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Burton Albion FC 1 - 0 Rochdale AFC

Journey

Tired and a bit hungover.  That's how I started my trip to Burton.  Why? Because I had spent last night at my High School reunion.  A gap of 22 years meant that I had been up gassing until nearly 4 o'clock this morning.  I even met a reader!  After nearly three years of doing this - I actually met someone who reads my incoherent ramblings - Mr. Mannock.  He was in my English class in third year - he said that it seemed like I may have been listening to Mr. Sara all those years ago - as opposed to gobbing off and passing notes to girls, which is what it may have looked like I was doing.  He also promised to make a trip up to Spotland this season - for some reason he actually wants to meet Mr. Turner. 

Which rather neatly links me to err - Mr. Turner.  With the untimely, although not unwelcome, death of my Sat Nav, Jane, and Mr. Keane's late withdrawal from the trip I needed a navigator.  A quick phonecall later, and Fat Nav was back!  With printed instructions from those nice folks at the Automobile Association - Mr. Turner and I set off south.

Things started well enough - a quick blast round the M60, off at Stockport, through Hazel Grove and onwards to Macclesfield...  Hang on a minute!  Where in the name of Odin's beard were these instructions taking us?  On single lane roads we trudged onward to Buxton and then out into the Peak District.  A combination of traffic lights - loads of them, Sunday drivers - the speed limit says 40, but hey lets do 25!, Speed camera's - there was one roughly every 100 yards by my reckoning, Caravans - need I go on? and not one but two horse boxes - without anywhere to overtake - our progress was slow - very, very slow.  The countryside was breathtaking - but no comfort at all as the minutes and then hours ticked away.

To make matters worse we seemed to have taken a wrong turn somewhere.  So our AA instructions were even more useless.  In the end we just followed any sign that said 'Derby'.  In short, we were definitely going to be late - but how late was a bit of a mystery - because we had no idea where we were.  Mr. Turner rang Mr. Culshaw with the bad (or posibly good) news - he would have to start the commentary on his own.  

...And then the Fat Nav moment!  'Burton! Burton! Turn left at the roundabout!'  This is why we call him Fat Nav - he's like a homing pidgeon - it isn't the first time he's done this trick either.  It was ten to three by now - but having finally found a dual carriage way, we were making good time.  Another fifteen minutes and we were finally at the Pirelli Stadium.  It had taken nearly two and a half hours.                

Weather

Occasional rain as we wound our way through the Peak District settled into a cool overcast day in Burton.  As Mr. Turner went off to join Playboy Dan in the away end I trudged off to the main entrance with a face like thunder and a large storm cloud hovering over my head - worst journey ever! 

Food
Biscuit theft.  As I passed the media room I pinched a Garibaldi and a Ginger Nut.  It may not seem much - but you take your little victories where you find them. 

Ground

Burton Albion holds a special place in my memory.  It was the first Rochdale away fixture I ever attended - Football Association Challenge Trophy, First Round - all the way back in 1999.  I went on the coach with Mr. Keane.  The game was a bit rubbish, ending 0-0 (Dale won the replay 3-0).  Of course that was at Eton Park - a ground which would make Accrington and Dagenham's homes look like Old Trafford - to get to the away end you had to yomp over some adjoining playing fields.  I also remember that it rained really heavily during the game  - the rain ran off the roof of the terrace we were in and into the toilets - which then over-flowed back into the terrace.  Nice.

How things have changed.  The Pirelli Stadium is pretty much a brand spanker - opened in 2005.  It isn't huge - we missed it on the first pass - but it is neat and tidy and like a lot of newer grounds looks a little like a modern factory/office building.  The Main stand is an all seater affair and probably one of the better stands in the league - the three others are covered terraces, which I am pleased to report have detached toilets these days.  The pitch was like someone's very well maintained front lawn.  All in all, a lovely ground. 

News

After last weeks newsathon only one item of news to report this week.  It is bad news:

The Manager Of The Month award - whilst a handsome piece of mantlepiece wear and a great accolade it is a more potent source of misfortune than anything the Pharaoh's could rustle up.  I remember the last time Mr. Hill picked up the afore mentioned gong - not exactly plagues of locusts and boils - but still pretty bad.  Disappointingly, the award had lost none of it's malign influence today.  Action

GK: Arthur

Def: Wiseman, Stanton, Dawson, Kennedy(T)

Mid: Whaley, Kennedy(J), Jones, Buckley

For: Dagnall, O'Grady

Bench: Edwards, Flynn, Holness, Rundle, Stephens, Thompson, Spencer

September had been a rich hunting ground for Dale.  Four wins and a draw in the league had propelled Dale as high as second.  Yeah - SECOND!  The Brewers had not won in five games.  On paper at least, this should be a comfortable fifth straight win.

As the stadium clock rolled over ten minutes I was ushered to my seat by a pleasant lady in a smart uniform.  A look just under the clock revealed the unpleasant truth:

Brewers 1 - 0 Rochdale.

Burton had scored on 3 minutes.  A Greg Pearson cross finding Richard Walker in the area whose shot evaded Kenny Arthur with the aid of a meaty deflection off Nathan Stanton (or so it was explained to me by Mr. Culshaw).  I had missed it.  As it turned out, I had missed the only real piece of action in the game.

Burton had a plan.  It was a simple plan and very well executed.  Stop Dale playing - at all costs.  Hereford had tried it, Burton perfected it.  Boertien and Austin denying Whaley and Buckley the space they have become used to - Tony James and Dale old boy, Guy Branston, having O'Grady and Dagnall under lock and key for pretty much the whole game.  On the occasions when Dale contrived to break through the yellow wall, Artur Krysiak in the Brewers goal was more than equal to the challenge.

Dale toiled manfully but were mostly limited to long range efforts - Whaley going close three times from twenty yards.  Buckley produced the pick of Dales efforts on goal, firing a low effort at Krysiak from a sharp angle - but the shot lacked venom and the Polish keeper had little trouble holding it.  For their part Burton demonstrated themselves to be a very effective counter attacking force and summoned up a selection of decent chances for Greg Pearson to put the tie out of sight - only frantic defending kept him at bay.

Dale threw everything they had at the Brewers - all three subs were used and we were treated to the sight of Kenny Arthur charging upfield for a corner in the dying minutes, only for him to be despatched back to his area by an angry wave from Mr. Hill.

It was over before I got there.  1-0 Burton.

Speak your brains

Your cast for today: Myself and Mr. Turner

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  Being late I couldn't get to the commentary area, so I spent the first half in the midst of some very vocal Burton fans.  A lady immediately behind me spent 45 minutes screaming 'GREG!' (presumably Pearson) down my earhole.  Amusingly, everytime her hero was tackled she screamed, 'REFEREE! THAT'S NOT FAIR!'.  I suspect she may be quite new to watching football.
  
  
  
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  In the good old days referee's wore black - over the years green was introduced - which was still quite acceptable.  Since then I have seen yellow, red and this season a sky blue number - but nothing prepared me for today.  I asked one of my journalistic colleagues how he would describe the ref's shirt, 'Nuclear Pink' was the best he could muster.
  
  
  
• 
  
  Manager of the month award - kiss of death more like.
  
  
  
• 
  
  In fairness to Burton they had really done their homework (I did mine on the bus the day it was due - which explains a lot) - Dale's attacking options were systematically snuffed out.  Albeit a bit fortunate, but once Burton had scored Rochdale could not find a way into the game.  As Mr. Turner put it - 'We had a number done on us there'.
  
  
  
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  On advice from Mr. Culshaw and with Fat Nav re-programmed we got back to Rochdale in a little over one hour and twenty minutes.  I shall be writing a firmly worded letter to the AA.
  
  
  
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  A solid performanc from the boy Turner on his return to first team action.  He needs a good run of games to really cement his place though.