EDITORIAL Footballers have never had it so easy. They have never been paid as handsomely, they have never been as revered globally, and in the case of Doncaster Rovers players, they have never been so seemingly immune to criticism, as they are right now.
‘What a shambles this club has become under this board... The club started to go downhill when John Ryan left.’
For at least two months now the men in red and white hoops have been largely and collectively underperforming. Yet for a significant section of our support the blame appears to lie instead with men in suits watching from the stands.
‘The board aren’t interested. Actions speak louder than words they have done nothing to avoid the current situation.’
‘Well done Mr. Bramall and the board, you have turned Doncaster Rovers into a shambles. There is no excuse, the board are to blame’
Terry Bramall and Dick Watson have put millions of their own finance into this club, they are doing so now, just as they did when John Ryan was involved; that’s why Ryan invited them onto the board in the first place. As disinterest goes, steady investment for a decade is a remarkably involved form of malaise.
How anyone can watch Aaron TaylorSinclair get caught hopelessly out of position week after week and decide that our current slump is the responsibility of a board who’ve ploughed millions into the club is beyond me.
Bramall and Watson have backed the club’s last two managers; they backed Paul Dickov across two divisions, and they have backed Darren Ferguson too, as the manager himself confirmed to the Free Press earlier this month.
Yet they do, and they continue to do so, in their desperate shouts at matches, and in their angry thumbing of keys on social media apps.
CONTENTS: ISSUE 81 5 6 10 11 12 14 16 19 20 22
Steve Uttley Obituary The Bernard Glover Diaries The Belles, The Belles Memorable Memorabilia Watching from Afar Marshall Matters Howard’s Marks Conference Calls Jack the Miner’s Coal Face Voice of the Pop Side
25 26 29 30 32 33 34 36 38 39 3
Remembering the First Time Jack’s Craic Star Strikers Gary Brabin Memorial Lounge Waugh, Huh, Yeah Evans Watch Beneath the Statue Windmills of Your Mind Reg Ipsa: Legal Beagle Laws of the Game
‘The board have been fantastic. They’ve been great in terms of getting the players in that I wanted to get in around the month of January.’
Richard Chaplow and Paul Keegan are offering all the resilience of a reality TV star’s wedding vows, whilst I suspect Lynden Gooch’s constant presence on the field can only be explained by the American having some uncompromising footage of Ferguson and a household appliance saved to his hard drive.
Yet still the blame is heaped upon them, an inevitable hangover from the manner of John Ryan’s departure. Ryan did a hell of a lot for this club, and deserves ample and due credit for that, however in throes of his big exit at Oakwell he sought to turn a boardroom disagreement into a popularity contest, by undermining those that remained. It may not have engineered the immediate backlash Ryan harboured, but it did enough to sow seeds of resent in the minds of many of our fans; and it is those seeds which sprout whenever the team hits a rocky patch. As shown in that bedsheet paraded round the ground two seasons back, and in the comments listed above.
‘I can’t believe people are still defending Stuckmann,’ commented one supporter on Facebook after defeat to Peterborough. Well, if the four or five people the manager has lined up in front of him aren’t going to do it, we may as well. I don’t believe we have terrible players. And, despite his current tactical floundering and poor loanee recruitment, I don’t believe we have a terrible manager. And, I certainly do not believe we have a terrible board; on that score, quite the opposite in fact. However, we are underperforming, on the pitch and in the dugout, and that has to change this weekend.
Of course Ryan is in no way to blame for the team’s current league position, and I don’t want my words to be misconstrued as a suggestion that he is. But then neither are the current board. Instead, accountability for our current malaise should rest squarely on those on and around the field on a matchday.
John Ryan isn’t coming back, Bramall and Watson are not departing, neither (for the next month at least) is the manager. This is our lot, and all we can do as supporters right now, is get behind what is in front of us. We can make a difference, we can help give that confidence they’re so sadly lacking, and we can hopefully drive them above the dotted line, and beyond the prefixed R’s of the final league table. Start today. Stop the sulking, stop the blaming and get behind your team when it needs your support more than any other time in the last decade.
This Rovers team has a good blend of the experienced and the promising, it has great potential and ability, as shown in the way it despatched Southend at the turn of the year, and matched Stoke City a week later. Yet since those fixtures, all confidence and competence has been sucked out of them. Andy Williams was the hottest striker in the division in December, yet now moves round the pitch like the deflated reticent ghost of football past.
GW
4
STEVE UTTLEY 1957-2016 The death of former Doncaster Rovers Media Manager Steve Uttley earlier this month was a great shock to myself, coming as it did just a day after he’d been in touch on social media, and a few short weeks since he’d written for this publication.
In 2013, through a mix of fate and circumstance, the club found themselves without a match commentator, and I offered to step in. To Steve’s immense credit, he was happy to wash all misgivings we had of each other (especially following ‘the experiment’) under the bridge and let me have a crack. And during the subsequent period in which I was involved in the club’s media output he was a pleasure to work with; a genuine guy who was prepare to do what he could for anyone at any time.
However, it would be remiss of me to suggest that Steve and I had always seen eye to eye; he being manager of the official club media for a decade in which I was editing unofficial Rovers publications. And, in that time I would often in formative years on Viva Rovers, and occasionally whilst editing popular STAND place criticism on his work. Steve and his team were by no means an enemy, but they were certainly the other, and as any unofficial publication would, we defined ourselves against them.
As Steve himself wrote in issue 80 of this fanzine he was initially brought in at Rovers to help with the IT set-up, and on his first day on the job found that half the computers had been stolen, the software for the others had been lost, and as he sat at his desk he duly put his foot through a hole in the floor. Many would’ve walked away at that point. Steve didn’t. He committed to the task at hand and over the subsequent decade not only became a Rovers fan, but also became an integral part of the club, during arguably its most successful ever spell.
It is received that it is wrong to speak ill of the dead, but I feel it is worse to speak fictionally. Steve, keen and accomplished photographer as he was, did not offer the most polished of all round club media; and so a stuttering embrace of social media, and his infamous miss-spellings were often a welcome source of fanzine material.
Steve got what football was about, he got what it meant to people, and as a fan himself he got what this publication was about, when many around him did not. He will be sorely missed by a great many people, and that in itself speaks volumes about the character of a very genuine man.
I raise these points not out of any disrespect, but because I feel it says a great deal that all the misgivings I had of Steve, and my cocksure thoughts about how he worked, came before I met him; and duly dissipated the moment I did. 5
GW
THE BERNARD GLOVER DIARIES IN WHICH WE TRY TO MAKE A THIRTEEN MATCH WINLESS RUN SOMETHING YOU MIGHT WANT TO READ ABOUT SATURDAY 13 FEBRUARY ROVERS 0-1 SHEFFIELD UNITED
SATURDAY 20 FEBRUARY BARNSLEY 1-0 ROVERS
This was the first time I’d seen Rovers in the flesh since the defeat to Stoke City, and it was hard to recognise it as the same team. Bereft of¬ cohesion and confidence in equal measure they struggled to get any foothold against what was a poor Sheffield United side in a derby that lacked any sense of occasion.
Thorsten Stuckmann returned to the Rovers side for the second South Yorkshire derby in eight days and was in action early on as Barnsley started the brighter. Rovers had the best chance of the half though - as Cedric Evina finished a mazy run by cutting back to Paul Keegan, but the midfielder’s low left-foot shot flew wide – and started the second half brightly too; Mitchell Lund through in space, but his powerful strike was straight at goalkeeper Adam Davies.
Andy Williams had a first half header cleared off the line, but that was as good as it got. The Blades edged in front before the break with a goal that probably could’ve been prevented and didn’t have to exert themselves all that much in order to protect their advantage across the second half.
From then on though it was all Barnsley and they got their reward when Conor Hourihane’s shot was parried by Stuckmann straight into the path of the advancing Ashley Fletcher, who poked home the winner. An improvement on last week, but it’s clear a win is desperately needed.
Regrettably I managed to seat myself in front of Doncaster’s own Statler & Waldorf for the duration of the game, meaning Rovers failing were exaggerated ten-fold by the waves of negativity cascading over me from behind. ‘That Williams, alright he’s scored a dozen or so, but ten of them were lucky’ being a particular lowlight. If you ever wonder why the side lacks confidence at home, you probably won’t have to look far for the answer.
FRIDAY 26 FEBRUARY Rovers confirm the outcome of the vote on next season’s kits; having run through a ‘top’ five of designs submitted by supporters for 2016-17. Mercifully, the winning home shirt is the one in which people had pissed about with red and white hoops the least; though it does include more rogue blue piping than the woods behind Polypipe on Broomhouse Lane. 6
In the voting on the new away kit, a collection of off-cuts from the last three Liverpool away shirts just edged out a faded old tablecloth from Ian Beale’s ‘caf ’ in Eastenders, to everyone’s collective relief.
Suddenly galvanised, Rovers seized the initiative and almost scoring a carbon copy of the first goal just five minutes later, leaving Millwall grateful for the half time whistle. After the break, both teams ramped up the intensity, drawing multiple yellow cards apiece in the process. Whilst Millwall impressed on the counter attack, it was Rovers who made most of the running and who ultimately grew more frustrated. Wasted attacks, coupled with The Lions’ timewasting and some questionably petty refereeing meant this game ultimately fizzled out, but not without late chances for both teams to steal the spoils at the death.
TUESDAY 1 MARCH SWINDON TOWN 2-0 ROVERS
SATURDAY 27 FEBRUARY ROVERS 1-1 MILLWALL
I’d intended to make this game, but railway works rendered the journey home too arduous. As such I’d like to publically thank Network Rail for ensuring I didn’t have to witness another Rovers capitulation.
When you’re low on confidence and form the last thing you need is to gift your opponents an early goal, but as with the earlier season fixture at The Den, Rovers were in charitable mood; Keegan’s back-header falling into the path of Steve Morrison who duly chipped Millwall in front.
The first half had looked largely even, but just as it appeared the sides would go in level Swindon managed to break so emphatically they had six players (yes, six) running at two defenders, and the opening goal was a mere formality.
Lucky to be only a goal down after half an hour, Rovers resorted to sonic warfare in the form of a droning PA system. Requests for ‘Joe from IT to report to the control room immediately’ drew the biggest cheer of the day, but then out of nothing came an equaliser. Williams broke down the right and pulled back for Richard Chaplow – booed continually by the Millwall fans – to notch one up against his former club.
In the second half Rovers struggled to keep up with a confident, energetic Robins side unrepresented by a scoreline that only reached 2-0. Chaplow was sent off for two bookable offences and the rest of Rovers midfield merely melted away into the night. 7
THE BERNARD GLOVER DIARIES CONTINUED FROM PAGES 6 AND 7
SATURDAY 5 MARCH ROVERS 0-1 SHRESBURY TOWN
As time ticked down, Rovers almost got a lifeline from an old friend. Richie Wellens, on as a substitute, tripped Cameron Stewart on the edge of the box. Stewart curled the free-kick over the wall but Leutwiler tipped the ball onto the post and to safety. The ‘must win’ game was lost.
Darren Ferguson shuffled his pack for the ‘must-win’ game against Shrewsbury; a flat back four and Luke McCullough redeployed as a holding midfielder, whilst Riccardo Calder – signed on loan from Aston Villa in the week – was bumped to the wing.
MONDAY 7 MARCH
The change seemed to work, and Rovers dominated the first half against a wary Shrews side, with McCullough’s 25-yarder tipped over by Jayson Leutwiler. Sadly though too many familiar failings were on show; misplaced passes, poor final balls and indecision around the area. Still, at least Rovers ended the first half ahead on points, if nothing more tangible.
‘Bradford City are a football club who received praise from many fans of other clubs for their radical approach to Season Ticket pricing and making football more accessible. On this occasion they are failing supporters,’ read a joint statement from Rovers supporters’ groups after the West Yorkshire club failed to honour an agreement with Doncaster to reduce ticket prices for the two matches between the clubs this season.
At the start of the second half, however it appeared Ferguson had handed over his team talk to a stage hypnotist who had been called away before he got round to the bit where he says ‘when I click my fingers you will wake up’. Rovers were hesitant, dreamy almost, and Shrewsbury sensed a route into the contest.
The statement went on ‘Unanimously, we agree that any alternative will be nothing more than a token gesture to cover up the fact that Bradford City FC are refusing to treat our away supporters with the same dignity and respect that our club treated theirs.’ A well-made point, and one this fanzine whole-heartedly endorses as the groups encouraged fans to boycott the fixture.
That route came straight from a corner, as Shaun Whalley’s in-swinger was inexplicably ducked by Conor Grant and Thorsten Stuckmann was unable to reach the near post before the ball swerved in. Williams had come on just before the concession and headed over from a few yards out when it seemed easier to equalise, but generally Rovers’ play was laboured and maladroit, offering few threats to the Shrewsbury goal.
TUESDAY 8 MARCH SCUNTHORPE UNITED 2-0 ROVERS Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God. When we can’t get a single point off Scunthorpe in a season then it really is a time for concern. 8
SATURDAY 12 MARCH BRADFORD CITY 2-1 ROVERS
SATURDAY 19 MARCH ROVERS 1-2 PETERBOROUGH UTD The now customary pre-match gloom was leavened by the news that James Coppinger had returned to the starting line-up. Could he be the man to turn Rovers’ fortunes and initiate a climb from the wrong end of the table? On four minutes it appeared he could, as great work from Stewart and Williams created a chance that Coppinger tapped home for a first home lead of the calendar year.
‘We are terrible’ read the text message sent by our man James McMahon from his position in the Valley Parade stands. ‘If it wasn’t for Andy Williams, Butler to an extent, we’d have nothing.’ James’ text came as Rovers had already slumped two goals behind the home site, although brief joy would come his, and Rovers’ way late on. ‘We scored a goal!’ exclamation mark definitely required. ‘God if we could play like we did the last three minutes for ninety…’ a perennial problem that Rovers need to address as soon as humanly possible.
Despite Rovers showing promise in attack, the lead wouldn’t last to halftime. A cross from the right missed by everyone, except Aaron Williams who prodded in the equaliser.
FRIDAY 18 MARCH
The second half saw Posh capitalise on referee Sebastian Stockbridge’s apparent unwillingness to brandish cards or control the game, as repeated Rovers attacks were stopped by challenges that would have been considered thuggish on a rugby pitch.
Curtis Main remains on loan at Oldham, and whether he returns or not is apparently his decision, in what seems an odd loan arrangement – handing one of our main rivals for divisional survival a free forward, even if it is Main.
Although Rovers arguably had the better of the half, neither team was spectacular, and the draw seemed a fair result. Sadly, deep into Fergie time, Ricardo Santos was on hand to take advantage of a wandering Stuckmann and give United the three points, leaving Rovers sinking into the bottom four.
In other transfer news Conor Grant and Lynden Gooch have returned to their parent clubs due to injury, whilst Eddy Lecygne may or may not still be here; I mean, how would you know. Meanwhile Ferguson has moved to address defensive concerns by bringing in… another attacking midfielder. Tommy Rowe joins from Wolves. 9
GW
THE BELLES, THE BELLES EDITOR GLEN WILSON REPORTS AS THE NEW FA WOMEN’S SUPER LEAGUE SEASON GETS UNDERWAY And the Blues put the game beyond doubt with two goals in quick succession from international forwards Ji So-Yun and Eni Aluko wrapping up a 4-1 win and a place in the quarterfinals. Though the Cup exit will have disappointed, the Belles had an instant opportunity to make amends as they faced Chelsea at the Keepmoat again in their opening league match, whilst this edition was being printed.
After a long winter of waiting the Doncaster Rovers Belles season finally commenced last weekend as they faced Chelsea at the Keepmoat Stadium in the FA Women’s Cup. For many the prospect of beginning the season against the reigning league and cup champions would’ve been daunting, but not so the Belles, as they took the game to the visitors and opened the scoring after just six minutes. Jess Sigsworth on her return to the club, slalomed past her former team-mate Millie Bright before firing into the bottom corner.
The Belles may not have been outclassed by their opponents in their first competitive fixture of the season, but the Chelsea defeat will have certainly showed manager Glen Harris that he still has some work to do to ensure his Belles side are a match for the rest of the division on their return to the top flight.
Though the Belles started on the front foot they were soon pegged back by Chelsea who equalised as a scramble in the goalmouth saw the ball find the Belles net via home skipper Leandra Little. Goalkeeper Nicola Hobbs kept Doncaster in the tie with a string of fine saves, before Chelsea eventually edged in front on the hour through Karen Carney’s excellent lob.
The FAWSL action recommences at the end of April, please do get down and support the Belles as they bring top flight football back to the town.
DONCASTER ROVERS BELLES - NEXT 10 FIXTURES Wed 27 April Mon 2 May Sat 21 May Sun 26 June Sat 9 July Sun 24 July Sat 30 July Thu 11 Aug Sat 27 Aug Thu 1 Sept
7:45pm 2:00pm 6:30pm 2:00pm 6:00pm 2:00pm 6:30pm 7:45pm 5:30pm 7:45pm
Away Away Home Away Away Away Home Home Away Home
at Birmingham City at Manchester City vs Arsenal at Notts County at Sunderland at Chelsea vs Birmingham City vs Manchester City at Liverpool vs Sunderland 10
at Solihull Moors FC at Academy Stadium at Keepmoat Stadium at Meadow Lane at Hetton Centre at Staines Town at Keepmoat Stadium at Keepmoat Stadium at Widnes Vikings at Keepmoat Stadium
MEMORABLE MEMORABILIA CONTINUING OUR SERIES OF TREASURED ROVERS ITEMS IS MIKE FOLLOWS’ PHOTO OF BELLE VUE I’m in the process of converting my garage into a games room with pool table, dart board and a range of Rovers memorabilia to go on the walls. One thing though has been hanging proudly in there since the day I moved in, just over two years ago. As covered elsewhere in this issue, everyone who has followed the Rovers over the last decade or so will have been saddened to hear of Steve Uttley’s premature passing. He was a link to a different era which ended not all that long ago but is looked back upon with fondness.
The verdant glow of the wonderful pitch basking in the crisp, white electric light takes me immediately back to the place where I fell in love with football and the Rovers. Although the terraces are packed on the photograph, some of my abiding memories are of simpler, quieter nights: The smell of wintergreen as Gary Brabin emerged from the home tunnel for a reserve match in 1995. Sitting behind Sammy Chung at an FA Youth Cup game trying to persuade him to sign the flying winger, Simon Ireland from Mansfield (sorry about that one).
The print of one of his photographs hanging on my wall is much more than a picture to me. It’s a thousand memories: sights, sounds, smells, feelings; a different one rushes out of the picture at me every time I look at it.
Of course those wild, crazy nights against Manchester City, Villa and Arsenal also come flooding back. The surge of movement on the Pop Side as Dave Penney’s Rovers upset the odds. It feels like I could step into the picture and be there again.
The photograph is a view from the Rossington End of Belle Vue illuminated by floodlights. I don’t know which match it was taken at and although I could probably work it out I don’t want to. It’s not about a specific fixture or moment in time. It’s about thirteen years that I spent on the terraces there and every single experience of that era as I grew from a schoolboy to a man, constantly returning to the same place.
Those experiences and many more were made all the better for being shared with friends, acquaintances and strangers who became kin to me, and Belle Vue was the family home. Some of those people have been lost along the way and others’ whereabouts and wellbeing are unknown to me but in that image on my wall they live on just as I remember them. From behind the lens so does the man who captured it. Thanks for the memories, Steve. 11
MF
WATCHING FROM AFAR HAVING LONG FOLLOWED ROVERS FROM EXILE, ANDY BARLOW SHARES TIPS ON HOW TO DO SO As the pieces from John Coyle and Liam Otley in issue 79 of the fanzine attested, for many of us who leave Doncaster to seek our fortune in other towns where streets are paved with gold, there is a nagging conundrum. How do we keep abreast of what is happening at the Keepmoat Stadium on a matchday when we cannot be there in the flesh?
External comments seem to encompass nothing more than people complaining about Rovers Player not working, which is a bit of a shame as more fan input would make for a better experience. Rovers Player Given it appears to breakdown pretty much every game, if comments on the wall are to be believed, I’ve often wondered what the set-up is with Rovers Player - some sort of Marconiesque radio contraption powered by Peter Heritage on a massive hamster wheel perhaps. As you have to part with money to partake in this option and (it will be a bombshell to some) the streets of the south are not actually paved with gold, I’ve not yet experienced the glory of Rovers Player. I can only assume the commentary is witty, eloquent and nuanced as no-one would be desperate enough to part with cash in order to hear a dull commentary that intermittently fails... would they?
Well, as this is something I’ve handled for many a year myself, I thought it might be helpful to those with a similar quandry on Saturday afternoons to offer a few of the multitude of options open to the Rovers fans in exile, and share a few views on them. The BBC Sport App Arguably the ‘go to’ option for any sports fan needing up to date information while on the go. It’s reliable, comprehensive and easy to use, but, let’s be honest, very bland and understandably non-partisan when covering matches. I started to wonder whether I was using it too often the other day when I turned to a supporter next to me following a Rovers attack and commented ‘Nathan Tyson, right footed shot from outside the box is too high’.
The Doncaster Rovers FC Facebook group – FFS The place to be if you’re missing the expletive laden atmosphere of the terraces. It’s also the place to go for, near-live, shaky mobile phone recordings taken from the back of the Black Bank of distant Rovers penalties.
The Rovers Wall A much more Rovers-centric view of the action and also a little more creativity in the description of the match. 12
It would be remiss of me not to mention that some of the scamps who post on here will try to trick unsuspecting fans into thinking that Rovers are playing away, when in fact they are at home be warned.
Final Score / Soccer Saturday If you’re contemplating watching either of these all afternoon, I’d suggest you need to consider widening your horizons. There we go; I’m fully aware there are more options, though I’d say they all roughly equate to one of the above none of which at all measure up to the multi-sensory experience of actually being at the game.
Radio 5live When Rovers were enjoying the heady days of Championship football, you’d regularly get Mark Pougatch checking in with a reporter stationed at the Keepmoat. I even remember Brighton versus The Likes of Doncaster being the main commentary game on day one of the 2011-12 season. Nowadays you’re lucky if we get a mention when a goal goes in. The upside of the radio option though is that you can actually get on with something constructive on your Saturday afternoon whilst listening. The downside is that if you miss the split second announcement of an opposition goal you’ll waste much psychic energy for the rest of the game urging Rovers on for the winner when in fact it’s an equaliser they need.
Which leads me seamlessly to my final thought. If you are (un)lucky enough to get to the Keepmoat on a regular basis, spare a thought for us exiles. Share a view on the Facebook page, comment on the Wall, hey, even phone in to Robbie Savage – just try not to let him reply. You’ll be doing a huge service to those of us stranded on missionary work in the south, dealing on a regular basis with the phrase ‘you support who?’
AB
13
MARSHALL MATTERS ROB MARSHALL TRIES TO UNDERSTAND WHERE ROVERS’ 2015-16 SEASON HAS GONE WRONG We proved it the last time we were here, that title-winning team of 2013 was built on just that. Two big centre backs who headed, kicked and repelled everything thrown at them with full backs who defended first and did the basics well. This was the base of a team which was big and strong, well organised, experienced, mobile and had just enough quality in forward areas to be effective. Whilst not always great to watch, effective it was and it doesn’t need too much creative thinking to recognise it as the blue print to succeed in League one.
League One, well it is what you’d expect really isn’t it? Our recent stints at this level have seen it littered with fallen giants who boasted massive names and decent football. In recent years League One has been one of the most competitive and difficult places to escape from due to the size of the teams desperately trying to scramble out of it. Look around now; the names of recent years, Nottingham Forest, Huddersfield, Leeds, Bournemouth, Sheffield Wednesday et al have been replaced with a very different set of names. Burton, Wigan, Gillingham and Walsall make up the current top four and whilst they are there on merit, with the exception of Wigan none of them come close to the names which have occupied those places over the last decade.
So where are we in comparison? Well, Darren Ferguson is clearly a man of his word. His aim of lowering the age of the team appears to have been spectacularly achieved, though the cost is the corresponding decline in experience. Most worryingly, it appears as though it has also seen a reduction in desire, spirit and fight.
Having been spoilt by a stay in the Championship, the quality of football on offer a league below does not bear much comparison, the sight of long ‘percentage passes’ to the front man is now more the rule than the exception, but that’s League One, it’s not pretending to be anything else.
The departures of players like Rob Jones and Richie Wellens removed some aching legs but gone with them is anyone capable of providing an on field kick up the arse to those not pulling their weight. Skipper James Coppinger has always been more of a lead by example player, whereas we need a ‘grab you by the throat and demand more’ style of leader.
You know where you stand here, it’s a physically demanding fast paced place to play football. Endeavour and commitment are a basic requirement which is demanded above all else and should be the minimum any 11 players begin with. 14
Who’s to blame? The manager? He brings the players in and ships them out, dictates tactics and style, or lack thereof. For someone who has been here before he has, at best shown startling naivety.
Make no mistake, we are League One’s soft touch with too much being asked of a collection of twentysomething loanees who have never been in a fight for third tier survival; a group who seem keener to be Premier League footballers in image and style over substance.
The players? They are the ones who aren’t doing it, who appear comfortable to churn out garbage to the paying public. Those who run the club? It’s surely only a coincidence that experienced pros who were high earners have been replaced by kids presumably on comparative peanuts.
The two goals conceded in the embarrassment at Scunthorpe were both instances of the opposition simply wanting it more than us. Both occasions saw our defenders outmuscled to get onto the end of a cross inside the six-yard box. Twice inside the six-yard box? I find it totally unacceptable, but totally in keeping with recent months; the second goal at Swindon saw Luke McCullough casually handed off by an advancing forward like a six-yearold brushed aside in the playground, or the second goal against Port Vale which saw no fewer than six Rovers players inside our own box watching whilst the opposition busily bullied their way to goal ahead of a weak, gutless collection of hooped shirts. I won’t even mention Conor Grant against Shrewsbury - that ball could’ve hit him in the face! No wonder he ducked, poor lad could’ve got hurt.
The truth is that there’s a general lethargy around the club that has crept in over the last few years. Everything on and around the pitch wreaks of ‘it’ll do’ and the status quo remains. Things came pretty easy for a spell over the last decade but that is now long gone. The club once crowned ‘football’s overachievers’ is now reaping what has been sown over the last couple of seasons. I’ve been a Doncaster Rovers supporter for 30 years, I’ve seen plenty of crap served up. I don’t expect us to win every game and I can accept a lack of ability and I can accept defeat. I can’t accept anything however unless it comes with total commitment, sweat and graft because to those of us who have paid to watch it’s what matters the most.
Yes, now we have a young team, but what’s the point when it’s a team that is not prepared to put its collective foot in and battle League One style? I would argue that a team which contained Wellens and Jones would not have conceded those calamitous goals, and certainly wouldn’t have been afforded an easy ride having done so.
If the malaise at the Keepmoat continues we will surely get all we deserve next year; I’m sure League Two’s not that bad anyway?
15
RM
HOWARD’S MARKS HOWARD BONNETT VISITS SCARBOROUGH TO SEE WHAT LIFE THEIR IS FOR FOOTBALL IN THE TOWN AFTER DEATH ‘Man hands on misery to man. It deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can, and don’t have any kids yourself ’ Phillip Larkin
For many years they operated as a non-league club and enjoyed reasonable success. Notably they became the first-ever club to win automatic promotion to the Football League in 1987, instead of progressing via the election process used in years before.
At a time when Rovers are struggling to maintain our place in League One and, as part of a generally declining picture on the pitch in recent seasons, it is all too easy to moan and worry about our fate and where we may end up. I even hear kids in the South Stand saying how poor we are. Given Rovers’ history, one of many years spent as a lower tier club, perhaps we should all take a moment for a reality check.
Scarborough reached the play-offs of the fourth tier twice during their League career, losing out to Leyton Orient in 1989 and Torquay in 1998. How many of you remember the famous goal on 8 May 1999 when, in the last game of the season, Carlisle’s on loan goalkeeper Jimmy Glass ran up for an injury-time corner and scored to give his side a win over Plymouth which saved them from relegation to the Conference? Two points which come out of that are 1. It really was nearly 17 years ago, and 2. It was Scarborough who were relegated back to the Conference as a result of that goal.
On a recent work visit to Scarborough I passed the now desolate former McCain Stadium, the home of Scarborough FC. As I pass Belle Vue after each home game, this set me thinking about how their history in some part mirrors our own and how badly it can go for clubs that do not have the genuine support and enthusiasm of millionaire Chairmen to keep them going.
From 1999 onwards the club has suffered a broadly downward spiral with limited success in the Conference. A series of different owners, various and numerous allegations of poor management and decreasing returns saw the club suffer financial problems leading to further relegation to the Conference North.
There are a number of parallels between the history of Scarborough and the Rovers beyond the shared red and white hoops. The club was formed in 1879 and played out of the Athletic Ground in Seamer Road until it was renamed the McCain Stadium in August 1988. 16
This makes it hard for the team to attract and keep sponsors and also to keep the core of fans going, particularly when, earlier in the season, they went on a 16 match run without a win. This makes our current swirl round the drain seem positively temporary.
The club played their final game in that division on 28 April 2007. Then, following lengthy and complex problems, the club was wound up in June 2007 with debts of ÂŁ2.5 million. It seemed at that point that football in Scarborough was done for. Our friends on the coast however had different ideas.
At this level the drop in revenue is particularly hard and has led to drives for fundraising and support. The club had attendances last season up to 1,118 and this season these have varied between 200-500. This drop is felt particularly acutely when there are few other income streams, especially as food and drink takings go to Bridlington rather than Athletic’s funds.
Soon after two rival teams bearing the Scarborough name were set up. The team connected with the former management, Scarborough Town, struggled through a few seasons in the Humberside Leagues before folding in 2013. The other team, formed and run by the Supporters Trust and named Scarborough Athletic, secured a place in the Northern Counties East League. From then on the club started a new chapter.
But from most of the people I spoke to there was that clear and robust optimism, that only football fans can have.
However, without the now demolished McCain Stadium, Athletic have had to play their home games some 17 miles away at Bridlington Town.
In Summer 2017 the club hope to return to a new community stadium, built with involvement from the local council, the FA and the Supporters Trust. With a capacity of 2,000 and modern fitness facilities and a pool - this will hopefully reflect that size of attendances they hope to encourage and maintain to ensure an atmosphere; something that is often lacking in modern stadia built too optimistically.
Whilst the level and extent of their success from 2007 to date has been sporadic (and as I write this they are the towards the bottom end of the Evo Stick First Division North) they continue to survive. Whilst in the area with work I went to see them play Kendal Town, a bottom of the table clash, and I spoke to members of the Trust and the fans. They were all grateful that Bridlington had provided a ground to play, but it is clear that there is a disconnect when you are playing 17 miles from your home town.
The club will be tenants in the stadium in a deal similar to that which Rovers initially had and begs the questions about building other revenue streams and having control of the place where they play. 17
HOWARD’S MARKS
CONTINUED FROM PAGES 16 AND 17 However, after ten years away from home any venue is much appreciated and I am sure the club will do all they can to ensure it succeeds.
As for the game? I really enjoyed it. I saw genuine men playing the game as it should be. Tackles flew in and no one laid like they had been shot when someone went near them. The linesman on one side looked like, and was as mobile as, John Doolan and the referee took the abuse from the fans with good humour.
An honest and realistic concern is that there’s a decade in which potential fans have been lost, having been unable to see their team play in their home town. However, it is hoped that the new ground and some success may help to bring some of them into the fold. In a town with a population of about 61,000 and with no League team within 40 miles there should be plenty of people to tap into. The Trust members were honest enough to admit that this is a challenge which will markedly affect how the future of the club.
Scarborough won 2-1. Seeing a team in hoops winning at home was somewhat unfamiliar though. And at £9 entry fee, £1 for the golden goal ticket, £2 for the programme and £2.50 for a reasonable steak pie, it still left me £8.50 better off than the £23 I pay for the walk up ticket I get for the South Stand. As a fanzine we always applaud and encourage fans of Rovers, and other clubs, to support our friends in nonleague. I would certainly recommend a trip to see the Seasiders either at Bridlington or next year in their new stadium. Even if the game isn’t what you’ve come to expect you can always slope off for fish and chips afterwards. I did. I suspect the linesman who moved like John Doolan probably did as well.
A further problem has been connecting a youth system which plays at various grounds in Scarborough to a club that doesn’t play locally. Hopefully this too will improve, helping Athletic to bring through more than the two local players who lined up against Kendal. With no contracts, players are paid per game so retaining them and securing loan players in order to plan a squad is difficult. The team has had eight goalkeepers this season already.
HB
BERNARD GLOVER’S BELIEVE IT or NOT Former Rovers centre-half Colin ‘Psycho’ Sutherland now resides in the US where he’s employed in Donald Trump’s campaign team as a rogue thug ‘protester negotiator’. 18
CONFERENCE CALLS CHRIS KIDD’S LOOK AT ROVERS’ CONFERENCE HEROES CONTINUES WITH ‘DANGEROUS’ DAVE MORLEY Dave Morley signed from Oxford United in the summer of 2002 as Dave Penney sought to strengthen his side with cover in each position so as to mount a serious push for promotion. Morley progressed through the ranks at Manchester City as a youngster and scored on his debut against Bury in the second tier. Unfortunately for Dave this wasn’t to be the start of a glittering City career, and he made just one further substitute appearance before going on loan to Ayr for the rest of the 1997-98 season. Morley subsequently played for Southend, Carlisle and Oxford before joining Rovers where he spent two and a half seasons before moving on to Macclesfield.
DAVE MORLEY FACT FILE BORN: 25 SEPTEMBER, 1977 ROVERS APPEARANCES: ROVERS GOALS: DEBUT: 17/08/2002 vs BARNET A near ever present in that promotion winning side, Morley rightly deserves to be remembered. He went on to play 25 times for Rovers in Division Three the following season and was consequently part of the side that achieved immediate promotion to the third tier. An injury forced him to miss most of February and March otherwise he would probably have played more than 30 games that season too. The step up to League One probably spelled the end for Morley’s Rovers career and his final appearance came against Sheffield Wednesday at Belle Vue in December 2004, Rovers lost the game 4-0 and Morley moved to Macclesfield who were doing well in League Two.
He earned the nickname ‘Dangerous’ not as a centre-half who would terrify opponents, but more for his want to display his, admittedly admirable, skills for a big defender and try one turn or sidestep too many, playing himself into trouble. In respect of this feature, Morley only featured in Rovers’ final Conference season, but he made 36 appearances and played a vital part in 12 months that would shape a glorious next decade for the club. Morley struck six goals that season including a debut goal against Barnet. A target and a danger at set-pieces Morley underlined his heading ability most notably on the 10 May 2003 as he scored a bullet header from a Paul Green corner to put Rovers 2-0 up in the Conference PlayOff Final at the Britannia Stadium.
74 7
After three seasons at Macclesfield he saw out his career in the Welsh Premier League, notably netting the equaliser in Bangor City’s win over Finland’s FC Honka in the 2010-11 UEFA Europa League. Altogether Dave Morley played over 60 games for Rovers, featuring in two promotion winning seasons; not a bad record at all. 19
CJK
JACK THE MINER’S COAL FACE JACK THE MINER TRIES TO FIND OUT WHY PAUL DICKOV FEELS SO LET DOWN So, Paul Dickov feels let down by Doncaster Rovers.
All into the top corner and all from outside the box. The goulash must stunt their growth. It’s not my fault I’m part Bulgarian. It’s like Granville from Open All Hours. He’s part Bulgarian. That’s why he was put upon, made fun of and never given a chance. If he’d been a strapping six footer, he’d have been running that shop instead of Arkwright. So, if you think about it, that’s two little Bulgarians who have been given a hard time in Doncaster through no fault of their own. Donny has got it in for us Bulgarians.’
He should have been given more time, he said. Circumstances contrived against him, he said. As someone who felt his demise was due to his woeful tactical ineptitude and poor judgement on the recruitment front I wanted to know where he thought it had all gone wrong and I wanted to understand why someone who had handled the job with a certain amount of dignity had dispensed with it in recent weeks. I imagined we’d meet in a hotel, shake hands and talk over coffee and biscuits.
I pointed out that Granville’s father was supposed to be Hungarian.
‘Firstly Paul, why football? You were not the biggest specimen for a striker and you admitted that hard work was your main asset rather than skill. Did it hurt that people talked more about your nuisance value instead of your talent?’ Dickov straightened his tie, licked the tip of his finger and used it to smooth his eyebrow. ‘Hmm... the height thing was an issue. I blame my Bulgarian ancestry. If it hadn’t have been for that I’d have been a six foot three inch, number nine, with thighs like tree trunks, terrorising defences and bagging 40 a season, all of them with my head...
‘See, that’s another area I’ve been short-changed in. Education. If I’d been born highly intelligent, been sent to the best schools and gone to Cambridge I’d have been mates with Stephen Fry, Hugh Laurie and Emma Thompson. In fact, I’d probably have had a torrid affair with Emma and then discovered a cure for cancer. But no, Livingston born and bred, of average intelligence and with one ‘O’ level in Domestic Science and as a consequence people all over the world are still dying of cancer. It’s unfair on me and it’s unfair on the people of this planet… I could have been the new Stephen Hawking, only with my luck I wouldn’t have had one of his modern electric wheelchairs or that fancy robotic voice...
20
‘True, but you don’t want to be remembered as The Wasp, someone who was a constant nuisance to defenders. I wanted more than that. I feel badly let down by my parents and my ancestors. I was up against it from day one. If they’d been of West African origin and I’d been born black and they’d given birth to me in Brazil in 1940, I might have been Pelé. I’d be a legend and I’d have Bobby Moore’s shirt in a frame on my wall instead of a signed photo of Little & Large.’
They’d be pushing me around in a rusty shopping trolley from Morrisons and they’d get Joe Pasquale to do my voice. And they’d make me put a coin in the slot before I was allowed to use it, but you can bet it wouldn’t accept a Bulgarian Stotinki. Racists.’ ‘I think you will find most people accept that Bulgarians are a clever, respected people. The man who invented the first electronic computer was Bulgarian’, I offered.
Time was running short on our interview. Dickov had eaten all the chocolate biscuits and left me with the Digestives. I was eager to get his thoughts on a return to management.
‘They’re a talented bunch. Plenty of volleyball stars, water polo greats, gymnasts and boxers.’ ‘Not a bunch of lookers though are they? If I’d been part Italian I’d have been born handsome. I’d have been a catwalk model and then I’d have gone into films and been on chat shows and everything. I’d be seen out with supermodels, but obviously not Kate Moss. I’d be kissing supermodels, rubbing sun-tan lotion onto the backs of supermodels, eating caviar off the bare bellies of supermodels, making breakfast for supermodels, spanking supermodels.’
‘Yes, of course, I want to get back into it, but I only want a job where I’m given unlimited resources and unlimited time. I’m realistic about it though. A working class Scot like me with a respectable but unspectacular playing career can’t ever hope to make it as a top quality manager. Not with everything stacked against me.’ I pointed out that Sir Alex Ferguson, Sir Matt Busby, Bill Shankly and Jock Stein seemed to have overcome all those obstacles and that some might think he was blaming everyone but himself and was wallowing in undignified and misplaced self-pity.
‘Spanking?’ ‘Oh yes, you have to spank the naughty ones.’ I was momentarily flummoxed but regained my composure.
Dickov’s face reddened. He said, ‘That’s a typically anti-Bulgarian point of view,’ and stormed off knocking over the table, sending coffee cups all over the hotel lounge. He blamed the waiter and left, leaving me to pick up the bill and everyone else to clear up the mess.
I returned to the subject of football and pointed out that whilst his managerial career had been a failure, he had some Scotland caps and some winners medals from his playing days.
JTM
21
VOICE OF THE POP SIDE AN UNFASHIONABLE MIDLANDS TEAM ARE ON COURSE FOR A SURPRISE TITLE. JOHN COYLE WENT TO FIND OUT MORE They are running away with their league, shocking all the ‘big boys’ with their performances. When they have experienced a setback they have bounced back quickly. Am I talking about Leicester City? No, I’m talking about Solihull Moors of the National League North. Despite one of the smallest grounds and smallest fanbases in a league that includes former Football League clubs, Solihull Moors were nine points clear of their nearest challengers in early March. I decided to have a closer look at a remarkable story unfolding on my own doorstep.
Difficulties in finding a new site in Solihull meant Borough remained tenants for ten years. I recall going there to witness one of their rare forays into the FA Cup competition proper. In November 1997, after a draw at Feethams, they faced Darlington in a replay. A thrilling encounter ended 3-3 after extra time, with the Quakers winning on penalties. Two years later, Borough finally moved into a home of their own, a former golf driving range situated close to Land Rover, one of Solihull’s leading employers. While Borough plugged away in the Southern League, their former landlords enjoyed a successful period, culminating in membership of the new Conference North in 2004. Then Moor Green were hit by a series arson attacks which rendered the Moorlands unusable. They now found themselves as tenants of the Borough, but with their ground sold for housing and both teams struggling to survive on paltry attendances, a merger seemed the best solution. So Solihull Moors were born and the Damson Park ground saw Conference North football for the first time.
Regular readers will know I’ve lived in Solihull since 1978, but have continued to support Rovers, so only taken passing notice of local football. I’ve been to watch the Moors several times, both in their former and current existences, and they’ve always struck me as a club of modest aspirations. Cup runs have been few and far between and they seemed content to tread water below the top level of nonleague football. After this season, it is time I took a bit more notice of a club on the up. First some historical perspective: Solihull Moors were born in 2007 of a merger between Solihull Borough (formed 1953) and Moor Green (1901). In 1989 Borough were forced to sell their ground for housing and started a temporary ground share at Green’s Moorlands home, in nearby Hall Green.
Since then, the Moors have generally occupied the lower reaches of what is now the National League North; frequently flirting with relegation, but always managing to escape the trapdoor. 22
In 2011, off the back of their best season to date, they appointed former Crewe Alexandra and QPR defender Marcus Bignot as manager. However, the start of Bignot’s tenure was a disaster. They lost their first seven league games and, despite a mid-season revival, only staved off relegation on the final day. The board kept faith with Bignot, and despite another sticky start in 2012-13 they finished in the top half.
Rovers players cool-off at Solihull Moors in 2010
Like all successful teams, they recover quickly from setbacks. In January they suffered the proverbial ‘bad day at the office’ losing 0-6 at fellow promotion contenders Harrogate Town, yet bounced back with three successive wins. Results suggested a good team playing entertaining football, so it was time to have a look for myself.
Following Bignot’s arrival changes were made off the field too, which could be said to have paved the way for current success. Firstly, the club expanded their youth section and now have 27 male and female teams under the banner of Solihull Moors. Secondly, they became a genuine community club, with over 15 coaches helping provide football opportunities for school children and members of society who for various reasons could not find an outlet for their soccer skills. Finally, they have encouraged supporters of local League clubs to attend matches when their teams were away or not playing. Season ticket holders at Aston Villa, Birmingham City and other local clubs can get a 50% discount on tickets (already priced at a reasonable £10). The result has been an 80% rise in attendances.
I’ve been to Damson Park before and though the car-park is still potholed, the club does seem a bit more professional. The programme, for £2.50, is as good as anything I’ve seen in the Football League this season and includes a list of events to be held for the rest of the year. There’s a regular quiz night and next Friday for a mere £5 you can enjoy an evening with Rod Stewart (well, not the actual one!) The Moors team includes a couple of familiar names. Theo Streete, back for a second spell with his home town club, is the Moors captain and now looks much more mature and composed than the gawky, un-coordinated youngster we saw in the hoops. Darren Byfield is an occasional member of the squad and is generally used as an impact substitute. His Solihull career has included three more goals than he ever managed with Rovers.
The last two seasons the Moors have finished in the top half of the table and last season they looked solid play-off contenders until a loss of form after Christmas. This season they won seven of their first eight National League North games and were unbeaten in the League until December.
23
VOICE OF THE POP SIDE CONTINUED FROM PAGES 22 AND 23
Twenty seconds after the restart, the Moors are two up. Nottingham breaks down the right and slides in Asante, and the Dutch-born former Birmingham City man doubles the lead. Asante then plays in a delicious ball to Andy Brown, who just fails to reach it. Out of nothing, Lowestoft pull one back, some defensive indecision allowing the ‘Hagi of the Fens’ to slot home. The visitors force Solihull back, but they defend well with few scares, and at the other end Darryl Knights has a goal bound header blocked. Asante eventually runs out of steam and Byfield comes on. There is a late scare as Lowestoft have a penalty shout waved away, but the Moors emerge victorious, maintaining their nine-point lead in front of a crowd of 523.
The stadium is open on two of the four sides, with a seated main stand along the side of the pitch and a covered area behind one goal. In many ways it’s typical of grounds at this level, although if the Moors do gain promotion it will be one of the smallest venues in the National League. Visitors Lowestoft Town have anxieties at the other end of the table. They are third bottom and in danger of slipping into the Southern League next season. At least it would cut down the horrendously long journeys they have been forced to make since being assigned to this league two years ago. A dozen or so hardy visitors have turned up, and station themselves in the covered end at kick off. As the game begins, two things become immediately apparent. Solihull’s Akwasi Asante, this season’s leading scorer, has lightning pace, while Lowestoft’s Danny Crow, late of Norwich City, Peterborough and Newport County, has a gait and body shape suggestive of Gheorghe Hagi, aka the ‘Maradona of the Carpathians.’ Crow’s colleague, Chris Henderson, has the first notable effort, shooting from range and forcing a save from Danny Lewis, but the home side lead after 17 minutes. A free-kick is partly cleared and the ball falls to full-back Michael Nottingham whose pinpoint cross is headed home by centre back Liam Daly. Just before the interval Jack Byrne fires in a low shot which visiting goalkeeper Ben Killip does well to grab. Solihull turn round 1-0 to the good and I enjoy a decent burger while catching up with the afternoon’s bad news from Rovers trip to Valley Parade.
As with Leicester City, few people would have given Solihull Moors much chance of winning their division, yet they stand a few victories away from playing one level below the Football League next season. The National League, with its ex-League and fulltime clubs, will be a challenge for the Moors, but for a relatively new club they have sound foundations and a community-based philosophy which will see them through difficult times. Football needs good news stories, and Solihull Moors represent one of these. And what’s more, they are right on my doorstep.
JC
24
REMEMBERING THE FIRST TIME IN OUR ONGOING SERIES DARREN BURKE RECALLS HIS FIRST ROVERS GAME To be honest, I’d be lying if I said I can rememeber the exact details of the first time I set foot inside Belle Vue. If I was Nick Hornby, I’d now be waxing lyrical about the roar of the crowd, the noise, the smells, the sights, the sounds, the colour - the rite of passage from boyhood into becoming a fully-fledged Doncaster Rovers supporter.
I’ve also a vivid memory of gazing at the clock on the old Town End, wondering when it would tick around to 5pm and I’d be able to get warm again. And just who were the mysterious Barker and Wigfall and what did they do? The record books show Rovers finished third in Division Four in that 1980-81 season and won promotion - although I can’t recall being taken along by my dad to another game that particular season as I approached my tenth birthday. I have vague memories of being lifted over a fence on the Pop Stand side for a game a few years later after my dad realised we’d be better off in another part of the ground and yes, I was there when Rovers beat QPR in 1985 - and for the follow-up fourth round game at Everton.
The reality is the only thing I can recall about the afternoon of January 24, 1981 was spilling the contents of my dad’s Thermos flask over the pages of the programme he’d lovingly bought me and glueing the pages firmly shut with a gloopy mix of Heinz vegetable soup (not the first time my youthful excitement would stick the pages of a magazine together). The visitors were Hartlepool United (or Hartlepools United as the late Jimmy Hill would have described them) and in front of nearly 7,000, Rovers managed to do what they’ve done hundreds of times since - lose and disappoint me. I watched from the Main Stand Terrace as Ian Nimmo scored the only goal in a 2-1 defeat. No Roy of the Rovers style debut here, no last-gasp winners, no crushing 6-0 defeat over local rivals just a run of the mill dour display on a cold winter’s afternoon.
But it wasn’t until 1986-87. now free of the shackles of my father deciding which games I would and wouldn’t see, that I first became a Belle Vue regular. And that, my friends, was it. From then on, nothing would be the same again. Since then, partners have come and gone, I’ve lived at several addresses, had short lived fads with different bands and hobbies, but one thing remains constant. Doncaster Rovers. And still they delight, frustrate, upset and amaze in equal measure. Bastards.
I do recall gazing in wonderment at the bizarre sounding names in the Rovers squad. Snodin, Lally, Pugh, Dowd and Mell - were these footballers or characters from Camberwick Green?
DB 25
JACK’S CRAIC ARE YOU ALL SITTING COMFORTABLY? HERE’S JACK PEAT WITH A LITTLE STORY A long key lie under the only plant pot in the garden attached to a novelty keyring from Scarborough Fair. I took my chance and swiped it out, taking it to the back door and forcing an entry into the house and onto a hall carpeted with old Persian rugs.
‘John... JOHN’ came the yell as a bronzed door knocker shaped as a pair of drooping balls rattled against an oversized wooden door.
A cabinet with framed photos of John at The Britannia, Millennium Stadium and Wembley stood at the foot of the stairs. A framed Rovers kit from 2003 with ‘Ryan 28’ on the back hung on the adjacent wall with a League 2 winner’s medal looped over the top corner.
The doorstep had become overgrown by tropical plants keen to escape solitude at the foot of the door and the musty smell emanating from inside the house. A doormat with “I like it dirty” written across it was crowded with old milk bottles and a pile of imported Yorkshire Posts half chewed up by the dog.
I stood for a moment listening before a head popped out of the study.
‘You’re not Louis,’ a dishevelled Ryan croaked. His hair had grown out and a layer of stubble lined his face. A dressing gown cloaked a full silk pyjama set that still bore stains from last night’s takeaway.
A scuttling of feet could be heard pacing towards the door as the stiff letterbox flew open. A note came flying out with ‘Go Away’ scribbled on the back of an old envelope. A side note at the bottom read ‘Louis if this is you there’s a key under the plant pot by the pool’.
‘You don’t look good John,’ I said, being careful not to mince my words. He dipped his head, attempted to brush the crusty chow mein from his overgarment and wearily retreated into his study, gesturing me to take a seat at the dusty wooden chair in front of his oversized desk.
I pushed through an iron gate swinging aimlessly on its hinges, into the back yard where views over Table Mountain and the cityscape emerged. Brown leaves created a blanket across the swimming pool where a lonely pink lilo drifted, deflated of air and deflated of life. 26
‘I wanted to pop by to thank you for all you did for Doncaster Rovers,’ I somewhat blurted out.
For almost 15 years John Ryan had been billed as the saviour of Doncaster Rovers. A maverick chairman who transformed the club on the pitch and off it, overseeing the most successful era in the club’s history. But an ignominious departure at the hands of the board and a failed takeover bid had left a bad taste in the mouth of the Rovers faithful. He had become a lost relic of ‘the glory days’ and had paid a humbling price for the faith he bestowed in his home town.
He remained unmoved, his head dipped towards the desk and his hand repetitively tapping on a two pence piece. I felt a pang of guilt spread across my body. Ten years ago his name was being chanted from the stands of Wembley and Cardiff. Even at the Keepmoat he was revered, taking a mandatory walk on to the pitch every time Sean O’Driscoll led a dynamic Rovers squad to a victory. But I had been among his critics towards the end of his tenure, which was compounded by the Romlinson fiasco.
I had travelled out to the Western Cape of South Africa for a short holiday and seized upon the opportunity to meet Doncaster’s fallen hero in his luxury exiled abode. His house was propped on a steep incline overlooking the town, a swimming pool cut in to the hill and was partially shaded by a white washed bungalow. The street, renamed Ryan Row, was easily enough to find, most of the locals had become familiar with the man I described as being a ‘silver haired fox without the fox bit’.
‘From day one I only ever had the interests of Doncaster Rovers in mind,’ he said, still not managing to look up. ‘I saved the club from financial collapse and put them on a path to great things. If it was down to me, we would be in the Premier League today.’ ‘But we’re not a Premier League club John,’ I replied, ‘and probably never will be’.
‘So how you keeping John?’ I said, mainly to break the awkward silence that had engulfed the room.
He stared at me in the eye with a look that said ‘you’re just like all the rest’; no ambition and no vision, and in a practical sense he had a point. I couldn’t imagine supporting a Premier League team. I’d feel like a traitor after spending my youth championing the non-league and most of my recent life chastising people for eschewing their local league side in favour of the more glamourous options that await in the top tier. Indeed, part of the attraction of being a Rovers fan is being conscripted to a pub team just having a laugh.
‘I’m getting by,’ he responded with a slight whimper. ‘I’ve been better’. I was unsure of how to proceed. I could butter him up by telling how Ashes to Glory plays on repeat in my family home at Christmas, or that we all have a copy of his book stowed somewhere. That would lead on to a bit of craic about the dolly girl with the suggestive Rovers shirt and how we never really read past the front cover, but he didn’t seem in a jokey mood, so I opted for a more compassionate angle. 27
JACK’S CRAIC CONTINUED FROM PAGES 26 & 27
We don’t do lucrative signings and don’t bother with the football glitz and glamour that has seemingly swallowed the sport up.
He wasn’t a man to show remorse or regret, but seemed comforted in the knowledge that he did all he could with Doncaster Rovers, and that ‘all he could’ was a lot considering.
And perhaps that’s where Ryan got it wrong. Of all the 7,000 or so people who turned up to each home game during his tenure he was by far the most ambitious one. But by being ambitious, by pinning his hopes on glory, did he render himself out of touch with the wider club? We’re not the sorts to show up to watch a hiding every week, who is! But we aren’t in the game to see our soul been sold to the Devil.
I looked back at the swinging balls reverberating against the door with a feeling that I’d accomplished a lot in my sporadic visit to a once great Rovers legend. In my mind, I knew that I’d miss him and even grieve for him, but I certainly didn’t yearn for him back. And perhaps that’s the way all good relationships should end. Full of appreciation, without regret, and with a positive diagnosis for the future.
We chatted it through over an Irish Coffee which was distinctly more Irish than Coffee.
**This is a partially fictional account. The facts are as follows: - I was in Cape Town.
JP
28
STAR STRIKERS IS A STRIKE IS THE WAY TO SOLVE THE SPIRALLING COST OF FOOTBALL? BANGOR CITY FAN MATT JOHNSON THINKS SO The need for action is clear; blue sky thinking of the deepest azure pervades our sport. It’s in ‘the logical progression’ to a European super league and the ‘monetised revenue streams’, it’s in the pre-season tournaments that need months of corporate planning and the Microsoft adverts that tell us millions of virtual fans are as important as match goers.
A general strike could start with a single day, then progress to stoppages of a month or even six months. Empty stands would represent a very eloquent statement. While this all sounds a little radical, and radical action is needed, a general strike isn’t really that radical; missing a few matches is hardly an infringement of our human rights. Some will undoubtedly say that we can’t possibly live without paying for the privilege of watching “the top talent” but most clubs hobbled along with mostly local players, and localised fans, before the Premier League. Others may claim that they’ll miss mazy dribbles, or last minute winners after being 2-0 down on 85 minutes, but how often do these moments occur?
The journey that began with the big five’s 1980s unhappiness has led us to £77 tickets and the justification of childhood enthusiasm’s monetisation; ‘Your son wants to be a mascot? That’ll be several hundred pounds sir!’ As with most of the great societal changes in British history change will only occur if the people, i.e. us, exert enough pressure. Two recent examples should give us all heart. Firstly the FSF’s successful campaign has resulted in a cap on away ticket prices. Secondly Liverpool fans protested against a more expensive ticket plan and the idea was shelved within days.
You don’t need to worry about missing the company of like-minded individuals either as the same pre-match pubs will be open whilst the matches are on. Besides it’s not what we’ll miss that’s important it’s what we stand to gain. Another way seems possible - six weeks ago I paid about £22 to watch Sampdoria in an architecturally beautiful ground – and the logic behind our ultimate success is simple; if we all disengage from football we will win because football needs us, there will never be enough paying tourists. We just have to visualise out collective strength.
If brief pressure causes change what could we do with sustained pressure? It’s time to disown this powered by stardust pantomime and declare a footballing general strike. This means no interaction with the market driven football; no tickets, no merchandise, no pay-TV subscriptions. Solidarity would be key. In theory we should be able to put aside petty differences, we all live similar lives with similar jobs and houses.
We have nothing to lose but our chains. 29
MJ
THE GARY BRABIN MEMORIAL LOUNGE CHEAPER FOOTBALL TICKETS WOULD BE LOVELY, BUT JAMES McMAHON HAS GREATER CONCERNS If I’m paying £25 for a League One football match, like I did last weekend when I took in Rovers’ existential crisis at Bradford, at the very least I want a neck rub at half-time. What I don’t want to do is to stand in urine. Or to be looked at with derision when I ask if there’s any hot food for sale that doesn’t have meat in it. Or, have a steward with the urgency of a drunk tortoise rummage through every pencil case in my rucksack asking why I’m carrying pens with me (I can understand that he wouldn’t know that I draw things. I can’t understand what business of his it is to know; what threat a couple of pencils, a rubber and a pencil sharpener I got when I was in Japan that’s shaped like a smiling turd, holds to fulfillment of a League One football fixture). It was genuinely thrilling watching Glen’s popular STAND editorial on the ills of everything modern football go viral last issue. Thrilling because popular STAND felt famous! Not sneezing-panda-on-Youtube-famous. But people who would never pick up and read a fanzine about Doncaster Rovers were emailing me with links to it, saying ‘Isn’t this great?’. And that’s what was really exciting. It was a read that achieved the thing that the internet is most crap at; consensus.
There was no contrary prodding of the argument. None of that blinkered tribalism so aligned with modern football, that will co-opt crimes ranging from racist abuse to a footballer’s conviction for underage sex for the means of bashing fans of opposing teams about the head with. It was just a lot of football fans feeling loosely connected to each other, saying, ‘I’ve been thinking this for ages and ages now…’ Do I feel bad for being at Bradford when the #cheaperthanbradford drive was taking place, then? Not really. I really wanted to go. I’ve never been to that ground, I had a friend who lives in Bradford I wanted to see, and Rovers find themselves in such a place currently (in terms of league position, and I guess, mindset) that I want to roar them on as much as possible, whenever is possible. Credit to those who did stay away though. Especially those who went and put money across the turnstiles of one of Doncaster’s non-league clubs. Those that did something other than sit watching Sky Sports basically. I’m not sure those people really got the bigger picture. What’s the solution? Oh, I don’t know. And, in the grand scheme of things, I’m not massively bothered. 30
I mean, I certainly contributed to the widescale sharing of Glen’s piece, but I don’t lose sleep about what’s wrong with football anymore. Show me a mass movement of football fans who want real, lasting change within the game, and I’ll be there on the picketline. But you know what really concerns me? The rapid destruction of the planet, Donald Trump, sexism, racism, homophobia, ideological war, homelessness… I could go on. And on. And on. Getting a fiver knocked off my ticket to the football would be nice and that, but I’m more concerned with the baby dolphins to be honest with you. Like I say, if we can discuss a genuine overhauling (and indeed, uniting) of the fan experience, you can always contact me via popular STAND
That being a Rovers fan is still core to my identity. That I might have eaten far too much pizza in my time, and my poor genealogy might have robbed me of hair far earlier in my life that I would have liked. But despite looking like a sort of hipster sasquatch, I’m still that nine-year-old kid going bonkers on the Pop Side when Brendan Ormsby scored (it happened; seven times in fact, I just checked). I am still Rovers until I die. I was always told by teachers that a story needed a beginning, middle and an end. In this case, I’m struggling for the latter. But maybe that’s the point. I hope the end is a far way off. I mean, I’m a fan of a game that is riddled with an illness that maybe can’t be cured. But for the sake of this issue’s column, I’m most certainly still a fan, I have no intention of getting into rugby, and I’m definitely open to suggestions. It was looking a bit bleak for me back there, I’ll be honest with you.
Do I sound defeated? I don’t mean to. If anything I’m feeling the most excited about football that I have done in months. Sure, I don’t really know what’s happening on the pitch (although I sense the root of the problem lies less on the pitch, than in the places we fans don’t get to see), but I felt enough in three minutes after Tyson’s goal on Saturday to remind myself that I still care.
I’d like to dedicate this column to Steve Uttley and offer condolences to anyone who loved him. He was always very nice to me whenever we spoke, and the Rovers fanbase is a poorer one for his departure.
Below: Proof of Brendan Ormsby scoring... though not for Rovers
31
JM
WAUGH, HUH, YEAH ‘I AINT ACTUALLY BIN T’MATCH’; THE SHORT PHRASE THAT HAUNTS DAVE WAUGH’S SATURDAY EVENINGS The other day I rang my wife from a pub in Bath (a mere coincidence that I just happened to be working in a city 25 minutes from Swindon on the day Rovers played there) and complained that I couldn’t hear her because of the noisy jazz band playing in the background.
Still, there is one thing which really sends me into apoplexy every Saturday evening as I return from Rovers’ latest humiliation: Praise or Grumble on Radio Sheffield or, as my son calls it, Moaning Dee-Dahs. It’s not the programme, as such, which makes my blood simmer; it’s the morons who phone in with strong, assertive opinions about matches they haven’t attended.
‘I’m amazed you didn’t include jazz in that long moan about things you hate when we were talking last week,’ she replied, ‘still there are so many things that annoy you these days - it’s hardly surprising you forgot one or two!’
Here’s a typical exchange...
Hello Sam, what did you think about today’s performance? Is it a praise or a grumble? Na then, Andy. How’s tha gooin’ on? Are tha all reight? I’m great, Sam. So what’s it to be – praise or grumble? It’s a massive grumble fo’ t’Reds, Andy. They want to get rid o’ (whoever is the current manager). There’s only one way he’s tekkin us and that’s darn. Andy: So what went wrong today, Sam? Sam: Well I an’t actually bin t’match, Andy, but they want to get shut on t’back four for a start. Andy: That’s a bit drastic, Sam. So have they been playing badly all season then? I haven’t been to Oakwell recently, as I’m too busy obsessing with Wednesday and United.
Andy: Sam: Andy: Sam:
Now I’ve always thought of myself as a pretty tolerant, liberal, left-leaning, live-and-let-live sort of person, but as I get older the number of things which annoy me seems to be growing. This burgeoning list includes many of the obvious contenders for hatred; fierce dogs, tail-gaters, bankers, white vans, Renaults which never have the right lights on, tossers in BMWs, barking dogs, personal earphones which still enable everyone in the coach to hear every sodding beat, Leeds United, southern beer pulled without a head, the stupid font colours and backgrounds in Rovers’ programme which make it impossible to read in places, facial piercings, the Daily Mail, and cyclists who ride on the pavement. But these are clearly trivial compared with the really horrible things in the world like racism, war, famine, disease, pestilence, terrorism and Michael Gove.
32
Sam: Well I ‘aven’t been darn yet this season. It’s too expensive, and anyway I ‘ave to worm me whippet on a Sat’day, but I ‘eard a bit on t’radio and they want to get rid on t’lot on ‘em.
Points are made in reasonable, rational ways - no Rovers fan is ever cut off for using expletives - and there seems to be an acceptance that things may be pretty dire at the moment, but all will be well in the end. Calls for the manager’s head are rare and there is often an appreciative comment on the quality of the opposition. I hasten to add I am not a caller myself, and would probably fall foul of their no-swearing policy if I rang within an hour of watching the latest inept performance, but it’s nice to know some of my fellow supporters are more controlled.
Every week the show is plagued by dopes who seem to think that because they once walked past a football ground, but never actually entered it, they have the right to assail us with their uninformed pearls of crap. And they are nearly all supporters of Barnsley or Rotherham or one of the Sheffield clubs. Chesterfield fans rarely appear, but often seem mildly intelligent and have actually attended the match they are moaning about, but it is the Rovers supporters who bring a touch of class to proceedings on the rare occasions when they get through.
And while we’re at it, there’s another thing about Praise or Grumble which infuriates me: why am I always on the broadcasting deadspot on the Beverley Bypass when the interview with Fergie is broadcast? I’m fed up of it, in fact, that’s another one to go on the hate list, just below Millwall and slightly above Npower.
DW
THIS ISSUE STEVE IS... ...delivering the best am-dram Shakespeare this side of Bingley 33
FROM BENEATH THE STATUE CONTRARY TO POPULAR UNDERSTANDING, EDITOR GLEN WILSON ISN’T ACTUALLLY TIRED OF FOOTBALL A freezing cold Wednesday in March. Numb toes through three pairs of socks. I’m standing on a long-jump track in Ladywell, South East London. But I am no Bob Beamon. Not even a Lynn Davies. I am standing here to watch football; a terrible game of football featuring the worst tenth tier team I’ve ever witnessed. But that team is Lewisham Borough, my most local team. And so I stand here at least partly in parochial encumbrance, but mostly because I can think of no other place to be on an otherwise empty evening. Somehow, out there on the bobbly floodlit green rectangle masquerading as a football pitch, Borough have made it to the fiftieth minute still tied with their opponents at nil-nil. But then, on a rare venture into the unchartered territory of their opponents’ half, the new Lewisham number 9 – so new his team-mates are calling him ‘nine’ – receives the ball. And, belying his previous forty-nine minutes of clumsy ineffectuality, he rolls it round one opponent, side steps another, then from thirty-five yards lets fly with an outrageous dipping strike that clips the underside of the bar and nestles in the back of the net. It is the best goal I’ve seen all season. It came out of nowhere, and I cheered it. An involuntary yell of appreciation that took not only the rest of the 28 strong crowd by surprise, but me too. I just couldn’t help myself.
In the previous issue of popular STAND I wrote an editorial on how I had become tired of many aspects of football. It was a list of the fuzz and the clutter; the stinking funk that hangs over the game like the odour of a strong blue cheese. You know that what’s underneath is to your liking, but it takes a deep breath to battle through the fug emanating from it. I put that same editorial on our website, and watched in bemusement as it was read and shared and read and shared and read again for a fortnight and beyond. The piece grew legs and ran away from me. It went viral, and heralded a surreal two weeks of reading comments and messageboard posts from people who I’ve never met explaining to other people I’ve never met what I actually meant. A tide of subtext I hadn’t even considered, placed upon my shoulders. But there was no agenda, no hidden angle, no subtle double-meaning. I was just tired of some aspects of football, and yes I could’ve added more things, but I felt I’d made my point, and gone on long enough; after all, no-one buys this ‘zine to read a succession of my irks being pumped aimlessly into the ether. That’s what twitter’s for.
34
The thing is I don’t dislike football. Not the game. ‘You should give nonleague football a try’ was a common theme of comment in response. And I do, and I always have. Arguably to too great a degree. Since I moved to London I occasionally convince myself I’m living the life of a mature sophisticated urbanite. But it’s hard to pull off that cool metropolitan vibe, when you’re sweating through three extra sensible layers as you run after the 198 so as not to miss kick-off at AFC Croydon Athletic.
A Saturday afternoon not outside watching football, is like chips without vinegar. Sure it’s not an impossibility, but can you really bring yourself to trust anyone who likes it that way? It’s an unavoidable alliance resolutely engrained in me; Pavlovian in nature. Just ring Saturday’s bell and I’ll be there, salivating at the turnstile. A friend duly reminded me of the anecdote of Danny Baker’s, about stopping at a red light and glancing over to see a corner about to be take in a parks game, and then desperately hoping the lights don’t change before you see the outcome. That’s me. It’s always been so, lest it would be if I could drive.
Earlier this season I went to watch an FA Cup tie at Sevenoaks Town. At the station, four other men left the train. They were all going to the game, I didn’t have to ask, I just knew. All of them carrying a bag, each pausing to check the local area map, or return train times, before heading up the hill to the ground. As I walked the same way I caught sight of myself in the window of a parked car and like Dr Sam Beckett in Quantum Leap was bludgeoned with the stark reality of who I really am; the four men was actually five. I was crestfallen. Thirty-two is no age to realise you’re a groundhopper.
But how can I invest such interest in a match I know nothing about, yet be turned off by the omnipresence of football’s top flight? It’s, because it’s not the football I’m tired of. It’s the circus; the forced drama and the constant quest for excellence and reward, and the exhausting and impractical levels of expectation and entitlement that breeds. Too many football fans will never get away from that, because they’ll never realise that there is much greater joy to be had if you go into a game expecting nothing.
It’s OK, I’ve come to terms with it now. I tried to fight it at first, but a few months later I found myself in a discussion about the price of tea at grounds in the Southern Counties East League, and frankly there’s no coming back from that.
Invest nowt beyond your entrance money, and it becomes much easier to relax into the game, to see it as an escape, and lose yourself in it so much that when moments of brilliance, or luck, do happen, before you even realise it you’ll find yourself clapping and cheering for complete strangers, just as I did that night on the Ladywell long-jump track.
Another common thread of reply to that editorial was ‘If you hate it so much, just stop going.’ An admittedly logical solution, but I’m unable to apply such sober thought to what has always been an illogical connection. 35
GW
WINDMILLS OF YOUR MIND DUTCH UNCLE HAS RUN OUT OF STATISTICS... BUT LUCKILY HE PENS A GOOD AUTOBIOGRAPHY I have recently been suffering from a bout of a statistician’s version of writer’s block. I don’t have a term for it and the best I can come up with is statto’s ill-ledger-bility. Come to think of it that is probably close to what all of my English teachers would have called my schoolwork, and it is certainly what my wife calls my General-Practitioneresque handwriting these days. In fact the only way that my writing can be said to Excel is whenever I include a spreadsheet. So I thought I would do what any second rate politician would do and just ramble - not that I am a politician of any kind, and anyway I haven’t seen many recently who could be called as good as second rate.
I was totally smitten and knew then that I would be a Doncaster Rovers fan all my life, despite being exiled since 1975, and importantly in spite of feeling fiercely Welsh. In my case ‘exiled’ literally means overseas in a different country for the last 41 years. In 1965 Rovers signed Swansea born Laurie Sheffield to partner Alick Jeffrey. Laurie never played for Swansea, and we signed him from Newport in a cash plus exchange deal involving Alfie Hale. That season we stormed to the Division Four title with Laurie scoring 28 goals and Alick 22. These two were and still are my favourite all-time Rovers players, but Laurie’s Swansea connection made him my number one, and importantly he also gave me a little street-cred and for a while, as he made Doncaster folk realise that good things can come from the Valleys.
So with that in mind I have titled this piece – with apologies to Bill Shankly, Charles Dickens, Robert Ludlum and the Monty Python team – Football; a tale of two towns and one city, a born identity and the meaning of life. Bill Shankly is famously quoted as proffering that football is far more important than life or death, but in my case it has been more a case of defining identity. I was born to one Welsh and one English parent in Swansea Town (as it then was until it was declared a city in 1969), but we subsequently moved into the heart of the People’s Republic of South Yorkshire during my early school days. By 1962 I had picked up enough of the local lingo and customs (‘you can always tell a Yorkshireman, but you can’t tell him much’) to go to my first Rovers match.
Actually Laurie and Alick have an unusual common link to Swansea Town. Both players had two spells at Rovers, and both players scored in their last game of their first spell. Both of these games were against Swansea; Alick scoring in a 4-2 defeat at the Vetch Field in 1956 before breaking his leg as a 17 year-old playing for England Under-23 just days later. Laurie’s farewell goal came in a 4-1 win at Belle Vue in 1966, before he was sold to Norwich amid universal disbelief and condemnation from all Rovers fans, Welsh or otherwise. 36
From 1969 my next five years were spent at University at that ancient, beautiful, inspiring but sadly John Smiths-less city of Oxford. Unlike impressions too easily gained from seeing atypical images in Brideshead Revisited and to a lesser extent Morse, Lewis and Endeavour, there were plenty of Northern oiks like me, some supporting teams like Stockport County, Darlington and Bradford (come to think of it we have fared rather better than those three recently).
For the former task, any minor temptation to switch national allegiance to the Netherlands (they did ask me, and I was actually appointed manager of their national squash team for a while) was completely quashed by my gaining a solitary cap for Wales in squash - a proud and fulfilling moment. The latter task was not always easy as we Rovers fans went through thin and thinner up until 2003. During this time following Rovers entailed searching high and low for any English newspaper with football results, desperately looking for radio signals on Saturday afternoons, and later any TV with BBC and Ceefax. However, from 1998 the internet – Andrew Spiers’ website and more recently the VSC forum – changed my life and there, contributing as ‘Dutch Uncle’, I have felt amongst real friends and true (albeit usually moaning) soulmates.
But importantly it was in Oxford that I first learned the glorious art of defending the honour of supporting my local team in the face of incessant sarcasm from legions of glory hunting semi-supporters (probably long since ex-supporters) of more successful teams. The dichotomy of my born identity (Wales) and undying football allegiance (Doncaster) was firmly cemented. It would be remiss not to mention one further true story of my time at Merton College, concerning one of my fellow students called Alec Jeffreys. I clearly remember one evening in the college bar explaining to him how he so nearly had a famous name. Mind, I’m not sure if Professor Sir Alec Jeffreys, Fellow of the Royal Society, developer of DNA fingerprinting and subject of a recent television biopic, would actually still remember that particular conversation.
My wife has always been mystified by, but understanding of and sympathetic to my love of Doncaster Rovers. Following my retirement from gainful employment we moved to her native Northern Ireland in 2013 where at least everyone knows the true status of Wales (mainly as deadly Rugby Union rivals) and most have heard of Doncaster Rovers (Luke McCullough helps in this case). And, perhaps most importantly, there is real understanding of the importance of following a community football club.
This Oxford experience proved a great help in preparing my subsequent life spent promoting awareness, across Germany (two years) and the Netherlands (36 years), both of Wales as a separate country to England, and of the very existence, value and importance of Doncaster Rovers.
BW Laurie Sheffield and Dutch Uncle aren’t the only two men to connect Swansea and Doncaster Rovers, in issue 82 of the fanzine, out in May, Dutch Uncle will expand further on the many other connections between South Wales and South Yorkshire. 37
REG IPSA: LEGAL BEAGLE OUR RESIDENT LEGAL EXPERT IS READY AND WAITING TO ANSWER YOUR PROBLEMS... ‘TIL THE PUBS OPEN ROAD S-KILL
PALMED OFF
Dear Reg,
Dear Reg,
For our 30th my husband promised me a fur coat. I’ve always fancied one. He’s been out late at night a lot. I assumed he’d been working overtime to pay for it, but turns out he’d been off collecting animals off the roads near where we live instead. The fox and rabbit fur is quite soft but the badger on the collar makes me look like Dickie Davies off ‘World of Sport’. Help?
After the defeat at Oakwell I went out into Barnsley to console myself. After a few too many Old Moor Porters I was pretty drunk and ended up with this lass from Wombwell. She got hold of my nethers and said they were too small and useless. I’m getting a coplex now. What should I do?
Mary Hell Hatfield
REG RESPONDS I’ve got a 1970s thing coming up at Skegness Butlin’s, so I’ll have that off you so I can go as Huggy Bear off Starsky and Hutch. They won’t care at Butlin’s; that’s why I go. I’ve a lovely coat you can have in return. It’s a Donkey jacket but I’ll throw in a marker pen you can use to cover up the orange NCB bit on the back. Seems a fair deal.
Willy Flob, Bentley
REG RESPONDS I’ve wrestled with a few lasses from Dingleland. To be fair they have mitts like snow shovels and the six fingers on each hand would make the best of us look small. I’d chalk it off to experience. There’s a lass I know in the Staff of Life who’ll make you feel better for a port and lemon. She’s got small hands and has plenty of wet wipes as she works in a burger van nearby and she often has to nip back to do the supper service. 38
CRASH AND BURN Dear Reg, I’ve been taking my son Arthur on driving lessons, but he’s been scaring me half to death. He’s got no road sense, keeps missing things and the car looks like it’s been in a demolition derby. We can’t afford any of them fancy driving lessons and I’m not sure how much more our Morris Marina can take. Any suggestions? Hugh Dent, Intake
REG RESPONDS Tell you what Hugh, if you want someone who doesn’t mind being in charge of something which is performing badly, not doing as you tell it all the time and has no idea where it will end up I’d suggest asking Darren Ferguson if he can spare a few hours with him.
HB