BFC 0-2 Dirty Leeds, Saturday 25th November 2017

‘We’re f***ing s***, we’re f***ing s***, we’re f***ing s***'

Welcome to...Oakwell and the Sky lorry.

I am cold. I am frustrated.  I am depressed.  It must be November and I must be at a home game at Oakwell, as we fail to win again.  I blame physiology myself.  Our players simply aren’t cut out for anything other than 3pm on a Saturday, our capitulations in live games v Dirty Leeds and Villa proving this season; but hang on, we don’t win 3pm games at Oakwell either.  Another theory goes the way of the rest.  Personally, I knew we were going to lose when a lady came out of the toilet on the train and wiped her feet on the carpet.  Never a good omen.  Slacki sent a Whatsapp message; he’s recording it, so don’t spoil it for him.  I told him we were two down after 20 minutes.  2 hours before the match even kicked off.  I was only 29 minutes out, as Dirty Leeds bagged the crucial 2^nd 4 minutes into 1^st half injury time.  Drat.  (An understatement.)

The Super Reds line up.

And it all started so well.  Actually, I don’t even remember it starting averagely.  We were played off the park from start to finish in the 1^st half as DL pressed high up the pitch with 3 players and had two more in back-up in our own half.  We simply didn’t have the ability to pass it around them.  Think the Super Reds under that magical spell under Flitcroft when we did the same to others.  Would we start missing our players out and going long?  Well, on the rare occasion we did, a DL centre half simply strode across, headed it back and we were under pressure again.  It was one of the most dispiriting halves of football from the Reds in a long while, and against this set of Jimmy Savile-loving reprobates as well.  Not happy

Dirty Leeds.

The one bright spark to our day was going via Sheffield, so a chance to sample an ale in the Tap, which turned into two when our train was cancelled.  Great.  We stood up all the way to Londontown.  Good job we’re athletes.  Still, the journey always goes faster when there’s plenty to moan about – and there was plenty to moan about.

We went behind when DL picked up a ball in our half (Williams the wrong side) and was allowed to stride 15 yards unchallenged before firing home low to the keeper’s right, classic Redfearn.  Why the centre halves stood back and let him please himself, I’ve no idea.  As for Davies, what’s he doing? Trying to scoop it clear?  JUST BLOCK THE THING, MAN.  Poor all round from our point of view.

Idiot Corner blocked off this season.

Thereafter, it’s all a bit scrappy, but there’s some light as a scuffle ends in Barnes and their fullback being booked.  Brilliant. Barnes will skin him, get the bloke a 2^nd yellow and we’re in this game.  Only the opposite happens, and Barnes escapes a blatant early bath when the ref takes pity and doesn’t book him for a blatant tug.  This leads directly to their 2^nd, as Barnes pulls out of fouling their man for fear of being sent off and the ball runs to another DL who hits a triffic strike into the far corner with his left.  Christ. Just as I was thinking we could limp to half time and have Hecky change things for the 2nd half.

The Ponty v DL.

Hecky does change it at half time: Barnes is off, before he’s sent off.  All hope evaporates.  Who else is going to set something up?  DL are put through and nearly score a 3^rd.  We never look like bagging and send on Ugbo.  We never look like bagging and we send on Hedges.  We must be desperate.  However, this week the left-footed one is played on the LEFT and looks a world beater, whipping in two glorious low balls across the box and beating a couple of players for our only decent effort on target.  I don’t know how one cross didn’t end up a goal, with the defender shinning it over the bar from 4 yards.  At least there was some entertainment to be had, but too little too late.  At least the early kick off allowed me to get back to London for a party.  Silver clouds and all that.

DL defend a corner.  (We had a corner?)

*** Hedges.  Fabulous cameo. ** No-one.
* No-one.

Twitter MOTM: Hammill

Londontykes' MOTM:  1. Hedges  2. No-one  3. No-one.

Despatches:
Absolutely nobody else came out with any credit, Hecky included.  It was going wrong from the start.  Be bold.  Make a raft of subs, change the formation, anything.  Don’t wait for the inevitable, followed up by its sequel.  Two down it was effectively game over.
As my dad said, none of our players would have made Leeds’ team today.  Everyone was tragic in their own way.  Davies could have done better for the 1^st and his kicking and throwing were back to their woeful worst.  Yiadom kept overrunning the ball in taking players on.  Fryers’ deadballs were just that. Williams made a few tackles, but continued his record of giving the ball away.  Hammill was the Twitter MOTM, possibly for one blocked shot.  Lindsay and MacDonald looked like strangers, while the former suddenly decides he wants to play it short all day when, for once, the ball needs to be hoofed. Bradshaw was Bradshaw (I can smell that money now.  He’s never gonna get 12 by Xmas at this rate.)  Barnes did beat a player, but as mentioned, was an accident waiting to happen.  Potts was anonymous, or as anonymous as a 6ft 3 blond can be.  And talking of Moncur, he was so invisible Reedy and I hadn’t realised he was taken off.  Mind, it wouldn’t have mattered had we had a dozen players on the pitch.  And that Gardner bloke.  Christ.  Have I seen a worse footballer in a Reds shirt? It was pitiful and all in front of the nation too, courtesy of Sky (tho I’m not sure how many would tune in for this.)  So at least we got paid (big?) bucks for a game destined for a lunchtime kick-off anyway.  Hopefully it paid for all the police who were there today, there were dozens of them, including some from Scouseland. 

Police vans as far as the eye can see.

Finally, great to see Cardiac Jones back in action after his health scares.  He wasn’t drinking neither, which was handy, cos he made the run up the hill in Sheffield for the booze.  But I can’t help feeling his resistance to temptation was somewhat undone by his diet on the way back: Ham sarnie with lashings of butter, cheese crisps and a pork pie washed down with a walnut whip.  The meal of champions.  I give him two months.

Onwards and upwards!

Away: 4.530.  And at least they didn’t crow too much.  The atmosphere was a bit muted all round once they scored.  Job done, I guess.

Drink du jour: Weihenstepaner in the Tap and Erdinger on the train.  I wasn’t allowed to arrive in London too hammered.

The Damage:
£24 train

The Tunes:
Until the Hunter (Hope Sandoval and the Warm Inventions)
Slowdive (Slowdive)
Claustrophobia (Scuba)

Panorama from the Ponty.

Panorama from the East Stand.

Norwich City 1-1 BFC, Saturday 18th November 2017

‘If you want a jelly baby, just ask, you don't have to kill me!'

Welcome to...while the teams line up.

80 years of hurt, never stopped us trying.  When will we ever win at Carrow Road?  Even when we dominate, we can’t get past the line, but I s’pose we must be grateful that we came back for a point, after a completely fortuitous completely against the run of play opener for the Canaries.  

All that was to come tho, as the ‘Banter bus’ left Peckham at 10 in the morn for a sojourn to the far east.  Not owning a car, I always get a tingle of excitement when I get chance to drive. Maybe it’s the thought of Selwood and Reedy’s life chances being at my disposal, I dunno.  However, by 9:45am the novelty had run out, as I’d gone the wrong way down the road from New Cross and found myself going the opposite direction to intended.  F***ing London.  I wouldn’t mind, but I’d been down said road dozens of times on my bike, but you find yourself in the wrong lane in a car and that’s it.  I arrived at Peckham Rye station dead on time tho, only to find Andy wouldn’t be arriving, his trains were up the spout and he’d see me at Blackfriars with Dave.  F***ing London. F***ing trains.

Only in Norwich.

The drive wasn’t too bad.  I don’t think those in the back saw I’d reached 115mph before I decided to ease back on the accelerator.  But I owed it to them: the quicker I got there, the quicker I could watch them drink.  We arrived, parked up in the County Hall car park (8 quid!) before Andy took us to a vegan pub he’d looked up last year.  Closed.  Great.  Walking towards town, we hit the stadium first.  To hell with it; let’s go Wetherspoons.  (Even then we had to be under cover: ‘No away fans’ though it didn’t stop them serving everything in plastic glasses. Never again.)

Pre-match parking.

I was very optimistic, despite the lack of victory in 17 previous outings (7 draws). This was why I was asking about our records at Norwich and QPR (the latter, 3 draws and 21 defeats in 24).  I’d seen on the Championship last week that there’s a team with an even worse away record than ourselves.  QPR (ironically) haven’t won at Forest in 29 games, the 1^st side ever to ‘achieve’ no victory in so many games away at the same opposition, I’m told.

Two of us enjoy a pint.

The optimism seemed founded too.  We ran the 1^st 10 minutes and they couldn’t get out of their half. Yiadom was rampaging down the right and we had Barnes on the left.  We looked slick going forward and we’d quietened the home crowd.  So naturally they scored with their first attack.  Fryers switched off, Lindsay failed miserably on the cover and no-one picked up the runner for the pullback.  OK, so they got jammy with the deflection off MacDonald, but it was appalling all round.  The Canaries finally made some noise.  ‘You only sing when you’re winning’ came the retort.  We continued to have the upper hand, but only had a Hammill snapshot from 20 yards to show for our efforts, Manchester City’s Angus Gunn tipping over.

The view from Carrow Road (till we moved).

I timed my half time p*** well.  Too late to inhale the smoke, early enough to return for what might be our goal of the season.  A lightning-fast break from our half and zippy passes meant we had a man on the overlap.  Moncur duly laid the ball off to Barnes and Leicester City equalised, calmly sidefooting home.  (Meantime, it actually was Leicester v Man City at the King Power.)  My pre-match prediction of 2-1 to the Super Reds didn’t look so daft now.

The home end and their revolving scoreboard.

Unfortunately, our plans were scuppered slightly by MacDonald having to go off injured, hurting himself clattering into a tackle that did well not to break the other bloke.  Angus (our Angus; has there ever been a match outside of Scotland with two Anguses?  Angusi?) had put in a brilliant block a few minutes earlier too.  A cracking return to form.  McCarthy came on and had a decent turn at centre half too.  He’s great.

Sunset over Carrow Road.

Hammill tired and Hecky brought on Hedges..and he was our big disappointment for me.  3 or 4 times he had time and space on the right, 3 or 4 times he cut inside onto his only foot and was tackled.  The fullback had him in his pocket.  Couldn’t he switch wings for a bit?  The fullback showed him to his outside, where Hedges would have had plenty of time to put in a cross with his righ…oh yeah, he doesn’t HAVE a right foot.  Otherwise, neither side really threatened and the Canaries showed what they thought of their team, booing them off.  To be fair to the home support, they didn’t get on the players backs during the game, though it was the most non-existent atmosphere in the home end I’ve ever seen.  And they must have been bad – they gave Marley a late trot out (but refused to give him the ball).  He should never have left us.

The players give thanks.

*** MacDonald.  At his imperious best. For 57 minutes.  

** Williams.  Broke down the Canary midfield.

* Barnes.  Always likely.

Londontykes' MOTM: 1. Williams  2. Barnes  3= MacDonald/Lindsay

Despatches:
What is it with away stewards, insisting on away fans sitting down while 3000 home fans can stand up all day behind the goal?  Still, we moved ourselves and had the seats above the gangway.  Perfect.  

Shouldn’t grumble too much about the players.  Essentially, we were great when we played it to feet, less so when we didn’t.  I heard someone say Lindsay had a good game, but for me, all he did was f*** up for their goal and ping balls to Bradshaw’s head.  Nevermind the 3 on 2 break where he passed the ball straight to one of their defenders.  I guess he was lost, being that far up the pitch.  Hammill wasted a great opportunity to lay the ball off to someone better placed, but otherwise never lost the ball. What he lacks in pace, he makes up for in intelligence.  Course, we now have Barnes for the cutting edge.  Davies was perfect – but who wouldn’t be, when you’ve little to do?  Yiadom faded after a promising start, while Fryers was blatantly under instruction not to venture too far up the pitch, which was a real shame.  I think we missed a trick here, Norwich were there for the beating, no need to be so conservative.  I can’t say I noticed Potts while it was a shame the half chances we created didn’t fall to Bradshaw.  Or maybe it wasn’t.  I’ve bets to win.  Moncur looked tidy, but was generally crowded out on the edge of the box.

You can't argue with stats.

Drink du jour: lemonade and latte.  Not together, am driving.  Later, a mini-Peckham pub crawl with Andy: The Hope, then a dodgy pub we never went in ‘I’m not going in there!’, The Prince of Peckham (suitably poncy), John The Unicorn (hipster central) and Peckham Springs, where the females were noticeably chubbier, according to my companion.

Onwards and upwards!

Away: 6-700. Decent atmosphere at times.  1^st time I’ve heard us outsing Norwich at their place. 

The Damage:
£25 ent
£3.50 prog
£8 car park

The Tunes:
BBC 6 Music

Norwich v Barnsley panorama.

Heading towards Mecca.

Is it a bird?  Is it...Yes, it's a bird.  A canary.

Hi Sarah!  (somewhere in the far upper tier)

Oxford United 1-2 Northampton Town, Saturday 11th November 2017

Oxford United 1-2 Northampton Town (att. 8,267)

Welcome to ....

With it being another international weekend (don’t get me started) it was a chance to delve into the lower divisions and tick another stadium off.  Oxford seemed perfect, at least it’s easy to get to from London.  I’d been to the old Manor Ground, twice, but never this new stadium.  I’d heard it was difficult to get to and you get the occasional whiff of sewage from the local works.  The former was certainly true, the latter…well, I did catch a couple of sewery-type smells, 2^nd half, but this may have been osmosis.

Nearly there...

For once I had company too.  An old Londontyke mate who lives near Witney came down.  As I was his Best Man once upon a time, I s’pose it’d be rude not to meet up.  And then The Captain came up from Southampton way.  He’s so keen to crack on with his 92 he’s giving Norwich away a miss next week to visit Port Vale.  I wish him luck.

The view from the Car Park End.  Did they have to cut down these trees?

I have no recollection of where Oxford’s old ground was in relation to the city centre, but I do know it can’t have been half the journey of the Kassam (is it still called that?)  After a few pints in town, we jumped into a taxi.  Now, call me pernickety, but if I’m travelling through fields to get to somewhere, that means I’m in a completely different town.  Stu, who knows the area, swears this was the best route.

20 mins later we were there.  OK, we missed kick-off (we heard the minute’s silence!) but we were quickly served at the box office (by a lovely mature lady) and took our seats in the North Stand.  Surprisingly, considering how busy it was in that section, we got 3 seats together.  One £4 pie later, we were sat down.  

Subtle, yet in your face.  I like it.

Northampton isn’t exactly a derby, though the two consider themselves rivals, and at forty odd miles, close enough for the away side to bring a decent contingent, 1300+.  Certainly their end was full.  Perhaps if Oxford had a 4^th side to their stadium (will it ever be anything other than a car park?) then they’d have more scope to increase this.

Barriers to prevent us from sticking it to Northampton.

As it is, the Kassam has three well proportioned stands, all cantilever, with the ubiquitous ‘meccano’ roof supports.  The Main Stand has two tiers (upper tier, £28 – for 3^rd division action!) while the other two stands have one tier. But where we were was quite steep, and we were very lucky to be seated a fair way up, virtually on the halfway line.  I couldn’t have chosen better.  Thus, an excellent view of the action.

The view from (near) the halfway line.

Northampton scored early, a scrambled effort off a corner, before wasting several opportunities to extend the lead.  Then, with half time looming, an Oxford player ran onto a throughball and drove it into the bottom corner from the edge of the box, a superb finish.  Finally, the home support had something to cheer, as up till then all we heard were crowing Cobblers fans.  How Northampton would regret letting Oxford back into this gam…oh, hang on, the U’s defender has let Northampton clean through…and he’s shot through the keeper into the net.  I should think so too, Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink’s Northampton were streets ahead.  (Ironically, had Oxford won, they'd have been i a play-off position while Northampton would be in the relegation zone.  You;d never have thought it from this match.)

You could be waiting a while...

Not much happened 2^nd half.  Certainly Oxford showed no sign of equalising, despite sending on all three subs.  From a Barnsley-supporting point of view, it was great to see our loanee Alex Mowatt (reputed cost: £500k) unable to set foot on the pitch from the bench.  If he’s not good enough for Oxford, his career’s in trouble…having played 100 games for Dirty Leeds by the time he was 20, or summing.  At least former Reds' legend Marc Richards (well, he played regularly in the side wot went up from division 3 many aeons ago) came on for the Cobblers.  I dare say he's more of a legend for them, having bagged nearly 50 goals.

Cobblers!

With an 18:01 train to catch, we hopped on a bus to the city centre…which took the best part of an hour…meaning I missed said train.  Did I say this stadium is miles away?  I think on another day, this place could rival the Ricoh Stadium for most miserable matchday experience in English football.  I’ll be back only when Barnsley play here.  Thankfully, I had an overweight bald geezer wobbling his bare belly in the direction of Northampton fans, as well as stewards intermittently taking the (empty) beer bottles of U’s fans to amuse me.  I’m amazed the latter doesn’t happen more often, sneaking beers in from the drinks’ kiosks…but at least the stewards were sensible, not chucking anyone out.

The keeper gathers late on.

The Damage:

£24 ent

£13.40 train

£4 steak and ale pie

£5.60 taxi/bus

= £47

Programmes?  I saw they did exist, but never saw anywhere to buy one either inside or outside the stadium.  Still, spending £4 on a pie (my own fault for being hungry) and £24 to get in was painful enough.  I wasn’t keen to give them more of my hard earned.

The Tunes:

The Digging Remedy (Plaid)

Claustrophobia (Scuba)

Until The Hunter (Hope Sandoval)

Silence (Pete Namlook and Dr. Atmo)

Oxford v Northampton panorama.

Looking towards the Car Park End.

The Main (South) Stand.

The East Stand, home of the ultras.

'Manor Relics'

Word to the wise; calling yourself 'ultras' doesn't make you so.

That minute before Northampton went back ahead.

The Car Park End starts emptying.

A late corner for Northampton.

Shaw Lane 1-3 Mansfield Town, Saturday 4th November 2017

Shaw Lane 1-3 Mansfield Town, FA Cup 1st Round (att. 1,700)

Welcome to .....

Having followed local Barnsley side Shaw Lane’s cup exploits from afar, my fellow Londontykes and I waited with baited breath for the draw to the 1st round; a home affair and we could possibly attend. It would, we concurred, be switched to Oakwell and probably played on the Sunday, the day after the Super Reds played host to Birmingham. How wrong we were.

The home of Shaw Lane AFC too!

Shaw Lane were indeed drawn out the hat 1st, to play Mansfield Town, only it would be held at Sheerian Park (‘San Sheerian’), a local ground heretofore devoid of segregation. Good on ‘em! Even better, it was to be picked for television by Sky Sports, kick-off 12:30 on the Satdy. Hang on a minute. When does our train from London get into Barnsley? 11:30. Perfick. Let’s go.

'Courthouse Reds'...later seen at Oakwell.

Sniffer (a former Londontyke now living back in Barnsley) procured us the tickets. And from a Barnsley perspective, it was a tasty looking proposition; Mansfield were potentially fielding 4 ex-Reds: Danny Rose, a diminutive yet lively centre forward who we thought had potential, Paul Digby, a laidback ball-playing midfielder, who we thought had potential, Kane Hemmings, a forward from Scotland who scored bags of goals (showing how poor Scottish football is) and Jacob ‘ba5tard f***ing’ Mellis, one of our least favourite players of recent years. And nevermind his footballing efforts, even the mark of the man is tainted….slipping out of Oakwell quietly one time, rather than take his place in the Exec lounge to receive his MOTM award, despite being reminded several times. He had a players’ Christmas party to attend in Manchester. Wan*er.

Behind the (home) goal.

At Barnsley bus station, we managed to miss one bus to Athersley North, as a Birmingham fan asked for directions to Wetherspoons. Still, they were every 10 mins, and we boarded for the Barnsley borders. I’ve gotta say, I’m pleased I wasn’t on my own. What a mission. Up hill and down dale, before scraping through council estates on the edge of town and being told we were getting off here. I hadn’t seen hide nor hare of the ground yet. The lack of floodlights didn’t help. (Another reason why Sky switched it to 12:30?)

The teams line up.

We were due to meet another member of our party at the stadium, he having dropped his family at home after returning from New York (the life!) and jumping into a taxi. Me? I needed a p***. Those Franziskaner on the train up were starting to take effect. Thus, I was able to see the teams come out and a man dressed up as a giant duck. Shaw Lane (née ‘Shaw Lane Aquaforce’) are sponsored by a Sheffield Wednesday supporting owner of a local plumbing firm, who, far from the romantic image foisted on the nation this week, have been bankrolled through the divisions and now lie one division off the national league (north). How much money can a local plumber have?

Hi Ducky! (Possibly not his real name)

They share the ground with landlords, Athersley Rec (amateurs in the purest sense); Shaw Lane, home of Barnsley cricket and rugby is not considered scratch enough for the level they now compete. So we have the entrance on one corner. There’s a small covered paddock on the left touchline, as you enter. And for one day only, some scaffolding with seats and tables for tables for laptops. Let’s hope it does rain today – the press will have a mare. To the right as you enter is a one storey building housing the Athersley Rec club shop (they have one???) before a small covered section of seating behind the goal. Aside from the temporary open stand at the other end, housing the visitors, this was the only seating. Meantime, the other touchline had no terrace at all. Either lean against the advertising hoardings, or stand atop the scaffolding with the cameraman. No expense spared for Sky.

The media pack.

A healthy crowd of 1,700 had shown up, or more than 10 times Shaw Lane’s average crowd. Decent vantage points were thin on the ground, as folk crowded around the edge of the pitch, so we took a pitch at the far end, towards the Mansfield fans, most of whom were perched on temporary seating set up just for the game. Needless to say, Barnsley folk are never slow in coming forward when faced by teams from former mining colonies perceived to have let down the ’84 Miners’ Strike. ‘Scabs Scabs Scabs’ was met with ‘You’ll never work again’ from Mansfield. All good fun! And yours truly was able to tell Mellis he’d reached his level…before being corrected: ‘He’s still finding his level’. Yes, there’s still a few rungs he can fall, the former million pound footballer (Sheff Utd to Chelsea as a kid). A classic case of ‘too much too young’ he was one of the laziest footballers I have ever seen don the red of Barnsley FC. (I presume someone else put it on for him.)

Presumably a Sky drone, capturing the action.

Shaw Lane (number of ‘homegrown’ footballers: one – former Barnsley fullback Neil Austin) took a few minutes to get into it, but grew in confidence and went in creditably level at half time, one-all. Mansfield took the lead when a well worked move ended with a cross deflected into the path of Pearce, for a relatively easy finish, while Shaw Lane equalised when Bennett hit home a rebound.

Time to celebrate!

Half time came and I was starting to get the nibbles. Normally, I’d be heading for fish and chips pre-match, but as we were facing a dash to Oakwell after this game, that wasn’t an option. A couple of us gave it 5 mins in the 2nd half before we went hunting food. And what glory awaited! Pie and (mushy) peas, plus gravy, £2.50 all in. Bargain. Though it came at a price: a cheer went up. Sounded like a Mansfield goal to me. My companion nipped into another marquee for a drink. An even bigger cheer went up. A Shaw Lane equaliser? No. All became clear. I’d missed (possibly) the highlight of the game – Mellis had only earned himself a penalty, then missed it. Obviously SHOUTY Stags’ manager Steve Evans hadn’t kept abreast of the latest research, showing a penalty is less likely to be scored by a player who’d won said pen (‘Outside the Box’, by Duncan Alexander).

Close to the action at San Sheerian.

Getting back to my place on the terrace, the game was decided by ex-Red coulda-been Danny Rose. First, he got up above the centre half to head home (not bad for a midget) before delivering the coup de grace….a scissor kick volley from 10 yards. Not a bad way to return to the town he still lives in, and later voted goal of the round. 1-3, done and dusted, much of the home crowd headed to the exit. After our starter, it was time for the main course…and a bus back to Barnsley town centre which didn’t get me to Oakwell in time for kick-off (booo) but did get me there in time to see the Super Reds take a 2nd minute lead. Today was going to be a good day.

Mansfield celebrate the winner.

The Damage:
£10 ent
£1.50 prog
£2.50 pie and peas and gravy
£3.50 bus (A ‘Dayrrider’)
= £17.50

The Tunes:
The Dawn of Psychedelia (Various)

Shaw Lane v Mansfield panorama.

1st sighting of ground...sort of.

No mistaking which way now.

Understated ground sign on a house like my nana used to live in.

Fans entering the ground.

Never forget whose ground it actually is.

Club shop (closed).

The Main Stand?  Well, only one with seats in.

The usual press box.  Capacity: 2.

Will he / won't he deal with it?