‘Hot tubs for Oakwell!’
You f***ing Reds! What a game, what a team. Rumours of our demise have been greatly exaggerated. So what if Villa want Hourihane and Bree? So what if Burnley want Roberts? So what if you can argue a case for Davies, McDonald, Scowen or Watkins leaving? So what if Sammy Winnall (Winnowt, courtesy of Redfearns) has signed for adorable local pub side ‘Sheffield Wednesday’ (ridiculous name)?
Tonite it’s the turn of Dirty Leeds. And my first wonderment is in the kick off time. Every year (seemingly) we’re forced to play against Washday or the Blunts at HOME, it’s virtually a midday KO. So against DL, live on STV (Sky, rather than Scottish, Television) it’s 17:30. Enough time for both sides to get outrageously drunk and up for a fight. We arrive early to Barnsley and take up the offer of meat and potato pie and mushy peas (with sides of onion and gravy, as opposed to onion gravy) at Chez Jones. I bet they regret the offer of last week. For future invitations, you can’t go too far wrong if you offer me pie and peas, followed by rhubarb and custard (nana na naaaa, nana na naaaaa, na na na na naaaaa). Just saying. (FYI, that was meant to be the tune to kids TV show Rhubarb and Custard.)
After weeks of speculation, my mate lets me down and I have a spare train and season ticket. So, after telling one interested party to f*** off, it's taken (I was more polite than that, but I might as well have done), what could be simpler than 'Meet me outside the club shop between 17:15-17:20 for a half five kick off?' Well, obviously, it’s too much for one Reds fan, whose perspective on where to meet involves the steps outside Redfearns. I realise this is all my fault: ‘outside the club shop’ involves 99.999999999999999% of the known universe. But I am majorly annoyed, given I had to tell someone else the ST was taken. Needless to say, I am doing nowt ever again for the tw*t who let me down. He has f***ing annoyed me enough and thus why I am putting it in writing.
So I had the pleasure of sitting in the Ponty myself. The advantages of not having to sit in the East lower, courtesy of an immobile father, suited me fine (though he was mobile enough to write his car off in the fog, so he’s stranded in County Durham till he buys a new car). Master Jones invited me to sit with him, meaning I was in the right hand side (looking at the pitch) where the atmosphere is - as opposed to those on the left who sit on their hands moaning at Hammill not scoring every 5 minutes (you know who you are). It was buzzing.
And after half an hour or so of relative pressure from us…we get done on the break. Having survived a 3 on 2, we breathe the sigh of relief of a corner, only for ex-Reds loanee Chris Wood to bundle home from the resultant cross. Howthehell do you let a big burly bloke with c18 goals this season, trundle one in off his shin? Well, McDonald’s failure to mark and our (Heckingbottom’s?) unwillingness to stick a man on the post were big parts. Poor, Barnsley, very poor.
This is the cue for all hell to break loose. I ‘m not quite sure myself how many fights suddenly broke out (Dirty Leeds in our ends) but while I’m intrigued by passion breaking out in the East Lower, a furore climbs up our own steps; some well built teenager is getting tw*tted from all angles as he staggers up towards the exit. Thank God (for him) that A. Jones, schoolteacher, hardman, profferer of fair play, steps in between the punches to literally drag this kid up 10 steps and out the exit, for his own safety. While stewards stand around wondering why they’re being paid, Andy tells a couple of them to pack this kid out of the ground before he’s taught exactly why a Dirty Leeds fan shouldn’t be in the Ponty.
In the East Lower (Ponty End) a larger fight is breaking out, while Idiot Corner (away end/East Lower) waits for us to score before it kicks off. Loko has missed a treat again. (FYI, Andy is rightfully more p***ed off about the effect this has on one young girl whose father takes her out, in tears.) I’m of different stock and of a different era and I don’t have kids; I remember the blood on the streets of Barnsley when Newcastle visited in 81/82 and I do remember shouting abuse at them even then (if you want to picture it, I must have been somewhere near Benj Harrals, while they were on the opposite side. God, I hate ‘em.) But I know Andy is right. This is deplorable. But I’m torn. Let’s imagine this kid has a right to see a football match. He still needs to know better than to be supporting DL from the Ponty. And no he wasn’t ‘disabled’ as someone thought. He was all over the place cos of the punches raining down on him. I’ve been in the home end at Swillsborough. And Burnley. And Sunderland. And Huddersfield. That could have been any one of us. I don’t know how he got that far up the steps, but well done Andy, who was on the end of the row, and could make that difference. |
| Heaven is but a few steps away... |
You f***ing Reds! What a game, what a team. Rumours of our demise have been greatly exaggerated. So what if Villa want Hourihane and Bree? So what if Burnley want Roberts? So what if you can argue a case for Davies, McDonald, Scowen or Watkins leaving? So what if Sammy Winnall (Winnowt, courtesy of Redfearns) has signed for adorable local pub side ‘Sheffield Wednesday’ (ridiculous name)?
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| Super Sammy Winnowt. Dead to us. |
Tonite it’s the turn of Dirty Leeds. And my first wonderment is in the kick off time. Every year (seemingly) we’re forced to play against Washday or the Blunts at HOME, it’s virtually a midday KO. So against DL, live on STV (Sky, rather than Scottish, Television) it’s 17:30. Enough time for both sides to get outrageously drunk and up for a fight. We arrive early to Barnsley and take up the offer of meat and potato pie and mushy peas (with sides of onion and gravy, as opposed to onion gravy) at Chez Jones. I bet they regret the offer of last week. For future invitations, you can’t go too far wrong if you offer me pie and peas, followed by rhubarb and custard (nana na naaaa, nana na naaaaa, na na na na naaaaa). Just saying. (FYI, that was meant to be the tune to kids TV show Rhubarb and Custard.)
 |
| Those loveable huggables L**ds must be in town. |
After weeks of speculation, my mate lets me down and I have a spare train and season ticket. So, after telling one interested party to f*** off, it's taken (I was more polite than that, but I might as well have done), what could be simpler than 'Meet me outside the club shop between 17:15-17:20 for a half five kick off?' Well, obviously, it’s too much for one Reds fan, whose perspective on where to meet involves the steps outside Redfearns. I realise this is all my fault: ‘outside the club shop’ involves 99.999999999999999% of the known universe. But I am majorly annoyed, given I had to tell someone else the ST was taken. Needless to say, I am doing nowt ever again for the tw*t who let me down. He has f***ing annoyed me enough and thus why I am putting it in writing.
 |
| The teams come out. |
So I had the pleasure of sitting in the Ponty myself. The advantages of not having to sit in the East lower, courtesy of an immobile father, suited me fine (though he was mobile enough to write his car off in the fog, so he’s stranded in County Durham till he buys a new car). Master Jones invited me to sit with him, meaning I was in the right hand side (looking at the pitch) where the atmosphere is - as opposed to those on the left who sit on their hands moaning at Hammill not scoring every 5 minutes (you know who you are). It was buzzing.
 |
| Toby whips up the crowd. |
And after half an hour or so of relative pressure from us…we get done on the break. Having survived a 3 on 2, we breathe the sigh of relief of a corner, only for ex-Reds loanee Chris Wood to bundle home from the resultant cross. Howthehell do you let a big burly bloke with c18 goals this season, trundle one in off his shin? Well, McDonald’s failure to mark and our (Heckingbottom’s?) unwillingness to stick a man on the post were big parts. Poor, Barnsley, very poor.
 |
| The old Main Stand. |
This is the cue for all hell to break loose. I ‘m not quite sure myself how many fights suddenly broke out (Dirty Leeds in our ends) but while I’m intrigued by passion breaking out in the East Lower, a furore climbs up our own steps; some well built teenager is getting tw*tted from all angles as he staggers up towards the exit. Thank God (for him) that A. Jones, schoolteacher, hardman, profferer of fair play, steps in between the punches to literally drag this kid up 10 steps and out the exit, for his own safety. While stewards stand around wondering why they’re being paid, Andy tells a couple of them to pack this kid out of the ground before he’s taught exactly why a Dirty Leeds fan shouldn’t be in the Ponty.
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| Tempers flare in Idiot Corner. |
Oh yes, there was a match. DL push on and they nearly nick a second from another corner – the Everton loan guy this time standing on the line to clear (FYI: don’t listen to Waddington telling you it’s a waste of time having a man on the post). At 0-2 we would be facing MAJOR SH*T. So, as we contemplate hanging on for 0-1 at half time, up pops Bradshaw to nod in from an innocuous cross. (Winnall woulda scored two from that) We is very happy. We’d have been even happier had a McDonald header from a corner a minute later been on target, but one-all, half-time, mustn’t grumble. WE ARE IN THIS F***ING GAME.
2nd half, and we’re winning 3-1 B4 you knows it (I’m down with the kids). 3 mins in and a cross ball to the left and Armstrong turns his man and hits it early with his left across former England uselessness Rob Green. Only, no, it’s not Armstrong, it’s Kent. Christ, he’s been hiding that for 5 months. We try not to jump around and shout f*** off f*** off f*** off in the general direction of the away end. We fail.
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| We all love |
Another 5 ins or so and we have a free kick on the edge of the box. Houri-Houri-Houri-hane lines one up, before knocking a short one and curling a beauty into the top corner from 20 yards. Conor: your mission here is done. You may leave with our best wishes and good luck on your future endeavours (as long as it’s not with Washday or DL). It’s a corker. To think, I still remember THAT free kick at Swindon a year or 2 ago, bobbling out of the exit as we slumped to yet another 3rd division defeat. Respect.
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| What happened next? (Clue: it's a free kick from Hourihane.) |
We are in danger of running riot at this point and someone realises this is not good for TV. Leeds United are a major force in English football and really ought to be in the Premiership/Intergalactic Entrepreneurialship This Is All Ours League Two: a hopeful punt forward has one of theirs head the ball against Roberts. ‘Handball’ cry the away end. The ref is nigh on 40 yards away (I exaggerate: 35) but he can spot a deliberate attempt to stop a big team player scoring against Little Old Barnsley, from there. Penalty. It becomes farcical when one considers it’s a) not even in the box and b) we’re being reffed by a ‘Premiership Referee’ (Mike Dean). Wood slots again. I still hate him. (Wood.) Dean has allegedly been dropped to the Championship after some Premiership error or other. So what division will he be in next week? Conference North?
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| Penalty: C. Wood Assist: M. Dean |
(At this point in the report I went to the kitchen for food, only to find my two pockets full of what I presume were Quavers; this might be f***ing hilarious to my travelling colleagues, but I really am adverse to cheese, and probably even more so to cheese substitute, which smells even worse. Would you put meat in Selwood’s pocket (ooh-err)? Would you desecrate our Muslim contingent by stuffing their pockets with pigs’ trotters? You would? Ok, fair enough then. Morons.)
We have half a half to brazen this one out. And we manage it, with relative ease. OK, the highlights will show Roofe putting it wide on the back post. But they won’t show the break wot led to it: Kent beating 2 players before being tripped over, the ref turning around at the wrong moment to miss it, while the linesman is obviously under instruction not to give owt the ref doesn’t see (see earlier). Nor the drive into the box from Armstrong which was met by a body check, rather than tackle, for a fortnight running. Why is it not a foul if he’s small and quick? About the only one the ref got right was when one of ours (Scowen?) got lumped into the box and he gave a free kick on the edge. This isn’t the Premiership – it’s not where you LAND wot counts.
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| The Super Super Reds come to take their ovation. |
*** Hourihane. Whythehellnot? Official MOTM and a blinding free kick seems the perfect send off to me. Here’s to you, Conor Hourihane, Barnsley loves you more than you will know…
** Bree. Quick, take that 4 mill. Do we have some kind of right back factory line down at t’Well? (Stones,,,Holgate…
* Kent. Whythehellnot? Didn’t think he had it in him. Proved Hecky knows more than me and Andy combined. (‘Why’s he not starting with Hamill?’)
Londontykes' MOTM:
1. Hourihane
2. Scowen
3. Kent
Despatches:
Them pie and peas at the Joneses. I vote we change ALL our home kick offs to 5:30. Cracking food, more drinking time, a buzzing (midweek) atmosphere under the lights. Davies barely made a save, but kept his kicks on the pitch (why’s it always one or the other?). McDonald was solid apart from the 1st. Roberts was awesome, esp 2nd half. The Everton bloke came in at left back (as predicted pre-match by yours truly; Aidey White really hasn’t cut it upon his return). He was ace. ‘Hecky, sign him up’ etc. If only twas so simple! Scowen was tremendous, winning every 40-60. Bradshaw was a bit anonymous, till he scored (the new Winnall!) while Hamill came on to do what he does best: frustrate the opposition down by the corner flag when we’re winning.
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| The view from the Ponty. |
Drink du jour: wine and beer, oh dear. So red wine in Staincross (Mapplewell?) followed by wheat beer in the Old #7 and JD and coke on the way home. Rock and roll!!!!!
Away: 5,200. A sell out, but it seems DL can’t be trusted, they weren’t quite given the allocation The Mags were. Which says it all: less trusted than Newcastle fans.
We all hate Leeds scum, we all hate Leeds scum….etc
The Damage:
c40 train (inc earlier tickets we had to cancel cos match was re-arranged)5 taxi
2 fanzine
3.50 prog (ironically, after refusing to pay £3.50 at Fulham, I found myself buying a celebratory ‘Mr Barnsley’ one for same a week later.)
= c£50
Dear BFC
I know it’s only January, but I find it quite disheartening that I cannot purchase of a home shirt (size: medium) nor a pair of those stripey home socks. And don’t gimme sh*t that I’ve had all season to buy these things; I have never seen a home shirt in stock in the half dozen or so times I’ve bothered to look. So today I wore my ‘Pelada’. Only you won’t know what I’m on about cos you’re only in the here and now and have no idea about our history.
Yours
A. Potential-Consumer
The Tunes:
Dimension Intrusion (FUSE)
The Race for Space (Public Service Broadcasting)
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| Me and Jonesy snapped off t'telly. |
PS Little Lee Johnson. Ha ha ha ha ha haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. ‘Rebuilding phase’. My God you are such a crock of sh*t, Lee. And people fall for it.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/sport/football/38704934
"The Championship was never going to be easy - we are in a rebuilding phase.
"We spoke at the start of the season about history makers and it was supposed to be positive - not bad history.
"We've got to make sure we make history in positive ways and we can still do that this year. We need to fight our way back up the table. I believe that we can."
PMSL. Keep it up, Little |Lee, keep it up.
PMSL. Keep it up, Little |Lee, keep it up.
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