarkey and Stephanie – who, as ever, make the train by the skin of their teeth. The Clarkes are staying in Rotherham for the weekend as it’s Cla rkey’s mum’s birthday and he’s taking her somewhere nice for lunch tomorrow. On the way up, Stephanie happens to mention that her friends think Clarkey is a legend. Now, we’ve called him a few things in our time, but...
As we walk from the tram to the Fat Cat, Stephanie asks me whether I still look out for signs before games, just at the moment when a lorry with ‘Travel Green’ on the side goes past. ‘Yes,’ I say, ‘and that’s today’s.’ Even though I know it doesn’t make any difference to the result, and everyone else knows it doesn’t make any difference to the result, it still has to be done.
Phil is waiting for us in the pub. After the game, he’s off to Nottingham to meet Watford Dan, as they’re going to the Carl Froch fight. It doesn’t actually kick off (or whatever the technical term is) until two in the morning, so they’ve got a list of pubs to try before they have to be in the venue at 11. Fortunately, Nottingham isn’t exactly short on good pubs, though we think Phil might be flagging a little come the end of the night.
On the tram to the stadium, we bump into the Manchester contingent, both of whom also have dads who are legends: Chris Burrows because his father was one of the London Millers’ founder members, tracked down after he rang Greater London Radio to talk about Rotherham on a phone-on show, and Chris Kirkland because – well, you only needed to watch him following the Yorkshire score on the way to Chelters to know why! After the game, the plan is to meet up and present Andy Warrington with the Player of the Season trophy, which Jenny had made in Rotherham, along with a replacement the John Ward trophy (named after another of the original London Millers and the man responsible for devising the voting system for each game’s man of the match, who sadly died eight years ago), the original of which was either lost by persons unknown at Millmoor or is in a box in Alan Lee’s attic.
The Greasebrough Millers flag is already on show for once (glory hunters!) and there’s definitely a bigger crowd than usual, though Notts County, although spilling over into the uncovered part of the stand, haven’t brought quite as many as we thought they might given their new-found money and relative success. The more excitable Rotherham fans have got seats in block six lower, closest to the away fans, so they can treat them to the predictable chorus of ‘scabs’. Let it go, boys, let it go...
I go to join my dad, who is a legend for more reasons than can be counted, his surreal abuse of referees and assorted players among them. Before kick-off, the photographers line up on the track in front of the directors’ box, snapping away at Sven. The lad who sits next to our chum with the two boys, and who’s kind of bonded with us, lets me know that Broughton and Nicholas have come in for Pope and Green. I suspect this is tactical, having watched Notts County’s televised game against TV, because their defence couldn’t cope with Torquay’s long throws (which are an important part of Nicholas’ game) and the awkward striker Tim Sills. We start brightly, but then Nicholas gets hurt in a clash of heads and has to go off to be stitched up, leaving us playing with ten men for a good ten minutes. Meanwhile, Nick Fenton gets booked when he tackles Lee Hughes (who is being roundly booed by the Rotherham fans) and Hughes lies on the ground beating the turf with his fist as though he’s seriously hurt. Of course, once Mr Boyeson has dished out a yellow card, Hughes gets up and trots off. If this was ‘Match Of The Day’, they would show you this booking as shorthand for ‘he’s off later’.
County are making the most of the extra man, and our passing is breaking down because the temptation can’t be resisted to just lump the ball to Drewe. Nicholas comes back on, but when the cut opens up again he’s replaced by Jamie Green. It’s not the greatest half of football we’ve ever played, and Don has to make a couple of important saves, but similarly Kaspar Schmeichel has to tip the ball over the bar (you don’t see any of our chances on the Football League highlights later, strangely...).
It being ‘Kick It Out’ week, there’s a half-time game between two teams of girls. What this has to do with eradicating racism from football isn’t immediately obvious, but it’s good entertainment nonetheless.
Five minutes into the second half, we’re down to ten men. Fenton makes a challenge and Ben Davies makes the most of whatever contact there might have been. However, this only serves to make the team play better. Big Pablo drops back into defence so we don’t have to sacrifice a forward. Nicky Law goes on a couple of threatening runs and the crowd really starts to get behind the team. County respond with more rolling around and feigning injury, with one of their players trying to imply that Ellison has elbowed him. Maybe they think they’d have a chance against nine men. All they do is prove that money really doesn’t buy you class...
They make a substitution, bringing on Luke Rodgers to double their quotient of bald, objectionable strikers, and Don is forced into action again, saving well before Pablo blocks the rebound. Right at the end, County think they’ve won it, but Rodgers’ shot is flagged offside.
Last week we drew and it felt like a defeat; this week we’ve drawn and it feels like a win. As I’m going to collect the flag, the League Two scores are coming through, and Darlo have won for the first time this season. I’m sure people think I’m mad when they see me cheering, but perhaps they just think I had a bet on them!
As we’re making our way to the sponsors’ lounge, someone manages to drop a tray off a trolley he’s wheeling. Chris K, ever the gent, goes to pick it up and only succeeds in getting grease down himself.
They park us in the executive lounge for a few minutes, where we spot Tony Stewart working the room and Nick Fenton collecting his wife and children, who presumably think his sending-off was as harsh as we do. Then Mr Warrington arrives and we join the queue of various sponsors and mascots for their presentation photo. He seems genuinely thrilled to have won our award (and met Clarkey the legend, of course), and we even get him to take away a London Miller questionnaire to fill in, including the obligatory question about bears and hovercraft. Speaking of which, we’ve already asked Miller Bear that one, because the opportunity was too good to miss. Safe to say a hovercraft won’t be joining his drum in his repertoire of crowd-pleasing accessories any time soon!
As we leave the ground, we spot Pablo Mills, who appears to be meeting his mum, and the match officials. We restrain ourselves from telling the ref what we thought of his performance, because we can behave ourselves sometimes.
At the tram, we go our separate ways. I get a call from Ted to tell me he’s at LAX, waiting for his flight home. ‘I just got a text from Tim about our win,’ he says. ‘Sent him one saying I hadn’t seen it because I’m in LA. He sent me one saying, “I’m in Ruislip.”
The journey back is quiet, apart from a couple of Watford fans in the carriage who are engaging in some fairly half-hearted chanting as they’ve beaten Middlesbrough. Where are those two very drunk QPR boys when you need them?