Spennymoor Town 1-3 Darlington, Tuesday 20th December 2022

Spennymoor Town 1-3 Darlington, FA Trophy 3rd Round, The Brewery Field, att. 1,005

One advantage of the recent freeze is that Satdy’s big FA Trophy derby game (big by the standards of County Durham) was postponed, allowing me to come to the re-arranged fixture the following post-thaw Tuesday. Maybe Kev would be up from Ashton? Yes, he was, looking after his ma. Would Joe be out? No, alternative ‘duties’. What is it with these people, prioritising family at Christmas time?

My first mission was to bag a ticket. For such a high profile fixture, there’d be no tickets on the day, a sign of the festering ill-feeling between these two sides since Darlo’s reformation in the Northern League. 3 promotions later, you’d think both sides would be in a happier place. Durham Constabulary were here in double figures tonite (ok, I counted ten). Thus, inbetween ‘duties’ of my own (dropping stuff off at the charity shop, buying porridge at Asda) I called in at the social club within the Brewery Field to purchase my ticket. ‘Do you have any proof of address?’ Eh? ‘No……well, I do, I have my driver’s licence, which shows my previous address in London. But you can test me on the streets of Ferryhill (next door to Spenny). Not Spenny though, I don’t know Spenny too well.’ ‘’Oh, ok. Just checking you’re not a Darlo fan.’ I’d have thought they’d be grateful for the custom either way.

I parked up at the back of the town hall and enjoyed a walk to the ground. There were few people in the (still cold) streets. Would there be anybody at the ground? Although 20 minutes early, it seemed most fans were already in, certainly in the away ‘end’, an open terrace which runs the length of the far touchline, interrupted by a gantry for the TV camera. Programme purchased, I nipped into the social club for a quick beer. Alongside the drudge of Carling and Coors they had some craft ales in cans. I’ll take one. Well, it was that or WKD Blue mixed with Caffreys, a round of which was being purchased at the adjacent till.

Wolfing my drink down while watching a bit of the darts on the big screen, I ventured out to find a spot. Behind the goal is a small covered terrace, with a propped roof. I figured it’d be nice and cosy in there, and it was till a young lad started talking to me in a broad Yorkshire accent. Spenny fell behind to two early goals and were, to all intent, out of it. My new mate was slating them good and proper. ‘They don’t care. There’s no passion. They’re not trying.’ Turned out he was one of their latest signings, albeit cup-tied tonite. ‘I’d have smashed him there’ he cheerfully pointed out as Darlo forward Hazel turned the defender before finding the opposite corner for the 2nd. Anyway, I hope this new lad is as good as he thinks he is. He’s certainly not short of confidence, for a player sent out on loan.

The first goal came from a half volleyed scoop over the top of the cumbersome centre half and midfielder Lambert got there ahead of the defender to lift it over the keeper. Quality ball, quality finish. So obviously a row broke out to my life over whose fault it was. It’s ok saying the keeper was in no-mans land, but when the defender should’ve been favourite for the ball and came second…..well. The second was as sweet a move as you’re likely to see, as Darlo passed their way through Spenny, starting from their own half, before the ball was driven home from the edge of the box. No wonder the players milked the celebrations, incurring the ire of the home fans. 14 minutes in and the game looked as good as over. Darlington were different class, not that my mate agreed. ‘But there’s a reason they’re top of the league and Spenny are 19th’ I told him.

By half an hour in, the game was up. This time it did look a comedy of errors. A deflected shot drops to the edge of the area, where the keeper runs out to his favourite position (no-man’s land). Only this time the defender gets a leg to it first, looping the ball to the left of the box where Hazel volleys a bobbler towards goal which a defender hoofs into the roof of the net. We are 29 minutes in and local honours are decided. It becomes a case of ‘how many?’ until Darlo take the foot off the gas second half and allow a consolation, the striker nicking ahead of a defender and toe poking it past a wrong-footed keeper.

By now I’m chatting to a Boro fan whose been dragged along by his young son. ‘We have Wigan at home, then Blackburn away on the 29th’. ‘Wrong way round’ interjects another fan. ‘No it isn’t.’ ‘Yes it is, I know, I’ve got tickets.’ Turns out our interloper is a Sunderland fan and they’re both right. I ask the latter where Spenny got this Ramshaw from, up front. ‘He’s always been here. Been here years. He’s shite.’ Ten seconds later he’s named MOTM. He WAS shite, mind. One goal in 20 this season.

The Damage:
£15 ent
£2.50 programme
£3.80 can of wheat beer (440ml)
= £21.30

The Tunes:
Octopus (Bees)

St. Neots 3-1 Darlington 1883, Saturday 15th November 2014

‘Three wash basins, one hand dryer.  Always.  Why?’

'Box Office Sales'?  Optimistic.

Unable to watch my beloved Barnsley due to an international weekend (see later) I’d looked around the lower division fixture list and plumped for Bristol Rovers in the Conference.  However, as often as this happens in Finsbury Park, I received an even better offer the night before – Darlo were playing down south, St. Neots in the FA Trophy (I’d looked up Darlo’s fixture weeks ago and it was Northwich or somesuch; it pays to keep up sometimes!)

Would I like to go?  Of course I would!  I hadn’t seen my 2^nd team since….well, I guess it was a Conference game if it was Hayes (and Yeading) away in Woking.  Previous to that, they’d been triumphant at Wembley in the FA Trophy, which seems a long time ago.

Main Stand, side view.

We set off from Finsbury Park around half twelve for a 48 minute journey to St. Neots.  I’d heard of the place, but never seriously knew for sure where it was.  Cambridgeshire is your answer (I think).  It’s near Cambridge, anyway.  I trusted to Kev how to find the ground.  Problem solved as we climbed the steps at the station – it’s right next door.  The plan to have a beer in the town centre went by the wayside though, that was apparently a walk away.  Do they have a clubhouse selling beer?  But of course – pay your tenner to get into the ground and the social club is all yours.  The 15 – 20 early birds were mostly Darlo and a few club reps.

The clubhouse was most welcoming, though one of the two TV screens showing Plymouth-Pompey was a bit blurred.  Problies for the best.  We got our pints in (one IPA, one Stella, pls) and sat on some huge leather sofa the like of which couldn’t fit through my front door.  Very nice.  Also, a view of the pitch…or half a pitch.  I consider this a bit of a design flaw, as was the huge chunk of walkway right in front of the stand which would obscure one’s view if sat down.  A bit of yellow painted on the floor doesn’t stop people walking in front, since the only entrance to the ground is the corner nearest said stand.  ‘Non-league new ground of the year (2006)’ said a plaque from Groundtastic behind the bar.  Still, it lived up to its name: ‘The Cozy Stadium’ née Rowley Park.

Electronic scoreboard - bit flash!

We ventured out looking for a spot, the crowd more than double the usual gate.  ‘Big team, Darlington’ I heard more than once today.  We elected to walk through past the small covered terrace to the far side, where we could happily lean on the fence overlooking the pitch, about two yards behind the touchline.  Grand!  And 5 minutes after kick off we had our ‘reward’ – Darlo’s stand-in centre half (usually the centre forward) making his bid for not being picked there again by putting up his dukes to the Saints’ centre forward.  Apparently, he made no contact, but I (and everyone else) was following the ball not the men.  So well done linesman – he wouldn’t have had him sent off were he not sure.  (I mean it.)

The teams line up in front of the Main Stand

Thereafter, you’d be hard pushed to tell it was 11 v 10, as both sides attacked and had chances but we crept in 0-0 at HT.  Mind, I was already in the loo (and out again) in time for snatching another pint in the clubhouse.  Not even a queue, marvellous.  Then, for reasons known only to Kev, as it p***ed it down on the pitch, we elected to stand on the terrace Darlo were defending.  No standing in the open now!

Just so's you know...

In the end, Darlo lost 3-1.  Valiant though the effort was, it took a fabulous goal to break the deadlock after 70 minutes, as their man cut inside and curled a beauty into the top corner from 20 yards.  Unstoppable.  Surely Neots were through.  But Darlo struck back after 77 mins, a neat finish from a neat pass.  The Darlo hordes in the home end (me and Kev) went wild, while everyone else just laughed.  Hope yet of a replay.  Hope extinguished within 30 seconds of the restart as a teasing cross from the left was headed home and the light was firmly put out when a backpass was picked up and laid off for the centre forward to score a tap-in.  Oh well – Darlo can concentrate on getting back up through the leagues, where they’ve won the last 9 (nine).

While the Neotians (?) shuffled off home, the driving rain meant it would have been rude to rule out another beer.  So a couple of pints, a chat with a Cambridge fan who doesn’t do away matches and half an hour of half watching an England game on the telly, wondering whothehell the right back is.  The good news was it wasn’t Glen Johnson.

'I was THIS close to the play' (narrows gap between finger and thumb).

Attendance: 715

Damage:
£10 ent
£2 programme
£12.60 beer (4 pints of IPA and Stella)
£16 travel (plus £15 ‘lost tickets’)

Bike shed?  Bus shelter?

‘Later’:  Your team gets relegated to the 3^rd tier of English football.  You consider one of the upsides being no more matches postponed ‘due to international call ups’.  You forget one of your club’s directors is a head honcho at the FA and would probably like to enjoy the beano of a day out at Wembley.  So obviously, when England play on Saturday at 5pm, your team will elect to play a game against a side far far away (or Colchester as it’s known) on a FRIDAY night.  Not even a Satdy lunchtime, or a Sunday.  Friday.  Lord help us.

It's raining goals.  And rain.

Dulwich Hamlet 3 - 0 Chalfont St Peter, Saturday 1st November 2014

This was a bit different.  Where else could I set off from home at 2:20 for a 3pm kick-off?  (ok, aside from Millwall)  It was time to cycle to my local(est) non-league side, Dulwich Hamlet, for a FA Trophy 1^st Qualifying Round game.  Having lived within the proximity of Dulwich for nigh on 5 years, it’s problies a bit of a disgrace that I’d yet to visit Champion Hill (the ground) even when I lived off Champion Hill (the area).  Next door Sainsbury used to be my local supermarket and proved the ideal spot to park my bike today.

Welcome to the Pleasuredome!

By 10 to 3, I was in.  Only a couple of turnstiles open, which was more than enough.  £10.  Makes a change.  Greeted upon the inside by smiling people.  Makes a change.  Programme bought, £2.  Mainly ads, but at least I was able to work out that Chalfont were from Bucks, Beds or Middlesex, given some previous league they’d been in.  I’d never heard of this place before, but they’d beaten Hamlet 3 times in 5 previous games.  Who knew?

And...STRETCH!

Come on you pink and blues!

Even more gloriously, they have an open-to-all clubhouse with a fine view of the pitch.  Normally, one can apparently buy a beer and wander out onto the terrace, though FA rules forbid that today.  (I’ve no idea what these rules are, just that the tannoy announcer told me.)  One could still stay IN and have a beer though.  A bit like having your own executive box.  We elected for a place in their swanky new stand, shifting some old bloke on crutches to do so.  The other 3 sides had a narrow terrace, with a small covered stand opposite.  The Dulwich Ultras (‘Dultras’!) took their place behind the goal Hamlet kicked towards, their pink and blue coloured scarves in preponderance.  I’m having one of them, I thought.

The clubhouse view

For some reason this reminds me of Gus Poyet.

I have to admit, I was quietly impressed with the whole occasion.  Decent crowd, actual chanting from the Dultras (30 or so) and 2 teams trying to play the ball on the floor.  Hamlet obviously had the edge, being just that little bit too quick for the opposition.  The right winger in particular could pretty much do what he liked, while the centre forward was bigger and quicker than his opponent.  Only a lack of understanding at times prevented a hammering.  In the end, it was 3-0.  A tap-in from yet another right wing cross, a first time hit from an onrushing forward and a 3^rd which….I can’t remember, but it was in the 2^nd half.  Shoulda been 4-0 too, if the centre forward had the brains not to stand forward of the guy who laid it on a plate for him.  Disallowed for offside.

Late scramble in front of the Dultras

Afterwards, having seen Sky Sports in the clubhouse, we elected to have a beer and follow the results.  However, I/we get a bit growly when we don’t get served quick enough.  I don’t mind the 1^st guy buying 10 pints (which he did), but I do mind bar men who ask ‘who’s next?’ when they should know exactly who’s next.  Thus, ignored for a later fella, and the other 3 bar lads at the other end, we left.  Still handy, for we were able to beer it at the Brick Brewery (Peckham), where we had a lager (‘if you must’), followed by strawberry daiquiris at BarStory.  Not my normal after match drink and it certainly made a change from being on a train for god knows how many hours.  And we were home for ‘Strictly’ – hurrah from one of us, leastways!

sunset over Dulwich

Attendance: 433
Away: maybe 2, judging by the ‘noise’.  

Damage:
£10 entrance
£2 programme
£1 poppy