The recurring dream

Gilligham FC 2 - 1 Rochdale AFC

(agg. 2-1)

Journey:

I have a dream. I have it a lot. It is always the same dream.

It goes like this:

I am stood on the Sandy. It is a hot sunny day, but dark and cool under the roof. Dale’s keeper (oddly I don’t recognise him at all) is dawdling over taking a goal kick. The Rochdale faithful are crowded against the fence whistling at the referee, the referee checks his watch and indicates that the keeper should get a move on. Eventually the unknown keeper launches the ball into the big, blue sky, the opposition centre half rises, nods the ball down and their midfielder scurries in to collect. The referee looks at his watch again, lifts the whistle to his lips - and blows.

A primal roar rises from all around Spotland. A couple of the more athletic youngsters vault the fence and run onto the pitch, then more, and more - soon the trickle becomes a flood. The stewards give up chasing people and open the gates. Soon everyone is on the pitch. Even me. The opposition fans are clapping and the Dale fans are singing, ‘AND NOW YOU GONNA BELIEVE US – THE DALE ARE GOING UP!’

That’s it. My dream.

It’s a good dream - but considering that after an 06:45 start in Rochdale I am stood in the Livingstone Arms in Gillingham it is probably likely to remain just that. A dream.

It would have made a brilliant ending to the 101 Project though – should it ever be made into a movie (which is very unlikely) I imagine they would play the music from Chariots of Fire over that bit – or possibly the theme tune from Bullseye, either’s good. I am here for part three of the Gillingham trilogy – the League 2 play-off semi-final, second leg.

Mr. Keane and I had tried to watch the Bury vs. Shrewsbury play-off game in the Livingstone – but were denied by a meeting of two Mancunian pub teams – whom everyone seemed to want to watch instead. In the end it didn’t matter. A mighty shout followed by a torrent of mischievous cackling from a small knot of Rochdale fans told us everything we needed to know. Bury had lost to Shrewsbury. On penalties. How awful.

With every Dale fan’s heart just a little lighter, something like a street party broke out outside. The pavement in front of the Livingstone filled up with Dale fans, people began spilling onto the road, the Police duly arrived – and the Dale fans dutifully spilled back again. Mr. Mitchell arrived, as did Mr. McCabe and the Playboy. The Royal Borough of Dagenham’s Cultural Attache, Mr. Evans, rang in to wish us luck and let us know he would be watching the game, in Exeter, wearing a Rochdale Shirt (does this seem slightly surreal to anyone else?). Rochdale’s chairman Mr. Dunphy popped in for a swift half and Mr. Culshaw put in a guest appearance accompanied by Mr. Brookes – who reminded me that today could be his last game commentating on Dale.

It wasn’t a total surprise, he had mentioned it before – after twenty years of eating, sleeping and breathing Rochdale AFC he has decided to retire at the end of the season.

For his work down the years – a trip to Wembley, if not a little more, would seem the only fair repayment. Under that blue sky, with the sun beating down on my face and two plucky Gill’s fans engaged in a good natured exchange of chants with 100 or more Dale fans – it seemed that it just might happen.

Weather:

They call it the garden of England for a reason – absolutely glorious.

Food:

Having fallen foul of the Priestfield pie once before (burnt to a cinder you may recall) I didn’t bother. However, the ladies at the Livingstone had put on a handsome selection of sandwiches at jolly reasonable prices. £3.00 for a baguette full of freshly roasted beef and horseradish has got to be the bargain of the season.

Ground:

I have done this one before – so I won’t dwell. It is a nice, tidy ground. I like it.

Tucked away at the back of the open Brian Moore stand sat (mostly stood) 600 Rochdale fans. In spite of being out numbered more than 10-1 by the home fans they managed to make a decent amount of noise in support of the cause.

As for me – well I was in the main stand, sat beside Mr. Culshaw in the press area. Due to technical thingumyjiggery I wouldn’t actually be commentating tonight – Mr. Culshaw would be doing updates by phone. So I was basically just a spectator - or if you will moocher - with one of the best seats in the house. Being a play thing of the media does have definite upsides.

Action:

Thursday night had been an exceedingly close encounter. Dale had turned in a performance Spotland had not seen the like of for weeks. For their part Gillingham had further emphasised that they are an excellent side, playing good football and with huge confidence in their abilities. All that said, it had ended 0-0. Which side was happier with the result? Gillingham could look forward to taking the tie home again with honours even after a few nervous moments – but Rochdale really did seem to have rediscovered their form at pretty much the perfect time. To wheel out a hoary old football cliché: It’s too close to call.

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

Rochdale started well. The Gill’s looked a little fretful in front of their hugely enthusiastic crowd. However, with a little less than fifteen minutes on the clock the hand of fate intervened – or more specifically, the hand of Denis Oli.

McArdle had attempted to clear the ball upfield – but failed to get any height on it. It collided with Oli’s out stretched hand and fell into his path, completely wrong footing Ramsden who was marking him. As Dale players appealed in vain to the referee, Mr. Oliver, Oli swept the ball forward to Barcham who flashed the ball towards Rochdale’s near post – where Simeon Jackson was lurking. Stanton threw himself at the ball – but Jackson was more alert. His clever, flicked finish left Fielding helpless. 1-0 Gillingham.

Undaunted, Dale threw themselves at Gillingham – but with the comfort of a goal, the Gill’s shook off their early jitters and snuffed out every one of Rochdale’s increasingly desperate foray’s forward. It looked like the game was basically over – Dale couldn’t find a way through and Gillingham were looking more confident by the minute.

With ten minutes of the half remaining – and with Mr. Culshaw and I predicting the worst, Rochdale scored!

A determined piece of work from Thompson delivered a teasing ball into the box, Lee Thorpe created an amusing amount of chaos in the Gillingham area and Dagnall swept in to do the honours. As his left footed shot soared into the top corner – I soared into the Kentish sky. 1-1!

Half time rolled up without further incident and I disappeared into the press room in search of free sandwiches - with a smile on my face and a little skip in my step. Maybe it wasn’t my dream – but a dream was still very much alive – and I’m really not that picky.

Sadly, it wasn’t to last. Ten minutes into the second half the Gill’s Nutter burst into the Dale box where a horribly ill-judged challenge from McArdle sent him sprawling. Mr. Oliver had a good look, then another – and then another. Just when it seemed he might wave play on – he pointed to the spot. Penalty.

Jackson stepped up. Fielding dived left. Jackson fired right. 2-1 Gillingham.

The balance of the game felt a bit dream like. But not a good dream. Having allowed Dale back in once, Gillingham showed no such charity the second time around. Dale pressed ever more frantically but found a solid Kentish wall in their path – and to compound matters, Mr. Oliver went on a booking frenzy – showing four Rochdale players yellow cards for seemingly very minor infractions.

The minutes and then the seconds ticked away. I tried prayer. It didn’t work.

Mr. Oliver blew his whistle. The players ran for the tunnel. The Gillingham fans invaded the pitch. I stood up. I applauded for a moment or two. I left.

Summary:

On the long drive home, Mr. Keane and I had plenty of time to reflect on the game.

Irrespective of the handball in the lead up to the first goal, Rochdale really should have defended better – instead of which they were appealing to the impassive Mr. Oliver.

Dagnall’s goal for Dale was fantastic. A very classy finish. For just a few minutes it made every Rochdale fan believe that another trip to Wembley could be on the cards.

The penalty was the result of no more than poor judgement. I doubt McArdle intended to bring Nutter down – but having committed himself to the challenge so early the consequences were pretty predictable.

No complaints. No recriminations. The better team won.

From the beginning of this little adventure I had felt unshakeably certain that the end of the 101 Project would be just like my dream. Sadly, it wasn’t.

The 101 Project actually ended on Mr. Keane’s patio. With a mug of tea apiece and looking out over the moor’s above Littleborough we talked about summer holidays in Turkey, pruning strategies for Japanese Maple tree’s, Britain’s Got Talent and the grand re-opening of the Caldermoor Hotel.

Not the end I had in mind – but a good one nonetheless. Especially the bit about the Caldermoor.

I guess we’re done then.

I still have a dream...

10/05/09

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

Low Expectations

Rochdale AFC 0 - 1 Gillingham FC

Journey:

I was waiting at the traffic lights at the top of Roch Valley Way, looking at the assembled Rochdale fans outside the Cemetery Hotel – when it suddenly struck me. I have done it! At the beginning of the season I said I would - and I have! I have been to every league game this season – well, after today’s game I will have.

Forty six games. All the way from Darlington in the north to Bournemouth in the south – from Exeter in the west to Gillingham in the east. It has been an awfully big adventure, complete with happy bits, sad bits, silly bits and quite a lot of pies – the thing is, whatever happens today - Dale are in the play-off’s. So it isn’t over just yet. Who knows, with a bit of good fortune another trip to Wembley could be on the cards and perhaps, just perhaps – the ‘P’ word. We’ll see I guess…

Having parked up I made my way to the Studd’s bar to meet Mr. Keane. Unfortunately he wasn’t around so I chatted to Mr. Culshaw for a moment – who gave me the team news and told me something so improbable that I had to check it wasn’t April 1st again - more on this later. As I said, ’No! seriously?’ for the sixth or seventh time – I got a text from Mr. Keane, to remind me that we were meeting in the Ratcliffe Arms.

This has been happening a lot lately – turning up in the wrong pub. I recently went to meet Mr. Keane in the Eagle to discover that we had agreed to meet in the Lion. In the words of the meerkat:- ’Not even sound same!’. Is this how dementia begins I wonder?

So having hot footed round the stadium I finally caught up with Mr. Keane and a full compliment of Keane jnr’s in the Ratcliffe Arms - and he had big news. Following a decision by the North Bury Under 9's (Roch Section) League – there will be no championship play-off with Chadderton. Littleborough and Chadderton have been declared joint champions and will both be promoted! Not bad for Keane jnr’s first season of amateur football – very well done to Keane jnr. and all of the Mighty Yellows.

So, for the last time in the regular season, Mr. Keane plus Keane jnr’s and I sauntered round to the Sandy Lane turnstiles, slipped inside and wandered over to where Mr. Mitchell stood waiting for us – just to the right of the goal, near the wonky piece of concrete that moves when you stand on it.

Weather:

Sun.

Food:

A tuna steak served with a warm salad of seasonal vegetables, drizzled with olive oil and balsamic vinegar… not.

Meat and potato pie – but as it is the last day of the season, I took John Lennon’s advice and gave peas a chance.

Away Support:

4-500. Jolly impressive considering the distance and that it is highly likely that they will be coming back again on Thursday night.

Dale’s play-off opponents could be anyone of Wycombe, Exeter, Bury, Gillingham, The Royal Borough of Dagenham or for that matter Shrewsbury – but the chances are it will be Gillingham. The Gill’s currently sit in 5th place with Dale in 6th – the play-off format is 4th plays 7th & 5th plays 6th. This means they would have to get to gods country again on Thursday night – while we will have to get to the damp, grey, marshes of Kent (Charles Dickens words – not mine) for either a lunchtime or teatime kick-off next Sunday. What Larks!

The atmosphere around Spotland was strange today. Last season Dale had romped into the play-off’s on the back of a stream of swashbuckling victories. This season had been very different – and it showed. The usual crop of fancy dress adorned revellers were absent – where last season Dale fans had slapped backs, shared their stories to uproarious laughter and skipped through the turnstiles - this time around there was a pinched, pensive, nervousness to the assembling throng.

Action:

Last game of the regular season and both teams already secure in the play off’s. Two things were likely: a fairly uneventful game and numerous changes to the normal line-up’s of both sides. Well, one bit of that statement would prove true…

Your team for today is: Fielding in goal. Newey, McArdle, Holness and Wiseman in defence. Thompson, Jones (G), Jones (M) and Rundle in midfield. Shaw and Buckley upfront.

Yes, you did hear that right - Rochdale’s lesser spotted striker, Jon Shaw, has returned from a reasonably profitable loan spell at Crawley (5 goals from 17 games). Such has been the shortage of goals lately that a striker in any kind of form is a priceless thing indeed.

So, the rather spritely Mr. Deadman got things underway and we waited for the anticipated bore draw to unfold. The thing was it didn’t.

With both sides strongly suspecting that they would meet again in just a very few days – there was a definite desire to ‘get a marker down’. The opening few moments were pretty breathless with both sides grabbing the chance to test one another – and it seemed that the Gill’s had struck the early blow when Southall found himself where Newey should have been and smashed the ball past Fielding. However, the linesman spared Newey and Rochdale’s blushes by indicating off-side.

In response, Dale struck back with efforts from Buckley and Shaw which had to be hacked off the Gill's goal line.

However just minutes later, even the linesman couldn’t save Dale. Lewis’s header forward found Curtis Weston who applied the afterburners and left Newey trailing in his wake. Newey attempted to recover but his despairing lunge only succeeded in felling Weston just inside the area – surely a penalty? Mr. Deadman remained unmoved and Fielding swept in to secure the ball. He fumbled it. Weston now back on his feet collected and drove the ball into the empty net as McArdle and Holness looked on helplessly. 1-0 Gillingham.

In the run into halftime another effort from Buckley along with efforts from both of the Jones boys looked likely to get Dale back onto level terms – but it was not to be.

Mr. Golden Gamble made a valiant attempt to whip the reluctant crowd into a lather - but even the prospect of a couple of hundred quid in someone’s back pocket wasn’t enough to break the miasma that had settled over Spotland. But like all great showmen – he had a secret weapon. For the first time in ages someone actually got up for the cross bar challenge - and he was absolutely shocking.

The thing was people started smiling and then laughing. The hapless cross bar challenger had achieved the seemingly impossible – people actually seemed to be enjoying themselves. Ten minutes into the second half any remaining long faces were set chuckling by a fantastic showbiz touch. Rochdale’s assistant manager and sometime player, David Flitcroft, pulled on a shirt and joined the game in place of Joe Thompson – just as Mr. Culshaw had said he would.

I absolutely loved Flitcroft as a player. He wasn’t quick or especially gifted as a footballer – but he was always 100% committed to the cause. I remember years ago in a League Cup game against Blackburn that he grabbed every opportunity he could to launch his own brother Gary (who was at Blackburn then) up into the night sky – to the strains of ‘FLITCROFT! – THERE’S ONLY ONE FLITCROFT! THERE’S ONLY ONE FLITCROFT!’ from the Sandy.

His performance today was typically Flitcroft – and had the Dale fans variously roaring with laughter, wiping hysterical tears from their eye’s or rolling in the aisles. The effect on Gillingham was extraordinary – they looked terrified of him – and after a few trade mark bone rattling challenges they had very good reason to be. No one in a Gill’s shirt seemed to want to go any where near him – meaning he had all the time and space in the world – so he started spraying inch perfect passes to every corner of the ground to hearty cheers. He was having the game of his life – and I am sure that there was more than just me wondering what might have happened had he filled the void left by Perkins and played at Wembley last season.

Inevitably he collected a yellow card, but he also produced one of Dale’s best chances of the half with a thumping drive which had Julian in the Gill’s goal scampering to cover it – oh and he was awarded man of the match.

It occurred to me that we were actually losing this game – but d’you know what, it just didn’t seem to matter – today had been the best day at Spotland for months.

Summary:

The game didn’t really matter and Dale lost it – although they produced more than enough efforts on goal to at least level the tie, only some great defensive work from Gillingham kept them out. Dale could also feel a little hard done by not to get a penalty in the first period when a Gill’s defender seemed to be trying to plant Joe Thompson inside the 18 yard box.

Newey was pretty dreadful in defence but Shaw was surprisingly good upfront and looked twice the player we had seen earlier in the season. He may live up to his pre-season billing yet. I really hope so.

While the Dave Flitcroft show was going on the final positions in League Two were resolved as follows:

1. Brentford 85

2. Exeter 79

3. Wycombe 78

4. Bury 78

5. Gillingham 75

6. Rochdale 70

7. Shrewsbury 69

Brentford, Exeter and Wycombe go up automatically. Bury, although on the same points as Wycombe miss out on automatic promotion on goal difference. One goal to be precise – could it be that meaningless consolation goal that Will Buckley scored at Gigg Lane perhaps?

Bury will play Shrewsbury in the play-off ‘s and Rochdale will play Gillingham.

A Sunday in Kent beckons – What Larks!

Turner Watch:

I have a confession to make. In the course of this season I may have made up some of the content in this section.

2/05/09

Sing!

Luton Town FC 1 - 1 Rochdale AFC

Journey:

The last away game of the season (play-off’s notwithstanding) and a change to the advertised programme. Today I was going to be a passenger.

The unwelcome attentions of a security van in midweek had rendered the medium sized Audi unfit for service – so at 09:30 hrs I found myself climbing into the medium sized Seat of Mr. Brookes.

Having covered so many miles this season, I have become rather used to having things ‘just so’. However, today my viciously maligned I-Pod would be taking a well earned rest and the psychologist’s dream that is Jane, my SatNav, would also be able to pop her feet up. It all just felt slightly uncomfortable – I have become a creature of habit – before I know it will own a pair of string-back driving gloves and a tweed hat.

Jane’s day of rest didn’t mean we would be without technology based route planning though. Mr. Culshaw has invested in a SatNav of his own. She is the same model as Jane, although being newer, comes in a more streamlined case.

Younger - and - slimmer! It is probably best that Jane wasn’t there – I would have never heard the end of it. To make matters worse, Mr. Culshaw has named his SatNav as well. He has named her, Jane. What have I started?

With Mr. Brookes at the helm and with Mr. Ashworth rounding out the party we headed for the motorway. M62, M60, M62, M6, M1, an assortment of dual carriage ways in Bedfordshire, the thoroughly cosmopolitan Luton High Street – and we arrived at Kenilworth Road – and then walked miles through narrow ginnel’s to get into the ground because the ‘main entrance’ does not lead to the press area.

On the journey I realised something. Long car journeys, as a passenger, are boring. Without something – like driving – to focus on, there is nothing to do. I even missed ‘Classic’ Jane’s random bonging – although ‘Pretender’ Jane did try to compensate – and perhaps in some way pay tribute to her batty relative – by switching herself off for no reason at all. This is how it begins Mr. Culshaw, this is how it begins…

Weather:

Having started under clear skies in god’s country we rapidly found ourselves in the middle of a torrential rain storm. The further south we went, the worse it got. Just as I began to think my decision not to bother with a coat was going to haunt me – slightly north of Luton, the leaden clouds parted and the sun came out.

Food:

I did inspect the hog roast which was being offered under one of the stands with speculative interest – before deciding against it. I’m not one for the semi-annual health panic that some brand of flu or other generates – but, well, y’know – swine flu!

Ground:

Having had time to size the place up properly – my first observation was that it doesn’t look like something that was built by human hands – it looks like something that grew.

Kenilworth Road looks like it germinated in the middle of some terraced houses and then slowly overwhelmed them – many of the entrances to the ground seem to go through the adjoining houses. No two areas of the ground match – no two rooves line up – the corporate area is a row of what appear to be holiday chalet’s.

Strange, chaotic, wonderful.

Somewhere in the midst of all this were 400 of the Rochdale faithful. Judging from their generally muted performance today, they couldn’t quite believe what they were seeing either.

Action:

If I was a Luton fan, a season which had delivered a mid-table finish and a trip to Wembley with some silver ware to show for it wouldn’t seem at all bad.

Then deduct 30 points - and it seems like a waking nightmare.

Due to the financial mis-doings of directors past, a club who were rubbing shoulders with Manchester United, Chelsea, Liverpool and Arsenal in my lifetime find themselves planning for life in the Football Conference. Luton were confirmed as relegated last week.

With little to play for but pride, the Luton faithful turned out in droves to watch the Hatters final home game in the Football League. 7000+ according to the man on the tannoy. I had expected long faces and an atmosphere akin to a morgue – but I couldn’t have been more wrong.

People glibly talk about ‘Dunkirk Spirit’ all the time – that very British way of smiling into the face of adversity and ‘getting on with it’. I saw it in spades at Kenilworth Road today. No wrath, no angst, no tears – most of the Luton fans I saw looked like they were going to a church picnic – grinning and joking as they went. Perhaps they should rename it Luton Spirit?

Your team for today: Fielding in goal. Ramsden, McArdle, Stanton & Kennedy at the back. Keltie and Toner in midfield – along with, Gary Jones! The second biggest cheer of the day from the Rochdale fans was reserved for the arrival of Jones on the pitch. Boy have we missed him. LeFondre, Thorpe and Dagnall upfront.

4-3-3 then. Somewhere in Mr. Hill’s office I imagine there is a book called ‘Advanced Association Football Formations – Theory and Practice’ (by Major (ret) Horace Wendell-Smethurst – published 1904) – or something like that. I would like to ask that whenever Mr. Flitcroft see’s the aforementioned Rochdale manager reaching for it – he smacks his hand and says, ‘NO! BURNY!’.

Luton lined up 4-4-2 and proceeded to carve Dale apart. The three man midfield just didn’t work – Jones looked unfit, which isn’t really a surprise, Keltie had forgotten how to make a pass or a tackle and Toner was running around like a lunatic trying to shore up the over pressurized defence. Consequently the front three – Thorpe central, LeFondre wide left and Dagnall wide right were little better than spectators.

On the other hand, Luton played with a freedom and fluidity which comes of already knowing your fate. Their passing was quick and instinctive. There wingers had pace and little fear. Their front-men were wily and alert.

With 7000 home fans singing their hearts out and cheering almost every Luton touch – you could understand why. The stand that Mr. Culshaw and I were commentating from was physically vibrating as the home fans stamped their feet and roared their team on.

All that said, somehow, Dale had managed to keep the scoreline at 0-0 – perhaps if they could struggle on to half time. a re-think might be possible.

Think again…

Around the half hour mark the pressure finally told. With the ball already cleared out of the area, Stanton decided to shove Chris Martin in the back, in the box, just yards from today’s official, Mr. Linnington. Penalty. Tom Craddock didn’t waste the opportunity. 1-0 Luton.

Fortunately, no more damage was done and when Mr. Linnington indicated the interval, 1-0 it remained.

This was going very, very wrong. Dale were not guaranteed play-off football as things stood – they still needed another point to make the matter certain. On the evidence so far it seemed a distant possibility.

Suitably fortified with as many free sandwiches as I could grab in the press room, I trudged back to the commentary area thinking big, gloomy thoughts. Automatic promotion – gone, and now the play-off’s in doubt as well.

Perhaps Mr. Flitcroft had intervened when Mr. Hill reached for Major (ret). Wendell-Smethurst’s tombe again at half time – because when they returned to the field, Dale lined up 4-4-2. The lacklustre Keltie was retired from the action in favour of Rundle and Dagnall, who had seemed Dale’s best player in the first period, also found himself replaced - by Thompson.

The effect was immediate. Luton suddenly didn’t have all the time in the world and Dale had pace and width. LeFondre almost making the most of a Rundle cross early on, which in the end he could only divert wide.

Minutes later Dale were back in the game. Great tenacity from Thompson delivered a cross from the right which Thorpe looked favourite to latch onto – until he was shoved out of the way by a Luton defender, just inside the area. The Hatters defence stopped as a man and looked sheepishly at Mr. Linnington – who was indicating play on.

The instant of delay proved critical. The ball made it’s way to Rundle, who cut inside and finding the Luton defence playing musical statues, had only Dean Brill in the Hatters net to negotiate. A cheeky close range tap did the rest. 1-1!

For the next twenty minutes or so, Dale had a serious effort at taking all three points back north. Efforts from Thorpe and LeFondre could have easily put Rochdale in the lead – but poor finishing, bad luck and a couple of excellent saves from Dean Brill meant that Dale did not capitalise.

With a point seemingly secure, Dale relaxed. Having put up a decent display in front of their fans, Luton seemed content to let them. The game meandered gently towards the final whistle.

The tannoy man reminded people not to run on the pitch - about thirty times. The stewards and then the Police formed a cordon around the playing area. A conga broke out behind me. Someone in the corporate holiday chalet’s unfurled a home made banner behind Mick Harford, the Luton manager, which read ‘LUTON LEGEND’ with a large arrow pointing to Mr. Harford. All the while the Luton fans sang.

Mr. Linnington blew his whistle. No one ran on the pitch. The home fans waved their banners, sang, cheered and clapped as the Luton players made a lap of the field.

Along with the numerous Dale fans who had stayed behind, I clapped to.

Summary:

Rundle’s goal proved to be enough to secure Dale a second successive crack at the play-off’s. The first half was poor – the second half, after the introduction of Rundle and Thompson, was excellent. It was also massively encouraging to see an admittedly tired looking Gary Jones play for 90 minutes.

In other news, I got a text from Mr Keane relating that the Mighty Yellows had secured another victory – 3 goals to 2 - to force a championship play-off with Chadderton. I gather that Keane jnr. made a number of brave saves on the way to victory – one of which had every Dad on the touchline wincing in sympathy.

So, play-off’s for both of our featured teams. What a season! I can feel a song coming on

Turner Watch:

Mr. Turner has been sneezing a lot this week – and has developed the ability to find truffle’s by smell alone. Probably nothing to worry about. Probably…

25/04/09

Duality

Rochdale AFC 0 - 2 Darlington FC

Journey:

I have seen Mr. Turner wearing a roman centurion’s helmet, a big pink wig and most unfortunately of all – shorts.

Nothing really prepared me for what I saw today.

I arrived at Mr. Turner’s place of employ a little after 11 to be greeted by himself, in a shirt and tie, sat in a big leather chair, behind a desk, looking the very essence of the modern business man.

Can this be the same Mr. Turner? Well the fact that he was scouring the internet for a website which would be showing today’s televised game did shatter the illusion somewhat.

So which one is the real Mr. Turner? The shirt and tie clad business man or the pink wig wearing socialite? Unsatisfyingly – the answer is both. He is not alone either.

Back in the day, Brian Moore was notorious on the rugby field for his uncompromising approach to the game. But, when he wasn’t dishing it out to the Welsh, French, Scotts and Irish – he was one of the most respected lawyers in London.

The fact is that everyone has at least two sides to them. Thinking or doing one thing while thinking or doing the absolute opposite is pretty normal. It is called duality.

Having drained a mug of tea I bid farewell to Mr. Turner - who was by now being polite and helpful to some prospective clients – and headed for Spotland.

As I wandered round to reception to collect my press pass there were huge Sky TV wagon’s filling up the car park – big bundles of cables trailing everywhere; the all weather pitch near the Studd’s bar had been turned into a funfair – complete with a giant inflatable dragon - and even at 11.30 there were hordes of smiling, replica shirt wearing, Dale fans milling around the ground. Even the closure of Sandy Lane due to a road accident hadn’t stemmed the tide of revellers.

I finally managed to elbow my way through the throng and joined the queue in reception. When my turn finally came, a besuited fellow slipped in front of me and announced to the lady on reception: ’Lord Mawhinney is here!’. I looked over my shoulder and sure enough – standing right behind me was the chairman of the Football League. I did consider bowing or curtseying (I’m not sure which is more appropriate for a Lord) but settled instead on getting out of the way.

With his Lordship ushered safely away from the common herd I collected my pass, slipped through the side door that leads onto the players tunnel and arrived pitch side.

The first thing I saw raised a smile and perhaps just a little tear. The big flag from Wembley was back! The last time I saw the flag it was dangling from beneath a little airship above the Wembley turf – today it was draped over one section of seating in the Wilbutts Lane stand.

Almost 12 months after that trip to Wembley I am still not quite certain how I feel about it. It was the most wonderful, most exciting, most harrowing and most disappointing day of my life. Stupid duality.

Weather:

The daffodils outside Aldi may have died off – but the balmy spring weather continues.

Short sleeves for most, although the cautious favoured a light jacket folded over the arm, the ‘cooler’ sections of the Dale faithful flicked theirs casually over their shoulders.

Blue skies, fluffy clouds, warm sunshine – if you listened carefully, you could almost hear the sound of 3500 Rochdalian faces changing from their normal blue/grey colour, through white and towards a healthy pink.

I was in the sunless main stand, in a short sleeved shirt, shivering.

Food:

This commentating malarkey has been great fun - I thank whatever gods were on duty that day for seeing fit to smile on me – and the free buffet at half time is a definite bonus… but, it lacks a certain meat and potatoyness. I really enjoy commentating – but I also enjoy a meat and potato pie while watching football. Stupid duality.

Away Support:

It is a long way from Darlington to Rochdale – especially when your hopes of promotion have been dashed by a points deduction and the game is on the telly anyway. Unsurprisingly, only a couple of hundred Quakers fans made the journey.

Action:

It was all really exciting. A bigger than normal crowd, an army of Sky folks doing complicated technical things, sometime Premiership referee, Andy D’Urso, calling the shots and a beautiful sunny day – a perfect setting to show off Dale’s talents to the world (and I do mean world – Mr. Turner finally found a Saudi Arabian web site which would be showing the game). When I joined Mr. Culshaw he was bouncing up and down like a kid at Christmas time. On a brief trip into the Studd’s bar we met Playboy Dan who had cast aside his usual suave reserve and was grinning from ear to ear. That said, he wasn’t as excited as Playboy jnr, who had put a penalty past Rochdale club mascot, Desmond the Dragon, at the funfair and won a pencil case – which he was showing off rather proudly. Today was going to be absolutely brilliant.

With Jones and Wiseman still injured, your team for today would be as follows: Fielding in goal. Kennedy, McArdle, Stanton and Ramsden in defence. Rundle, Keltie, Toner and Buckley in midfield. Dagnall and St. Adam upfront.

Amid enthusiastic singing from the Rochdale fans, waving flags and blaring horns – the game began. Fresh from a profitable Easter weekend where Dale appeared to have recovered from their recent stutters, a confident Rochdale rolled forward.

In truth it looked as if Dale planned to have the whole game wrapped up in the opening ten minutes – which funnily enough is exactly what happened, but not at all how I imagined.

Mr. Culshaw and I were still in the process of picking over a mouth watering move which had seen LeFondre beat his man and flash the ball across the face of goal - where Dagnall had failed to make contact by the width of a blade of grass with the keeper totally standed – when the party came to a shuddering halt.

From the clearance the ball made it’s way to Jason Kennedy who had a speculative punt from around twenty yards which went past the post, bounced off the hoardings and back onto the field. Well. That was what I thought had happened. But, why were the Darlington players celebrating? More importantly, why was Mr. D’Urso indicating a goal? There was a brief break in commentary as Mr. Culshaw and I caught flies.

It wouldn’t be until half time when I saw the television replay that it became clear that I had been an unwitting witness to the laws of physics having a little rest. Kennedy’s fourth minute, dipping, twisting, thunderbolt was utterly awesome. 1-0 Darlington.

The effect on the Rochdale fans was immediate and shattering. Total silence. The party had ended. Dale soldiered on and created a selection of good opportunities, but poor finishing, stout defending and the Darlo keeper, Kazimierczak’s un-nerving habit of being in just the right place at the right time meant that Dale could not find a way through.

Half time. In lieu of meat and potato I scarfed down as many sausage rolls as I could get my hands on, grabbed a cup of free coffee, watched Kennedy’s goal from a dizzying number of angles on the TV in the press room and then headed back to the commentary area. On my way back I passed a bloke using his mobile phone in the corridor. He looked very familiar although I couldn’t quite place him, so I smiled and said, ’you alright mate?’. He looked at me completely blankly. This was on account of him being retired Premiership referee Jeff Winter.

The second half got underway and Dale pressed forward once more. The Quakers almost put the ball in their own net, Buckley hit the post, Dale were denied what looked like a pretty clear penalty when a Darlington defender punched a Will Buckley shot away from danger and Dagnall lashed a volley wide of the post.

…and then Darlington scored again. Well sort off. A seemingly harmless header which appeared to be going out of play bounced back off the post. Fielding and McArdle had a ‘to me, to you’ moment which ended with McArdle poking it into his own net on 66 minutes. 2-0 Darlington.

I honestly can’t be bothered describing the rest. 2-0 Darlington it ended.

Summary:

A wonder goal and an embarrassing mistake. That was the story of today.

Dale weren’t actually that bad. They created a hat full of chances – but they simply couldn’t finish any of them. Nervous finishing, bad luck and a ruthlessly organised Darlo defence meant that having conceded so early Dale were really up against it.

More invention and drive from the Rochdale central midfield pairing of Keltie and Toner may have helped Dale’s cause today – but none was to be had. Gary Jones, please come back – we need you.

…and so, back to duality. Defeat today means that automatic promotion for Dale is pretty much impossible. Well, it is still ‘mathematically’ possible – but we all know what that means. After a season which held such promise, it looks like the play-off’s again. As I stood in the sunshine outside the Ratcliffe Arms with Mr. Keane, I felt utterly gutted. Play-off’s! What a complete let down! A total failure!

Hang on a minute!

2006/7 saw Dale go from being hot favourites for relegation at Christmas to almost making the play-off’s. At that time, Dale had only been involved in the play-off’s once in their history.

2007/08 saw Dale make the play-off’s and go all the way to the Wembley final.

2008/09 and Dale are one point away from guaranteeing the play-off’s for the second season in a row. Play-off’s here we come! Time to believe! We’ve never had it so good!

Stupid duality.

Turner Watch:

Having found the Saudi Arabian sports web site, it took him a further twenty minutes to spot the ‘English Version’ button. A brave effort with the Arabic though.

18/04/09

Getting away with it

Shrewsbury Town FC 1 - 1 Rochdale AFC

Journey:

11:30 am, Mr. Keane and Keane jnr. are stood on my doorstep. It is bank holiday Monday and the sun is shining.

Flushed with the success against Port Vale just two days ago there was real optimism in our ranks that Dale could continue their recovery against Shrewsbury today. Personally I would be delighted with a haul of four points from the two Easter games. Shrewsbury have pretty much the best home record in the league - so a point at the New Meadow would be a real achievement.

Whilst 4 points would probably not catapult Dale back into the automatic promotion berths it would leave them with three games and their fate very firmly in their own hands. If Dale won today - apart from me almost certainly having a case of the vapours - who knows what might be possible.

With my passengers safely installed we joined the M62 and headed south. Having travelled as far as the A627/M62 junction Jane had one of her senior moments and forgot where she was and where she was going. As has become the tradition this season the shotgun passenger is pressed into service as Jane's carer. Whilst Mr. Keane was perhaps slightly rougher than Messers Turner or Culshaw - he managed to coax her into doing SatNav things once more and we were on our way with Jane bonging happily to herself.

M62, M60, M62, M6, M56, M53 - Wales. Does it seem odd to anyone else that a trip to a town in England requires a detour through the land of expensive road signs? I mean c'mon: Wrexham/Wrecsam! Something similar had been planned for Rochdale - using local names for places on road signs - however, there is apparently some legislation on the use of profanity on public signage. The plan was abandoned.

Wales has plusses and minuses. It is extremely beautiful - I like a bit scenery the other side of my windscreen as you know. Unfortunately, this means the place is infested with English tourists - with caravans. As the Welsh borders are a roundabout rich environment the influx of caravans means only one thing - traffic jams. A journey which Jane had calculated to take 1hr 45mins took 2hrs 20mins.

Thus somewhat agitated and muttering dark oathes against the British Caravan Club I arrived at the New Meadow just after 2pm.

Weather:

Hot. Perfect conditions for sitting in a tail-back behind a caravan with an 'I heart Wales' sticker in the rear window.

Food:

With Mr. Keane and Keane jnr. despatched to the away end I joined Mr. Culshaw in the 'retail concourse area' beneath the main stand. In english that means - there are some shops. As we made our way to the commentary positions I picked up a chicken and mushroom pie - which by my reckoning is practically salad. Well it is nearly summer afterall.

Ground:

I have a confession to make. I did a bad thing. I am not proud of myself.

When I arrived at the New Meadow, Mr. Keane made a very valid point. Unless you are an official or an invited guest - you can't actually park at the ground. You have to park miles away and then get a bus back again.

Following the trials and tribulations of getting to Shrewsbury - I wasn't in the mood for yet more delays, so I made a quick assesment of the situation. Based on experience of the parking arrangements at football grounds, the general quality of stewards and the fact that I was resplendent in an official looking Rochdale AFC polo shirt - I decided to tell a huge fib.

I pulled up to the gate, wound the window down, looked the steward square in the eye and said: 'Mike Brookes, Rochdale Football Club'. The steward looked quizical and slightly flustered, so I followed up with: 'you have my car park pass'. 'You need to see him', he said and pointed to another steward just inside the gates. No going back now then.

I pulled up next to the designated steward and told my whopper again: 'Mike Brookes, Rochdale Football Club'. This chap really did look harrassed as he fumbled with various clip boards and such, so I followed up with: 'you have my car park pass'. Now, what I knew - and he should have known was that Mike Brookes was already in the ground. Fortunately his nerve cracked first - 'they've made a right mess of this today you know - here you are sir'. I smiled patronizingly, grabbed the pass and sped off. I got away with it!

I had been to the Gay Meadow a couple of times in the past, but this would be my first visit to the New Meadow. It really is rather splendid. I got quite excited about Dean Court having three matching stands - the New Meadow has four! My only criticism - if it really is one - is that it looks a little anti-septic. Perhaps just a bit too new. That said, it glittered and sparkled like a shiny new penny in the Easter sunshine. Very pretty.

To complete the effect something in the order of 800 Rochdale fans had made their way through the traffic jams to watch the game.

Action:

Unsurpisingly, nothing of note has happened since Saturday - so lets crack on with the team news.

Gary Jones continuing injury problems would once again rule him out - although he did appear briefly to do some light training before the game. Wiseman looks set to be out for the rest of the season having been diagnosed with a hernia. Following his injury on Saturday, Higginbotham would also be unavailable. Stanton would return from his suspension.

Fielding in goal. Ramsden, McArdle, Stanton & Kennedy at the back. Thompson, Keltie, Toner and Buckley in midfield. LeFondre and Dagnall upfront.

With the sun beating down from a clear blue sky, Mr. East got things started.

Now, I could dwell on what happened next - but it would be enough to say that Rochdale got a pretty comprehensive footballing lesson from the men of Shropshire. Ok then, lets dwell...

St. Adam threatened the Shrews goal early on with what ended up being a fairly tame effort - aside of that it was all Shrewsbury. Dale old boy Grant Holt had the travelling fans heart's racing when he attempted to beat a poorly positioned Fielding - from around forty yards. The effort ultimately went wide - but not before Fielding smashed into post as he frantically back pedalled and then collapsed into an undignified heap. A collective sigh of relief rose from the away end as Fielding regained his feet, gave himself a shake and carried on.

The first half was torrid for Rochdale. Once, twice, three times the Dale net gaped - at the mercy of the men of Shropshire - but their efforts flew over or wide. Only good fortune and the tenacious efforts of the Dale defence prevented the Shrewsbury avalanche bearing fruit - the reinstatement of Stanton proved critical in holding the the Shrews at bay.

As I made my dash for the comforts of the press room, a replica shirted Shrewsbury fan (probably espying my RAFC polo shirt) burst from the crowd and shouted, ' I bet you're embarrassed aren't you?'. It was a fair point - but with things still poised at 0-0 and considering the Shrews stanglehold on the game, quite who should be more embarrassed was open for debate.

The press room was pretty rubbish. Even allowing for my undignified gallop from the commentary area the buffet had already been stripped clean, save for two rather curly sandwiches - which I ate anyway. With a cup of free coffee in hand I trudged back to my commentary position. Mr. Keane's texted half time update pointed to the brilliance of Stanton in the first half and that he was developing a very healthy tan in the spring sunshine. I settled into the frigid shade of the main stand and waited for Shrewsbury to deliver the killer blow.

I didn't have to wait long.

Two minutes into the second half that man Holt struck.

An embarrassing mix up between Keltie and Toner saw them both try to clear the ball on the edge of the area. The resulting tangle spewed the ball out to the Shrews left - Moss fed the ball back into the area where Holt was prowling, his back to goal, McArdle shepparding him. Holt turned, Holt drove, Holt scored. 1-0 Shrewsbury.

The home fans heaved a sigh of relief and the home team relaxed. The intensity of the first half passed - Shrewsbury sat back. Dale toiled but got little change from an organised and disciplined Shrews back line.

Dale were not great. In spite of a good deal of effort and the introduction of Thorpe and Rundle they struggled to produce any serious effort on the Shrewsbury goal. The thing was - Shrewsbury were quite happy to watch Rochdale's hapless efforts and retired further and further into their own half.

Mr. Culshaw and I speculated along the usual footballing lines as to what might get Dale back into the game: (A) a moment of brilliance, (B) a mistake or (C) a set piece.

On seventy seven minutes options A and B put in an appearance.

With the game seemingly won Shrewsbury had set themselves to protect their hard won lead. In what appeared to be a final desperate throw of the dice - Dale went 4-3-3. Rundle being given a free role in midfield.

Perhaps the men of Shropshire were confused when Rundle popped up on the right - because he had acres of space to deliver a ball forward from just inside the Shrews half. Coughlan's untidy clearance found it's way directly to Dagnall. From twenty yards out, Dagnall controlled, Dagnall launched, Dagnall scored. 1-1!

With thirteen minutes left on the clock Shrewsbury repeated their performance at Spotland and collapsed. Dale scented blood in the water and pressed forward. Having set themselves for defence, Shrewsbury seemed incapable of recovering from their tauper. The closing moments were all Rochdale and but for the thickness of a coat of paint, Thorpe's late header could have delivered a thoroughly unlikely winner for Dale.

When Mr. East finally indicated the end of procedings, things were all square at 1-1.

Summary:

Gutsy. No one would have been surprised if Rochdale had given in at 1-0 down. But they didn't. In spite of an untrammeled battering in the first half Rochdale managed to hold themselves together - even after some sketchy defending had led to Shrewsbury's opener, Dale continued to persevere.

Admittedly, Dagnall's goal represented pretty much the best of Dales's efforts on goal - but what an effort! He had looked to be building to something against Port Vale - today he delivered.

Sometime's you footbal teams to death - sometimes you get away with it. Dale stay fifth.

Turner Watch:

Mr. Turner has got talent - Ant and Dec beckon.

13/04/09

Back to basics

Rochdale AFC 1 - 0 Port Vale FC

Journey:

The journey back from Bournemouth had been a long and miserable one. I have heard people use the word 'inconsolable' before. I never really understood exactly what it meant until last Saturday.

Still, as the week wore on the disappointment and anguish began to fade and I remembered that there have been worse times following Rochdale AFC. Much worse times. Many much worse times.

Lets face it - even after the 'Dean Court Demolition', Dale are still fifth in the league with five games to play. A win today and with other results going Rochdale's way - they could bounce back up to third. Such is the nature of League Two this season. It is just too close to call.

Back through the mists of time, long before I became a plaything of the media, the format for match days was simplicity itself. A pre-match pint or two with Messers Keane and Mitchell and then two hours on the Sandy, just to the right of the goal, near the wonky bit of concrete that moved when you stood on it. Possibly followed by a post-match pint or two.

A simple basic formula.

After last weekend, we needed to get back to basics. I hung up my headset - cast aside the allure of the free buffet - eschewed the chance to once again gawp stupidly at Keith Hill as he made his post match utterances and met Mr. Keane for a pre-match pint in the Studds Bar. Suitibly fortified we sallied forth to meet Mr. Mitchell on the Sandy, just to the right of the goal, near the wonky bit of concrete that moves when you stand on it.

In times of trouble - go with what you know.

Weather:

After my clothing disaster at the home game vs. Barnet at the start of the season where I misjudged the balmy conditions and spent the whole game sweating like a cart horse under my big coat - I opted for a light summer shirt today. Blue skies, a few cotton wool clouds and sun! sun! sun! As I was driving to Spotland I saw leaves on the tree's - no really. Leaves!

Food:

Am I meant to be on a diet? Yes, I think I am. I'm pretty sure I agreed to it.

The good news is that this week's guest pie was diet meat and potato. Just like classic meat and potato - but only 45% fat. As I say, just like classic meat and potato - but they add the word 'only' - which is nice.

Away Support:

3-400. A decent turnout considering the Easter traffic. Maybe they were hoping that Issac Newton would intervene on their behalf again.

Action:

In the aftermath of the Bournemouth game Mr. Hill had given an uncharacteristically down beat interview which had most Dale fans hoping that anything slicy, staby or tablety had be removed from his immediate reach. In response to Mr. Hill's shell shocked summary of the trip to Dean Court - something very odd happened. A ringing endorsement of Mr. Hill, Mr. Flitcroft, the players, the staff and just about anyone connected with Rochdale AFC - from the chairman, Mr. Dunphy.

Now then, for those who follow football, getting the 'full backing of the chairman' has an ominous ring to it. Normally it can be translated as, 'I wouldn't be making any plans to redecorate your office young man'. But this time it wasn't. It was a bit more like a protective father having a word with the neighbours after his favoured son's 16th birthday party had gotten slightly out of hand and the Police, Fire Brigade and Coast Guard had to be called out.

The message was pretty clear. I'm proud of the boy. He's a good lad. Don't judge him on that alone. He will make it right. Quite touching really.

In other news, Dale keeper James Spencer has gone to Chester on an emergency loan. After his fateful 'Charge of the Light Brigade' at Edgeley Park last season - few Rochdale fans have truly forgiven him. His departure went unremarked and unquestioned.

After the events of last weekend it wasn't a surprise that Mr. Hill elected to ring the changes. Fielding would remain in goal. Marcus Holness would make a rare appearance at centre half along side McArdle. Wiseman would drop to the bench, Ramsden (hair growing back nicely now) would take his place at right full back. Kennedy kept his place at left full-back.

Toner would retain his place at centre midfield but would be partnered by Clark Keltie, Mark Jones was not even considered worthy of a place on the bench. Buckley would re-take his place on the left and in a real turn up for the books - Kallum Higginbotham would start on the right. Following a season where he has played little part for Dale and spent a good chunk of the season out on loan - perhaps this would be the chance for last season's darling to rekindle his fortunes.

In the absence of Thorpe, LeFondre (minus pink boots) and Dagnall would lead the line.

The Valiants have had a pretty indifferent season. They loiter in mid-table - there is slim danger of relegation and scant chance of the play-off's for them. From the opening whistle it was pretty clear that they would really rather just get this over with.

On the other hand, Dale had a point to make. Nothing but a win would do today. From the opening moments it was pretty clear that Messers Hill and Flitcroft had also decided to fall back on what they know best. Dale attacked.

Higginbotham and Buckley set to their task with gusto. Higginbotham in particular was causing the Port Vale defence significant issues. Dagnall and LeFondre were also getting a good deal of joy against the Vale centre backs - neither of whom were of great stature or particularly mobile.

To a soundtrack of the Noisy Boys bellowing 'Barmy Army' in a rather complicated descant, Rochdale rolled forward again and again. However, in spite of all the pressure, a Tom Kennedy freekick which the Vale keeper, Martin, nudged over the bar (to be awarded a goal kick!) and a Chris Dagnall drive which fizzed wide were all that Dale had to show for their labours. Frantic Port Vale defending and a few slices of luck were enough to keep the visitors in the tie.

The torrent of Dale attacks subsided slightly and as is the way with these things, Vale got their first serious chance on goal. A corner directed back accross goal by Taylor found McCombe in an indecent amount of space - his resulting header cannoned back of the upright with Fielding nowhere in sight.

Startled into action Rochdale rolled forward once more. Just after the half hour Higginbothom went to earth following a strong but fair challenge as he drove towards the byline. The seconds ticked by but there he remained - prone on the turf. The Physio, Mr. Thorpe, was summoned and in due course Higginbotham was carried to the touchline.

While he was being treated, Dale continued to press. On 36 minutes the breakthrough finally came. Dagnall had chased a ball which seemed to be heading out of play for a goal kick. Just at the moment where it seemed his efforts would be in vain, he stretched out a leg and hooked the ball accross the face of the goal. From all of one foot and through a combination of stomach and thigh, Buckley smuggled the ball past Martin. 1-0 Dale!

Maybe it was the release of the frustration which had built up through the week, maybe it was just relief - whatever it was, Spotland exploded. The celebrations were only slightly tempered by the sight of Higginbotham being carried back to the dug-out, clearly in pain. Thompson would replace him.

All in all a good 45 minutes from Dale. A goal to the good against a side who had offered very little and a creditable performance from all in Rochdale colours.

Half time was spent crowded around Mr. Mitchell's fancy phone trying to get the scores from the other League Two games from t'internet and trying to work out the horribly complicated maths which would reveal where Dale stood in the league. In the face of a slow internet connection and the collective mathematical capabillities of a meat and potato pie - we gave up. Rochdale could go as high as fourth was as much as we could surmise.

After the thrills and spills of the first period the second half was a far more measured affair. Vale occasionally probed forward but to little effect. Rochdale had a couple of opportunities to extend their advantage including a very late effort from Dagnall which forced a very good save from Martin. Aside of the home debut of Gary Madine and the late introduction of Port Vale fan favourite, Danny Glover, to a gale of derision from the away fans - there is little else to remark on.

1-0 Dale.

Summary:

A good first half followed by a non-event of a second half.

Dagnall had a truly exceptional game - not just for his efforts in creating the goal - his all round play, endeavour and energy throughout the game was exemplary. It was just a shame that he couldn't get himself on the scoresheet as well.

After last weekend's comprehensive hammering it was vital that Dale turn in a good performance. This was far from vintage Rochdale - but with three points in the bank, Messers Mitchell, Keane and I could tuck into our post match refreshments with renewed optimism.

Four games remain and Rochdale are fifth.

Turner Watch:

The eagle eyed amongst you will have spotted that Mr. Turner was not mentioned in my little meander down memory lane earlier. There is a reason for this. Mr. Turner was not part of the original line-up - he only joined our happy little band in the summer of 2003 after I discovered him under a pile of coats on a Stag-Do in Whitley Bay
.

In my darker moments, I wish I was not quite so inquisitive.

11/04/09