Yay! The snow that denied us the – er – privilege of paying a daft amount of money to sit on scaffolding at the Priestfield last week has thawed enough that today’s game is on. And double yay! It’s our Christmas party trip. Though maybe someone should have a word with the fixture compilers, because two seasons ago, when the party trip took place but the match didn’t, we were supposed to play Aldershot.
Turning up with assorted goodies are Clarkey (so early for once we’re worried he might be ill...), Jenny (back from holiday in Cuba and surprisingly un-jetlagged), Tim, Ian Armitage, Chris Turner (fulfilling his sausage commitment, unlike the Hereford trip at the end of last season), Julia and me. We’re in the mood to eat, drink and be merry, which isn’t the greatest news for the girl with the other reserved seat on our table, but was out till stupid o’clock at a party last night and is hoping for a bit of shut-eye on the way to Sheffield. She does, however, revive enough to show us photos on her phone of how deep the snow was when she made the same journey this time last week, though we can't quite tempt her to indulge in the hair of the dog.
Chris hasn’t just brought things on sticks, he’s got Ploughman’s Lunches for us all, and he’s obviously been practising his party trick because he actually catches one of the onions in his mouth at the first attempt!
Our destination once we reach Sheffield is the Harlequin. At Tim’s insistence, we get cabs to cut down on inroads into our VDT (Valuable Drinking Time). I can’t resist a glass of the seasonal mulled cider. When it arrives, the boys take photos of it steaming gently, like a bald-headed player on a cold Tuesday night at Brisbane Road... We’re joined by Tim’s mate Andy, Joy, Frances, Phil Kyte, Chris Kirkland and, eventually, Chris Burrows, to whom Chris K has given instructions involving taking the tram to Shalesmoor and doubling back.
It would be tempting to stay in the Harlequin till it’s time to leave for the match, but this being the Christmas trip we’re determined to fit in at least one more venue. The Kelham Island is likely to be heaving with Wendies, particularly as they’re apparently going to turn out in force to welcome their ‘saviour’, new chairman Milan Mandaric. We go instead to the Fat Cat where yet another Ian (Hill, this time) joins the party. It isn’t compulsory to be called Ian, Steve, Chris or Rob to be a London Miller, but sometimes it feels that way! Despite everything we had to eat on the train, Chris T still finds room for a generous helping of steak pie and all the trimmings. The boys are intending to fit in a quickie in the Wellington (now brewing its own beer, according to Ted and Chris T, who had a crawl in Sheffield a couple of Saturdays ago), but Jenny and I are on flag duty, so we make a prompt exit. Which is when the fun starts.
The tram’s a couple of minutes late arriving, which isn’t unusual on a busy Saturday, but it makes it as far as the top of West Street, then comes to a halt. Eventually, the driver announces it’s due to football fans misbehaving ‘because they’re morons’. Quite what this misbehaviour involves isn’t clear, but as we approach the West Street stop veeeery slowly, there are plenty of police cars, vans, policemen and dogs in sight. Once we’re past the trouble, our progress is fairly swift, but there are trams backing up in the opposite direction and I have no idea how long it will take the boys to get to the DVS.
As it is, we go through the turnstiles at about a minute to three, and we’re still putting the flag up as the game kicks off. Unlike at Crewe the other week, this doesn’t prompt an early goal. There are a number of changes to the team – Ryan Cresswell has got over his back problems and returns to the back four, Johnny Mullins switches to right-back (Danny Coid, we find out later, has a slight hamstring strain). Tom Newey’s back, Jason Taylor’s in midfield and Will Atkinson, on loan from Hull, is on the wing in place of Kevin Ellison. Indeed, there’s a familiar-looking bloke in the scouts and hangers-on area in a Hull jacket, obviously there to report on Atkinson’s performance.
The first half is pretty even. Aldershot give the impression of having come not to lose, and we’re guilty of punting a few too many long balls forward as we try to bypass the packed midfield. The Shots have one good chance that forces an excellent save from Don (also returning after his paternity leave), then get a penalty when Atkinson clips Wade Small in the box. If they convert this they’ll probably spend the rest of the game stifling our attempts to equalise. However, Small decides to be a bit flamboyant with the penalty kick and succeeds in hitting the post. Miller Bear, continuing to prove he’s as mad as a bag of rats, celebrates by lying in one of the piles of snow they’ve cleared off the pitch and throwing snowballs into the air.
This is our let-off, and we capitalise on it thanks to a better bit of refereeing. Mullins is brought down, but the ref plays the advantage despite his assistant’s frantic flagging. Marcus Marshall wriggles to the byline and plays the ball across to Alfie, who fires his shot up into the roof of the net. Steve Kay, one of those London Millers who’s returned to the north for work (and see what I mean about the Christian name thing?) is in a seat just in front of me today, but he missed the goal as he was out on the concourse. It sounds just as good when I describe it as it did watching.
At half-time, the Millerettes do their routine in Santa hats, then hold up cards spelling out the message ‘Merry Christmas From The Millerettes’. ‘Stop trying to look up my skirt’ might be more appropriate... The 50-50 draw is performed by former Rotherham and Darlo manager Billy McEwan. Just reading that sentence will make a little bit of Ted die inside.
The second half is much better entertainment than the first. We’re buoyed by the goal and force Shots keeper Jamie Young to make a couple of excellent saves. Indeed, though he nearly gifts us a comedy goal when he muffs a clearance on the edge of his area and Alfie only just fails to convert the shot after the ball’s landed right at his feet, Young really is their star performer this afternoon, and keeps the score at one-nil long enough for Aldershot to think they have a chance of getting something from the game.
There’s a very nasty moment as Ryan Cresswell and Marvin Morgan tussle for the ball. Morgan hauls Cresswell down, and it’s obvious something bad’s happened as soon as Cresswell lands. The stretcher is called for. The Block 4 wags have been in good voice today (their crowning moment is a chorus of ‘All I Want For Christmas Is To Keep Alfie’, to the tune of ‘All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth’) but now the chief wag comes into his own. As the stretcher bearers take to the pitch painfully slowly, he yells, ‘Hurry up, he’s dying,’ followed, as they don’t speed up in the slightest by, ‘Too late, he’s dead.’ Cresswell is eventually stretchered off to a standing ovation, but he’s going to be out for a while.
On a more positive note, Atkinson has looked more of a threat as the game has gone on, and Marcus Marshall is causing so many problems for the Aldershot defence that Jamie Vincent earns himself a second yellow card trying to stop him before he can get a cross in. There’s only a couple of minutes of normal time for them to hold out, but even with the ref adding six minutes, mostly for the delay in getting Cresswell off the pitch, we can’t score a second goal.
The trams are behaving themselves, even if the one we get on is pretty packed. We’re now minus Julia, who’s staying in Rotherham for the weekend. In the Old Queen’s Head we find Chris K’s chum, Tom, who’s been lured down by the fact they’re showing the Newcastle-Liverpool game. The last thing you want to see when you walk into a pub is Alan Pardew’s smug, grinning face on the big screen, but such is life...
We’re still in party mood on the train back, although we do worry we might have left Clarkey behind after he goes into the M&S on Sheffield station and doesn’t appear to come out. He joins us eventually, though, as does Ian Hill, who’s travelling as far as Derby. Also on the train are Martin Burton and his two lads, so we give them some parkin and a couple of the crackers Jenny brought along so they can have a little party of their own.
People have seemed chatty today. A girl sits with us between Derby and Leicester and tells us about the work Christmas do she’s off to. We wish her a good time as she disembarks. Then Clarkey has his usual snooze and the rest of us keep the party going until St Pancras. We’d almost forgotten how good the Christmas trip is when you actually win!
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