FA Vase Second Round
Congleton Town 0 Shildon 2
Attendance: 237
Admission: £6
Programme: £1.20p
Tea hut purchases: Tea 60p, Steak & kidney pie £1.50p
Weather: Late sun and the odd second half shower
Parking: Roadside, five minutes walk, easy getaway
I'm driving through Cheshire an hour and a half before kick-off.Rain, torrential really heavy rain and a deep grey sky.
Car headlights and half flooded roads.
Not good, another terrible Saturday.
I reach Congleton and decide to stay put in the car.
At 2.30 the rain eases and a chink of light splits the lead-dead sky.
I hand over my 5 quid at the turnstile.
"Its 6 pounds to get in here" says the flat cap.
I'm certainly not paying extra for the facilities.
The ground is the grimmest yet.
I'd seen the 2 north east mini buses on the entrance to the gate.
The Shildon-trippers are drinking up the stock of the clubhouse bar.
This grounds only toilet is packed full of punters, all bursting on pints.
Two traps and no locks and the queues out the door.Glad to return to the fresh air near the pitch.
Sodden sparse turf is swamping with mud.
A squish-squash warm up but the pitch holds firm.
Its time for the tea hut to cheer up my frown.
Programme perusal in my place in the line,
I'd never seen one with a look like this!
A nice glossy cover but the thing has a hole.
You can't put a hole in a programme cover!
It looks more like a birthday card than a match publication.
I order my tea and I ask for a pie but the pies are all burned.
Its one of those cardboard hot ones with nothing inside.20 minutes later it can just about be eaten but I leave all the crust.
My brolly has already slipped over knocking all the tea spilling.
My walk around the ground is blocked by a big mound of rubble.
A young lad climbs, slips and gets over the pile.
Builders waste and remnants cut the path behind the far touchline.
Perhaps the extra quid gate money is for this adventure playground?
Locals grumble about the Congleton form.Still second in the NWC league but they've not won in five.
Shildon are Northern League mid-table.
Rumour has it Shildons best players are out of contention.
Out come the hordes from the booze buster bar.
All cocky and loud and full of warm ale.
It takes ten minutes to tell the difference in class.
Shildon push forward and their passes find feet.2 first half goals are presented for effort.
The visitors look home-free for keeps.
Half time resentment and Teds had enough.
Ted won't pay for losers, no matter where.
The Shildon expedition force arrive back from their beer-break
3 quick pints and a pack of cheesy crisps.
Second halfs a done-deal as the visitors rest up.
A Congleton shot threatens a nearby greenhouse.
The wind blows it back.
Teds gone before the last quarter as the home flock mumble.
The wolf will go home with the lamb to the slaughter.
The mini bus driver for County Durham is warming the engine.
Thats when they get them out of that bar?
The slate grey sky got darker and wetter as the afternoon progressed, the kick and hope football got looser and dafter to match it. It was 15 minutes before either side had a shot, if you can call a 'bobbler' rolling towards the corner flag a shot? If 2 passes got joined up it was a highlight, this was turgid pap at its peak. At least some entertainment was put on by the travelling band of Steels supporters, their endless repertoire of blunt Northern ditties echoed across the sodden terraces as their centre half sent another ball zooming out of the ground. How nice to hear the traditional White Rose classic: Yorkshire Yorkshire Yorkshire belting out (time and time again), when its placed alongside that other family-favourite: Lancashire, wink, w*nk, wonk you can perhaps get an idea what a rewarding experience this sub-zero jolly was turning out to be. Fine football and fine company, a pleasure indeed, all that was missing was a selection from the cheeseboard. If the tea hut had done a line in ear-plugs rather than cheap packet chips and cardboard pies, they'd have made a killing!
I decided to sit in the main stand in the second half as yet more icy rain fell upon the 'die-hards' propping up the stanchions on the terraces of doom. It was only a small stand but it certainly boasted a large number of pillars and side wall obstructions. These blended in perfectly with the large protruding white dug-outs that complimented the poor visual planning for the odd passing spectator. Whoever designed the 'potential' benefits of getting a decent view from this side of the ground must have had a wicked sense of humour or they were simply rubbish at realising that people would only see a restricted part of the pitch!
The rain, the cold and the rank-bad football on offer was not helping my mood, perhaps a tad of this emotion has sneaked into this visit report, my apology if this is the case but this was a truly pathetic days entertainment and one I will gladly forget. Not a very good advert for the UniBond Premier League, at least Stocksbridge got a goal, which in turn proved pretty easy to protect, their spirit in seeing the game out suggests they could have better days and perhaps be in some contention later in the season. As for Ashton, I unfortunately have to report that on this showing, they wont be top of the league for long. They seemed clueless in producing any momentum when they had the ball and to rely on desperate second half 40 yard pokes at goal suggests a lack of tactical astuteness? Perhaps I caught them on an off day, perhaps they will prove me wrong? I was thankful for the final whistle.
Both Trinity and City certainly needed something from the game and it was pleasantly evident from kick-off that they both fancied the win. For 15 minutes there was a lot of huffing and puffing, probing and shuffling but sadly little reward. Unfortunately this initial period set the tone for the rest of the game. It was all a bit scrappy, disjointed and fragmented. A few chances came and went but not many, it was easy to see why the crowds hadn't been flocking in and why Peter Swann and Brian Little may have a tough job to sell the new prototype of entertaining afternoons and lofty league positions. As for Gloucester, they looked a bit inhibited at times, they seemed to give too much respect to the home side and this often witnessed them snatching at first options rather than setting the stall out and providing some quality, edge and depth.
All credit to their hardy bunch of loyal supporters who had made a mega long cross-country trip for little entertaining reward. At least there was a well stocked Tea Hut on the ground for them. I saw a good many of the City fans tucking into the Pukka Pie, Chips and Pea's special all for £3 cash. As I was under strict orders to stick to my tinned-salmon sandwiches I could only watch in covetous envy.
As the sun dropped the more of the coal fires seemed to start up, there was a distinct old fashioned aroma of smoky winter days from years ago swirling around the ground, I think I was the only person to notice it, perhaps its just whats normal in Gainsborough? The second half saw little change from the first, both sides fluffed a couple of nailed on chances until Trinity's Mark Hudson found himself in lots of space on the edge of the box, he took the ball forward, snatched at it but still just about got it on target, it hit the inside of the post and eventually bobbled over the line, 1-0 to Trinity! I had a feeling Gloucester would not have the know-how and creativity to mount a serious fightback and that was the case, they had a lot more possession of the ball but they simply failed to generate serious goal scoring opportunities. Ultimately, this was a game that had first goal wins written all over it. As I walked past the Tea Hut with only a few minutes left they still had a few Pukka Pies left in the warming tray, boy was I tempted but I held my nerve and carried on walking, I was having an Indian Takeaway when I got home and I didn't want to spoil my hunger, you've got to be really starving to finish off two trays of Chicken Dansak and a Karahi.
Tremendously charismatic stands and various covered terraces, a homely brightly lit tea hut, decent friendly people, there is even a 1 in 4 slope at one corner of the ground (well not quite 1 in 4 but the slope is significant), all excellent stuff and I found it a jolly good place to visit. I had a walk around the ground, even managing to lose Glenn and his new shoes for a while and I predictably ended up at the tea hut which had the fantastic title of 'Blues Grub Tub' emblazoned across it.
There was already a good number of people tucking into some steaming pies and even though I had put away a decent sized evening meal before I left home I found myself asking the Tea Hut lady for a lightly baked steak pie. I enquired of its origins? Tea Hut lady told me it was from the famous Clayton Park Bakery and many folk reckoned these pies to be the very best in the entire UniBond League. Wow! Gosh it was a hot one, I had to stave off my greed for nearly ten minutes before I could eat it. Unfortunately I had to disagree with Tea Hut ladies glowing reference for the pie, I found the filling lacking on meat and a bit too runny with gravy. My pie of the season 'front runner' still remains the steak pie from Glossop North End.
Both Clitheroe and the visitors, Woodley Sports are currently in the lower reaches of the UniBond Division 1 North, both sides had struggled to put the ball in the net and this match was already looking a six pointer. Travelling support from Woodley was minimal, it seemed to consist of just 4 lads (my apologies if others were there). The lads provided excellent support for their side throughout the whole 90 minutes by endlessly singing and shouting encouragement.
The match itself was really very entertaining and I've never been to a game with so many missed chances, fluffed sitters and tremendous goal saving clearances, it had everything.... apart from goals! Clitheroe had three quarters of the chances to run up a cricket score but Woodley should have also put 4 or 5 in the net, particularly poor Gavin Salmon the respected Woodley striker who put one of the easiest tap-ins wide you could ever see outside a 'jumpers for goalposts' encounter. Poor Gavin would surely have won the match for Woodley as his mind-boggling miss came with the scores still at 0-0 and only minutes remaining. This was my 31st game of the season and not one, up to now, had ended goal-less, I was pleading for one to go in (from either side) as we entered 4 minutes of injury time. Again chances still came and went and then finally, gloriously in the 4th minute of added time Clitheroe got the all important goal to end a fantastic finale of a wonderful match, ten seconds later the referee Mr I Siddall of Bolton (the best referee I've seen this season) blew his whistle to send Clitheroe fans into dreamland. Everybody was laughing and smiling at the outcome..... apart from the 4 lads from Woodley. Spare a thought for the exhausted ball boy who collapsed in a heap as the players trooped off to the dressing rooms. This hero in an oversized Hi Visibility Vest had been fetching sky bound miss-hit shots back from the gardens, nearby ponds and side streets of Clitheroe for over an hour and a half. He just couldn't take any more.
Potential growth currently equals zilch. There were 46 people at todays match, will the piggy bank extend to putting a catering operation on for greedy floaters like me? They would also have been lucky to shift 20 programmes, at a quid a copy that means somebody has to write it, print it and stand there selling it just for 20 pounds return (and no, there is not a lot of advertising revenue in it). Rather than moaning how lacking in content the programme is, perhaps we should be thankful that one of the few helpers has found time amongst everything else that needs doing to actually get one out on sale at all?
I digress, on a well known non-league football forum recently there was a popular multiple page thread asking what was the most depressing ground, people responded in droves and lots of undeserving clubs got named? Rather than kick clubs struggling to survive should we not support them and take the positives out of them purely remaining in the league and being there? There is no such thing as a depressing football ground, take each stadium (or pitch) on what you find and enjoy the experience. This is what the approach should be for Flixton and I wish them every bit of luck in progressing their club on and off the pitch.
I was still in plenty of time to watch locals ordering plastic pots of ploppy peas from the tea hut, wow! This was either a sign that hard times really had hit home, with the poor locals unable to afford a pie or chips with their peas, or more likely, it was some weird South Derbyshire custom to improve regular bowel movements. I witnessed 3 kids and 2 old blokes buy this treat in the ten minutes I stood near the tea hut, they had even put plastic spoons out for them, as soon as they grabbed their pea pot, they'd grab a spoon and scuttle off down the side of the hut to shovel down the gloopy green mush. I like mushy peas but not in bulk and not on their own?
This match certainly lived up to its billing as one of the Conference Norths games of the day. It had everything, rampant no-holds-barred attacking from the visitors, gutsy determination from the young home side, a sending off, penalties, top class goalkeeping and a deranged referee slowly going insane as he gradually lost the plot. Northwich should have won by at least a couple of goals but all credit to 10 man Ilkeston for fighting like hell to keep in the game. I would not bet against Northwich being right up there come the end of the season and that is despite their ten point deduction for going into administration. They played some top football even before the sending off.
Nice to see a decent Northwich following at the game, some probably enjoying a nice stand seat next to the halfway line for £5 cheaper than at their home ground (shame on Northwich for £14 seats in the Conference North). All credit to Ilkeston, I liked the ground, it was tidy, offered good viewing, had some character and everybody seemed pretty friendly. They offer up a good quality programme as well. I reckon most people enjoyed the match today, apart from those suffering the emerging effects of those potted peas. I headed back north hearing reports on the radio that Forest were beating Newcastle United, shame all that ale had been for nothing, at least they'd get a decent headache out of it on the long slog home (amidst all the toilet stops).
Slowly the locals started to appear, calmly eyeing the north eastern invaders with a confident feeling that this lot would be the next bunch of Conference North playboys to get a bloody big shock. That rattling Non League big-dipper had recently witnessed humble Salford City dump the bungling big shots from Hyde United out of the cup in the last round but they'd also suffered their cosy clubhouse being burned down, if ever a club needed a shot in the arm with a bit of a cup run with some welcome cash also tagged to the glory then Salford would be the boys. The partially wrecked clubhouse provided an eerie presence at the side of the pitch, next to it there lay 4 functional portakabins provided by Seddons which allowed the club to still put on a tea hut, a bar and a club shop profile, an excellent gesture by Seddons to help out the little club in such hard times. Amidst some better-than-usual music on the tannoy, sat in a great main stand and reading a really good programme (which had been put together in very short time since Saturdays victory over Hyde) I was thinking to myself that Salford City had a decent set up going for them here, if they can get over the problems sadly resulting from the burned out clubhouse, get some improving results and generate more local interest then there could be a real opportunity for growth and progress. Good luck to them.
Now for the match. Blyth looked very focused and measured early on, they discharged that body language that they were the ones in control and that this was a 90 minutes procedure they would complete to win a cup tie, away, on a Tuesday night, at lower opposition, miles from home, because they were the better side, just like Mick Tait had told them in the dressing room. Shame nobody told Salford City, the local gang aiming to hit the big time the easy way, fast and hard. Blyth went one up, Salford got one back, still in the first half Blyth got another goal, Salford got another one back. The Blyth Army didn't look so calm, cocky and collected anymore, in fact they had gone a trifle quite. In the main stand, what earlier looked like normal blokes just popping in from a day at the office or working down the site, were now jumping up and down singing songs at the top of their voices beneath big orange and black Salford City banners. That main stand can get pretty loud as well. What a great match it had turned out to be.
As can be the case, the second half didn't have the same drama and thrills as the first. However, it was very much an enthralling tense and tight affair which Salford dominated for the most part with Blyth more or less happy to sit deep in midfield and rely on odd breaks and set pieces. A draw was a fair result in the end (just) and now the balance of expectation will be even greater for Blyth to do what is expected in the replay at Croft Park next Tuesday evening. Can Salford make that long trip to that north eastern stronghold and get something from the game? Many will say no, personally, having seen how they played without fear tonight I don't think they should be totally discounted, if they get a goal and keep a decent spirit, this could be very tricky for Blyth, trickier than most would expect. Who knows? I know most of the locals left happy tonight, how nice for Salford that most neutrals would agree they were (perhaps) the better team, perhaps some Blyth fans might agree as well?
I had my usual walk around the ground, took a few snaps and as kick off approached I noticed there was plenty of space in the main stand, I decided to give it a go. I soon realised why there were so many empty seats, especially in the far end! There is a massive communications pillar plonked to one side of the stand and it greatly obscures the views to one of the goalmouths, this means everyone huddles together in the other end of the stand just to be able to get a decent view of the match, surely they could have agreed to move the giant pillar a bit further away from the front of the stand when they drew up the plans, it just seems stupid to have it spoiling the view from so many seats. 
The match started at a pace and it was good to see some fast attacking football from both of the sides. Buxton fluffed at least 3 sitters in the first 15 minutes and Dorryl Proffitt was the striker most probably kicking himself for at least not netting one of them. Bradford surged forward and went 1-0 up from a penalty, again Buxton threatened but couldn't finish and one sensed that the tide was turning in the visitors favour. When Buxton failed to clear a second half raid the next inevitable Bradford goal had me thinking this was definitely game over, how wrong could I be, Buxton stormed up the other end and Kieran Lugsden got the first of two goals to dramatically level what had been a good competitive cup tie.
A draw appeared a fair result in a fast paced game that seemed to have just flown by. A good following of Bradford supporters accompanied by their vociferous friendly counterparts from Buxton held their plastic glasses of watery lager aloft, many a pint had been sank from the bar, many a chance had been missed as well, this had been a credit to the spirit and quality of FA Cup football. Good luck to the side that triumphs from the replay.
Upon entering the ground you directly come across a nice looking clubhouse which looks pretty new, as there didn't seem to be a tea hut out on the ground I went inside to search for refreshment (I didn't want food as my wife had made me a massive homemade meat and potato pie for my early-tea before I left, unfortunately I was still full). As I walked in the clubhouse, everybody seemed to turn round and look at me, it was like walking into a saloon in a one-horse-town western although the furniture and fittings looked a bit better here. It was unbelievable...... nearly all the old blokes (and there were quite a few) all had the same headgear on! I'd stumbled across a mass outbreak of cheap Burnley bobble hats! I followed the crowd to the kitchen door and got a nice cup of tea in a mug and decided to slurp it outside.
After the shock of the Burnley bobble hat clones I made a decision to watch the match on the far touchline banking. I had a quick read of the programme but even though it was only a pound it wasn't very good, however this is not the upper echelons of the Football League and I was grateful for the publication. Both Padiham and Bacup Borough had been in recent good form and both clubs currently resided in the upper part of the table. The match was keenly contested on a decent looking pitch and soon we had chances appearing at both ends.
As the game wore on Padiham took control and their flowing dominance seemed to increasingly fragment the Bacup game plan, mistakes entered the away sides performance and it was no surprise when the goals came. One particular member of the Bacup supporters in the crowd had been voicing his displeasure at his sides inability to establish a meaningful output, this is fair enough and quite normal but it was unfortunate that his language was straight from the gutter and nobody wants to listen to swearing, especially when there are ladies and young children in the vicinity. This had been a decent game and the North West Counties League does seem to offer good value for money. Padiham look a strong side at home and it will be interesting to view their progress. Perhaps Bacup just had an off day, maybe it was something they had for tea.
Kings Lynn took all 3 points from what looked a nailed-on bore-draw and it will doubtless appease Carl Heggs the fiery Linnets boss from rollicking his charges all the way back to Norfolk. Unfortunately Heggsy spent the afternoon in the stand, there was a rumour he was banned from the touchline, this spoiled the usual touchline entertainment as Carl often grows more and more potty the longer the match progresses. All I could see today was his outline in the stand as he kept jumping up and down shouting and pointing at anybody in ear-shot. A stewards nightmare. Lee Ashcroft, the Town boss tried to liven up the game by calling the officials something nearing the truth and he was promptly sent off for his honesty, Lee tried to continue watching the match from the crowd but the ref wanted him in the dressing room, poor Lee had to walk all the way around the ground past a jovial mini-bus full of beered up Kings Lynn supporters, not nice. You could clearly hear Lee taking his anger out on his sandwich box and the flask his Auntie had provided him with as the bangs and crashes rang out from beneath the wooden stand.
Other memorable moments from the afternoon were provided by watching falling leaves dance in the wind before coming to rest on the lush green pitch but I got bored with this after a while. As Kendal Town do not have a tea hut (something I was kindly pre-warned about by a supporter before my visit) I was pleasantly surprised to find some children selling soft drinks, mars bars, home made biscuits and Kendal mint cake from some tables beneath one of the tin sheds. I got the only bottle of water on offer and they only charged me a pound, lets hope the club can get some proper tea hut stuff in order for the near future (they could rope in some two-fat-lady types to give it that Gateway to the Lakes feel). 
Another bright interlude to this match of doom was watching the lad who acts as ball boy enforcer climb an old pair of wooden ladders up and over the adjacent cemetery wall to rummage around the graves for the match ball, the back four of Kings Lynn were certainly keeping him busy, the safety officer just shook his head and smiled. As the teams carried on hoofing and failing to time simple passes the locals became more and more fed up, narky and grumbly. The referee wasn't helping by lecturing everybody at length and endlessly disrupting any faint chance of open play. As the final whistle blew everybody seemed to heave a sigh of relief...at last the ordeal was over. I forgetfully let out a statement of "garbage", a bloke nearby heard me "wasn't it just" he agreed, "I wont be back to watch this shower of sh***" for a few months" he politely exclaimed.....oh dear, time to go and find the car. 
It is wrong to focus too much on a hopeless Harrogate, it is proper and correct to praise the superb attacking football Bradford Park Avenue provided today. They played total-football with clean, accurate passing, endless energy and the sheer confidence that they were going to win this cup tie and win it well. They had their supporters in dreamland, this wasn't just a good win it was a rout, a slaughter, a massacre. 
This game was on Welsh tv and we duly kicked off 5 minutes late, probably due to a late tv feed and lots of over-running adverts about daft loans, old peoples stair lifts and dogs running around with bog rolls around their necks. The game was entertaining enough with TNS looking slightly more of a quality product than the resolute but basic home side. Shame there was only a handful of TNS fans making the trip, especially as they were second in the table. The expanse of the TNS game plan seemed to take the wind out of Bangor in the second half and chances came and went but still no goals. It was only in the 87th minute that TNS got the goal that had been so elusive and meant so much to their title challenge, there was no coming back for a fagged out Bangor City. All 7 of the TNS fans went mad with delight. Game finished and it was time to take the 10 minute walk back to the car park where some local entertainment had been put on by a car owner who had left their volkswagon golf parked on a slope without the necessary handbrake. It had rolled down the car park and ploughed into a nearby car just four bays away from mine, I was lucky it wasn't me coming back to a badly dented vehicle... now that would really have got me moaning?
By 7.40pm we were almost in darkness and I almost thought one of the heritage trains was about to pass by on the adjacent railway line, not to be, the noise was the trusty generator and on came the floodlights, match time! I took up a great seat in the small main stand, with plenty of space between the rows and comfortable arm rests as well, this was North West Counties League luxury at its finest.
