Guiseley 3 – 4 Halifax Town; 20/09/11.

Guiseley 3 – 4 Halifax Town; 20/09/11.

There's no better person to quote than myself, because otherwise who would quote me? "When we start playing well for once, it's going to feel mint."

I approached Nethermoor Park as you'd walk past a sleeping Rottweilier that only eats Town fans. A local kid slipped in with us, since his ticket would cost £1 in the company of an adult. After we got through the turnstile he joined a group, one of which shouted at us "You're gonna get battered tonight!" I made a bee-line to the bar and necked a tidy half pint of a Hebden Bridge bitter in time for the players to gather on a clean, slightly warped pitch.

What I heard next shocked me: Neil Aspin's father had passed away from cancer today. The teams lined up and bowed their heads for a minute's silence and the main stand spectators rose, and although by this point I wondered if there was a rational reason for us to stay, Aspin himself was still there by the dugout, showing the astounding resilience we would soon see from the players.

A minute in, Toulson gave it away and an attempt for the right-hand-side of the goal from Guiseley's Peter Davidson trickled through the hands of Eastwood, leaving us 1–0 down. A voice in my head said "9–0 FT."

Seven minutes in and the danger in Guiseley's eyes let's us have it again, with Gavin Rothery finding some space from a header to hit it high up and in. Two goals down and I still hadn't even found a good vantage point from which to shout.

I found my father at the other corner on the ground, who declared we'd lost already and we may as well do what we can until the final whistle. But 20 minutes had elapsed and we hadn't conceded a goal in a while, so was some momentum being picked up? Yes, we had a good amount of possession but were we to let Guiseley on the attack again it'd be safe to assume they'd score, knowing our red carpet of a defense. Your inner dreads as a fan though can be hidden deeper inside you if you encourage your team vocally: "Do it for Neil Aspin!" had to be the words to go by.

Soon, the Shaymen's heads raised up like Pez dispensers. Terry Dixon was to take a free kick from 20 yards instead of the usual from cap'n Tom Baker, and the wall-beating shot was converted from the rebound by Lee Gregory. We had begun playing with some fluency again and sent an early warning to Guiseley that their perfect home streak wasn't so safe. However, the Lions couldn't help but respond towards the end of the first half, and not too long after a looping header got palmed away by Eastwood, he couldn't stop a close-range diving header that Rothery nailed, while I snuck off to see a man about a dog, trying not to think of anything at all.

No, I'm not a professional sports photographer. Well spotted.

More match visuals taken hurriedly because I accidentally deleted all of the older stuff including two goals and me patting Danny Lowe's back in my fervour.

After their second and third, the Guiseley massive felt eager enough to vaguely chant their name a couple of times, and the next peek I heard of the home team's supporters was being told that we were the strongest side to come to Nethermoor so far this season. We were just worried that Town's courage had crumbled again and that another write-off was ahead. And bloody hell, were we given an unexpected treat!


As we kicked off I heard a "Going down, going down, going down!" chant directed at us from the other side of the ground. Must be this non-league grace and spirit we're always told about that teams like bankrolled Guiseley clearly have in abundance. Defiantly, the Shaymen of the second half were world beaters (ie. Conference North beaters). Our game flowed, our players communicated, and Guiseley's nappies got fully twisted over it. It was simply better than anything from the last five games. When Holland squared the ball to Terry Dixon, whose touch went in off defender Danny Ellis, a 3–2 scoreline felt pretty OK in and of itself. Four minutes later, Baker's corner ball reached the bowing head of Terry Dixon, and the loanee himself had opened his account finally, and deservedly.

We could then do it all. Route one was a possible, as were the flanks. Our defenders picked up the stray Guiseley counters and the entire team had grown a foot in height. After ten further minutes it was Dixon again who fed in a route one ball to Gregory. Greggers, as per, took ages with the ball inside the six-yard box: was he erring, or was he dancing with the ball to deceive the frankly petrified Guiseley defense? Either way it worked, thank god, and the feeling of us getting that 4–3 win, a three-goal gain within 15 minutes still feels stunning.

So, a confounded Guiseley kicked off for the final time in the evening, and a particular brand of classiness courtesy of substitute O'Neill's elbow floored Liam Hogan, and the former was shown the red card after six farcical minutes on the pitch. The remainder of the match was still tense but seen out well, and the eighth goal of the game was on our radar more often than theirs. It's always tense, when the three points are in sight.

Neutrals at the match would've found it fantastic, and the Shaymen certainly did. This was the Shaymen we'd seen under Aspin in the previous two seasons, a group of lads who celebrate with each other when they score and always have the goal in their collective mind. If we piece more of these results together, minus the activity at the other end of the pitch, it'll be alright. For now, our current squad have showed easy game is something we ain't.

P.S. I got a programme; a rather uncommon thing for me now considering the dross I spent 17 seconds reading at Evo-Stik level. It's a good 'un! Admittedly tinpot in design (see below) but high in content and effort and ultimately worth the asking price. Props also to the first history I've read of ourselves which wasn't copied off a dormant, semi-literate page on the official website, despite it only documenting two of our 100 seasons of footie. Canny.

Guiseley 3 – 4 Halifax Town; att. 897
Entertainment: 9/10
Ground: 5/10
Pitch: 7/10

I'm a happy Town fan.

Mossley 1 – 5 Halifax Town; 09/07/2011.

Mossley 1 – 5 Halifax Town; 09/07/2011.

I sympathise for Mossley80, but I need to clear that up. I don't mean that in a way of giving charidee to the more tinpot in our lives; it's he himself that makes out a life of following Mossley to be like fishing an endless clump of hair from the basin. Like me at times, it'll take him days after the event to muster the courage to write a match day report. Just a few days ago he surpassed himself by writing a report for the season's final game: over two months after the event itself. In his defense, it'd be impossible to describe the latter half of Mossley's 2010/11 season as anything but BLEAK, all facts in mind. What Mossley80 manages to do is paint in every shade of gray that was last season's Mossley experience with adroit skill that makes it read as both hilarious and tragic.

And though he didn't attend Saturday's match, Mossley80 missed what I'd say was a pre-season highlight. Pleasant weather, and a few points of interest on and off-field. Taking a place on the terraces was a friend of mine on tour from America, coming from Orange County to Mossley. What? He was impressed. Mistakes were made around the oh-so-confusing 2pm kick-off but little action was missed tbh, this being a friendly. 

The Lilywhites themselves have pride in their 100% record against the Shaymen at Seel Park. The only time we've been here as FC Halifax Town we lost an abject 3–1 on a cold night in Sept '08, newly-reformed and dressed in badgeless, plain-blue shirts and shorts. The Jim Vince team that never got on that night, and never would for the rest of the season. Today the sun shines, the Pennines are in full view, and Town are favourites for a third consecutive promotion into the Conference Premier. A contrasting "where are they now?" reunion. Though Seel Park looks fine in the sun, the greatest part of the ground has to be the Mossley squad's nude 2011 calendar on sale in the club shop. As tempting as it is, how many of the models have now left the club?

The furious face of concentration.

Mossley earns the award of being the first ever ground I've been to that offers a full vegetarian experience. Cheese & onion pies can be had, along with chunky chips and mushy peas that my O.C. pal mistook for guacamole. That's a substantial meal! (Shut up, it is.) A tasty one, too. Within the time it took to be eaten, goal number one came courtesy of none other than Jamie Vardy, clear with a short finish going downhill towards Mossley's oldie-but-goodie "Kop" end. After that, conveniently within the time it takes to lump a load of peas on your plastic fork, Mossley had a long-range free kick despatched by Joe Heap, an 18-year-old striker who proved prolific in Mossley's youth set-up. Within those two minutes, any scouts still voyeuristically peering at Vardy would've been completely distracted by the youngster's effort, a top corner effort that could suppress any pre-season yawn. 

We were impressed but weren't going to be happy to move into half-time level. A foul from Mossley's #2 made the player forget about any notion of "friendly" after which a skirmish ensued, Town fans getting a little fed-up with the referee who was seemingly showing his eighth-tier credentials. After a third foul went unpunished outside the area, the Mossley defense kicked out the ball only for it to reach an ambitious Danny Lowe, who drove it in from 30 yards. Whey.

 In-keeping with American football, half-time entertainment was observed. Willing to make the most of Mossley's 100th anniversary of playing at Seel Park, a dressed-up club representative took to the pitch to sing Nessun Dorma. Oh dear you may say, did he mime to a karaoke track? Was it tone-deaf screeching? Did the Tannoy decide to act up? None of the above—the man did a fine service to the song that none of the 300-strong crowd were ever going to appreciate. Trust me, it wasn't bad!

I'm not reliable enough to catch any match action, but at least I got a snap that demonstrates the pitch slope we sussed out.

The second-half finished 'em off without either team giving up the ghost. 3–1, 4–1, then 5–1, where a Lee Gregory header hit the bar and took advantage of the Mossley contours, bouncing home from a bump in the hallowed turf. We were set to make it six or more as the floodgates opened, but were happy to see an enthusiastic display from all involved bar a few dispirited gents in the Lilywhites' defence. Two leagues below us, Mossley may be the lowest-ranked team we'll play this year and there's nowt to be alarmed about so far.

Oh god, and one of those golden fan comments came visitin'. A few Shayman fans were getting wound up by the youthful, emaciated linesman ("linesboy") skipping down the touchline . . .

Fan: Teagan! Tell that linesman to do his job properly!

Fan's two kids, in unison: LINESMAN! DO YOUR JOB PROPERLYYY!

Indoctrination at its best.

The full-time whistle blowed and we were treated to a particularly maudlin ditty, Handbags and the Glad Rags by the Stereophonics, a worldwide ode to the discarded polystyrene teacup and chipped paint falling from old stands. Perhaps Mossley80 was here in spirit.

Mossley 1 – 5 Halifax Town

Entertainment: 7/10

Whitby Town 1 – 5 Halifax Town; 13/04/11.

Whitby Town 1 – 5 Halifax Town; 13/04/11.

My first shout out in a programme. Bright pastures ahead.

After a washout which stranded several hundred Shaymen in Whitby this February, it would've been more ideal if we could try again last Saturday, rather than midweek. Were we to have won the title here on a Saturday the turnout and resultant atmosphere would have been fantastic, but instead 250 Shaymen made a Wednesday night trip in search of three points we didn't even need. On the other hand, Whitby really needed this. Three points wouldn't've given them mathematical safety, but realistically that's all they need to stay up this season.

In my sad, cold life, bereft of all pleasures of the flesh, this 200-mile round trip is the longest I've done midweek. I await your applause. Setting off at 3pm I got a lift and spent a comfy half-hour over a Theakston's Best Bitter in the clubhouse in good Shayman company. Still reeling from the losses of the Whitby–FCHT fixture that was called off, the bloke at the turnstiles charged me for an adult price, despite qualifying as a concession. Cameron's Britain, eh. I picked up an enamel badge and found an atrocious old Whitby Town on Tour t-shirt designed poorly on Microsoft Word that I don't believe I didn't buy on the spot.

The main stand at Whitby is average-sized for this level but impressive and boasts a great view. After dribbling some mushy peas down my shirt and trousers however, I left for the terrace on the opposite touchline, also of a decent size. Behind the nets on either side is hard standing that opens up to housing behind. The pitch had made a marked improvement from its state during the washout, where a dozen seagulls were occupying some small pools in it, looking for lunch.

 

In the first 15, Whitby showed their desire, forcing Hedgey to draw out his land in the box. We kept up a resistance and Whitby 'keeper David Campbell made a decision suitable of someone twice his age when the 40-year-old walked out of the box with the ball, only for Danny Holland to intercept him and almost get a second touch which would've found the net. It was then Ibby Hassan who had his clearance blocked for Holland to take control of, and to cross it in for Greggers to despatch from a few yards out and open up the scoring. Few chances came between that and our second, a bouncing Holland header from a free-kick that outwitted the handful of Seasiders in the box. The game descended into pure merkage when Phelan showed quick feet to boot one into the uncovered top-right of the net from Tommy Ten Men's delivery. From five vague chances we'd been more clinical than ever and put the match away.

The second half came without grief. Lowe's shot was too hot for Campbell to handle, resulting in Greggers missing another of those hilarious open nets. Some hint of momentum then came when Whitby's top goalscorer Jimmy Beadle pushed a daisy-cutter past Hedgey from 15 yards at slo-mo speed. Six minutes later, following a facile decision from the ref', Tommy Ten Men fell in his box and subsequently pelted it into the top left corner to restore the three-goal margin at 4–1. Were that penalty a woman, it'd be someone juicy if a little vintage. Fiona Bruce perhaps. A Whitby midfielder yelped "We're being made to look small!" as we playfully ruffled their hair through the second half. Probably a bit late telling them that, pal. We made our Whitby league aggregate 10–2 as the match came to a close, Phelan rolling it in.

The cheers from the Halifax 'alf of the crowd were more of what you'd hear if we were thrashing Lincoln Moorlands Railway pre-season. Whitby had to find their points elsewhere, and since have done against rivals Mickey Mouse Sports and Ashton United. Good for them, a top town that deserves good rep, y'all. Despite intimidation from pockets of Whitby yoof, we made it home intact. Project 100 Points is very much on.

Whitby Town 1 – 5 Halifax Town; att. 491

Match: 7/10
Atmosphere: 2/10
Food: 6/10
Drink: 7/10
Clubhouse/bar: 8/10
People: 4/10
Programme: didn't get, but thanks for the shout, Goosey.
Town: 10/10
Ground: 8/10
Talent: 2/10
Overall day: 8/10

Kendal Town 2 – 4 Halifax Town; 26/03/11.

Kendal Town 2 – 4 Halifax Town; 26/03/11.

So, another one of those away trips for the whole family. But unlike Whitby, which was called off, and Buxton, which we roundly lost, let's do this one right.

Setting off at half 11 got us there for 1pm, before stopping off at the Ring O' Bells Free House near the ground, a no-nonsense pub with a true soul. Conveniently, this was also next to a record fair with all its Associates records going for £2 each, so I left with four of them. I'd made some profit from this away day already. Contrasting sounds rang from outside however, as a few groups of merry Shaymen sung on their way to The Lakeland Radio "Stadium." Arriving there just before kick-off I came through some turnstiles that overlooked the whole complex. The ground is dripping with character. A graveyard overlooks the ground, with housing on the other side. All four stands are painted black-and-white, two of which occupy the touchline straight ahead of me and could contain 200 or so each. The stand behind the goal to my immediate left is set out with steps like a coliseum's; one side of it has a few rows of seats sheltered with the smallest of roofs a few metres above. This roof operates as an awning for the clubhouse overlooking the stand and ground, so mentally weaker "fans" could stay inside and half-watch the England game. On the opposite touchline is a very small black-and-white terraced stand,  succeeded by some long grass banking which on a day like this accommodated a few hundred mingling supporters of the two Towns. Behind the goal at the very end the Lakeland Radio "Stadium" runs out of character. 'Sall hard standing. A complex set-up, but the main plus however is the at-one-with-nature style toilets you get!

 As I descend the steps and take my place, the 891-strong crowd stops to perfectly observe a minute's silence in memory of our assistant manager Trevor Storton, the man who made his name one of legends at Chester City, Park Avenue and finally Halifax Town in the short remainder of his life. Our players had printed out a set of shirts in his memory and hat-trick hero Vardy had his match ball signed by the team and sent to his family. The whistle then went, and a drunken dozen of Town fans on the coliseum steps attempted to chant when they'd lost all sense of rhythm. They were armed with one of the golden cats you find at Chinese takeaways, and a kazoo through which Maff made a phenomenal impression of the atrocious state of the Tannoy system at the Shay: "Today's official attendance ladies and gentlemen—mththmthththtmhtmtmthnm!"

The positivity around the ground got to Danny Lowe, who went further than his position required to slam one in out of the grasp of the Kendal 'keeper. All Shaymen's eyes were smiling, and we sung "There's only one Trevor Storton." Goals were definitely going to come at this match when both teams were fully focused, the pitch's width allowing for wing action, and its surface good enough to play balls on the deck although we were winning headers from the first minute. Danny Holland carried a presence during this half, but he remained absent from the scoresheet. Rough 'n tumbles in our own area earned Kendal a penalty which went off the post and in. Kendal's firepower continued as much as ours, with a powerful shot of theirs just about missing the middle left of Hedge's net. At half-time the Towns were drawing and England were 2–0 up. Lampard and Bent had surpassed themselves by scoring the most boring goals possible for a bunch of world-class millionaires.

After a half-time of watching said "highlights," and watching a few Shaymen gather around Deano in the clubhouse shouting "DEANO, DEANO, DEANO" followed by "YORKSHIRE, YORKSHIRE, YORKSHIRE" and "WE HATE BURNLEY AND WE HATE BURNLEY" (sadly Deano's team of choice), the Shaymen were back on the pitch. The half started a little worryingly as ball control just wasn't happening against an eager Kendal side, but Lee Gregory's move to the right wing gave him an opportunity to cross it into the area in the 54th minute, which met Vardy's own pace faster than the goalie's and the thing went bang in off his head. What followed were a series of Town attacks, including a one-on-one with Lee Gregory, which the Kendal keeper did well to take from his feet. The next goal came at the other side however, a suspected handball and a lack of tackling enough for Kendal substitute Carl Osman to move into space and shoot the goal of the game from the corner of the box to the opposite corner of the net. He'd made it 2–2 after 79 minutes, and the Shaymen would have to dig up a little character again to come back.

Kendal's plans were thwarted within the next couple of minutes by Danny Holland's pass that weaved between the defenders, leaving Vardy to net the top corner before the 'keeper could get to him. Soon after Vardy delivered a firm "never again" to Kendal, their number two clearing the ball the wrong way which went straight to Vardy's feet, his left-footed first-touch going straight through Kendal's beleaguered goalie and into the back of the net. With greedier Town fans pressing the Shaymen for a fifth the ref announced ceasefire and the young steward in charge of the scoreboard wiped some sweat from his brow.

It is now possible for the Shaymen to have the title by Saturday. Get down to the Shay for then and make some noise.

Kendal Town 2 – 4 Halifax Town; att. 891

Ground: 9/10 (probably falls to 6/10 in the rain)

Pitch: 7/10
Programme: 7/10
Talent: N/A
Entertainment: 8/10
Food: N/A

Halifax Town 3 – 2 Chasetown; 22/03/11.

Halifax Town 3 – 2 Chasetown; 22/03/11.

Some games really do remind me why I'm here in the first place. Some games only do this in the final minute of normal time. And some of these games look like nothing worth remembering would ever come from them until they're on the verge of waving all the effort, time and money you've dissipated over the years towards football games in front of you while laughing and pointing.

 Baker having a shot. He had a good game as per, but this one got immediately blocked.

There was nothing to report on in the first half of this game. As for shots there may have been one, maybe two, maybe a bit more than that, but nothing close to testing on either side. Just a void of non-football you'd more likely expect if you spent 15 hours of minimum wage money on 90 minutes at Stamford Bridge or Wastelands. The most interesting thing of the half was a mad old man shouting incomprehensibly from the top of the South Stand, and you see those types around Halifax all the time anyway.

Then, after a similar 45th–70th minute stretch, Ben Jevons made it by striking past his men and past Hedgey into the net. Chasetown were winning. Sadly, our play wasn't looking too good before or after this goal, or at least not so much until Vardy turned at speed during a goalmouth scramble to put the ball away. This was in the 84th minute, and it was this minute that the adrenaline started flowing through every last tissue in every Shayman's body. We brought up the choking clutch and sped off. We became a full attacking force, and shortly afterwards a Liam Hogan 35-yarder shot just over like a practising army pilot would skim a green hill at supersonic speed. And Vardy got his second: the classic 'keeper-off-his-line cross. The sound was unbelievable, and they echoed across the Shay right up until the rotund Gary Birch did precisely what Vardy had just done at the other end. It was the Chase faithful's turn to go crackers.

Lift your Shaymen fists like antennas to heaven.

And then. Following a few attempts to move forward by the Scholars, we managed to boot it up field. The ball inevitably got to Jamie Vardy amongst the hordes lining the outside of the Chasetown box. Vardy left three of their defenders standing in his effortless way and blasted it into the top fucking corner. 93 minutes in. A nine minute hat-trick. AFTER being chosen the man of the match. Nine minutes to change a match report I dreaded writing up into one that exhilarates me to write up.

That night, Doncaster Rovers offered £10k for the man who made the difference from this scoreline being 0–2 to it being 3–2. You can guess how we responded.

Halifax Town 3 – 2 Chasetown; att. 1353.

Entertainment: 0/10 for first 70, 10/10 for final 10.

Hucknall Town 1 – 2 Halifax Town; 19/03/11.

Hucknall Town 1 – 2 Halifax Town; 19/03/11.

 

With eleven games to go, consensus was only winning five or so of these would edge us the title. Out of these we were yet to play games against Hucknall, Ossett, Retford, Mickleover and Whitby. Boxes well and truly ticked, hopefully. Today, the box in question was Hucknall, a suburban town hovering above Nottingham that held host to Conference North football in the past decade. Third bottom at the moment, if they don't buck their ideas up this will be NPL1 football this autumn. Swings and roundabouts I suppose, as in the '90s they climbed two tiers from the Northern Counties East League to the NPL under John Ramshaw.

 

Bit of thumb in the way there.

Making decent time we stopped in Linby, a midland village looking idyllic in spring's first t-shirt weather. After a gorgeous small platter of onion rings, breaded mushrooms and chips we easily found Hucknall's Watnall Road ground, unprepared for one of the most berserk jobsworth experiences of my lifetime . . .

You see, today my father paid for me to get in. After drinks in Linby I had to see a man about a dog and walked to the side of the ground where the clubhouse was to relieved myself there. When I tried to go back out again there appeared two old Hucknall types demanding my brother and I show them our tickets for the ground. Since my dad had let us in, he had the tickets and was out of sight. Fortunately, being the sad act I am, I'd taken a picture of the Hucknall team warming up on my phone from inside the ground and showed it these jobsworths, but they were having none of it. We paced around trying to find someone to call our dad for ten minutes, before walking out of the ground and round to the turnstiles where we went through. They wouldn't let us through either as we didn't have tickets, but by chance my father happened to walk by.

These daft little men were unsympathetic and the turnstile guy said to us "To get into the ground, you must have a ticket. Simple." I'd no idea we even were issued tickets for this match. We've only needed to do this before at Sludgeheap Victoria. How dare I go to the clubhouse for a wee when I was none the wiser! Sick of the patronising tone these chumps had given me, I told them in no simpler words that we were never told to have tickets on us at all times, and that I hope Hucknall get relegated. Not something I truly believe about any club in itself (bar the likes of the MK Dons), but if these Little Hitlers give me a kick up the backside, I'll give them one back! I walked off a proud man as he shouted, "YOU WOT!" back and the players took their positions on the pitch.

After fighting the jobsworths and winning we watched the Shaymen get off to a fine start, resulting in one of those precision headers that made time slow down courtesy of Lee Gregory. Hucknall had a fat 'keeper known as Ross who had his WAGs accompany him behind the goal, so would turn around often and get stick from our fans. He'd retort with great banter and a cheeky grin. A far cry from the Buxton goalie last week and I found him a welcome presence! The moment of the match came when he chided his defense with a cry of "Boys, boys, boys!" which got a couple of drunken Shaymen fans chanting back Lady Gaga's "Boys, boys, boys! / We like boys in ca-haaars" lyric for a few minutes. It's the sort of thing that makes you weep with joy. Soon after we were awarded another penalty, but for the first time ever Baker failed to whip it in, and it went straight into Ross' hands! We continued to go forward, as did Hucknall at times, but in general took too many touches on the ball and had more than our fair share of just-over shots. Half-time came after what felt like 20 minutes, and the job had been done so far.

Playing against the sun in the second half we paid for our not-so-clinical play. Fabian Smith broke free at the other side of the pitch and slotted it past Hedge while I wondered why I thought we could just quickly score another and wrap the game up. The goalie cheered up even more, and suddenly a mediocre game became quite frustrating. Their defense wasn't so much good as our control was poor. As things were beginning to look grim, a second Lee Gregory precision header came at the 85th minute and restored our lead. 2–1. Ross slowly turned to pick the ball from the corner of the net and suddenly looked glum, and to tell the truth, I'd learned to feel for this man! As the match went on their blond number 8 became increasingly aggressive. In fact towards the end I think it was he who got one of our players like a pair of scissors in his legs by the touchline. The referee blew and the two players started to come to blows but it turned out he was blowing for full-time. And after all that, phew!

Hucknall 'keeper: good with banter, good bloke.

One thing I was told to note by a Shayman was the tea hut prices here. £3.50 for a cheeseburger. £2.50 for chips. Michelin star prices for non-league food! Genuinely sub-EMC. Fans must eat BEFORE going to Watnall Road. And make sure they have tickets to present at the gates!

Hucknall's is a bogstandard, one-storey ground in need of a lick of paint. Due to its low stands there aren't the sorts of vantage points I'd go for. Its "official" capacity stands at 5,000 however, which means it's bigger than Crawley's, so maybe I'm just being a snob. The car park however was in a state of extreme neglect, and covered in broken glass, which was dangerous both for feet and tyres and simply unacceptable. Neither character nor convenience I guess and the pitch was one that required a little ball control, but edging it against a team who were finally up for turning their fortunes around is what will be remembered. Oh, and the petulance of the jobsworths. Mostly a dull match though, but an interesting away day.

 

Hucknall Town 1 – 2 Halifax Town; att. 527

Ground: 3/10

Pitch: 4/10
Programme: 4/10
Talent: 3/10
Entertainment: 4/10
Food: priced out!

Buxton 2 – 1 Halifax Town; 12/03/11.

Buxton 2 – 1 Halifax Town; 12/03/11.

 

Arcadia.

I was going to write a report on this match but felt like extracting the pus from this ingrown toenail of mine instead. Anyway, that's now out of the way, and I have literally no choice but to scribble down this weekend's away day.

Champions versus play-off contenders. No suggestions of a six-pointer however, but one of the tougher matches. And, as the scoreline would suggest, they gave it their all, and we gave it a third at best. Maybe a quarter or a fifth even.

 

 The Bucks do the hokey-cokey.

A goal in the first half would've been good. And of course, the first half is the time that we usually like to spend scoring less goals then the second half, if that makes any sense. The pitch had retained its grass, but could've possibly operated as a motocross dirt-jumping track if it hadn't. The ball would bounce randomly, halfway between a flyaway ball and a rugby ball, and it was a form of football Buxton were better versed in. Débutant Lee Ellington showed presence in the box but even when we got close we seemed not to shoot. Gone was the go-getting Town we see most of the time, in a time of need.

 

Top ground, shame about the result.

We got a penalty that Baker obviously dispatched even though he appeared nervous, and then a newbie of theirs who I'm told was taken from the local leagues smashed two short-rangers in with quick succession. And that was it. Yes, they were better. They were up for it and little came in their way as they turned around to beat us. I'm erasing the particulars from my mind, apart from the ones worth remembering. These were Buxton's ground, one of the best, overlooking hills and of a nice Conference North standard. The main stand is ample, along with the small stand running right down the opposite touchline, and the terracing at one side also has a decent view. The plastic fork given for my pasty was posh and thick (like David Cameron hurr hurr) which would penetrate any tough crust. The pitch is worth forgetting about as despite being very well-cut it needs a little flattening. As was the Tory advertisement on the hoardings (yuck).

A note on tinpot gallantry though. I only managed to articulate this while having a burger and chips at a takeaway on Monday. Inside the Buxton clubhouse was champagne on Saturday, and the chairman/manager/whatever leapt onto the pitch at full-time to gyrate and stoke the anger of our fans. I wouldn't mind it if, while were at this level, teams could have more grace. Chasetown had grace. Raccy Borough had grace. Some teams just really Cup-Final out. Maybe it feels like that, but often they gloat like all hell. While we are at this level, I'd like it for Halifax Town to be seen as of this level. Otherwise it ingrains a feeling that we're playing tons of FA Cup 1st Rounds/4th Qualifying Rounds against lower league teams on good cup runs, and it makes following Town at this level feel like an annoying weight to drag along. It dresses us up before mocking us for it. I'm not sure if I'm articulating this as well as I did the other night! I could possibly be an odd-fan-out for thinking this way, but I'd just prefer to get along, enjoy the character of many of these places, and while we're in these leagues I want something chummier than the fans vs. opposition fans element we sometimes get, which should be kept inside ultra-moneyed League football before eventually suffocating. Not sure if anyone is following me at this point or even reading this, but it's an encumbrance. There are many reasons for me to believe that if I spend the rest of my life following the Shaymen, that I'd look back to these as the halcyon seasons.

Buxton 2 – 1 Halifax Town; att. 803

Ground: 8/10

Pitch: 5/10
Programme: haven't read yet!
Talent: 4/10
Food: 6/10 (too little of it)
Independent match report - European Football Weekends

Guiseley 3 – 1 Halifax Town; 09/03/11.

Guiseley 3 – 1 Halifax Town; 09/03/11.

Last night's match saw Town in a semi-final. Ooh, a semi-final! And not just any semi-final, the West Riding County Challenege Cup semi-final!

*looks around to see the room suddenly deserted, one single bar stool swivelling on its own*

I can't blame everyone for leaving the room at that point. Neil Aspin himself had no will to attend the match, so instead we had Lee Nogan acting as an auxiliary manager. Aspin was off to watch how Marshall was getting on at Harrogate Town on loan, while I'm sure Nogan was eyeing up the better Guiseley players. Guiseley had just one of their players out from Saturday, when they lost 3–0 at home to Telford United, ex-Shayman Danny Forrest being unlucky enough not to play in such a prestigious cup match. On the other hand, this was an opportunity for us to start with five youngsters, so things weren't looking good for a Valley Parade cup final from the off.

Kicking off, a subtly curved and sandy Guiseley pitch proved a much better playing surface than the one at Harrogate Railway, and the game had all the pace you'd want from a Mickey Mouse cup match. After 20 minutes, resulting from an accidental handball, Scott Phelan got a penalty after winning a paper-rock-scissors with the forwards, and sent the 'keeper the wrong way. 0–1 Town. In the first half Guiseley were the better side however. Following an extremely good shot that just went over Phil Senior's bar, Darryn "Second Class" Stamp did what he never did for us, and slipped a daisy-cutter into the net. 1–1. The cold came in and we found ourselves outmuscled, Metcalfe failing to terrorise ex-Townite Toulson and 'keeper Drench willing to leave his net for balls we couldn't reach.

Young'in Callum Mead pulled on the number 14 jersey in the second half and played an intrinsic part in balancing out the game. On several occasions he'd beat their defense but never got the finishing touch. The shot power/shot accuracy section on his Top Trump card will for now have a question mark beside it, but he was the standout youth player for us last night. Their defense was almost worked out, and if we had Gregory up front as well a shot may have found the net. Something that didn't help was the ref' calling several offsides. In fact, he gave us barely anything as Guiseley managed to bruise us off the pitch. A few unnecessary yellows. This was the same ref' that ruined it all for us at Park Ave when he failed to discipline a Bradford team that took advantage of the fact, and last night he gave two more penalties, this time for Guiseley, and both times, unwarranted. The first was two powerful for Senior, and the second killed the game off in the final minutes and sent him the wrong way, following the cleanest tackle you'd ever see. Very poor showing from a ref' that seems to have an agenda. Aaanyway, an equaliser for us before the third penalty of the night would've probably meant extra time, and no-one needs that. The Guiseley fans that bothered turning up celebrated like it was a league win for them. We didn't mind getting knocked out, but it could've been a fair knockout and it didn't have to cost £9 for admission. They should be just slightly worried that their first team couldn't defeat our weakened team.

I've seen the ground described as making Farsley Celtic look like Camp Nou. It's really not that bad, just not up to the standard at which Guiseley see themselves. It's a tidy-looking venue with a great but small clubhouse and they don't even sell chips. Two small terraces either side of one touchline, and a small stand opposite. Next season this ground will need to accommodate at least 1000 for our visit, and it'll be tough even if they get this new stand built. The cold and rain didn't help matters in the second half for this spectator having not brought my coat along, but I found a Tonbridge Angels scarf in the club shop for £1 (my god I'm weird). It exacerbated my cold but after guzzling some Paracetamol I woke up feeling good enough to get to university, where I fortunately don't study journalism.

Guiseley AFC 3 – 1 Halifax Town; att. 235

Ground: 6/10

Pitch: 6/10
Programme: no point
Talent: don't know why I bother
Food: please sell some

Halifax Town 1 – 0 Ashton United; 05/03/11.

Halifax Town 1 – 0 Ashton United; 05/03/11.

 

So, we won a guest box in the Christmas draw. It was initially set for the Frickley and Nantwich dates, which were both called off. Luckily, there wasn't a single postponement to be found this weekend from step 1 right down to 6, which meant a trip for us up the East Stand and into a new astral plane full of that certain elite who work directly for the Shaymen or are the players themselves. We broke open some Hebden Bridge ale and watched from the best vantage points in the ground. To show how down with the oiks we are, lunch was Holland's pies, peas and chips. Taking the prawn sarnie ethos right down to the letter is one thing that mustn't be allowed.

 

Ashton was an appropriate one for us, as I've got Ashton blood. The blood doesn't run far enough however, for me to sympathise one bit with Ashton United, née Hurst FC, who were here purely for us to make another three points. Like a prudish data-processor being invited by his rowdy pals to a lap dancing club, Ashton made it their job to keep a draw for as long as possible, as the data-processor in this poor analogy would cover up his arousal. Yes, opposition teams have to cover up sheer carnal arousal when watching us play our game.

 

Phelan tries to find an option.

I say this with little regard for the tedium in the first half. I couldn't adjust to the fact I'd watched half a match worth of football when the half-time whistle went. What can be said? We have plenty of first halves like these. Footballer's block, I'd call it. We weren't threatened, but we lacked our own touch. The East Stand takes from the Skircoat stand opposite it and stands quiet spare the odd moan. Even our best touches only warrant applause from a select few there, most fans happy to keep their hands in their pockets, fiddling at all the fluff inside them. Garner had a stinker surprisingly, and got subbed halfway through. His easily-saved free kick was one of the few chances. The real chance of the half came near the end when Vardy had a blocked shot which the 'keeper then scuffed, leaving it almost free to Vardy again were it not for brave Ashton defending.

 

 

The second half obviously saw us pick up, so the Robins stepped up. Except their way of doing this was by putting nine players in their box. Tom Baker commented that as a centre midfielder he'd never been in a match like it, totally lacking in ideas for where to feed the ball. The fans' encouragement grew and a close chance came when Phelan circled the outside of the box for space, before whacking it for the goalie to put it out for a corner. Time fell through our open fingers though, and despite having most possession and keeping in their half, there weren't so many close chances. The tempo really picked up towards the end and after a few rapid attempts of finding blue shirts in the box, Hogan fired a rapid cross in which Vardy sprinted for, like a 100mph cheetah frustrated at still not being as fast as he would like to be breaking through his skin and entering a completely new spiritual dimension. Joy resonated across Halifax, the players rushed into one corner of the pitch with glee, and the nine Ashton players acting as defense saw their plans gutted.

 

 

Various attacks.

The Robins had almost got their draw, but now they'd let one goal in with 89 minutes on the clock, there was little hope. Their game plan had been lacerated. Two strikers came on for them and mustered a feeble attack, before we attempted a counter attack in return. With little time added on, the ref blew and I was buzzing. Not since the FC United games have goals felt as good. We didn't "nick" it so much as deserve it, and making it 1–0 late on lifted everyone's confidence.

Post-match I found that Bury had won 3–0 at Hereford, putting the Shakers second. We got a programme signed too, though Scott Phelan's signature is highly disturbing: a few squiggles around his name. Can he even write? At least he can play.

Halifax Town 1 – 0 Ashton United; att. 1648
Entertainment: 2/10 first half, 8/10 second.