If I hadn't seen such riches...

Rochdale AFC 2 - 3 Stockport County FC

Journey:

Why did it have to be Stockport? Why?

I have already come clean about my origins in earlier reports – but if you missed it, I grew up in Stockport. I went to school there. I got my first job there – curiously working with a Mrs. LeFondre: yes, that Mrs. LeFondre. My wife is from Stockport and my son was born there.

It was this connection that forced our first stop as we headed south on Sunday morning. My brother-in-law had managed to get hold of a ticket and needed a lift. A ten minute stop- over in Cheadle meant I was the proud keeper of a County fan. Lucky me.

In loose convoy - Dale colours flying, Mr. Keane in the HMS Zafira and me in the ‘Big Jag’ joined the motorway and plunged southwards.

Through an evil tempest we roared past Stoke and Birmingham making landfall at Watford Gap for tea and buns. At this point, it is probably worth introducing our cast for this weekend:

In the Zafira: Mr. Keane, Mr. Keane snr, Keane jr, young Mr. Bentley and young Mr. Eden-Maughan. In the Jag: Me, Mrs. Eden-Maughan, Lady Luck, Miss. Pixton and County boy.

And then onward. Some fancy SatNav work finally extracted us from the traffic jam at the bottom of the M1 and a little before 15:00 we rolled into the car park of the Quality Hotel, Wembley. I know a trading standards officer – I will be passing on the details of said ‘Quality’ hotel.

Having checked in we made for the bar. Two lagers & two cokes - £12.60. As half-cut Leeds United fans milled around us we discussed moving on – when Doncaster scored, the discussion was over – we moved.

We could dwell upon whom suggested which tube train to get on – but we have already had that argument at length – thank god for all day tickets is all I can say. My three visits to Edgware Road tube station will always remain close to my heart.

After the long and frustrating foray into central London – we gravitated back to the bar of the ‘Quality’ hotel – the assorted juniors having been safely despatched to bed. Hemmed in on all sides by morose, beered up Leeds fans – at just after 22:00 Mr. Keane took the ambitious step of calling a ‘Big Hour’. At 00:30 I retired hurt from the ‘Big Hour’ – it had been a very ‘Big Hour’.

Weather:

Clear skies over Rochdale degenerated into a monsoon as we pressed southwards. The storm cleared only just as we arrived in London. Match day dawned to leaden skies, a bitterly persistent gale and sideways rain. Just like home really.

Food:

Sunday night tea had been hosted in The Wembley Diner – just across the road from the stadium. Good food, not bad prices – only marred by young Mr. Bentley’s allegedly wilful consumption of young Mr. Eden-Maughan’s specially prepared salad-free burger. At this stage I can say no more. Young Mr. Eden-Maughan’s legal team are preparing papers.

Match day began with my ‘complimentary’ breakfast at the ‘Quality’ hotel. It was a good breakfast – but considering what I had been obliged to pay for one night – it wasn’t much of a compliment.

Still, it was nothing compared to what the food stands at Wembley felt was a fair price for a burger and chips – £7.60! The time before the turnstiles opened was spent in the lounge bar of the Plaza Hotel. Mr. McCabe and Playboy Dan had stayed there on Sunday night – jammy beggars – nicer hotel, cheaper and bar prices which didn’t cause a coughing fit. Oh, and the semi-finalists for ‘Britain’s Got Talent’ were staying there – I met half of ‘Signature’ in reception.

Mr. Turner turned up at 12:30 – wearing a roman centurion’s helmet – this lucky hat thing has got completely out of hand.

Ground:

The new Wembley is a truly shattering sight. Nothing really prepares you for the size of it – let alone its undoubted good looks. I was never really convinced of the need for a replacement for tatty old Wembley – well, not until today anyway. Breathtaking.

As awe inspiring as the outside is – the inside is quite other worldly. The scale is stunning. Row upon row, upon row, upon row of seats rise up as far as the eye can see – nothing in League 2 gets within a million miles – not much in the Premiership gets any closer. The message boards had been alive all week with speculation about just how many fans for Dale would turn up – my usual techniques for guestimating crowds failed me in this venue. Official sources suggest that 17,000 Dale fans watched the game. The sea of black and white was simply the most inspiring thing I have ever seen. 17,000 voices rose to the eloquently simple ‘Dale!’. At this point, I think I may have had something in my eye.

Action:

Mini-airships flying the Dale and County crests, columns of flame, fireworks and someone important from the Football League meeting the players. Things had moved on somewhat from that foul, storm lashed afternoon at the Moss Rose in December when I began writing these reports. Well, except the weather.

So this is it. The big day. The big chance.

The first ten minutes were a nervous, untidy and fairly even affair. County settled first and settled better – probing the Dale defences. Dale finally found their feet and began to ask some questions of their own. Twenty minutes in and both sides were very much in the game. Dickinson for County had taken the opportunity of a couple of ranging shots but it was Dagnall for Dale who created the first real chance of the game around the twenty minute mark. A powerful shot from just outside the area deflected just inches wide of the County goal. A corner.

Higginbotham whipped the ball into the area and then something amazing happening. McArdle thundered unfettered into the area and delivered an unstoppable close range header. GOAL! 1-0 Dale. 17,000 Rochdale fans went berserk.

County were stung into action. Only some breathless defending from Dale held them at bay. A Pilkington free-kick for County had the Dale support gasping as it shaved the top of the bar. On thirty four minutes County’s efforts were reward with a corner – taken short and then whipped in by Tommy Rowe – it seemed to be safely en-route to Tommy Lee when it cannoned off Nathan Stanton and past the helpless Lee into the Rochdale net. 1-1.

Despite further endeavour from both sides as Mr. Attwell indicated the interval: the tie remained balanced at one a piece.

I joined the food queue as half time commenced. I waited and waited and waited. I finally got to the front of the queue as the second half kicked off. I received three shocks in rapid succession:

1) Having mentally prepared myself for the outrageous prices – I discovered that all the food had gone.
2) As I stood open mouthed – a roar went up from inside the stadium – County had scored again.
3) With all the food gone – I asked for two cokes – ‘that will be £6 please sir’. ‘!!!’.

As I took my seat again I saw County’s second goal on the big screen – a stooping header from inside the box by Pilkington. Lee didn’t get near it. 1-2.

Dale sought a response and Gary Jones came closest finishing a determined run with a low shot which whistled just outside the post.

In the first half Dale had displayed an alarming tendency to lose the ball through a combination of misplaced passes and players caught in possession. If anything – in the second half things got worse. Dale continued to battle hard but Stockport were by now well and truly on top of the tie. Clean, thoughtful passing had Rochdale chasing shadows at times.

It wasn’t any real surprise when the Hatters further extended their lead on sixty seven minutes. An incisive pass from Pilkington cut the Dale defence asunder and released the ever dangerous Dickinson. An audacious near post drive did the rest. 1-3 County. Perhaps slightly flattering – but County fully justified their lead.

Had it ended there I doubt many would have complained. But, it didn’t...

Just ten minutes after Dickinson’s strike, Rochdale pulled one back. A long throw from ‘Pen’ Muirhead, an ineffective clearance, Adam Rundle’s right boot (yes, I did say right) and from eighteen yards out the ball crashed into the back of the net. 2-3. The Dale fans found their voices again.

Was this it then? Is this where the miracle would happen?

Well – no.

Dale pushed for an equaliser – Gary Jones in particular seemed to feel he could alter the fabric of reality by a feat of pure, unswerving will - but County held firm.

Today was not to be our time.

Summary:

At 1-0 Rochdale had a chance. However, once the equaliser went in County were very firmly back in the game and never really lost the initiative again until Rundle’s late strike. By then it was just too late.

Rochdale were not unlucky today. They met a team in County who played better and had quality where it counted in the form of Pilkington and Dickinson. Dale could do much worse than learn from Stockport’s performance this afternoon.

As I left Wembley I was disappointed but I wasn’t embarrassed. Rochdale Football Club had given a creditable account of themselves – giving County a good run for their money. They didn’t give up, even at 3-1 down. I am proud of how far we have come and what is more, I feel sure we have further to go.

Enjoy the summer - see you again in August.

Believe the Sign.

26/05/08

Now your dream is real...

Rochdale AFC 2 - 1 Darlington FC
AET (3 - 3) agg

Rochdale win 5 - 4 on penalties

Journey:

Probably the longest journey of the season. It began on the car park outside the Darlington Arena. It continued down the A1, M1 & M62 and through booking my summer holiday (Turkey, for those of you who are interested). It dragged on through a week of meetings, presentations and 'creative workshops' (to my way of thinking anything which does not involve a saw, a hammer and a G-clamp is not a workshop - a room full of people talking about 'paradigms' and 'concepts' definitely is not a workshop).

All this time I had just one thing on my mind - noon on Saturday.

I was suffering from advanced Dale Fever. Worse still, I appeared to be contagious. My staff had all watched our outing to the north east of England on Sky (Manchester United and Wigan fans). Many of my peers - none of whom had heard of, much less cared about Rochdale a few months ago - had watched the game.

In a strange twist, the chap who sits in the office next door to mine popped in on Tuesday morning to tell me he had watched the game - and that he knows Keith Hill. It turns out they played centre half together at Canon Slade School in Bolton. He hadn't seen him in more than 20 years - until Saturday that is.

My personal excitement levels went off the meter when news trickled through on Wednesday that Spotland was sold out! Not only that but Darlo had failed to sell all of their tickets.

And so, Saturday finally dawned.

Mr. Turner had discovered that the Regal Moon in Rochdale would be opening early today - so that is where we convened at 09:30. I would have been earlier but Lady Luck was a little reluctant to leave her slumber - but on a day as important as this, there was no way on earth she would not be coming.

After a hearty breakfast and a fortifying drink we saddled up and headed to Spotland. I sauntered through the Sandy Lane turnstiles at 10:30 - the ground was already filling up.

Weather:

After a week of clear blue skies and flag-cracking temperatures today marked a return to more traditional British weather. A heavy overcast lurked menacingly over Rochdale accompanied by a chilly breeze which held the occasional hint of drizzle.

Food:

Having gorged myself on the substantial full-english laid on at the Regal Moon I needed no further sustinance and opted for a coffee. Mrs. Eden-Maughan and Lady Luck who were also weighed down by their breakfast's elected to have hot chocolate. Mr. Keane on the other hand was observed savaging a cheese burger - in spite of having seen off a bacon barm only minutes before. On what would prove to be an extraordinary day - the thing I was least prepared for was Mr. Mitchell. He cantered up a few moments after I arrived - clutching a pie - which he then ate. I watched intently in stunned silence.

Away Support:

As I mentioned earlier, Darlington had failed to sell their full ticket allocation. Therefore, it was 2000 or so Quakers who made the trip south. Puzzling considering they were carrying a goal advantage into the game.

Pretty vocal throughout - but largely drowned out by almost 7000 Dale fans.

The support for Dale today was truly out of this world. Mr. Hill's request for a 'cauldron of noise' was met in full measure. We even had a half decent stab at 'Wonderwall'. As it was Mr. Hill's birthday it seemed the least we could do.

Action:

So, simple maths. Score twice, don't concede.

If only it were to be so simple.

Mr. Beeby of Northamptonshire blew the whistle and Dale roared forward. With just minutes on the clock Dagnall passed up a gilt edged chance to open the scoring when he headed over the bar from six yards. Minutes later Dagnall failed to capitalise on a mistake by Stockdale - firing wide of the empty goal.

Fifteen minutes in and the initial Dale onslaught subsided giving Darlo the chance to re-group and consolidate. Having got their breath back the Quakers began to impose themselves on the game. Dale continued to press the issue - but Darlo were now right back in the tie and began to create opportunities of their own. Only some classy work from the Dale defensive unit held Darlington at bay - Stanton in particular shone - it was good to have him back.

Mr. Beeby had left both sets of players and fans scratching their heads a few times in the opening half hour. What happened next was perhaps the most baffling incident I have ever witnessed in a game of football.

An innocuous Darlo attack saw the ball sail harmlessly across the area - but then I noticed that the whistle had gone and Mr. Beeby was vehemently indicating the penalty spot. Judging from his little pantomime he felt that USS Howe had been pulling Kennedy's shirt. Players and fans alike were mystified. USS Howe went in the book. Keltie stepped up and duly despatched the spot-kick. 1-0 Darlo, 3-1 on aggregate. Not in the script - not at all.

Despite this curious little interlude, Dale responded. It took until almost the last gasp before half-time - but Dagnall got Dale on the score sheet.

A Rundle freekick saw Darlo's Stockdale flapping at air and in the ensuing chaos Dagnall poked the ball home from close range. 1-1, 3-2 on aggregate.

Half time. As I have already mentioned I had taken the wise precaution of dragging Lady Luck along today. However, you can never have too much luck - so lucky hats all round was the order of the day.

Consequently, Mr. Keane was sporting his porkpie hat again, Mrs. Eden-Maughan was resplendent in a John Lennon style cap (whilst wearing it she has never seen Rochdale lose), Mr. Turner was out-fitted with an 'I Love NY' cap I bought him in America (which he subsequently dumped, there's gratitude for you!), Mr. McCabe was wearing some kind of fetish, peaked cap affair and I had gone for a straw cowboy hat (I looked like a cross between Rochdale Cowboy and Midnight Cowboy).

Would all this head-wear get Rochdale back into this game?

Early signs were not good as the second half kicked off. USS Howe was withdrawn from front line service and would spend the balance of the tie moored to the bench. St. Adam replaced him.

Whilst the Dagnall/Le Fondre combination looks good on paper - they do give away a good deal of height. Thus was the story of the second period - the Quakers defence more than capable of keeping the Dale strikers under lock and key. Dale pressed, but every thrust was comfortably parried. Whilst Darlo seemed happy to defend their advantage for most of the time, Dale nerves were jangling when Ravenhill crashed the ball against the Dale upright.

And so it appeared it would end - Dale frustrated, Darlington comfortably seeing out the tie. It is at times like this that something amazing is required - as 7000 mouthes quietly prayed for divine intervention - it arrived in the form of David Perkins.

Around 70 minutes Dale had a stone cold penalty shout turned down after St. Adam had been chopped down in the box - in the following confusion the ball fell to Perks, 25 yards out from goal, one touch, left foot, a flick off a hapless defender, top corner - SPOTLAND ROARED! - 2-1 Dale, 3-3 on aggregate.

Minutes later it seemed that the miracle was complete as in a confused melee the ball rolled over the line into the Darlo gaol. It was quickly booted out again and the trusty Mr. Beeby added not seeing things which HAVE happened to his ability to see things which HAVEN'T happened. Final whistle - all square.

Extra time was fairly event free. Both sides looked dead on their feet.

However, there would be one further twist. Throughout the game a fairly ugly little battle had been going on between Perkins and Ravenhill. Perkins by far getting the worst of it - Referee Beeby semed to be having another period of selective blindness. Therefore part way through the first period of extra time when Ravenhill chopped Perkins down yet again - the little lad lost his temper and went for him. Silly, but understandable. Having temporarily recovered his vision Mr. Beeby had no hesitation in producing a straight red. Perks left the field in tears. Heart breaking.

And so to penalties. I hate penalties - being English it comes with the territory. As the players organised themselves I disappeared to the toilet - possibly with no plans to return. The toilets were full - I mean literally standing room only. Full of grown men, shaking like leaves and fretfully puffing on an illicit fag. I spoke to one bloke who I had met down at Dagenham - he was as white as a sheet - I finished my fag and asked if he was going back - 'NO' came the answer - as I left he locked himself in one of the cubicles.

I can't watch penalties. I just can't. I look at the ground - wait for the whistle and listen for which way the roar comes from.

Whistle, roar to my left - 1-0 Darlo.
Whistle, roar all around me - 1-1.
Whistle, roar to my left - 2-1 Darlo.
Whistle, roar all around me - 2-2.
Whistle, roar to my left - 3-2 Darlo.
Whistle, roar all around me - 3-3.
Whistle, roar to my left - 4-3 Darlo.
Whistle, roar all around me - 4-4.
Whistle - roar all around me! Kennedy had missed, Tommy Lee had saved it!

Up stepped Ben Muirhead for Dale...

Whistle, EXPLOSION! 4-5 Dale!

The Sandy poured out onto the pitch - Dale had done it - we are going to Wembley!

Summary:

After the game we de-camped to the Flying Horse for a pint. Mr. Turner shoved his phone in my face and said 'say a few words - I'll post the video on Facebook later'. I couldn't think of a thing to say.

My clothes were stuck to me, I had a headache from shouting and a voice that sounded like I had been gargling spanners.

With the benefit of some time to recover - here are my few words: 'Brilliant, absolutely brilliant!'

You Have Been Watching:

Normally at this point Mr. Turner gets to steal all the limelight. However, on this special day I thought I would introduce you to the full cast:

Mr. Keane - the heart and soul of the operation
Mr. Mitchell - the 'looker' of the group - and secretive scoffer
Mr. Turner - court jester and whipping boy
Mr. McCabe - an ice cream man who hates kids - and driving
Mr. Jones - un-naturally hairy and something of a ladies man - you work it out
Miss. Eden-Maughan - Lady Luck, shine on
Mrs. Eden-Maughan - long suffering wife and chief editor
Mr. Eden-Maughan (Me) - vitriolic abuser of match officials and hack

It only remains to say that the last edition of the match report will be brought to you from Wembley Stadium, in 'that' London. Believe!

17/05/08

Television

Darlington FC 2 - 1 Rochdale AFC

Journey:

04:30 hrs - bolt upright in bed - it's today! Rochdale are in the play-off's and I have a ticket!

Admittedly, it was just a little early to set off - so the next eleven hours were spent scouring the TV for any news about Dale. Nothing. Well if you exclude the advert on Sky promising 'exclusive' live coverage of this afternoon's game. I imagine ESPN, Canal+ and RTL were gutted.

The coverage of Dale's extraordinary centenary season on the telly has been - well - non-existent. Considering everything that Mr. Hill has achieved - with a budget you could comfortably carry in your trouser pocket - hardly a moment of precious airtime has been devoted to Rochdale. In contrast I have been subjected to seemingly endless coverage of MK Dons 'fairytale season' - in this particular case the fairytale included several hundred thousand pounds. Even Stockport County got five full minutes on North West Tonight - I mean c'mon!

After hours of frustration the fingers on the clock finally crawled round to 2:30pm - and as if by magic - Mr. Keane appeared. And when Mr. Keane appears all his little friends appear as well: Mr. Mitchell, Keane jr and in a real turn up for the books: Mr. Keane snr. Due to space pressures in my car Messers Jones, Turner and McCabe would be travelling in the 'B' car - ably piloted by Mr. Jones.

After a minor SatNav moment we were underway. M62, M1, A1, A66 - 1hr 30mins - done.

Most of the journey was spent Dale coach spotting - we counted 12 or 13 in total. Amazing. In the tradition of such trips we had a trivia question posed by Mr. Mitchell:

Name the nine players, capped by England whose surname begins and ends with the same letter.

We managed Scholes and Stiles. Please feel free to chip in.

Weather:

Hot, hot, hot!

Food:

Catastrophic pie failure.

When I made the trip to the pie shop I discovered that there were simply no more pies. Considering that this game was an all ticket affair - it wouldn't seem unreasonable that Darlo could have planned to have enough pies. Sadly not however. All that was left were jumbo packs of prawn cocktail crisps and packets of Starburst - not really traditional football fayre.

Ground:

The Darlington Arena is a truly amazing place. Clean, modern, symetrical and quite the best ground I have visited this season - or any other for that matter. There was even plenty of parking - although getting away from the ground proved to be a much bigger trial than getting in.

Pleasingly the people of Rochdale had abandoned their traditional pursuits of benefit fraud, robbing each others houses, shooting up and becoming involved in drunken brawls - 3500 had made the trip to the north east of England.

Being (apparently) the only person in Rochdale who is in gainful employment - I missed Jonathan Swain's sensationalistic run out on GMTV last week. However, based on Mr. Swain's approach to journalism I can confidently make the following statements:

All men from Ireland are called Paddy.

Everyone in Scotland has ginger hair.

All women from Wales are called Blodwyn.

Everyone from London is a loveable chimney sweep.

Everyone from Liverpool was in the Beatles.

I know these things to be true - because I know of at least one person from that locale who fits the description. It's obvious when you think about it...

With just over 4500 Darlo added to Dale's 3500 fans the atmosphere approaching the game was amazing. The only pity was that one whole side of the ground was empty.

Action:

5.35pm - go time!

A truly frantic start from both teams. Nerves clearly in evidence - errors from both sides contributed to an open and exciting first ten minutes. Darlo having a great effort from Wiseman denied by quick reactions from Lee, Dale's Dagnall denied from 22 yards by the underside of the cross-bar.

However, far from spurring Dale on, Dagnall's blast signalled the high water mark for Dale in the first period. From here onwards it was pretty well all Darlo.

Jones and Perkins in the heart of the Dale midfield found themselves overwhelmed by Darlington and chance after chance followed for the Quakers.

It seemed only a matter of time before Darlington would reap their just rewards. On 29 minutes they did.

Darlo's Kennedy flummoxed McArdle before unleashing an exquisite curling shot past Lee into the top corner. It chokes me to say it - but this truly was an excellent goal. 1-0.

The balance of the half was little better than damage limitation for Dale. The Quakers continued to comprehensively outplay Rochdale and created chances to further extend their advantage. Only a grimly determined rear guard action - with Lee starring - prevented further embarrasment.

Half time was a mercy.

Hats. Earlier in the season my colleague Mr. Keane had been quite strident on the topic of my millinery selections. Therefore imagine my surprise when Mr. Keane turned up wearing a brown, leather pork pie hat. Some people will do literally anything to get their fizog on the telly - see earlier comments re. Mr. Swain.

The highlight of halftime was a sneak preview of the 2008/9 home shirt. They aren't supposed to be available yet - but one lucky young lady had got her hands on one and was proudly showing it off. It's a good looking shirt - Inter Milan - or - Gillingham - dependant upon your aspirations.

The second half began cautiously - Darlo seemed content to defend and break, Dale struggled to get a hold on the game.

Very often a game can turn on the attitude of one or two players - this is what happened today. Around five minutes in Jones and Dagnall decided it was time to take the game to the Quakers - and they did.

Just as Darlington had dominated the first half - Dale, led by Jones and Dagnall poured forward. Darlo's first half supremacy evaporated.

Chance followed chance as Rochdale turned the screw. The only surprise was that it took Dale until the 70 minute mark to level things up. A smart turn from Dagnall, a rasping shot, a deflection - GOAL! Stockdale in the Darlington goal didn't even move. 1-1.

With things now level - Dale pressed onward for a winner. After the horror show in the first half, it was a joy to see Dale play the way they know they can.

However, as full time approached 1-1 it remained. If I had been offered the draw at 4:30am this morning - I would have taken it. Not a bad result...

And then things went wrong.

A rare Quakers attack culminated in an ill considered challenge from Jones which saw Darlo's Wainwright sprawling and Jones in the referee's book. Wainwright dusted himself down to take a deep angled free kick - Lee saw the danger and rushed off his line to punch clear - he missed - Miller headed the ball into the vacant net - 2-1 for Darlington. A wave of silent disbelief spread over the Rochdale fans.

But it wasn't quite over - with just seconds to go USS Howe smashed the ball toward the Darlo goal - only a solid block from Stockdale prevented Dale from re-levelling the tie.

2-1 it stayed.

Summary:

A woeful first half, an extraordinary second half. 1-1 would probably have been fair - but Darlo hung in there and nicked it at the death.

A great game, a brilliant location - not an ideal result, but not a disaster. The maths for the home fixture are pretty stark - score twice, don't concede.

Believe The Sign.

Turner Watch:

Shorts - I need say no more.

10/05/08

Ch,ch,ch,ch - Changes.

Rochdale AFC 1 - 1 Shrewsbury Town FC

Journey:

It is usually at this point that I whine on about roundabouts, traffic and the like.

Not this week.

As I drove to Spotland this week I felt odd. It took me a while to work out what was up; as I parked the car it dawned on me what was the matter. The usual horrible sensation of pre-match anxiety was nowhere to be seen.

The last game of the season is usually at best a time for praying for some mathematical improbability to turn up; or at its darkest a time for praying that the worst does not happen; more typically a time to reflect on how much better next season will be - probably.

Not this time.

Whatever happens today, Rochdale AFC will be in the play-offs.

As I sauntered toward the Sandy and passed groups of Dale fans you could genuinely feel optimism in the air. A spring in people's step, smiling faces, backs being slapped. A genuinely different place to the Spotland Mr. Hill and Mr. Flitcroft took charge of eighteen months ago. Thanks guys.

Weather:

Warm and overcast.

Food:

Keane and Turner stuck to their burgers. I had a pie related disaster - but more of that later.

Away Support:

Easily 400 Shrews made the trip - possibly more. An attractive selection of fancy dress was on display including several smurfs and a chicken - to mention just a few. Vocal throughout - clearly determined to enjoy what remained of their season.

Usually I don't talk about the Dale support in this section - but as it is the last game of the regular season, I will do as I like. 3500 or more - truly awe inspiring. Our little group included: myself, Mr. Turner, Mr. Keane, both Keane junior's, Mr. Mitchell, Mr. Mitchell's father-in-law Geoff, two un-named friends of Mr. Turner - oh - and in the story of the season: The Ice Cream Man Cometh - Mr. McCabe and the future to be ex-Mrs. McCabe also joined us. Sadly minus ice cream.

Action:

With a place in the play-off's secure it was likely that Mr. Hill may look to make a few changes. I was a little un-prepared for the exact number of changes he would make.

8.

Eight changes from the team which started against Bury last week. Dale resting players for a big game - how times change...

The effect of the wholesale alterations to the team were pretty clear from the kick-off. Dale looked ill at ease and disjointed. Shrewsbury took full advantage. The Shrews had more of the ball and strung together chance after chance in contrast to an at best muted response from Rochdale. It wasn't any real surprise when Shrewsbury took the lead on 34 minutes.

A freekick struck deep into the Dale area created chaos and the ball flashed into the net past a wrong-footed Lee. The official version of the game indicates that Asa Hall of Shrewsbury was the scorer - those of us behind the Sandy goal know the aweful truth. 1-0 Shrewsbury.

Dale did respond after going behind. But as half time arrived - Shrewsbury retained the advantage. As is the tradition at Spotland, half time is - 'Gooooooooolden Gamble Time!'. I met Mr. Golden Gamble in the toilets of the Studd's Bar at last Saturday's Indie Night. He gave an exclusive performance of 'It's Goooolden Gamble Time!' - truly something to tell the grandkids.

In the interval we got to hear the first airing of Rochdale's play-off anthem voted for by the readers of the Rochdale Observer - a little tune called 'Time to Believe' by a local outfit called 'The Shameless'. It begins with - you guessed it - 'It's Gooooooooooolden Gamble Time!'. Actually not that bad - and an improvement on the now rather grating 'Rochdale Hero's' - our centenary anthem. Just how many anthems do we need?

The real talking point of the first half was not actually football related. Our badger headed companion Mr. McCabe - had dyed his hair. Where once grey flecked his black mane - there was ginger. I mean - c'mon! Ginger!

Anyway, somewhere amidst the Mrs. Slocombe jokes the second half had begun.

Dale started far better in the second half and on 54 minutes, things were all square thanks to Chris Dagnall.

I would like to describe the goal for you - but unfortunately I was in the pie queue. So in Mr. Keane's words - this is what happened:

'The keeper dropped it, caught it, then dropped it again, Daggers steamed in and stuck it in the onion bag'.

A tour de force of factual simplicity.

The balance of the half was pretty open with chances for both sides. However, it seemed that with ten minutes to go that Dale had clinched all three points when St. Adam drilled the ball under a sprawling Bevan in the Shrewsbury goal. The referee was in the process of indicating a goal when he spotted a waving flag on the touchline.

How lucky we were to have the only linesman in the Football League with X-ray vision. In spite of the referee's clear view of Le Fondre from ten yards away - the linesman twenty yards behind Le Fondre had spotted a hand ball. How lucky we are indeed.

And so it ended - 1-1.

Summary:

A gamble from Mr. Hill which paid off in the end. Not the best game I have seen this season - but not to demean this contest - I honestly don't care - we are in the play-off's!

Gone are the days of the end of season pitch invasion - which is sad - but the Dale squad and staff came out and did a lap of honour around Spotland to endless applause.

'This is not the end, nor even the beginning of the end - but it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning'.

Winston Churchill

Darlington - here we come!

Turner Watch:

Spent most of the game examining Mr. McCabe's 'do' - it was like watching 'Life on Earth'. Sickening.

3/05/09

St. Crispins Day

Bury FC 1 - 1 Rochdale AFC

Journey:

The shortest away trip of the season.

Mr. Keane pitched up outside my house at 12:30 with Messers Turner, Mitchell, Jones and Keane jr already installed in the HMS Zafira. A quick trip through the de-militarised zone (Heywood - in which both Rochdale and Bury are a small town: depending upon you allegiances) and we arrived at the Village Hotel for a refreshment stop.

Due to a minor encounter between a pub team from Salford and some southern dandies the bar was packed. We were relegated to the great outdoors.

Suitably refreshed we re-boarded the HMS Zafira and pressed onward to Gigg Lane. As we did so we noted from a roadside sign that Bury is Britains best large town in the prestigious 'Britain in Bloom' competition. So, not a small town in Heywood afterall then. Having said that, chanting 'you're just a large town in bloom' would probably not work.

Weather:

A perfect English spring day. Warm and sunny with occasional cloud.

Food:

No meat and potato pies. However, the chicken balti alternative was pretty acceptable. However. £2.40!

Ground:

Gigg Lane. What can I say? It is not the worst ground I have been to. That just about covers it.

For this visit to Gigg Lane the authorities had elected to locate the Dale fans in the the opposite end to normal. As I strolled in at 2:15, I understood why.

There were already approaching 1000 Dale fans in Gigg Lane.

I looked over my shoulder to see a solid wall of Dale making their way in behind me. I took my seat and watched as the flood of Dale continued unabated. Our allocated end filled up rapidly and Dale fans began to fill up part of an adjacent stand. Just before 3pm it was announced that kick-off would be delayed by 15 minutes. Aparrently, upwards of 500 Dale fans were still trying to get into the ground.

My guess would be that there were more than 3000 Rochdale fans in Gigg Lane today. Phil Spector would have been impressed by the wall of sound.

Action:

So it comes to this. Rochdale vs. Bury. A win today for Dale would keep the dream of automatic promotion alive. Reading various message boards revealed that Bury would like nothing better than to stall Rochdale's plans - afterall, according to one informed Bury fan 'Rochdale should know their place'.

Whatever that means.

At 3:15, procedings finally got underway. In a boiling cauldron of noise Dale and the Shakers charged.

This was proper derby football. Energy, passion, commitment. Every ball contested, no cause lost. For all the effort expended it was (as these encounters often are) a very even contest. Dale had a couple of good chances - Bury had two excellent chances which were only denied by the athletic reactions of Lee in the Rochdale goal.

Then on 30 minutes the whole complexion of the contest changed.

A strong challenged by Stanton on the gazelle like Bennett saw Mr. Jones of Cheshire produce a straight red card. Baffling. It was a foul, it probably merited a yellow card - but, a red card, I don't think so.

The effect of the dismissal was curious. Bury seemed to back off and with the extra space Dale were able to hold the ball more effectively. As can be the case, 10 men can play more efficiently than 11. The half wound down without further major incident (aside of the incomprehensible booking of Gary Jones) and as Mr. Jones indicated the interval - 0-0 was all we had to show for an entertaining and action packed first period.

Half time was spent in a desperate search for information on Hereford and Stockport's results. Stockport were losing, Hereford were winning. Dale had to get something from this game to maintain any hope of making the final automatic spot and hope Hereford slipped up and Stockport could not recover.

Seconds away - round two...

The second half began cautiously for both teams. Bury never fully committing to their attacks, Dale containing and breaking where an oppotunity presented itself. However, on 56 minutes Bury finally made their man advantage pay.

In what seems like a rare trip away from Spotland these days, Bury's Nicky Adams pounced on Bishop's flick on and fired past Lee. 1-0 Bury. Not quite the try-before-you-buy we had in mind - we look forward to seeing more of Mr. Adams next season. Even he couldn't resist a smile moments later as the Dale faithful sang 'Bury, you're Rochdale's feeder club'.

With the goal advantage Bury attempted to reinforce their lead in a semingly endless stream of attacks. Dales ten men were stretched almost to breaking point over and over again - but managed to hold out.

On 78 minutes Mr. Jones intervened again. A second yellow card saw Bury's Futcher heading for the dressing room after apparrently head butting McArdle.

With the sides now even again, Dale were able to venture forward more frequently. A few decent chances followed but Bury stood firm. It seemed it would be Bury's day.

On 90 minutes Mr Jones once again intervened. Gary Jones was chopped down inside the penalty area and he had no hesitation in indicating the penalty spot. St. Adam stepped up and confidently converted the spot kick. 1-1. A riot almost ensued in the Dale end as Bury fans charged the fences. Honours even. Probably fair - but there was more...

With just seconds remaining a high ball forward caused a mix up between Provett and Sodje as USS Howe challenged for the ball. Sodje headbutted Provett in the confusion - both ended up prone on the grass. USS Howe had the simple task of rounding Sodje and Provett and slotting the ball into the empty net. Mass Hysteria descended on the Dale fans! Until they saw the linesman's flag waving - that is. In spite of the obvious facts of the matter - he was indicating a push by Howe. Wrong - but there you are.

Summary:

A keenly contested game full of incident with both teams contributing fully. A proper local derby - great to watch.

And just for those who couldn't come to Bury today:

Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red. This story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered- We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition; And gentlemen in England now-a-bed Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

William Shakespeare

Possibly a little more eloquent than Mr. Hill's 'alleged' pre-match comments on Facebook. Perhaps...

Stockport lost, Hereford won - the play-off's it is then.

Turner Watch:

Didn't get chased by men with swords this time. Result!

26/04/08

Automatic for the people?

Rochdale AFC 1 - 0 Morecambe FC

Journey:

I know that a small number of you look forward to the weekly update on Sudden roundabout. It is therefore with some regret that I have to inform you - it has gone. Where once there was cones, chaos and men in hi-viz jackets - there is now a traditional junction supported by a system of ruthlessly efficient traffic lights. I barely had to slow down as I swept by.

However, something odd was happening on Roch Valley Way. Traffic. A long queue of traffic heading towards Spotland.

A slow crawl upto Spotland revealed that the queue went all the way up Sandy Lane as well. What was going on here?

Having finally parked up I strolled up to the Sandy Lane turnstiles. Queues! Queues to get into the Sandy!

There is an old joke I have had levelled at me once or twice:

If you go to Spotland you will see two queues: a long one and a short one. Don't join the long one. It's for the chippy.

A swift check around ensured that I hadn't made the obvious mistake.

It seemed that Rochdale Chairman, Chris Dunphy's 'Delia Smith' moment in the Observer had paid off. 3700 souls in Spotland today - now they begin to believe.

Weather:

Stern grey skies accompanied by an icy, swirling gale.

Food:

I finally caved in. Cheeseburger and Fanta. Not bad - but it would have been better if the ketchup dispenser hadn't sprayed me instead of the burger. Mr. Turner also went for the burger/Fanta combo. As is his wont, Mr. Mitchell did not partake.

We were pleasantly surprised by a guest appearance from Mr. Jones. All the more impressive for the fact that he had recently been so horribly electrocuted - or so it seemed judging from his 'do'. Mr. Keane was an uncharacteristic no-show. Last nights get together of the Littleborough Debating and Choral Society seemed to have got the better of him.

Away Support:

100 - perhaps 150. Disappointing considering the distance from Morecambe. However, the Shirmpers really don't have anything to play for. They are safe from relegation and the glimmer of a play-off place has long since been extinguished. Fairly vocal - but a bit disinterested.

Action:

This could be tricky. Rochdale have a mathematical chance of clinching the final automatic promotion slot - but - this relies upon Rochdale winning every one of their remaining games - and - Stockport and Hereford tripping up at least a couple of times.

As I have explained, Morecambe have nothing to play for - but - they have made a creditable fist of their first season in the Football League and would have no desire to be rolled over cheaply. Teams playing for pride alone have been a stumbling block for Dale in the past - fingers crossed.

The wind played a big part in procedings making for a nervy, scrappy affair. Both Dale and Morecambe had their moments in a game of contrasting styles. Dale persisited with their pacy, passing game - the Shrimpers played a more direct, but equally exciting variety of football. In spite of the intentions of both sides neither could really dictate the game.

Good defensive work from Stanton particularly held Morecambe at bay (yes, I do realise that there is a pun in here somewhere). A string of athletic reaction saves from the Shrimpers Davies meant that Dale would go unrewarded.

As John Moss (no, not the drummer from Culture Club) indicated the interval, a strongly contested 0-0 was all we had to show.

Half time was enlivened by children playing eleven a-side, ball boys taking penalties against Desmond the Dragon and of course 'Golden Gamble'. The winning ticket was drawn by Dale legend Steve Whitehall this week. Mr. Turner recently took part in a charity game against a Dale old boys team - Mr. Turner was marking Mr. Whitehall. Things did not go well. Let's leave it that Mr. Whitehall has another matchball to add to his collection.

In between frantically seeking updates on the Hereford and Stockport scores there was time left over to speculate on why Morecambe's club mascot is a large red cat. I mean come on. What was wrong with a big shrimp?

A slightly better affair in the second half. Both sides having come to terms with the conditions. Still a pretty open game with chances at both ends. It did seem for all the world that Dale and Morecambe would simply cancel one another out and we would see a rare 0-0 at Spotland.

A slightly below par Rundle made way for Muirhead on 62 and just four minutes later Dale were in the lead. Jones set up USS Howe on the edge of the six yard box who unleashed a blockbuster of a shot which - in spite of the best efforts of a diving Shrips defender on the line - found it's way into the back of the net. 1-0 Dale.

The balance of the half remained open and chances continued to come for both teams especially after the introduction of Dagnall for Dale on 78. In the last few minutes Morecambe did seriously press forward and gave Dale a few nervous moments. However, as the whistle blew it was 1-0 for Dale.

Dale would leave the field to a long and deserved ovation.

Summary:

Difficult weather, difficult tie, great result. A closely fought encouter which Dale just edged. Tommy Lee in goal was good when called upon. Stanton was as always awesome. Jones and Perkins energetic as ever in the middle of the park. USS Howe can't seem to miss these days and St. Adam although goal-less played a full part.

As I drove home the news came in that both Stockport and Hereford had lost their games. Dale are up to fourth - and now you gonna belive us?

Onward to Bury.

Turner Watch:

Nice to have Mr. Turner back - it has been such a long time. His main contibution today was making Mr. Mitchell lose his rag due to Mr. Turner's over loud conversation with me about his favourite movie, 'Willow'. Who would have thought '80's sci-fi would be so controversial?

19/04/08

A Boys Own adventure

Dagenham and Redbridge FC 1 - 1 Rochdale AFC

Journey:

You could have cut the excitement with a cricket stump when Mr. Keane rolled up at 07:30. The Dagenham game! Our big road trip to that London.

Quite literally minutes of planning had gone into this excursion. A tank full of diesel, digs with Mr. Cootes and a cool bag full of pig related products (for the big Sunday fry-up you understand).

After a stop off at McDonalds for scones and lashings of ginger beer we were on our way - into a torrential downpour. Were we down hearted - No! You may recall from our trip to Mansfield that Mr. Keane had usurped my crown as undisputed heavyweight queen of the '80's. To honour his coronation I had loaded the auto-changer with Top of the Pops: 1981, 83, 85, 87 & 89. You should have seen his little face... I think he was genuinely moved by the gesture.

M62, M60, M62, M6 we thundered past Stoke and then Birmingham under clear skies. After a further stop for scones and lashings of ginger beer we joined the M1 and pressed on south.

It was somewhere around here that my associate and I found ourselves dueting to 'Up where we belong' - this was swiftly broken up amidst assorted harrumphing's.

Around nine miles from the M25 we joined a traffic jam. It was at this point that something which had been a minor concern became a pressing issue. I had eaten a hearty tea of chicken, potato's and veg on Friday night - Mr. Keane had elected to entertain a chicken Vindaloo. Without being too indelicate - it kept popping back. Enclosed space - fruity aroma's. I think you get the idea. A traffic jam was by no means welcome.

With streaming eyes and the windows wide open, we crawled on towards that London. With three miles left to the M25 Mr. Keane redeemed himself in some measure by suggesting a detour. Off the M1 onto a seemingly disused dual carriageway and in next to no time we were on the M25 heading east.

Under darkening skies we arrived in Romford and after a swift intake of breath that there are parking meters on residential streets in that London: the car was berthed on Mr. Cootes drive. After a false start at Romford station we headed for the bus stop.

'Return to Dagenham East, please'.

'We don't do returns, mate'.

'Single to Dagenham East then, please'.

'I don't go to Dagenham East - you want the other side of the road, mate'.

Notwithstanding unhelpful bus drivers we finally arrived at the Eastbrook public house at 13:00. We were in 'good' company - the British National Party were holding a rally in the lounge bar.

Weather:

The run into the game was punctuated by showers and sunshine - mostly sunshine. Little could have prepared us for what happened at kick-off.

Food:

The Eastbrook is located next to a 'Pie and Mash' shop. However, in spite of our best efforts - we never quite made it. Lashings of actual beer were the order of the day.

Consequently, we headed to the Victoria Ground a little unsteadily.

The pies had run out so Mr. Keane and I opted for the burger - with cheese and fried onions. As with all food at clubs recently of the Football Conference - it was inexpensive and actually quite appetising. The coffee wasn't bad either.

Ground:

In spite of Mr. Evans apologies in advance on behalf of the Victoria Ground - I didn't think it was too bad. Covered sides and open ends. A little rough and ready - particularly the pitch: which looked a little boggy - but OK. Self evidently non-league - but better than the infamous Moss Rose.

The absence of a roof would become an issue to the 300 or so Dale fans who had made the journey south.

Action:

Mr. East of Wiltshire put the whistle to his lips - and - it hailed. Pea sized hail. For ten minutes. Followed by a further five minutes of frigid, driving rain. A genuine treat when you are in the open. The fixture at Spotland had been far from a feast of football. The opening exchanges of this encounter were little better.

Dale looked a little tired after so many games so quickly - Dagenham looked like a team in dire need of points. Unsurprisingly, Daggenham had very much the better of the game, creating a few decent chances.

The weather cleared and hopes rose that Dale would kick into gear. Sadly hope did not become reality and the Daggers direct approach prevailed.

At around this point Mr. Keane received a text from Mr. Evans:

'We cordially invite you down to our level'.

Then on 28 minutes, quite literally out of nothing the ball was plucked out of the air by Higginbotham and lashed towards goal. 1 - 0 Dale.

Granted it was against the run of play - but under the circumstances - I wasn't grumbling. Perhaps now Dale would hit their stride.

No.

Just five minutes later Stevens found a way through the Dale defence and finished with style. 1 - 1.

The half finished as a fairly open encounter with both sides finding openings. However, as the whistle blew - 1 - 1 it remained.

After the inclement conditions of the first half a number of Dale fans congregated around a handy corner for a smoke - I and Mr. Keane among them. Panic ensued as a hi-viz jacketed steward strode towards us. As you are proabably aware smoking is now forbidden in football grounds - even open ones. Therefore the stewards next move was surprising:

'I'm going over there for a moment - when I come back - you won't be doing that'.

Pragmatic law enforcement - always a winner.

In order to keep the dream of automatic promotion alive - 1-1 was of little use to Dale. In order to avoid the drop zone - 1-1 was of little use to Dagenham.

The second half would be an end to end affair.

Dale introduced Le Fondre on 50 and then Basham and Dagnall on 63 - the Daggers chose to persist with their established line up throughout.

Chances came at both ends - but the better chances came Dale's way. However, a combination of poor finishing, stern defending and excellent if eccentric keeping from Tony Roberts averted Dales intentions.

The incident of the half would be Dagenham's Arber's extended stay on the floor after a semingly innocuous collision with Le Fondre.

As Mr. East blew the whistle to close procedings - 1-1 it remained.

Summary:

Bad weather, a fatigued looking Dale and a resolute Dagenham meant that this was very much more a point gained rather than two points lost.

Not the most entertaining football match I have ever seen - but an improvement over the game at Spotland. On balance a fair and valuable result for Dale.

On the up side I shook hands with Tony Roberts in the foyer of the social club after the game. Mr. Keane managed to get within two feet of Gary Jones before he was crash tackled by Mr. Jones' security team.

Football and the licensee trade were the real winners today.

Turner Watch:

As Mr. Turner had elected not to make the trip to Dagenham - we turn our attention to local celebrity Mr. O' Shaughnessy.

O'Shaughnessy Watch:

Pitched up late, largely anonymous throughout the game, went on to form an abiding and beautiful relationship with a wheelie bin later in the evening. Disappointing.

12/04/08

Journeymen

Rochdale AFC 4 - 2 Notts County FC

Journey:

I was reading the BBC message board in the week and was intrigued to hear that two lads from Glasgow regularly make the trip to Spotland to watch the Dale. That is some trip.

My journey today was every bit as epic.

06:00 Rochdale. Left my house in a cold, drizzly dawn - heading for Rochdale train station. Got the train to Manchester - arrived- walked across Manchester - got the train to London. 10:00 London.

Arrived at my meeting. If you arrive at a place of business to find: a G-Whizz parked outside, asking for a coffee involves a menu, all the blokes have topiary beards and the girls are called Jocasta, Elfin or Summer - there is only one explanation. You have entered... A Marketing Agency.

14:30 London. Taxi back to Euston through rubbish London traffic. Got the train to Manchester - arrived - walked across Manchester - after a false start managed to get on a train to Rochdale. 19:00 Rochdale.

Whilst I was sat on the train from Rochdale I noticed the chap facing me was wearing a black and white striped football shirt. Mainly because I had spent the day with people who say 'yuh' instead of 'yes' - and assuming him to be Dale - I decided to strike up a conversation. 'Going to the game?'. Leaning forward he said 'yes' (not 'yuh' you note) - as he did so his jacket fell open and I saw - Magpies!

Curse our centenary kit!

He turned out to be a decent fella. He'd finished work early in Nottingham and set off on his own, by train to see the game tonight. We talked about the Magpies future - he was not very optimistic, there was even a shade of concern that the venerable old club could go out of business. We laughed about the plans to turn Mansfield Town into Harchester United. We speculated about tonight's final score - he thought County were in for a hammering - I was a bit more cautious after the mugging Dale got down at Meadow Lane.

The train pulled into Rochdale and we went our seperate ways wishing each other good luck for later.

Most uncharacteristically for me, I arrived at the ground seven whole minutes early. Mr Mitchell was stunned.

Weather:

Clear blue skies. On an evening like this, you can see promotion from here.

Food:

Having shunned the tofu and beansprout wrap I was offered in London I was starving. Two pies and a coke was the answer.

Mr. Keane having gorged himself at home was not in the mood for pie or burger tonight. I got him a coffee. I did offer him the use of one of my new gloves - but he did not seem to like the idea of looking like Michael Jackson - however briefly.

Part way through his coffee he announced that he quite fancied a Twix. Some time later he mentioned it again and then a little later, again. Finally, and with about ten minutes left to half time he decided to haul himself down to the Patisserie. They had sold out.

There is probably some kind of moral here - please feel free to make one up.

Away Support:

I looked out for my fellow journeyman - but I didn't see him. Fifty or so to start with. A few more filtered in as the first half progressed. To their credit they made up for their slender numbers by singing like maniacs throughout.

Action:

Somthing was wrong. As the team was read out we noticed the absence of Stanton, Mc Ardle and Muirhead. Coming in were Holness, D'Laryea and Thompson. Squad rotation - at the Dale? No. An accident on the motorway had trapped our regulars in a huge tail-back.

In the context of Dale's recent run of form and County's desperate position in the league - such significant changes to a winning side were concerning.

The Magpies have built something of a reputation as goal-less away draw specialists. It was clear from the kick-off that they intended to defend in depth. They did. It was pretty dreary. It was no surprise when the half-time whistle blew that honours were even at 0 - 0.

It was encouraging to see that our over-fed Dale-mation was back on duty. He (or possibly she?) spent half time letting the ball boys & girls try to put penalties past him.

Mr. Mitchell had brought an associate with him this evening. Felix. He introduced himself saying, 'I come to Spotland 2 or 3 times a year - whether I need to or not'. Felix is latin for 'to be lucky', He should come more often.

The second half started more brightly - Dale were getting into their stride. Thompson made way for St. Adam on 53. On 57 Dale were in the lead.

In almost a carbon copy of Dales first on Saturday, Kennedy released Rundle who provided a quality left foot cross which found USS Howe patrolling the near post. A looping header defeated Hoult. 1 - 0 Dale.

Ten minutes later endeavour and persistence from Rundle made it 2 - 0. Rundle had been excellent all game and this was a just reward.

Two minutes later Dale nerves were jangling when Weston bull-dozed his way into the Dale area and unleashed a low cross which found football's archetypal journeyman Jason Lee (14 clubs and counting, now minus pineapple) unmarked at the back post. He made no mistake. 2 - 1.

Any worries were calmed six minutes later when USS Howe broke clear down the right and unleashed a shell of a cross which found St. Adam arriving at pace in the box. A deft and clinical header left Hoult stranded. The quality of this goal was breathtaking - it wouldn't have looked out of place in the Premiership. 3 - 1.

At this point procedings were pretty well closed. Michael Johnson contrived to pass the ball past his own keeper on 85 to make it 4 - 1 for Dale and some over exuberant Dale defending earned County a penalty on 90 - neatly slotted home by Mackenzie to make it 4 - 2. But by this stage the result was beyond doubt.

Summary:

500+ miles. 5 wins on the spin. A dreary first half followed by some truly exceptional play from Dale. Now is the time to believe.

The match report will return in: Dale vs Dagger's - the return leg. Messers O'Shaunessey, Evans and Cootes - watch out!

Turner Watch:

Apparently working with disadvantaged kids on behalf of UNICEF. Whether they were disadvantaged before they met Mr. Turner is a matter of serious speculation.

8/04/09