11

Rochdale AFC 2 - 1 Bradford City FC

Journey:

Match traffic! On a Tuesday!

I joined the queue at the bottom of Roch Valley Way and crawled toward Spotland. As I got close to the ground I could see surging crowds heading towards the turnstiles. With just five minutes to spare I finally managed to find a parking space. I suspect I was probably closer to Bradford than Spotland.

At something approaching a canter I breached the Sandy turnstiles as the whistle blew.

Food:

No time for food on the way in. Events somewhat overtook me.

Through a jubilant throng of Dale fans I finally reached my regular perch.

Keane & Mitchell were back from international duties. Turner had returned from his mysterious self-enforced suspension. A surprise recall for Mrs. Mitchell - last seen at Spotland prior to the arrival of Mitchell jr. Mr. Mitchell's father in law rounded out the line-up.

When things calmed down I ventured forth to the Sandy Patisserie. Pie and a coke - Mr. Turner had a pie and a Fanta - and stiffed me for 50p. Welcome back Mr. Turner.

Weather:

Aside of the traffic on the trip to Spotland - there was another surprise. Daylight. As the game kicked off it was still light. Blue sky, festooned with heavy billows, touched with pink and gold. Most alarmingly - it was, well - warm.

Away Support:

How many came from Bradford? All of them I think.

Action:

So, finally the Bradford game.

I had been at Spotland the day of the original fixture. Customarily late, I was hustling up to the ground when I was stopped by an old woman: who told me the game was off. As is the way with these things - when I turned around to ask her why - she was gone.

This kind of thing happens in Rochdale far more than people realise.

After a spell of pretty rotten form Dale had finally got it together. Back to back wins against Rotherham and then Brentford. One point off the play-off's - games in hand. This is usually where it goes horrible.

First minute. 1-0 Dale.

I was still walking to my spot when the ball arrived at the feet of Perkins on the edge of the box. On his heels and with no options he took the obvious choice - shoot. Loach got nowhere near it.

The story of the half was that of Dale swashbuckling through a static and increasingly beleagured Bantams defence. Chance after chance came to Dale. Only poor finishing and bad luck stood between Dale and a more convincing lead.

I have recently reflected that Dale have been a little light-weight when it comes to the more physical aspects of League Two football. Not tonight. Perkins in particular was like a man posessed and only narrowly avoided a yellow card in the first period. Ramsden and Muirhead were not as fortunate in avoiding the attentions of Mr. Haines.

By no means a dirty game - but every aspect of the night was closely and firmly contested. Dale's cards were justified - but they were equally sinned against as sinners. Mr. Haines just saw things a little differently.

Half time.

A good portion of the first half had been given over to discussing Mr. Kilgour's impending stag-do. The discussion spilled over into half time. The theme is apparently Super Hero's vs Super Villain's. I thought I was onto something when I offered to be Davros - Mr. Keane even volunteered to push me around. Regrettably, this was discounted on the basis that there would probably be few evil, chair bound, megalomaniac friendly pubs in Edinburgh.

As we watched teenage girls entertain us through the medium of interpretive dance - no firm decisions were made. Other than that Mr. Turner will be Fruit Flavoured, Super Hero Based Guy.

Curtain up.

The Dale tide rolled forward. Bradford were making a better fist of things this time around but it still looked more likely that Dale would reinforce their lead.

Wrong!

On sixty minutes an ill considered challenge by Tom Kennedy saw Joe Colbeck sprawling in the area - a moment of consultation with the linesman resulted in Mr. Haines indicating the penalty spot. Peter Thorne made no mistake. 1-1.

Dale were left to rue oh so many missed chances.

A draw was really no good for either side and almost thirty minutes of end to end football ensued. Dagnall replaced Muirhead on 58 for Dale, Rhodes replaced Nix on 74 for Bradford, Le Fondre replaced a recovered and impressive Higginbotham on 79 for Dale.

1-1 - probably unfair to Dale on balance but a testement to the Bantams resilience under fire and Dales profligacy in front of goal.

And then...

87 minutes - a confused melee in the Bradford area - Thorpe's flick - Le Fondre's dragged shot. The roof came off the Sandy!

 2-1 Dale. St. Adam to the rescue.

Was it over? Oh no. Bradford went into overdrive.

The Sandy winced as the Dale net bulged - thankfully due to Lee's flailing hand as another frenzied Bantams attack was turned aside - oaths were uttered as with seconds to go Bradford crashed the ball against the Dale bar. Then the sweet, sweet sound of the whistle.

All over. 3 points. Philladelphia displaced for a play-off spot. Dale left the field to a standing ovation.

Summary:

The eastern horde swept west. 11 stood at the narrowest point. 11 fought. 11 suffered. 11 prevailed. 11...

Turner Watch:

Good to have Mr. Turner back. 50p seemed pricey though.

1/04/08