Greenock Morton 0-1 Queens Park, Tuesday 29th October 2024

Greenock Morton 0-1 Queens Park, Scottish Championship, Cappielow Park, att. 1,741 (c. 120 away)

I didn’t expect to see a first last nite at Morton. There I was, walking down the road after the match, minding my own business, when a large yoof came running past with a drum, chased by 4 or 5 other teenagers, a couple of years younger and at least 2 stones lighter. As The Big Lad doubled back round a car, he was surrounded. Now all became apparent...he was a Morton scallywag who’d somehow nicked the Queens Park drum. For a spilt second I worried what would happen. Would the Queens Park jackals set upon their prey? Would the Morton lad use his heft and knock them out, one by one? I wasn’t sure what went on, but they got their drum back, possibly due to a sensible adult or 2 intervening, no blows thrown. What japery! And respect earned amongst his mates for the Morton lad.

I was pleased I’d come. I’m away for a while from next week and I saw there were a few games on in Scotland, midweek. Tues/Weds, what are my options? Well, if I’m to stay in Glasgow, Tuesday is a no-brainer. Greenock Morton are at home and within distance. Wednesday? Well, I see Celtic are at home, and as it’s midweek there’s tickets. However, by the time I look to book, there’s only £31 ‘restricted view’ left. I’m not paying £31 for a restricted view, so I’ll be off to Paisley and St. Mirren.

I remember Morton from childhood. (They renamed themselves ‘Greenock Morton’ in 1994.) They used to be in the Scottish Premier division, but last played there in 1988, which shows how old I am. Cappielow, which Morton have resided at since 1879, is a glorious throwback in time. Down one side, the Cowshed must one of the biggest terraces left in British football, albeit with seating now planted at its front. To its right is another massive terrace, the Wee Dublin End (anything but ‘wee’), which is covered in bench seating. The Main Stand, built in 1931, has a similar pitched roof to the Cowshed. However, a worrying amount of birdsh*t is to be found amongst the seating (or is that just the away end?) The Sinclair Street End, meantime, is another decent sized terrace, open to the elements. All in all, despite a capacity of 11,589 (5,741 seated) this ground could easily fit in, or exceed, its record crowd of 23,500. Easily. The throwback in time is accentuated by a couple of tall floodlights on the Cowshed side, while the pillars of the Main Stand are cleverly utilised for floodlights on the Main Stand roof.

Mind, access is a problem. With the ground wedged inbetween a railway line and a small industrial estate, 2 sets of turnstiles on Sinclair Street have to suffice. (More turnstiles off Hamilton Street presumably mothballed till Morton return to greatness.) Away fans are housed at the far end of the Main Stand, which means walking along a narrow concourse under the stand. Presumably they don’t get trouble in the Scottish Championship, as segregation is non-existent. Maybe if they pulled a Celtic, or a Rangers, in the cup, they’d give them the Wee Dublin End and open up the turnstiles off Hamilton Road?

For the 1st half, I sat with the Queens fans. Morton were all over them for the first 20 odd minutes, so obviously Queens ran down the other end for a bald-pated Zak Rudden to score the only goal of the game, a well placed volley from a right wing cross. ‘He’s got no hair, but we don’t care, Super Zak Rudden’ the 30 or so ultras sang.

At half-time, I went to get my Scotch pie. Why don’t we have these in England? We like pies. I looked on at the gate to the Sinclair Street End, and noticed the steward opening it for a lady. I went for it. I like my stadium wanders. ‘Could I get through please?’ The steward re-opened the gate, maybe thinking I’d come from the terrace for my snack. No wonder capacity is set so low if people can wander hither and thither.

After a munch and a few pics, I settled on being high up on the terrace. However, I was soon forced to move as I could hear a Scouse bloke encouraging the home side. Scousers should be seen and not heard. (I make no apologies for my prejudice. There’s lots of things I don’t like hearing. Bagpipes, fingernails on blackboards, Foo Fighters.) I watched for a few minutes, before deciding to walk on to the Cowshed for a better view. What with the roof supports and inability to see both goals at once, it was just like The Good Old Days. Dark and atmospheric, and, despite the crowd of 1,700, quite busy. Least it was on the halfway line. And an apoplectic bloke, stood with his aged dad, who got angrier as the game disappeared from the home side. He obviously cared, but not enough to stay till full-time. I was in no rush. The train back to Glasgow from Cartsdyke (5 mins from Cappielow) wasn’t for another quarter of an hour.

The Damage:
£22 ent
£3 Scotch pie
£8.80 rtn from Glasgow
= £33.80

Shrewsbury Town 0-2 BFC, Saturday 26th October 2024

‘It’s like a curate’s egg.’

This is what it’s all about. Basking in the sun, watching (squinting!) the Reds run riot against inferior opposition. A walk around the glorious environs of Shrewsbury. Good company (and Molly!). Really, it was the perfect day. Maybe this was what Lou Reed was singing about all those years ago. An away trip to Shrewsbury. (Lou would have loved ‘Gay Meadow’!)

This was a dominant Reds performance, up there with Crawley away. Only a cynic would suggest that Shrewsbury and Crawley will be leaving this division downwards before we get promoted, and thank goodness I’m not one of those. Indeed, what kind of person would point out that the Super Reds only win against absolutely dreadful opposition? (5 wins against the bottom 9, 1 win against the top 15, a flukey away win at Lincoln.)

We murdered Shrewsbury, and yet, as half-time loomed, it was goalless. Watters had spurned the best chance, going clean through and miscuing it wide. But, cometh injury time, cometh the man, as Super-dooper party pooper Jonny Russell let’s Connell’s hook back go over his shoulder before swinging a leg and putting it in the top corner. Plattyesque. (Belgium, Italia 90, though Molly disagrees with my hyperbole. But at the very least, a 3rd division version of that Three Lions classic.) The Shrews response is a 25 yarder beaten away by Kilip, in for the dropped Slow Nina.

Second half was more of the same. Late arrivals from half time pints missed it, as Watters cut inside and neatly buried it in the bottom right corner from 12 yards. Quality finish. Then Connell pings a ball to Watters that the latter takes magnificently in his stride and he’s clean through. Not sure he needed the extra touch though, and the keeper saves. DKD misses another chance and, as a Shrews fan said to us later, ‘Youse never get out of 1st gear, did you?’ It was THAT comfortable.

Mind, we still gave them 2 potshots at our goal, which I think may have beaten Kilip had they not smashed into our defenders’ heads (one was certainly Roberts). Jalo came on too, and managed to get himself injured within a minute. I shouldn’t laugh.

Onwards and upwards!

*** Russell. Instrumental in many a move as his touches continually found Reds players going forward. Oh, and he scored. It was like Platty for England in the World Cup. Did I mention it!?
** Connell. The game was won in central midfield, Luca breaking with the ball.
* Roberts. Sound defensively.

Londontykes’ MOTM: 1. Russell 2. Gent 3= Connell/Humphreys/Roberts/Watters

Despatches:
I try not to bury the ref too much, but when he has words with a couple of pairs of jostling players at a corner, then keeps said pair of players right under his eyeballs, and STILL manages to miss one of them completely rugby tackling an attacking player to the ground (Roberts) I despair. For the record, it happened at every corner 1st half (cos it was right in front of us) but the first was the most blatant.

Kilip justified his pick, and it was nice to see POTY Cotter encourage the keeper to lead the fans at the end. MdG brought the ball out well. After a slow start, O’Keefe improved as the game went on. I still don’t understand why POTY Cotter doesn’t start, but he came on and went on a trademark 30 yard run. Gent continues to improve, and might yet make a left wingback (if we play Shrewsbury every week). For a 9ft bloke, Pines wasn’t as dominant as he ought to be. Needs not to misjudge where the ball actually is. I didn’t really notice Humphreys, very quiet, while DKD flitted in and out but showed some sublime touches. And Watters. If we ignore the 2 misses when he was clean through, he was outstanding. More please.

Oh, and the Remembrance Day bugler. What is it about the Remembrance Day buglers in division 3? The most solemn two minutes of the season (every season) shouldn’t end up in a ground full of smirks as the bugler bugles like Les Dawson used to play piano. (Quick bit of maths) If there’s 92 league teams, that’s 46 matches. If they all kicked off simultaneously (which they don’t) we need a MAXIMUM of 46 people able (and willing) to play a bugle. How can we not manage that? A nation OBSESSED with honouring our fighting forces. As it is, with games spread over a weekend, you probably don’t need more than 30. We don’t have 30. I understand that there’s pressure involved…there’s thousands of spectators at Shrewsbury versus Barnsley FC (6, to be precise) but if you can’t find a buglar to hit the right notes in homage to The Fallen, don’t bother. Just press play on a recording. Cos I shouldn’t be hearing the sound of sniggering. I shouldn’t.

Drink du jour: Bodega Bay West Coast IPA in the Henry Tudor. What a FANTASTIC pub this is.

Away: 713

The Damage:
£25 ent
c.£22 petrol (a £65 tank divided by 3 games, TNS with Moll on Thurs, Colwyn Bay Fri, and today.)
= £47