The FA Cup. Part 10.

Tuesday, 29^th October 2013

Fourth Round Qualifying Replay

Sutton United v Hemel Hempstead Town

 

 

The Borough Sports Ground

Sutton

SM1 2EY

K.O. 7.45pm (delayed to 8.05pm)

Half time 1-0

Final score 2-0

1-0 Ali Fuseini  12 mins

2-0 Graig Dundas  86 mins

Attendance 662

Miles travelled approximately 700

RRRRRIIIIINNNNNGGGGG!!!!! Went the alarm clock and 06.00 greeted me and my daughter in the only way an alarm clock going off at 06.00 can greet someone.

By 07.55 we were leaving to the sound of Quo’s, “Whatever you Want” on the radio. Has there ever been a more apt song?

Whatever you want, Whatever you like, Whatever you say, You pay your money, You take your choice, Whatever you need, Whatever you use, Whatever you win, Whatever you lose, You're showing off, You're showing out, You look for trouble, Turn around, give me a shout, I take it all, You squeeze me dry, And now today, You couldn't even say goodbye, I could take you home, On the midnight train again, I could make an offer you can't refuse…

I should point out that when I got to my daughters late on Saturday night, I asked her if she wanted a day out in London on Tuesday. Quick as a flash she asked if it meant going to watch football again, to which I said yes. She asked if we could go shopping in London, to which I said yes. So the deal was done. All I had to do was work out how to do it, get to London and back again that this…

After a quick bit of number crunching, we decided to best way to do the trip was to drive to Wolverhampton, dump the car, train to London Euston, tube to Wimbledon, train to West Sutton and repeat but the other way around, leaving London Euston at 23.30 arriving back in Cumbria at 06.30 on Wednesday.

Before you ask, the reason for driving then getting the train was so that I could at least get some sleep, even if was for only two hours.

So off down the M6 we went passing the USA Rugby League World Cup Team Coach on the way. Wolverhampton arrived and we tried to spend as little time there as necessary. The train left on time and I was asleep before New Street.

Once we got to London, we bought our Travel Cards and went off shopping and site seeing. It was a little weird being there as a tourist instead of just stepping out of my front door and finding London waiting there for me.

While we were shopping we went to The Freemasons Arms pub in Covent Garden. It’s not the original pub because that was across the street and has long since been knocked down, only to be replaced, at the time of writing, by a sweet shop (they know sweet FA…). But at least we made the effort to go.

By the time we got to Wimbledon it was dark and as for West Sutton, it has grass on the platform. No really it does, vast lawns of grass on the platform. That’s just showing off.

West Sutton and the football ground are separated by a fence and a walk of 500 metres or more. No really, the ground is on the side of one of the tracks but you have to walk all the way around to get to it. Bizarre.

As for the ground. Well, it was dark. I shall save my words for when I get to see it in daylight. Every ground that I’ve visited so far looked like it was on the up, this one didn’t. It had a history and didn’t it show. When I get there in daylight I’m going to have a proper rummage about.

We spoke to some of the staff and very helpful they were too. We were advised to go The Plough pub and who am I to argue… A quick trip to the Chinese next door and it was back to the ground.

By now it was cold, very cold. The ground is old, very old and open. It looks like an old running/dog/speedway track. A bit like Stamford Bridge but without the electric fence, which was a shame because the electric fence would have kept us all warm. You could have sent off a thermonuclear device and it still wouldn’t have brightened the place up.

Anyone into their football memorabilia should make the effort to go to Sutton Club Shop. It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen anything like that. It’s a very well stuffed shop and very well run by people who love their football. If you can imagine Steptoe and Son’s house, but for football, then you’re getting there. Truly a cave of football wonderment.

 

Then it was announced that the KO was being put back to 8pm because Hemel were stuck on the M25. I bumped into the Ref in the entrance to the tunnel, I asked if we were still on for an 8pm KO, “Well, it’s 7.59 now and they still aren’t here, it’s probably going to be a little bit later”, said the Ref.

A burst of life and a burst of red as a few Hemel players exploded from the tunnel like the Millennium Falcon from the Death Star and run to some hastily place cones behind the goal for a warm up. The Ref was having none of it and started to lead out Sutton. Hemel players ran towards the line up and shuck hands before taking their positions.

This was not a good start to a game and as far as I could tell, there was only me and my daughter there in red.

The game kicked off at 8.05pm-ish and moved on at a good pace. Chances at both ends. No atmosphere. No chanting from the home fans and still no One Direction.

The game started to unravel, within minutes of the KO a Hemel player pulled a hamstring and from a clearance by the keeper, Sutton took the lead from a deflected shot, or at least it looked deflected from where I was shivering.

We made our way behind the goal that Hemel were attacking and weren’t they attacking it. I bumped into some Hemel fans. Chance after chance. They must have given Sutton the shock of their lives. I counted five clear chances that for one reason or another, including hitting a Hemel player as it was goal bound, didn’t go in. Basically, all the things I’d got used to over the last few games.

Suddenly, One Direction arrived along with about 100 Hemel fans (but still no Caroline Flack…). They’d had their drum taken off them and their flag polls. Flags were draped over the fence and the corrugated iron fence at the back of the stand became an improvised drum.

BANG! BANG! BANG! The atmosphere had arrived and had changed for the better, because at least there is now an atmosphere. But the security were having none of it. Two members of security piled into the crowd like the US military and started attacking anyone and everyone, as long as they were innocent and were doing nothing. Hemel fans and One Direction were having none of it either and started to defend themselves and their band mates. What should have been a very simple thing to sort out by security quietly and calmly asking fans to please not bang on the corrugated fence turned into a very ugly situation by security acting all American. Sutton, if you’re reading this and I know that you are. Get this sorted before the next game. They and you won’t get away with it against a larger and more experienced crowd.

Half time arrived sooner than we’d expected. Plans had already been made to walk around to the stand on the side of the pitch and “take it”. It had housed Sutton fans who, if I’m allowed to be honest, had contributed nothing what so ever to the atmosphere of the game. Frankly I don’t know how Sutton players and staff put up with them, but, maybe it’s easy when you don’t know anyone is actually there.

By the time we’d staggered out of the club shop for the second time the second half had started. We joined One Direction in the freshly taken stand and continued where we’d left off from the first half in creating an atmosphere in a way that only One Direction can.

The second half was a strange affair. Hemel continued to take the game to Sutton or at least try to. Sutton did their best in going for the second goal and killing off the game. Hemel players were going down like flies, I’m guessing because of being stuck on the M25 for almost three hours and then having no warm up. While One Direction were busy doing what they do best. At one point a group of Sutton fans chanted “UNITED!” Well I say “fan(s)”, I presume it was more than one fan, but it was hard to tell. Really, that’s the best that they can do? We’re going to have to have a word…

Just before full time Sutton got the second goal which killed off the game. A Hemel player stumbled, on the edge of the box, on or over the ball, or a blade of grass, or simply lost the ability to stand on his feet because of fatigue. It was the cruellest of cruel blows.

The goal was greeted by the One Direction boys going proper potty. Singing. Dancing. You’d have thought it was the other way around. That Hemel had gone 0-2 up. Just where were the Sutton fans.

I suddenly realised that time was starting to work against us.

The Ref blew for full time. We made our way out of the ground. One Direction are still going at it. I fail in finding Tony or anyone else from Hemel’s staff (I’m secretly happy that it happened that way because I’m not sure I could have coped with the goodbyes) and we leave the ground.

We got to the train station just in time to not catch our train. As we waited for the next train I realised that we really might not make our train out of Euston and I began making plans for a taxi…

Then, at 22.08, while chatting to some Hemel fans and one Sutton fan, we heard One Direction, who were still at it. I smiled like a loony and listened as closely as I could. I’m so going to miss them. I’m going to miss everyone from Hemel, but those One Direction boys really are very special indeed. It’s at that point that Stuart Roy Clarke introduced himself. It’s at that point that I grovelled an apology, I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t recognised him, I’d only been watching his videos a few days earlier. Later he told me how he’d watched me listening to One Direction.

We all dive on the next train and part at Wimbledon but not before swopping contact details and telling tales of past adventures and dreams.

We dive off at Euston Square and run up the Euston Road just like the journalist from War of The Worlds. We got to Euston with literally seconds to spare and while trying to take a photo of the name plague on the side of the train the doors bleeped and started to close.

RESULT! A train full of Arsenal fans. I love meeting Arsenal fans. They look at my Walsall shirt. The banter starts. They’ve just lost to Chelsea in the Cup. The banter continues. YEAH! YEAH! Go check you’re smart phone, look up our head to head… and off they sulked… HA! HA! HA!

Wolverhampton, ALREADY!? Still, it looked a lot better in the dark. We left close to 02.30 and made our way north. The M6 was closed so we joined a long train of HGV’s working our way north via the A roads of Staffordshire before re-joining wherever the hell it was we re-joined it.

We finally got home at 06.30 on Wednesday.

Before I end this, I would just like to say THANK YOU to all of the players and staff from Hemel Hempstead Town FC who have made me feel so very welcome. When I started this FA Cup trail the only thing that I hadn’t given any thought to was the “goodbyes”. It had never entered my head. I’d never given it a first thought never mind a second one.

As I write/type this, it’s Saturday night, my daughter is playing computer games, The Big Bang Theory is on in the back ground and I’m almost in tears.


Just like with St Margaretsbury FC, every last one of you has made me feel part of your club, your family, and, I’m going to miss seeing you all every other weekend.

AND, just like St Margaretsbury’s Gary Stock and Richard Palette I want to express a very special thank you to Tony Conway, without you, this adventure would not have been as easy as you’ve made it. THANK YOU!

Finally, to One Direction,

You’re 01442

You’re 01442

You know you are

I know you are

You’re 01442…

 

AND DON’T YOU EVER FORGET IT!

“Let’s all do the lobster…”

 

Noggin xx

 

P.S. For anyone who doesn't know who Stuart Roy Clarke is here are two of his films.

 

Homes of Football

http://youtu.be/8zWUSHwyQFM

True football Colours

http://youtu.be/PnwmWk60HgI

 

 

http://www.hemelfc.com/videos/bt-sport--lifes-a-pitch-featuring-hemel-fc-46702.html
 

 

The FA Cup. Part 9.

Saturday, 26^th October 2013

Fourth Round Qualifying

Hemel Hempstead Town v Sutton United

Vauxhall Road

Hemel Hempstead

HP2 4HW

K.O. 3.00pm

Half time 2-3

Final score 3-3

1-0 Lewis Toomey  03 mins

1-1 Mitchell Nelson  23 mins

1-2 Graig Dundas  35 mins

1-3 Ali Fuseini  40 mins

2-3 Ben Mackey 45+1 mins

3-3 Ben Mackey  48 mins

Attendance 1455

Miles travelled approximately 30 (not including the 328 miles).

Hello. I so wanted to start this with a line about Hemel being only 90 minutes from the First Round etc etc etc… A little like Walsall’s infamous fanzine “90 Minutes from Europe”.

But, what’s the point in pretending? I'm writing this in the dark, in Cumbria, in a storm and I already know the result of the game and the Cup draw. It’s Sunday. It’s almost midnight and if I don’t go to bed soon I’m going to start trying to catch the spiders that I know aren’t really there or crawling the walls…

I got to Hemel stupidly early. I didn’t mean to. It’s just the way it worked out. As it turns out, it was a fortunate thing to do. The car park was already starting fill up. I parked in my now usual place and waited for everyone to arrive.

Remember when I first went to Hemel and mentioned the atmosphere being different? Well this time it was really different, but not in a good way. It felt heavy. Nervous. Laboured. Strained. It just wasn’t flowing. Does that make sense? Everyone I spoke to seemed, well, different. I tried to say the right things about being and staying positive etc… While everyone else wanted to tell me just how good Sutton are.

I did all of my now usual things, programmes, photos, before entering the ground. Some youth walks up to me and tells me how he’d read my blog. How he found it boring and how he stopped reading it and went back to bed. Ha! Ha! Ha! Everyone’s a critic.

I meet up with Hemel’s staff, Leon from BT Sports, Tony who tells me that he’s going to put the tickets in the post. More people make the effort to come over and say hello to me. Which was a fantastic ego trip and the kind words are very welcome. Thank you all.

But the vibe was wrong. Dull. Down. Nervous. There’s that word again. You couldn’t avoid it. It was like a thick fog.

Slowly the Kick Off limped into view. Not even One Direction could get things going. They tried, but they failed. It just wasn’t happening. It wasn’t looking good. This was beginning to look like a good hiding in the making.

I found my spot on the terrace behind the goal. Sutton won the toss and swopped ends. Now that’s a sign of fear. So Hemel are now kicking up the slope in the first half and were all at the wrong end. On mass everyone just walked around the pitch. It was like a scene from a wildlife programme, you know, vast plains of Africa, Wilder Beasts, mast migration etc... While everyone was making their way to the other ends of the pitch it happened. Lewis Toomey popped up on 3 minutes and poached a goal. ONE NIL! Vauxhall Road exploded. Sutton, if you are reading this, that is what happens when you try to load the dice.

The goal opened the game up. One Direction found their voice but lost it again. Hemel had a break away down Sutton’s left and instead of going down for a free kick a wonderful cross was delivered by Thorne where it was meet by Mackey and an open goal which he promptly missed. It would have been easier to score. In the blink of an eye Sutton were down the other end and were scoring a well placed header from a corner. Text book and completely predictable. The first and second goals for Sutton resulted from missed Hemel chances.

The crowd went quiet. I felt sorry for the players. This was a decent sized crowd. The players deserved better than this. The band wagon jumpers would go home wondering what all the fuss was about.

Sutton took control of the game. The crowd stayed quiet and by 40 minutes it was 1-3 with Fuseini hitting a 25 yard daisy cutter, I’m not sure how much the keeper saw but I had a great view from the other end.

Hemel, were not themselves – I’m trying to be polite here – but they were hoofing it, not all the time. When the hoofed it they lost it. When they got it down and played like I’ve seen them do over the last four games they simply took the game to Sutton. Every now and again Hemel showed just how good they are.

On the stroke of half time Hemel won a penalty. Up stepped Mackey who stuck the ball down low to the keepers left. The keeper got a strong hand to it and pushed the ball onto the post. The ball bounced kindly back towards Mackey who scored from the rebound. Suddenly the vibe changed.

The game restarted and went straight into half time.

As we made our way to the end where we all started from, the burger van caught fire. The first I knew about it was when the staff from the other burger van ran across the pitch and without doubt it was the fastest anyone had moved across that pitch all day… WHAT!? We all stood there watching CO2 gas being set off while everyone continued to queue and be served… and that’s how it should be, commitment from both sides…

All too soon the football interrupted the entertainment.

The One Direction boys had found their voice. The vibe had changed for the better. The nerves had gone.

Within 2 minutes of the second half Hemel had won a penalty with a reaction to a tackle that would make Tom Daley proud.

Ben Mackey then did his best Bing Crosby impression and slammed the ball straight down the middle. Vauxhall Road went proper potty. It was a complete game changer. The momentum had shifted. Hemel were on the front foot and kicking down the hill.

Without doubt the worse moment of the game was when a Sutton player took out a Hemel player with a vicious elbow to the face. He knew what he was doing, he knew he was going to be out paced so an elbow to the face it was. All he got was a yellow.

Weird how things even themselves out during a game.

The game moved on at a cracking pace. Either team could have won it. Both teams should have. Chances were missed at both ends, which made it much more exciting to watch, if that makes any sense.

Then it happened. Sutton piled forward, they entered the Hemel penalty area on the left, the ball bobbled up and hit the Hemel defenders arm has he spun around to find it, “HAND BALL!”, shouted everyone with a connection to Sutton, silence loomed out across the pitch from anyone with a connection to Hemel. The Ref pointed at the spot. The ball was placed. The ball was struck. The keeper went one way… and the ball followed him. Sutton put the re bound over the bar...

Weird how things even themselves out during a game.

I don’t know what made me do it, but I took out my phone and checked the time, 43 minutes glared back at me. Oh no, not again. Not another replay. Bloody hell. I’m in Cumbria next week. Suddenly the game stopped being fun. Suddenly I wanted a goal. I wasn’t bothered by whom. Just a goal. Yes I know it’s selfish, but I’m in Cumbria next week, do you have any idea how far that is…

A few minutes later and its Full Time. 3-3. *SIGH*

I stood on the terrace trying to work out how to get up to Cumbria, then down from Cumbria for the game and then back up to Cumbria for my daughters dental appointment on Wednesday.

The sun was setting on my dream. But then, it all depends which way you look at it…

As I drove north it gave me time to think about the replay on Tuesday and the FA, who were on the piss in Covent Garden. It was 150 years to the day since the rules were drawn up in a pub in Covent Garden. I wonder how many of them actually went to a game today before going off to pat themselves on the back, for something that someone else did 150 years ago…

At 10.30pm and after 328 miles, I arrived at my daughter’s house.

Noggin xx

The FA Cup. Part 8.

Saturday, 12^th October 2013

Third Round Qualifying

Hemel Hempstead Town v Dulwich Hamlet

Vauxhall Road

Hemel Hempstead

HP2 4HW

K.O. 3.00pm

Half time 1-1

Final score 3-1

0-1 Erhun Oztumer  23 mins

1-1 Ben Mackey  26 mins

2-1 Lewis Toomey  48 mins

3-1 Charlie Mpi  72 mins

Attendance 949

Miles travelled approximately 60

Nothing to do today except go and watch the best team in Europe play their 200^th FA Cup game against Dulwich Hamlet in the FA Cup Third Qualifying Round. To mark the event I dug out my Walsall FC rugby shirt, it seemed the right thing to do.

Jump in the car and I put the Sex Pistols in the CD player,

“March… March… March… March… March…

Doo-be… Doo-be… Doo-be… Doo-be… Doo-be… Do… Do… Do… Do… Do…

Cheap holiday in other peoples misery!

I don’t wanna a holiday in the sun

I wanna go to the new Belsen

I wanna see some history

So Hemel’s 200^th cup game, it is for me… “

I arrive at the ground, park the car, “Hello Noggin”, said someone I’ve never meet before, as I stepped from the car, “Hello mate, how are ya?” I replied. Well that was weird, I thought to myself.

I buy my programmes and watch the Ref park his car, how did I know he was the Ref, his number plate “**** REF”. The linesman said, “I hadn’t noticed the number plate”… *SIGH*

More of the usual photos before making my way into the ground. “Hello Noggin”, said someone else, while looking at my Walsall shirt, “I knew you weren’t Orient”, he continued. What I was about to learn, is that the Hemel programme editor, had lifted Part 6 of this blog thing and had printed the whole thing in their Redditch programme last Saturday, which is fine by me, what isn’t fine by me is that he wrote I was an Orient fan. He better start running…

Just as all of that was happening I bumped into BT Sport who were now filming Dave Boggins – Hemel Chairman, who was now making his way outside to help reverse the Dulwich Team Coach into the car park.

While chatting to BT Sport Tony rocks up in his civvies, I hardly recognised him. Introductions are made and then he tells me that he’s forgot my ticket. You just can’t get the staff can you… Ha! Ha! Ha!

Dulwich fans start to arrive in force, most comment on my Walsall shirt and then mention Arsenal in in the FA Cup in 1933. WOW!

Into the bar. I bump into Ian. “Noggin, I’ve got something for you, would you like a beer?” He said, “Erm.. yeah, OK, lager shandy please I’m driving” I replied. We found a table, he opened his ruck sack and then he handed me two items.

The first was book entitled “Journey To Wembley” by Brian James, who in the season 1976/77 did every round of the FA Cup starting with Hinckley Athletic v Tividale. The winners that year were Man Utd who beat Walsall at Old Trafford in Rd3 (1-0, Hill) in front of 48,870 fans.

The second was a programme from Arsenal v Walsall, FA Cup Rd5, 1977/78 (Arsenal 4 Walsall 1 – we have to let them win sometimes…) 43,736 watched us get battered. Inside the programme was a two page special on the 1933 FA Cup defeat to Walsall – the greatest cup shock ever – as it became known. It even gets mentioned in “Fever Pitch”.

“You can have them”, he said. Remember that Monty Python moment I mentioned at St Margaretsbury? What do you say, when “Thank you” isn’t enough? (There’s a song in their somewhere…). More drinking and chatting before we suddenly realise that it was 2.45pm.

I rushed out to the car put my book and programme in the boot and went back into the ground… HA! HA! HA! Really, can you imagine doing that in the later rounds?

I found myself by the tunnel as it was being pulled out. Why don’t Durex sponsor those tunnel things? Think about it. They start small. They expand. They are ribbed. They shrink and return to their normal size. Durex, if you’re reading this, YOU’RE MISSING A TRICK!

Anyone out there want to offer me a job in marketing or advertising?

While I was in the bar being floored by an imaginary big fish someone had decide to let in close to 1,000 fans. I made my way to my now usual place behind the goal where the One Direction boys were making one hell of a noise. The twelfth  man is alive and well. I wonder if they know how much of a difference they make. The terrace is rocking. Properly rocking. But where is Caroline Flack? *SIGH*

The game kicks off and Hemel are playing down the slope as usual. Why do they play down the slope in the first half? The now usual domination of the game by Hemel, with the now usual missing of chances, time and time again. Dulwich stand their ground and take the game to Hemel as much as Hemel take it to Dulwich.

On 23 mins Dulwich work a nice little break away and a delicate chip from Erhun Oztumer leaves the Hemel keeper stranded. Everyone watched as the ball landed in the bottom corner of the goal. A glassy finish. Well worth the admission price alone.

One Direction continue to rock the place and Hemel continue to attack, on 26 mins Ben Mackey scores and the game settles into more missed chances for both teams. This is easily the best team I’ve seen play against Hemel. All the games I’ve seen so far have been well played (apart from London Tigers – still a stupid name) but this was a step up. The next level. This might read a little bit daft, but, after watching England v Montenegro last night,  I know which one was is the better game and I know which one I’d rather pay money to see.

The following paragraph contains language that you and I use every day but you may find offensive. There you go, you have my permission, be offended… go smell yourselves…

One Direction are rocking the place and then the chant goes up “What the fucking hell is that, what the fucking hell is that?” Now, this isn’t an excuse for “F’ ing and blinding”, it’s a social comment. This wasn’t “Fuckin’”, it wasn’t “Fookin’”, it wasn’t “Fackin’”, it was “Fucking”. This is Hertfordshire. They don’t drop the “G” here. It made me laugh. It was just like hearing your little old granny swear. It continued for the rest of the game. Chanting in the Queen’s English (There’s an album in their somewhere…).

The One Direction boys remind me of Walsall fans. Very quick witted. Very funny and they make a lot of noise, but what was that chant… No lyrics, just drumming and la… la… la… la… and then one hell of a time change before, der… der… der… der… or was it the other way around, who’d have thought that One Direction were into Prog Rock.

Back to the football. Hemel, in the last three times I’ve seen them have shown a flaw in their armour. They create chances, lots of chances, an obscene amount of chances and then they promptly miss them, time and time and time again. The other team then goes up the other end and scores, before Hemel, finally stick it in the net. Eventually, Hemel will miss their chances, the other team will go up the other end and score, before Hemel, continue to miss their chances. Eventually Hemel are going to get beaten by their own missed chances. They won’t lose to a better team. They will beaten by themselves and we all know what happens when you beat yourself… you go blind… (Sorry I couldn’t resist… hahaha…).

Everybody blinked and half time arrived. Straight into the bar. Colchester 1 Walsall 0 *SIGH* No chance of a Bovril as the queue looked like an advert for “4Gee”. I dive into the club shop and get my hands on the Redditch programme… Orient fan indeed…

The second half started as I walked around the pitch to the other end, where the Hemel fans had de-camped after the Dulwich fans had moved to the end that were previously in. It’s just like the good old days, everyone swops ends, everyone is mixed in together and there’s a fantastic atmosphere, well, in our end anyway… hahaha… “Look, here comes the Walsall massive”, shouted someone as I found my spot.

Three minutes into the second half and Hemel score a goal that is so slick that Greenpeace were already on the phone bitching about it… One Direction were going at it like one night stand in an alley and the game moved on at a cracking pace.

Attack after attack arrived at both defences. The ref let the game flow, the linesmen played their part too, by not being too flag happy. This really was damn good stuff. The more Dulwich went looking for the equaliser then more Hemel passed straight through their weakened midfield and defence, time after time the Dulwich keeper keep them in the game, while the Hemel keeper got a proper good whacking when he rushed out to the edge of the box going one on one. He went down and stayed down but he let the game go on and didn’t wave for the game it to be stopped. I know where my man of the match would have gone.

The One Direction boys started a chant aimed at the Dulwich No. 6 “Lewis Gonsalves”, “Shit Dani Alves, you’re just a shit Dani Alves”… Lewis laughed out aloud and applauded the crowd, a few minutes later he made a stunning block, 100% guaranteed goal, which flew out for a corner.

This was just like Witham all over again. Dulwich had to go for it and they did and Hemel picked them off.

The game started to get a little disjointed as one or two substitutions were made, before it settled down again. The Hemel substitution paid off when Charlie Mpi put Hemel 3-1 up on 72 minutes. While Jerome Walker got a straight red for scything down a Hemel player a classic case of red mist.

Just before full time, the Man of The Match was announced, which went to Hemel’s Ben Mackey, who on hearing it went, yes and punched his fist in a “come on!” type style way. No, Mr Mackey, you are supposed to be humble in being awarded such an honour, it is a team game, 11 against 11, not 01 against 11, STILL, it was funny, VERY funny and it’s good to see that he cares and gives damn. I hope he bought the drinks (orange juice of coarse…) especially for his keeper.  

By now the Sun had set behind the stand and the air temperature started to drop. The air got damp and that familiar smell of damp earth started to arrive. I love that smell, it reminds me of midweek games, proper flood lights - instead of those stupid things that are bolted onto the edges of roofs making the grounds look like those Audi cars and their Chav Lights – as much as I like to watch football in warm dry weather, I love the cold winter games and that smell.

The Ref blew for full time and One Direction boys went proper potty. A full five minute after the game and they were still at it.

We know what we are

We know what we are

The best team in Europe

We know what we are…

Straight into the bar, Colchester 1 Walsall 1, 90+7 mins. At least I now know where Fergy was today. Seriously, 97 minutes?

I grabbed hold of the drummer from One Direction and asked about that chant, he told me about “Dale Cavese”, I’d never heard of it. *Hangs my head in shame*

Lots of chatting in the bar. Plans for the next round were being made. I really need a home draw at worse and an away draw up north at best, simply because I’m off to Cumbria straight after the next game to spend half term with my daughter.

Just after 8pm I finally staggered out of the bar. Sober. *SIGH*

Roll on Monday and the Cup draw…

Noggin xx

P.S. As a footnote once I got home I Googled two things.

The first was Walsall v Arsenal 1933 and this link was on the top of the list. The weird thing is that it carries a scan from the programme that Ian had given me earlier. Really, what are the odds?

http://angryofislington.com/2012/05/30/arsenal-v-walsall-1933-the-greatest-cup-upset-ever/

The second was Dale Cavese, the first link shows the history of “The Dale Song” and how it moved around the world http://youtu.be/87juYGYoLAU while the second is a Wiki link to the man and his song http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moliendo_Caf%C3%A9

Without doubt the best version of The Dale Song that I’ve heard is by One Direction. Someone should upload it to You Tube... Just a thought...

The FA Cup. Part 7.

Tuesday, 01^st October 2013

Second Round Qualifying Replay

Witham Town v Hemel Hempstead

 

Village Glass Stadium

Witham

CM8 1UN

K.O. 7.45pm

Half time 2-1

Final score 3-4

1-0 Jordan Parkes  05 mins

1-1 Tom Wraight  32 mins

2-1 Tom Wraight  42 mins

3-1 Lewis Godbold  51 mins

3-2 Lewis Toomey  84 mins

3-3 Ben Mackey  89 mins

3-4 David Pearce  90+2 mins

Attendance 156

Miles travelled approximately 95

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! 4am. Already? I was just in the middle of a dream… I was kissing Valentino by a crystal blue Italian stream… No. Hold on. That’s not right.

I’d got a plan. Instead of getting up at 3.30am, I was going to get up at 4am, a quick shower, into work for 5am and get going ASAP, 30 minutes saved at this end might just help out at that end.

I got into work. I’m not loaded. The minutes tick by at a frighteningly quick rate. Then when I was loaded, it was loaded drops, 4, 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 and an extra drop in Haverhill making it 11. It turns out that Benet Street, Cambridge was going to be closed from 10am, so they said that drop 4 needed to be first. The only problem with that is that drop 1 is in Trinity Street and the bollards go up, so it has to be first. Also drop 2 and 3 are in Benet Street so why weren’t they moved? This is what happens when some pen pusher in office over 200 miles away thinks that they know how to drive my truck around the tight bicycle infected streets of Cambridge.

In an act of complete genius, the company I work for decided that taking drop 1 off my truck while I was still at base was too simple. They would send a 7.5 ton vehicle up to Cambridge where the  driver and I would tranship drop 1 from my 26 ton vehicle to the 7.5 ton vehicle in the street, the street in question  being Benet Street, the one that’s closing at 10am. He would then try to get into Trinity Street before the bollards go up and stop him completing the delivery.

Still with me? Keeping up? It gets worse. To complicate things even more the driver’s seat in my truck was broken. Eventually it is fixed.

Finally, I’m ready to leave and I’m on way to Cambridge, a massive TWO hours late. Let’s go Sat Nav racing. The fates are kind. Green lights all the way. I dig my way onto the A10. The Sun was a brilliant bright orange. The pale white crescent Moon was melting away and so were the minutes. My ETA started to fall. 08.59 … 08.56 … 08.54 … with 08.47 the lowest it was going to reach.

I started to play with my route in my head. What could I do to finish the route, not just early, but finish it. This route can’t be completed because of the extra drop.  If I can’t complete the route I can’t get to Witham.

As I plodded off the M11 and into Cambridge I came up with a plan, it was a cunning plan, so cunning it would make Baldrick’s head spin, but then, so would a turnip. My cunning plan went straight out the window as I ran into all of the commuter traffic that was still trying to get into Cambridge. As it turns out, one of the biggest hotels in Cambridge was on fire leaving most of the city closed off. I glanced at my Sat Nav, 08.50 … 08.55 … 08.58 … *SIGH*

I started my deliveries in Benet Street. Up rocks Adam. We tranship drop 1. He has a massive 15 minutes to dig his way out and back in again before Trinity Street is closed. He completes the drop. Yes he is that good.

Just for the record, Benet Street never did get closed. They walk amongst us, you know that don’t you…

I’m still stupidly late. I have another brainwave. I phone Customer Services and I speak to the lovely ladies 200 miles away. We form a plan of attack. They phone me back. We’ve got a “Yes” from my remaining customers. By the time I get to my normal last drop I’m 30 minutes IN FRONT! Yes I am that good. But I’ve still got that extra drop in Haverhill.

That extra drop kills the route. I now know I can’t make the KO. I try not to panic. The M11 and A120 give me time to think. There are no cunning plans. There is nothing I can do. I will miss the KO. It now becomes a question of what time I get to Witham.

I leave work at 7pm. KO is 7.45pm. Work to Witham FC is 1 hour 10 minutes away. You do the maths. Let’s go Sat Nav racing. The Stranglers CD kicks in and I’m off. My ETA starts to fall, 20.10 … 20.07 … 20.05 … I’m never going to make 25 minutes vanish or am I…

I get on the M25 at J25 and promptly stop. All four lanes are stationary. I try not to look at my Sat Nav. On a positive, I know that once I’ve cleared the accident the M25 will be empty. Slowly, slowly, we start to edge forward. What used to be a sports car was now on the back of a low loader. The HGV Class 1 it had run into the back of was blinking away in the dark with a slightly dented idiot catcher, while the Armco barriers on the side on the M25 were destroyed, which must really piss the Highways Agency off because they had only finished putting them in last week. I love the way those Armco barriers absorb the energy of the impacts.

I arrived at Witham at 20.10 having a done a steady 77mph all the way… honest officer I did… the car park was rammed. Beyond rammed. Cars abandoned anywhere and everywhere. A bloke walking past me said, “I’m about to leave you can have my spot”, I thanked him, parked the car, got my stuff together and made my way in. Erm… where the hell is the entrance?

I asked the kid on the turnstile if they had any tickets. No they didn’t. I bumped into James and his Dad who were also trying to do the Cup trail. I was told that score was 0-1. As we were chatting Witham equalized. I spoke to a few familiar faces including Mick who’s filming the game as usual and I made my way around the ground taking the now usual photos.

I made my way to the refreshment place type thing and I asked for, “A Bovril please”. “What’s Bovril?” she asked. Welcome to Essex. “I’ll have a cup of tea then please” I said, slightly sulking. As I made my way to the corner Witham went 2-1 up and ran towards me to celebrate. Easy tiger easy, I know you’re happy to see me, but…

A few guys behind the goal had an I pad or whatever the hell they are called and were watching ITV1’s coverage of the European Corporate Whore game.

Half time arrived and I took advantage of an empty ground and continued to take photos. I bumped into David Boggins – Hemel’s chairman, I asked if he’d got a spare ticket, which he didn’t.

The second half started, by now I was leaning on the fence, near the half way line and I was having trouble focusing on the ball. I was so tired I just wanted to cry. I turned around to answer someone’s question and looked straight into the eyes of Tony Last – Witham’s Chairman, “Good to see you young man”, he said as we shock hands, “And you”, I replied, “I don’t suppose you’ve got a spare ticket have you?” I continued. “No, we don’t do tickets, but I did knock one of these up for you”, he said and he handed me a little one off guest pass/ticket. Ha! Ha! Ha! The spirit of St Margaretsbury continues. Brilliant stuff.

Witham then went 3-1 up with a very well taken free kick on 51 minutes. Well that’s interesting.

I tried to focus on the game. It was easier than trying to focus on the ball. Were they playing route one? Were they deliberately missing out the midfield? Had I got it wrong? Were Hemel going route one? That didn’t make sense. I need sleep. Anyone got a dimmer switch for those floodlights?

Hemel pressed forward, still looking to get something from the game. Witham hit them on the break time and time again. For the neutral, it was great stuff. As the game moved towards 90 minutes tactical substitutions were made. Witham should have played it safe, but they just went for it, 3-1 up, in the Cup, at home in the next round, 10 minutes to go and they are still going at it. The neutral in me is thinking that this is brilliant stuff while the footballer in me is thinking, stick it in the corner and wind down the clock.

Then it happened, again. Witham hit Hemel on the break, again. One box to the other. Lightning speed. Hemel were back tracking faster than a politician on a bad day. The ball was rolled straight across the six yard line and the advancing Witham player watched as it rolled pasted him. No one could believe it. Why didn’t he slide in? Maybe the ground was to cold and wet? POOFTA! I could have put it in with the end of my John Thomas. From that moment on they were doomed.

Hemel scored three goals in the remaining minutes, 84, 89 and 90+2. Mental scenes greeted the winner.

In the end I think it was a simple combination of Hemel being the fitter team and Witham refusing to run the clock down. Part of me admired Witham’s attitude while part of me wanted to slap them.

I bumped into Tony Last after the game. The look on his face said more than I can here. Heartbroken probably comes close.

I spoke to Tony and David about how they got involved in their respective clubs and why they still do it. Strangely both men said, “If my wife knew how much money I spend on this club…” Ha Ha Ha…

Tony said that I should go into the club and enjoy the hospitality, which I briefly did before making my way to the chippie and home.

A steady supply of Powerade and Jaffa Cakes kept me awake. The roads were empty. I made good time. My eyes were oozing goo. I got home, striped and crawled into bed. As my head hit the pillow I looked at my alarm clock, it read, 00 hours. 06 minutes. 00 seconds.

I had a small weep to myself.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! 5am. Already? I was just in the middle of a dream… I was still kissing Valentino by a crystal blue Italian stream… No. Hold on. That’s not right. I think I have gender issues…

Have I really only had 11 hours sleep since 8am on Monday morning…

Noggin xx

The FA Cup. Part 6.

Saturday, 28^th September 2013

Second Round Qualifying

Hemel Hempstead Town v Witham Town

 

Vauxhall Road

Hemel Hempstead

HP2 4HW

K.O. 3.00pm

Half time 1-1

Final score 1-1

1-0 David Pearce  10 mins

1-1 Kris Newby  45+1 mins

Attendance 425

Miles travelled approximately 60

What can I say? St Margaretsbury passed on the baton and Hemel Hempstead picked it up. More accurately, Tony Conway picked it up and didn’t he run with it. When I first contacted Hemel, it was Tony that replied, the bad news was that they weren’t going to sell tickets for the FA Cup it was going to be pay on the gate. By the time I’d got home on Friday night, there was a ticket waiting for me. Ticket No. 001. Back of the net…

I woke on Saturday at 7.30am to a stunning sunrise. The mist and haze rising up from the two rivers created a lovely orange, pink, tint to the air, while the sky was bright light blue with vapour trails criss crossing the sky like a huge white fishing net. It all looked very similar to the artwork from War of The Worlds (the album – ask your Dad…).

As I walked around the wasteland that is Hemel town centre, I received a text off a mate of mine who’d seen the Walsall team coach at the hotel in Waltham Abbey. We were playing Orient away, who were riding on the back of eight league games unbeaten. What, do they think they are Hemel Hempstead or something?

I got to the ground just after noon and parked the car. The first thing I noticed was the vibe. The atmosphere was different. You could tell that I’d stepped up a level or two.

The second thing I noticed was that the local residents must get very miffed on a match day, especially if there is a half decent crowd. You’ve got to love that tree in the middle of the island. Now that’s an entrance to a football ground.

The third thing I noticed was the slope on the pitch. Bloody hell fire. I’ll bring a pair of skies next time. It wasn’t until I read the programme that I realised Sir Chris Bonington was guest of honour (OK – I lied about that bit – but the club is missing a trick here – they should get sponsored by the local mountaineering club). Still, the pitch looked in fantastic condition.

Into the ground. The now usual walk around the pitch taking photos. God the pitch looked good. Really good. Stupidly good.

Somewhere I heard a voice asking if I was Noggin. “Are you Tony?” I asked offering my hand. I thanked him for all of his help in getting me a ticket. We had a really good chat. The now usual answers about how he got involved in the club. It seems to be a running theme. More stories of getting involved with their local club and doing it for the love of the game, for the greater good of the community. I continue to fell really cheap for following a professional team.

He told me to keep an eye (and ear) open for the One Direction boys who are regulars on the terraces.

Strange but true event of the day. Hemel decided to have a team photo taken in the goal mouth, in full kit, with two Cups/Trophy’s on display, just as Witham Town turned up. I later asked if they had done that deliberately. Obviously they said no, and I believe them, but it was a master stroke in psychological warfare. 

Into the bar to watch the football on TV. Three screens. Two showing Spurs v Chelsea while Forest v Derby was on the other. So a TV all to myself then…

I found my spot on the terrace behind the goal. True to Tony’s word, there were the One Direction boys, strange, they looked different to how they look on TV. Still, I wouldn’t mind bumping into Caroline Flack on a quiet evening by a roaring fire, or a brightly lit car park for that matter… hahaha…

Some of the Hemel fans recognised me from the St Margaretsbury game. One bloke told me that his work mate was a Walsall fan. Bizarre. As I spoke to more Hemel fans we all agreed that this should be a good game and should easily go in favour of Hemel who were top of the league and riding in on the back of nine games unbeaten. What, do they think they are Leyton Orient or something?

The predictable happened. Hemel were kicking down the slope. Pass it and move. Triangles. Defence splitting passes. Total domination. Chance after chance time after time. Hemel only lacked that final touch. Don’t misread this. Witham’s defence did their job. It wasn’t just as easy as Hemel not being able to score in a house of ill-repute, Witham held their shape, did their job. To be honest, it’s all that they could do. It was just a question of how long could they keep it up and when rather than if Hemel would finally score.

This really was a good standard of football from both sides, as I said, including the defence, because frankly, as a game, it should already have been into double figures, in their bright red ADIDAS strip, Hemel looked like a team from Germany. What, do they think they are Bayern Munich or something?

If I lived locally to this team, I’d pay to watch this every week.

Eventually, after 10 minutes, David Pearce got the goal that had simply been coming. Everyone settled down to watch the oncoming slaughter. In your own speed. Whenever you’re ready. See those three white sticks with a net on it? Now put that round ball shaped thing in there. Don’t be shy. You’ve done it once. This wasn’t looking good. We all knew what was coming and so do you.

Eventually, Witham forced a corner right on the stroke of half time with a stunning save from Hemel’s keeper who clawed the ball out of the top corner like an Eagle plucking a salmon from a river. Over comes the ball. The usual scramble that we’ve all seen before. GOAL! I double blinked. Was that an overhead kick?

A few seconds later it was half time.

Into the bar. Orient 1 Walsall 0. *SIGH* Off for a Bovril. Why don’t Bovril sponsor the league? Any league. Bovril, if you’re reading this, YOU’RE MISSING A TRICK!

During half time I bumped into a small TV crew from BT Sport who were following Witham Town and basically doing the same as me.

By the time the second half had kicked off everyone had walked around to the other end of the ground. One Direction were in good voice. Hemel stayed in the dressing room. Witham grew in strength and confidence as they kicked down the north face of the Eiger (meeting Sir Chris Bonington coming the other way… see what I did there?). It was now a question of which team would lose concentration and slip up. In the end neither team did. Both teams conspired into forcing a stale mate. I started to think about the possibility of a replay and my heart sank. I don’t suppose there’s any chance of next goal the winner…?

No. The Ref blew for full time. GUTTED! I already know that I can’t make the replay. I stood on the terrace behind the goal trying to work out all the possibilities. I know that I should wait until 5am on Tuesday morning, I mean, you really don’t know what’s going to happen until it happens right, but it’s over and I know it. The only thing I can do is get in 15 minutes earlier and try to manipulate my tacho breaks.

Heartbroken I make my way to the bar. I can’t even drink because I’m driving. *SIGH* Just as I walked into the bar I saw on the TV Leyton Orient 1 Walsall 1. “YES! RESULT!” I shouted. Just me then is it… How weird is that, both Hemel and Orient on club record breaking winning runs draw 1-1.

Lots of chatting and making of plans for Tuesday. The lovely people at Witham Town said if I get there on Tuesday then they’ll have a ticket for me.

Before I finally left I went looking for Tony to say goodbye and thank you. He came towards me with a large plate of food which he offered to me, strange, he never said he was Jewish.

As I drove home what should pass me coming the other way, yes you guessed it, the Walsall team coach. I was so busy looking at her that I almost missed my junction. I just laughed like a drain.

It wasn’t until I got home that I found out that we had played over 70 minutes with 10 men (10 men, you couldn’t beat 10 men, you couldn’t beat 10 men…) and St Margaretsbury won 2-4 away.

Today had been a good day.

Noggin xx