Going Downhill Fast

When people picture groups of football fans gathering at a station ready for the day ahead, I’m sure they don’t think of a posse of nice, respectable-looking women. But that’s how today’s trip begins. Jenny, Joy, Frances, Julia and I are getting on the Aldershot train at Waterloo and the Kirklands, Chris Turner and Clarkey are joining us at Clapham Junction. Except when the men get on, Clarkey isn’t with them as he’s decided to get a later train. Never mind the fact we’ve arranged our itinerary today to reflect the fact Clarkey wanted to go drinking in the White Lion.

Still, the pub is as pleasant as ever when we get there, and their food menu has been beefed up (no pun intended) with the addition of burgers, bacon rolls and ham and cheese baps. Julia is joined by a Norwegian friend, Kjell, who, like so many Scandinavians, has a string of alliances to English clubs – in his case, Arsenal and Hartlepool (who’ve been owned by Norwegians for several years now) as well as the Millers. Over the years, he’s become a real ale drinker, and is keen to sample and detail as many different ones as he can on his trips over to the UK, but I’m sure he’s slightly thrown by drinking a pint of FFF’s Pressed Rat And Warthog. He can also forget about the level of today’s game being anything like Arsenal v Barcelona, which is the game he attended in mid-week. Although Alf and Lionel Messi are pretty much the same height and build...

Clarkey eventually turns up, as does my brother, who’s parked his car at the other pub we’d planned to visit, the Royal Staff. The rest of the LMs form the advance party to the Royal Staff, while I wait with Robert and Clarkey till they’ve supped up, then we follow on. The pub is nice and close to the away end, but there aren’t too many Rotherham fans in when we get there – there’s another pub even closer and they’re probably all in there. We catch the end of the Yeovil/Leeds game (with most people sneakily hoping Leeds will lose..), then head for the ground.

We hitch the flag to a crash barrier, where we’re joined by Mick Walker, looking very smug because it’s taken him less than forty minutes to drive from home to the ground. It’s a beautiful day by now, and Rotherham get off to a really promising start. We have David Wickes lookalike Kevin Friend refereeing, and for once we seem to be getting our share of decisions. Aldershot’s military-style drummer is nowhere to be heard, and we suspect he’s been called up since our last visit! For the first ten minutes or so we’re all over Aldershot, who are playing down the slope in the first half, until there’s some kind of mix-up between Mills and Gunning which lets Marvin Morgan break away to score.

Still, it looks as though we’re certain to get back in the game. Josh Walker finds himself clear on goal, but instead of shooting himself he squares it for Craig McAllister and the pass is cut out. Then Alf’s curling shot hits the bar, but there’s plenty of time to turn it round when we have the advantage of the slope in the second half.

At half-time, there’s a ‘crossbar challenge’ game between a Shots fan and a Rotherham fan, but neither of them manages to hit the bar (perhaps Alf should show them how it’s done?). The subs are having their usual kick-around: for some reason Drewe Broughton has got a teeshirt tucked down the back of his tracksuit bottoms, giving him a half-man, half-horse appearance. ‘Now I know what they mean by pin the tail on the donkey,’ my brother comments.

Just like the first half, we start the second much the better team. Alf has a shot in the first minute which the keeper somehow gets to. It’s the first of two or three good saves he has to make to keep Aldershot ahead. Again, they score against the run of play. Their strikers give every impression of being chosen for their sprinting ability ahead of any football skills, and their second comes when Morgan outpaces Pablo and shoots under Warrington. Sharps has to come off for some reason, Ronnie already having replaced Marshall, who’s had a decent game, and McAllister with Ellison and Pope, and is replaced by Broughton (now minus tail...). We’re still chasing the game, and Aldershot get the opportunity to add a very flattering third goal. The result hauls them up to just a point behind us, but Bury and Chesterfield are still doing their best to implode, too, so it’s not the disaster it otherwise might have been.

Back in the Royal Staff, we spot Martin Burton and his son, Arthur, who’s looking forward to being the mascot in a couple of weeks. He’s now convinced we’re going to meet Aldershot in the play-offs and it’s all going to end horribly. However, a couple of Shots fans come to chat with us and it’s clear they feel they were lucky today. ‘If it was a fight, you’d have beaten us on points,’ one says.

Clarkey and Chris T have gone to make an evening of it in Farnham, and my brother heads back to Gloucestershire. On Aldershot station, Julia spots Les Payne, the Sheffield Star’s Rotherham correspondent, and goes to have a chat with him. He tells her his report will reflect the fact it wasn’t a three-nil game.

We’re a little subdued on the way back to London, even though Joy offers us a swig from her trusty hip flask to cheer us up. Indeed, Chris K actually falls asleep, which is the quiestest he’s been all day.

People have work tomorrow, so we go our separate ways at Waterloo. I travel with Joy and Frances as far as Limehouse, where they have to throw themselves on the mercies of the C2C service. With no one planning to go to Morecambe next weekend, the next trip is the biggie – the sponsored game against Chelters...