My first mission was to bag a ticket. For such a high profile fixture, there’d be no tickets on the day, a sign of the festering ill-feeling between these two sides since Darlo’s reformation in the Northern League. 3 promotions later, you’d think both sides would be in a happier place. Durham Constabulary were here in double figures tonite (ok, I counted ten). Thus, inbetween ‘duties’ of my own (dropping stuff off at the charity shop, buying porridge at Asda) I called in at the social club within the Brewery Field to purchase my ticket. ‘Do you have any proof of address?’ Eh? ‘No……well, I do, I have my driver’s licence, which shows my previous address in London. But you can test me on the streets of Ferryhill (next door to Spenny). Not Spenny though, I don’t know Spenny too well.’ ‘’Oh, ok. Just checking you’re not a Darlo fan.’ I’d have thought they’d be grateful for the custom either way.
I parked up at the back of the town hall and enjoyed a walk to the ground. There were few people in the (still cold) streets. Would there be anybody at the ground? Although 20 minutes early, it seemed most fans were already in, certainly in the away ‘end’, an open terrace which runs the length of the far touchline, interrupted by a gantry for the TV camera. Programme purchased, I nipped into the social club for a quick beer. Alongside the drudge of Carling and Coors they had some craft ales in cans. I’ll take one. Well, it was that or WKD Blue mixed with Caffreys, a round of which was being purchased at the adjacent till.
Wolfing my drink down while watching a bit of the darts on the big screen, I ventured out to find a spot. Behind the goal is a small covered terrace, with a propped roof. I figured it’d be nice and cosy in there, and it was till a young lad started talking to me in a broad Yorkshire accent. Spenny fell behind to two early goals and were, to all intent, out of it. My new mate was slating them good and proper. ‘They don’t care. There’s no passion. They’re not trying.’ Turned out he was one of their latest signings, albeit cup-tied tonite. ‘I’d have smashed him there’ he cheerfully pointed out as Darlo forward Hazel turned the defender before finding the opposite corner for the 2nd. Anyway, I hope this new lad is as good as he thinks he is. He’s certainly not short of confidence, for a player sent out on loan.
The first goal came from a half volleyed scoop over the top of the cumbersome centre half and midfielder Lambert got there ahead of the defender to lift it over the keeper. Quality ball, quality finish. So obviously a row broke out to my life over whose fault it was. It’s ok saying the keeper was in no-mans land, but when the defender should’ve been favourite for the ball and came second…..well. The second was as sweet a move as you’re likely to see, as Darlo passed their way through Spenny, starting from their own half, before the ball was driven home from the edge of the box. No wonder the players milked the celebrations, incurring the ire of the home fans. 14 minutes in and the game looked as good as over. Darlington were different class, not that my mate agreed. ‘But there’s a reason they’re top of the league and Spenny are 19th’ I told him.
By half an hour in, the game was up. This time it did look a comedy of errors. A deflected shot drops to the edge of the area, where the keeper runs out to his favourite position (no-man’s land). Only this time the defender gets a leg to it first, looping the ball to the left of the box where Hazel volleys a bobbler towards goal which a defender hoofs into the roof of the net. We are 29 minutes in and local honours are decided. It becomes a case of ‘how many?’ until Darlo take the foot off the gas second half and allow a consolation, the striker nicking ahead of a defender and toe poking it past a wrong-footed keeper.
By now I’m chatting to a Boro fan whose been dragged along by his young son. ‘We have Wigan at home, then Blackburn away on the 29th’. ‘Wrong way round’ interjects another fan. ‘No it isn’t.’ ‘Yes it is, I know, I’ve got tickets.’ Turns out our interloper is a Sunderland fan and they’re both right. I ask the latter where Spenny got this Ramshaw from, up front. ‘He’s always been here. Been here years. He’s shite.’ Ten seconds later he’s named MOTM. He WAS shite, mind. One goal in 20 this season.
The Damage:
£15 ent
£2.50 programme
£3.80 can of wheat beer (440ml)
= £21.30
The Tunes:
Octopus (Bees)
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