Burton Albion 0-0 BFC, Saturday 16th April 2016

‘Wake me up before you go go’

Welcome to ....

I’ve gotta be honest, I don’t think I’m in the best position to be match reporting Satdy’s efforts (am I ever?)  I can barely remember owt that happened in the game and that wasn’t just cos barely owt happened in the game.  I could probably blame the early (for me) drinking start, but while everyone else was on real ale, I really should have looked at the alcohol content of that cider stuff, cos I was hammered.  I vaguely remember Dave Selwood was in the away end with us…but I can’t remember if he brought Maria.  That’s was my state.  As for the match, I believe we had a shot (Winnall running close from a corner) and that was about it.  I know when the ref blew for full time I was wondering where the time had gone.  After all, you’re not allowed to blow till there’d been some action, surely?

That pitch saw the Super Reds c.100 years ago

It all started so well/badly.  With the hostelries not opening till midday, (save for Wetherspoons), one advantage of having the BFC official historian in tow was a walk around Burton to the local rugby club to stare at a pitch which once hosted the Super Reds sometime a hundred years ago.  It was quite the pleasure too, with a stand which must be as old as ours, with clubhouse attached.  We even helped open it, carrying in supplies; the price to pay for Dave collaring a local.  (Un)fortunately we had other tykes to meet and retreated before we got suckered into watching the local eggchasers.

They don't make 'em like this anymore.

Then we descended on the Coopers Tavern.  Since there were a dozen of us waiting at 12 to get in, why doesn’t this place open earlier?  What about next season, when (if?) Burton are promoted?  Anyway, barrels of ale behind the bar and Carling lager on tap.  Make mine a cider.  And another one.  And another one, etc.  Call me a taxi.  ‘You’re a taxi’.  Got to ground, stood at the back of the terrace and chanted my heart off while nothing happened on the pitch.  It was great.  Never once did we look under threat, and barely once did we threaten.  0-0 written all over.  Still, problies a point won rather than 2 lost, as Millwa’ and Gills lost.  I reckon 10 points from our last 4 games and we’ll sneak into the play-offs.

The teams come out.

Now, I’m doing this from a very blurred memory, but I certainly remember saying I was impressed with Williams (again).  The others I’m gonna have to guess.  I s’pose a clean sheet counts for summat to the defence:

*** G Williams.  This week I shall mostly be our best play at LEFT back.

** Scowen.   Filled in at right back.  Shouldn’t grumble.

* Roberts.   Just because.

Londontykes' MOTM:
*** Roberts
** G Wiliams
* Scowen

Despatches:  None.  Did I tell you my memory’s shot?

Drink du jour: Cider, a cheeky Erdinger (on tap) in a pub on the way back to the town centre and whatever Lidl sold us.  Then Andy made me go to the Euston Tap (if you come into Euston, you have to…don’t you?) where we were accosted by a couple of ManUre fans for an hour or 2.  They seemed ok chaps, considering we obviously had no respect for their team.  Then I fell asleep on a bus and ended up in West Norwood (where?) 

Away: 1500.  Good atmosphere, standing on a terrace.  What’s not to like?  Hopefully we’ll be playing them again next year.  What division though?

Davies sets himself

Panorama from the corner

Main Stand (Reds to the left).

Match action (such as there was).

Pirelli panorama

Can there be a finer sight than the post-match perfectly poured Erdinger?

Main Stand after the match

after match panorama

BFC 1-2 Chesterfield, Saturday 9th April 2016

‘Linesman.  Yer can shove thi’ flag up thi’ arse’

Fri nite, Princess Louisa, Holborn.  Oddjob, no less.

Ever since our Wembley win I’ve been besieged by sniping comments from Londontykes past and present (mainly past) wondering how I could deal with positive.  How would I handle winning at Wembley? How would I cope with us getting promotion via the play-offs? How would I manage us being successful?  In a sentence: I don’t have to worry.  Yesterday, we well and truly ballsed it up.  We didn’t simply shoot ourselves in the foot, we went all Kurt Cobain.  If (when) we don’t make the play-offs, today was the day.  Suicide.  (As an aside, listen to Goldie Lookin’ Chain’s ‘Self Suicide’)

Committin' suicide to enhance my career

It worked for Mickey an' Tupac Shakir

Jesus was nailed up to some wood

2000 years later an' book sales are still good

I heard in a song suicide is painless
An' it's 80 percent sure to make you famous

Wankin' with a bag on yer head, tied to a door

That bloke from INXS, he knew the score

Like our play-off chances, Oakwell is over the hill (and far away).

They don’t make ‘em like that anymore.  Where was I?  Oh yes.  We have been beaten at home by a side in the bottom 6 with 10 men.  ‘But they only had 10 men for the last 10 minutes’ said a fellow traveller.  Yes, Chris was right – and it was one-all when JCR (the JCR!) got sent off at ones apiece.  We f***ed this up bigstyle.  No excuses.  Yes, the ref was s***, but he didn’t allow them to score 2 goals from 3 attacks (was it that many?) while their keeper had a blinder (and wasted time like a pro too).

Welcome to .....

We’d not long since equalised (our one bit of luck all day as Hamill’s 20 yarder looped over the keeper) when JCR went through Aidey White for a stone cold 2^nd yellow.  Stupid, given he’d been booked only a couple of minutes earlier (dissent?)  So that was him off and, presumably (hopefully) a continued siege on their goal. Actually, I worried Chesterfield would sit back and we would have our usual difficulty breaking down 10 men. Well, I was half right. Chesterfield broke up field, wide left. 3 (THREE) Reds stood off their left winger, allowed him to control the ball, turn, and run straight through them, getting a lucky deflection, but still, he earnt it….so he leaves those 3 behind, enters the box…where a defender (Roberts?) has to leave his man to close him down, leaving an easy pull back and tap-in.  The Ponty’s ‘You’re not singing anymore’ after Hamill’s effort is returned with interest from the away end.  Still 7 mins to go though.

The Corner Stand, from pitch level.

During those frantic last few minutes, we hit the post (Roberts), Hamill cut inside 3 or 4 of them and then his shot was cleared off the line…Winnall had one saved.  It wasn’t to be our day.  And while we had 2 decent penalty shouts (Selwood swears it was handball and those in the Ponty had the best view, as well as Toney being taken out at full pace) there was one refereeing decision which stood out for me. We were breaking from the halfway line, 3 on 3, when the ref blows.  I go apoplectic.  There’s no way it was a foul for us to win the ball.  Oh no, better than that.  He’s given the free kick to US and pulled play back cos their bloke is nursing a slight injury to his ankle.  No medical care needed, he got up, trotted back into position and we re-started with Chesterfield having 9 men behind the ball.  AND we had a Premiershit ref: Neil Swarbrick.  (He doesn’t seem to do that many games anymore; wonder why?)  

'Toby, Toby!'

The 1^st half was generally even, though Chesterfield had a header superbly saved by Davies and then missed the unmissable…3 yards out, generous low cross, I think he (Novak) fell over the ball.  Open goal.  Certainly the worst miss I’ve seen in a Reds game this season (including us).  Their fans were already celebrating as he missed.  I enjoyed that.  

Chesterfield did go ahead though 10 mins or so into the 2^nd half.  Hecky had dropped (rested?) George Williams at right back to give Bree a runout and, having been skinned twice in the 1^st half, a ball from his side is launched towards the back post where Novak gets inbetween Mawson and White to head it across Davies and in.  Think Oxford’s 1^st goal last week, but from the opposite side.  Oh well, we only have to score 2 now.

Looking toward the away end.

After a brief respite, we then threw the kitchen sink at them.  The keeper saved a powerful low shot from Toney; he saved superbly from a Winnall header (Hamill cross) at the back post; Isgrove had a shot deflected onto the post; Mawson headed a powerful effort over from a Roberts throw.  Other shots were blocked and, as I said, a couple of big penalty shouts were ignored.  This could easily have been 5 or 6….yet we lost, due to criminal defending, great goalkeeping, bad luck and poor refereeing.  Wembley (Mark II) may well be cancelled, but if we create as much as this in each game we could easily win what’s left of our matches.  

Panorama v Chesterfield

*** Roberts.  Won absolutely everything, inc. crucial interceptions.  Yes, he lumped the ball forward at times, but even that brought pressure with our forward 2.  Had to go off for 10 mins (stitches?) in the 1^st half.  Resolute.
** Winnall.  A tame effort at goal 1^st half, but otherwise coulda had a hatrick. Great movement, nice touches and did everything but score.  Shame, cos my line about ‘form is temporary, lack of class is permanent’ was made a little redundant, as he had a great game bar scoring.  Oh.
* Mawson.   The ying to Roberts’ yang.  How do we concede when one wins everything and the other manages to play the ball out of defence?  Twitter MOTM.

Londontykes MOTM:
*** Roberts
** Mawson
* Hamill / Winnall

Half time entertainment.  As good as it got.

Despatches:  The manager/interim 1^st team coach possibly f***ed up here, but for all the right reasons.  George Williams (Most Improved POTY?) was dropped (rested) for Bree to return.  He was easily beaten twice in the 1^st half, but no worries, he’ll still be around 2^nd half to concede 2 goals from his side.  The second goal was absolutely CRIMINAL and possibly only 33.3333333333333333333333% (recurring) Bree’s fault cos 3 of the f***ers let their bloke have the ball and simply stared at him while he ran into the box.  Lads, this is Sunday league stuff:  one go to him, he turns the other way, the 2^nd bloke takes it off him.  It works against Hamill and Hamill is a far far better player than their left winger.  Thereafter, everyone is all over the place as players try to cover one player, only to leave their own area free.  The knock-back, a tap-in.  ‘You’re not singing anymore’.  Indeed, we weren’t.  F***ing atrocious.  Hamill played well again.  Scored, whipped in balls.  Occasionally over elaborated and/or ran into 2 or 3 defenders at a time, but if he didn’t – he’d be in the Premiership.  Long live his mistakes. Without them, he wouldn’t be with us (in so many ways).  Brownhill won lots of the ball 1^st half before disappearing while Hourihane kept moves flowing but didn’t do much in the final third.  Fletcher was poor (why’s he so much better when he comes on as sub?) but it was nice to see Watkins return (even if he was one of the 3 for their winner).  Isgrove…well, you can write his match before it starts. Busy, creates nowt, scores less.  And Davies was sound, save for 2 goals he could do little about.  

The Pukka Pies East Stand.

Drink du jour: vodka and orange.  Dave misunderstood how to buy alcohol in Sainsburys though and had to piggyback our vodka.  Hence I’m not as trashed as I might normally have been.

Away: a thousand and odd.  I thought there were more.  While I thought we WOULD bring more.  Must be easier getting to Wembley than Oakwell.  (Are there more Londontykes than Barnsleytykes?)
Come on you Reds!  Win the last half a dozen games and…we won’t finish any lower than we are now.  I never wanted to go to Wembley twice in a season anyway.  Honest.

The Damage:
22 travel
5 mug (present)
3 prog

The Ponty.

Pre-match on Grove Street.

BFC 3-2 Oxford United, Sunday 3rd April 2016 (JPT Final)

‘It was like going from Athersley to Arsenal’

Barnsley 3-2 Oxford United, Johnstones Paint Trophy Final, att. 59,230

Welcome to Wembley!

What a glorious time to be a Reds fan.  A fabulous day, spent with some of the people I love the most, watching the Super Reds win their 1^st national trophy since 1912 (or 1955, depending on your standpoint) in a thrilling game.  Londontykes past and present, converged on The Smoke from far and wide, (Vienna, Devon, Darfield) and sat together to see one of our greatest days.  Thanks Mr W for sorting the tickets and seating plan.  It will be a day to never forget.  Till the Alzheimers kicks in.

Reds and yellows on Wembley Way.

For the Coal Hole contingent, it was a promising start.  I expected 3 or 4 waifs and strays to be having a beer in an empty central London pub.  Instead, there were 30 to 40 Londontykes and hangers on.  And a bloke who;d come in to read his newspaper who spent a good 10 mins ranting about the Tories.  I don't remember anyone disagreeing with him. Salisbury had printed out the vouchers for a reduction on the Nicholsons’ breakfast (how very Yorkshire!), which was much needed after my previous late nite (in a ‘garage club’ in Camden; the epitomy of awfulness – the club that is).

What are we doing in Club Wembley?  Whatthehell IS 'Club Wembley'?

So after a couple of false starts, a dozen of us set off.  A call came in on my phone….’Where are you?’  ‘I’ve just left the pub’  ‘Well, I’m at Wembley. You could have told me….’  Oh yes.  My other half had escorted a couple of pensioners wishing to avoid the pub and was now a bit p***ed off I hadn’t got to the Green Man early.  THAT’S what happens when you wait for others.  Luckily, it then took over 10 minutes for Phil to buy a tube ticket at the station.  Do these people not own Oystercards?  Or credit cards wot work.  Christ.  At least everyone else was irritated by now.  Of course, by Baker Street, the weak bladders amongst us were close to bursting.  Another hold up.  F*** em. I had people to meet, so off I went, passing an escalator full of chanting Oxford fans.  The Met Line was much quieter.  Indeed, it was half empty.  I thought there was a game on?

The teams are paraded.

One advantage of getting there early was I could put the flag up.  Least, I could till an over officious steward (Wembley seemed to have a few of them on Sunday) came over and (nicely) told me I couldn’t put it there – at the front, hanging off a bar which was made for it.  Apparently it would block the sponsors (John Stones) name out.  Thing is, ‘Johnstones Paint’ was emblazoned all the way around that tier and I’d have thought the BEST chance they’d have of the media taking any notice of it would be for the odd banner to be hung off it.  I guess this is why I don’t work in advertising.
The other Londontykes filtered in.  As already mentioned, Wadd had done a sterling job in sorting out seats; all the kids in the front row.  Save for Tim’s two of course, cos he’d kicked them out for himself.  But I enjoyed having folk to chirp at on all 4 sides, front, back, left, right.  And Slacki (see later).  Game on!

The full panorama.

Sadly, no-one told BFC.  For most of the 1^st half we appeared to freeze.  Balls were easily intercepted, midfielders couldn’t get on the ball, Isgove kept dribbling it to them and the fullbacks (especially White) resolutely failed to stop the crosses coming in.  Thus it was no surprise when Oxford took the lead from one of these, a right wing cross seeing O’Dowda (?) climb all over Williams at the back post to put the ball across Davies.  Oxford should probably have gone for the jugular but at half time I remained optimistic; though not as optimistic as Tim, who allegedly stuck £700 on us to win and came out £4k richer.  Perhaps, like me, he thought we couldn’t possibly play as badly in the 2^nd half and, for all our ineptitude, we’d still fashioned a couple of half chances.  Winnall overestimated his ability and curled one high and wide with the outside of his boot, Hamill had a 25 yard half volley tipped over, while Fletcher stayed on his feet when he could have gone to ground under pressure from the keeper.  Still, it was Oxford’s half.

Don't panic.  Repeat, don't panic.

What a difference a half time team talk makes.  I’d been telling the father-in-law who our best player was (is) and he couldn’t understand why we weren’t passing him the ball.  All this changed, with Hamill ‘on it’ from the start.  Having won an earlier corner, he whipped in a beauty of an inswinger which was met by Winnall for the equaliser.  Cue delirium, and Slacki asking where his money is.  Double delirium a few minutes later as the scoreboard announced it was an OG.  Winnall will NEVER get to 20 this season, a fact I reminded Slacki of with pleasure.

'Winnall 52' arf arf.

The tide had turned.  All the action was in their half as we pressed high and another cross from Hamill created carnage, as Fletcher missed it, Toney shot, and the rebound fell to Fletch to hammer it home, off the keeper’s hand and defender.  From nowhere we were in the lead.  Oxford looked shellshocked.  However, not so shellshocked that they didn’t nearly go and score, Davies making a match winning instinctive save as their player broke through.  Our name really was on the cup/trophy (what’s the difference?)

The Barnsley End.

Then the icing on the cake.  Hamill picks the ball up on the halfway line and strides forward.  He shimmies one way, then another, drops a left, goes right…and curls the ball into the far corner from 20 yards.  The goal of the season.  We have won!  There is no coming back for Oxford now.  Hicksy goes down the row kissing everyone he meets on the lips.  Oxford score.  Oh bolloc*s.
Yes, White fails to cut out another cross and the outswinging ball is met with a full on header into the top corner.  A great goal – if it was ours.  There were still 15 minutes left, but we saw it out relatively scare-free.  They were so desperate they even brought on ex-Reds loanee carthorse George Waring.  ‘Well, he’s never gonna score’ I shouted.  ‘It’s the first time I’ve ever wanted you to be right’ said his #1 fan Loko.

Match action.

If anyone was going to score it was us, as Hammill had one blocked near the line and sub Chapman dribbled in from the left and forced a save (and a mouthful from a better-placed Hammill).  Oh well, who cares?  WE’VE JUST WON AT WEMBLEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Now for the play-offs.  Same seats again, Paul.
*** Hamill.  With every week that passes we love him more – and hopefully it’s reciprocal.  Beats players, sets up chances, scores.  If he can only get us promotion, maybe he’ll stay (please).
** Roberts.  Someone has to head the ball away if the fullbacks can’t defend.
*Davies.  THAT save, plus a couple more, as well as decent kicking and handling.
Londontykes MOTM:
*** Hamill
** Roberts
* Hourihane

'GET IN!'

Drink du jour:  lager, lager, lager.  Actually, I don’t remember drinking anything else.  Though I did miss 3 hours of drinking in Mabels Tavern by taking the oldies for dinner.  There were a lot of casualties by the time I arrived back, none more so than Hicksy who, under instruction to go and get some food, hopped on to a train back to Wembley to a hotel whose name he didn’t know, who didn’t answer their phone and he didn’t know where it was.  THAT’S how little he wanted to stay at my house.  And good to see Reds legend Brian Howard come for beers, as well as adorning his flat cap at Wembley.  Sunday nite of course means reduced licensing hours. No probs:  onto the Radisson (where Salisbury was staying) and £40 a round (4 drinks).  Nobody cared.  Did I mention WE’VE JUST WON AT WEMBLEY!!!!!!!!!!    As for the Reds fan in the hotel bar who ordered a round while his trousers were round his ankles…I presume he knows these places have CCTV?
YOOOOOOUUUUUUUUU REDDDDDZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Damage:
£48 ent
£5 prog (x2)
£10 scarf

Celebratory fleurs de lys

hugs are drugs..and I'm addicted.

We've done it!  We've won the lower division trophy!

When will these people stop grinning?

The flag makes an appearance

Beer makes this Norweigan look younger.

Mr M snr.  This is his winning face!

This chap hasn't had many...

Charming...

'I don't know why I don't come to football more often'

Eric Morecambe with his pub haul of left items

I was there.

Wembley Arch

The Oxford End.  Where've they all gone?

Barnsley FC - 'Bringing colour to the beautiful game'.

Trophy-winning panorama

Goodbye!

The last men standing sitting.