I Like The Pope, The Pope Likes The Slope

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Déjà Burton

It’s a jolly party consisting of Jenny, Joy, Clarkey and myself who make the trip up to Sheffield. Clarkey is buzzing as he’s been to see Muse (complete with Rotherham-supporting bass player, of course) at Wembley and is raving about how good they were. Having seen them play the same venue a couple of years ago, I have to agree. Still wouldn’t want them doing a U2 and knackering the pitch at the DVS, though...

In Sheffield, Clarkey goes off to meet his mum. We try to get him to persuade her to come out to the Fat Cat, but in the end they go somewhere in the city centre. Unlike Rotherham, even most of the ‘ordinary’ pub/eateries seem to have real ale available. The rest of us meet up with Mr Kyte, who’s seeking sponsors for a 100-mile bike ride he’s doing to raise money for a voluntary project in India. The things people will do to get out of watching us play Chesterfield! How does a pound per blister sound, Phil?

After the mayhem that was the Chelters game, I’m hoping for something a little more straightforward. I don’t get it. Within a minute, Kevin Ellison has scored from a free kick, though from our angle it seems like the keeper might have done better to keep it out. Have we peaked too early? Certainly, Burton respond well to going behind, but though they try loads of clever routines from corners and set pieces, Don has very little to save. They’re a team who are moulded very much in the style of their manager, Paul Peschisolido, who was a serial diver when he played against us – and a highly successful one, going by the amount of times he or his team scored from the free kicks and penalties he ‘won’. Burton haven’t quite mastered his dark arts, and if they stayed on their feet more, they might really be causing us some serious problems. As it is, we go further ahead, when an Exodus Geohaghon long throw is headed in by Ryan Cresswell. Even more improbably, we’re three-nil up at half time, this time from a lovely piece of interplay between Warney and Ellison is finished off by Alf. We can’t quite work out why we’re so far ahead, but we’ll take it.

And then the stadium announcer goes and opens his big mouth. It’s not Richard Lee but a stand-in, and when the half-time scores are read out, he can’t resist announcing that as things stand we only need one more goal to go top of the league. It’s just the kind of grandstanding that demands the gods of football step in and give us a shoeing for our arrogance.

Still, there are other things to distract us. The High Definition dance group are conspicuous by their absence, but the Millerettes are still shaking their tween stuff. More importantly, the schools six-a-side competition is back. Ah, real entertaiment!

Proving that what we could do in the first half, they can do in the second, Burton score in the first minute. Cresswell makes a sloppy pass back to Don, and Shaun Harrad intercepts and sticks it in the net. Despite this setback, we keep playing some decent football, even though Burton are getting a lot of possession. What really changes the game in their favour is the penalty decision. Alfie’s back in defence and when he dwells on the ball, he’s brought down by a Burton player. The ref (Mr Salisbury, whose name on the team sheet has always made my heart sink thanks to his displays) doesn’t do anything about that, but when plays goes and Johnny Mullins makes a desperate lunge to get the ball, he gives the penalty. Yes, it was a foul, but so was the one on Alf, so what’s the difference? For once, Don can’t save it, and now things are getting tight. That said, we still press forward when we can, and Danny Harrison has a long-range shot that’s only just wide of the post. But there’s an inevitability about the moment when Harrad slots home the equaliser. We've done exactly the same as we did against them here last season, except last time we only had the two-goal start. But if that means we'll have the same result against them at the Pirelli as we did last season, I'll take it.

On the balance of the play, a draw is probably the right result, but we weren’t three goals better than Burton in the first half and they weren’t three goals better than us in the second, and if the scoreline had fluctuated more, the result might be easier to take.

At the tram stop, we add Chris Burrows to our merry band, and head for the Sheffield Tap. When we get to Fitzalan Square, the heavens open, and we’re soaked by the time we reach the station. The pub is so busy there’s only room for three of us, so Clarkey and Chris do the honourable thing and wait outside till two others leave. Joy and Clarkey decide to take advantage of the fact the Tap does carry-out, treating themselves to a two-pint carton of Thornbridge Wild Swan to share on the train back to London. Until East Midlands Trains offer something more than the stuff that comes in cans with widgets, it’s the only civilized alternative. Well, that’s their story and they’re sticking to it...

An Evolutionary Tale

After last week's trip to Hereford the football league fixture computer has produced another trip to almost Wales. Once again due to the distance and difficult train journey from London there is going to be another poor London Millers turn out. Liz has decided to support Non-League Day and go with Ted to Eastbourne to see their match against Darlington so once again the blog is coming from Little bro. I received an e mail from Jenny letting me know that Dave Finnis, our Australian branch, who was the only other person interested in going to Shrewsbury had now been called back to Australia due to work commitments so in the end the turnout was just me.

Shrewsbury's new ground The Greenhaus Meadow, as it is known this season, is another example of why I'm so relieved we are building the new stadium at Guest and Chrimes in Rotherham town centre Shrewsbury have taken the opposite approach and sited their stadium in open countryside right on the edge of the town. The location of the ground and that fact that I'm not meeting up with anyone else in the town means that I have decided to drive. The decision to drive has an added advantage in that it means I can leave home a lot later then if I'd been going on the train so it means I can be around for the blind man who is visiting us. This is a man who fits blinds not a man who can't see as we've just had a new conservatory roof fitted and we are now having it measured for some new roof blinds.

The drive is fairly easy the M5 being fairly quiet the main holiday season being over. One of the fun things of driving around on a Saturday during the football season is spotting which other supporters are on the road. As there are no premier or championship games this week the usual hoards of Man U fans heading from Cornwall to Old Trafford are missing but I do pass a minibus declaring its self to be the "Bridport Glovers" I'm actually surprised that a town as small as Bridport can actual find enough Yeovil fans to fill a minibus. The journey takes a turn for the worst when just past West Bromwich I join the end of the queue for the M5/M6 junction it takes a slow twenty-minute crawl to get on to the M6 where the traffic flows freely again. I spend most of the queue stuck behind a van from "Elliot's" van hire which I take to be a potential omen although as Tom Elliott wasn't fit to play against Hereford it might not. As it turns out later Elliott does play – well, for 48 minutes anyway.

The Charles Darwin - creationists welcome?

Based on advice from the Internet Football Ground Guide I've decided to park at The Charles Darwin, a pub about 15 minutes walk from the ground. When I get there the car park is remarkably quiet but as the parking is free I'm not complaining. The pub is a typical estate pub that serves an acceptable pint of Banks's. The pub is named after Charles Darwin who was born in Shrewsbury. The pub slowly fills up with Shrewsbury fans who seem remarkably friendly to the few Rotherham fans although I do keep hearing a Basil Fawlty style voice in my head saying "Don't mention the Auto Windscreens Trophy!"

After a couple of pints it's time for a stroll to the ground. The referee today is our old friend Trevor Kettle who will always be remembered for an infamous game at Barnsley when he sent off three Rotherham players and gave Barnsley a goal that never crossed the line. However he did give us a penalty when he refereed us at Crewe last season so I'm prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt unlike a number of Rotherham fans who, as I enter the ground, are telling him exactly what they think of him as he warms up with the other officials.

Former Rotherham captain Ian Sharps, who moved to Shrewsbury in the summer and is now their captain, on the other hand, is given a polite round of applause as the teams are read out.

Shrewsbury start the match the more lively, running at the Rotherham defence and making them look worried. I have the feeling that it's going to be a long afternoon! Mr Kettle then demonstrates that he really is a poor referee when, in the first couple of minutes, Tom Newey goes down in the box with an obvious head injury he just waves play on fortunately Shrewsbury don't score while his is down but in the next attack Rotherham aren't so lucky. Johnny Mullins, who is making his first start at right back because Holden, on loan from Shrewsbury, is ineligible to play, lets Craig Disley get a cross in and Lionel Ainsworth is standing on his own in the middle of the box with an open goal he can't miss. One-nil. It's definitely going to be a long afternoon. Shrewsbury dominate the first half, helped by an ability to fall down very easily which Mr Kettle as falls for every time. However, they are unable to make the possession count and so it's still only a one goal advantage they have at half time.

The match turns early in the second half. After a couple of minutes Elliott has to go off with an injury and is replaced by Paul Warne. Suddenly Rotherham are a different side. Warney's energy seems to be contagious. Shrewsbury are under constant pressure for forty minutes as Rotherham attack after attack batters their goal. Warney is in the faces of the defence and allows Alfie to play a bit more Rooneyesque, slipping back in to the hole in front of midfield, and their defence just can’t cope with that, unable to mark him out of the game as they had tried in the first half. Unfortunately for Rotherham, Shrewsbury could have another potential Joe Hart on their hands as Chris Neal pulls of a string of fine saves, and on the one occasion that he is beaten the whistle has already gone for a foul on him. He also resorts to some serious time-wasting which goes unpunished. On the final whistle Shrewsbury celebrate as if they've already won the league. Just be warned, boys; look where Rotherham were this time last season!

The walk back to the car is a disappointed but not downhearted one. If Rotherham continue to play as they did in the second half then it could be another promising season. I text Liz to let her know what's gone on and get a reply that makes me think the spirit of Mr Kettle has been with her, as she has seen two sendings off and that she has been trying to put the spec on John Terry.

The pub car park is rapidly emptying as I get there and I don't stay to drown any sorrows. One advantage of the pub is it is on the right side of the ground to get an easy escape back to the motorway with not much traffic.

On the way home I listen to Five Live who are also covering Non-League Day on 6-0-6 and happen to mention that John Terry was at Eastbourne. Too late, BBC, you've been beaten to the news once again.

Confessions Of A Neutral Supporter Part Seven

Leaving my brother to enjoy the delights – or otherwise – of Shrewsbury, I’ve decided to join Ted and his Darlo cohorts for the trip to Eastbourne. While it might look as though I’ve jumped on the ‘Non-league Day’ bandwagon, I’d picked out this game, and Darlo’s visit to Cambridge on December 18th when we’re away at Torquay (cheers, fixture compilers!) when the Conference fixtures were first announced.
As you’d expect when Ted’s involved, it’s a ludicrously early start. He’s meeting his mate Tony at King’s Cross, then I’m joining them for breakfast at the Regency Café, just off Horseferry Road, at 8.30. What should be a very simple journey, thanks to engineering works, today involves a bus and three tube lines. However, a gentle stroll from St James’s Park tube, deliciously empty on a Saturday morning, and I’m at the café just as Ted and Tony come wandering up Regency Street. The place is a wonderful Fifties timewarp that appears to be run by someone who loves both boxing and Spurs, judging by the memorabilia on the white tiled walls, and it’s unlike anywhere else we’ve been for breakfast in that you place your order, then go and collect it from the counter when it’s ready, rather than having it brought to your table. The woman taking the orders is a demure-looking, softly spoken blonde, but when the food is done she announces it in the most amazing teak-veneered baritone. My ‘TWO EGG... TWO TOAST’ sets me up nicely for the day ahead, while Ted and Tony pile into bacon, tinned tomatoes, black pudding, eggs and lovely crispy chips (I get to sample a couple...).
When we arrive at Victoria, he entrance to the tube station has been taped off and there are fire engines on the forecourt, but fortunately the rail service isn’t affected. Ted’s Plymouth-supporting chum, Geoff, joins us. As far as I know, it’s the first time he’s seen Darlo play since the FA Cup tie at Barnet last season, but he’s more concerned with discussing Plymouth’s failed bid for Adam Le Fondre. (Money plus Rory Fallon was apparently offered. We’d still rather have Alf.)
The ranks of our party are swelled further at Gatwick Airport. John Bell has used his air miles to treat himself to a flight from Manchester which, even with airport check-ins, saves travelling time. None of us particularly knows this part of the world (apart from Lewes, where Darlo played a cup tie a few years ago, and where the Gardener’s Arms subsequently became DAFTS Pub of the Year), so we admire the spectacular scenery of the South Downs and the strange chalk cliffs that appear just beyond Lewes.

Geoff’s friend Andrew, who lives in Eastbourne, is waiting at the station, as is Brummie Tony, who’s followed Darlo for years despite having no connection to the area. The main rendezvous point for everyone else we’re seeing today is the Eagle, a five-minute walk away, but Ted hasn’t managed to find out when it opens. John goes on ahead, while we pop into the Wetherspoon near the station. When we get the news the Eagle is open (or has landed, or something), we finish up and leave – just as Steve Duffy is ordering a pint! He, along with Geoff and Andrew, will catch us up.
In the Eagle, the boys have the choice of pint jugs (which Ted thinks are just plain wrong) or straight glasses. The place is fairly quiet, MK Dons v Hartlepool on the TV in the corner not being the biggest draw in the world, but soon begins to fill up with more Darloids. Along with the stragglers from the Wetherspoon, we gradually gather up Alisdair, a university friend of Steve, who now lives and works in Eastbourne, Steve’s brother, Martin and their Villa-supporting crony Pat, who’s something in East Sussex CAMRA. Ian Swallwell brings along a friend who’s a Brighton fan. Brighton should be playing Plymouth today, but the game’s off due to international call-ups, even though Geoff claims Plymouth haven’t got that many international players. Finally, Colin and his wife, Gill, arrive from Nottingham. Colin is going to be today’s ‘expert summariser’ on the radio commentary alongside journo Ray Simpson, and he’s taking the task so seriously that he’s not drinking and has a sheaf of research notes that would put John Motson to shame.
Ted needs to set up his camera equipment in good time, so Ian gives him, me and Tony a lift to the ground. It’s about three miles out of the town centre, and we manage to take a wrong turn somewhere in the housing estate that surrounds the ground, but a bloke walking his dog gives us very accurate directions and we find it without further problems.
The Langney Sports Club, where Eastbourne Borough play, is tucked away in the middle of a quiet residential area. You don’t know the ground is there until you’re right on top of it. As we’re walking towards the turnstiles, a rabbit is hopping around on a little track that leads behind the neighbouring houses, and I’m able to get pretty close to it before it finally gets spooked. Certainly not something you see every day.
Once inside, we find ourselves in a ground made up of low, covered cinderblock terraces and a main stand that takes us about two-thirds of the main stand. Pretty much what you’d expect from an outfit who are still part-timers. We find a spot just by the corner flag. There’s no segregation, though most of the Darlo fans appear to be behind the far goal. Their ‘band’ is certainly there, making themselves heard – not so much Four Poofs And A Piano as Four Darloids And A Drum. There are also quite a few Brighton fans in evidence, and when the crowd is eventually announced, it’s over 1400.
Darlo are attacking towards us, and they start in pretty lively fashion. This close to the action, you can hear everything that’s being said, and Eastbourne’s No 3, Neil Jenkins, has a few choice (and unrepeatable words) for the referee and his assistant, who looks about 16, whenever a decision goes against him. When Jenkins goes through Darlo’s Gary Smith with a tackle, the ref barely hesitates before getting out his red card. We think the decision was harsh, but we can’t help thinking it may be as much for what Jenkins has said as the tackle. Things go from bad to potentially farcical for Eastbourne a couple of minutes later. Their keeper, Rikki Bull, who’s already misjudged the number of Ks a grown man should have in his name, misjudges the ball he’s collection and handles the ball outside the area. The referee has no choice this time, and Bull gets second use of the soap. He’s replaced in goal by midfielder Matt Smart, whose long hair and sharp features make him look like the runt of the Gareth Ainsworth litter. Living up to his name, though, he makes a smart save from the free-kick the Quakers are awarded for Bull’s offence. ‘We might just scrape a point from this one,’ a Darlo fan mutters to Tony as he goes past to the gents’.
By this time, the natives at the side of us are getting very restless, and a couple of the boys fancy a pre-emptive half-time burger, so we move round to the snack bar. That’s where we’re standing when Chris Senior scores for Darlo. The Eastbourne defence let the smallest man in the team get in a header which gives Smart no chance.
At half-time, I join Ted, who’s set up his camera position behind the far goal. He gets a message from his contact at the Northern Echo, asking if he can take some shots of John Terry, who’s here today watching his brother, Paul. As Ted wanders off to perform said chore, I wonder if I should send some spec in the direction of JT. So far, he’s seemed quite capable of putting the spec on himself, but I do it anyway from force of habit.
As the second half begins, Darlo look confident. Paul Terry is controlling the midfield, and Paul Arnison is putting in some great crosses from the right wing, but none of the resulting shots are really testing Smart. Ted has a bit of banter with Gary Smith, who last season had long enough hair to need a headband. Ted lets him know the new short style is a vast improvement with the confidence only a man who hasn’t had his hair cut for the last several years can.
Meanwhile, I’ve been roped in as camera roadie, as Ted switches from one to the other, depending on whether he’s taking close-ups or action shots. It’s called earning my keep...
A young seagull settles on the terrace just behind us, and stands there for a minute or so. Seems like all the wildlife round here is strangely confident!
Darlo boss Mark Cooper, standing in his shirtsleeves on the touchlines, makes a couple of substitutions, taking off Liam Hatch and Jamie Chandler and bringing on Josh Gray and Richard Offiong, the latter of whom once very nearly came to Rotherham on loan, but if anything it’s Eastbourne who are starting to look the stronger team. Smart makes a save and punches away a ball with the surety of a man who’s played in goal before. It reminds me of going to see Darlo play Brighton when they were based at the Priestfield. Darlo’s David Preece was sent off, Carl Shutt replaced him in goal and had an absolute blinder, only for it to emerge later that Shutty had kept goal regularly in his youth.
I disappear into the ladies’. As I emerge, Tom Hark is playing over the Tannoy, so Eastbourne must have scored. Ted lets me know that Darlo have somehow managed to give the smallest man on the opposition side a free header from a corner.
After that, Darlo press for another goal, but a combination of Smart and the Eastbourne defence keep them out. At the final whistle, Smart turns to sarcastically applaud the Darloids who’ve been giving him a bit of gip during the game, only to find they’re giving him a genuine ovation for his efforts.
That said, the mood as we walk back to the car is pretty downbeat, not helped when I find out we’ve lost one-nil to Shrewsbury. In the pub, I get a text from Robert, telling me exactly what he thinks of the Shrews and their ‘cheating, time-wasting’ tactics...
There’s time for a quick one back at the Eagle before Ted, Tony, Steve, Martin and I head for the station. Steve and Martin are off back to Brighton for a home-cooked dinner courtesy of Martin’s missus. Ted gets chatting to some bloke with a tripod who turns out to be a birdwatcher, while Martin tells us about the walks he’s been talking over the Downs. (So now you know what rock musicians do in their down time...)
We bid farewell to the Duffy brothers at Lewes. After a nicely uneventful journey, it’s back home to go for dinner with Tony, who’s claimed a bed for the night before his early train back to Darlo, at our favourite curry house. A nice end to non-league day.