Barnsley 1-0 Millwall, Saturday 22nd February 2014

‘Going Down With the Millwall’

You know the drill by now.  We win a game and I tell you the only reason we won was cos of how bad the opposition were.  And then Loko laments my negativity.  But tis true.  This fixture will be repeated next season – in division 3.  (Actually, thinking of Loko, I hear he arrived late, so he problies thinks it was a scoreless draw – don’t tell him, anyone).

Mi'wa', Mi'wa', Mi'wa', Mi'wa'

By the time we scored the only goal of the game, the scene had already been set.  Despite dragging in Wilson to hopefully repeat the Brazilian football of yesteryear, we went all rudimentary against Millwall, electing to hoof the ball long as often as possible.  As I bemoaned the 4^th or 5^th time we’d done it early doors, another hopeful punt was launched, only this time we had a player running behind the defence (there’s a novel idea).  Even better, it was Waddington’s arch nemesis James O’Brien.  He’s rubbish he is – as he pulls the ball down from the sky, cuts inside, rounds the keeper and plants a cheeky finish through the legs of a defender.  

Then…well, not much.  Not much I can remember.  We continued hoofing it, they continued losing it, they missed a couple of close range scrambles (not sure how they stayed out) while we created FA.  Yes, Jennings sidefooted a tame effort at the keeper when O’Brien (him again) was well placed, but Jennings had earnt the right to miss, skinning their full back.  Mellis went off at HT to the disappointment of no-one, Dawson came on and ran about a bit.  We had a couple of half chances before O’Grady had no clue what to do, 35 yards out, with the keeper 10 yards out of his area.  Can someone buy him a bottle of composure, with a squirt of quick thinking thrown in?

Yes, Millwall were s***.  

Spot the ball!

*** Frimpong.  Won absolutely everything in midfield.
** Crainie.  Him and Ramage were rocks, but Crainie edges it cos of a couple of crucial blocks.
* Jennings.  Who is this new bloke?

Sponsors MOTM: Jim O’Brien (he’s rubbish he is).

Despatches:
Nice to see Jimbo bag.  Ran around enthusiastically the rest of the game too, as did Dawson when he came on.  German Nick didn’t do much (I haven’t seen him do ANYTHING yet, given that if he’s not scoring he’s doing nowt, and I’ve not seen him score).  Brek can waste time like a pro in the corner (but I hate to see us do this – it just sends the message we’re not interested in scoring).

Drink du jour: vodka and orange, followed by a couple of celebratory Asahi with Gandy in Kings X.

I also stayed up to see us win on the FLS…or to be more precise, I was home in time to fall asleep on the couch and woke up to see Jim O’Brien (he’s rubbish he is) notch.

Onwards and upwards!

A

RKC Waalwijk v NEC Nijmegen, Saturday 15th February 2014

RKC Waalwijk 1-3 NEC Nijmegen

Welcome to ......

There can’t be many people who profess to a yearning to catch a RKC game, but since discovering the place has no train station, it’s been plaguing me for a while.  An evening game (why DO the Dutch play games on a Saturday EVENING?) looked out of the question till a bit of digging on t’internet found that it was, indeed, possible to watch the match and still get back to Amsterdam before the clock struck midnight.

Hurry up...I need a pee!

My earlier carriages were a train to Den Bosch from the Dam (one hour) followed by a bus to Waalwijk.  Either by luck or ‘integrated transport system’ I only had to wait two minutes for the bus.  I made it to the stadium twenty minutes before KO, positively eons of time by my standards: it wasn’t meant this way, my journey to Amsterdam was delayed seven hours.  Thank goodness for Satdy night games!

The sides come out.

Another thanks to ‘Laura’ in the ticket office for reserving me a ticket, having checked with the stadium safety officer (!?) that I’d be allowed (not being a member and all).  This is another bugbear: the Dutch membership scheme.  If you get a club snooty enough (yes, Twente and AZ, I mean you) then rather than ENcourage you to attend, they’ll DIScourage.  So ‘big up’ to those capable of finding a way in for Johnny Foreigner (De Graafschap, VVV, Roda JC…even Breda, though I never made that game).

RKC ultras

So, yes, I picked up my ticket and, rather fancying a trip to the toilet, I forewent the lure of the sports bar behind the goal and dashed into the ground.  And having barely eaten all day I grabbed a ‘burger’ which appeared to be some form of chicken in breadcrumbs.  A Waalwijk burger?  Still, the gruel filled a hole (I wouldn’t want another one) before I took my seat, beer in hand.  Oddly, I couldn’t find my seat to sit in (my seat number was ‘1’ but the row ended at ‘2’) but I took a seat anyway, somewhere behind an extension built for wheelchair users which protruded out from the stand.  Although it covered a small bit of touchline action, it wasn’t a problem, the ball never went there.

An odd little 'stand' for the wheelchair users.

NEC nearly scored 64 seconds in, a smart move putting their bod clean through on the right and it looked a sure goal as he hit it across the keeper – only for it to cannon back off the far post.  It was all Nijmegen, till RKC, on a break, went one up.  One forward got his head down and ran at the centre halves, while the other buried the loose ball from 20 yards after the initial tackle went in.

However, NEC continued to look like a decent side, cutting down RKC at will.  They hit the bar with a header before the keeper parried another to the feet of a lurking centre forward: one-all.  Still NEC pressed and before half time a disputed free kick was curled in from the left and some NEC giant flicked the ball home.  Easy!

One drenched cameraman.

Half time and a kids penalty shoot out was diverting enough.  That and RKC’s beautiful pitch – how do they do it, in the middle of winter?  But I managed to understand why a match ticket cost €30 (€30!  I said I was keen – you’d need to be).  Hanging from the roof were great bloody electrical heaters!  They must cost a fortune.  If only heat didn’t rise, cos despite the odd bit of warm air, I was freezing my nuts off.

I told you so...heaters in the roof !!!!!!!!!!!

Second half carried on as before, with NEC dominant but failing to pick RKC off.  And they could’ve regretted it, with RKC having a couple of great chances to…miss.  NEC hit the bar again before killing the game off with a hilarious third.  NEC ran clear down the right and crossed it to the back post where the lardy centre forward swung and scuffed and as the keeper lay prone, he poked the ball over him.  Let’s just say the style of celebration he went for was ‘sheepish’.

The three or four hundred Nijmegen fans didn’t care though.  Job done.  In fact, I thought NEC looked a lot better than their league position, which in the programme claimed:

                                Pld        Pts
RKC                          23          26
Utrecht                     23          25
Cambuur                  23          23
Roda JC                    23          22
NEC                          23          21
Den Haag                  23          21

So, a bit of a six-pointer.  Shame then (for RKC) that there was only one team in it.  Coming out to ‘The Eye of the Tiger’ failed to rouse the homesters and neither did the driving rain.  Disappointingly for me, I couldn’t push any more dosh RKC’s way either, with no woolly hats for my freezing head.  I’d have suited yellow and blue!

Steps up to behind the goal.

I was worried after the game.  I was trusting that the same bus would take me back to Den Bosch and the rain continued to lash it down.  I needn’t have worried.  The bus stop was less than five minutes away and the bus came within two.  Got to Den Bosch then caught a train ten mins later, time enough to grab a couple of tinnies for the journey.  Job’s a good un.

So, was it a treat?  Well, despite freezation, I enjoyed the game, sort of.  The stadium though is a non-descript concrete carbuncle, one tier, all enclosed – with trees behind the far stand.  It could easily have been De Graafschap (save for the electric heaters). 

The Damage:
Entry: €30
‘Burger’ and beer: €6
programme: free (picked up afterwards)

Behind the goal (away fans, far side).

Behind the goal.

Main Stand side.

Wheelchair Stand, heaters...the RKC experience!

Barnsley 2-2 Ipswich Town, Saturday 8th February 2014

‘I quite like beach volleyball’

2 points lost or one point gained?  Well, it’s another nail in our relegation coffin for me, despite the fact Ipshit (are you reading this, Wrighty?) failed to win despite having countless chances to score, 2^nd half.  Facts being facts though, we looked another gift horse in the mouth…and it threw up all over us.  If there was a surprise, it wasn’t the chucking away of a two-nil lead with 15 mins to go, no, it was the two-nil lead in the first place.  

The Tractor Boys

Half time, we limped in one-nil.  An absolutely AWFUL half of football settled by O’Grady’s classy early effort: nothing on, no-one to help him, back to goal, he turned onto his left (only) foot and found the far corner in slow motion.  The keeper stood and stared, but, really, do these teams not do their homework?  Just like Bruce Dire only had the one move, this was the only way O’Grady would get a shot off.  Still, took it well.

Then, for 35 minutes we watched as neither side put together more than two passes at a time.  It was like my old Sunday morning side – two touch football. One to control it, the other to hoof it down the pitch.  (We had an excuse: we were terrible).  Ok, it was windy.  And looking at the corner flags, often the wind went in 4 different directions.  But looking at the way our hoofs would consistently find their keeper or touch, the wind was mainly in the direction of their net.  But a thought struck me: isn’t football an OUTDOOR sport?  Do our players not practice in the wind?  Cos every time it’s windy, our players, quite frankly, do not have a CLUE.  The wind can swirl at Oakwell – which surely should be to OUR advantage cos don’t we play there more often than Ipswich, et al?

Anyway, Ipswich came out second half and started playing this thing called FOOTBALL.  They’d come up with a cunning idea (the ba5tards) to alleviate the effects of the wind: they’d keep the ball on the floor, move around and pass the ball between each other.  I hate it when teams do that.  We were on the backfoot from the off, with their bloke clearing the bar from 10 yards (after Steele palmed the ball to his feet) and then Steele making a double save while the defence stared.  Mind, for once we did do well with 2 or 3 clearances on the backpost as Ipswich poured forward.  Really, it was only a matter of time before there was a goal.  And it came – to us!

O’Grady wrestled his way past a defender before falling over.  The ref gave a generous free kick (don’t worry, this will even itself out) and Cywka rifled it into the far corner, via a deflection.  (Special mention to the backroom staff for remembering to put his name on the teamsheet this week).  It was the proverbial ‘inspirational substitution’ (except everyone was calling for the inept Shea to be taken off).  We’d robbed them!  Like, totally excellent, dude!!!  We’d see this one out.  Even we wouldn’t throw away 2-0.  Oh.

Within 10 minutes it’s twos apiece and we’re hanging on for a point.  O’Brien gifts a second goal in two games, his inability on the line teeing it up for their bod to hook into an empty net.  Mind, I don’t know where the rest of the red shirted brigade were, cos there was no-one near the blue bloke.  Then, with the ref desperately trying to even out the earlier soft free kick, he gives them one too.  Note to refs: just cos a bloke falls on the floor, it doesn’t make it an automatic free kick.  The ball is tapped wide for McGoldrick to hammer it into the roof of the net, via another deflection.  Inevitable.

Thankfully, there was still 10 mins left.  I say thankfully, cos at least it gave the team some time to show they actually had some spine, and while we didn’t really come close, we comfortably held out.  All in all, a good point against a side head and shoulders above us.

*** Jennings.  Sponsors MOTM.  What a turnaround.  Couldn’t do anything right earlier in the season, goes on loan, comes back a different player.  If only it was that easy all the time.  Ran at their players, good in possession, found his own players with the pass, chased back and was in the right place at the right time in defence on more than one occasion.  Excellent all-round display.

** O’Grady.  The usual, plus goal.

* Crainie.  Crucial interceptions plus doesn’t get carried away when bringing the ball out.  A couple of time he coulda got excited and blazed a 30 yarder at their goal, but he realises his limitations and elected to pass it wide.

Gets dark early in Barnsley, in February.

Despatches:
One for the Supporters Trust to consider, this one.  I saw a brilliant idea on Satdy for improving the atmosphere at Oakwell – try and chuck a fan out.  (What’s Selwood’s seat number?)  While winning in front of the usual silence, (the silence being usual, not the winning), the stewards were trying to evict a fan in the top left of the Ponty.  For 5 mins this was better than the match.  The fans were chanting about sitting where they wanted (it was packed high up – I think fans had moved up there out of the torrential rain) and 4 stewards went in to evict.  As the fan they were after eventually decided to acquiesce and leave, he walked down the aisle as fans jostled the stewards.  But would he exit?  No, the cheeky scamp walked past the exit and appeared to melt into the crowd as the stewards were pushed about, one falling over, before wisely beating a retreat.  I’m sure Dr. Newby would be telling us this would be the cue in Red China for the soldiers to make their entrance.  Anyway, got the fans going.  Let’s have some more of that!

As for the players, Shea was truly terrible, the bloke next to me reckoning he’d mistaken the sport we were playing for American football, such was the number of times he dived into their players.  Wisely dragged off at HT.  Hunt looked very promising at right back.  Does that mean we have TWO promising right backs on loan…while Kennedy cements his place wide left?  Hunt delighted the crowd with a backheeled cross that no-one else on our team would’ve thought of in a similar position.  Which is why he’s not our player.  I thought Dawson and O’Brien did a decent enough job in midfield.  Shame then that O’Brien once again found himself at right back as Hunt got lamed by their bloke.  Would he have been on the line for that corner were Hunt still on the pitch? It’s the tiny things wot make the biggest differences.  Cywka looked too keen to do well, so consequently didn’t (apart from the goal) and to the numpties who say we needed someone like Mellis on, someone who could keep possession in the middle: had he played, we’d never have been winning 2-0.  FACT, fact fans.  Prosewich (sp?) didn't do much either.  We've already got one lumbering strongman with no pace up front.  I'd have thought two was greedy.

The journey back was amusing, Slacki and Phil having their dream foursome: sharing a table with a couple of feminists returning from a conference.  Slacki in particular was doing his best to sound quite the model ‘new man’.  Though in discussing the appeal of watching female sport, while Slacki went for the ladies Ashes, Phil’s eyes glazed over and he couldn’t help tell all how much he likes beach volleyball.  Nice one, Phil.

And I cannot let this report leave without mention of Salisbury’s abominable haircut.  Really, it’s worth an e-mail thread of its own.  Altogether now….’ONE TWO THREE FOUR, UNITED STATES MARINE CORPS!!!!’

Sadly, we didn’t have the company of Jonesy this week, since he’d come up with his Ipswich mates, who all decided to come dressed as Man U fans, all in black.  They’d have looked quite the menacing types too, were they not all completely wan*ered even before kick off.  Oh, and one looking uncannily like James Corden.   

Onwards and upwards!

A

Away: 817

The final score is in...

Washday 1-0 Barnsley, Saturday 1st February 2014

‘Jacob Ba5tard fcuking Mellis’

Pre-match entertainment Washday-style

Things I don’t remember about yesterday:  journeying home to Peckham, meowing at the cat when he woke me up, staring at Match of the Day while making the V sign at Alan Pardew.

Thing I do remember: waking up at 3 in the morning convinced it was time to go to work and getting up and putting the shower on. ‘Allan, what are you doing?’ ‘But it’s 3 in the morning and it’s a SUNDAY!’

What a game, what a day.  A decent turnout from the Londontykes with half a dozen optimistic fools making the journey up, 2 in first class (Phil and Tim). Our company is only worthwhile one way.  (True).  Onto the north and Sheffield’s finest real ale pub, whatever it’s called at Kelham Island.  For a second year in a row I make the mistake of ordering an Erdinger ‘dunkel’.  I may not have the opportunity to make it a hattrick.  Good to meet Molly and Sharon in there too, though they wisely decided to avoid the pain of Hillsborough.

I don’t know what to say.  What I do know is that for over an hour the Super Reds battled bravely with 10 men and barely gave Washday a sniff of goal. Barely a sniff.  Steele tipped one over the bar and made a couple of other regulatory saves, but that was it.  And then, in the 7^th minute of injury time (!!!!!), with us down to 9 men, a Washday pot shot from distance skidded along the turf and flew into the bottom corner beyond a diving Steele.  Even worse, I was in line with the shot all the way and you knew before it hit the net it was a goal.  Fate decreed it.  

The inquest began at 3:29pm however, around the time debutant Frimpong was sent off.  There’s no doubt he deserved his cards.  The first yellow, he’d only been spoken to by the ref 30 seconds before.  The second one, I was even more livid.  Like the rest of us, Frimpong watched as Kennedy and Mellis resolutely refused to put a tackle in on the 2 dawdling Washday players in the corner.  (Ironic considering what happened later).  So Frimpong went over to sort it out, their player cleverly shielded the ball away from him and he ran into the back of him.  See ya!  Till then, I thought he looked the best player on the pitch.  

The walk of shame (idiot).

So, we sat back and soaked up what ‘pressure’ there was, while in Jennings we had a player who looked like he could do something on the break.  And then our chance came: Washday went down to 10 with about 10 to play, their lad nearly brekking Shea.  We had played a wily, patient game with the Fowls and now we could exploit their stupidity and take our chance.  The crowd were willing on the Super Reds, now was our time.  The ball bounced around their box a bit and Mellis went down claiming a pen.  I wasn’t convinced – though his reaction seemed to suggest otherwise.  Indeed, the Angry Man of our midfield still hadn’t calmed down a minute later and went in studs up on their winger.  Given the straight red earlier, there could be no other option.

9 v 10, even more difficult than 10 v 11, and as Washday poured men forward for a corner, our chance came.  The ball broke loose for us outside of our box and if O’Brien could just switch it left, we had 2 players alone on the overlap.  He tried.  He failed.  Washday strode forward, unleashed the shot and we’d lost another derby against that bunch of shysters.  Selwood’s pre-match prediction of us ‘snatching defeat from the jaws of victory’ proved prescient.

South Stand

So, who to blame?  I’m taking entries for:

1.  Frimpong.  Despite his obvious class, he looked an accident waiting to happen.  Obviously not the most intelligent of footballers, considering the ref had actually chatted to him about his conduct and he simply carried on.

2.  The ref.  Premiership (!) ref Andre Marriner manages to add on 7 minutes of injury time (the 4^th official having announced there’d be ‘a minimum of 5 minutes injury time’ - well, he was right there!) as well as making a whole host of other ‘interesting’ decisions.  If this is the best we have in this country, how badly would a ‘normal’ ref have handled this game?  

3.  O’Brien.  If only he’d just hoofed the ball down the line, we’d have come away with a point.  But we were all screaming for the crossfield ball – weren’t we?

4.  Jacob Ba5tard Fcuking Mellis.  What an absolute tit of a footballer.  Can’t tackle, won’t tackle – until he gets so riled he can’t help himself.  We’d got the game to 10 v 10, we were now in the ascendancy, and then he unleashes his ridiculous tackle (fnarr, fnarr).  Being that he is such a ‘talent’, how come Danny couldn’t find someone to take this pesky footballer off our hands during the transfer window?  Still, we’ll not have to put up with him for the next 3 matches.  Tw*t.

*** Ramage.  Out of this world.
** Crainie.  Unbelieveable.
* Jennings.  Really.

North Stand

Despatches:

Despite the fans willing the team on to hit Washday on the break, I thought Danny and the team got their tactics spot on when we went down to 10. More than once we saw players have to restrain themselves from chasing down balls in the Washday half and we so nearly got our just desserts.  

On another note, Washday are really straining my ambivalent relationship with them.  I couldn’t give a rat’s ar5e about them under normal circumstances.  They are as inconsequential a team as you could wish to meet.  I’ve never lived anywhere near their beautiful city and I’ve never lived anywhere their supporters are visible.  (Even in London, I’ll see Mags or Mackems, but I never see one of those blue and white stripey knobs, however ‘huge’ they purport to be on Radio Sheffield).  But losing 13 matches in 15 at their place, when they haven’t had a decent side in all that time, is highly f***ing annoying.  In fact, such is the predictability of our doom, invariably in ‘controversial circumstances’, that you could put your house on it.  So why does yesterday hurt so much?  Well, as someone once said, it’s the HOPE I can’t stand.  We’d come SO close, only to fail, yet again.  It's like Groundhog Day, again and again and again.

Drink du jour: vodka.  Lots of it, but not enough of it.

Sheffield Superclub, Hillsborough