Johnstone’s Paint Tin: First Round
Rochdale AFC 1 - 2 Bradford City FC
Journey
A 7:15 kick-off. Sometimes I really feel that the football gods are laughing at me. Why 7:15? What is wrong with trust old 7:45? I didn’t check the TV listings – but I am fairly sure that tonight’s game wasn’t going out live via satellite across the globe and that Dale were pandering to the all important Japanese audience. I could be wrong though.
What a 7:15 start meant to me was some tyre smokin’ action through Blackley, Harpurhey, Middleton and Castleton. David Starsky would have been proud of me – he might even have rewarded me with a run out in his belt-tie cardy. A handsome garment if ever there was one. What was a little surprising however, was the number of men walking back and forth across Rochdale Road with large sheets of plate glass, and I simply lost count of the number of piles of chickens in wooden crates I had to drive through in Harpurhey – and don’t even get me started on the piles of cardboard boxes in Castleton.
Finishing off my Manchester to Rochdale sprint with a perfectly executed hand-brake assisted parking manoeuvre. I strode purposefully towards Spotland. From the noise I deduced that the game had already started, I was late. Those chickens gave their lives needlessly – all thanks to a 7:15 kick-off – I hope you are proud of yourselves Japanese football watching types.
Reception. Press pass. Made out in my name. In you face Mr. Ashworth – I won that! I told you it was just a waiting game.
At a breathless stumble I arrived at my commentary position - to find it deserted. The gear was all set up – but no Mr. Culshaw. A quick scan round: and there he was – he had bunked off and joined the Dale Player commentary team. In a break from hob-nobbing with the afore-mentioned Mr. Ashworth*, Mr Culshaw told me to get the head phones on, let the studio know I was there and give them an update if anything happened.
I did as I was told…
On balance I wish I hadn’t. For the next two hours I would be an irregular participant in Roche Valley Radio’s Irish music night hosted by the mercurial man of Eire, Mr. Paige. I am not a massive fan of the folkish stylings of the Emerald Isle – in fact, I would go as far to say that my version of hell involves being forced to listen to Irish music, whilst watching a meaningless cup tie, at a stupid kick off time…
Oh. How ironic…
*I hadn’t won at all had I? He’d nicked my commentary partner – this is becoming like a duel with the greatest criminal mind in the world – who also happens to be Dale’s press officer.
Weather
Slightly more ‘feathery’ in Hurperhey than is the norm – other than that – cloudy and bit chilly.
Food
I was late, so no pre-game noshings today. However, after an over generous slice of ‘the crack’ from Mr. Paige - interspersed with diddley, diddley, diddley: I felt I had earned a pie.
As I silently munched my treat, with my head phones back on – a group of gentlemen from the lovely city of Cork tried to convince me that Barrak Obama is in fact Irish, to a jaunty rhythm, whilst torturing a selection of innocent string instruments. B’gorra.
Away Support
61million. Ok, that may actually be the population of Great Britain. But after all the hoo-hah about the number of fans Bradford actually brought last season – I decided to err on the side of caution – and just say that everyone in Britain was there. That way no-one will be offended, put out or otherwise discomnockerated.
News
Thorpe returns to Spotland on loan. During half time I spotted a steward in the main stand who is the living image of Lee Thorpe. Things really must be tough at Darlo. He seemed to do a decent job though – playing as a hold-up steward, looking to bring his colleagues into the game.
Action
Your team for tonight:
GK: Arthur
Def: Flynn, Holness, Dawson, Kennedy(T)
Mid: Thompson, Kennedy(J), Flitcroft, Rundle
For: Dagnall, Buckley
Bench: Edwards, Wiseman, Brown, Spencer, Higginbotham
After the raptures of last weekend where the Shakers were sent back through Heywood with their tail’s firmly between their legs and the folk of Rochdale celebrated long into the night – we come to tonight. Cup football.
Not the FAmous Cup, not even the Rola-Cola Cup – tonight is The Paint Tin.
The rather sparsely populated stands suggested that there is not a lot of love for this little competition – there was only 1800 in Spotland tonight (don’t tell the Bradford fans). Perhaps due to the limited significance of this game Mr. Hill decided to have a tinker with the team which saw off Bury. Flitcroft replacing Jones in midfield, Rundle coming in on the left wing and Buckley going up top in place of O’Grady.
The first half was a fairly tepid affair. Rochdale played some nice, tidy stuff – Rundle causing difficulties for the Bantam’s Bateson and linking up nicely with Dagnall and Buckley, Flitcroft providing a solid presence in the middle of the park. For Bradford, Neilson on the right was a regular threat and Evans was a tireless target for every Bradford move.
However, in front of a listless crowd and in spite of some decent quality football the game failed to spark into life until just before the break when Dagnall rattled the Yorkshire cross bar. Dagnall’s effort was one of only two serious Dale efforts in the first 45 – Buckley had headed straight at Eastwood in the Bradford goal early in the half. Bradford’s few efforts were speculative at best.
During half time I rang Mr. Keane to get his thoughts on the game. He was unable to help – on account of being safely tucked up in his living room. Even Mr. Keane – the ultimate Dale stalwart - had passed on this game. The magic of cup football – not.
The second half started far more brightly. Dale built on the neat and tidy play of the first half with a real injection of desire. Fifteen minutes of Dale dominance finally achieved the break through when after a Rundle free kick Bradford had failed to clear their lines and the ball dropped to Craig Dawson in the area. With his head heavily bandaged after a coming together in the first half, Dawson controlled, Dawson turned, Dawson pulled the trigger. 1-0 Dale!
Minutes later Spencer (who had replaced Buckley on 60) had a glorious chance to turn the screw still further on the Bantams when one-on-one with Eastwood. Eastwood was however equal to the challenge.
Having had a serious fright, Bradford snapped into action. The Bantams rolled forward and Dale retreated from the onslaught. Evans and Neilson produced selection of decent efforts testing Arthur and then on 75 minutes Bradford were awarded a fortuitous freekick – twenty yards from goal. Young Bantams left back Michael Flynn stepped up and lashed the ball through the wall and past Arthur. 1-1.
Dale were visibly shaken. The neat play seen so far evaporated, Bradford were on the march. Just five minutes later slack Dale defending allowed Neilson to tee up a shot from twenty five yards – it collected a wicked deflection in transit, squirted up in the air and left Arthur completely stranded. 2-1 Bradford.
Dale seemed powerless to respond. Every attempt to drive upfield was stoutly rebuffed as Bradford set themselves to defend their lead.
With the house wives favourite, Daniel O’Donnell, crooning softly in my ears, Mr. Eltringham brought matters to a close.
Speak your Brains
Your cast for tonight: me – because no one else could be bothered to turn up!
I predict big things for that Flitcroft boy – possibly a kebab
Craig Dawson = Craig Awesome
Do I not like cup football – or Irish music
My final thoughts on tonight: - Look at my face - Does it look bothered? - Does my face look bothered to you? - Face - Bothered? - Face - Bothered? - I am not bothered!
With a needless cup distraction avoided – it’s back to the important business of the League.
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