Back and forth

Rochdale AFC 0 - 0 Gillingham FC

Journey:

Depart Wigan 17.05 hrs. Arrive Spotland 19.34 hrs. Traffic jams are just my most favourite thing in the world. Ever.

After a spritely start on the East Lancs Road I joined the parking facility which some know as the M60 and proceded to crawl to the M62 - where things really began to slow down. I tried the time honoured approach of booming impotent fury at my fellow road users - 'I HAVE A PLAY-OFF SEMI-FINAL TO GET TO YOU KNOW!' - but curiously this didn't seem to have any effect at all. The traffic continued to move at something just less than walking pace. I mutely fumed behind the wheel.

After what seemed like hours - because it was hours - I finally escaped the M62. Now to make up some time, I thought - and then joined the queue on Roch Valley Way.

Time was ticking away by now and the traffic was barely moving. I had a go at pounding on the steering wheel and then tried screaming 'COME ON!' to no-one in particular - which, on reflection, proved to be surprisingly ineffective.

Just when it semed that I might miss the start of the game - and possibly my summer holiday, my daughters wedding and my own funeral - I was through the traffic lights and onto Sandy Lane. With the hated temporary replacement for the medium sized Audi abandoned across someones driveway - I am really sorry if that was your driveway - I ran (sort of) towards the blazing floodlight towers and the siren call of Underworld's 'Born Slippy'.

Red in the face and more than a bit out of breath I arrived at the Sandy Lane turnstiles. But, where was Mr. Keane? He had my ticket! Having faced seemingly impossible odds just to get here - not being able to get in was just too much. In desperation I spun on the spot, vainly looking for Mr. Keane - and then, a hand extended through the bars of the fence next to the turnstiles and in that hand was a ticket - just above it was the grinning face of Mr. Keane.

I'm in!

Weather:

Sunset over gods country meant that all the clouds had gone purple, pink and yellow. Either that or there was a massive chemical fire going on somewhere local.

Food:

With Sky TV in town it was predictable that the more 'part time' elements of Rochdale's support would turn out. They didn't disappoint. However, with home fans numbering 3,600 or so, it seemed that even the lure of getting your fizog on the idiot lantern wasn't enough to fill Spotland. That said, all of the extra's seemed to be on the Sandy - myself, Mr. Keane, Mr. Mitchell and his father-in-law Geoff, Mr. McCabe and his associate Andy had to fight for our regular spot with a hoarde of complete strangers.

So - now you're wondering, what has this got to do with food?

Imagine you are here and over there is the pie shop - and between the two is a substantial crowd - what are you to do? Enlist the support of Mr. McCabe and Mr. Keane and form a flying wedge - that's what...

I will not be denied.

Away Support:

After a sterling performance at the weekend which had seen 4 or 500 Kentish folk make the trip up the M1 - they managed to top it with 800 or more tonight. A fantastic turn out. Sang their hearts out all through the game.

On the subject of singing...

In the home play-off game last year there had been a rendition of Oasis' 'Wonderwall' by the Dale fans at Mr. Hill's request - I don't think Liam Gallagher had much to worry about - but everyone joined in. It was good. This year, Mr. Hill asked for Presley's 'The Wonder Of You'. Mr. Keane and I had a go - but quickly realising we were on our own and piped down. A bit rubbish really.

Action:

Fives days on - same place - same opponents. Part two of the Gillingham trilogy.

Your team for today: Fielding in goal. Ramsden, Stanton, McArdle and Kennedy in defence. Buckley, Jones, Toner and Rundle in midfield. Thorpe and LeFondre upfront.

After the comedy turns at the weekend there was to be no mucking around today - no siree. No funny formations or interchangeable striker experiments. Just the best eleven players, on the field, all together. Bliss.

That said, after Mr. Flitcroft's little outing at the weekend I would wager the Gill's breathed a collective sigh of relief when they saw his name missing from the team sheet. Said Mr. Flitcroft contented himself with prowling his technical area and growling at interloping Gillingham players.

On a few occasions this season I have expressed polite reservations about the quality of some of the officials we have had to endure in the last nine months - but this evening we had a friend on the pitch. Referee Kevin Friend of Leicestershire.

It's like a joke - just smaller. Much, much smaller. Let's press on...

With the Noisy Boys providing backing vocals Dale roared into action. Two early, although fairly wild efforts, from Rundle got the crowd going. Buckley mesmerised the Gill's defence with an elegant pirouet and a low but sadly wide drive and Thorpe directed a thumping header just off target. All this in the opening few minutes. Exciting stuff.

Gillingham looked to be reeling a little but drew themselves together to produce a good spell of pressure of their own although generating few authentic chances. And so it went in the first period. Each side would have a go while the other defended frantically and then on some secret signal they would swap. Very gentlemanly.

Dale would have the ball in the net courtesy of Buckley, which was chalked off for off-side - but it would be Gillingham who would have the best effort of the half when a Curtis Weston cross was diverted goalwards by a combination of Ramsden and Andy Barcham. Only an excellent reaction save from Fielding saved the day.

Half time and 0-0, but surprisingly enthralling.

Mr. Golden Gamble weaved his magic and Mr. Mitchell quipped that in the event that the perma-tanned one ever hung up his microphone I should apply for the job. I wasn't quite sure what he was getting at here - but it got me thinking - I really would quite like to be Mr. Golden Gamble. This probably says quite a lot about me - most Dale fans want to be the clubs first choice striker or the midfield playmaker; Keane jnr. wants to be the goalkeeper - but I want to be the guy who does the half time draw. Sad.

Having laughed ourselves hoarse at yet another inept cross bar challenger the second half got underway. Dale had looked pretty serious in the first period - now they really, really meant it. Buckley again shooting just wide and Jones inducing a TV camera friendly save from Royce in the Gill's goal from fully thirty yards in the opening minutes.

Then we were back to the 'you're turn old chap' approach. Gill's had a go, Dale had a go - and so on...

The Gill's Lewis produced a twenty yard thunderbolt from a mis-hit Fielding clearance which Frank had his work cut out to deal with and 71st minute Dale substitute Chris Dagnall had us all in a tiz late on when he appeared to have scored - from where I was, it really did seem to have gone in. I didn't seem to be alone either - people were celebrating all around me. However, our Friend had spotted the small matter of the ball not being in the net - which is generally accepted as the basic definition of a goal. It turned out that Royce had tipped it behind - which should have been a corner - but our Friend gave it as a goal kick.

The clock ran down. 0-0.

Summary:

Fascinating to watch, easily Dale's best performance for weeks - if not months.

In the pantheon of footballing cliche's - which includes: over the moon, sick as a parrot, game of two halves, swings and roundabouts, the boy done good etc there lurks the phrase: cancelled each other out. It pains me to wheel this one out - but it is exactly what happened tonight. Both sides played with pace, skill and desire. Both sides created chances to carve out a lead...

BUT!

Both defences turned in truly fantastic performances meaning that in spite of the very best efforts of both sets of attacking players there would be no break through.

Before the game I was concerned that Gillingham would simply out muscle and outclass Dale - not a bit of it. Dale got somewhere close to the type and style of play we have come to expect from them and for longish periods in the first and second half the Gill's looked a little rattled.

Basically, it is half time and the game is poised at 0-0. To use another great footballing cliche: Everything to play for!

Let's face it - we were in a worse position last time around.

Onward to Kent!

Turner Watch:

Mr. McCabe revived his bid to have Turner Watch replaced with a section dedicated to his good self this evening. He feels his deep understanding of the arts, sciences and retailing refridgerated deserts, not to mention his encyclopedic knowledge of the Sex Pistols, would bring something fresh, something rich, something vital to this section of the report.

I said no.

7/05/09