Sean's Stories

Hereford United 3-2 Torquay United
League Two
Saturday 5th May 2012 – 15:00

Despite Bath City finishing their league season last week, I promised all you lucky people another blog, and boy have you got one. At the weekend, the “giants” Hereford played host to the titans of Torquay. I had to make use of planes, trains and automobiles to get to Herefordshire (OK, four trains and two taxis – no planes), but I am proud to bring to you my first ever blog on a Football League game. Make sure you’re sat down, as the ‘Excite-o-meter’ is about to go into overdrive.

When you think of Hereford, you think of cider. Well, I do. Cider which is pretty decent, but nothing on the stuff from Somerset. When you think of Hereford United Football Club, many think of FA Cup upsets. Most people would think of the time in the 1970’s, when as a Southern League outfit, they beat topflight Newcastle United. Again, I think differently. Hereford United are the “giants” Bath City (famously) knocked out of the FA Cup in 1993 (it was live on Sky, don’t you know).

Since then, Hereford have gained promotion to the Football League, reaching the dizzy heights of League One in 2008. They beat my other team, Leeds United a couple of times along the way, but we won’t talk about that. Since then, for whatever reason, Hereford have not been doing so well and have battled against relegation all season.

Cue a last day of the season clash against Torquay United, who themselves could be promoted to League One with a win over Hereford, should moneybags Crawley Town lose to Accrington Stanley. Then again, Hereford could stay up if they win and Barnet lose to Burton Albion. The permutations were endless, and Jeff Stelling was no doubt having kittens on Soccer Saturday.

Random photo of a wall light

The day started with a taxi journey to Bath Spa train station. I arrived very early and predictably, the train was very late – and very full. Cue mayhem – people fighting to get onto the train, people fighting to get off and getting trapped in the train doors. Then there was the gladiatorial battle for a reserved seat. If anyone wants to see normally perfectly civilised human beings turn into animals, take a trip aboard a busy train.

After making the train trip to Newport, getting delayed and catching a later train, we eventually arrived in Hereford. There, along with about 20-or-so of Torquay United’s toughest hooligans, we were greeted by Hereford’s local constabulary. After wishing us luck (I say “us”, I’m not even a Torquay fan), we were asked to behave ourselves and not to relegate the home side.

Does "rank" mean something different in Hereford?

We then made our way to the ground. We got as far as Morrison’s supermarket – 30 seconds from the train station – when I realised we were lost. I began to wish I had listened to the friendly policeman who had offered directions. I decided to follow a group of Torquay fans, who appeared to know where they were going. Making conversation, I informed them that I was a Bath City supporter and reminisced about past encounters between our clubs – the 2007 FA Cup tie and the 2008 FA Trophy match. I reminded the Torquay fan his side won both games. He apologised.

Green army!

The ground was in fact easy to find. It was a simple case of follow the police officers who lined the streets. Edgar Street impressed me. A friendly club, which treated both home and away supporters like human beings – something which many clubs I have visited this season have failed to do. Both sets of fans were invited to use the clubs many bars and socialise pre-match. There was no trouble whatsoever.

Extremely hungry after our travels, we looked for food. Besides an impressive selection of crisps, there was nothing on offer in any of the three bars. There was however a rather enticing-looking burger van. Burgers were ordered, sadly without chips as the deep fat fryer had broken. A sad day.

No chips. I predict a riot.

Burgers eaten and cider drank (sadly, Magners), we walked though the turnstiles and found our seats. We could have gone in the terraces, but chose to end the season as prawn sandwich eaters.

As the stands and terraces began to fill, supporters were reminded that it was a criminal offence to encroach onto the pitch. A pointless announcement. If Hereford were to save themselves from relegation or Torquay win promotion, that pitch would be full of football fans quicker you could say “Proud members of the Blue Square Bet Premier”.

Best not bring a bottle

The atmosphere and tension began to build. A set of fans behind the goal in a home terrace let off a couple of flares. I was impressed. I don’t think the stewards were overjoyed at the firework display though. As is the technological age we live in, some fan videoed the blatant act of hooliganism and uploaded it to YouTube.

Warm up shot

The players walked out onto the pitch to the club’s very own song Hereford United – We Love You. Cue thousands fans cheering and applauding – probably in appreciation of the excellent music which pisses all over You’ll Never Walk Alone.

Hereford began the game nervously. The thought of a trip to Braintree Town on a cold Tuesday night a real possibility should they lose the game. The fans were quiet. You could tell they were nervous. They did erupt to abuse the linesman who, to be fair to the home fans, was absolutely rubbish.

A load of old bull

Despite looking edgy and generally under pressure from Torquay, Hereford took the lead early into the game. The home fans went absolutely crazy. More flares were lit, a few supporters fell onto the pitch only to be greeted by the club’s mascot, who was equally elated.

The jubilant home supporters behind the goal started singing “We’ll do what we want, we’ll do what we want” Presumably in response to the spoil-sport stewards trying to ruin their flare-lighting and pitch invading fun. Booo!

Traditional floodlights. I like.

The manic scenes still turned very sombre when word got around that Barnet were beating Burton Albion. This meant, as things stood, Hereford would be relegated. I am sure the news of the goal had caused Jeff Stelling to jump around the Soccer Saturday studio like a man with a family of scorpions in his boxer shorts.

Forza Hereford Ultras!

Torquay, who still appeared to be the better side, pushed for an equaliser which would get their promotion charge back on track. They played some fancy football, but cheated a fair bit too; Eunan O’Kane throwing himself to a ground and rolling around the floor a bit like this. This enraged the already angry home supporters, although not as much as when Torquay’s Rene Howe became obstructed by a Hereford defender and did his very best impression of a man getting hit in the face by a baseball bat.

A huge cheer erupted moments later, but I did not know why. My heart sank, thinking I had somehow missed a wonderful long-range goal, or even more disappointing, a dog invading the pitch. It was neither of those things. The scoreboard had an update from the Barnet game and brought good news – Burton Albion had equalised against Barnet. Better still, Jeff Stelling had been admitted to hospital following over excitement and scorpion stings on his genitals.

Match shot

Hereford’s afternoon got even better when they were awarded a penalty, which was well converted. A third goal was scored shortly after, the best of the game, to put Hereford 3-0 up and dreaming of survival and trips to Fleetwood Town next season.

The second half kicked off and Torquay made two changes. One of which was to bring on Ryan Jarvis, who I thought was excellent and changed the game – so much so, he scored in under 20 seconds. 3-1 then became 3-2. The comeback was on, although the Torquay United coach drivers had clearly seen enough – a tannoy announcement informed all away fans that the drivers had returned to their vehicles.

The second goal was greeted by the Torquay supporters ‘doing the poznan’. Some kind of celebration presumably created by Manchester City which involves hugging each other, turning your back to goal and jumping up and down a lot. The home fans responded with “What the fucking hell is that?” before throwing another flare.

Sadly, the 14-12 ‘goalfest’ scoreline I was hoping for did not happen. There would be no more goals and the score would finish 3-2 to Hereford. Excellent. Boom boom, we’re staying up etc… However it wasn’t great. Barnet had taken the lead at Burton Albion, saving themselves and relegating Hereford. Home fans sung how they would be Hereford until they died (or have to go to Ebbsfleet United), while the disappointed away supporters left hoping the play offs would bring them success – and that their coach drivers hadn’t gone back to Devon.

So a sad day really. Sad for Hereford fans that they went down. Sad for all football fans that Torquay didn’t go up, as it meant Crawley Town got promoted instead.

"We're relegated. Lets blame the mascot"

Good luck to Hereford next season. It is a shame I won’t be making the trip with Bath City. Good luck to Torquay in the play offs too, although I will also be keeping an eye on their opponents Cheltenham Town, who have one of my favourite ex-Bath City players ever – Sido Jombati.

And as far as my blog goes, that is about it. Until next season anyway. See you for the pre-friendlies in July, which will feature Western League grounds, trialists nobody has heard of, false hope and the annual visit of a Bristol Rovers XI to Twerton Park – always an exciting affair.

Lets pretend we're staying up

* until next season, or maybe even next weekend if I go to Hereford/Torquay.

Alfreton Town 2-1 Bath City
Conference National
Saturday 28th April 2012 – 13:00

So that’s that over with. After 92 games of Conference National football; 8,280 minutes against (usually) decent opposition; 107 goals scored, 157 conceded; Bath City’s two year stay in the top tier of non-league football is over; ending pretty much as we started it – a disappointing 2-1 away defeat to a team with a ground more suited to the division below. Back in August 2010 it was Hayes and Yeading United who beat us. Last weekend, the victors were Alfreton Town.

Everyone is more than aware of the contrast between our first season in the Blue Square Bet Premier and our second. During the first season miracles were performed by players and management alike. This season, Bath City found their level – second from bottom in a very competitive league, involving clubs with fan bases larger than many League One teams, with owners richer than some in the Premier League. On hindsight, barring a second miracle, relegation was inevitable, although still very much disappointing.

Despite being some 160-miles from Bath, compared to a lot of our away games, Alfreton is one of the more “local” trips. However, we had to leave Twerton Park at the very unwelcome time of 7.30am for a 1pm kick off. Why? Thanks to the satellite TV station, Premier Sports, wishing to broadcast another game in the same division and those loveable guys at the Football Conference insisting every club kicks off at the same time on the final day. So Premier Sports, who have given Bath City Football Club a grand total of £0.00 this season, moved our game to 1pm. Bastards.

Man, those turnstiles have style!

The final trip of the season on the supporters coach, also known as First Pink Bus, was an eventful one. By that I mean not a lot happened. The 50/50 draw was held. I didn’t win. I haven’t won it all year. Sums up our season. Excitement broke out when a puddle of liquid was spotted on the coach floor. Either one of the many elderly travellers had lost control of their bladder, or a Thermos flask had exploded. I was told it was the latter. As my shoes were within the puddle of fluid, I really hope it was the latter.

The coach dropped us in Alfreton town centre, where we were greeted by three chickens walking down the street and across the road. That’s right, chickens walking across the road. There’s a joke there somewhere, but I’m not funny enough to work it out.

The town is a 15 minute walk from the football ground and I was feeling a little lazy, but the attraction of a Weatherspoons was too much to take – a pub renowned for selling Thatcher’s Gold cider, instead of Magners and Strongbox. Sadly, there was no Thatcher’s. Stowford Press was however sufficient and was enjoyed with a cheese and tomato toastie, with chips. I know how to dine.

The ground, like Twerton Park, is traditional. There is no segregation, you can switch ends at half time, and if you’re tight-fisted, you can even watch the match for free on an embankment outside the ground. I paid the more than reasonable £13 at the turnstile.

The cheapskate stand

Just like the good old days of Southern League (and what we will be doing next season), we stood behind the goal which we were attacking. Presumably unaware of this tradition, we were surrounded by home supporters, one of whom asked their partner “Are we sure we’re in the Alfreton side?” as a travelling army of 20(ish) vocal fans sung “Come on City!”

All respect for Alfreton’s non-league traditions was soon lost after they scored. The awful sound, which has become all too familiar in this league, was boomed across the terraces – the sound of The Fratellis – Chelsea Dagger, as was played six pissing times at Grimsby where we lost 6-0.

I’m not really sure how the goal occurred. If you’re expecting a match report on this blog, you should know better by now. I know 1-0 soon became 2-0 after Gethin Jones generously gifted an Alfreton forward the ball for their second goal.

Alfreton's furry mascot and a man dressed up as a bear

Bath City were awarded a penalty shortly afterwards. Scott Murray, making his final appearance for the club and indeed in football, wrestled the ball from regular spot-kick taker (and my player of the year), Marc Canham. Something I was not too happy about. Canham has a 100% success rate from the penalty spot this season and while Muray has had an exciting career, the vast majority of it has been at Bristol City. Why should Bath City risk a result because he wants to go out on a high? Luckily, Murray scored. The keeper did dive the right way, but there was too much power in the shot. Had it been saved, I would have been angry. Very angry.

Bath City fans, delighted that they had actually seen a goal – somewhat of a rarity this season – broke out in song “We’re going to win 3-2”, before the ever-pessimistic, yet legendary supporter, Mike York, told his brother, Brain,”I bet we don’t” A few kicks were thrown – between the players, not Mike and Brian – and the classic anti-P.C. chant of “You dirty northern bastards” was sung by the travelling faithful. Sung, while surrounded by hundreds of home fans. A home supporter did ask them to refrain from swearing as there were children present – a fair, but pointless request, as there was more chance of Bath City winning promotion to League Two next season than the fans laying off the naughty words.

Hardcore support

At the end of the first half, we switched ends, walking the length of the ground to stand behind the opposite goal. A warning message was read out on the tannoy to all those in the stadium “Please do not encroach onto the pitch” the club clearly shitting themselves at the prospect of Alfreton fans celebrating surviving relation and Bath City supporters celebrating going down, by all running onto the pitch and causing mayhem. No sooner had the request been made, a large group of City fans began singing “On the pitch, on the pitch, on the pitch!”. There was no pitch invasion that day, but the threat of one certainly scared the stewards.

City were excellent in the second half and did everything but score. The best chance came late in the second half when Alex Russell only had to tap the ball into the net, but failed miserably. Russell has scored some fantastic and memorable goals for us, but it is clear that he is one of these players who only scores wonder-strikes.

As the remaining minutes were slugged out and Bath City’s time in the Conference drew to a close, Mike York eagerly informed all supporters than Alfreton Town would be turning fulltime next season. Something which is yet to be confirmed. He added that they will also win the league. Something which will never happen. Good old Mike, we’ll miss him in the summer months.

Final ever match shot from the Blue Square Bet Pre... whatever that stupid league is called

After City totally dominated the entire second half, Alfreton nearly scored a third goal. They didn’t score. We only lost 2-1, however it would have been very fitting of our season if, deep into injury time, we had let in a third. In fact the City players probably should have let one in, just for a laugh.

The referee blew for full time on the game, the season and our time in the horribly named Blue Square Bet Premier. Next season it’s the equally annoyingly titled Blue Square Bet South. Hopefully with a few more wins to enjoy. It’s been a fun couple of seasons in the big boys league. I’ll probably write a deep and meaningful season review in the upcoming weeks. I’m also hoping to catch a couple more non-City games this season, so Sean’s Stories shouldn’t be put back onto the bookshelf (or into the bin) quite yet.

Bath City 4-2 Gateshead
Conference National
Saturday 21st April 2012 – 15:00

Saturday saw the final home game of what has been a disappointing season at Twerton Park. The visitors were Gateshead, who had made the very long trip to Somerset from the north east – even longer than my previous week’s journey to Darlington.

Pre-match, I visited the old club shop. The old club shop is a blue shipping container, which up until a couple of years ago supplied supporters with metal badges, mugs and best of all, fridge magnets. Since getting promoted to the ‘big boys league’, Bath City have upgraded their shopping experience to a dog food marquee. The shipping container remains in its original location and is used by the Supporters Club as a base on match days. The purpose of my visit was to hand in my voting form for the player, supporter and young supporter of the season. This was all done with the highest security, to prevent any vote-rigging or foul play. While I won’t post on here which supporters I voted for (they may read my blog!), my player of the season was an easy decision – Marc Canham. A great player, who can even be forgiven for playing for Team Bath all those years ago.

City’s opponents, Gateshead, were having an excellent season and sat just outside the play offs. A remarkable feat for a club who, and with the up-most respect, would not be considered one of the league giants like Luton or rolling in money á la Fleetwood. They did however need a win to keep their play off dreams alive. Surely a trip to the side bottom of the league would be a guaranteed 3 points? In fact, they should just give the first team the weekend off in preparation for their upcoming midweek fixture. Send the youth team to Bath? Football isn’t like that, as we all know.

Bath City’s first season in the Conference South, back in 2007, was a huge success. The majority of the campaign was spent in the top five and talk of back-to-back promotions was rife. That fairy tale ended in April 2008, during the final home game of the season, when Sutton United, who were cemented to the foot of the table and already relegated, beat City 3-2 in a result that shocked world football (probably). The defeat cost us a play off spot and coincidentally almost four years to the day, Bath City, bottom of the league and already down, ruined Gateshead’s party. I guess that’s why we love (and at times hate) football.

After casting my vote, I walked round to the terrace behind the dugouts to watch the magic unfold. Bladud the Pig got into an altercation with Gateshead’s keeper during the warm up. Very strange. Clear red card for the pig. A dangerous two-trotted challenge.

Gateshead started the game well and gave little indication as to what would unfold across the 90 minutes. They even forced City into clearing a ball off the line. Then Bath turned on the style in a performance no doubt the best of the season. Adam Connolly, the goal hero against Dagenham and villain who messed up my bet against Fleetwood, scored what a Twerton Park moaner would call a “pretty good goal”. In comparison, I would call it a “fucking fantastic strike”.

It would appear that God is a Geordie. As following City taking the lead, what was a warm sunny afternoon, turned wet with rain. God was clearly crying as Gateshead’s play off dream started to die.

As God’s tears fell to the Twerton Park turf, Bath City continued their attack. Minutes later winning a penalty, awarded by referee Stephen Bratt who was still overcome with guilt following his last trip to Bath (I hope he got my letter). The spot kick was converted by the player of the season, Marc Canham and City were 2-0 up. Just so you’re aware, folks; the clock at this point reads just 8 minutes!

The singing started, with The Legion entertaining the ground with a rendition of “We’re all going on a trip to Boreham Wood” Excellent. You can stick your Luton and your Wrexham up your arse. I’m looking forward to away days at Staines, Tonbridge Angels and Weston Super Mare… OK, maybe not that last one!

Match shot

Either somebody had put something in the players’ pre-match cup of tea, or I have been looking at the league table upside down all season, as Bath City were playing fantastic football and in just the 13th minute, yes 13, it was 3-0. Was I dreaming? Had I in fact had the hallucinogenic cup of tea? I checked my iPhone for confirmation. We were winning 3-0! At this point there were just three sets of people upset in the ground. Gateshead players, Gateshead supporters and the negative Bath City fans. They were upset because there was absolutely nothing to moan about! You could argue the referee, Stephen Bratt was saddened by our winning margin, given his previous treatment of us, but even he seemed happy.

By the way, for anyone reading my blog who also happened to visit Twerton for the first time on Saturday, I must tell you something. Despite our league position, we play like that EVERY week. I promise. So, if you’re a billionaire who wants to find a sleeping giant of a football club that plays such attractive football they make Barcelona look like Stoke, you know where to chuck your spare coppers.

It was only at half time I realised than Gateshead’s star striker, Jon Shaw was playing. The way some fans, newspapers and websites raved about him, you would have thought they had bloody Pele playing for them. I guess the stats don’t lie. 28 league goals. But Bath City managed to make him look ordinary. Is there still time to win the league, as I think we may give Fleetwood a run for their money? No? Bollocks.

The ever-impressive City continued their dominance and Sean Canham – no relation to Marc Canham (player of the season) – scored a header to make it 4-0.

Gateshead did manage to get a couple of goals back, just to give me a few nerves. After all, what’s a football match if you’re not given a minor heart scare during the course of the 90 minutes. If nothing else, it gave the moaning old men something to whinge about “Roll-o again” they complained. I hate it when people call him that. It’s “Jim Rollo”, not “Roll-o” He isn’t the name of a chocolate sweet. The only person who is allowed to mispronounce his name, and does so only a frequent basis, is the manager Adie Britton.

We were happy. Very happy. The Legion sang how we would stay up and Adie even raised a rare smile from the dugout. A nice sight as he always looks so stressed. It is clear how much the football club means to him. He even managed to share a joke with the referee, reminding him of his performance in the Alfreton game. At least I think he was joking.

Gateshead tried for the third goal, which lead to repeated groans of “Come on, City. Keep ‘em out!” from a nearby fan I have now named Mr. Grumble, however City did a professional job and kept the scoreline at 4-2. An excellent performance and 3 rare points.

Scott Murray won man of the match. He did well, but given the fact it was his last home game of his long career, it was inevitable he would win the honour this week. In fact, had he scored an own goal, broken Marc Canham’s leg, mispronounced “Roll-o” and got sent off, he would still have got the champagne at full time.

The club house at full time was packed. All it takes is a win and the place fills up. Fans, hearing rumours that fellow strugglers Kettering had dropped points, gathered around the projector, waiting for Jeff Stelling to bring good news about our league position. A cheer erupted when our thoughts were confirmed. After 8 months in 24th place, Bath City had moved up to the dizzy heights of 23rd! Cue scenes of unprecedented joy and songs of “We’re not bottom anymore!” I love non-league.

Take a good look at the sign. You won't see it again. *sniff sniff*

Darlington 2-2 Bath City
Conference National
Saturday 14th April 2012 – 15:00

Since I last blogged, Bath City have played two games. The first on Easter Monday against Forest Green Rovers. This was our penultimate home match of the season. Bath City have never beaten Forest Green… OK, apart from that famous extra time 2-1 win in the First Round Replay of the Welsh Cup, during the 1988-89 season. Given our poor record against our Nailsworth neighbours, the fact we’re rock bottom of the Conference and Forest Green were flying high on their hippy owner’s bong (and admirable league position), I wasn’t holding out much hope. I was wise not to get too optimistic. It was a poor performance from both sides, in the pouring rain and City lost 2-0. A dishonourable mention for Rovers’ Reece Styche, who got booked for diving and was quick to take the “Inbred of the Month” award (won last month by Richard Brodie). The referee should also have given Jamie Cook a penalty too. Probably.

Nothing to do with Bath City or Forest Green, but as skips go, this is the best in the league

On the plus side, Bath City held the ‘name the stadium draw’. While I am a traditionalist and will always refer to Bath City’s home as Twerton Park, I welcomed the promotion which encouraged people to spend £50 on the chance to name the ground. If nothing else, it brought in much-needed revenue to the club. Of course, an embarrassing name could have been drawn out the hat, so I was pleased when The Mayor of Bath pulled out The Mayday Trust – a charity which helps people who are facing difficulties in their lives. Therefore, during next season, Twerton Park will officially be known as the Mayday Trust Park. Cue various wannabe comedians posting on the internet “Mayday, mayday, we’re going down”. Sigh. It wasn’t funny the first time. Or the second. Or the third, fourth, fifth or even sixth time the joke was made.

Enough about that and onto what you all came to read about. My sixteen and a half hour trip on a minibus to County Durham to watch a side bottom of the league and already relegated play a team third from bottom of the league and about to get relegated. El Classico this is not.

Despite being already doomed to play in the Conference South next season, I managed to convince myself that the ungodly early start, expensive trip and long day would be worth doing. Why? I attend most Bath City away games. Plus, I asked myself the question “Would I have gone if Bath City were top of the league?” From a personal point of view, the answer should be the same, regardless of league position.

Fourteen fans plus two drivers boarded the minibus to Darlington. Meeting at Twerton Park at 6.45am. Shortly before 9am, we arrived at the Tamworth service station, where coffee was bought (an essential purchase). We met some Forest Green fans on their way to Gateshead. There was little talk of the events from five days previous. City fans probably embarrassed about losing again, while Rovers supporters ashamed by Styche’s cheating. After a lot more driving, we arrived at Wetherby Services. This place is a haven for football fans. Last season, again on the way to Darlington, we met a crowd of highly intoxicated Sunderland supporters. One of whom fell over in the toilets, before shouting out to everybody that he had pissed himself. This time, there would be no drunken antics. We were however joined by Chesterfield and Wolves fans. A fight almost broke out following an argument about who has had the shittest season, although luckily that was stopped and we all had a relegation party instead. The relegation party was a success and much fun was had by all. Party games were played, including Pin the Tail on the Donkey Defender and Blind Striker’s Buff.

We arrived at The Darlington Arena at midday. I have been twice before, but I never fail to be amazed at just how big the place is. The stadium was opened in 2003, holding a capacity of 25,000. However, local planning laws restrict this to just 10,000, although not even that figure is ever close to being met. According to a Darlington supporter I met last year, one of the reasons such a grossly oversized stadium was constructed, was so that Darlington could one day host Champions League football. Given the fact Darlington were in League Two at the time, you may think that decision sounds a little mad. That’s because it was.

The Mayday Trust Park sounds better

You will have no doubt read or heard about the awful mess Darlington are in, so I won’t bore you with it all on here. If you want to find out exactly what has gone on, their sad plight is well publicised on the unofficial website and forum, Darlo Uncovered.

First thing Monday morning, I'm going to suggest to my Bath-based office we have our Crimbo party in Darlington!

Just looking around the ground, it was clear why they are financially screwed, which is a very sad state of affairs – not only for their supporters, but for fans of non-league and football itself.

Despite the club's problems, the fans pride themselves in having clean hands

We collected and paid for our tickets from an away ticket office. The previous two visits we went to the club shop. Why 15 or so away fans need to pay in a separate location to home supporters is a mystery to me, but assuming the man in the office was not a volunteer, it just highlights some of the off the field financial mismanagement involved at Darlington.

No smoke canisters! Dammit. May as well go home now

Due to our early arrival, we had lots of time before kick-off and had two options. Stay at the ground and try to locate the clubhouse somewhere within the vast arena, or walk to a nearby pub. The fans’ minds were quickly made up when a monsoon of rain and hail fell from the sky. Club house it is. A group of older Bath City fans were already drinking. It always amazes me just how much elderly gentleman can drink. They can easily put away five pints before a match. I would be on the floor if I had that much. After drinking a £3.60 bottle of Bulmers and visiting the club shop, picking up a pin-badge commemorating Darlington’s FA Trophy Final against Mansfield, I entered the north east’s answer to The Bernabeu.

1001 Ways To Boost Your Attendance - No.352 Take down sign

As we awaited 3pm, the hip hop classic Can I Kick It by A Tribe Called Quest was played across the ground. Given both Bath City and Darlington’s poor seasons, I thought this track was rather fitting, as the song’s title had probably been thought many a time throughout the season by demoralised players.

We should have stayed 'til Sunday

The game was poor. You could tell both sides had experienced long and unsuccessful seasons. Mistakes were made and the atmosphere was subdued. If it weren’t for the freezing cold, it could have been mistaken for a pre-season friendly.

The ground was filled with photographers, however most appeared to have their lenses focused on the home crowd. It was no secret that if Darlington failed to beat Bath City that afternoon, they would be mathematically relegated. Given the fact they had not won for seventeen games, the chances of seeing grown men crying (hilariously) at the prospect of going down was high. Every football photographer wants to get one of them on camera.

Never mind the carvery, I'd come back just to see those pennants again - impressive collection

Few chances were created by either side, but Jamie Cook did manage to get the ball in the back of the net. We saw the linesman’s flag raised ages before Cook’s strike, so did not even attempt to celebrate the clearly offside goal. That did not stop a group of 30-or-so home fans mocking us for NOT cheering a disallowed goal. Strange.

Hilarious use of drawing pins to deface a photo

At the other end of the pitch, Bath City defender Andy Gallinagh almost scored what would be the most impressive own goal ever – attempting to lob his own goalkeeper. Thankfully Glyn Garner dealt with it, but had he not, at least Bath City would have found their way onto Danny Baker’s Own Goals and Gaffs 2012.

Living the dream. Next season it'll be a cloakroom ticket from Tonbridge Angels... if I'm lucky

As if trying to gift Darlo a lead with an attempted own goal wasn’t enough, the generous City defence totally capitulated moments later, allowing a Darlington forward to find himself in a one on one position. Luckily their strikers are worse than our defenders and the ball was well saved by Garner from just 6 yards out.

Jeez, all I wanted to do was sell a few James Bond video tapes

However, Darlington did make it 1-0 before half time. A player, unmarked, managing to give the home side the lead. I was annoyed. Very annoyed. Not by the fact we had made yet another mistake in defence. Not because Darlington had scored. No, because Darlo play goal music. Worse still, Tom Hark. Why clubs do it, I have no idea. It is so embarrassing.

OH. MY. GOD! Darlington lampshades at only £1. MUST. STAY. CALM....

As half time approached, City tried to equalise, although only managed to shoot wide of goal. The fans who jeered us earlier on responded to the miss with a song of “That’s why you’re bottom!” Thanks for that.

Had the players lost the match, they would have traveled back on the minibus

Two substitutions were made at half time for City – Scott Murray and Sean Canham entering the field to give the away side a more attacking line up. It was needed. Darlington were clearly vulnerable in defence, so it was worth exploiting in an attempt to salvage some kind of a result.

Oil paintings in the toilet cubicles. Fantastic.

A pair of policemen entered the segregated away stand, which consisted of the fourteen fans who made their way up on the minibus and six other supporters who I have never seen before, who had decided to sit with us. Strangely, I think they were locals. There was also a dozen stewards to keep the drunken Bath City pensioners under control. I did wonder what the police were doing. Either they had been mistakenly informed that we are the Millwall of the Conference and were about to start a riot, or they were heading for the press box in an attempt to keep warm.

Believe it or not, I did actually attend a football match yesterday. Here's proof.

Darlington scored again. 2-0. Game over. More goal music. Darlo’s first home win in 18 games. The sad thing is I could see this coming and even said pre-match that I suspect they’ll win…

“Sean! Wash your mouth out with soap and water!”

“OK, sorry, Sean! I’ll keep the faith…”

My faith was repaid when, with a few minutes to go, Alex Russell lobbed the Darlington goalkeeper. A great goal. 2-1. Game on. At this point, Darlington collapsed like a pack of cards. Scott Murray broke through their frail defence and with the sweetest of strikes equalised. That really was game over, both for the match and Darlington.

Cue mayhem in the away end as along with thirteen other supporters, I celebrated like we had won the World Cup. Remembering the fans who had mocked us earlier in the game, we responded with a rendition of “Going down, going down, going down” It felt great and for a moment, I almost forgot that we had been relegated ourselves.

I later learnt following his equalising goal, which mathematically relegated Darlington, Scott Murray ran to the home fans gesturing them to ‘shhhh’. Some supporters had abused him pre-kick off and Murray had promised a reaction if he scored. This reaction clearly upset the home fans. I do feel sorry for the Darlo supporters who did not wind-up Murray or mock us Bath City fans. It is awful to be relegated (believe me, I know) and the last thing you need is to have the fact you are down rammed down your throat. However, those who were involved in any mockery of Bath City and Murray can have little complaint. After all, if you are not prepared to take it, don’t dish it out.

The referee blew for full time. A few boos echoed across the mostly empty and amply named Northern Echo arena, while most home fans just left in silence. Bath City supporters, already relegated, yet elated after the late comeback, celebrated with their players and management.

Certain players from both sides at risk of being arrested by The Football Police this season

We wouldn’t get back to Bath until gone 10pm, but the long journey home would be much sweeter following the fantastic fight back. I am glad I made the trip – for many reasons. One being I do not know the next time I will spend almost seventeen hours on a single away day again – it’ll be the likes of Basingstoke, Eastleigh and Boreham Wood next season. Sob.

A wheelbarrow. Always an exciting sight. Especially if you're from Somerset.

On a final note, I really hope Darlington manage to sort their problems out. While Bath City supporters are upset at going back down to the Conference South next season, at least we know we’ll have a club to follow. Darlo fans may not even have that. It made me sad to see a previously well-established Football League side in such a dire state. Good luck to their supporters, whatever happens in the future. Our five recent encounters have been fun, even if you did give us two hidings last year.

Brislington Reserves 1-1 Purnell Sports
Somerset County League First Division
Saturday 7th April 2012 – 15:00

With Bath City having played on the Friday night, I was left with a free Saturday. Like any obsessive non-league fan, I used my afternoon to do a spot of ground-hopping. For those not in the know, ground-hopping is a bit like trainspotting, only geekier. A ground-hopper will visit the football ground of a club he or she has not visited before and add the fact they have done so to a scrapbook, wall chart or in my case, a spreadsheet. There are even Facebook applications and websites dedicated to ground-hopping, all used by saddos like me.

My ground of choice for Saturday would be Ironmould Lane. Home of Brislington FC of the Western League. I only live a short way from Brislington, but shamefully have never visited their ground before. Bath City did play them a few years ago in the Somerset Premier Cup. City lost the game 5-0 and were fined £250 as punishment for fielding a side made up almost entirely of youth players. Like the majority of the first team, I did not attend that match.

The game will be refereed by Lewis Hogg, with Matt Coupe and Nathan Rudge as linesmen

I would make use of local public transport for my trip to Brislington, boarding the infamous X39 bus. I sat near to the back, just in front of a woman who looked like she had passed out and another who was listening to her iPod, except without headphones so the entire bus was subjected to her awful choice of music.

I got off the bus just in time. Had I been on the bus any longer, a female traveller would had an iPod firmly thrust into her head. After escaping, I crossed the busy main road, remembering to look left and right, just the hedgehogs on the TV advert told me. I then made the walk up a long side road to the concealed football ground. I thank Google Maps for allowing me to plan my route before departing.

Did I mention that I wasn’t actually watching Brislington FC play? Well, not the first team, anyway. It was Brislington Reserves against Purnell Sports. Upon arrival at the ground, I looked for the turnstiles. I couldn’t find them, so instead wandered through an entrance intended for the players and match officials. Ether the reserve fixture was free entry, or I can pass for a Somerset County League First Division player.

I headed for the club house for a pre-match drink of Thatchers Gold (a perk of visiting a West Country-based club) while listening to the commotion amongst the home fans and staff. The excitement over an incident involving a swimmer holding up the Boat Race on the TV was soon forgotten when a reserve team manager came rushing into the bar asking if anybody had a spare black sock as a player had lost his. Mayhem.

This is a gate

After Thatchers had been drank and a suitably black sock found, I made my way outside to prepae for the highly anticipated fixture. There was about five minutes before kick off. A couple of players got out of their cars and wandered over to their manager to check if they would be playing. After being complemented on their new football boots and informed they had three minutes to get changed, they ran off to get ready.

The closest Brislington will come to signing Thierry Henry... or even Leigh Henry

The place began to fill up. After all, this was a hotly contested derby. Brislington were still counting the gate receipts when I left, so was unaware of the official attendance, but as the game kicked off, I counted as many as 9 supporters in the ground.

A coach, late out the changing room, ran to the dug outs, clutching a bottle of vinegar – either to go with his chips or just in case a player gets stung by a wasp. An overweight Brislington player took up the job as linesman, while exchanging banter with his team mates and supporters.

A rather worrying stain on a clubhouse chair

The game started as you would expect a game involving a Western League reserve side to start. With the goalkeeper miskicking the ball so it stopped after 10 yards. The keeper had a chance to redeem himself moments later with a second goal kick. This time his kick went a bit further. All the way out of the ground and into a nearby hedgerow. A player leapt from the dugout, ran across the terrace and began taking apart the fence before crawling into the bushes and nettles to retrieve the lost ball.

As I waited for the makeshift ball boy to do his duties, I noticed Brislington’s opponents, Purnell Sports, were sponsored by Berkleys coaches – the firm who provide away travel for Bath City. Fascinating observation of the day #1.

Brislington is a nice ground. Most of it is undercover, which is great as it was a bit wet that day. I avoided the main stand and terraces, instead opting to sit on a bench which looked to have been stolen from a school cloakroom. There were coat hooks along the top of the seats, making it ideal for anyone wishing to hang their suit or dinner jacket up during the match.

What appeared to be a WAG joined me in the stand, sitting on the other bench. From the sounds of it, she spent most of her time sending text messages. In fact every fan in the ground under the age of 70 was on their phones, including some of the players.

The Cloak Room Stand

The job of the Brislington Reserve manager appeared to be to shout. A lot. His favourite phrase being “Squeeze him! Squeeze him!” closely followed by “Pass it! Pass it!”

A rival player entered The Cloakroom Stand and sat next to the WAG, who he appeared to know. While watching the game, I couldn’t help overhear their conversation, which included talk of all the naughty goings-on at Welton Rovers and Bishop Sutton. It was like he was reciting an episode of Sky One’s Dream Team. One story involved how morale was low after a player’s wages were cut to £10 a week.

Match shot

During the second half, I left the cloakroom, remembering to take my hat and coat from the hook, and stood behind the dugouts. The home manager continued to shout at his players “Don’t sell it! Don’t sell yourself!” whatever that means. Glad I’m not a footballer.

Purnell opened the scoring, which resulted in mass celebrations from the away dugout. The linesman for the second half, presumably a Purnell coach, congratulated the goal scorer on a fantastic effort.

Impartial match official

The away side came close to doubling their lead, when a pacey number 10 broke and ran towards goal. “Twat him!” came the instructions from Brislington’s bench. Number 10 got suitably twatted and the score remained 1-0. By this point, the attendance had more than doubled since the start of the game. I counted 25, although a lot of these were substitutes who had become bored of waiting on the bench.

As the game progressed, the challenges and passes became more scrappy. One player slicing the ball into the cloakroom stand, which almost burst on a sharp coat hook. The ball was retrieved before being hoofed out the ground and into a tree, probably destroying a birds nest in the process. Again, a substitute leapt from the bench to get the ball back.

The vocal manager, desperate to rescue a point continued to shout orders at his team. “Don’t stop!” he yelled, before a nearby fan piped up “Believing” Ha ha ha. The players didn’t take much notice of their manager, which infuriated him further “I’m speaking fucking English!” he reminded one player – probably a multi-million pound foreign signing who has little grasp of the language.

By this point I was becoming increasingly concerned. The player who had earlier left the substitutes bench to retrieve the lost ball from the hedgerow hadn’t returned. Anything could have happened – perhaps a badger or hedgehog had eaten him.

Condiments rating: 4/10

Brislington had a great chance to equalise as a decent ball was played to their number 8 who casually strolled into the box like Mario Balotelli. Unlike Mario Balotelli this player didn’t score, instead headed the ball into the stands. As there was no ball boy or fan in that stand, he had to get the ball back himself.

It was at that point I noticed the overweight and middle aged linesman from the first half had stripped down and was all kitted and booted in Brislington colours. The substitution was made and the bloke ran onto the pitch, bearing a number 14 shirt. As he jogged onto the field, a supporter asked if the shirt number represented his weight.

Controversy erupted when a Purnell forward appeared to have been fouled just outside the Brislington penalty area. He looked up, longingly at the referee, hoping for a free kick or penalty. This apparent cheating caused uproar as another player informed the referee “He gone down like he’s been shot!” Amusingly, the player berating the cheat was his very own teammate.

The match was drawing to a close and it looked like Purnell Sports had secured themselves a dramatic away victory. That was until the tubby number 14, who had also been a linesman less than an hour earlier, put all his weight behind the ball and slammed it into the top corner of the Purnell goal. It was a decent strike. 1-1. The player ran to his adoring fans, arms held out before shouting “I’m rolling back the years!”

Following the wonder-goal, Brislington stepped up a gear and turned on the skills. Their Number 2 passing a ball straight from the legs of Purnell’s Number 11. If Lionel Messi had done the same, Sky would be talking about it for weeks. Sublime football.

The referee then blew his whistle. Fans headed for the clubhouse to find out how many goals Liverpool had lost to that week, while others went home to watch Bristol City’s relegation battle against Nottingham Forest.