Oh so quiet

Rola Cola Sponsored English League Two
Rochdale AFC 1 - 3 Bradford City FC

Journey

Things I know about snow: It is cold and it is white - yeah, I know, amazing huh?  Every flake is unique - which really just shows that God has way too much time on his hands these days.  The land of the fried Mars Bar is under several feet of it and has been for months - kilts are probably unwise at the moment.  What I didn't know or had never noticed was what snow does to sound.  As I made my way to my car this evening in a swirling cloud of cold, white, uniqueness it occurred to me that it was absolutely dead quiet.  I could see cars driving past, dogs running around, youth's casing local houses - all in eerie silence.  It was like the whole town had been turned down to 1.  

Things got stranger when I hit Roch Valley Way.  I arrived at the dip near the waterworks expecting to join a massive queue.  Apart from the snow, I found that I was quite alone.  Where was the expected invasion of the Bradford massive?  According to impartial Bradford sources they brought about 9,000,000 last season - according to the message boards, they confidently expected to bring more than that this time.  Perhaps they exagerated?  Perrish the thought - It must be the wrong night - that would explain it.

Perhaps not.  The snow dancing in the floodlights above Spotland and the trickle of silent, overcoated folks trudging up Sandy Lane suggested it was the right night.  Where were the Bradford massive?

As I wandered across the carpark more silent folks padded by, maybe it was just the muffling effect of the snow but they seemed more subdued than normal and without the roar of 9,000,000 (or more) Bantams fans, it really was oh so quiet.

Weather

Cold, white, uniqueness - mostly blowing straight in my face.

Food

Well, the predicted invasion from the east may have been over stated a bit - but my trip to the pie queue did turn up one exotic visitor.  An American!  Yeah, a real live one - outside of America and everything.  He was behind me in the queue.  He asked what was on the menu.  His local guide explained that there was a choice of pies.  He repeated the word 'pies' but somehow managed to make it sound like 'intestinal parasites'.  Priceless.

Away Support

About 600 or so at kick off rising to around 1000 as the game wore on.  I guess the cold, white, uniqueness on the trip over't thill was pretty heavy.  Fair play to the ones who braved the elements.  Snow or no snow, they were not quiet.

News 

   

When I'm calling you.  Dale's loanee keeper, Frank Fielding, has been called up to the England under 21 squad for the European Championship qualifier against Greece.  Great news for Frank - although it will mean he is likely to miss the Rotherham game next week.  Beware Greeks bearing gifts.

Action

Your team for tonight:

GK: Fielding

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

Mid: Obadeyi, Taylor, Jones, Atkinson

For: Dagnall, O'Grady

Bench:  Arthur, Haworth, McArdle, Flynn, Toner, Kennedy(J), Higginbotham

After the frolics of El Classico Del Norte at the weekend something a little more sedate was in order.  Tonight's visit of Bradford City promised just that.  Bradford have had what could be politely described as a disappointing season - including a comprehensive rout at the hands of Rochdale back in December.  A good team, a massive fanbase and big aspirations could do nothing to halt their slide into the lower half of the table.  After defeat to That Famous Old Club a few weeks ago, Stuart McColl emotionally called time on his tenure at Valley Parade.  The arrival of ex-Wycombe boss Peter Taylor into the Bantam's hot seat hadn't improved things much - the weekend had seen a comprehensive defeat to Accrington Stanley.  Who are they?  I suspect Mr. Taylor knows only too well now.

In the un-natural quiet caused by God's icy handy work, 2000 or so frozen Rochdalian faces (and one American) peered through the swirling flakes in expectation of another convincing Dale victory.  Mr. Sarginson got things underway.

In spite of the change of leadership, the Bantams had lost none of their taste for the physical aspects of the game we had seen in this fixture last season and proceded to bludgeon their way forward. Just ten minutes in, their ultra direct approach payed dividends.

From a Bradford corner, Michael Flynn tested Fielding who improvised a save with his feet but as the ball cannoned back out into the melee in the penalty area, Matt Clarke stuck out a foot and via a couple of deflections - the ball arrived in the back of the net.  1-0 Bradford.

2000 voices fell silent - and it was nothing to do with the snow.  The thickening blizzard thankfully spared most Rochdalian ears from the worst excesses of the swelling Bantams support's delirious celebrations.

Dale toiled to find a way back into the game but for all their exertions could only summon up an errant shot from Gary Jones and a testing free kick from Tom Kennedy, which was well saved by Glennon.

At the other end, Bradford's energy and tenacity had the hitherto solid Dale defence scampering around like headless chickens.  Every forray forward from the Bantams seemed to threaten another goal.  Hanson, O'Brien and the mercurial Evans all had chances to tighten the Yorkshireman's grip on the tie.  Only wayward shooting saved Rochdale.

Bradford had clearly watched the video's of Dale's performances this season and had correctly deduced that silencing O'Grady was a big step towards silencing Dale.  Matt Clarke performed 'the duty' for the Bantams tonight.  It was far from pretty and mostly beyond the laws or spirit of the game - but Mr. Sarginson (no stranger to baffling decisions) saw no problem with Clarke's rough housing.

As the first half ebbed away, Clarke made one small mistake.  He allowed himself to be distracted by Dagnall.  The ball was channelled left where O'Grady found the lighter attentions of Williams much more to his liking.  Driving to the byline he outmuscled the young defender and flashed the ball to the near post where Dagnall's recent drought came to an end.  1-1!

The volume went up, Mr. Sarginson indicated the interval and Mr. Culshaw was despatched along with his considerable charm to liberate some hot soup.  A three bar electric fire would also have been welcome - but even Mr. Culshaw has limits.

I haven't mentioned the Rochdale Dynamics dance troupe for a while.  In truth I am not a massive fan of this kind of half-time frippery.  But tonight even I was obliged to applaud.  In a swirling gale, with snow bucketing down and little protection beyond a sparkly catsuit and a broad smile the girls strutted their stuff for the huddled masses.  Brave as lions.

...And so to the second half.  They may have been frozen, but the Dale players ears seemed to be a little warmer when they returned to the field.  They immediately set about righting the wrongs of the first period.  With the arrival of Higginbotham and Haworth around the hour mark Dale had fuly regained the initative.  But in spite of enjoying the majority of possession, tenacious Bantams defending limited Dale to a handfull of authentic chances, Dagnall and O'Grady going closest.

As the final ten minutes arrived and both sides appeared to have settled for a point, Luke O'Brien charged the Dale defences.  He slipped two challenges before being unceremoniously dumped to earth by Stanton.  Stanton recieved a yellow card and Bradford recieved a freekick on the edge of the area.

Enter on loan Liverpool man, Robbie Threlfall.  He'd had a quiet game to this point - not for much longer.  He lifted the ball over the wall, it dipped acutely, Fielding flapped, it cannoned back off the under side of the bar and went in off the back of Fielding's head.  2-1.

Stony, cold silence swept around Spotland.  Apart from in the away stand - where an impromptu fiesta broke out.

Seven minutes later all you could hear was the sound of feet making their way to the exits.  Dale had pushed forward, seeking another equaliser, but to no avail.  Bradford countered through the depleted defences at pace.  A ball from the left was chested down by Hanson and into the path of Gareth Evans.  He didn't even break stride.  From twenty five yards he unleashed a shot which arrowed past Fielding's groping hands and into the top corner.  3-1.

The snow had stopped by now and the celebrations in the away stand rang out across the borough long after the players had left the field.

Speak Your Brains

Your cast for tonight: Mr. Keane and me.

• Nice finish from Dagnall.
• That's about it...
• The Dale bar, scene of seething crowds, excited chatter and jovial boasts in recent months was almost empty and oh so quiet.                 

Look Mum! Look!

Rola Cola Sponsored English League Two

Bradford City FC 0 - 3 Rochdale AFC

Journey

McDonalds.  Somewhere in Bradford. 

If you thought sports journalism was all limo's, caviar and exotic ladies.  It isn't.  Mostly it involves several large men packed into a small car schlepping along some motorway or other, food is of the 'fast' variety and as for the ladies - that must have been going on somewhere else.  It is not in any way glamorous.  That said, from time to time, it can be absolutely brilliant - but more of that later.

So, back to McDonalds.  You might suspect that with five football journalists together and a big game in the offing - Dale could go top of the table with a win tonight - there would be a furious debate about formations, tactics and the merits of zonal vs man marking. If you did think that, you would be disappointed.  The discussion was actually about 'The Worst Dale Player's Ever'.  This is a pretty fertile area for discussion - as you can appreciate. 

Richard Green - signed-on, got injured, never actually played.

Simon Coleman - the architect of Dale's 7-1 hammering by Shrewsbury in 2001.

Tommy Jasczun - where to begin on this one?

Warren Goodhind - had his own section in most referee's notebook.

There were plenty more besides - plenty more.   Graham Lancashire was briefly considered - but despite only playing 1 game in 4 due to an eye sprain or similar -  he was excluded because when he did play he was actually quite good and a bit of a character. 

The undisputed winner - by miles - no dissenting voices on this one - was Michael Simpkins.  A left back by trade (although trading standards may have a word or two to say about that), this man gave each and every one of us hope that our naive dreams of a career as a  professional football may not be quite dead.  He spent much of his time at Dale enjoying an early bath, creating goals for the opposition by never being quite where he was meant to be or offering Dale fans 'out in the carpark' for questioning his ability (this was during a game).  The most amazing thing is - he is still playing, for Retford Town.  Michael Simpkins - we salute you.   

With burgers consumed and after a brief delay for Mr. Jones to finish his complimentary 'student' McFlurry - we squeezed back into Mr. Culshaw's car and headed for Valley Parade.

Weather

Winter really arrived today.  A heavy frost this morning and frigid temperatures for the rest of the day.  As Messers Ashworth, Culshaw, Jones and Sharples assembled at the club shop - you would be forgiven for thinking that the Wombles had reformed.  Sweaters, cardy's, big coats, scarves, gloves and hats were heavily in evidence.  Snow was a distinct possibility. 

But as is the way of things - we had all got it wrong.  An oilskin and a souwester would have been more appropriate - it absolutely tipped it down.

Food

Not meat and potatoe pie tonight - cherry bakewell's.  There was loads in the press room - and doughnuts and french fancies.  I made a bit of a pig of myself.  The best part was that having cleared the plates - a nice lady called Margaret popped out from behind her counter and layed out more.  To be honest It was a mercy when the game got started.

Ground 

It will be brilliant when it's finished. 

Half of the ground is propper Premier League quality - the other half kind of isn't.  That said, with 11,000 home fans cheering the Bantams on you got some sense of the glory days at Valley Parade - when Man U and co were regular guests.  Tucked away in a corner were about 700 Dale fans - they gave it their best - but being outnumbered better than 10-1 - they struggled to make themselves heard.

News

Revolving doors.  Keltie returned from Chester and Shaw returned from Barrow, unfortunately due to the new revolving doors which have been installed at Spotland - they were ejected in the general direction of Gateshead.

Hokey Cokey #2.  After a handfull of brief and slightly forgettable outings for Scot Spencer and Marcus Manga on non-contract terms, they were both extended the opportunity to be elsewhere.  Everyone at May Contain Football wishes them luck in their future endeavours.  In their stead, Vale Park fan favourite Danny Glover (no, not that one) has joined Dale on a one month loan.

It's Back.  Keith Hill has once again been nominated for the 'looks like a soft drink bottle - but in silver' award - sometimes known as the League Two manager of the month award for November.

Action

Your team for tonight:

GK: Heaton

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

Mid: Thompson, Taylor, Kennedy(J), Atkinson

For: Dagnall, O'Grady

Bench: Taberner, McArdle, Flynn, Hogan, Toner, Jones, Glover

Just two changes from the side which saw off Notts County last week.  Kennedy returned from suspension and slotted in at left full back and Thompson replaced the once again injured Buckley.

As the rain rolled in over an already boggy Valley Parade pitch Dale steeled themselves for a potentially tough game.  Bradford had swept a timorous Dale team aside in this fixture last season and shown themselves to be no stranger to the physical aspects of the game in the return tie - although Dale won handsomely.  Add to that Rochdale's habit of getting a nose bleed when chances to top the division have presented themselves before and you will understand why Dale's recent good form was far from my mind as Mr. Foster got things started.

It started very evenly.  Evans for Bradford getting into good positions and enjoying good service from Dale old boy Simon Ramsden playing in a unfamilliar wing-back role.  Rochdale would have early chances through Dagnall.  A touch to many from Daggers saw a shot blocked out by the Bantams defence and minutes later Dagnall appeared to have the goal at his mercy when the ball unexpectedly disappeared down a divot in the sodden 18 yard box - leaving Dagnall five yards ahead of the ball and somewhat non-plussed.

For all of Bradford's tidy forward play - their defence looked distinctly shaky - typified by Dagnall's next chance.  A poor clearance from Williams fell to the feet of Dagnall just inside the Bantam's half, a burst of pace undid Rehman and Dagnall's scuffed shot flew through Eastwood's legs and into the back of the net.  1-0 Dale!

Minutes later Reham found himself outmuscled by Dagnall - and spotting Eastwood off his line the Dale striker tried a dipping long range shot - but with the keeper beaten his effort went well over.

In case you were wondering - Chris Dagnall wasn't the only man on the pitch - it just seemed that way.  With the half hour approaching he was in the think of it again.  O'Grady's cross found him almost unmarked in the area.  Eastwood paried his first strike - but only back into the prowling strikers path - Dagnall's improvised finish bounced over the sprawling Eastwood and into the unguarded goal.  2-0 Dale!

In what seemed like a heartbeat Joe Thompson had the ball in the net - but a questionable off-side decision spared Bradford further blushes.  The half played out with further efforts from Dagnall, another from Thompson and O'Grady and Atkinson also went close.  But for Eastwood's gymnastics - the Bantam's could have been in a world of trouble.  Heaton had barely had a save to make all half.

As I bounded into the press room at half time a Bradford official commented that it was like watching a cup tie - against a team from a higher division. 

This was all going rather splendidly - Bournemouth were losing to Barnet meaning that Dale would be top tonight provided the Cherries didn't turn things around.  I toddled off in search of Margaret and her cake tin a very happy man indeed.

Bradford elected to retire Zesh Rehman from the action at the start of the second period - replacing him with Bateson.  The change seemed to make a difference.  Bradford poured forward at every opportunity assisted by a powerful gale at their backs and the words of a furious Stuart McColl no doubt ringing in their ears - the first ten minutes of the half were played almost exclusively on the fringes of Dale's penalty area.  Despite the pressure - not a single serious effort materialised for the Bantams. 

With the hour mark approaching Higginbotham - who had replaced a limping Thompson - picked up the ball on the right and released Dagnall with a neat pass.  Dagnall rounded the last defender - but his shot was well blocked away by Eastwood.  Sadly for Eastwood - only as far as O'Grady.  At full stretch the on-loan Oldham man lashed the ball past the stranded keeper.  3-0 Dale!

Bradford head's dropped.  Dagnall and Higginbotham could have extended the lead still further - Higginbotham going closest when one on one with Eastwood, but his shot squirmed wide of the post.

Mr. Foster finally saw fit to bring matters to a close.  The Bradford fans - who, in spite of the performance, had been 100% behind their team throughout the game - began to drift away with thoughts of a takeaway supper in mind.  But over in a corner of one stand no-one was moving.  700 people were on the feet - once I removed my headphones, I understood why - the ground of Yorkshire was shaking to this charming old hymn:

WE ARE TOP OF THE LEAGUE! SAID WE ARE TOP OF THE LEAGUE!  WE ARE TOP OF THE LEAGUE! SAID WE ARE TOP OF THE LEAGUE! WE ARE TOP OF THE LEAGUE! SAID WE ARE TOP OF THE LEAGUE!

For the first time in eight years, it's really happened. 

Speak Your Brains

Your cast for tonight: Mr. Culshaw, Mr Ashworth, Mr. Sharples, Mr. Jones and myself.

We discovered a slight flaw in the admittedly handsome main stand at Valley Parade.  It has no end on it - meaning that the rain blows straight in.  Mr. Culshaw spent much of the game shielding the broadcasting gear and I spent most of the game shielding Mr. Culshaw.  As I said, not glamorous.

Dagnall was absolutely awesome tonight - but praise also goes to Jason Taylor who seems to have found his feet in the side and bossed the midfield for Dale tonight.  The oft maligned Joe Thompson was also worthy of praise - the Bantam's left back didn't know whether he was coming or going for much of the game.

Bournemouth managed a draw in the end - meaning Dale top the table by one point.  OK, there are 27 games to go - and a lot will happen betwen now and May - but until Saturday at the very least, Rochdale AFC are top of League Two. 

We agreed on celebratory kebabs when we got home - apparently when kebabs are eaten in celebration they are completely calorie free.  The god news just keeps on coming.

Bothered?

Johnstone’s Paint Tin: First Round

Rochdale AFC 1 - 2 Bradford City FC

Journey

A 7:15 kick-off. Sometimes I really feel that the football gods are laughing at me. Why 7:15? What is wrong with trust old 7:45? I didn’t check the TV listings – but I am fairly sure that tonight’s game wasn’t going out live via satellite across the globe and that Dale were pandering to the all important Japanese audience. I could be wrong though.

What a 7:15 start meant to me was some tyre smokin’ action through Blackley, Harpurhey, Middleton and Castleton. David Starsky would have been proud of me – he might even have rewarded me with a run out in his belt-tie cardy. A handsome garment if ever there was one. What was a little surprising however, was the number of men walking back and forth across Rochdale Road with large sheets of plate glass, and I simply lost count of the number of piles of chickens in wooden crates I had to drive through in Harpurhey – and don’t even get me started on the piles of cardboard boxes in Castleton.

Finishing off my Manchester to Rochdale sprint with a perfectly executed hand-brake assisted parking manoeuvre. I strode purposefully towards Spotland. From the noise I deduced that the game had already started, I was late. Those chickens gave their lives needlessly – all thanks to a 7:15 kick-off – I hope you are proud of yourselves Japanese football watching types.

Reception. Press pass. Made out in my name. In you face Mr. Ashworth – I won that! I told you it was just a waiting game.

At a breathless stumble I arrived at my commentary position - to find it deserted. The gear was all set up – but no Mr. Culshaw. A quick scan round: and there he was – he had bunked off and joined the Dale Player commentary team. In a break from hob-nobbing with the afore-mentioned Mr. Ashworth*, Mr Culshaw told me to get the head phones on, let the studio know I was there and give them an update if anything happened.

I did as I was told…

On balance I wish I hadn’t. For the next two hours I would be an irregular participant in Roche Valley Radio’s Irish music night hosted by the mercurial man of Eire, Mr. Paige. I am not a massive fan of the folkish stylings of the Emerald Isle – in fact, I would go as far to say that my version of hell involves being forced to listen to Irish music, whilst watching a meaningless cup tie, at a stupid kick off time…

Oh. How ironic…

*I hadn’t won at all had I? He’d nicked my commentary partner – this is becoming like a duel with the greatest criminal mind in the world – who also happens to be Dale’s press officer.

Weather

Slightly more ‘feathery’ in Hurperhey than is the norm – other than that – cloudy and bit chilly.

Food

I was late, so no pre-game noshings today. However, after an over generous slice of ‘the crack’ from Mr. Paige - interspersed with diddley, diddley, diddley: I felt I had earned a pie.

As I silently munched my treat, with my head phones back on – a group of gentlemen from the lovely city of Cork tried to convince me that Barrak Obama is in fact Irish, to a jaunty rhythm, whilst torturing a selection of innocent string instruments. B’gorra.

Away Support

61million. Ok, that may actually be the population of Great Britain. But after all the hoo-hah about the number of fans Bradford actually brought last season – I decided to err on the side of caution – and just say that everyone in Britain was there. That way no-one will be offended, put out or otherwise discomnockerated.

News

Thorpe returns to Spotland on loan. During half time I spotted a steward in the main stand who is the living image of Lee Thorpe. Things really must be tough at Darlo. He seemed to do a decent job though – playing as a hold-up steward, looking to bring his colleagues into the game.

Action

Your team for tonight:

GK: Arthur

Def: Flynn, Holness, Dawson, Kennedy(T)

Mid: Thompson, Kennedy(J), Flitcroft, Rundle

For: Dagnall, Buckley

Bench: Edwards, Wiseman, Brown, Spencer, Higginbotham

After the raptures of last weekend where the Shakers were sent back through Heywood with their tail’s firmly between their legs and the folk of Rochdale celebrated long into the night – we come to tonight. Cup football.

Not the FAmous Cup, not even the Rola-Cola Cup – tonight is The Paint Tin.

The rather sparsely populated stands suggested that there is not a lot of love for this little competition – there was only 1800 in Spotland tonight (don’t tell the Bradford fans). Perhaps due to the limited significance of this game Mr. Hill decided to have a tinker with the team which saw off Bury. Flitcroft replacing Jones in midfield, Rundle coming in on the left wing and Buckley going up top in place of O’Grady.

The first half was a fairly tepid affair. Rochdale played some nice, tidy stuff – Rundle causing difficulties for the Bantam’s Bateson and linking up nicely with Dagnall and Buckley, Flitcroft providing a solid presence in the middle of the park. For Bradford, Neilson on the right was a regular threat and Evans was a tireless target for every Bradford move.

However, in front of a listless crowd and in spite of some decent quality football the game failed to spark into life until just before the break when Dagnall rattled the Yorkshire cross bar. Dagnall’s effort was one of only two serious Dale efforts in the first 45 – Buckley had headed straight at Eastwood in the Bradford goal early in the half. Bradford’s few efforts were speculative at best.

During half time I rang Mr. Keane to get his thoughts on the game. He was unable to help – on account of being safely tucked up in his living room. Even Mr. Keane – the ultimate Dale stalwart - had passed on this game. The magic of cup football – not.

The second half started far more brightly. Dale built on the neat and tidy play of the first half with a real injection of desire. Fifteen minutes of Dale dominance finally achieved the break through when after a Rundle free kick Bradford had failed to clear their lines and the ball dropped to Craig Dawson in the area. With his head heavily bandaged after a coming together in the first half, Dawson controlled, Dawson turned, Dawson pulled the trigger. 1-0 Dale!

Minutes later Spencer (who had replaced Buckley on 60) had a glorious chance to turn the screw still further on the Bantams when one-on-one with Eastwood. Eastwood was however equal to the challenge.

Having had a serious fright, Bradford snapped into action. The Bantams rolled forward and Dale retreated from the onslaught. Evans and Neilson produced selection of decent efforts testing Arthur and then on 75 minutes Bradford were awarded a fortuitous freekick – twenty yards from goal. Young Bantams left back Michael Flynn stepped up and lashed the ball through the wall and past Arthur. 1-1.

Dale were visibly shaken. The neat play seen so far evaporated, Bradford were on the march. Just five minutes later slack Dale defending allowed Neilson to tee up a shot from twenty five yards – it collected a wicked deflection in transit, squirted up in the air and left Arthur completely stranded. 2-1 Bradford.

Dale seemed powerless to respond. Every attempt to drive upfield was stoutly rebuffed as Bradford set themselves to defend their lead.

With the house wives favourite, Daniel O’Donnell, crooning softly in my ears, Mr. Eltringham brought matters to a close.

Speak your Brains 

Your cast for tonight: me – because no one else could be bothered to turn up!

• 
  
  I predict big things for that Flitcroft boy – possibly a kebab
  
  
  
• 
  
  Craig Dawson = Craig Awesome
  
  
  
• 
  
  Do I not like cup football – or Irish music
  
  
  

My final thoughts on tonight: - Look at my face - Does it look bothered? - Does my face look bothered to you? - Face - Bothered? - Face - Bothered? - I am not bothered!

With a needless cup distraction avoided – it’s back to the important business of the League.

Thriller

Rochdale AFC 3 - 0 Bradford City FC

Journey:

Ill.

Of all the things I had thought of which might derail my plan to get to every game this season, being ill wasn't one of them.

A day of guzzling Lemsip's, whilst swaddled in a duvet with the fire on full belt didn't seem to have helped. To make matters worse I was supposed to be partnering Mr. Culshaw in the commentary box for tonights encounter with Bradford - the problem being that I had pretty much lost my voice. At 5pm and with no improvement in sight I made the fateful call to Mr. Culshaw. I was going to have to back out.

So this is where it ends then. A spritely 35 - and then fall on my own stumps. I just didn't see it ending like this...

I was mooching around the kitchen making yet more Lemsip and feeling very sorry for myself when Lady Luck appeared in the doorway.

'Can I come to the game tonight?'

Not 'are you going to the game tonight, can I come?' It is simply assumed that I am going.

What the hell was I thinking?! Not going to the game! I must have been delirious or something!

Having put on every sweater I own, extra socks, cardigan, hat, scarf, gloves, big coat and having downed my mug of Lemsip in one - I was back in the game.

With the eastern horde on the way over the Pennines parking would be at a premium in the lanes and layby's of Greave. So, with the big hand on the 12 and the little hand on the 7, Lady Luck and I set forth for Spotland.

Weather:

Now here is a funny thing. As I set off for Spotland I was sure that I could see the last vestiges of the day clinging onto the western horizon. Could winter really be almost over?

An almost cloudless black sky hung over Rochdale tonight, illuminated by a blindingly bright full moon.

Allegedly, the full moon can do funny things to people. What it does to the sea is not a matter of debate - tides are a fact - and people are mostly made of water so it seems plausible that the moon could be pulling our strings as well. I suppose the question for tonight is what effect would it have on League 2 footballers? Provided it didn't involve heavy make-up, a catchy pop tune and dancing (endless dancing) I was prepared to watch and learn.

Food:

Water and dust.

Pies are made from water and dust - right? Well sort of.

Considering the possible effects of the full moon on things with a substantial water content, I am pleased to report that my pie behaved itself. No crotch grabbing or screaming 'Shamon!' as far as I could detect.

Away Support:

Last season Bradford brought a lot of fans. This season they brought more. Many, many more.

The result at Gigg Lane had dropped Dale from 3rd to 5th - with Bradford jumping up into 4th spot following their 5-0 rout of Aldershot at the weekend. My guess is that 2500 of the Bradford faithful had made the trip over the Pennines for what they hoped to be a romp into the automatic promotion spots.

As for Dale fans (in spite of my bringing Lady Luck, Mr. Keane bringing Keane jnr. as his birthday treat, Mr. Mitchell making his now customary appearance and somewhere in the Pearl Street Stand Playboy Dan and Mr. 'Iceman' McCabe) there couldn't have been more than a couple of thousand.

Consequently we were treated to a seemingly never ending roar of 'WHAT'S IT LIKE TO SEE A CROWD!!!' from the Bradford fans. How loud were they? Well - the music on the Spotland tannoy system is usually ear splitting - tonight you couldn't even hear it. Does that help?

Action:

Late results: I have been somewhat remiss in my coverage of Littleborough's finest in recent weeks. So for those of you following the progess of the Mighty Yellows the results you missed were a 5-5 draw in a friendly with table topping Chadderton last Saturday and a 4-2 league victory the week before. In both cases the Yellows trailed for much of the game but rallied magnificently. They remain 2nd in their league.

Team news: Gary Jones injury woes continue, Chris Dagnall is suspended, Ciaran Toner's injury at Bury would also rule him out and Adam Rundle would be unavailable due to Mrs. Rundle making little Rundle's. This considered, changes were inevitable. McArdle would return at centre half replacing Ramsden. Keltie would start in central midfield - accompanied by - The Lesser Spotted Mark Jones. There really could be something in this full moon stuff.

Thompson and Buckley would take station on the wings with Thorpe and St. Adam up front. The strangest change was the introduction of one David Flitcroft onto the subs bench. Rochdale's assistant manager hasn't seen a competitive game in a good few years - although I suspect he has seen a few substantial dinners. Full moon - I'm not sure I need any more proof.

After the slightly indifferent performance at Gigg Lane it was far from clear which Rochdale would turn up tonight. I needn't have worried. As soon as Mr. Mathieson blew the whistle, Dale launched themselves at the Bantams. The first twenty minutes were almost embarrasingly one sided.

Jones and Keltie hectored and harried a surprisingly ponderous Bradford midfield while Buckley slashed at the Yorkshiremen's defences with seeming impunity. Corner followed corner. Chance followed chance. Only frenzied Bradford defending and a few slices of luck - such as McArdle's uncontested header flying straight into the Bantams keeper, Evans, hands - kept Dale from taking the lead.

However, the period of Dale dominance did not last. Having looked disjointed and awkward so far Bradford pulled themselves together. Dale old boy Steve Jones surging runs down the Bantams left causing Wiseman no small amount of concern. Peter Thorne having broken clear of his marker twice forced excellent saves from Fielding.

The resurgence from Bradford wasn't to last. Rochdale re-applied themselves and played out the half very much in control. In spite of what had been a very exciting 45 minutes of football 0-0 it remained.

So, Mark Jones. Well I never did. I expect this was some kind of cunning plan by Messers. Hill and Flitcroft. Jones proved to be something of a secret weapon. Not the tallest by any means - but can that lad run? He never stopped moving and was absolutely fearless in the challenge. With only just a hint of irony, I am bound to say - what a find!

Second half. Bradford started much better, once again forcing Fielding into a desperate save from a Greame Lee header. The Bantams could probably count themselves as being somewhat unlucky by this stage. Rochdale had produced more efforts on goal - but Bradford's had been the clearer cut. But for the gymnastics of Fielding Rochdale could have been 3-0 down without serious complaint.

However, it was somewhere around here that the full moon began to exert it's influence.

The Shaker Maker had been on the end of some fairly rough handling in the first half - what would follow in the second half was truly X-rated. Bradford degenerated into a pack of kill crazy zombies - with the sole aim of kicking Buckley out of the game, and possibly the ground.

In total their efforts against our Will would yeild three yellow cards and see the Bantams assistant manager banished to the stands for arguing that his players 'tactics' were somehow within the laws/spirit of the game.

Around 49 minutes The Shaker Maker shaped to run down the left touchline - to be swatted (that is the best way I can describe it) by Arnison. Mark Jones delivered the resulting free kick, which found McArdle loitering on the edge of the six yard box. A thumping header. Evans barely moved. 1-0 Dale!

Ten minutes later and Thompson's flick on from Jones corner was diverted to safety by Conlon. Unfortunately he chose to do this manually. Mr. Mathieson made what Mr. Mitchell described as 'a very good spot', and duly indicated - the spot. St. Adam stepped up to perform the honours. Evans left hand only succeeded in diverting the ball into the roof of the net. 2-0 Dale!

Around 75 minutes St. Adam drove into the Bradford box from the right touchline, beat the first man only to be kicked out of his boots by Clarke. Clarke protested that he had got the ball - Mr. Mathieson felt this had been an unforseen side effect of his plan and once again pointed to the spot. St. Adam took his mark. This time Evans hand played no part. 3-0 Dale!

By now the eastern horde were flooding to the exits of the Wilbutts Lane Stand.

As the clock wound down the home fans amused themselves by demanding that Mr. Fltcroft come on and play out the remaining minutes. 'WE WANT FLICKER!, WE WANT FLICKER!'.  He grinned broadly - but decided that discretion was probably the better part of valour.

Summary:

The full moon is probably as good an explanation as you will get for Bradfords performance tonight. Bradford are a good side. They made pretty short work of Rochdale at Valley Parade early in the season. They started badly, recovered well, were unlucky not to be in the lead and then descended into a brutal variety of anarchy - which was totally beneath a team of their quality. They were lucky to finish the game with all eleven men on the field.

As for Rochdale. It was the perfect antidote to the disappointment of the weekend. A fantastic team effort with Jones, Buckley and McArdle shining just as brightly as the moon.

As I marched back to the car I over heard that Bury had drawn. Rochdale were back up to 3rd and people around me were saying the 'P' word again. Suddenly my cold didn't seem half as bad.

Shamon.

Turner Watch:

Mr. Turner will be 'Doing something funny for money' on Friday.

It may or may not be something to do with Comic Relief.

10/03/09

Mysteries of the East

Bradford City FC 2 - 0 Rochdale AFC

Journey:

Mystery #1: As Mr. Keane had elected to desert us in favour of Ms. Bentley this weekend - consequently it fell to me to organise picking Mr. Turner up. The simple solution would have been for Mr. Turner to come to my house. Therefore, imagine my surprise when I found myself waiting for him in Rochdale's Town Hall car park. In spite of his many visits to my home - he seemed to have forgotten where I lived.

More annoying than this - he was late.

As I waited under the clock tower I realised I was caught up in the aftermath of a wedding in the registry office. It wasn't obvious to begin with - but so many orange women in such a small space did give the game away.

Therefore, when Mr. Turner's ashen features finally appeared it was quite a pleasant change. He had been out last night and was feeling somewhat indisposed.

Having made a brief stop for Mr. Turner to pick up fluids we finally got on our way. In a little over half an hour we were in Bradford. I looked at the SatNav which indicated just over a mile to go - how easy was that?

Mystery #2: 'At the roundabout, take the first left'. Sounds simple enough doesn't it? Well, there was no first left - in fact there was no roundabout. It had simply disappeared.

Herein lies the danger of completely relying on SatNav.

Round and round Bradford city centre we drove for a further fifteen minutes. Having passed the Bradford Hilton for the third time, Mr. Turner emerged briefly from beneath his hangover to suggest an alternate route. He was un-nervingly correct - he can't find my house which he has been to dozens of times - but he can find a football ground he has never been to. FatNav!

Weather:

A perfect late summer day.

Food:

In addition to Mr. Turner, I was accompanied on my journey into the Orient by Lady Luck, Young Mr. Eden-Maughan and his significant other Miss. Wolfenden. Taking family to games means one thing - you are paying. The trip through the turnstiles had already resulted in a near fatal nose bleed - but more of that later. The food counter almost initiated a terminal stroke...

Mystery #3: I provided Young Mr. Eden-Maughan with a crisp £10 note and instructions to get food for Lady Luck, himself and his lady. He returned some twenty minutes later - and handed me 40 pence change. £9.60 for three sausage rolls and three bottles of pop! Errr - well not quite. £9.60 for two sausage rolls and three bottles of pop - Lady Luck was not hungry!!! How these prices can be justified is quite beyond me.

Ground:

Mystery #4: After the huge turnout last season - I gather Rochdale have the distiction of taking the most away fans to Valley Parade last season - we were moved from the Bradford End into part of a larger adjoining stand. From my vantage point near the touch line I had a splendid view of a very strange stadium. Two fantastic, modern, two tier stands joined at the corner making a very impressive structure directly in front me.

The stand we were in was somewhat less grand but fairly servicable - despite the food prices and the fact that even allowing for the change of stand there wasn't enough room for all of the Dale faithful. ( I suspect we topped 1,000 travelling fans today - I doubt the Bantams will see this many again this season.)

The Bradford End itself looks like badly converted holiday apartments and adjoins the WWII era barracks type facillity which apparently contains the changing rooms.

'Come to Valley Parade and see half of one of the best stadium's in Britain!'

All this - plus they only lay on one turnstile - so people were still taking their seats well into the game - and - the ticket prices! £20 for an adult, £12 for a junior. Today's little outing set me back £81.60 including food. Absolutely outrageous.

Action:

Mystery #5: Rochdale started brightly, moving the ball well and creating a selection of decent chances against a fairly static and unimaginative looking Bantams line up. In spite of Bradford's terrific start to the season, Dale seemed to have more than the measure of them. It is therefore a complete mystery how Rochdale found themselves 2-0 down at half time. Bradford's only serious attack of the half resulted in Boulding scoring on twenty minutes from a Thorne cross. Fifteen minutes later some curious refereeing from Mr. Penn afforded Bradford a fortuitous free-kick which Thorne arrived on the end of to make it 2-0.

Very mysterious indeed.

As half-time unfolded we were treated to the 'Bradford City Gent' - the Bantams mascot - basically an old chap in a football strip and a bowler hat. Not a patch on the 'Mighty Mariner' - or Desmond the Dragon - or even the much maligned Spotty (who has not been seen since John Doolan left us - coincidence? you decide). A bloke with a microphone talked us through a rather complicated game which seemed to mainly rely on booting the ball into the crowd. It was only when it was all over that we were informed that the objective was to hit the bar.

As is now becoming a tradition, Playboy Dan fought his way through the milling half-time crowd to say hello.

The second half played out much as the first had. Dale pressed, Bradford parried and countered - but this time the scorer remained unemployed. 2-0 to Bradford it remained.

Summary:

Rochdale played some nice stuff today and can justly feel that the final score flattered Bradford a little.

However, they were significantly out competed in the midfield for much of the first half - Bradford's more direct and physical approach to the game paid real dividends.

In terms of pure numbers, Dale had more and better chances but just couldn't seem to put them away - Bradford had less but really made them count - aided in some measure by some slightly chaotic Dale defending.

All in all a thoroughly professional performance from Bradford. From the point they took the lead, the result never seemed seriously in doubt. All the more disappointing considering the experience had finacially beggared me...

Turner Watch:

In a week which saw some vehement demands for the end of Turner Watch - Mr. Turner justified his selection this week. Ok, he was late - and stank of ale - and couldn't remember where I live - but he did manage to get us through the warren that is Bradford city centre. Oh, and he did turn up - he did not, for example, bunk off to Preston with his Mrs.

23/08/08

11

Rochdale AFC 2 - 1 Bradford City FC

Journey:

Match traffic! On a Tuesday!

I joined the queue at the bottom of Roch Valley Way and crawled toward Spotland. As I got close to the ground I could see surging crowds heading towards the turnstiles. With just five minutes to spare I finally managed to find a parking space. I suspect I was probably closer to Bradford than Spotland.

At something approaching a canter I breached the Sandy turnstiles as the whistle blew.

Food:

No time for food on the way in. Events somewhat overtook me.

Through a jubilant throng of Dale fans I finally reached my regular perch.

Keane & Mitchell were back from international duties. Turner had returned from his mysterious self-enforced suspension. A surprise recall for Mrs. Mitchell - last seen at Spotland prior to the arrival of Mitchell jr. Mr. Mitchell's father in law rounded out the line-up.

When things calmed down I ventured forth to the Sandy Patisserie. Pie and a coke - Mr. Turner had a pie and a Fanta - and stiffed me for 50p. Welcome back Mr. Turner.

Weather:

Aside of the traffic on the trip to Spotland - there was another surprise. Daylight. As the game kicked off it was still light. Blue sky, festooned with heavy billows, touched with pink and gold. Most alarmingly - it was, well - warm.

Away Support:

How many came from Bradford? All of them I think.

Action:

So, finally the Bradford game.

I had been at Spotland the day of the original fixture. Customarily late, I was hustling up to the ground when I was stopped by an old woman: who told me the game was off. As is the way with these things - when I turned around to ask her why - she was gone.

This kind of thing happens in Rochdale far more than people realise.

After a spell of pretty rotten form Dale had finally got it together. Back to back wins against Rotherham and then Brentford. One point off the play-off's - games in hand. This is usually where it goes horrible.

First minute. 1-0 Dale.

I was still walking to my spot when the ball arrived at the feet of Perkins on the edge of the box. On his heels and with no options he took the obvious choice - shoot. Loach got nowhere near it.

The story of the half was that of Dale swashbuckling through a static and increasingly beleagured Bantams defence. Chance after chance came to Dale. Only poor finishing and bad luck stood between Dale and a more convincing lead.

I have recently reflected that Dale have been a little light-weight when it comes to the more physical aspects of League Two football. Not tonight. Perkins in particular was like a man posessed and only narrowly avoided a yellow card in the first period. Ramsden and Muirhead were not as fortunate in avoiding the attentions of Mr. Haines.

By no means a dirty game - but every aspect of the night was closely and firmly contested. Dale's cards were justified - but they were equally sinned against as sinners. Mr. Haines just saw things a little differently.

Half time.

A good portion of the first half had been given over to discussing Mr. Kilgour's impending stag-do. The discussion spilled over into half time. The theme is apparently Super Hero's vs Super Villain's. I thought I was onto something when I offered to be Davros - Mr. Keane even volunteered to push me around. Regrettably, this was discounted on the basis that there would probably be few evil, chair bound, megalomaniac friendly pubs in Edinburgh.

As we watched teenage girls entertain us through the medium of interpretive dance - no firm decisions were made. Other than that Mr. Turner will be Fruit Flavoured, Super Hero Based Guy.

Curtain up.

The Dale tide rolled forward. Bradford were making a better fist of things this time around but it still looked more likely that Dale would reinforce their lead.

Wrong!

On sixty minutes an ill considered challenge by Tom Kennedy saw Joe Colbeck sprawling in the area - a moment of consultation with the linesman resulted in Mr. Haines indicating the penalty spot. Peter Thorne made no mistake. 1-1.

Dale were left to rue oh so many missed chances.

A draw was really no good for either side and almost thirty minutes of end to end football ensued. Dagnall replaced Muirhead on 58 for Dale, Rhodes replaced Nix on 74 for Bradford, Le Fondre replaced a recovered and impressive Higginbotham on 79 for Dale.

1-1 - probably unfair to Dale on balance but a testement to the Bantams resilience under fire and Dales profligacy in front of goal.

And then...

87 minutes - a confused melee in the Bradford area - Thorpe's flick - Le Fondre's dragged shot. The roof came off the Sandy!

 2-1 Dale. St. Adam to the rescue.

Was it over? Oh no. Bradford went into overdrive.

The Sandy winced as the Dale net bulged - thankfully due to Lee's flailing hand as another frenzied Bantams attack was turned aside - oaths were uttered as with seconds to go Bradford crashed the ball against the Dale bar. Then the sweet, sweet sound of the whistle.

All over. 3 points. Philladelphia displaced for a play-off spot. Dale left the field to a standing ovation.

Summary:

The eastern horde swept west. 11 stood at the narrowest point. 11 fought. 11 suffered. 11 prevailed. 11...

Turner Watch:

Good to have Mr. Turner back. 50p seemed pricey though.

1/04/08