This was a day I was secretly hoping would not come, the moment when I would have to suddenly break free from the safe routine of the working week to travel to some dark football ground in search of a conclusion, an ending, a termination of a tie that would propel the FA Cup from the non league to the Premier League 'business end' of the competition.
A late change to my travel plans was a telling example of my uneasiness about the game, which I had had to take a days annual leave for. Originally hoping to take the train to London, I realised that should the game go to extra time or penalties, I wouldn't make the train home. I drove. Into Central London.
Loftus Road lies at a jagged angle to the long boulevard South Africa Road, its exterior facade almost jutting out onto the road itself. Either side of the road are apartment blocks, a pub, and behind the stadium is a local school. The inside of the stadium is not much better. Loftus Road is mainly famous for being the only ground in top flight English football to have a synthetic pitch,apart from that, it is a truly unremarkable stadium. Away fans enter through the turnstile and walk along a narrow corridor, which opens up onto a long concorse, to the left of which are the stairs outside into the terraces. Lets get something straight. Loftus Road is like a 1970's football stadium with seats. While QPR have been under the leadership of a new wealthy owners for some time now, the School End lower tier remains a place of ugliness, of pokey piss stained concrete walls and cramped stairways.
One MK fan observed to me that 'no one was sitting in their right seat, so just sit anywhere.' Great. The lower tier were buoyant, and one thing I immediately observed was how claustraphobic it all was, with the roof of the upper tier very close to your head. To my right was an MK fan who can't have been much older than 20, with a mouth that suggested that he had been one of Mick Jagger's lovechildren. On my left was a fan of similar age, wearing a burberry scarf, who looked on the whole far too Joey Essexlike to be seen near a football stadium. To make matters worse, they had Buckinghamshire accents.
The football was predictable. QPR, as the home side, barely touched the ball inside the first 10 minutes, it was a good 20 minutes before they had their first serious chance. MK began the game as they had left off, full of running, eager to establish their slick passing style on the home team. On the whole I was impressed with the Dons, I honestly thought they would struggle away against a Premiership team but QPR did nothing to suggest that they knew what they were doing or where they were going as a club. They looked, to all intents and purposes, like a team struggling to justify their Premier League status. MK, however, were full of confidence, their busy centre forward Ibehre backed up by a busy midfield who knew how to play the ball on the ground.
Once again however, just like in the original tie, MK displayed a punishing weakness in the final third, often wasting a chance by playing one too many passes. They were occasionally guilty of being too casual when trying to play the ball out from the back, modest intentions cut short by a telling reminder that they are after all, no Barcelona. QPR DID go close themselves in the first half, and they have Shaun Wright Phillips to thank for contriving to miss a great chance to put them 1-0 ahead. For the most part though, QPR were pretty dire.
With a 0-0 scoreline at halftime, I was left contemplating the possibility of spending an extra 45 minutes in this rotten poor excuse of a stadium, when I caught sight of a member of the general public, frantically running around an illuminous yellow pole potruding from the ground between the centre circle and the 'D'. The man, after running around the pole 10 times, then attempted to run back towards the penalty spot where he would then try to score past the QPR mascot. The first fan fell over after 3 steps, to the delight of the home fans. The second fan incredibly made it all the way to the ball, slipping over as he made contact. Finally, the last fan managed to overcome the forces of giddiness, scoring a sublime effort. Say what you like about the Premier League, you can't knock half time entertainment.
Soon, the game resumed. MK were on top. Yet again. This was exasperating me, as I was honestly hoping for an end to end game in which both teams would play their part. Instead, MK looked even better after the half time interval, creating several good chances in the first 15 minutes. My evening changed however, as QPR somehow scored a goal from nothing, seemingly condemming the brave Dons to defeat. No one in the grotty lower tier could believe what we were seeing. Rangers had played so poorly in both games, yet were winning with barely 10 minutes left. Their professionalism alone was enough to see them through if nothing else.
In the end, it was a heartbraking, if not ultimately predictable finish to an eventful cup run for the Dons. They can take heart from the fact that they played so well throughout, and national TV audiences have had the pleasure of seeing their own brand of attractive football, that will no doubt see them well through to the end of the season.
For myself however, this result represents a severe change in my own FA Cup fortunes. QPR are due to play Chelsea in the 4th Round. Of all ties, not only is it in London, but it is also a local derby, and initial inquiries suggest that the game will not even enter general sale. A grotty, cold, piss poor night in Central London, could this be the end of my FA Cup dream?
Thursday, 19 January 2012
Tuesday, 10 January 2012
MK Dons 1 QPR 1
Sitting on the train travelling towards Britain's most famous 'new town' it suddenly hit me that I really could be at the scene of an FA Cup giantkilling. MK were in hot form in the league, 4th in the table and playing some great football, well placed to challenge for a promotion place to the Championship. QPR on the other hand, had lost the momentum they began the season with and they had also lost their enigmatic captain Joey Barton the previous week. Unbeknownst to them at the time, they would be soon to lose their manager as well.
Of course, the giantkilling didn't happen, but it nearly did. What struck me about the game was that both sets of players played their part in making it a spectacle, a superb end to end 'proper' cup tie, evoking the finest traditions of English football. Also surprising, was the appearance of an unlikely 12th man. In my previous visit to the Stadiummk, merely 5,000 fans had bothered to make the journey from the surrounding towns and villages. Today however, Milton Keynes had bizarrely managed to acquire about 10,000 extra fans for this tie, and the stadium was nearly full to capacity and boasted a record attendance of 19,508.
MK were well up for this tie, and wasted no time in taking the game to the London outfit, controlling the midfield, and had a goal disallowed in the first 10 minutes. QPR by contrast, looked like a team who were struggling big time. Warnock had made some pre match excuses by suggesting that he wouldn't be able to field a full strength side anyway, but even so, it was a team containing Manchester United striker Macheda, experienced first team players in Luke Young and Shaun Derry. If they had wanted to win, surely they could have.
In the end however, it was left to the home side to turn on the quality, creating chances left right and centre, If there was a criticism of MK, it was merely that they were trying to walk the ball into the net, often playing one pass too many instead of taking a shot at goal. It came as no surprise then, when their talismanic striker Dean Bowditch put them ahead in the second half. MK were flying, the stadium was rocking and even at only 1-0 with over 20 minutes to play, it seemed a foregone conclusion. A fact embellished by the injury to Faurlin, which left QPR having to finish with 10 men after using their subs. QPR were so bad that at one stage, their own fans were mimicking the home fans taunts of 'Premier league, you're having a laugh'.
Enter MK Dons goalkeeper, David Martin.
Two minutes from time, as a long ball came hurtling towards him, Martin committed an error that even Peter Enckelman would have been proud. Running out of his box, Martin failed to deal with the long ball, which fell to the onrushing Helguson, who then dispatched it into an empty net. Two minutes from a memorable giantkilling. A million miles away from everything they had worked so hard for in the previous 88 minutes.
For Dons fans, it was such a cruel end to a totally enthralling cup tie. For Rangers fans, a chance to take the Dons back to Loftus Road for the replay for which they will surely fancy their chances in front of a home crowd. Back in August when I started this blog, I wondered what it would be like to get down to London for a midweek replay. This time next week i'll be finding out.
Of course, the giantkilling didn't happen, but it nearly did. What struck me about the game was that both sets of players played their part in making it a spectacle, a superb end to end 'proper' cup tie, evoking the finest traditions of English football. Also surprising, was the appearance of an unlikely 12th man. In my previous visit to the Stadiummk, merely 5,000 fans had bothered to make the journey from the surrounding towns and villages. Today however, Milton Keynes had bizarrely managed to acquire about 10,000 extra fans for this tie, and the stadium was nearly full to capacity and boasted a record attendance of 19,508.
MK were well up for this tie, and wasted no time in taking the game to the London outfit, controlling the midfield, and had a goal disallowed in the first 10 minutes. QPR by contrast, looked like a team who were struggling big time. Warnock had made some pre match excuses by suggesting that he wouldn't be able to field a full strength side anyway, but even so, it was a team containing Manchester United striker Macheda, experienced first team players in Luke Young and Shaun Derry. If they had wanted to win, surely they could have.
In the end however, it was left to the home side to turn on the quality, creating chances left right and centre, If there was a criticism of MK, it was merely that they were trying to walk the ball into the net, often playing one pass too many instead of taking a shot at goal. It came as no surprise then, when their talismanic striker Dean Bowditch put them ahead in the second half. MK were flying, the stadium was rocking and even at only 1-0 with over 20 minutes to play, it seemed a foregone conclusion. A fact embellished by the injury to Faurlin, which left QPR having to finish with 10 men after using their subs. QPR were so bad that at one stage, their own fans were mimicking the home fans taunts of 'Premier league, you're having a laugh'.
Enter MK Dons goalkeeper, David Martin.
Two minutes from time, as a long ball came hurtling towards him, Martin committed an error that even Peter Enckelman would have been proud. Running out of his box, Martin failed to deal with the long ball, which fell to the onrushing Helguson, who then dispatched it into an empty net. Two minutes from a memorable giantkilling. A million miles away from everything they had worked so hard for in the previous 88 minutes.
For Dons fans, it was such a cruel end to a totally enthralling cup tie. For Rangers fans, a chance to take the Dons back to Loftus Road for the replay for which they will surely fancy their chances in front of a home crowd. Back in August when I started this blog, I wondered what it would be like to get down to London for a midweek replay. This time next week i'll be finding out.
Monday, 12 December 2011
Barnet 1 MK Dons 3
It was cold. It was wet. And worst of all, it was at Barnet, some backwatered shithole in North London. Yet this tie was something I was extremely excited about, because it presented to me exactly the kind of experience I have been craving since I began the cup run.
I am a child of the heath and safety generation, an age which roughly began as the terrible events unfolded on an April afternoon in Sheffield in 1989. The consequences of the disaster have changed football stadiums forever in this country, something superbly demonstrated by the stadiummk.
This tie however, gave me a chance to experience life on the terraces for the first time ever. Barnet's stadium is the epitome of the old fashioned football ground, the away terrace is accessed via a long passageway, a couple of seating areas sit uneasily with the open air terraces along the length of the pitch. There is actually a slope. The away terrace hosts one small refreshments 'cupboard'.
After purchasing my meat pie, I decided to perch myself at the back, assuming the further towards the back I was, the better the view I would have. I was wrong. Seconds later I dropped my plastic fork down the other side of the railings and the grim reality of no seating was starting to hit me. I had to spend the rest of the game in a cold terrace up close and far too personal to some idiot mk fans (how funny, I thought, that they can barely muster a 4,000 attendance for a home game, yet when away they suddenly find their voice). Towards the end of the game I had had enough of standing and perched myself on a metal bar running the length of the terrace. Old school indeed.
As for the game, I consider Barnet to be extremely unlucky, on virtue of a spectacularly missed chance in the first half; the front man hitting the ball on the turn and, with nothing but an own goal to aim at, shooting wide from 10 yards. It was clear to all that MK were the better team on the ball though for the majority of the game there was little to speak about; neither team being able to open up the other. Cruel then, that the Dons should score first literally minutes after Barnets wasted chance.
The second half was a great deal more entertaining, as the weather turned colder, darker, and both sets of players seemed to have woken from their first half slumber party. Barnet however seemed unable to break down the solidity of MK's defence, and it wasn't till MK were comfortably 2-0 up that the Bees seriously began to threaten. Getting a goal back late in the second half threatened the prospect of a dramatic comeback, only to be cruelly swept aside by the fluidity of the Dons passing, and at 3-1 it was all over. Thankfully, time to exit a freezing stand and get the hell out of there.
I am a child of the heath and safety generation, an age which roughly began as the terrible events unfolded on an April afternoon in Sheffield in 1989. The consequences of the disaster have changed football stadiums forever in this country, something superbly demonstrated by the stadiummk.
This tie however, gave me a chance to experience life on the terraces for the first time ever. Barnet's stadium is the epitome of the old fashioned football ground, the away terrace is accessed via a long passageway, a couple of seating areas sit uneasily with the open air terraces along the length of the pitch. There is actually a slope. The away terrace hosts one small refreshments 'cupboard'.
After purchasing my meat pie, I decided to perch myself at the back, assuming the further towards the back I was, the better the view I would have. I was wrong. Seconds later I dropped my plastic fork down the other side of the railings and the grim reality of no seating was starting to hit me. I had to spend the rest of the game in a cold terrace up close and far too personal to some idiot mk fans (how funny, I thought, that they can barely muster a 4,000 attendance for a home game, yet when away they suddenly find their voice). Towards the end of the game I had had enough of standing and perched myself on a metal bar running the length of the terrace. Old school indeed.
As for the game, I consider Barnet to be extremely unlucky, on virtue of a spectacularly missed chance in the first half; the front man hitting the ball on the turn and, with nothing but an own goal to aim at, shooting wide from 10 yards. It was clear to all that MK were the better team on the ball though for the majority of the game there was little to speak about; neither team being able to open up the other. Cruel then, that the Dons should score first literally minutes after Barnets wasted chance.
The second half was a great deal more entertaining, as the weather turned colder, darker, and both sets of players seemed to have woken from their first half slumber party. Barnet however seemed unable to break down the solidity of MK's defence, and it wasn't till MK were comfortably 2-0 up that the Bees seriously began to threaten. Getting a goal back late in the second half threatened the prospect of a dramatic comeback, only to be cruelly swept aside by the fluidity of the Dons passing, and at 3-1 it was all over. Thankfully, time to exit a freezing stand and get the hell out of there.
Monday, 14 November 2011
Milton Keynes Dons 6 Nantwich Town 0
The sun was shining brightly as I headed south towards Milton Keynes for this 1st round tie, a hugely momentous occasion for the away side Nantwich Town, who I had encountered in the previous round. Memories of 2 weeks ago were still fresh in my memory as I drove along the A5 all the way to Britain's last 'new city' and possessing a ticket in the away end of the ground, I was full of optimism and anticipation of a cup upset of David v Goliath proportions. It turned out that I wasn't alone, hundreds of Nantwich fans making the journey south for the biggest game in their clubs history, and who could blame them.
The setting for this scene of anticipated giant killing possessed nothing of the traditional beauty of the northern market town. Milton Keynes at best, can be described as a bold attempt to create a socialist paradise in Britain, at worst, an artificial, fake amalgamation of concrete and roundabouts. The Stadiummk effectively symbolises the city's lack of identity and culture. It is undoubtedly huge, with plenty of space around the edge for car parks. There is a nice little walkway from the stadium going to the nearest Asda. Upon gaining entry to the stadium, you find yourself on a sheltered concourse area that spans the length of the stadium, splitting the two tiers in half. The seats are clean, spacious and very comfortable. Every penny has been spent to ensure the comfort, health and safety of the many spectators in the venue. Yet this is where the problems begin.
There are no fans.
The stadium can hold up to 20,000 people, and incredibly, there are plans to use the upper tier to increase capacity to 32,000. Yet on Saturday, the day of the 1st Round of the greatest cup competition on earth, only 4,000 odd fans were in attendance. True, the local authorities are hoping to use the stadium for other events such as music concerts and other sports, which is just as well. There was a shocking lack of atmosphere throughout the entire game. It almost seemed like the home fans were continuing the minutes silence throughout the whole first half.
The Nantwich crowd however, were showing no signs of laxity towards the experience. They were vocal, dressed in absurd clothes and wearing funny hats and genuinely having a good time. In fact, they provided as much entertainment as the game itself.
Nantwich certainly started brightly, and for 10 minutes it actually seemed as if our pre game optimism could realistically be transferred to those on the pitch. MK were always going to be the better team however, and it took them just half an hour to go two goals ahead, both goals coming from some slick passing from midfield, which Nantwich failed to cope with. At half time, I already knew who I would be following in the next round.
The second half brought little respite for the Dabbers, any hopes of a comeback were dramatically dashed by a freekick soon after the restart. From then on it was merely a case of counting down the minutes until the end, though it was heartening to see Nantwich, unburdened by the pressure of being within a chance, actually having a go. The problem was that MK were just too quick and sharp for them, a fact demonstrated by the last two goals as they merely soaked up any Dabber pressure, and calved them open on the counter attack.
It was at this moment that I decided to turn my attentions to what was going on in the stands. Not the MK end of course, they were all asleep, but the lively section of Nantwich fans in front of me behind the goal. I had noticed at various points throughout the game that members of the MK Safety Team had been circling round the group, pointing and wagging various fingers with concerned looks on their faces. At one point, a member of a safety team waded into the crowd, and appeared to have a disagreement with a bloke who to all intents and purposes looked like he had the word 'HOOLIGAN' on his forehead. Another Safety Team member, I don't know his name but shall refer to him as Captain Jobsworth, told a fan several times to stop smoking.
All this was very lighthearted, but things started to get a little more serious as the group of fans, no doubt aggrieved by their teams poor showing, began to take their frustrations out on a certain member of the Safety Team. This guy was the wrong side of chubby, a fact no doubt taken into consideration by the group, who began a superb rendition of "Have You Ever Seen Your Dick", pointing to the guy in question.
This again was quite funny, until two of the fans, including Hooligan Boy I have previously mentioned, incredibly started fighting each other. The Safety Team wasted no time in wading on in there, determined to sniff out the offending imbeciles, and they swiftly hauled them out, one by one amid much raucous laughter and jeering. Though Captain Jobsworth was watching from the sidelines, the real hero of the hour was the fat guy who they had been singing to moments before, grabbing several fans by the throat and literally dragging them out. In all, about ten fans were evicted.
This whole incident lasted merely 10 minutes, yet it was easily the most entertaining period of the 2nd half, though MK had dominated proceedings, it was a shame that their fans had not turned out in droves to make a real atmosphere. For Nantwich and their fans, it had no doubt been a memorable occasion, albeit one that ended with the inevitable conclusion, a 6-0 drubbing. Still, history had been made for them, I am sure they will savour the experience for years to come.
For Milton Keynes, a tie away at Barnet awaits them, and one can only hope that their fans will experience a proper atmosphere there, and maybe pick up some tips.
The setting for this scene of anticipated giant killing possessed nothing of the traditional beauty of the northern market town. Milton Keynes at best, can be described as a bold attempt to create a socialist paradise in Britain, at worst, an artificial, fake amalgamation of concrete and roundabouts. The Stadiummk effectively symbolises the city's lack of identity and culture. It is undoubtedly huge, with plenty of space around the edge for car parks. There is a nice little walkway from the stadium going to the nearest Asda. Upon gaining entry to the stadium, you find yourself on a sheltered concourse area that spans the length of the stadium, splitting the two tiers in half. The seats are clean, spacious and very comfortable. Every penny has been spent to ensure the comfort, health and safety of the many spectators in the venue. Yet this is where the problems begin.
There are no fans.
The stadium can hold up to 20,000 people, and incredibly, there are plans to use the upper tier to increase capacity to 32,000. Yet on Saturday, the day of the 1st Round of the greatest cup competition on earth, only 4,000 odd fans were in attendance. True, the local authorities are hoping to use the stadium for other events such as music concerts and other sports, which is just as well. There was a shocking lack of atmosphere throughout the entire game. It almost seemed like the home fans were continuing the minutes silence throughout the whole first half.
The Nantwich crowd however, were showing no signs of laxity towards the experience. They were vocal, dressed in absurd clothes and wearing funny hats and genuinely having a good time. In fact, they provided as much entertainment as the game itself.
Nantwich certainly started brightly, and for 10 minutes it actually seemed as if our pre game optimism could realistically be transferred to those on the pitch. MK were always going to be the better team however, and it took them just half an hour to go two goals ahead, both goals coming from some slick passing from midfield, which Nantwich failed to cope with. At half time, I already knew who I would be following in the next round.
The second half brought little respite for the Dabbers, any hopes of a comeback were dramatically dashed by a freekick soon after the restart. From then on it was merely a case of counting down the minutes until the end, though it was heartening to see Nantwich, unburdened by the pressure of being within a chance, actually having a go. The problem was that MK were just too quick and sharp for them, a fact demonstrated by the last two goals as they merely soaked up any Dabber pressure, and calved them open on the counter attack.
It was at this moment that I decided to turn my attentions to what was going on in the stands. Not the MK end of course, they were all asleep, but the lively section of Nantwich fans in front of me behind the goal. I had noticed at various points throughout the game that members of the MK Safety Team had been circling round the group, pointing and wagging various fingers with concerned looks on their faces. At one point, a member of a safety team waded into the crowd, and appeared to have a disagreement with a bloke who to all intents and purposes looked like he had the word 'HOOLIGAN' on his forehead. Another Safety Team member, I don't know his name but shall refer to him as Captain Jobsworth, told a fan several times to stop smoking.
All this was very lighthearted, but things started to get a little more serious as the group of fans, no doubt aggrieved by their teams poor showing, began to take their frustrations out on a certain member of the Safety Team. This guy was the wrong side of chubby, a fact no doubt taken into consideration by the group, who began a superb rendition of "Have You Ever Seen Your Dick", pointing to the guy in question.
This again was quite funny, until two of the fans, including Hooligan Boy I have previously mentioned, incredibly started fighting each other. The Safety Team wasted no time in wading on in there, determined to sniff out the offending imbeciles, and they swiftly hauled them out, one by one amid much raucous laughter and jeering. Though Captain Jobsworth was watching from the sidelines, the real hero of the hour was the fat guy who they had been singing to moments before, grabbing several fans by the throat and literally dragging them out. In all, about ten fans were evicted.
This whole incident lasted merely 10 minutes, yet it was easily the most entertaining period of the 2nd half, though MK had dominated proceedings, it was a shame that their fans had not turned out in droves to make a real atmosphere. For Nantwich and their fans, it had no doubt been a memorable occasion, albeit one that ended with the inevitable conclusion, a 6-0 drubbing. Still, history had been made for them, I am sure they will savour the experience for years to come.
For Milton Keynes, a tie away at Barnet awaits them, and one can only hope that their fans will experience a proper atmosphere there, and maybe pick up some tips.
Sunday, 30 October 2011
Nantwich Town 1 Nuneaton Town 0
There can be few finer places to finish the qualifying rounds of the FA Cup than the historic town of Nantwich. Fate had delivered me what I had secretly been hoping for since I began my cup exploits at Boldmere, a trip away from the Midlands, one that would promise a new experience, a new scene, maybe a different style of football.Though for a while I was flirting with the dull prospect of a home tie at Nuneaton, I was glad to be driving up the M6 to Cheshire and I was not disappointed by what I found there. I decided to set off a bit early for this one, not merely to allow for traffic, but I set my sights on taking in all that Nantwich had to offer.
Nantwich today stands aloof from the bigger economic powerhouses of the North West, namely Manchester and Liverpool, and thus retains much of its market town character. The town is mainly associated with two events in English history. It was the scene of a "Great Fire" in 1583, superceded only by London's calamity almost a hundred years later. Even more prominent was the role Nantwich was to play in the battle for power between Parliament and the Royalists during the Civil War. Nantwich was the only town in Cheshire to support Parliament and was the scene of a siege lasting 6 weeks in 1644. Today you can still visit the sight of the battle, and it is reenacted annually.
Back to more important matters, and after sampling some of the local culinary delights it was time to take one's place inside the Weaver Stadium. On asking a local where the best place to stand would be, I was swiftly whisked away through some doors and tunnells, past the officials and into the club shop, where I was given a ticket which allowed me to sit undercover. Nice. It turns out that Nantwich and Nuneaton are fairly matched on the football field, the first half was an entirely cagey affair, with few chances for either side. Nuneaton fans, though few in number were extremely vocal in their support, and it certainly looked like the home side would have a tough task ahead of them.
The referee was certainly not helping matters, dealing his first yellow card of the game just 2 minutes in, and attempting to stop the game at every opportunity. It was cold. It was breezy. And for almost the entire first half, it was quite boring. How often it is though, that goals change games. Though neither side had had many chances, though it was clear that the Dabbers were the better team on the ball, more composed, more creative than their opponents, and a spell of possession soon worked a chance to cross the ball from the right hand side. A fine cross it was, though evading everyone except the Nuneaton goalkeeper who will no doubt be forever cursing his moment of tragic horror. It was an error worthy of mention alongside that of Mr Enkelman, the keeper failing to get a sure grip on the ball, spilling it, and looking back in anguish as its momentum carried it over the line into a gaping net, prompting the eruption, the spilling of hot coffee, the clapping of hands from roughly 800 Nantwich fans. Neil Collett, take a bow.
Instantly, the game changed. Both teams realised that this was the moment, this was their time, and Nuneaton to their credit wasted no time in galvanizing themselves, coming ever so close on a number of occasions. This game was finally turning out to be the spectacle we had all imagined it could, and then....enter our card happy official. A fifty fifty ball near the halfway line resulted in a challenge which the referee was clearly not too pleased about, but few Nantwich fans foresaw the straight red card that was to follow. Still, the unsavoury dismissal made the situation all the more desperate for the home side, who were now surviving constant Nuneaton attacks and were clinging on to their advantage. The Dabbers themselves could have made it 2-0 moments before the end but Danny Mitchley's shot smacked the woodwork, bouncing out for a throw.
It was with much relief that the whistle eventually came, and it wasn't until that moment, as I witnessed the jubilation, that the true scale of this tie hit me. Nantwich Town had just made it to the First Round draw for the first time in their 127 year history. For the players, fans, and anyone else connected with the club, today was surely the biggest game of their lives, it was their cup final. Or maybe not. We have already learned today of Nantwich's opponents in the first round, an away tie at MK Dons awaits them.
We have only just finished the qualifying rounds, still 3 rounds before the prospect of a Premier League giant killing, yet already the FA Cup has demonstrated its ability to captivate, enthrall and surprise thousands of fans throughout the country with days like this.
Nantwich today stands aloof from the bigger economic powerhouses of the North West, namely Manchester and Liverpool, and thus retains much of its market town character. The town is mainly associated with two events in English history. It was the scene of a "Great Fire" in 1583, superceded only by London's calamity almost a hundred years later. Even more prominent was the role Nantwich was to play in the battle for power between Parliament and the Royalists during the Civil War. Nantwich was the only town in Cheshire to support Parliament and was the scene of a siege lasting 6 weeks in 1644. Today you can still visit the sight of the battle, and it is reenacted annually.
Back to more important matters, and after sampling some of the local culinary delights it was time to take one's place inside the Weaver Stadium. On asking a local where the best place to stand would be, I was swiftly whisked away through some doors and tunnells, past the officials and into the club shop, where I was given a ticket which allowed me to sit undercover. Nice. It turns out that Nantwich and Nuneaton are fairly matched on the football field, the first half was an entirely cagey affair, with few chances for either side. Nuneaton fans, though few in number were extremely vocal in their support, and it certainly looked like the home side would have a tough task ahead of them.
The referee was certainly not helping matters, dealing his first yellow card of the game just 2 minutes in, and attempting to stop the game at every opportunity. It was cold. It was breezy. And for almost the entire first half, it was quite boring. How often it is though, that goals change games. Though neither side had had many chances, though it was clear that the Dabbers were the better team on the ball, more composed, more creative than their opponents, and a spell of possession soon worked a chance to cross the ball from the right hand side. A fine cross it was, though evading everyone except the Nuneaton goalkeeper who will no doubt be forever cursing his moment of tragic horror. It was an error worthy of mention alongside that of Mr Enkelman, the keeper failing to get a sure grip on the ball, spilling it, and looking back in anguish as its momentum carried it over the line into a gaping net, prompting the eruption, the spilling of hot coffee, the clapping of hands from roughly 800 Nantwich fans. Neil Collett, take a bow.
Instantly, the game changed. Both teams realised that this was the moment, this was their time, and Nuneaton to their credit wasted no time in galvanizing themselves, coming ever so close on a number of occasions. This game was finally turning out to be the spectacle we had all imagined it could, and then....enter our card happy official. A fifty fifty ball near the halfway line resulted in a challenge which the referee was clearly not too pleased about, but few Nantwich fans foresaw the straight red card that was to follow. Still, the unsavoury dismissal made the situation all the more desperate for the home side, who were now surviving constant Nuneaton attacks and were clinging on to their advantage. The Dabbers themselves could have made it 2-0 moments before the end but Danny Mitchley's shot smacked the woodwork, bouncing out for a throw.
It was with much relief that the whistle eventually came, and it wasn't until that moment, as I witnessed the jubilation, that the true scale of this tie hit me. Nantwich Town had just made it to the First Round draw for the first time in their 127 year history. For the players, fans, and anyone else connected with the club, today was surely the biggest game of their lives, it was their cup final. Or maybe not. We have already learned today of Nantwich's opponents in the first round, an away tie at MK Dons awaits them.
We have only just finished the qualifying rounds, still 3 rounds before the prospect of a Premier League giant killing, yet already the FA Cup has demonstrated its ability to captivate, enthrall and surprise thousands of fans throughout the country with days like this.
Sunday, 16 October 2011
Daventry Town 1 Nuneaton Borough 2
It was a shortlived spell that I got to see Daventry play in this season's competition, however they have so far been the team that has captured my attention with their hunger, desire and for the atmosphere inside the ground. Coming to Daventry has felt like coming to a proper football club, one that stays true to its roots but can also harbour ambitions of success.
Right from when the draw was announced I had a feeling this tie was going to be special. Firstly, having spent the best part of a year working in the town of Nuneaton, I had the pleasure of knowing some of the locals, for all their charm and quirkiness. Secondly, I happened to be acquainted with the home side's assistant manager, Mr Andy Reece who had, for the previous game, generously provided me with a signed programme. My interest in this game was to heighten even more upon learning that a certain Mr Lee Hendrie might be making his Daventry debut.
Unsurprisingly, I was rooting for the hosts, though in reality they had little hope. Nuneaton are 2 divisions above them, playing in the Blue Square Premier, which for Daventry, was quite a leap in standard. However it proved to be a much tighter game on the pitch, Nuneaton were quiet in the first half, unlike their fans, and by half time the scores were still level. Both teams had had chances but it was certainly Daventry who were controlling long passages of play, their main attacking outlet being my friend Lee. The former Villan showed some neat touches and seemed more than capable of fitting in to his new team.
How often it is though, that games are won and lost in the second half. Daventry were by now playing with the sun in their eyes and it showed, Nuneaton scoring just after the interval and in a second seemingly undoing all of Daventry's excellent first half work. Still, it was harsh on the home side, the goal only being scored courtesy of a huge deflection. And they deserve a lot of credit for the manner in which they fought back, still going forward, still creating some good chances, their only failure being totally unable to hit the target. Up until the disasterous second goal, Daventry still had an excellent chance. This changed however, after a defender failed to clear the ball, instead choosing to make life incredibly hard for himself....do I need to tell you what happened next?
Yet still, at 0-2 down, with barely a third of the match remaining, they kept coming, and to my mind they thoroughly deserved their goal when it finally did come, and what a finish it was too, a cracking strike from 20 yards out. Had a close range header been just inches lower it would surely have sent the vast majority of fans into a state of delerium just seconds from the end, but it wasn't to be.
I cannot help but feel quite sad about Daventry's exit. They matched Nuneaton for long periods of the game and to concede two goals the way they did must be crushing. To be honest, I'm not exactly relishing the idea of a home draw at Nuneaton either, I used to work there, working for the local community and I'm bound to bump into someone I know. So here's to an away draw!
Right from when the draw was announced I had a feeling this tie was going to be special. Firstly, having spent the best part of a year working in the town of Nuneaton, I had the pleasure of knowing some of the locals, for all their charm and quirkiness. Secondly, I happened to be acquainted with the home side's assistant manager, Mr Andy Reece who had, for the previous game, generously provided me with a signed programme. My interest in this game was to heighten even more upon learning that a certain Mr Lee Hendrie might be making his Daventry debut.
Unsurprisingly, I was rooting for the hosts, though in reality they had little hope. Nuneaton are 2 divisions above them, playing in the Blue Square Premier, which for Daventry, was quite a leap in standard. However it proved to be a much tighter game on the pitch, Nuneaton were quiet in the first half, unlike their fans, and by half time the scores were still level. Both teams had had chances but it was certainly Daventry who were controlling long passages of play, their main attacking outlet being my friend Lee. The former Villan showed some neat touches and seemed more than capable of fitting in to his new team.
How often it is though, that games are won and lost in the second half. Daventry were by now playing with the sun in their eyes and it showed, Nuneaton scoring just after the interval and in a second seemingly undoing all of Daventry's excellent first half work. Still, it was harsh on the home side, the goal only being scored courtesy of a huge deflection. And they deserve a lot of credit for the manner in which they fought back, still going forward, still creating some good chances, their only failure being totally unable to hit the target. Up until the disasterous second goal, Daventry still had an excellent chance. This changed however, after a defender failed to clear the ball, instead choosing to make life incredibly hard for himself....do I need to tell you what happened next?
Yet still, at 0-2 down, with barely a third of the match remaining, they kept coming, and to my mind they thoroughly deserved their goal when it finally did come, and what a finish it was too, a cracking strike from 20 yards out. Had a close range header been just inches lower it would surely have sent the vast majority of fans into a state of delerium just seconds from the end, but it wasn't to be.
I cannot help but feel quite sad about Daventry's exit. They matched Nuneaton for long periods of the game and to concede two goals the way they did must be crushing. To be honest, I'm not exactly relishing the idea of a home draw at Nuneaton either, I used to work there, working for the local community and I'm bound to bump into someone I know. So here's to an away draw!
Sunday, 2 October 2011
Daventry Town 2 Leamington FC 1
"Sports serve society by providing vivid examples of excellence" - George F. Will (1941 -)
Too true, George. One could have been forgiven for thinking that they had landed in a sort of football heaven yesterday afternoon, strolling around the Communications Park Stadium. Not only were there the examples of excellence on the field to which Mr Will was aluding to, but also one could point to the sublime cornish pasty I was eating, the swanky bar with its flatscreen tvs showing sky sports, and of course, the Indian Summer weather as such vivid examples of excellence.
However, the joy of the afternoon was not quite so apparent during the car journey there. I had managed to procure a companion, by the name of Mr Lee Wood to join me on my latest trip across the English football universe. The trip began promisingly, topics being discussed included exactly which group of supporters we should include ourselves in; was the great Debbie Hodgkins going to make an appearance; would Daventry Town have a bar named after a local hero like their Leamington counterparts? Pretty soon however, Lee, or Poosh as he is better known, was overcome by the heat and descended into a nap on the passenger seat. I also inexpliceably lost concentration and contrived to enter the M1 driving in the wrong direction.
We eventually arrived about 3 minutes late, and by the time we had negotiated the queue at the burger bar and actually acquired our lunch, it was almost halfway through the first half. Not that we missed much during that time. Both teams seemed evenly matched with Leamington just shading the possession but unable to make anything count. Daventry Town took advantage of their opponents inability to put in a decent cross, twice creating two chances on the counter attack, and converting both.
Perhaps this would be an ideal time to revert back to Mr Will's wise words at the beginning of the article; yes the weather was good, yes the cornish pasty filled a hole, but these examples of excellence surely pale into insignificance when you consider Leamington's sublime example of how not to defend. The first goal was a terrible one to concede, a low cross towards the near post, both defender and goalkeeper combined to make a complete hash of clearing the danger, and it was left to an onrushing Daventry player to tap in.
Though Leamington worked hard, they failed to deliver one decent cross into the box, too often struggling in the final third to create a decent chance, and it was the collapse of yet another attack that Daventry were able to capitalise on, within seconds finishing off at the other end with a tidy finish from about 10 yards out. All this before half time, and I couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for Leamington, who had had more than their lions share of possession. However, from 2-0 down it was always going to be a battle and so it proved, though not for the want of trying. I feel the Brakes deserve credit for their courageous fightback in the second half, and they certainly finished the game the stronger of the two sides. I was also quite pleased when they managed to gain some reward for their hard work, a penalty in the last minute of the game.
However, the tie belonged to Daventry, who provided a superb example of counter attacking football to win the match, and both me and Poosh agreed that the best team had won.
And so we have come to the end of yet another FA Cup weekend, so far Boldmere have graced themselves, Leamington have provided a short distraction, but now my attention turns to Daventry Town FC and I await the draw on Monday with a keen anticipation.....
Too true, George. One could have been forgiven for thinking that they had landed in a sort of football heaven yesterday afternoon, strolling around the Communications Park Stadium. Not only were there the examples of excellence on the field to which Mr Will was aluding to, but also one could point to the sublime cornish pasty I was eating, the swanky bar with its flatscreen tvs showing sky sports, and of course, the Indian Summer weather as such vivid examples of excellence.
However, the joy of the afternoon was not quite so apparent during the car journey there. I had managed to procure a companion, by the name of Mr Lee Wood to join me on my latest trip across the English football universe. The trip began promisingly, topics being discussed included exactly which group of supporters we should include ourselves in; was the great Debbie Hodgkins going to make an appearance; would Daventry Town have a bar named after a local hero like their Leamington counterparts? Pretty soon however, Lee, or Poosh as he is better known, was overcome by the heat and descended into a nap on the passenger seat. I also inexpliceably lost concentration and contrived to enter the M1 driving in the wrong direction.
We eventually arrived about 3 minutes late, and by the time we had negotiated the queue at the burger bar and actually acquired our lunch, it was almost halfway through the first half. Not that we missed much during that time. Both teams seemed evenly matched with Leamington just shading the possession but unable to make anything count. Daventry Town took advantage of their opponents inability to put in a decent cross, twice creating two chances on the counter attack, and converting both.
Perhaps this would be an ideal time to revert back to Mr Will's wise words at the beginning of the article; yes the weather was good, yes the cornish pasty filled a hole, but these examples of excellence surely pale into insignificance when you consider Leamington's sublime example of how not to defend. The first goal was a terrible one to concede, a low cross towards the near post, both defender and goalkeeper combined to make a complete hash of clearing the danger, and it was left to an onrushing Daventry player to tap in.
Though Leamington worked hard, they failed to deliver one decent cross into the box, too often struggling in the final third to create a decent chance, and it was the collapse of yet another attack that Daventry were able to capitalise on, within seconds finishing off at the other end with a tidy finish from about 10 yards out. All this before half time, and I couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for Leamington, who had had more than their lions share of possession. However, from 2-0 down it was always going to be a battle and so it proved, though not for the want of trying. I feel the Brakes deserve credit for their courageous fightback in the second half, and they certainly finished the game the stronger of the two sides. I was also quite pleased when they managed to gain some reward for their hard work, a penalty in the last minute of the game.
However, the tie belonged to Daventry, who provided a superb example of counter attacking football to win the match, and both me and Poosh agreed that the best team had won.
And so we have come to the end of yet another FA Cup weekend, so far Boldmere have graced themselves, Leamington have provided a short distraction, but now my attention turns to Daventry Town FC and I await the draw on Monday with a keen anticipation.....
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