The Return Of Mission Aborted

It’s pretty much been the perfect week if you’re a Rotherham fan – firstly, the win against Grimsby was followed with a second at Chesterfield on Tuesday night. We seem to have pretty much buried the Saltergate hoodoo which followed us for years, and Tom Pope’s last-minute winner was the perfect revenge for losing there in the last minute last season. Then, on Wednesday, the site of the new stadium was announced, and it was the news we’d all been hoping for. It’s going to be built on the site of the old Guest and Chrimes foundry, and will be one of the only stadia in recent years which will actually be closer to the centre of town than the one it’s replacing. It’s also handily placed a) for the police station, for anyone who might have been thinking of misbehaving on match day and b) will be visible to the Booth family, reminding them of how foolish they were to get so stubborn over money that we moved away from Millmoor.
So it’s all set up for a good game against Macc. We’re hitting the north from two flanks. Jenny and I are going up from Kings Cross and Chris Turner and Clarkey are going from St Pancras, with the twain meeting eventually at the Fat Cat. Jenny and I are intending to head straight to Shalesmoor, while the boys are nipping into the Sheffield Tap first. On the tram platform, we’re joined by Chris Kirkland. It’s his grandma’s eightieth birthday, so a family celebration is planned. His mum and dad are on the way up, and will probably meet us in the Fat Cat, but every time Chris speaks to them, they’re ‘about an hour’ away from Sheffield, so we’ll see...
The first intimation that it might be another of those days is when we’re getting off the tram and Chris gets a message from Chris Burrows, who’s still in Manchester, to let him know there’s a pitch inspection at the DVS at one. Can we let him know as soon as we hear anything, as the last train he can catch which will get him here in time for kick-off is at 1.20. We debate the possibility of the game going ahead. It is absolutely freezing, but the sun’s out. Hopefully it will thaw in time.
At least the pub is nice and quiet when we get there. The resident cat, whose name we learn is Steffi, is torn between dozing and scrounging for leftovers, and there’s one girl in the corner waiting for some friends who turn out to be Plymouth fans. Unfortunately, they’ve followed her directions but found themselves in the Kelham Island Tavern instead (quite easy to do, as it’s the first pub you reach if you’re coming from the main road), so she’s going to have to go over there and round them up so they can come back here to eat.
By this time, I’m plugged in to Radio Sheffield, waiting for news. At ten past one, the white smoke appears and Howard ‘Howie’ Pressman (no relation to Kevin and his tray of pies, as far as we know) informs us the game has been called off. Chiz. Almost immediately, I get a call from my brother, who’s up for the weekend with Katie, asking whether I’ve heard the news. I have. I tell him to come over and have a drink with us anyway.
Chris T, Clarkey and Phil Kyte arrive, followed shortly afterwards by assorted Kirklands. We console ourselves with the possibility of a pub crawl, though the Kirklands go shopping in Meadowhall instead. Chris K does his best to get out of it, but no such luck. He will be mocked the next time we see him, oh, yes!
The Plymouth fans have finally found the pub. One of them is actually in shorts which, given our frozen pitch, is just extracting the Michael...
Fortified with leek and rosemary pie, among other things, Chris T, Clarkey and Phil decide to go to the Riverside – a pub we haven’t as yet tried. I stay behind with Jenny as my brother and Katie have just arrived. Katie has a new hobby since I saw her at Christmas, which is photography. She takes Robert’s camera and proceeds to photograph everything which moves – and everything which doesn’t, from the cat (which is now fast asleep) to the pub carpet to a Ruddles County beermat. She’s obviously a mini-Ted in the making, so I’ll give it a few years and see if she progresses to the pitchside photography.
We get a message to say the boys are moving on to the Gardener’s Rest and will see us there. Robert, having finished his pint and rounded Katie up from snapping the other customers, gives us a lift there. It’s not actually that far from where we are, but the one-way system, and the fact it’s not the easiest pub in the world to spot as it’s set back among what look like deserted buildings mean we don’t find it at first.
Inside, it’s surprisingly busy given its out-of-the-way location, but there’s a good choice of beers on draught and the landlord is chatty. He’s obviously been around a while, as for reasons which now elude me we get into a conversation about Peter Stringfellow and his brother, who the landlord used to know before Peter was into the thong swimwear and the considerably younger girlfriends...
We’re joined by Tim and his friend Andy, who we haven’t seen for a while. They want to know what’s going on at the Sheffield Arena, as they’ve been in the Carlton and the trams round Attercliffe were crawling with women of a certain age. Turns out it wasn’t a convention for members of the Drewe Broughton Appreciation Society, but ‘Strictly Come Dancing’ on tour.
Tales of packed trams reminds Jenny that we should be getting back to Sheffield before the hordes emerge from Hillsborough. Wednesday are winning, so there won’t have been mass sneak out-age before the end, and when we reach the Infirmary Road stop, we only have to wait a couple of minutes before a gratifyingly empty tram arrives.
The train from Sheffield to Donny is relatively empty, and when Jenny and I reach the Corner Pin, it’s to discover they have a beer festival on. It’s out in the beer garden (which we didn’t even realise they had until today!), which is bathed in an eerie red glow, giving it that ‘would you like a human sacrifice with your pint, sir?’ feel. As ever, our chum Mr Thorne Brewery is in, and he congratulates us on the new stadium. We tell him he should have a quiet word with the club to see if they’re going to need a beer supplier for the bars!
Waiting on Donny station, the cold wind is really slicing through us, though the train is nice and warm. I get a text fron Robert letting me know they’ve gone for a meal at the pub my parents visit every Saturday, and Katie is at it again, this time photographing a hen party. If Diamond resurfaces again, we’ll have to show him those, hen nights being one of his areas of special scientific interest.
It’s been quite a jolly day, all things considered, but that’s still quite enough postponements for one season, thank you...