Accepting three lost points: seven easy steps.

Accepting three lost points: seven easy steps.

1. Frustration as you realise that, even though you paid a decent amount of money to get into the ground, you don't actually have control over every last move of the game. And so all you can do is irrationally shout directions at your players, and likewise shout directions at the officials/opposition players for where they can stick it.

2. Without an equaliser in sight, the full-time whistle blows and the frustration bubbles over into a few spare moments of anger.
Look at that opposition fan. Look how smug he is. He knows his team have got away with something. I think I'll give him a piece of my—oh wait, he's bigger than me. Not that I had anything to say to him anyway, of course. I'm not angry anymore. Never was, in fact.

3. As you make your way home, your special post-match analysis that you inundate your friends with is dominated by an overriding annoyance.
If that six-yard box didn't have such a big bump in it, that shot that hit the post would have gone in, rather than out for a goal-kick. Listen to our manager's pre-match thoughts, even he thought we'd win this, you can tell! God, they were jammy. Now we've dropped two places and need to play catch-up, our manager will have to prove his worth. I'm not one of those who lies the blame entirely on the linesmen/ref either, but if it wasn't for that penalty decision, we'd—eh, he was just shit. I hope he never officiates again.

4. Often as the first post-match drink passes your lips, a wave of apathy comes and goes.
I don't have to bother about this team if I don't choose to. Today was a waste of my time, a waste of my petrol, a waste of my money, and I didn't do any work on Friday looking forward to it. But eh. It's not like I don't support them after these games, I just try not to think about them. I try to not think about our diminishing position in the league . . . I . . . urgh.

5. You think you've budged the game right from your mind's eye. You go on and to your friends you seem enjoy the night as usual. But no matter how delicious the drink, the music or the women are, you feel at unease. Yet you can't pinpoint it.
It can't be about the match, I mean, you don't have to care when you lose, surely?

6. The night is over. You go home alone and decide to turn in. But as you do, in comes the black dog of melancholy and depression. You remember the game, you remember your players not playing like they should, you remember flailing around in the stands in frustration. You can tell the prescription of apathy wasn't sufficient and the whole day has simply amounted to pain.
Why am I tossing and turning in bed? Why am I alone in bed? If I didn't follow this team around I wouldn't be alone tonight. If I . . .
Your train of thought trails off incomprehensibly as you finally fall asleep.

7. Finally, acceptance. You've woken up, given yourself a scrub and have cooled down. A little later, you log on to your club's website and read the manager's comments. Whether they're dithering or have substance, you're at peace. Not necessarily with your club, but with yourself as a fan. Travelling half the country to be trounced, turning up to the game only to find the players haven't, or watching them play well but being outclassed, you come to a vital realisation.

This is what being a fan is all about. Being one of the few that travelled that far, or being part of the majority that will come back for the next home game. Being one of the 99.9% who didn't end up clashing with the opposition fans. Those are the moments you can say you've been a supporter of your team. You have tales to recollect that you don't necessarily want to. You may have seen the victorious local derby or the cup match against billy-big-bollocks like everyone else did, but you also watched the game that brought nothing but trenchfoot from standing out in the elements in the February rain for two hours. Even if you refuse to acknowledge that, you cannot deny that the losses make the wins feel better, provided you turn up to both, and keep turning up after both.

You also realise that you've experienced this series of emotions umpteen times before and can name each stage and decide to write all about how clever you are for remembering them.

Ashton United 1 – 2 Halifax Town; 25/09/10.

Ashton United 1 – 2 Halifax Town; 25/09/10.

The two Saturday home games against Whitby are over, so time for the two Saturday away games at Ashton United's Hurst Cross. Good enough for me, because I remember loving the place in February when Mossley had to play there. I discover they don't have one gents' at the corner of the ground that is just a 5'6 brick wall, but two. I get some drinks down me and have a wee at one during half-time. I have exercised my maleness by pissing on a low designated wall—the most unorthodox bogs in English football—and so should you. Sadly, the weather's getting plain nasty so make sure no-one catches a glimpse of your cold-shrivelled member.

 That isn't my head. I'm just a voyeur.

At the end of this week, Ashton will be swimming in it from two days of hosting Town, which does our bit in helping them survive after being sued £32,000 for that career-ending injury one of their players inflicted on another several years ago, as compensation culture has wormed its way into northern football matches, where you realistically should expect to get some career-ending injury on your way to retirement anyway. I'm glad to come back in the daytime.

Where Ashton lock up their old managers.

Because this is football, and vegetarians are therefore gays, I got a serving of chips and pestilant-looking mushy peas which turned out to be gorgeous, rather than the elusive Holland's pie. I also took another look in the shop, but the way the conversation the shop attendants were having stopped as soon as a Town fan came in made me quickly scarper. To wrap up eating two of my five-a-day (chips 'n peas) I had a Mars, and as I dropped the end of it off in a bin, Ashton scored. 1–0 in 20 seconds, and Town hadn't even touched the ball. Those extrapolating the score to predict a 270–0 victory by full-time would be silly buggers, as after this with some work from Hedge, and little work beyond catching crosses and squared balls for the Ashton 'keeper, the first half ended with a 1–0 deficit. Luckily though, a referee decided to attend the game, and despite being as imperfect as the tier he works in suggests, he was one who checked his decisions throughout the game. For better or worse, in the 44th minute he sent off an Ashton player. It made sense to send off one to punish the rest of them, as the Shaymen were facing yet another team that practise rolling about on the ground more than anything else during training, and this would be a turning point where, after a half-time "chat," we could find areas to properly penetrate the Ashton box after a level 45 minutes.

It was definitely tough still, possibly with only one forward (half in experiment, half because Deano had conjunctivitis). With as always, either a profoundly unfit Ashton side or more likely a very dirty Ashton side, they tumbled here and there, but the referee would have little of it, ending up telling main culprit number 6 to get up. That, an uneven pitch, and the Ashton tactics that have seen them let in little and score few more, made it tough to watch the artful game, but we're all equally happy to watch the northern game.

The goals came in the last fifteen minutes, and they had to have come at some point. Three of them, the last being disallowed. Two short-rangers from Taylor were notched, one off a rebounding penalty, but enough to make things ecstatic in a packed terrace behind the goal. A contrast to the dejected face of the defender who stopped in his tracks as the second went in, and trudged back to the middle of the pitch where an early FA Cup knock-out was waiting for him and his club.

In two weeks we play the 3QR at the Shay, playing at home to Harrogate Town.

Ashton United 1 – 2 Halifax Town; att. 525
Ground: 8/10
Pitch: 5/10
Programme: N/A
Talent: lass in the tea hut looked good from behind
Non-partisan entertainment: 6/10

Brighouse 0 – 5 FC Halifax Town, 17/07/10 + the future of this blog.

Brighouse 0 – 5 FC Halifax Town, 17/07/10 + the future of this blog.

Not all of us "get" going to friendlies and that's fair enough. But to people like me, the close season seems to take longer and longer to get through, even when the World Cup's on.

The away trip to Brighouse is a warm-up for what us fans are going to see in the next nine-and-a-half months, and a warm-up exercise for our players. It was good to see Taylor put four in, and Holland the other, ie. two debutants scoring, and it wasn't good to see the dreadful food on offer: apparently the steak sarnies were diabolical, and my choice would've been an unbuttered bap. A mostly new set of legs came on for the second half, including a young hopeful trialist 'keeper name of Proctor, an ex-Preston NE youth and Rossendale lad. Looking forward to see us test ourselves against Droylsden this weekend, if I can get to it.

I'm largely in Halifax from 10th August to 28th September, assuming this and that. If I'm very lucky however I'll get a place in a university in London where I'll be from then on. Things haven't been generous to those with aspiration this side of 1979, but I rate a high-class education above watching three quarters of the games of team I adore for a few years. In this situation, I'll be going up to Halifax on weekends to watch the games I want to see more (Bankrupt Park Avenue, FCUM, Whitby, Marine, other big games (hell, they all are, always)).

So I'll be a Shayman Down South. I may become a bit of a groundhopper and bore you about the footballing lives of southern fairies. I'll give the news when it comes in.

I might be able to convince my brother to write for FTS or for the fanzine I've heard rumours about re-emerging, but he's having none of it at the moment.

'Til the next one.

A few pictures from Curzon Ashton.

A few pictures from Curzon Ashton.

Thanks, Oli.

Anyone keen on writing it up is still more than welcome to offer.









Curzon Ashton 0 – 5 FC Halifax Town; att. 803.

Sounds like our most convincing away win this season, ahead of Shepshed Dynamo and Colwyn Bay. The insane buzz the changing rooms had for the first few months of the season seems to have come back.

TITILLATINNG TOP TABLE TOWN TROUNCE TORRID TRAFFORD TO TATTERS

TITILLATINNG TOP TABLE TOWN TROUNCE TORRID TRAFFORD TO TATTERS

Sadly, Lancaster remain top of the table after taking the points in the last few minutes again, making it 2–1 against Mossley. Around ten substitutes, a referee, two linesmen, a physio, a bored-looking ballboy, a few officials and the odd fan attended the Lancashire to-and-fro at the Giant Axe.

But with a more convincing win, the Shaymen held their first away clean sheet in two months with a well-deserved 3–0 scoreline against Trafford. The end result is a two-goal push against our fellow title-contenders, and something I'm footballistically (ta for that one, Arsene) happy to take; the score I predicted on Wednesday.

The three points come against a mid-table outfit who were more up for a game of football than ever. It was prevented the last two times I saw them due to the goalkeeper ever falling over so their physio (young blonde woman) could run on and dab him again. The rotund keeper, guarding a nice set of league-standard nets today, asked for no heed this time around and as a result, he was bullied by the fans behind the net far less for his unfootballing size. Also, has anyone noticed that several Unibond physios are all young, baseball cap-wearing women with really long blonde hair? Don't remember any of their faces however, just in case it turns out that it's the same one, deployed to the most-attended game every matchday.



Oh no though, today the keeper stood in the way of several Town shots that weren't flying to either side of him, and got his fingers to a few others. At one point I retrieved a stray ball which I accidentally kicked toward the corner flag rather than him, and I apologise about this because it wasn't a matter of wanting to make him run a little or waste time, rather after not playing football properly in a decade, I'm a rusty cog. He won't be happy now either way, as three goals did go in, book-ending both the start and finish of the game. The first came two minutes after the kick-off, Wilde being released perfectly and cleanly putting the ball away.

Play came and receded from then on, but it was mostly Town domination. Trafford had two attacks early on after Town's two, but from then on the 50:50 play was over. It was another case of one-way traffic this time, though a nice change to see it away from home too. There were moments among these, Syko's very early save-forcer, narrow misses, some excellent crosses and balls that weren't executed early enough. The first half was a wave-off with certainty that some killing-off goals would come our way.



Normal service continued in the second half, but as mentioned, the shots ranged in quality but never tested so much. To liven up our forward few Peers replaced Sykes and an unimpressive Dean went off for new striker Lee Gregory a little later on, but play was starting to get tentative when things were at 1–0 in the final quarter what with our record for throwing things away. We let Trafford get back in it a little, if enough to attempt to penetrate our solid defense although Hedge wasn't given any challenges. The grumbly windbags stood around me (need to be more selective where I stand) really kicked off when loaned man Barnes, a man who has left no impression on Aspin's promising mold, was sent off after allegedly headbutting a man, and said goodbye to a short and unremarkable career as a Shayman.

Though this brought us to the height of clenched teeth for the game, it was a good reason for the lads to act on Aspin's urgent words to put more in. Peers struck a low shot from outside the box that completely bypassed the Trafford 'keeper just before injury time, and gave one for Nick Gray to easily put away a couple of minutes later. The crowd went from panicky to very much satisfied, and the "RUBBBISH PEERS, AS USUAL" moans seemed more moronic than ever. Super sub.

Lee Gregory had pace, but with little given to do couldn't to put his name on the score sheet. The fans were few and quiet today, but certainly happy by the end of things. As for the 20 Trafford part-timers who went off just before Barnes was too: why? You clearly have no license to chant "We love you Trafford, we do" when you've just sneaked out at your most hopeful moment of the game!




Our time at Shawe View was exactly how the guy with the microphone described it: a pleasant afternoon. The temperature was edging on the tens, dry weather and rolling clouds made it a good opportunity to lie on the banking behind one of the goals. And the pitch was in fantastic nick, not a speck of mud showing through, even around the nets, oddly considering the goalie's hippopotamine figure. Their groundsman has been nominated for an award and it shows: a flat, lined surface, no litter even in the ground's recesses.

The ground itself has been a work in progress in the 19 years of Trafford FC's existence. In its current state it has two opposing stands lengthways, a banking behind one goal and cover over part of the other. The stands themselves are basic as they come—galvanised tin on poles, and backless. It sounds rather lacking but what we had was a ground kept so trim that it qualified as an excellent venue. That and it was one of the few places I've been to flogging cheese and onion pies, which is always very welcome. Just a nice tidy place in nice tidy surburbia Mancunia.

At half-time, the guy with the microphone announced they were soon to face Lancaster again on the 13th, a rare day's rest after the Shaymen play Curzon Ashton. Well, it fits snugly inside the Easter holidays for me, and I'll entertain the thought. It'd be a pleasure.



Trafford FC 0 – 3 FC Halifax Town; att. 512.

Ground: 7/10
Pitch: 10/10
Programme: 4/10 (lots of stats, very little write-ups!)
Non-partisan entertainment: 8/10
Top men: Peers, Wilde, Phelan, Sykes

Ossett take a pounding!

Ossett take a pounding!

After the chemical castration that was Saturday's performance, Aspin's men responded with an emphatic win over third-bottom Ossett Albion in the succeeding league match this Tuesday.

The game got off to a yawn as most Town games tend to until, instead of the umpteenth attack this time, the first attack, where Nick Gray strided either side of two Ossett defenders who failed to show pressure and slotted the ball in its rightful place. The game became a little more interesting, and after not too long Gray found the net again, this time deceptively heading it over the goalie's reach from a crossed ball. Effing fantastic! The man hasn't played to well in recent games and Aspin was quoted saying he was entertaining dropping him, but against all likelihoods, the right idea was to keep him in. Soon into the second half, Gray found an open goal in which to place another close-range header. Yeah!

Up to then, Ossett had their own threats. In the meantime before the third killer-offer, Ossett deceived our defense again (still not top-notch) and had a few one-on-ones. Two Hedge collected from the strikers' feet, and three he tipped over well. A good game from the lad. But after this, Ossett lost it and it was Winters' turn to make a convincing mark on the scoresheet, with two credible goals to finish Ossett off to be devastated with a 5–0 loss against one of the tightest Halifax units so far. An absolute top show from the midfield three, Winter, Baker and Phelan, with Baker staying back a bit as he has done so far this season, and Scotty trying to make the scoresheet himself at some points. The games of Dean, Marshall and finally Peers were by no means shockers, just without luck and effective enough.

In all, a great night out and a VERY RUSHED REVIEW BECAUSE I REALISE I'D BEST GET THIS WRITTEN AT LEAST BEFORE WE GIVE PRESCOT CABLES A THUMPING ON OUR HOME TURF TOMORROW.

Strictly come dogging.

Strictly come dogging.

It's been a pretty good week. For me on a personal level, anyway. But then I decided to carry on being a Shayman and get emasculated as Radcliffe Borough came back from two goals behind, and over the course of 20 minutes, changed the tables to make the final score 3–2.

You couldn't really blame them for their utter ecstasy as one of their coaches ran towards the kick-off spot once the third went in as it seemed the last result you would guess. Things felt tentative for Halifax as soon as Radcliffe's first breakthrough attack of the second half found its way scrappily past John Hedge, and two—just two—further breaks put them in front for the first time in the game.



But again, the Shaymen's end wasn't the one with the most divots in as we put in a typical 35-attack display, close on many occasions but clear-cut and in on just two. The first game halfway through the first half and in good time, as the Stockport-loaned goalkeeper Lloyd Rigby went out to clear a ball which found its way to Phelan, who made it fly well over the defenders' heads and to the other side of the nets. The man had yet another top, dedicated game whereas Baker made balls fly, partly down to carrying a bit of hip pain. The second was a close-range header into an open net as the keeper was on the other side near the start of the second half, and several others their keeper managed to save without making errors in his placing. In all though, he was possibly the best I've seen in this league, and won't remain here long. Didn't stand there hopelessly putting on weight like the others, but couldn't kick a ball.

Neil Aspin seemed to make this match a test for a slightly different formation. Marshall came on as a substitute (along with Peers, who deserves 90 minutes at least half the time, adds incredible pace) but those two came all at late time. Andy Lee played left wing and carried the ball very well but didn't get stuck in. Codman wasn't present, and in defense Riley was performing at a low standard.



Anyway, another case of us needing to be more clinical I guess. Even before we start to focus on bringing together our excellent defenders as a tight unit, I suggest attacking like it'll only happen two or three times in a game. Many of our opposition do it, and succeed leaving us bewildered. My second team, Bury, are also great practitioners of it, and training on Radcliffe's pitch maybe Boro' took in this form of play to use today. A game of two halves and the second eventually went their way.



Not without entertainment, though. The order of the five goals could've been a thrill and the work was end-to-end, with very little time to tune off, if ever. Off-pitch entertainment included a very reactionary adolescent member of the steward team. When he bleated "COME ON, BURY!" he received a load of taunts, so he resorted to angrily flapping around his arms inside his oversized bright orange jacket, making chimp-like faces at the Town fans. As the ferocious few stewards walked past the seating again they got chanted at, and the lad seemed visibly distressed, whining "Shut up!" at one person he managed to pick out. Quality stuff, and if anything he should have been more susceptible to banter.

The atmosphere could've been a lot better, but even as fans we lacked a bit of confidence today. Lots of growling really, and an irritating amount sneaking out with a few minutes to go. What was worse though, was the one or two that made their opinions known to our players in a foul way. Many a simian creature takes joy of hitting Halifax when we're down, but with those apes around posing as "fans" and giving our team abuse, the fire is fuelled. I suggest they take a long holiday to Norfolk Island.

The ground filled requirements basically, having enough area behind each goals to suit my yelling needs with a very decent seater stand behind one nets, several concrete steps behind the centre of the other and rickety steel along one side, with a few crush barriers along the other. Utilitarian but with a cabin fever feel. Programme was the weakest all season. It looked like a double glazing leaflet with two articles that could be read in just as many minutes, and wasn't glossy, jto tip Wakefield's in being the fartiest affair of the season.


Ground: 6/10
Pitch: 4/10 (couldn't blame the mud in this weather, but the slope is quite something)
Food: 0/10 (no fecking chips or pies or peas in sight, pathetic)
Programme: 1/10
Entertainment: 9/10 (fantastic for the non-partisan)

Freezing our tits off for Rossendale.

Freezing our tits off for Rossendale.

We've had a burden on us to win this one at least 3–1 really, to keep up the threatening score lines. But with a 2–0 win in the most blustery, chilling weather of my all-time football experience is a total pleasure, and what being a fan is all about.

Came back from a guitar lesson to get to the Shay at 7pm, and I was in the first ten Shaymen to arrive stood in the stands. An old man hobbled down with me briskly, going, "It'll be off! It'll be abandoned! We'll lose anyway but it'll still be off!" No matter how I answered him, he replied with this. Skircoat supporters are like really dumb computers sometimes.

But he had a point on one front. The wind was billowing, and in the front several rows of the stand you were in for a fright. Absolutely freezing. This was what the pitch was like at 7pm, and it only got worse:



Grabbed some very stale chips, and watched one of the most arduous first halves ever. Though Rossendale barely threatened and failed to test the keeper, nothing seemed to come of our attacks, Hedge ran about to keep warm, and I wished I could. Practically nothing happened in the half and I was worried a goal would find its way past Hedge through bad luck, as is the way of things. The first half ball was white you see, and the surface was so slow that pace was nonexistent. When the whistle blew I started on my way to the car as I thought it meant the game had been called off. I'd say there would've been an 85% chance of it.

About twenty minutes in the second half things really perked up. Most of the 801 (an attendance I'm happy with considering so many wouldn't've gone due to its likelihood to be called off) were in the South Stand, huddled like minnows to avoid the snowfall and the atmosphere was fairly prevailing. A (Danny) Lowe attendance for (Aaron) Hardy, season ticket-holding fans, ho ho ho. Still, pitch conditions weren't as bad as Prescot Shambles'. Lee and Peers were brought on and the football became more attacking. Deano's converted penalty helped us grab a win, but Peers confirmed it, were a stray attack to have somehow succeeded in the Rossendale end. The Stags tried hard and put men behind the ball, but were by and large incapable of doing anything. Happy with 2–0, more than happy to see the Shaymen work as such a fluid, together unit; something you'd never get with Jim Vince's lot.

Should be a more convincing win by numbers against Radcliffe on Saturday too.

FC Halifax Town 3 – 0 Harrogate Railway Athletic; 13th February 2010.

FC Halifax Town 3 – 0 Harrogate Railway Athletic; 13th February 2010.

To hell with the missus, spend a Saturday afternoon freezing to death at the Shay with 1200 or so other enlightened characters and watch tearfully one-sided football until the final, shrill whistle. And if you find that a little too much, take her with you. Just remember to go to the toilet beforehand, because there isn't any soap in the grounds' bogs and apparently merely wetting your hands only feeds germs.

Tonight's a night of celebration, for this is the first match report I've done for Town which doesn't involve them drawing! It isn't a curse! But against a team who have failed to win away in the league this season, it shouldn't be such a surprise. Despite that, Harrogate RA are a team that play more football than average, and a unit I hope we didn't humiliate too much.

The match heralded possibly a first at the Shay, as I took along a friend who is possibly the first Chinese woman ever to pass through the turnstiles. And . . . *drum roll* . . . we've just made another Shay(wo)man! Town put their all into today's game and she wasn't disappointed at all, despite being new to the game to my knowledge. It's also good to finally have a case of Halifax stealing fans from Huddersfield for once, rather than the other way round.



Kicking off, as always it was pretty even for the first five minutes. We warmed up and started spending most of the time in their half again.

Now, one of the cardinal sins of a striker or anyone getting forward to the box is allowing the ball to fly across the box and for none of them to receive it as it does. Dead balls going from post-to-post in line with the net is desperately sad. If an opponent grabs it there, then tough titty. Otherwise, it's an open goal opportunity. Anyway, it happens, and opportunities like that saw the Shaymen getting closer and closer to the net. For the rotund goalkeeper's waddling and lack of dedication however, he pulled off decent saves throughout the game and eventually Marshall had a gloved header trickle in as the goalkeeper scuffled it. Goalazzio!

More putting-in-placeness came approaching half time, as corners didn't quite find clinical headers, and throughout the game two or three goals were disallowed, though with fair sense. Commotion was raised as Scooby (I think) fell in the box, but by half time it was 1–0, a satisfactory, but not quite comfortable.

Harrogate didn't really threaten in their few attacks, but of them there were two goalmouth scrambles where Hedge eventually gathered the ball. He had a fantastic match to man up to some of the balls which got so near to the net (even though the venom in Harrogate's attack was about as poisonous as a nice hot bubble bath), and the first clean sheet in a few games.

The second half saw an even better display of football. The only performance I can truly criticise was the meekness of Winter's efforts, and Nicky Gray, though his confidence increased as the game went on. The second goal seemed without question as Gray broke through and with a clear-cut effort, slotted it past the keeper who, due to his mass, was unable to get to the ground in time.

Play petered out a little again as it did after the first goal, and Peers came on. Within a few minutes, he fired a low shot at the keeper in a similar scenario, which was hit to fly straight out of the nets immediately by the desperate slide of a Harrogate defender. The referee quickly decided the effort went in. 3–0! The cheers weren't as great due to the moment of suspension, and the controversy about whether it went in definitely was there, as there were but microseconds in the time it actually passed the goal line and was kicked out if at all. But, Town fans! Here's your proof:



The second half was comfy and without too many mistakes anyway, and many may say the score didn't quite live up to the performance, but there's nothing to complain about. Practically the best thirteen players at this current time saw through the game at least in parts, functioned exceptionally well and were a treat to watch. A comfortable game once we picked up at the second half, and another seller for FCHT. The whistle blew after a worry-free half, and Town fans quickly filed out of the stadium before their extremities froze off.

We'll have to take the chances bequeathed to us on Monday's Curzon game at the Tameside if they have the skills their position suggests, but by today's result, there is nothing to fear. It'll be a heated cracker of a game regardless of the final score, and if you're not usually the one who'd enjoy getting pneumonia for your local team then I pray you take that evening's game as an exception. Hoping for a crowd in excess of 700 there, and if you'll be one of them then I'll happily see you there.

Wakefield FC 1 – 1 FC Halifax Town; 6th February 2010.

Wakefield FC 1 – 1 FC Halifax Town; 6th February 2010.

An embarrassment to write home about and I'll try to keep this brief (edit: I failed). The bad news is that against a team with U-12s game play and another sod of a referee, in the bottom half of the table, we have had a two-pointer league record. I also forgot my camera so no pictures, and there are about two online because no-one cares about this team. On the good side, above all, we've gained a point on Lancaster, and every point counts. They lost at home to Garforth, 0–3.

According to the Unibond site, Chris Kamara scored Garforth's third! Legend!

Onto the game review:
First half: should've been 3 or 4–0. We dominated, our chances were aplenty.
Second half: we were on top on the whole, but by the standard of play a draw wouldn't be too gutting. Which is what we got in the second. And that would've been good were the first half to have gone as plans.

The criticism:
A lot of flak is given to our defense. At times we do give the ball away, for sure, and at times it cannot be up to the standard of the rest of the team, but this isn't the point. We've got to have the best defense in the league, and a great goalkeeper in Hedge. Our main problem is that we had 94 attacks today and weren't clinical enough. Deano kept facing the wrong way, and as the main striker there was a leak in the tactics when he'd be on the wing so often. And we're all catching the Nicky Gray bug of giving it far too many touches. Anyone remember how well Marshall does when he just immediately blasts it at the goals? Yeah, more of that, Aspin. Please read this, Aspin. :(


Onto the journey and ground itself. Always a colourful part of the game. We arrived in Wakefield with half an hour to go, and our route planner pages sent us up a slummy back-corridor. We asked about ten people there, the final one of whom knew that Wakefield had a football club. People live in a big enough city, and are oblivious that they have a local team. A few just tried to give us directions to the rugby ground, even though we elaborated. How sad.

We circled College Grove for several minutes trying to find a place then, but everywhere around the ground was permit holders only, another reason why this club have to put in an orchestrated effort to push 100 through the turnstiles. The low point was when some prick in his car sideways across the road threatened us (not us, but the Universe) with death purely for being near.

The Wakefield ground consists of a nice, fairly weathered stand, a small terrace on either side of it, and a bit of tarpaulin. The tarpaulin bit probably has a grandiloquent name like the Arthur Horthmundthorpe Memorial Kop End Family Stand. It's next to a hockey pitch so both referee's whistles get mixed up. The noise was pretty good under the tarpaulin in the second half, but I didn't like getting wet. Yet again, the opposition played for time, the goalkeeper was crap and our Conference North-standard play was a bit problematic when Wakefield huddled together in the box like a youth team.

The city looks nice enough, but when a team undertakes the name of such a city, they need to be known. They deserve to be known. Well, not some of those players, but as a club they definitely do. They should sort out the badge for one, as I've no idea what it's meant to be. The programme was also the worst for content I've known; though I much enjoyed and appreciated the Terrace column towards the end, it was over after five minutes.

Sorry this one's a bit exasperated. The play is not much to worry about, but what we're doing with our efforts are. Two very disappointing conceded goals towards the ends in two away games this week; hopefully we'll return in the next few games.






Ground: 5/10
Pitch: 3/10 (full of divots and sloped)
On-pitch entertainment: 8/10
Ability to leave the area after the game: 7/10
Food: 7/10
Bias against Town factor: 7/10