Derby County 4-1 BFC, Sunday 6th May 2018

‘Accrington Stanley, we’re coming for you.’

Welcome to .....

So it is.  The inevitable inevitably happened and we’re down.  We could blame Derby, for slamming us.  Or Forest, for failing at Bolton.  Or Bolton, for succeeding against Forest.  Or the ref at home to Bolton, for THAT decision (and those other indecisions).  But let’s face it, we simply haven’t been good enough.  The writing was on the wall last January (2017).  We lost Hourihane and Bree (…and Winnall)…later lost Scowen and Watkins and Roberts…and we’ve replaced them with (in no particular order) Potts, Williams, Barnes, Thiam, Moncur and Lindsay, not to mention about 30 others (we’ve had the most players of any club in the Championship).  Says it all.  We’ve given nearly 40 players a trot out at this level and few, if any, are good enough.  (Though 'trot' was probably the right word.  Carthorses.  Donkeys.  Asses.)  How fitting that in a match where victory would save us, we didn’t turn up.

Relegation beckons.

Optimism was low and spirits were high in the pub beforehand.  No, we hadn’t a cat in hell’s chance of winning, but so what?  The sun was shining, whiskeys were being drunk at half nine in the morning (welcome to Wetherspoons!) and we weren’t officially down yet. ‘You never know’ was the order of the day, as we dreamt of Bolton managing to do what they’ve done most of the season and fail.  Do the unthinkable (win) and we stay up on 44 points, surely a record.  The Sunday morning alcoholics, surprised at the early influx of dozens of customers with Barnsley accents, wished us luck.

Ice cream, sun, Greggs....is this what heaven looks like?

It was a hot, hot day in Derby, so good job we were in the shade.  2,700 (sold out) and bad news for Neil, who’d rocked up on the offchance of getting a ticket.  Further bad news:  he got one; someone’s mate was ill.  This was after being quoted £100 by a Derby fan in town.  I told him he could have mine for £100!  Farnham met me in a city centre pub having walked from Pride Park.  He looked destroyed in the heat, so, despite the weather, after a beer, we jumped in a taxi to the ground.

Fireworks...in the sun.  Go figure.

Upon entering the away end, it was a cauldron of noise.  The bar was packed, and we fought our way through to our seats, along with Reedy.  I even made kick off.  I didn’t want to miss a minute!  And it was fortunate I did, as for that 14 minutes, you could see Derby (needing a point to secure a play-off place) were absolutely BRICKING it, misplacing passes all over the place under little or no pressure.  So thank goodness for Conor ba5tard Mahoney, on loan piece of uselessness from AFC Bournemouth.  We have a corner, he swings it in and hits the 1^st defender, Shukeresque.  No matter, the ball has come back to him.  He loses it trying to take the player on, Derby run straight up the other end and score.  OK, they had to run 70 yards, but with most of our team in THEIR box cos we were trying to SCORE, we couldn’t get back in time and Derby always had a man extra.  At least I’ll have something to remember this pr*ck by.  Good riddance.

Us and them.

Derby scored again, 2-0…but hang on…it’s been disallowed.  No idea what for, though apparently handball.  A mild stay of execution for the Super Reds, we go in at half time, 1-0.  We were arguably the better side, but without looking like scoring. Kiefer was blocked off going for a header (has ‘obstruction’ officially been erased from the rulebook?) but otherwise, it was as it was at Oakwell, Derby winning without any effort whatsoever.  The half times come in; Preston are beating Burton (hurrah!) and Bolton are being held (double hurrah!).  We are still outside the relegation zone, somehow.

The teams come out.

We come out 2^nd half and collapse.  Derby pass and move, we watch, and it’s 2-0.  Two becomes three, becomes four.  We’ve still got 20 minutes plus injury time.  The players have given up.  We might as well stick Sky on the big screen (instead of the current match) cos this game means nothing now, other than a chance for Derby to rack up a cricket score.  Our chances are firmly in the hands of other teams.  Worse, Preston have had a man sent off. Worser, Burton have equalised.  We’re down.  After all, what do Preston have to play for anyway, knowing we’re getting slammed means they can’t eke above Derby.  (They have PRIDE to play for, and do indeed go on to win 2-1.PRIDE.  Imagine.)
By now, Derby are taunting us with ‘Accrington on a Tuesday night’, to which the instant response is ‘Accrington Stanley, we’re coming for you.’  By now, it is impossible to get updates on our phones, as 4G might as well be 1D.  Rumours abound and news of Preston’s second spreads.  ‘Come on Preston, Come on Preston!’ I refuse to sing.  Derby chant something along the lines of ‘you spawny ba5tards, you’re still staying up.’  If only.

Match action, Derby actually FAILING to score.

By now Moncur is on and he nonchalantly pops one into the top corner from 20 yards as if Derby have joined us in giving up. At least the fans haven’t: ‘5-4, we’re gonna win 5-4’ nobody believed.  Not even Jose.  Both teams go through the motions till full time and a silence envelopes the away end.  Have we gone down? Who knows?  There’s rumour and counter rumour.  The players’ reactions look as if we’re down; only really Hammill comes anywhere close to the away end.  Probably for the best.  The Adam Hammill Appreciation Society sings him off the pitch as our hero is visibly distraught. More than me, to tell the truth.  This relegation has looked on the cards for months.  Adam: so long, and thanks for all the fish.

Adam waves a last goodbye.

I didn’t properly find out Bolton had won till I left.  I’m pleased I didn’t know they were losing when I was in the ground; it’s the hope that kills you.  Nevermind knowing they'd bagged in the 87th and 88th minutes to seal survival.  Good luck, no hard feelings, etc.  We had beer to quaff, sorrows to drown, and it was 4 pubs before we could do that, despite various Derby fans offering consoling ‘don’t worry, you’ll be back.’  Yes, whatever I might think of us as a Championship side, we might be quite well set up for division 3.  And Jose’s gone.  Thank heavens for that.  Our worst appointment in a long time.

Onwards and upwards!

*** Hammill.  At least gave a s***.  Ran around all day from centre mid looking for gaps.  His run led to Moncur’s goal.
** Gardner.  Played well till we were overrun.
* Walton.  Caught a couple, saved a couple, but couldn’t do much against players 4 yards out.

A friendly fence, separating the fans outside.

Despatches:
As well as the 2,700 at (No) Pride Park, I can’t believe 3,000 watched a live beamback to Oakwell. I wonder what it was like there? Did they know the other scores??

I was really struggling for a top 3.  Everyone was s*** in their own way.  And did I really see Thiam come on?  How can a centre forward, bought for so much money, paid so much money, fail to score in open play the entire season?  Let’s hope the 3^rd division is more accommodating.  I'm off to spend my £60 of winnings.  You Reds!!!!!!!!!!

Drink du jour: Erdinger, Stella, vodka and orange.  It’s a wonder I didn’t end up in a fight. 

The Damage:
£26 ent

Programme?  Never saw one on sale.

Away: 2,700.  A great effort from all.  Players take note.

The Tunes:

Microshift (Hookworms)

Pride Park panorama.

Monument commemorating the site of the old Baseball Ground.

Come on you ewes!

The Old #7 gets its flag up.

Just get Sky on!

Resigned to defeat...and relegation?

Farewell, Adam.

We'll always love you!

Derby County 2-1 BFC, Saturday 4th March 2017

‘He is OUR Michael Carrick’ (Stephen McPhail - LOL!)

An in-house Greggs.  What's not to like!?

Bad start to the day.  I arrive half an hour before the train and enjoy a greasy caff.  So when I call in at Kings X to withdraw cash (I know the Captain doesn’t like debt owed to him) I misjudge time and when I rock up to St P for a 10:58 train it’s 10:56 (and a half) and it’s last orders on boarding.  Even worse, our ticket is some kind of threesome, all or none.  Not the kind of threesome I’d ever dreamed of.  I’d always imagined I was Dogtanian to my friends’ Porthos, Athos and Aramus.  To my compadre, my 2together buddy, my bodyguard (Oldham away, last season) I can only apologise.  I’m an idiot.

Nearly there.

Then we offski to Derby.  I haven’t been here since we were in the Premiership. Which was….well, a long time ago. I remember one corner of the stadium was open in those days.  I had to ask Andy which corner it was.  He’d no idea – we get shunted around every time we come.  Nice ground, but that’s the thing: they’re all the same these places; without a fixed point, they look identical, save for the colour of the seats.  Derby, Leicester, Cov, Soton et al…you know who you are.  And the last time I came here, all that existed between the station and (No) Pride Park was wasteland. Now, it is all industrial units and Frankie and Benny’s.  A wasteland, then.  Still, a more pleasant walk this time as we followed the river.

Them and us.

Actually, I do have one regret.  (I have many, so this is merely one of them.)  One year, I’d arranged to be picked up for a Xmas/New Year game at the old Baseball Ground, but I got terribly ‘tired and emotional’ and my alarm had to be sacked for dereliction of duty.  That was the last time we played at Derby’s legendary old ground.  The modern plasticity makes it no better, though I am slightly assuaged by the thought that DCFC still have to play us when their 30,000 crowds say something else.  Which brings me to think: is there nothing to do in Derby? while Reedy and every other Reds fan in the stadium wonder, if there’s so many of ‘em why is the atmosphere so s***?  I had to wonder whether cursory chants about their ‘mams and dads (being) scabs’ was some cunning Reds’ ruse to tease some passion out of them there Derby.  Though experience shows they DO wake up when they score.  Then they shut up again, bless.

Maybe circa 1975

But, tis true, they won.  Two goals to one.  I’m not sure how.  We ran the roost for 40 mins (nil-nil) before they woke up for the last 5 mins of the 1^st time.  (Secretly, I was pleased; it gets a bit tiresome when the action is at the other end.)  Armstrong in particular looked lively early on.  We really should have pressed the advantage.  Oh well.

As we contemplated not going in at HT at least one goal ahead, we nick the lead in rudimentary fashion early 2nd half; Roberts’ long throw is headed home by James.  (Pompey) Ian is a genius; he wondered earlier why we don’t use this tactic more often.  (I bet he doesn’t remember saying this, but he did).  All our hard work and slick moves, and it takes a 30 yard throw to give us the lead.  Oh well.  Pompey makes a break for the toilet and I follow (yeah yeah).

The Super Reds celebrate.

We return to a bellicose ‘Barns-ser-lee, Barns-ser-lee, Barns-ser-lee’.  I just know Derby have equalised.  They have.  I might have even seen it had I not had the temerity to wash my hands.  Standards, eh? Who needs ‘em?  Allegedly it’s a scramble in the box and Ince prods one home.  ‘Your dad’s a cnut, and so are you.’  Anyone who used to visit Peterboro in the days of their terrace will recognise that one.  Catchy.  La la la la….la la la la.  And there’s not enough chants with the c-bomb in it, is there?

They're here, they're there, they're .....at Derby.

Thereafter, Derby rule.  Pompey (him again) puts it down to Butterfield coming on for them and playing some kind of deep lying Hourihane role.  Couldn’t we buy him back with the Hourihane/Bree/Mawson money?  A pre-match applaud from Jacob shows what Hourihane will (already does?) realise; he is better off in a team who will APPRECIATE him, who will actually PLAY him.  Where the fans love him. Or sit on the bench at Derby earning 4 times as much.  The irony.  Only in football do you get paid MORE for producing LESS.  I’d have him back in a shot.

Is this the Pride Park (Ipro?) extension?

Anyway, they have all the play, create a few snippets, and make Davies tip 2 or 3 over….before Hecky makes a game changing sub.  Kent and Mowatt come on for our forward line (Bradshaw and Armstrong).  To the uninitiated, it looks like we’re playing for the draw.  But we know switching Marley up front, and having more energy in midfield will make the difference.  It does – they go up the other end and score.  I still think the right back (the Everton bloke?) doesn’t deal with it, allowing it to bounce and Nugent hits a snapshot winner.  Fair play to the goal-a-game former England striker (if you can’t remember the goal, look it up on youtube!) as he buries it with aplomb, deflection or not.  We lose, it’s one of those games.  We rule one half, fail to take advantage, they run the other and do.  Lesson learnt.

Game in progress, fans leaving in hordes.  Eh???

***.  Roberts Immense.  Won headers, intercepted balls, covered others.  Set up our goal with amazing trickery from wide right (threw a ball a long way).
** MacDonald.  As above, minus the trickery.  Worked great as a pair.
* James.  I was saying to Andy, he impressed 1^st half…then he scores..

Londontykes' Top 3:
1. Roberts  2= James/MacDonald

Despatches:
Yiadom was poor today.  Do the fullbacks take turns?  Jones played well, tho missed a late chance to whip a ball across goal.  Talking of which, Kent nearly equalised after coming on, hitting a decent effort with his weaker right.  Hamill played well, without dribbling past everyone and scoring a 30 yarder (which is what some people who’d rather go and watch Hartlepool v Exeter today might say).  Davies never put a foot wrong.  Some good saves and no chance with the goal I saw.  (If I never saw the 1^st goal, does that mean it never happened…which meant neither did the second…so actually, we won.  YOOOOUUUU REDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)  Andy says no, it does not mean that.  Dammit.

Scowen surprised me today.  He didn’t track back for a ball and they nearly scored from his half-arsedness.  Bradshaw had some good touches but faded, while Armstrong continues to be the centre forward version of Kent (on loan, flatters to deceive, but if you watch him enough, produces very little).  Just saying – no need for the hate mail.

And Wadd, I’m with you – good luck completing the 92.  You’re not missing much not going to Derby.  And besides, we’ll be playing them again next season.  See you at Morecambe in a few weeks!!!!!!!!!!!!

And so it stayed.

Drink du jour: Maisel Weiss in the Derby CAMRA pub 2016 and 2017.  No idea what it’s called, but turn right outside the train station (actually, ‘railway station’; the Captain tells me ‘train station’ is an Americanism).  Anyway, turn, right, walk down the sidewalk, cross the freeway and it’s there.  And there’s a booze express or somesuch by the station for those necessary vodka and cokes for the way back.  For when Andy ejects an old lady from her seat and spends the rest of his journey feeling guilty.  He is Raskolnikov incarnate.

Away: 1500+.  A tremendous turnout, inc the West Stand Bogs crew who’d walked from Barnsley, setting off yesterday.  Thus far, I have no knowledge on whether Master Hicks bled his feet in some named set of shoes this time, or whether he learnt his lesson at Bradford.  Problies the former. 

You Reds!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Damage:
26 train
17.60 (very specific, but if you bought 4 tickets in advance, you got 20% off, or summink.  Either way, well done Derby.)
3 prog
= £46.60

The Tunes:
Among My Swan (Mazzy Star)

Match panorama

Full time panorama

Welcome to ...

The Derby dugout.  Steve Bloomer watches on.

Match action.