Making A Weekend Of It

Today I’m doing something I don’t think I’ve ever done before, and that’s travelling south to watch a home game. Ted and I having a nice weekend in York, along with a selection of his fellow DAFTS and wives/partners. We’re staying in Bishops Hotel, owned and run by former Darlo legend (according to the boys...) Marco Gabbiadini. After a hearty breakfast, the chaps head for Darlo for their game against Hayes & Yeading while I go down to Sheffield. Everyone else will probably wander into York for a spot of retail therapy and possibly a trip to Betty’s tea room (well, that’s what I’d do, given the choice).
Jenny and Steve Ducker arrive on the good old ‘TCB Miller, MBE’, which has to be an omen. They’ve had a text to say Phil Kyte is running late, so he won’t be joining us in the Fat Cat. Steve has reserved his first ‘Derek Holmes, world’s slowest footballer’ until he reaches Sheffield, because he knows how much I’ll appreciate it. Poor old Derek – scored a hat-trick for us against Lincoln from a combined total of three yards out and this is how we repay him!
Outside the DVS, we spot Martyn Tait, who I haven’t seen in absolutely yonks. He’s having a dilemma – he’s got his wife, who’d probably rather poke her eyes out with rusty forks than watch a football game, sitting in the car, and he doesn’t know whether to actually go inside the stadium instead. We advise him to point her in the direction of Meadowhall, but he’s still dithering as Jenny and I go inside.
There have been a lot of comments from pundits about the standard of League 2 football so far this season, and how it seems more clubs than ever want to get the ball down and play. After comng up against two of those teams in the past couple of weeks, Chesterfield and Bury, we now welcome what look set to be one of the spoilers of the division, Stevenage. I could vent for quite a while on the subject of their self-promoting owner/manager, Graham Westley, and I’m sure I’m not the only one. Let’s just say one day he’ll work his way on to a list of those people who are rather too pleased with themselves, while his team are a bunch of big units who are mostly strung across midfield, more concerned for the most part with not conceding rather than creating too much. When the goalkeeper is timewasting after about twenty-five minutes, you know what you’re in for. We always have problems breaking down sides like this – whether it’s a lack of guile on our part I don’t know, but teams can bully us without actually being dirty. It’s so dull the ‘Booooook him!’ man and his chums in Block 4 Upper are reduced to chanting about the steward who looks like Rafa Benitez (which is funny because it’s true). That said, we take the lead on half time, when Alf plays the ball into the path of Nicky Law, who lashes it into the roof of the net.
The half-time Mayday draw is performed by Ryan Cresswell and the Mayor of Rotherham, who keeps taking the opportunity to give him a reassuring pat. Maybe she’s consoling him over his recent bereavement, or maybe she’s just having a sneaky feel of his biceps...
The second half is just as uninspiring as the first. We have the ball in the net again, but the ref rules out Fenton’s effort, presumably for pushing. Shortly after that, Fenton pulls up with an injury and has to be replaced by Dean Holden. Stevenage get more adventurous, but we keep them at bay until a combination of Don and the defence block an initial shot and the rebound is squared to John Mousinho, who celebrates his goal with some stupid galloping horse celebration he’ll no doubt be explaining on Saturday’s Soccer AM (and why does no one ever say, ‘I only did it because I wanted to be on Soccer AM?’).
Ronnie takes off Bradley and Pope and brings on Harrison and Ryan Taylor, gradually coming back from the pre-season injury that at one stage threatened to keep him out till Christmas. Stevenage think they’ve scored again, but the flag goes straight up for offside. Westley whinges about this after the game, but we could say exactly the same about our disallowed goal.
After the game, I travel back to Sheffield station with the Chrises, Kirland and Burrows. We leave Steve waiting for Jenny at the tram stop. The boys are off to meet Tom in the Old Queen’s Head, but I decline to join them as I’m straight back to York. The train takes me through Wakefield and Leeds, where I’m amazed at the number of Wednesday fans who get off.
Back in York, I meet up with Ted and co, fresh from their one-nil reverse to Hayes & Yeading and mulling over rumours that their manager, Mark Cooper, resigned during the game. Thankfully for them, these turn out to be false. On the way for an excellent meal in the Lime House restaurant, we bump into Gabbiadini and his wife, who’ve been at York Races. Drink may have been involved. We’re sure he’ll be feeling no ill-effects when he checks us out of the hotel tomorrow morning...