Stanley Cup

Rochdale AFC 0 - 1 Philadelphia Flyers

Journey:

Today marked the great Rochdale fan drive. £10 in with a voucher. A great offer which I am certain would have upped the attendance - had anyone been able to get near the ground.

Sudden roundabout strikes again!

Once again Sudden's infamous traffic blackspot has taken the weekend off and decided to become a chicane instead. With Roch Valley Way closed the only option was to go via Spotland bridge. I joined the queue at Tweedale Street.

After 20 minutes of patiently crawling towards Rochdale I became aware that a large number of cars were bombing down the outside lane and then bulldozing their way into the left lane to take the left turn. Personally - I am a letter innner - much to the fury of wife and friends. However, after this had happened 2-3 times and only 10 minutes remained to kick-off, my generosity gave out.

I particularly enjoyed the mute fury of the young man who had tried to barge in in front of me to find that I can behave like a miserable, self-interested imbecile as well.

Food:

Diet coke and two pies. I have some asbestos gloves on order and will give the coffee another go once they arrive. Mr. Turner opted for the cheeseburger and a Fanta. Mr. Mitchell was characteristically secretive about his noshings.

You have probably noticed by now that our ever present utility scoffer is absent from the starting line-up. Regrettably, after bidding him a hearty good evening as we departed our gentlemans club on Friday night, m'colleague became involved in an unfortunate disagreement over a taxi. Some unpleasantness followed resulting in an unscheduled trip to the ground for the good Mr. Keane. Fortunately, no serious harm resulted - however, he felt it better to remain on his sofa today.

Weather:

Friday night had been marked by vicious winds in the environs of Rochdale. Saturday morning was characterised by bits of tree, roof and wheelie-bins galore decorating the highways of the borough. Saturday was breezy and chilly. The game would be played out under a grand grey marbled ceiling.

Away Support:

Over 200 - perhaps 300. A good showing considering what they are obliged to watch every week. Largely silent throughout - well - until the 89th minute when they put on a passably good impersonation of Michael Caines legendary foes.

Action:

A win at Spotland has been a rare thing indeed since Christmas. Mr. Hill went on record in the week expressing his frustration after the very disappointing result of the Wycombe game. It was clear at kick-off that Mr. Hill meant business. Gone was the natty man-about-town look seen in recent weeks - back came training ground attire. Although the change did provoke some heated debate - it seemed for all the world that Mr. Hill was wearing tights. Answers on a post card please. I have recently reflected that a strong defence has been the key for teams visiting Spotland. The endlessly classy Peterborough, the clinical Wycombe. The Spirites had clearly seen these performances and taken note.

It is often said that the only way out of the bottom division - is to kick your way out. Chesterfield had absorbed this axiom with relish - adding push, pull, drag and trip to their repertoire for good measure.

Dale started the game in typical style. Pressing forward with pace and an attractive array of passing. Chances came but were extiguished by the Spirites mirthless eleven man defence. For their part Chesterfield did generate a handful of opportunities - but they were mostly satisfied to contain Dale's efforts. The sight of Dale players sprawling in the mud or flying through the air became more and more common. The efforts of the newly streamlined Lee Thorpe and the ever effervescent Rene Howe were largely nullified by the fact that for most of the half they were giving the Chesterfield centre halves piggy-backs.

As half time was indicated by Mr. Oliver of Northumberland - Dale were very much in the ascendency - they just had nothing to show for their endeavour. That is if you exclude a handsome crop of bruises.

In recent reports I have discussed The Golden Gamble (No. 936 this week for any interested parties); oddly inappropriate mascots; the people who stand near me (I am delighted to report that 'Get off my train' was back in pride of place this week). This week - as I watched a group of desultry youths trudged round the pitch holding up the afore mentioned magic number - I wondered what ever happened to the halcyon days of half time games?

Who could fail to thrill at 'kick the ball through a very small hole in a plastic sheet'; 'kick the ball into the net from increasingly improbable distances' (which my associate Mr. Turner once took part in) or my own personal favourite 'kick the ball into a standard RMBC, plastic, household bin'. Come on Rochdale AFC! Lets have some games at half time! Otherwise we will end up talking about shark's sleeping habits again.

The second half began in gathering gloom accompanied by a thin, pitiless drizzle. Unbowed by the agricultural tactics of Chesterfield, Dale came out with the desire to win the game by playing football. The Spirites, delighted by their first half performance stuck with the ice hockey format. The second half was a genuinely dismal affair. Dale had more of the ball and created some very good chances, but the ball seemed to delight in bobbling away from a swinging Dale foot, dropping into no-mans-land or pinging off a Chesterfield shirt. Even the introduction of the mercurial Le Fondre on 58 minutes (replacing Howe - presumably due to back ache) didn't generate a break through.

Chesterfield offered almost nothing for the majority of the half - save for an occaisional long ball pumped up the middle. Belatedly, Mr Oliver took some interest in the Spirites 'tactics' and a few yellow cards were presented. Too little, too late.

With five minutes remaining it seemed that a draw was the most likely outcome. Dale made a couple of token substitutions and we all waited for the clock to run down. Then, as if by magic Chesterfield woke up and started to play. Oh dear.

An ill judged tackle from Stanton earned the Spirites a free kick on the edge of the Dale area - the resulting melee delivered another free kick for Chesterfield in almost the same spot. Up stepped Leven and either under or through the wall, the ball was in the back of the net. 1-0 Chesterfield. I felt sick.

Summary:

Chesterfield's tactics were in truth disgusting. I haven't seen a display of cynical football like this in years. The referee simply failed to control things - yes, he handed out a few cards - but only when things had gone far too far. Chesterfield were appauling, they weren't interested in playing football and had plainly come with the intention of throttling the game into a turgid draw. But...

In the face of this - Dale simply didn't do enough to win the game. They had lots of possession and created a string of good chances. Few of them however, were clear cut - fewer seriously troubled the Chesterfield keeper. There is an old football cliche about 'cutting edge' or if you like 'killer instinct' - Dale didn't have it today and suffered badly for its loss.

Turner Watch:

Mr Turner spent todays game dressed in a charming blue gingham frock.

This installment of Turner Watch was sponsored by Mr. McCabe. If you would like to sponsor a future episode of Turner Watch please send money - ideally lots.

1/03/08