The FA Vase. Part 5.

Saturday 06^th December 2014

Third Round Proper

St Margaretsbury v Stanway Rovers

The Recreation Ground

Stansted Abbots

SG12 8EH

K.O. 3.00pm

Half time 0-1

Final score 0-2

1-0 Jake Clowsley  33 mins

2-0 Mark Maher  56 mins

Admission £8

Programme FREE with admission – A5 size, 22 pages not including the cover, 10 pages of adverts.

Miles travelled approximately 10

Attendance 88

And that’s another thing. When does the day actually start?

Those lovely people at Greenwich would have you believe that it’s at 00.00 (the Meridian Line actually goes through my kitchen – it’s never made me a cup of tea though…) but for me, today actually started at 22.30 Thursday 4^th December when my alarm clock went off. My shift started at 00.30 Friday 5^th and finished at 22.15 Friday 5^th. No. Really. It did. This is what happens when pen pushers get involved with route planning.

In a strange twist of football fate, one of my drops was in Kidderminster. This time last year I was in Kidderminster doing the FA Cup (Rd2 Kidderminster v Newport County) I remember when all of this was TV crews and rosettes, now it was empty, deserted, miserable, still I smiled like a loony once I’d realised the connection and as I stood on my tail lift in the cold I remembered the fun, the people and in my head I wished them all a peaceful Xmas and a happy new year.

St Margaretsbury FC… It’s not just for Christmas…

By the time I’d got home, stopped climbing the walls and wound down it was 03.00 Saturday 6^th. On with the khaki, out with the Elephant Gun and off to explore the dark distant corners of the bedroom in the hope of finding the greater lesser spotted king size bed with NASA memory foam mattress.

07.00 arrived four hours sooner than I needed it too. Into the kitchen to find that the Meridian Line still hadn’t made me a cup of tea or done the washing up. GUTTED!

In a strange twist of football fate, for Richard and Steve, today also started on Thursday. They had been watching the weather forecasts and had made the early decision that Friday into Saturday would mean that local conditions would offer everyone close to zero degrees and would give them a golden opportunity to do some good ground work.

Their plan was to get to the ground nice and early on Saturday and while the pitch was still hard, they would roll it, cut it and get it all marked out and set up and then let the thaw take its place in the events of the day. Steve and Richard arrived at the ground around 08.00 they whipped out with their wands and the football fairies began working their magic.

While Richard and Steve were busy waving their wands around I was busy jacking up on caffeine. The sky was a bright light blue. The air was clean, crisp. Christmas lights were blinking away on the houses in the road. That three legged cat was hopping across the street. Xmas songs blasted out of every TV advert. The radio offered me nothing better and unable to beat them I grabbed a Xmas CD and headed to the car.

I deliberately got to the ground late in the vain hope of not seeing a semi naked Club Secretary in the car park – it doesn’t seem that bad when it’s written like that…

In a strange twist of football fate, it was Richard who saw me first. We chatted, made plans and I battered him with lots of questions.

The answer to one of the questions I asked was “A Peacock”. Apparently that bird on the clubs badge is a Peacock. No, I can’t see it either. It’s from the Croft’s family crest. Now there’s a story.

“As if by magic, the shopkeeper appeared…” Steve stood there smiling like he knew something that I didn’t and he did too. He handed me a brown A4 envelope with “NOGGIN” written on it with a smiley face in the middle of the “O” and I laughed. “I’m in trouble now ain’t I?” I said to Richard as I opened the envelope.  I could not believe my eyes. I laughed even more. It was a ticket. An A4 sized ticket. If Carlsberg made football tickets…

The match officials arrived. I realised I was now running late. Richard and Steve went off to do their obligations for the day and I went off to take photos.

The pitch looked in great condition.

Back in the bar the beer was flowing, stories were being told, introductions made, promises made that what was said to me would not appear in the blog, defences dropped, truths wisped and the daftest story of the day had to be the officials who insisted that Stanway change their shirts because of a colour clash. Home team play in black and red striped shirts. Away team play in white shirts. I’m lead to believe that there is a flash of red on the shoulder of the away team shirt so they were forced to play in gold shirts instead… *SIGH*

Steve Barker, seeing double and guarding his Jack Wilshire shirt

Stanway Rovers rolled in on the back of a winning run of 4 out of 6 for the month of November WDWWWD and had already beaten Hertford Town and Sun Sports in the FA Vase both of whom are above St Margaretsbury in the league (6^th and 1^st respectively). While St Margaretsbury had enjoyed a winning run of 6 out of 7 for the month of November WDWWWWW.

In a strange twist of football fate, so far, the teams I’d followed had endured a run sequence of, win, lose, win, lose and win. Just what would today give us?

The photos and handshakes done the game was ready to start. Stanway kicked off and they game went straight into kick it and rush.

It wasn’t really long ball stuff but it was nowhere near pass it and move either. Just after 10 minutes the game started to settle down, but there still wasn’t much football being played.  The now usual positives that I’m getting used to. No play acting. No rolling around. No cheating.

I’m not sure where St Margaretsbury were, but they certainly weren’t here. What a waste. It was easily the biggest crowd I’ve seen there and this is what they are exposed to. All of that hard work from Richard and Steve and for what? It’s not just Richard and Steve either, there are far too many members of staff for me to mention that all “work” for free, after doing their normal every day jobs and this is how the team repay them and all of their efforts. If I’d have been the manager I’d have slapped them silly at half time. Don’t misread what I’m writing. If you lose you lose. If you’re beaten by a better team, you’re beaten by a better team. But the other team need a team to play against. I think most of the St Margaretsbury team were out Xmas shopping with their better half’s. Maybe next time their better half’s should be given a game.

What’s it like to see a crowd…

I’d had enough, time for Bovril, with St Margaretsbury not there then why should I bother to stay? Stanway weren’t really making them pay for their lack luster performance either, which depending on your point of view, or which team you follow, was either good or bad. There were a few chances but nothing to really write home about.

Then it happened, St Margaretsbury had a clear chance. One minute later they had a second chance. So, Stanway went up the other end and scored. A nothing ball was lumped into the box, there was a bit of a scramble, the ball landed at the feet of Clowsley who poked it in. It wasn’t pretty but it was a goal.

The Sun started to set. The shadows stretched across the pitch. The temperature started to drop. The game continued to plod towards half time. Gary walked passed, “Did you get your ticket?” He said as he rushed off to do his duties while laughing…

The game continued in the same vain up to half time and I can’t really speak for everyone else there but I don’t think that I was the only one wanting the Ref to blow early and put us out of our misery.

Thanks Ref. Off to the bar we all disappeared. FA Cup Rd2 Preston 1 Shrewsbury 0 GOOD! Shrewsbury dumped Walsall out the Cup in Rd1.

As we stood at the bar one of the Stanway fans said, “If we get a second goal I’m coming back in here…” Now there is someone that can speak for everyone.

Unfortunately the second half arrived. Fortunately so did St Margaretsbury. This was more like it. Suddenly we had a game on our hands. The arrival of St Margaretsbury sparked a response from Stanway who upped their game too. This was very quickly becoming a cracking game. Dare I say a good old fashioned cup tie?

Then it started. I’ve been a little overly positive about my observations of non-league football and the complete lack of cheating. It had to end somewhere didn’t it, so end today it did. The big fella up front for Stanway kept on falling over. Why? What was he hopping to gain? It was blatantly obvious that he’s spent most of London 2012 watching Tom Daley. There is a bloody big difference with jumping out the way of the incoming tackle so you don’t get hurt and diving. At one point he was flat out on the floor in the box. Dead. The Co-op Funeral Services were on the way to pick up the body while someone was on the phone to his next of kin to inform them of his untimely death.

 IT’S A MIRACLE!! He’s alive. After lying stationary for almost a whole minute he was up and running around like an excited child on Christmas morning. What a tit. Doesn’t he realise that the resurrection was at Easter and not Christmas? He can’t even cheat properly.

Personally I was starting to believe that it wasn’t going to be St Margaretsbury’s day.

GOAL!  I was right. Stanway delivered a high deep cross to the far post. In the scramble to get a head on the ball the keeper put a fist to it, the ball fell to the feet of Maher who neatly skipped into the box and placed a simple but effective shot past the keepers left. GAME OVER!

What the hell is that? From over the Eastern horizon came a bright orange glow. Slowly and surly, like a massive Satsuma, the Moon made an appearance in the night sky. While I was busy taking photos of it a girl behind me said, “Dad, look at The Sun…” I was so busy laughing I fell down the step.

One bright orange Moon

Because I was so busy taking photos of the Moon I missed what happened next, as did most people. An off the ball incident left the St Margaretsbury keeper sitting on his back side in the back of the net. Stanway were now down to ten men.

The game then slowly and surely slipped into what we’ve all become familiar with in the Premiership. Thankfully it didn’t completely get in the way of a good game of footy. By now the game was becoming end to end with a really good pace to the action. Both teams deserve credit. Both teams went looking for the goal. Both keepers kept the score at 0-2. I can’t say it was poor finishing because it wasn’t, it was really good goal keeping.

As the temperature on the pitch rose the air temperature fell like their centre forward…

To complicate St Margaretsbury’s problems they managed to get a player sent off through a combination of poor tackling and diving. Without question it was a stupid tackle to make. Without question the other player dived out of the way. Without question he was on the floor around 1.5 maybe 2 seconds before he remembered to pretend to be hurt. Suddenly he was rolling around like a wet fish in a landing net. The Ref ran over before he started to get chased by both set of players demanding that there side of the incident was the correct one.

Ten against ten. The game continued to crumble. The final whistle seemed too far away. I just wanted it to end. As I stood there in the cold I began to wonder where I would be going in the next round.

Thankfully the Ref put us out of our misery and everyone dived into the bar, ironically enough…

Preston 1 Shrewsbury 0 Ha! Ha! Ha!

As I stood at the bar taking notes, thinking about what I’d just seen, St Margaretsbury’s piss pour performance, all that hard work that had gone to waste, the diving and cheating. I realised that I was now playing on a sticky wicket. Do I tell the truth about what I’d witnessed? Do I dilute my point of view?

The Three Wise Men, Steve Barker, Gary Stock and Richard Palette

I spoke to a member of the Stanway staff. I offer him my problem. I spoke to Richard and Gary up in the board room and I offered them the same problem. To their credit, all three of them said, I must tell the truth. Have I diluted it? Not really. I haven’t banged on about it as much as I could have either. I’m not here to crucify anyone. I’m sure that there will be a few players that eventually have a sleepless night over their actions and performance.

All dreams of holding the cup are shattered

As I said I went up to the board room to grab hold of Richard to confirm the goal scorers, times and sending’s off. As we were chatting the match officials turned up for tea and cake.

Gary was still running around doing the corporate hospitality thing. Stanway’s staff were all down stairs taking full advantage of the food and the bar and that’s how it should be. For all of the faults that today’s game offered us all, once it was over it was over, I spy with my little eye one huge hippy love in… Long may it continue.

The Ref shows The Chairman how to wave a flag

As I sat in the board room listening to the match officials talking with Richard and Gary, I couldn’t help butting in and asking a few questions. It was brilliant stuff. Suddenly I found myself in a position to ask the Ref and his two Linesmen about the events of the game and find out why they made the calls that they had. I was fascinated by it all. To actually sit and listen to what they were thinking at the time of the said events was such a privilege. I could have sat there all night and listened to them. As stupid as this is going to read there is a TV shown in there somewhere. It was just like CSI Football. The forensic break down of the games incidents.

Rubbish

Suddenly it was 6.45pm and time to go home. So I did.

I felt cheated and I spent the rest of the evening in a pretty shell shocked state, finally staggering off to bed at 01.00 Sunday 7^th.

My final thoughts on the day go to Ed Taylor.

Get well soon mate. Love, hugs and big wet sloppy kisses xxx

View from the North Bank

View from the East Stand

View from the South Bank

View from the West Stand

Noggin xx

The FA Vase. Part 4.

Saturday 22^th November 2014

Second Round Proper

St Margaretsbury v Ipswich Wanderers

The Recreation Ground

Stansted Abbots

SG12 8EH

K.O. 3.00pm

Half time 2-0

Final score 3-0

1-0 Brett O’Connor  21 mins

2-0 Ed Horey  45+2 mins

3-0 James Buckle (OG)  69 mins

Admission £8

Programme FREE with admission – A5 size, 22 pages not including the cover, 10 pages of adverts.

Miles travelled approximately 10

Attendance 55

destiny noun (pl destinies)

1 the events that will happen to a person or thing in the future: we share a common destiny.

2 the power believed to control the future; fate.

ORIGIN from Latin destinare ‘make firm, establish’.

Source, Compact Oxford English Dictionary – 2008 edition.

I greeted Sunday 2^nd November with a hangover from hell, not through alcohol but lack of sleep and dehydration. I staggered towards my porn machine and started to write the blog. Before I had a chance to hit “Publish” I deleted the line, I don’t suppose there’s any chance of St Margaretsbury in the next round…?  I mean really, who would believe me…

Monday 3^rd November, St Margaretsbury v Ipswich Wanderers. Ha! Ha! Ha! You’ve got to be kidding me – or words to that effect. I double checked the FA website. Had I read that right? I had. Later on that evening I sent an E Mail to Gary and Richard at St Margaretsbury, it simply read,

Gary, Richard,

HELLO!

I'm at it again.

http://nogginwalsall.blogspot.co.uk/

See you in two weeks.

Noggin xx

Richard replied,

What a coincidence! Great to hear from you mate… Put your drinking boots on… As usual for big matches, you're my guest and I shall invite dear old Norman along too!

Well that’s sorted then, well, apart from the fact I’ll be a Wanderer for the day.

Hold on, “drinking boots”? OH NO! Not Beer Pong again…

I greeted Saturday 22^nd November with a hangover from Famous Grouse. I looked out of the window, dull, grey, miserable, very low cloud, living between two rivers doesn’t help things either. I checked the weather forecast and it wasn’t good. It was supposed to rain all day. I dived on the St Margaretsbury web site. KEEP CALM and GAME ON!

Hot sweet milky tea, then another, then another and another… On goes the TV and I start to watch the GP qualifying from Abu Dhabi. As if by magic, the familiar sound of karts from Rye House Kart Circuit drifts across the river cutting through the mist. Give it 10 years and those kart racers will be doing what Hamilton and Rosberg are doing, fighting for the F1 World Championship. For all the people that don’t know, Rye House Kart Circuit is where Hamilton learnt his craft.

I left home just after noon, 4.7 miles and eleven minutes later I’m parking up. It was surprisingly warm considering the weather, it started to spit and out of the corner of my eye I saw Richard in the car park semi naked and in the middle of getting changed and I started to cough, splutter and choke… PUT IT AWAY!  

Here’s something I hadn’t thought about, it’s all good and very well for me to treat St Margaretsbury as my club, but as I walked off to take photos of the ground I suddenly thought… erm… erm… erm… What do I take photos of that I haven’t already taken? I suddenly realised the problem that comes from familiarity.

The Disappearance of Elvis the Mouse – Is the mystery solved?

As I walked towards the pitch I started to bump into St Margaretsbury staff who had already been here for three hours or more. I was invited down to the pitch, which looked great. We’d had a stupid amount of rain over the last few days and it was in fantastic condition.

The photos done I slipped and slithered towards the club house, up jumps Steve Barker, “NOGGIN! I’ve got a ticket for you, Gary made it and I printed it”, he said, has he handed me the ticket. I laughed like a drain and then I read it properly and laughed even more. It’s good to be back.

I finally found myself at the bar ordering a cup of tea just in time to turn around and see Norman Ingram walk through the door. I kid you not. Well Richard did warn me. Let the banter begin.

As we stood in the bar chatting, someone shouted across the room, “The team coach is here”, Steve and Richard were up and out like a shot. Off the coach they spill and into the bar Ipswich pile. Tim spots me and points me the direction of someone I can get badges from. Surprisingly for me a lot of the Ipswich staff and their supporters come over to me and say hello.

To add to the events of the day St Margaretsbury were going to hold a quiz night to raise funds for the football club, some of the Ipswich staff said to me that if they’d have known they would have entered a team and travelled home later on that night. As it was a lot of them put their hands into their pockets and entered the raffles and cards, which I thought was a lovely touch. They didn’t have to do it, but they were more than happy to help raise funds for a different club, a club that they were about to play in the FA Vase. I was starting to remember why I enjoyed my time with them two weeks ago. Ipswich Wanderers, Suffolk’s answer to St Margaretsbury?

Funniest story of the day? I promise this is true. Someone from IWFC ran into the bar and interrupted our conversation, “Where can I get water from?” He asked very excitedly while waving bottles at us. “The tap”, replied Richard, completely straight faced. I could have filled his bottles with what dribbled out of me. Clean pants please…

While all of that was going I found myself back at the bar ordering a pint of IPA – that’s Individually Picked Asian tea to you – as I stood there shooting up on sugar and caffeine I thought to myself. I know him, and I did, it was Ali, one of my old customers from Newmarket. He’s actually Egyptian and no, I haven’t seen his Mummy… Ali is a Level 4 Referee but today he would be running the line and we spent a good 15 to 20 minutes just catching up.

Before I knew it more VIP’s had arrived, not only was Norman here representing the Spartan South Midlands League but up waltzed Dave Henman, both of whom are members of the Management Committee if that wasn’t enough Brian Smith The President of the Spartan South Midlands League also showed up.

The weather was trying to turn for the worse. It tried so hard to rain.

All too soon it was time for the football. What do mean you’d forgotten… More of that damn silly hand shake nonsense.  I know I mention it every time, but it just bugs me. Actually, as I’ve just written that I’ve changed my mind. It’s not at this level that it bugs me - even though I still think it’s a waste of time – it’s at the professional level that it bugs me. There is no respect at the professional level. Cheats. Liars. The game is full of them. At this level, it’s genuine, honest and truthful.

The Ref takes a swing at Ed

Ed takes fancy to Ali – get a room…

The Ref tells the linesman that it doesn’t matter if he does look like Dave Whelan you can’t use the word C****

Thankfully the game was a lot better than the last time I saw Ipswich. Probably due to the pitch. Probably due to the opposition. Either way I wasn’t too bothered, a really good old fashion game of footy. Not kick it a rush. Just good old fashioned getting stuck in.

Both teams tried to take hold of the game. Both failed. There was really nothing in it. A few chances were created but nothing of any real quality until the 20^th minute when the ball fell to the feet of Brett O’Connor just inside the box from a cross from the left. He controlled it, picked his spot and slammed his shot hard, straight and low past the keeper.

The goal seemed to settle both teams down. The game was certainly in St Margaretsbury’s favour but they weren’t having all of the game and it certainly wasn’t one way traffic. Ipswich went close to scoring on a few occasions one of them coming from a very well worked break. Literally one end to the other with only a class save from the keeper stopping the score being levelled.

The supporters were having fun too. One of the old timers from the Bury’ shouted “Come on 10 get fit…” at the Ipswich striker, not the greatest ever heckle and in response the Ipswich support started to try to get a chat going, only to find the same old timer shouting, “Could you be quiet please… we’re trying to sleep…” I was so busy laughing I could hardly take notes.

Half time threatened to break up the fun but not before Ipswich gave away a cheap free kick, about 2 to 3 yards from the touch line and 18 yards - ish from the by line. Over came the cross and just like a shoal of fish all the players moved in one direction towards the ball, Ed Horey managed to out jump all the other fish and put the ball in the net.

After the game I found out that the goal was officially recorded as 45+2 and within seconds of the game kicking off it was half time.

By the time I’d got to the bar I’d missed the half time scores so I had to wait for it scroll across the bottom of the screen. Fleetwood 0 Walsall 1 REALLY!?

Upstairs to the Board Room for tea and cake and it was lemon drizzle cake too. Not only did Richard send me an E Mail informing me I was his guest, not only did Gary and Steve make me the ticket but Richard was most insistent that I should go up to the Board Room at half time and full time for refreshments. By the time I’d stopped stuffing my face I just about caught the start of the second half.

While I was in the Board Room I grab the said member of the Ipswich staff and asked about buying two pin badges. “They are £2.50 each, but I don’t have any with me”, he said, before removing his own badge and then literally grabbing hold of another member of staff and removing his badge… He didn’t ask he just removed the badge and the deal was done… and you think I’m joking. 

The second half continued where the first had left off, just a really good game of footy. Personally I don’t think St Margaretsbury were in any real danger of losing while Ipswich were in no real danger of winning the game, as daft as it probably reads, but while the score was at 2-0 there was still that chance of a goal from Ipswich, which as well all know, would change the dynamics of the game.

St Margaretsbury continued to press missing an absolute sitter around 55 mins by heading the ball over the bar, it was that classic case of it would have been easier to score, but that was put right on 69 mins when constant  but subtle pressure from St Margaretsbury lead to a forced own goal from James Buckle. To be fair to James, if he hadn’t have scored then someone else would have. A lovely floated ball in towards the far post lead to a rush on goal and in the confusion Ipswich found themselves looking down the barrel at 3-0.

Surprisingly the game moved towards 90 minutes sooner than later, which is always the sign of a good game. Talking of a good game, the Ref and Linesmen had a really good game too. OK, it was an easy game the ref but, it’s all relative, if anyone of them had stuffed up a decision then what was an easy game to ref suddenly wouldn’t have been, so lets give credit where credit is due…

I blinked. The Ref blew for full time and everyone went to the club house, except me. I went looking for that last photo, that last story, just goes to show how wrong you can be. I think I got the last photo but I hadn’t got the last story, not by a long way.

The weirdest story of the day? As soon as the Ref blew for full time the mist started to roll in from the river. It was just like Top Of The Pops or one of those Hammer House horror films, it just started to crawl across the pitch like a living breathing animal slowly and surely enveloping anything in its path. After 10 minutes there was no sign of Legs & Co and let’s be honest what are the odds of me being ravaged by a Virgin Lesbian Vampire… knowing my luck I’d get Boris Bleedin’ Karloff…

Eventually I found my way back to the club house. Walsall lost 3-1 someone shouted at me as I moved towards the TV… *SIGH* I stood and I waited for the results to roll around. Fleetwood 0 Walsall 1 RESULT! Top Banana… We are the first team to win there in 9 months. We’ve always loved going to Highbury (Dear Gooners… See what I did there…?). HOLD ON! You said we’d lost… GIT!

Back up to the Board Room for more tea and cakes. It was rammed. Everyone was in good spirits. The match officials made their way up. Contact details swopped. I went off to find Richard to get the goal scorers and times confirmed.

Eventually I found him in the rear bar which was now his temporary office.

ME. “Can I get some information off you please?” I asked.

RP. “Of course you can. What do you need?” He replied.

ME. “Goal scorers and times please”, quickly taking notes, before asking, “And what was the attendance?”

RP. “55”

ME. “Will you break even?” I asked hoping for a positive answer.

RP. “Far from it…“ He started to trail off.

ME. “Really? I won’t put it in the blog”, I said.

RP. “OH NO! Please do”. He said while still typing away on his porn machine.

ME. “So I can go for it, I can let people know the truth about running a football club at this level?” I persisted.  

RP. “You have my permission.” He replied.

So, there it is. The final story of the day. The truth. The reality of running a football at this level. At the start of play both teams were still in with a chance of getting one step closer to appearing in a Wembley final. Now there was only one, St Margaretsbury. St Margaretsbury are in the last 64. They are six games from Wembley including a two legged Semi Final. And yet both teams today have made a financial loss.

There’s your story. Gary, Richard, Steve and far too many other members of staff to mention, do a normal every day job just like you and me. They do 40, 50, 60 hours a week just like you and me and THEN they do this. They work another hand full of hours every day, either at the club or from home. Then there’s match days. EIGHT? TEN? TWELVE HOURS? All unpaid. I bet no one even says thank you.

I banged about this last year on my FA Cup trail. I didn’t know. I’d never thought about it, or them. The football fairies that sprinkle their local non-league football club with fairy dust and make it happen. As if by magic. Well it’s not magic. IT’S A MIRICLE!!!

Where ever you are when reading this, your local non-league football club is looked after by your very own football fairies. So next time little Johnny guilt trips you into buying this seasons new Premiership team shirt for £50 before turning himself into Merchandise Mike, just stop for a second and think about this.

Yes you could spend £50 on a shirt, or you could take yourself and little Johnny down to your local non-league team and watch a game of football, played in the right spirit. With players that don’t spit, or swear at the officials or each other for that matter, that don’t roll around on the floor like they’ve been shot every time they get tackled, that play football to a very high standard and play it properly. And you know something, that £50 that you could spend on a Premiership shirt, well you could spend £10 or £20 down your local non-league team and IT WOULD ACTUALLY MAKE A DIFFERENCE!

You never know, little Johnny might end up playing in one of the many kids teams that most non-league clubs have, there’s plenty of girls teams too.

It’s not just a non-league football club. It’s YOUR non-league football club.

Dude, Where’s My Horse? While I was up my ivory tower some rotter has robbed my horse.

As I was writing that Lewis Hamilton has just become the 2014 F1 World Champion and I promise I can still hear karts going around that track on the other side of the river.

So, where was I? I spent the next hour or so listening to stories that if I put on here you wouldn’t believe. St Margaretsbury staff. Ipswich Wanderers staff. The Officials. The League Representatives. They all told their stories. They were all exactly the same and yet completely different because they were personal to them and their clubs and committees.  

The game is alive and well and living in a community near you. I still think that there is something very wrong at the pointy end of the pyramid, but at its base, at its grass roots, its fine, it’s more than fine. Its future’s bright and growing brighter…

The evening moved towards the night. The fund raising quiz grew closer and I disappeared into the night mist… Here Vampy Vampy Vampy…

I went home via Sainsbury’s and bought a handful of Lottery tickets. I didn’t win, so St Margaretsbury don’t get the cash. I’ll just have to spend more money at the bar next time I go. The sacrifices I make…

View from the North Bank

View from the East Stand

View from the South Bank

View from the West Stand

Noggin xx



The FA Vase. Part 3.

Saturday 01^th November 2014

First Round Proper

Ipswich Wanderers v Cockfosters

SEH Sports Ground

Ipswich

IP4 3NR

K.O. 3.00pm

Half time 1-0

Final score 1-0

1-0 Craig Jennings  13 mins

Admission £6

Programme £1 – A5 size, 12 pages not including the cover, 06 pages of adverts.

Miles travelled approximately 470

Attendance 101

In hindsight, listening to War of The Worlds as I drove through the unlit roads of Cumbria and into North Yorkshire as I headed towards the A1 may have been a mistake, but, as usual, I’m jumping ahead of myself.

Today really started yesterday at 5am, once we were over the shock of a 5am alarm clock and I’d had an unhealthy amount of coffee we were on our way to Cumbria. Anna had been invited to a Halloween party which was being thrown by one of her school friends, so off to Cumbria two days early it was.

The party solved a problem, namely that Anna hates football, which meant that I didn’t have the conflict of finding ways to entertain her or simply not doing to game. The party did however throw up another problem, namely that I would find myself in Cumbria on the morning of the game and not in Hertfordshire. Sutton United in the replay anyone…?


http://nogginwalsall.blogspot.co.uk/2013/11/the-fa-cup-part-10.html

Halloween came and went. The weather was un-seasonally warm, over 20 degrees with some parts hitting 23 degrees, this is what happens when you open the gates of hell… it’s hardly rocket science…  Anna loved the party. Her Mum and husband (Sean) went out for the night, she has a two seater broom stick now. I house sat and watched Dr Who on the IPlayer and before I knew it the witching hour had passed.  

By 01.30 I was leaving Cumbria, Alex Lester was on Radio 2. You can take the boy out of Walsall but… mad as a fish in a box… on a bike… up a tree… If he’s all there then I know where there’s a town full of them…

Eventually the wilderness of Cumbria beat the science of radio and the signal dissolved into white noise. On goes War of The Worlds and I gamble that the cross country trek to the A1 is going to be quicker than the M6 - M1 - M25 - A10 although I really hadn’t planned for the effects of listening to War of The Worlds as I trekked to the A1. By the time I’d reached the A1 Carrie and her father had left their little red brick house and I needed new pants.

Later that day the dawn was a brilliant fiery red…

(See what I did there?).

By 08.30 I was home and brushing my teeth. Oh God why does it feel so good to brush your teeth. No really. Why does it feel so good? More coffee, before fuelling up the car with the lovely Jasmine, well I don’t put Jasmine in the car, I put fuel in the car, she just takes the money… *SIGH*

I set the Sat Nav and head off towards the dark side of Ipswich - I’m still yet to find the bright side… I dived onto the M25 at J25 and joined the car park. Witham Town in the replay anyone…?


http://nogginwalsall.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/the-fa-cup-part-7.html

My ETA started to climb. Eventually my ETA started to fall. The last time I’d been to this side of Ipswich I’d caught one of my customers trying to rob my truck, or the products on it. I kept my job. I wonder where they are now. By 12.25 I was parking on a massive empty gravel car park.

The now usual exploring of an empty football ground. I bumped into Tim and a few other members of staff who were putting the final touches to the day’s preparations. They tell me their story and I tell them mine. Tim hands me a programme as a gift, nice touch that. I’m invited to take as much time as I like in and around the ground and I’m off.

The ground is tired, but very well loved. The pitch looked very green and hilly, and I thought Suffolk was supposed to be flat. I like this ground. It has something. I’m not exactly sure what, but it has something.

I bought a cup of tea, £1.20 and it comes in a mug, just how cool is that and it’s made with tea bags and not that horrible powered vacuum packed stuff either.

A Reflex Ball

I watched the two teams going through there warm ups. I bump into Norman Ingram (again, I’m not sure who’s stalking who) and every now and again I over hear the words, “Cumbria” or “5am” and I’d glance up to see someone pointing in my direction.

Ipswich Wanderers are new to me and they play in a different league to Cockfosters so it’s hard to judge the two teams. Since their last FA Vase game they have lost 3 and won 2 and are 11^th in their league while Cockfosters have won 5 and drawn 1 and are 8^th in their league. I was lead to believe that the game had been built up and was to a cracker.

Just before KO I’m in the toilets doing what you do when you’re in the toilets when “Right Here, Right Now” by Fat Boy Slim blasts out of their PA. My mind instantly goes back to those league games against Man City at Maine Road when they were shit and had no fans and were in Division 3 and playing Walsall and finishing below us in the league. Admittedly Man City isn’t what I’m usually thinking of when I’m holding my Mini Me…

I take my place on the half way line for the team’s entrance and that daft hand shake nonsense, off goes Fat Boy Slim and on goes Status Quo’s “The Wanderer” and didn’t it just rock.

The coin was flipped. One last handshake. Just before the games kicked off someone shouted, “Wembley Awaits”. I guess you had to be there but it was funny.

The game kicked off and went straight into kick it and rush. Not one decent pass to be found. It was just like kids playing in the park, the only difference was that they were keeping their shape and not chasing the ball like a swarm of bees but it would have been no surprise to see them doing it.

Then one of the Cockfosters defenders decided it was time to do his best Ricky Villa impression, just inside the Ipswich half he went past one player, then two, then three and then four, before he lost his legs and the ball, Ipswich went up the other end, where Jennings took advantage of the space left by the out of position defender and with a cold calmness passed the ball with a right foot shot into the bottom left hand corner of the net from the edge of the box. Somewhere I heard David Coleman say, “One – Nil”.

That was pretty much as good as it got.

If three passes were strung together then I was looking the wrong way because I didn’t see them, pass, pass, give it away, pass, pass, give it away, pass, give it away, if I’d have known it going to be like this I’d have brought my “I Spy” book of Morse Code with me.

Both teams were creating chances more often than not with long balls and defence splitting passes. No need for midfield then. The long balls weren’t really working, while the defence splitting passes were wasted on attackers who frankly couldn’t attack a victim tied to a chair, in a subway, in the dark, with no police or CCTV while carrying a knife and a set of instructions on how to commit the perfect crime and get away with it.

Chance after chance went begging. Once in while one the keepers pulled off a half decent save while the rest of us were still laughing and talking about the previous misses which the ball boy was still trying to find. At one point there were at least four balls over the fences and the game was almost bought to stop because we were waiting that long for a ball.

As the first half moved slowly towards a distant half time bar and warm drink the Sun slowly draped shadows over the pitch. The temperature started to drop, this really would be my last game in shorts, until January anyway.

Fortunately half time did arrive and I dived into the bar, Notts County 1 Walsall 1 interesting…

The second half began and continued in the same way as the first half. Both teams tried. Both teams continued with the long ball and defence splitting passes. If either team had bothered to use their midfield they might have had more success and we’d have had a better game to watch.

The first half was pretty much a 50/50 affair. The second started to drift in the favour of Cockfosters.

The two lads up front for Ipswich (Myhill and Jennings) were doing their best, well apart from their finishing, while Francis looked confident and composed in defence, as far as I’m concerned their best player by far.

As with Ipswich, Cockfosters were using Ali and Blackburne up front as their single outlet. It was such a waste.

I tried to let the game wash over me instead of trying to remember and take notes, but it was the only thing keeping me awake.

Suddenly it was very cold.

The game really was becoming very open. Cockfosters went looking for the goal, here’s a clue, it’s those three white sticks with the net attached to the back. Chance after chance after chance just went begging. It was becoming a bit of a joke. I’m presuming that because this is on the internet that it’s going to be available for the rest of human history… HOLD ON! NO! They still haven’t scored… or hit the target…

Enough already, let’s cut to the chase. The game ended 1-0 and they could still be out there now and neither team would have scored. I guess we should be grateful that we saw such a well taken goal.

Before I forget, credit where credit is due. Towards the end of the game (Marks? Cockfosters) made a two footed “tackle”, he jumped in two footed from so far away he almost had to go to a travel agent to book a flight. In his defence, he did win the ball. In his defence, the Ipswich player in question did not react or roll around or play dead, he just got up and got on with it. The Ref called the player over and the Cockfosters Capt’, not even a yellow card. Calm actions from the Ipswich player and calm words from the Ref. RESULT! Worth the trip and admission fee itself.

At last the final whistle went and so did I, to the bar. I’m not sure what the hell was happening at Meadow Lane but eventually the final score came in, Notts County 1 Walsall 2 RESULT!

By now I’d had enough. I said my thanks and good byes and made my way home.

At last I reached Noggin Towers and in the dim coolness of my home I began to write my account of the day’s events before I sank into a restless haunted sleep.

(See what I did there…?).

View from the North Bank

View from the East Stand

View from the South Bank

View from the West Stand

Noggin xx