Saturday 17th January 2015
Fourth Round Proper
Stanway Rovers v Saffron Walden Town
The Hawthorns
Colchester
CO3 0PG
K.O. 3.00pm
Half time 0-0
Final score 1-0
1-0 Graig Hughes 90+3
mins
Admission £6
Programme £1 – A5 size, 20 pages not including the cover, 02
pages of adverts.
Miles travelled approximately 125
Attendance 575
There is no point pretending and you know me better than
to lie. I really do not want to be doing this anymore. I’ve had enough.
The FA Vase isn’t the FA Cup and I miss it.
I seem to be staggering from one personal disaster to
another. Jumping jobs was the right thing to do but I really have jumped from
the pan to the fire and I know it and for the first time in my life I’m
beginning to feel home sick.
In other news, Walsall have managed to get through to the
Johnstone’s Paint Trophy Northern Area Final, beating Preston away 0-2 in the 1st
leg, meaning we are 90 minutes from playing at Wembley for the first time in
our history. Instead of being up there, I’m stuck down here. The 2nd
leg is a genuine sell out. The whole town has gone tits up tonto over it and
I’m not a part of it. I do have a ticket for the game, but I don’t know how I’m
going to get there, if I can get there at all.
In a strange piece of football fluke today is Colchester
v Walsall.
So, when my alarm clock went off this morning at 06.00
and I looked out the window at a jet black clear sky pin pricked by stars and planets
and a heavy deep frost I just thought to myself. Why am I doing this…? Or words
to that effect.
I’d spent most of the last three days reading the Tweets
about the state of the pitch, there were no new Tweets and so, at 09.00 and
with my commitments completed, I made my way to Colchester.
After a quick bit of shopping in Colchester I arrived at
the ground just before noon where I was greeted by three things. Firstly, I was
shown where to park the car by a member of the Stanway staff who remembered me
from the last round and welcomed me to his club – nice touch that. Secondly, a
JCB was dragging steel I Beam across the car park flattening out what looked
like a bomb site in the vain hope of creating more car parking space for the
expected influx of fans – later on I discovered the bloke in the JCB was the
Chairman. Finally, I could smell the sea – and it took me ages to figure out
why.
The said member of the Stanway staff invited me to have
look inside the ground and take as much time as I needed. Never one to turn
down an offer I was up off and running around an empty ground. I stepped
through the turnstile WOW! I’m not exactly sure what I was expecting but this
wasn’t it. The ground had the best of everything and the worst of everything
with some proper bonkers things in between.
As with all the clubs I’ve been to, there is a lot of
love, time and effort put into this club and this ground. It is so instantly
obvious. From the moment I walked through the door I could tell something was
going on, I could feel it, yes I know that sounds daft, but I got the feeling
that momentum was building. Does that make any sense?
The pitch looked in great condition. I was expecting the
worst after reading all the Tweets. It was nowhere near flat, but it’s wasn’t
bumpy, it was well rolled as were the hills it was laid on… The goal mouths
were taped off and looked very sticky, like huge puddles of brown phlegm in a
beautiful sea of green grass.
The snow tried it hardest to fall, the wind tried to blow
the storm over as quickly as it could and as I walked around the ground taking
photos I suddenly realised I was in trouble. Stinging, my hands were stinging,
painfully stinging, I tried to do the thumb and four finger test, I just about
completed it. I tried not to panic. I knew it meant trouble. I struggled to put
my camera away. I struggled even more to put my gloves back on. I hadn’t
realised it was so cold, in fact it wasn’t, it was just the wind chill factor.
Club house, I need to get out of the wind and in the dry.
As I walked towards safety I saw someone on the pitch
taking photos, it was David Bauckham, who I’d met at Hoddesdon v Sawbridgeworth
in the First Round Qualifying. “Not wearing shorts today then…” He said as we
shivered in the cold. A brief chat and catch up and I was off.
As I made my way to the club house I meet another member
of the Stanway staff who was playing with a turnstile, turns out, it was from
Colchester United’s old ground and I was the first to use it, even if I was
going the other way.
Foot
plate to the new turnstile
Out into the now freshly levelled car park and I bump
into Kevin. Greetings done he asked if I’d been into the dressing rooms, “Not
yet”, I answered, so off on a guided tour of the dressing rooms it was. “It’s
warm in here”, I said, “Yeah, we left the heaters on all night”, he replied. We
chatted about the future plans for the club, the now usual, “It won’t go in the
blog”, and we continued, but I was so cold I couldn’t think straight. I tried
to ask intelligent questions but I didn’t. Eventually Kevin pointed me in the
direction of the Board Room and a cup of tea. If he’d have been a girl I’d have
kissed him.
The Board Room staff feel over themselves in making me
welcome and getting me a lovely hot cup of tea. I staggered into the main room
and found a seat next to a radiator, but not to close, gently does it.
I tried to take notes on the events so far, but I could
barely grip my pen. Feeling pretty silly and very sorry for myself I just sat
there watching the room slowly fill up. There was talk of Saffron bringing 300
fans.
I popped back to the car to drop off my programme and
badges, the car park was now filling nicely, 4 coaches had arrived, one in the
car park and three parked in the street such was the demand on the space.
Stanway staff were out in force and doing their best in welcoming anyone in
range while marshalling every available space.
Once back in the main room and with another cup of tea
from the Board Room I continued to watch the events of the day. By now I could
grip my pen and I took as many notes as I could while chatting to anyone that
came my way.
Stanway staff were still running all over the car park while
others were doing the meet and greet thing in the main room and when I mean
staff, I mean Board Room and Committee level staff. Peter promised to send me a
FA Vase badge. Waves of Saffron fans piled into the main room and headed for
the bar. I saw lads walking past arms filled with cans of beer. No problems,
they just stood outside chatting, drinking, smoking, and just how good was it
to smell cigar smoke at a football match… (and I’m a militant nonsmoker). Kids
had photos taken holding their replica FA Vase’s. Shares in face paint went
through the roof. Stories were told. Past adventures relived. Dreams shared. All
I could think was, this could have been St Margaretsbury.
Before I knew it, it was 14.45 and you’ve got to love
that second turnstile, it opens right behind the goal. Just inside were another
two members of staff, one selling raffle tickets, and one selling merchandise.
The pitch looked a lot better for an extra three hours of
wind and sun shine.
I joined the half a dozen proud parents at the tunnel
waiting to take photos of their kids who were mascots for the day before
rushing up to the half way line for the hand shake. It was then that I realised
just how many people had bothered to turn up.
The sky was a dazzling bright blue. The air was thin,
crisp, clear, and cold. I took my place behind the goal on the top of the hill
at least I’d be in the sun and do you know something, I watched a really good
game of football unfold before my eyes.
Within 60 seconds Stanway had a half chance which the
keeper smothered.
Both teams cancelled each other out, but not in a negative
way. It was open, following, not really end to end more of a classic battle of
middle field with both set of defence’s doing their jobs while releasing
attacks as soon as they could.
Personally, I thought Stanway were having the better of
it and just as I was starting to think it was going to be one way traffic, Saffron
went down the right, delivered a wonderful cross which was met by a bullet of a
header, the Stanway keeper pulled off a great stop, more a case of it hitting
him rather than him saving it, but credit where its due, he still had to be in
the right place to have any chance of stopping/saving it.
Also, there was no play acting. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
Tackle after tackle. I’ll have some of this thank you very much. Once in a while
I would wince and they would just get up and get on with it. I don’t know who
the big fat fella up front for Stanway was, but he jumped up and in on a
Saffron defender clearing his lines in his own box, if he’d have connected, it
would have snapped the Saffron player in two. The even bigger centre half from
Saffron just shouted at him, something along the lines of, “that’s a really
naughty thing to do…” or words to that effect, no really he did, no swearing,
just more along the lines of, “that’s jolly bad form…” The Ref just had a quiet
word and the game continued.
At one point Saffron won a corner. In the same attack the
ball came back up this end where Stanway also won a corner. Over it came.
Everyone went up for it. The Ref (praise the Lord for miracles) didn’t overly
protect the keeper, who in the stampede, was forced to fumble the ball which
fell at his feet, and at everyone else’s feet for that matter, the keeper tried
his best to smoother it, an attacker tried his best to back heel it into the
net. It was scrambled away only to be fired back in again where it clipped the
post and went out for a goal kick. Where the hell are BBC Sport when you need
them? This is the sort of game that should be on TV.
Then on 30 minutes Stanway won a free kick on the edge of
the box and centre. The keeper put five players to his left hand post over
lapping it. He left a massive gap in the centre so he could see the ball and
put other players to his right hand post watching a few attackers.
Keeper, “Five there, don’t move”, “Keep the gap clear”,
“Don’t move from there”.
Defender, “What if he stands in the gap?” (meaning an
attacker).
Keeper, “Block him”.
The attacker joined the end of the wall. The defender
promptly blocked him. The attacker moved out of the wall. The defender followed
him. This was brilliant stuff. A genuine pleasure to hear the thinking of a
keeper.
A right footed free kick was floated over the wall, the
ball started to bend, the keeper started to dive, the ball started to dip, the
keeper missed it, the ball continued to dip, the ball slapped the bar with a
thwack which left the whole of the goal and the fence I was leaning on shaking,
the ball bounced up and out and was scrambled away. Worth the admission fee alone.
The free kick seemed to give Saffron a lift and they up
their game a little bit more. This really was turning into a good old fashioned
cup tie. There was a big difference in the quality of the play from the
previous rounds and I was loving it.
At one point Saffron found themselves with an open goal,
even if the ball was 40+ yards out, but by the time they realised it, it was
too late.
The Sun was starting to set. The shadows grew. The temp
was falling rapidly and the Ref went and blew for half time. Where the hell did
that go? Someone phone the Police quick. I’ve been robbed of 45 minutes.
I suddenly realised I was at the wrong end of the pitch.
As I made my way around to the other end and the club house I realised I
witnessed a really great performance from the Saffron keeper and I made a
decision to stay behind his goal in the second half.
Into the bar. NO TV…!!! WTF!? Out with the phone. Colchester
0 Walsall 1 COME ON!
Oh God that’s cold. Who left the fridge door open? What
clown decided to have winter when the nights are at their longest? I demand a
rethink.
The second half kicked off. Stanway won a free kick within
60 seconds and the keeper pulled off another great save. I see a MOTM appearing
from the cold night air.
The second half continued where the first had left off. A
really good game of football.
Someone next to me asked his mate if it was extra time and
penalties. Did they know something I didn’t? Once I’d overheard those immortal
lines I couldn’t get them out of my head. A replay? Oh no, not a replay. Please
not a replay. Extra time would be bad enough, but a replay.
It was beginning to look like a set up. Neither team
seemed to want to score. Both keepers were more than capable of stopping
anything coming their way with the Saffron keeper being the busier of the two
and he was, by now, easily becoming MOTM.
Just as I was starting to think that no one would score,
Stanway went and did. A lovely floated cross to the far post where the ball
bounced up, two Stanway players went up for it and one of them managed to steer
the ball into the very top corner. The place erupted. Stanway went off to
celebrate. I breathed a sigh of relief and the Ref blew for off side. GUTTED!
Then they were robbed of a blatant penalty. I asked the
cameraman next to me if he’s got it. He had and showed me.
This really wasn’t looking good. As good a game as it was
and it was, it wasn’t enough to stop me thinking of extra time or a replay.
Neither was it enough to take my mind off the cold. It was getting painfully
cold.
Someone on the far side decided to set fire to something
or maybe they thought they were watching AC Milan and so setting off a flare
would be a good thing to do. Either way, a lot of smoke was coming from that
part of the crowd and for 2 to 3 minutes I stopped thinking about the cold.
“Today’s attendance is 575”, said someone over the PA.
WOW!
Then it happened. We were all saved, unlike the ball.
Most of us were looking at our watches or phones, while all of that was
happening, the ball was crossed into the box from the Saffron right where it
was met by something like the Charge of The Light Brigade and like all good
front men know, you send the ball back from the direction it came and that’s
what happened. It was just like the Cruyff Turn, everyone was looking one way
while the ball went the other. Everyone looked at the Ref and THEN went ape
shit, well apart from Stanway who just ape shit, everyone in the ground knew it
was a goal, we just needed it confirmed.
I checked the time. I was so cold I couldn’t do the maths.
Was it 93 or 94 or 95 minutes? Surly it was game over.
I was wrong. The game restarted. Saffron nearly stuffed
it up by equalising THEN the Ref blew for full time. I almost ran on the pitch
and slapped him. GIT!
I cannot tell you how happy I was to hear the final
whistle. I was too cold and in too much pain to go through extra time and I
knew that I couldn’t get to the replay. Slowly and surely we made our way out
of the ground until someone noticed the keeper had gone down in the box.
Someone called for medical assistance, 10 minutes later the panic was over.
By a long way, for me, the Saffron keeper was MOTM. You
know I don’t go in for that type of thing unless it is truly called for and
this time it just screamed at me.
I bumped into David Bauckham after the match and while we
compared notes, photos and thoughts on the game we tried to find out the other
results, “St Austell have beaten Greenwich” he said, “Really? I’ve never been
to Cornwall…” I replied. He then started to bang on about the grounds in that
part of the world. Still not sure I’d want to go all that way for a game of
footy though.
The bar was rammed. Everyone was in there just getting on
with getting on. Drinks were flowing. Stories being told. Opinions offered. The
heating was on and so were the TV’s. Colchester 0 Walsall 2 RESULT!
I went back into the main room to find a radiator and a
cup of tea. As I plonked my things onto the table Kevin shouted over, “Would
you like some food?” “I’d love a coffee please”, I replied. “Get some coffee
later, come and get some food”, he insisted. So I did. As I ate and took notes
Kevin bought a coffee over. I just sat there, head spinning, smiling, floored,
humbled.
By 18.00 I was defrosting the car and I was on my way
home.
You know something, so what, so what if it’s not the FA
Cup, so what if it’s not the Cup Final, so what if this isn’t a Premiership
team, because you know something, it doesn’t matter, because I doubt if I’d
have met better people than I have today. I doubt if I’d have seen a better
game than I have today. And tomorrow, when I wake up and I feel as home sick as
I do today, it won’t matter so much, because I had today and I wouldn’t have
missed it for the world.
Long live the 06.00 alarm call.
View from the North Bank
View from the East Stand
View from the South Bank
View from the West Stand
JE SUIS CHARLIE
Noggin xx
