I may have mentioned before that I don't have much love for trips to Glapwell. But I naively thought that a play-off game might produce something I haven't seen at Hall Corner all season; a good game of football.
No.
Quite how Glapwell can play a 3-4-3 formation and not be good to watch amazes me. Maybe it has something to do with their love of hoofing it up to Neil Grayson and his two mates, who inevitably don't control it well enough to bring others in to the game. And when they do, there's no width anyway. Awful, awful team to watch.
There was a "bumper" crowd of 250+ plus there last night. Judging by the reactions when Glapwell scored with 15 minutes or so to go, about 2/3 of them had travelled from Staffordshire. Quite how Glapwell can expect to survive at the next level on such apathetic locals is beyond me.
Another thing that is beyond me is how they, and Sheffield. And Stocksbridge, now I come to think of it, can all pass the ground gradings with three sided grounds. That the grading regulations can be flexible, depending upon your affiliations is not news. That such hypocrisy can continue to be allowed to flourish unchallenged though, that's what saddens me most.
Anyway, no photos because there was nothing to shoot. And a Chasetown Glapwell final which leaves my heart cold. In the North it's Lancaster Colwyn Bay, which is a bit more enticing. And in the Prem it's Bradford Boston, which promises to be a cracker.
I might go to Grimsby to watch Barnet throw away their league status in a display of utter ineptitude though.
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An awful game, played by two thoroughly disinterested teams, one of whom I expected to at least give the impression of giving a rats' ass.
The company was pleasant (at least in regard of the companion who doesn't write a blog) but the game passed by as little more than a statistic in the 2009-2010 Unibond history. In years to come, I may regale my grandchildren with tales of Tranmere 4 Southampton 3 in the FA Cup. Or Retford 5 Fleetwod 0 in the Trophy. Maybe even Halifax 4 Lancaster 0 if I need them to go far away from me. But no matter how bad they might have been, I will never inflict Worksop 1 Hucknall 1 on them. I've already forgotten it anyway.
If only everything was so easily forgotten
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The last time I watched a team play Halifax Town, I saw Barnet claim the Conference title. Five years ago. Since then Barnet have arguably punched above their weight in the Football League, whilst Halifax have imploded, died, been re-born and failed to reappear on most people's footballing radar.
Yesterday, those folks who spend too long looking at league statistics, and not enough time speaking to people of the opposite sex (women, in the main, let's be honest) would have most definitely noticed FC Halifax Town.
For one thing, there were in excess of three thousand people at The Shay. A number that surpassed all bar four in the Second Division, and which was on a par with five games in the First Division. Not bad for a team playing in the Unibond Division One North, four rungs below the Football League.
And for another, The Shaymen absolutely annihilated their table-topping opposition. All season long it has been a battle between these two, and yesterday it seemed Halifax dealt their opposition a fatal blow.
The last time I saw Lancaster City play, they were also top of the table, they also played awfully, and they also lost. Is it me?
Halifax played expansive, flowing football, anchored by a coleuses at number 5, and spearheaded by a titan at number 9. Between them, they squashed Lancaster at every turn. City had no idea what was happening to them, and their management no idea how to counter it.
One down within five minutes, Lancaster's plan of taking a point was scuppered before they had even settled down. The vocal fan base cheered every pass, backed every tackle. No one was going to ruin this day for them. Least of all some pesky upstarts from Lancashire.
Were I am Lancaster fan, I would absolutely furious with the management of my team. In this spectators opinion, it was their intransigence that cost City any chance they may have had. One short man up front was not going to win any header against the aforementioned coleuses. The wide men backing him up were largely anonymous, save for a pair of fancy-dan boots. And the absence of any midfielders pushing through meant Town could repel at leisure.
Lazy blogging at it's very worst
At the other end, the absence of attacking thoughts from the backline should have lead to a resiliant defence. But that would be to bet without Halifax's number 9, a man by the not inconsiderable name of James Dean. Single-handedly, he bullied, bruised and baffled the Lancaster backline until he was pulled off as a mercy call by the Halifax bench. Everything that Emile Hesky doesn't do as targetman, Dean did. He won, he held, he involved. Oh, and he scored. I don't have the words, simply.
But nothing was changed until half time, by which point City were two down, and pretty much dead in the water. 4-1-4-1 became 4-4-2, and nothing really changed. Yes they threatened the home goal a little more, even daring to have a goalmouth scramble before conceding the third. But in truth Lancaster were more off the pace than this little fella
Halifax fans have been talking their team up all season long, but it has often been dismissed as nothing more than hyperbole and bravado. Yesterday, Halifax Town were as good as, if not better, then their fans' words.
By the way, apologies for the paucity of pictures. I was reliant on my phone, and not really suitably placed. Unless, of course, you had an accordion, eh Plinny?
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Those of you who tally such things may have noted that the last few games have left me gasping for my blogging breath, such has been the paucity of quality and desire shown by some of the season-end fixtures. Thankfully, this game broke the pattern.
A clash between neighbours (about 12 miles depending in your route), AND a potential title decider (both teams tied on points at the top of the Unibond Premier table). It promised much. And whilst the atmosphere was noticeable only for it's absence in such a game, the two sides put on a show that ably demonstrated how they have risen to the top of the table.
Ground Hopper chic
It is fair to say that neither Guiseley or BPA are afraid of opening their wallets. Avenue believe, rightly or wrongly, that they should be playing in bigger ponds than the Unibond, and after an ill-fated spell under Lee Sinnott (which should have worked in my opinion) they are now flourishing under John Deacy. Backed solidly by the wallet , and ego of Bob Blackburn, they have assembled a group of giants in their bid to play Conference football. (incidentally, if any readers are unaware, this tale of last summer's exploits is a joy)
Guiseley on the other hand have stealthily assembled their squad over the last couple of years, and it shows. Whereas BPA play like an assortment of (relatively) talented individuals, Guiseley are defintely a team.
1300 people packed themselves in to Nethermoor Park to watch this game. And yet for much of it you could hear a pin drop. For such an important game, I don't think it was niave to expect some sort of atmosphere. But no, chanting was almost non existent, exubberant celebrations ont he terraces were kept in check. And most off-putting of all, there wasn't a single flag to be seen. I've never really got the whole flag thing myself. But others do, and it tends to be seen as the first sign of fanatical support amongst a certain section of support. That neither side showed any signs of this passion surprised me.
As you know, this isn't the place for incisive match analysis. I don't know enough, and I get bored writing my thoughts down. As proof of how little I know, the Guiseley player I had pegged as MOTM was pulled off after an hour, and the most dangerous BPA came off soon afterwards. Ergo, I know nothing, and we are all wasting our time on this site.
Bradford are a big side, with some more than competant players, but as I may have mentioned the overall ethic isn't as unified as Guiseley's. Both sides displayed enough to say that it will have to be a very good side that stops them both going up. Having seen most of the oppostion, I haven't seen anyone better. That said, Boston are rejuvinated, and Retford are much, much better away from home (and their current fifth means that all playoff games would be away) That leaves North Ferriby, who I only saw first game of the season, and wasn't overly impressed with. Table says they're any good, and we've established I know shit all.
The return match is tomorrow night at BPA's place. It promises to be a humdinger. If you can tear yourself away from Clive Tyldesley fawning all over Wayne Rooney, it'd be well worth the trip. Me? I can't get out of work early enough. Actually gutted.
Don't forget, there's more photos, including the best combover I've seen for some time, on the Facebook fan pages....
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There was a phone call a few weeks ago that went along the lines of "Do you want a ticket for the FC United game at Marine?, "Aye, why not?", "I'll get it sorted"
As 3pm rolled around at the Arriva Stadium, Crosby, I was stood in the pissing rain in Loughborough. If you want a job doing properly, do it yourself.
The course of events that lead me to revisit one of the dullest football grounds in the Unibond do not need to concern you, dear reader. All that should is that whilst this ground continues to sail under the radar, the "flexibility" of ground grading regulation enforcement will continue to bewilder many.
Just around the corner from Dynamo's Watermead Road complex is Charnwood Forest, and I have to say that two hours spent strolling round those ancient woods is infinitely preferable to spending two hours watching two teams get wet.
At least the dog cared
I say two teams, but that gives undue praise to Cammel Lairds who frankly looked like a pub team in organisation and attitude. I say this with the upmost respect for all concerned, some of whom were surely doing their best. But when players don't show because wages are withheld til the end of the season, and the bench is made up with people who happen to be on a golfing weekend in the area, it hardly smacks of a well-run ship.
The Lairds' Homeless Ultra
The game itself was forgettable. The good folk of Loughborough are a fairly stoic bunch, and that, coupled with the weather meant that there was no chance of them getting remotely excited. Likewise, had Lairds done anything exciting, there was no one there who cared enough to cheer it.
So it was that a goal in each half settled the contest, and allowed those gathered to sneak off early watch Leicester lose, and later Tranmere win (no, really. It was on Sky and everything)
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A hastily arranged trip back to South Elmsall for the Unibond Prem fixture between Frickley and Nantwich. Wasn't planned, for obvious reasons, but BTFM is never one to turn down a free pass, as we established on Saturday. But I hope that fulfils my obligation for, ooh, about 7 years??
No photos. No videos. And not much to report really. Bet you're glad you popped in now aren't you?
The long and the short of it is that Frickley won 2-0, against a Nantwich team who could not have looked less interested if they were attending a bell ringing seminar. Highlights, talking points and moments worthy of reporting in a two-bit blog were few and far between.
Oh how we yearned for the drama of, oh, I dunno, a truck driver not realising he had rammed a car at high speed
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At the risk of bigging myself up, I was quite proud of the billing I gave Frickley Athletic v Ossett Town on Facebook. So I'm going to recreate it here.
Groundhopping doesn't get tougher than this.
(that's it)
Ask anyone in northern non league circles their opinion of a visit to Frickley, and they will fairly universally wrinkle their nose and hold court on an unsavoury trip or two. Indeed, I have acquaintances of a Barnet persuasion who still talk in hushed tones of trips to the heart of the Miner's Strike in the early 80's. And these are battle hardened guys who have visited Runcorn.
It's fair to say it isn't the most salubrious of areas. Westfield Lane, which leads to the ground, has certainly seen better days. But moves appear to be afoot to at least save it from any further use as a set for a post-apocolyptic hell. And an evening kick off protects those of a more sensitive disposition.
In a bid to further spread the word, Frickley were letting fans of football league sides with season tickets in for £1. Thank god they were, because the crowd would have been even more disappointing without the interlopers.
Things started well. A goal within the first couple of minutes for the visitors. And shortly after, their hosts grabbed an equaliser. From thereon-in it was pretty much one-way traffic, with Frickley not quite laying siege to the Ossett goal, but definitely looking the more likely to score. To this end they hit the woodwork twice in the first half, and were they not forced in to making all three of their substitutions within the first 40 minutes, I'm fairly sure they would have pushed on to win the game comfortably.
As it was, the promising start gave way to a frustrating game, spoiled by an idiosyncratic ref and some poor players. I don't want to slate Frickley too much, as whatever game plan they woul dhave had was surely hamstrung by the changes. But you would hope that the replacements had some grasp of the way the side were set up to play.
The Ossett left back may as well have pulled out a deck chair, so un-needed were his defensive skills. His mate on the right flank was kept slightly busier, but if they don't have them recovering on the injury list right now, the Frickley management must surely be scouring the land for some wingers. Guys just to stand on the flanks would be an improvement, even if they were never passed to.
A point apiece at full time will have pleased Ossett more than Frickley, but given the early disruption to the side, Frickley should be happy enough.
For the record, the locals were no more noticeable than anywhere else BTFM has visited. For what one reader cited as being a feisty Yorkshire derby, the atmosphere was certainly mellow. And despite the fears of one noted cross-dressing blogger of ill-repute, car and contents were all exactly where I left them.
Frickley may not be the most welcoming-looking place you will come across. But it's a long way from the Millwall of the North too.
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Given what went off before, I wouldn't normally be in a rush to go back to Harrogate Railway Athletic, regardless of whether or not they were playing table-topping Lancaster City.
But needs must, and believe you me, it was for the greater good. I am writing this ahead of the main event not only of the weekend, but of my year so far. The Quireboys are playing an acoustic gig in Knaresborough tonight, and I'll be there, centre stage, screaming my adulation for the man they call "Spike". I'm on record as saying I would go gay for him. He wouldn't touch me with someone else's hands. But the offer is there.
For all your pre-match sausage roll nee
But you're not here to read about of the dark recesses of my mind, are you dear reader? On the contrary, you come to Beat The First Man because it drops in your reader unexpectedly of fabled tactical insight and pithy observations on the noble game. So, to business...
Harrogate is nowhere near to Mexico. Most of us are aware of this. But the rather garish kit of HRA means that they display a flag outside Station View that could confuse a stupid person.
That said, not even the most cerebally challenged would have struggled to work out where they were once they surveyed the pitch. I'm not criticising anyone, as we all know the troubles this winters weather has caused groundsmen up and down the country. But given there is ample
space immediately behind the ground, is it unreasonable to think that both teams could at least have warmed up elsewhere, rather than churning the pitch unnecessarily?
A very long scarf
With the visitors embroiled in a battle with "the mighty" (c) Shyamen of Halifax at the top of the Unibond First Division North, and the hosts heading squarely in the opposite direction, this should have been a banker for an away win. Certainly, the visiting fans, who at least matched the number of home fans, thought so.
As a side note I've never seen so many fans accompanied by so few flags or banners. They had a long scarf tho.
Railway though had other ideas. They took the lead within ten minutes, after the ball was lobbed back in to the area from a scuffed free kick, and the impressive Stansfield latched on to it. Didn't stop him moaning at his team mates all afternoon tho.
Write your own. I'm not going to hell for you.
Fifteen minutes later, Lancaster City finally got the equaliser their possession required. A fact which pleased the vociferous fans no end. If for no other reason than Railway's keeper is a rotund chap, and we all love a fat keeper, don't we kids?
As the half drew to a close, those vocal fans became quieter. This banker was looking increasingly less of a sure thing.
Things got worse at the start of the second half, when City had a corner, which was comfortably claimed by the keeper and launched downfield, where Hollingdrake slotted it past the keeper. Some of this action has been caught on video. Alas, not the important bit.
As the game wore on, tempers frayed on and off the pitch. The vocal set moved behind the dugouts and managed to upset the home management. Attentions then turned to the playing staff, with individual performances being singled out for special attention. (edit: this has continued on their forum. Not sure how beneficial this is to anyone, but then the myopic and opinionated football fan is what forced me in to ground hopping anyway)
A second yellow was shown to Lancaster's midfield "enforcer", before Harrogate broke away one more time to confirm their victory. It can be viewed here, sort of. There is a reason the BBC never employed me, that's all I'm saying.
All in all, not a great day at the office for The Dollyblues. With Halifax beating Prescot Cables, the race for promotion is really hotting up in the Unibond One North.
Postscript: the gig was bloody fantastic. I love Spike.
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