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...