Blog written by middale
Published: 1st March 2014 18:51
Wednesday 11th August 2010
Oh my days... Rochdale have just been drawn away to Birmingham City in the next round of the Carling Cup! My two favourite teams have never played each other in a competitive match, the nearest meeting thus far being a mortifying near miss in 1991 when bloody Carlisle United blew Dale away in the semi-final of the Leyland Daf Trophy to prevent my all time perfect fixture taking place at Wembley. Whatever, now they’re going to be playing at St Andrews in less than 2 weeks time! I had a vague premonition this might happen, having said to Jake on the journey back from Barnsley that this would be the perfect draw. Wow â€" it’s a little piece of fate and a ready made focal point for this diary!
Meanwhile, back in the real world Lyd was still annoyed with me for getting Jake back home last night at 23.40 so I tried to downplay the football a bit today and wasn’t even sure when the cup draw was on. However, I lapsed and sneakily Googled “Carling Cup Draw†at about 21.30 and the East Lancashire Telegraph website informed me that it was imminently live on Sky Sports News and also seeded, thus increasing the possibility of my dream draw by half. I missed the live draw as Lyd was watching the news but then as I turned to Channel 405 at about 22.30 I saw the ties scrolling across the banner at the bottom of the screen. A few ties passed without any sign of Rochdale or Birmingham and then … GET IN! I’ll soon be witnessing a titanic struggle between Nikola Zigic and Marcus Holness! Lyd said sarcastically that it’s a long time since she’s seen me this happy. She’s not wrong, I feel momentarily like I’ve won the lottery.
“If this is the stuff dreams are made of, no wonder I feel like I’m floating on air†(Second Skin - Chameleons)
“It’s your heart that gives me this western feeling†(This Orient - Foals)
Tuesday 17th August 2010
Six more days have passed and the main event that is Birmingham City v Rochdale should be looming large, but it isn’t. I was away at the weekend and blissfully unaware that bloody Sky had moved the game back from next Tuesday to Thursday. Why?? It’s 2 more days to wait, they never usually choose the big-team-at-home-to-little-team scenario in a cup match, and when I heard about the move I panicked profusely that the new date clashed with theatre tickets Lyd has booked. The discussion on the Rochdale Fans Network also pointed out that the switch could have a knock on effect on the Brentford away game scheduled a mere 2 days later on the Saturday. At least the last 6 days has given me some perspective on the relative importance of the match as the talk on the Rochdale messageboard is that Keith Hill won’t be taking it very seriously, and my Blues supporting friend Steve reminds me that it’s likely to be a small and apathetic home crowd.
Looking more positively, my various ridiculous fantasies over the weekend have now started to subside. They included:
a) emailing any permutation of Sky, Birmingham or Rochdale to explain the personal importance of the match and seeing if they want to interview or entertain me (I went as far as rehearsing what I’d say and dreaming that the interview actually happened on the night of the draw)
b) buying a corporate hospitality package for the match, only £50 a throw as advertised rather desperately on the Blues’ website.
c) using the game as the perfect pretext to email Mark Hodkinson, and pitch to him with the early draft of these ramblings.
Actually ridiculous fantasy c) died an earlier death when I read on the Pomona website that they’re not interested in receiving and new manuscripts (boo, lets blame the bloody recession), so in the event I’ve settled for the eminently more sensible option of replying to the Rochdale exiles email and recommending a pub I know near St Andrews for a pre-match drink. That’s very social and moderately out of character for me.
During these last 6 days I’ve missed Rochdale gathering their second point in League One with a 2-2 draw away at Brighton. Only about another 48 needed now for survival I reckon. I’m not too disappointed at not being there, with this imminent little unemployment situation I feel morally obliged to pick and choose my games carefully. The Withdean Stadium is also notoriously crap, requiring binoculars and a periscope to combat the effects of a running track and a dreadful sunken view from the away end. This all meant I could easily mentally reconcile not being there, so instead I took Jake off to the cricket 20/20 finals in Southampton (I’m not going there with cricket addiction, that’s another story), a tantalising 50 miles away from where Dale were playing.
Plan B in the case of rain all day was definitely a dash along the South Coast to Brighton. It was showers only at the cricket so Plan B didn’t happen, leaving the weird sensation familiar to every fan of constantly wondering how the match was panning out. My phone was refusing to connect to the live scores â€" shit. Finally I connected and got the result soon after full time. It led to the familiar mixed initial reaction. Good: Dale have got a decent result and scored their first goals in League One. Gary Jones has scored both goals. How appropriate for Dale’s all time record appearance holder to score their first goals in League One. Bad: I wasn’t there to witness it, I’ve missed an important piece of modern Dale history unfolding. Later on there was a distinct déjà vu with last Tuesday’s Barnsley experience, as getting Jake back to London at 23.45 despite leaving well before the end of the cricket did not win me many brownie points on the home front, even though I did forewarn Lyd this time…
More immediately, I’m getting anxious. It’s 16.00 on Tuesday as I write and I’m waiting for Lyd to return from work so I can head off to a non-league football match somewhere tonight. The longer she is the more my options reduce. I like the thought of approaching Spaghetti Junction just out of Birmingham in about an hour and making a snap decision on which way to go. Head north on the M6 and there’s still a 3 way choice between Fleetwood v Mansfield, Vauxhall Motors v Telford or Stafford Rangers v Solihull. Head south on the M6 and I could go for Kettering Town v Luton Town. Or straight on the A38 for Eastwood Town v Worcester City. What a crucial life dilemma…
First choice out of this lot would be Fleetwood. It would be a new ground, it’s Blue Square Premier, and quite importantly it would semi-annoy my friend Nick (this type of petty point scoring is fundamental to our friendship), as it is against his beloved Mansfield Town (AKA the Stags). I suppose I have a vague on-off affection for the Stags having been dragged willingly to see them at least 30 times over the years, and this could potentially be re-invigorated now they’ve just signed ex-Dale legend Paul Connor. However, I often secretly want them to lose, if only so that they can stay firmly below Rochdale in football’s food chain.
Against that, it’s a bloody long way to Fleetwood without making a day of it by the seaside. I’d like to explore Fleetwood a bit (like that annoyingly earnest long-haired Scottish guy on BBC’s “Coastâ€) as I’ve never had the privilege, though predictably I’ve been to nearby Blackpool many times for assorted stag do’s, day trips and work conferences. It’s not going to happen though; 16.17 now and still no sign of Lyd.
Second choice Vauxhall Motors has novelty value, it would be a new ground with the bonus of some fans present (they have none and don’t deserve any either, I still haven’t forgiven Vauxhall the company for ripping me off on a car sale and protracted repairs about 7 years ago) as opponents Telford would bring plenty. There’s also the prospect of some goals for Telford who are bound to be far superior. The other options are really the sound of a barrel being scraped; Eastwood would be new but even though I spend half my life studying maps I’ve just had to check exactly where it is in darkest Nottinghamshire. I’ve already been to Stafford and Kettering and the latter is all-ticket anyway.
It’s 16.29 now and it’s looking like Vauxhall Motors here I come. Fleetwood’s definitely not going to happen, Lyd’s still at work when I ring her and has forgotten I wanted to leave at 16.40. She’s finally back at 16.50 and I’m out of here pronto. Just time to tell her I’m heading off to see Vauxhall Motors play in a place called Ellesmere Port, which is “just near Chesterâ€. Even I have to admit this all sounds pretty ridiculous. She probably thinks I’m mad, having a mental breakdown or having an affair. Or all three.
Wednesday 18th August 2010
I went to Fleetwood. I’m not sure exactly how I made it (officer), especially when I got to Spaghetti Junction to be met with a “Congestion M6 North â€" Junctions 7-9†sign, plus a queue to even get on the motorway. But the traffic cleared quickly and I even ended up with 10 minutes spare to make 2 different brief stops on the Fleetwood seafront. This narrowly avoided the possibly unique tourist experience of visiting the thin peninsula that is Fleetwood without even glimpsing the sea. It was still going to be Vauxhall Motors in Ellesmere Port until about 18.15, but when I saw the “Preston 45 miles†sign and thought what the hell, put my foot down and went for it. Driven on by “Antidotes†by Foals at full blast and on constant replay, my humble Fiesta Zetec felt like some futuristic sonic capsule, transporting me north with unseemly haste. I arrived at the ground feeling liberated and exhilarated at the sheer surprise of being there and the expectant atmosphere for Fleetwood’s first ever home game in the Blue Square Premier.
Nick, pessimistically afflicted by the sharp decline of Mansfield in the last 5 years, had dismissively predicted the outcome of this game a few weeks earlier and cited this as 1 of 2 reasons he was declining to go (the second was a more valid excuse of a holiday flight to Cyprus the following morning). He said it was a dead cert 3-1 home win for “moneybags†Fleetwood and would write the match report for me there and then if I liked. He wasn’t far out â€" it was 3-0 and game over with all the goals in the first 25 minutes (meaning that Fleetwood’s jauntily adopted Captain Pugwash sea shanty tune got played in celebration at regular intervals). Nick would have been spot on with his prediction if the Stags hadn’t missed a penalty early in the second half with an inexplicably weedy effort from the diminutive Kiegan Parker.
I just knew the game would peter out into a non-event in the second half though, that’s the typical pattern when one team races into a 2 or 3 goal lead. Disappointingly I was at the wrong end for the goals, especially considering home fans had the option of walking the length of the pitch and watching from either end. In the first half I kept delaying the walk to the other end every 5 minutes until finally taking the plunge after 35 minutes when the goal damage was already done.
When I eventually got to the other end it was like an alarming throwback to the football watching experience of the 1980’s. Rival fans were segregated by high fences and a no-mans-land empty zone. An un-obscured view was virtually impossible, and true to form, this primitive arrangement was bringing out the worst in both sets of fans who were spending most of their time hurling expletive-laden abuse at each other through the gaps in the fences.
Most depressing of all, the main protagonists on both sides were young teenagers and their vitriol was being ignored by the apathetic stewards. Occasional amusing chants from the self-proclaimed Fleetwood Cod Army towards the young Stags fans like “come back when your balls have dropped†were a brief sideshow from the profanities, but did little to salvage the overall gloom. Yet all of this was in stark contrast to the rest of the Fleetwood experience which included a giant replay screen, ultra-modern terrace and trendy sports bar at the other end of the ground. All very curious, who exactly are these new upstarts?
I should probably add that I embarrassed myself somewhat when the Mansfield penalty was awarded. I was at the other end but ran the length of the pitch to be back behind the segregated end just in time to see the feeble effort easily saved. Why bother? Some part of my brain obviously thinks that to experience and mentally log a piece of action in a football match it has to happen directly in front of you. A number of 8 year olds can no doubt empathise with this but is it acceptable for 43 year olds? I know the answer to that one really, but what the hell, you only live once. I’m trying to remember how often I’ve done this distinctly non-league manoeuvre when penalties have been awarded. The ones I recall are games at Bala Town, Newtown and Airbus UK in the 2009/10 season. Others will soon come back to me, probably when I’m struggling to get to sleep tonight.
The journey back from Fleetwood was equally swift, with the combination of pounding music and a quiet, dark motorway making you feel you’ve morphed into some virtual reality video game. But I’ve got my football fix (just as well as there’s nothing doing now until Birmingham v Rochdale), I don’t have to work tomorrow and got back at a very respectable 23.45. Lyd’s still up and not over-impressed at this return time, but where's the problem, I didn't have Jake with me this time.
Friday 20th August 2010
Two more little snippets to report on this rainy Friday. I couldn’t sleep on Wednesday night so I went downstairs and started randomly browsing the internet (as you do). Looking at the Birmingham City website one of the banner headlines announced: “Vacancy: Assistant to the Marketing Directorâ€. It’s not clear whether this is an administrator level job or higher, but it says they’re after someone who enjoys a challenge, is exceptionally organised, can manage their intranet content, and has experience of working in a marketing environment. Hmmm, I reckon I could maybe wangle that. Is this another of life’s little signs and coincidences hot on the heels of the Birmingham v Rochdale draw?
The following day at work the idea that this could be the job for me still hasn’t gone away, so I send the Marketing Director an email asking for clarification on the level of the job. With hindsight it probably wasn’t the sharpest move, asking a potential future employer looking for her own assistant to clarify how much scope the job offers for not supporting her. I’m not sure what I was expecting back exactly but all I’ve got thus far is an “Out of Office†reply.
Then earlier tonight we were having an evening meal at Lydia’s mothers house. Her brother Andrew is up for the weekend from London with his partner. Lydia mentioned that I’m writing this book (her motive I think is to put me on the spot to talk about it as she saw a bit over my shoulder earlier in the week but I refused to let her read it) and Andrew was keen to know more about the content. I muttered that it’s sort of about football addiction and he politely said that it could be really interesting.
Five minutes later into the conversation and the subject got illustrated perfectly. Andrew is going to be 50 on Sunday 14th November and said he was going to have a big party that weekend. He’s leaning towards having it on the Saturday and seeks our advice on whether that would be OK. Quick as a flash, Lyd commented that I’d probably have a prior football commitment. Shit, she’s right. With predictable bad luck Saturday 13th November is Dale away at Sheffield Wednesday, one of the three games for Dale away at fallen giants that I desperately want to see. I’ve paid my dues watching Dale at the likes of Macclesfield and Accrington and now that we’ve hit the big time I must see them (oops, I mean I must let Jake see them) in the big stadiums like Hillsborough and the Valley. Addiction alert, as soon as these dates got mentioned an alarm bell in my brain immediately went “Sheffield Wednesday away, Sheffield Wednesday awayâ€. Is it normal to know your team’s fixture list off by heart?
Yes of course it’s normal. I started to advise Andrew to go for the party on the Sunday but mid-sentence realised it sounded like a bad case of getting life’s priorities wrong, so I meekly came out with the watered down “well I’d prefer the Sunday as Rochdale are away at Sheffield Wednesday but please don’t plan it on my accountâ€. He told me not to worry, just write about it in the book. I didn’t need telling that.