The latter was good practice for tonite, our 3rd group game of the newly sponsored ‘Bristol Street Motors Trophy’. Catchy. Tho instead of Dire, Mitch Ward, Chris Morgan, we had…well, about 9 players I’d never heard of, with Luca Connell in midfield and Cosgrove up top. It was literally men v boys, as our juniors rocked up to get a pasting off the big men. At one point, I looked at our front 4 and I swear they weighed less than their back 3 (who were huge, it has to be said). Was it their 4th goal, where one player bulldozes his way through 2 pussycats masquerading as centre halves? We were soft all over the pitch and I’ll go so far as to say that not one of these juniors will be playing for the Reds in 2 years time. I tell you how bad it was – Barry Cotter came on after 62 minutes and looked the best player on the park. At centre forward. Great 20 odd yard strike too (at five nowt down) which Hicksy missed cos he was taking a pic of the scoreboard.
He’d have missed the opener too, had I not told him to look around as we entered the stadium. The ball was curling in from the right, asking to be headed in. ‘Get in!’ my compadre exclaimed, pumping his fist…before realising it was the opposition. ‘Why’d you tell me to look round if it’s not us?’ The game is 2 minutes old. 15 minutes later and Andy Cook bangs in a low one from the edge of the area. I’d swear it was next to the keeper (a bloke who was relegated out of the EFL last season). Oh well, it’ll give me something to say to Andy’s mum next time I’m in Ferryhill Co-op. Not long after the half hour, it’s 3-0 and the game is up. How many will they get? Shepherd, favourite to get to the ball, slows up, allows his opponent to get there first, then stands bamboozled as said player rifles it in from an angle. Pontefract Colliery we signed him from. It shows.
Half-time entertainment is brought to you by the hospitality industry, as I stand enthralled through a conversation about beer pipes at Houghton Main Sports Club. (@Hicksy...I know that’ll come across as sarcasm, but I really did enjoy the conversation; it’s a window into another world for me.) I still have no idea where Houghton Main is, but I know it sometimes gets a mention in the Chron playing the likes of Dodworth in some County League or other.
Second half, we enjoy a period of nothingness, before the manager hauls Connell and Cosgrove (presumably with Satdy in mind). 4 mins later we have conceded 2 and they’re up to 5. Did I tell you how bad it was? Some bloke called Oduor (remember him!?) scores. My God. Has the Earth stopped rotating on its axis? The last 25, we’re arguably the better team. A couple of even younger players come on and they actually run about, while Cotter dominates the forward line. One of these kids misses a sitter, somehow hitting the keeper from 6 yards. That memory will die with him, cos he’s not gonna get a better chance to score for the Reds. Never. But they still drag one wide with the keeper to beat. I can handle five, six is another matter. Still, it’s a dead rubber, both qualify, it doesn’t matter...*
*Nozzer told me the winners get home advantage next round, so it DID matter. Our line-up and performance said something else.
Onwards and upwards!
*** Cotter. Get him up front!
** Atkinson. Best of the rest.
* Ackroyd. Came on, ran about.
Londontykes’ POTY: 1. Cotter 2. Atkinson 3. Ackroyd
Despatches:
DO NOT drive into Bradford. Least not till the end of 2024 (so the signs told me, once I was firmly ensconced in traffic). The city centre is being ripped up and it is a NIGHTMARE. So much for parking up in the centre and finding the others in North Parade. I’d had enough…then accidentally parked over the road from possibly Bradford’s finest pub, the Boar and Fable (4.8 on Google!) My mood instantly improved. It didn’t last.
The players? I was kidding about only knowing Connell and Cosgrove. We had Aiden Marsh up top. Useless. And wasn’t it good to see Conor McCarthy, back after a year out with injury? No. O’Keefe? Yes, he was there. I noticed Yoganathan, but that’s cos he’s of Sri Lankan descent and 6 foot odd of string. Atkinson impressed, twice...our only shot on target 1st half (a 20 yarder with power, tho easily saved) and a beautiful bit of skill to set the left wing back away. Oh yeah, Dodgson played. I found out last week he’s not even one of our own. The manager likes to drop Cadden to give a Burnley yoof gametime. Brilliant. Rightfully booked for a cynical trip on the halfway line. Pontefract Colliery’s Jack Shepherd also got himself brainlessly sent off in injury time, at 5-1 down, by hauling back a striker who’d be clean through. Such footballing intelligence gives him half a chance at Oakwell. ‘But it shows he cares’ I said to no-one looking for an argument. He’s rubbish.
Roll on Satdy.
Drink du jour: Vocation Vanishing Point. Very nice, and wants to be at 6 quid a pint. Still, it HAD come all the way from Hebden Bridge…
Away: 603. I think they claimed the attendance was 1,700. Never. There were as many Reds fans as Bradford.
The Damage:
£7 ent (inc £2 p&p)
£1 parking
= £8
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