FC United of Manchester 0 – 1 Halifax Town; 11/12/10.

FC United of Manchester 0 – 1 Halifax Town; 11/12/10.

It's a freezing Wednesday night at Gigg Lane and Football Club United of Manchester are playing the biggest game in their short history. They are contending with Brighton and Hove Albion in a replay of the second round of the FA Cup, having drawn at their place. Each opportunity in this cup is another cup final. Through the flares and dark cold a large banner billows as much as it can when its four corners are pinned to a barrier. "Making Friends Not Millionaires" is the maxim.

If FC United made millionaires in the way they make friends then they'd be staring liquidation in the face.

Us at FC Halifax Town have been rubbing our hands together for this one. Let's put it coyly: this isn't because we both have support that outnumbers all others in the league. Nah, we're just excited to have a game on after three weeks. With Aspin giving the boys a lot of running exercises at training as pitches in the Northern Premier League freeze over, maybe they want to do something more interactive also.

It's been another magical FA Cup run for a handful of clubs. Tipton Town took on Carlisle after getting through six rounds. Hythe Town likewise, bowing out to Hereford. Havant & Waterlooville got another good FA Cup deal for their money before falling to Droylsden, who threw away a 2–0 lead at Leyton Orient, the O's coming back in extra-time to net eight. Droylsden are one of the most central teams in Manchester, though not many professed City or United fans would recognise their name.

 

FC United did remarkably well, too. They got through five rounds. Even more remarkably still perhaps, they eclipsed all other tales of heady FA Cup dreams. They're out of it now of course after losing 4–0 on Wednesday, but they're not yet out of the relegation zones. A commentator during the Brighton game explained this may be down to "their style being unsuited for the Northern League." That's a bit like saying Ann Widdecombe isn't suited for the sexuality of the modern man.

The relation is this: Halifax Town never had a choice when we lost everything. With opaque staffing and declining performances we could only sit and spectate. The borough of Calderdale wasn't behind its club and still is antipathetic for the most part, so even when we rose from the ashes, a supporter-owned club was out of the question. We're lucky to have the most open management in years. We're lucky to have a large stadium that stands tall and in decent nick for one of the first times ever. And we're lucky to have a team and management team that put the time and effort into the club that we as fans do. So in this match, the biggest in the non-league this weekend, FC United were playing a team of similar support. That's what the neutrals came for still, but they stayed for the FC United story. On the other side of the halfway line stands a team representing a club once known as the worst in the league, and there isn't a team in this league who don't fear us as opposition. For those actually involved in the Evo-Stik Premier, we're the ones to watch. Rightly so, as even FC United, who despite achy legs put in one of their big efforts, failed to match up to a Town line-up, our excuses plentiful but aside.

Over to more pressing matters, an entourage of Shaymen rocketed over the Pennines for a bit of fun. Sources over here put it at 750, sources over there put it at 937, but for however many it was we were raring for another league game. Singing as we approached the turnstiles helped too. I gave the fella with the programmes £2 for a neatly laid-out but thin issue that could be devoured within five minutes with great respects to their community efforts. It should be noted that fans like him were cheerful and chatty. As many top FC United fans there are about, they're sadly eclipsed by the endlessly cocky and hostile sub-Leeds United nutters who soil a great (not far from perfect!) concept for club management. Notable in the programme is the charitable heart it places in of Greater Manchester. Our club isn't far off in this respect at all, but it creates FC United as a social conscience. I'd wager those who perspire for the club and its community work and those who make this a reason to be arrogant scumbags are two completely separate factions. All the best to the programme guys and the FC United fan who extended himself to offering me a lift for this game, and may they inherit their club over the worst sorts. True fans: masses of warm, firm handshakes and luck wishes.

 

FC United came out from the changing rooms as a nasty shock, and a departure from the eleven dry farts I saw at the Horsfall Stadium a few months ago. They forced an attack early on with a narrow miss, and missed out on a fuzzy penalty call as Liam Hogan and their Carlos Roca nearly collided. This was more like the FC United I saw on Sky against Rochdale and Brighton. They were up for it, but when they weren't attacking we were. Guaranteed. Garner laid on very nicely for Deano who skied it at close range a few minutes later. Following on from that, Scott Phelan hit the post. If the times Phelan hit the post and the times he scored were proportional to the area of the posts and the net itself, goalposts would be about two metres wide. He'll get them in soon enough.

Not the best but not the most worrisome showing for us in the first half, then. As Deano went off injured, a bit more bite came into our attack. Just as I remembered the words I'd been given: "FC United cannot deal with crosses into the box," Metcalfe did just that. The ultimate finishing move for a goalie is a deflection of a quick ball which came courtesy of Garner's head, and the ball sizzled in the right corner. The Cemetery End erupted and carried on at such a volume for a good while.

 

One goal's never enough though, especially in lower-league football. The ensuing 40 minutes were some of the most tense I've seen, and across the stand our very frequent chanting interchanged with much chewing of fingernails. We forced more attacks, but when we weren't setting some up they were. Their problems were getting caught offside too often and damn target practice. Ours were . . . target practice, I guess. Sometimes we're great at it, sometimes we're desperate. For a team susceptible to attacks on the wing we didn't do that all too often but if Vardy finished all his one-on-ones he'd be bringing the match ball home for sure. If it weren't 0–1, it'd be 3–4.

The final whistle blew, and three points were counted for the Shaymen, now six points in the lead. If Worksop win their games in hand they would be three points behind us. Beside which, we're simply admiring the view.

FC United of Manchester 0 – 1 Halifax Town; att. 2805

Programme: 5/10
Talent: one stewardess; a Town fan returned to get "searched" by her again

Non-partisan entertainment: 8/10  

Independent review

Burscough 0 – 2 Halifax Town; 05/10/10.

Burscough 0 – 2 Halifax Town; 05/10/10.

 

Another record of away travelling for me (Burscough must be 75 miles away from Leeds), at least for a Tuesday. But when the opportunity comes up I'm prepared to gamble on me being able to concentrate on a 9am Wednesday lecture for the lads. In the gathering dark, the car ignores all signs to Skelmersdale, and instead we're lead into a very surprisingly quaint land of poshly distressed brick, village shops, and coming up to Victoria Park, a row of trees decorated in white fairy lights. A Tesco (Tescough?) is open nextdoor, open until 10pm tonight so unhappy fans can quickly nip in to buy a six-pack of diabolical Fosters to forget about the past two hours. Other than the terraces lining two corners of the ground there are unlit fields and it feels as if Victoria Park sits on the corner of the flat earth.

 

The bar is pseudo-old timey and a comfortable place with warm Burscough fans who tend to be getting on a bit and draped with a green and white scarf. Scarves of clubs from across Europe cover up the walls. No real ale though, sadly. As we go over to the turnstiles, kids on BMXs start to congregate. Inside the ground is an elevated stand that seats over 200 on one side of the pitch, a terraced area opposite it and one behind the goal with a neat little pitched roof, but at the time of snapping it the local kids, being the loudest in the ground at the time, had made it their home. At the end of the main stand is the snack bar, accessible from a big white room on the inside too which gives it the appearance of a works canteen. The ground has an old-fashioned feel but is kept very tidily, with the grass to the left of the main stand kept at least as well trimmed as Ashton United's entire pitch. The chap at the club shop kindly gives me an Evo-Sticker for free to slap wherever I please and gives another Shayman a Farsley Celtic scarf for two quid.

 

Burscough unveil new plans for undersoil heating.

The first half was one of the most low-key ones yet. There were enough moves in the midfield to keep it interesting, Tom Baker in particular always going that bit extra to dispossess his man; the way he'll launch through them or dash to the other side is a rare phenomenon when done so often, and he in particular was responsible for keeping us safe from the league's lowest scorers. Similarly with both our plays and theirs, who were consistently good at closing down play but with no decent striker to boot. At the half-time whistle the worry was whether we'd be unable to crack them and a stray goal would steal the points from us.

 

And in the second half the Linnets did score. As soon as substitute Ashton Bayliss got a touch of the ball from an interception, he deftly flicked the ball and lobbed . . . his own keeper. I've no idea whether I've watched 100 or 500 football matches (professional, semi-professional), but I've never seen such a gift of an own goal. We went mental in the stand behind.

The onus was on us now we had a roof to bring out the acoustics of the Shaymen choir, as well as because the hordes of Burscough kids had decided to see if they could stir up anything. Unfortunately for them, they were (metaphorically) dragged by their ears to the side of the terrace by the stewards who formed a human wall that the kids nevertheless pressed up against, despite getting nowhere near any aggro throughout the match. Sad how things go, and props to the stewarding that came when it was needed, provided by B'cough-supporting volunteers. Could've used that stewarding when a similar amount of Clitheroe kids tried to attack me, etc. Not everything went unscathed however, as after a perfectly good-hearted post-match brick-throwing, one of the supporters' coach windows broke through. Under 16s are now only allowed into Victoria Park with an adult, a grim thing to have to impose on a struggling club, but the right amount of action.

Oh, then there was another goal. Garner took a corner kick and scored from it. Another new goalform for me to cross off and something I can't quite comprehend when watching the replays. Coming with just a few minutes left, it sealed a game that was bound to be low-scoring from far out of the Linnets' reach.

Notable banter:
Burscough kids: "We love you Burscough, we do!"
Town fan: "I've got an ASBO, for you!"

"Past your curfew, duh duh duh-duh!" (to Papa's Got a Brand New Pigbag)

"Children! What's the score? Children, children, what's the score?"

We need to pick on fans our own size.

Burscough 0 – 2 Halifax Town; att. 494
Ground: 7/10
Pitch: 8/10
Programme: 2/10 (Robbery at £2. In its entirety was nine paragraphs of content, and 14 pages of adverts on the trot)
Talent: 0/10
Non-partisan entertainment: 6/10