EDITORIAL How do you want to be remembered?
Like me you’ll have, in these past few days, read many of the countless stories, which highlight the measure of Taylor; his kindness and his decency. From refusing to have a roof on the dugouts at Vicarage Road until there was one over the fans on the terrace, to taking the time to personally support players facing off-field problems, be they alcoholism or the demands of a new family. He recognised the importance of the clubs he managed within their communities, and vice versa, and duly strove to foster a solidarity between players and fans wherever he went.
Would you rather be thought of as successful, no matter what the cost, or as someone who strove to do things the right way? I realise that’s perhaps a deeper question than you may have been expecting from the opening line of a fourth tier football fanzine, but it’s one which has often played on my mind, particularly in this past week. I’m writing this editorial following the death of Graham Taylor. As someone who has seen neither his club, nor his nation managed by Taylor I am perhaps not as well positioned as others to express remorse at his passing. But, as someone who’s spent the last decade listening to top flight football more so than watching it, his voice will be a great loss. Reasoned, thoughtful, knowledgeable; proper, actual punditry which will be much missed – especially when, in his place, the mic is taken by Robbie Savage, jack of all opinions, master of none.
Taylor did these things, not to look good – he did them without fanfare, without self-promotion, simply because they were the right things to do. In a world of hyperbole and money and egos, Taylor showed you don’t have to go along with it, and remained humble, decent and approachable to the last. I can think of no greater legacy to leave – no greater way to be remembered.
INSIDE THIS ISSUE 5 9 10 12 14 16 18 19 20 22
The Bernard Glover Diaries In Off the Post Bag Marshall Matters Go Away Howard’s Marks Voice of the Pop Side Follows the Rovers Coach’s Corner For Peat’s Sake Conference Calls
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23 24 26 29 30 32 34 36 38 39
Remembering the First Time Jack the Miner’s Coal Face Lazarus Comes Forth In the Bleak Midwinter Gary Brabin Memorial Lounge Beneath the Statue Waugh, Huh, Yeah Windmills of Your Mind Reg Ipsa; Legal Beagle Trump on Rovers
But what relevance does this have to us? Well, on a similar thread, albeit on a more local level, the recent signing of Alfie May was particularly pleasing on a number of fronts. Firstly, I’m very much in favour of our post August approach of only signing strikers called Alf. Hopefully now the club can move on to only signing full-backs called Bert or Roy and midfielders called Fred or Ken.
Football is a mess – led by the greed of the few, with little care given for the comparatively low wealth of the many. Though it’s becoming increasingly clear that we cannot change the will or minds of those at the top, that doesn’t mean we have to go along with it. We can be different; we can focus on our community and our locality and filter out the nonsense and the banter and we can do things honourably and decently. We will never be the greatest club in the world, but we can be the best at what we do, and how we do it. And there are few better ways to be remembered than that.
More seriously it’s encouraging to see the club look to hungry non-league talent rather than money-orientated academy graduates who’ve coasted along having already been paid more than any of us will earn in a lifetime, before they’re legally old enough to rent a van. But, most satisfying, was the manner in which his signing was made. It can’t be easy, losing your brightest talent, but Hythe Town’s manager was happy to point out that of the clubs looking at May ‘Doncaster were keenest and, after a bit of negotiation, settled on a deal we are happy with, including a sell-on percentage. They were astute, but fair and professional, and didn’t play the big club-little club card’. I like this. I want to know that my club is respected, that it is seen as a good club, that does things the right and decent way. There were other ways in which we could’ve turned May’s head, but we didn’t entertain them, and that’s as pleasing as it is reassuring.
FSF FANZINE OF THE YEAR
So, as you probably know, we went and won a bloody trophy. You’ll also know we don’t do this fanzine for awards. Instead, we do it to give an independent platform for Rovers fans, and to give something back to our community. But, to be quite frank, I’m still absolutely blown away by this. I’ve put my heart into this fanzine for years, so to see something I’m so passionate about, and so committed to, acknowledged and rewarded is absolutely incredible. So thank you to all who’ve written for the ‘zine, sold it, or just read it. That’s the first bit of silverware of the season sorted. Your move, Rovers.
We live in a very peculiar time; one where being kind and understanding of others is perversely framed as a negative trait. Where once you were just being decent, now you’re ‘virtuesignalling’. It can make you feel helpless, lost even. How do you alone stem what seems to be a global tide of intolerance and suspicion orchestrated by those with least at stake? 4
THE BERNARD GLOVER DIARIES TOP OF THE LEAGUE, WE’VE HAD WORSE WINTERS. GO ON, SPOIL YOURSELF, RELIVE THE LAST EIGHT WEEKS SATURDAY 26 NOVEMBER ROVERS 3-1 LEYTON ORIENT
SATURDAY 3 DECEMBER STEVENAGE 3-4 ROVERS
I noticed ahead of kick-off how the doom and desperation of last season has been replaced with a happy assuredness. Leyton Orient were there for the taking, and Rovers duly piled on the pressure; John Marquis had a point-blank header brilliantly saved by Alex Cisak; and from the resulting corner first Tommy Rowe and then Andy Butler struck the woodwork. Yet it was to be Orient who took the lead; Callum Kennedy with an unstoppable 35-yard free-kick.
Remind me never again to use the word ‘comfortable’ in a half-time update regarding Rovers. Three goals to the good with Stevenage having threatened only once, what could possibly go wrong? It took half an hour for this game to come to life; an inch-perfect James Coppinger free-kick headed home by Andy Butler the catalyst for a swashbuckling 11 minute spell that brought two further goals, from Mandeville and Matty Blair seemingly had Rovers out of sight.
When Liam Mandeville became the third player to strike the bar you might’ve wondered if this was to be our day – but then confidence abounds and so even at one nil down, it still felt that the key question was ‘when?’ rather than ‘if?’.
But in the second half Stevenage were resurgent and Rovers wasteful; leading to a nervy conclusion. Tom Pett started the fight-back, wrongfooting Marosi after a pitch-length break. Then – after Mandeville and Marquis missed chances for Rovers – the tallest left-back in football, Fraser Franks, narrowed the gap further with a fine volley.
The answer was just before halftime; Jordan Houghton firing in the equaliser through a crowded area. The goal put Rovers back in the ascendancy and they – or rather Mandeville – duly wrapped up the three points from two second half spot-kicks. Late on Orient rallied to a degree – Marko Marosi making a great reaction save from Paul McCallum’s header – but few around me looked particularly worried. If needed, there’d be more in the tank.
Crucially, Donny struck a fourth goal instantly; another perfect Coppinger free-kick swung into the path of a team-mate; this time Marquis, who’s header squeezed in off the keeper. To keep heart-rates soaring Rowan Liburd bundled in a corner in injury time, but mercifully Rovers’ first half performance proved enough. 5
Meanwhile, Darren Ferguson makes it known that Ross Etheridge, Cedric Evina and Tyler Garrett are all available for loan, as the manager shuffles his squad for the new year. ‘I always think it can be harder to get them out than it is to get them in,’ says Ferguson, a statement anyone who had their in-laws round for Christmas can attest to. Two days later Etheridge joins Conference North side Alfreton Town on a month’s loan – although it’s cut short early January – while Garrett is picked up by fifth tier Eastleigh. Despite alleged interest from a number of clubs, as the fanzine goes to print, Evina remains kicking his heels in the Cantley Park common room.
SATURDAY 10 DECEMBER PLYMOUTH ARGYLE 2-0 ROVERS A cold, wet, miserable day out in the arse end of the country, sadly didn’t get any less cold, wet or miserable as the game went on. Hopes had been high though given Plymouth had wobbled in recent weeks due, according to a bloke on the train, to them ‘experimenting with a 5-3-1 formation’. Indeed. Though Rovers controlled much of the possession they struggled to cut through a packed midfield designed to crowd us out then catch us on the break, which is what duly happened; Graham Carey latching on to a skewed pass from Andy Butler to make it 1-0. Despite controlling the ball Rovers tactically and technically beaten and when Butler conceded what looked like a soft penalty our fate had been cemented.
SATURDAY 17 DECEMBER ROVERS 1-0 GRIMSBY TOWN Despite the entire population of Grimsby decamping from the coast to the Keepmoat, Rovers prevailed to give the Mariners exactly what they deserved for leaving the country at the mercy of a surprise Dutch Naval invasion so close to Christmas.
The main taking point came late on when Mandeville’s late penalty clipped the post. Cue a disgraceful act of unsporting behaviour from the Plymouth keeper which resulted in Coppinger receiving his marching orders for an act of instinctive captaincy.
After missing that late penalty at Plymouth you’d have forgiven Mandeville for taking a back seat in this game, but instead the teenage sensation chose to show he can score goals from everywhere; curling in a glorious free-kick after just three minutes. Rovers remained largely in control from then on, but Town had their chances – most notably in the dying minutes when Luke Summerfield was just one of three Grimsby players who failed to get a crucial touch on a ball across the box.
THURSDAY 15 DECEMBER Mandeville’s excellent form is rewarded as he’s named the EFL Young Player of the Month for November. On receipt of the award Mandeville told the BBC, ‘I wasn’t really planning on being a footballer…I actually wanted to be a lawyer or an investment banker.’ So as well as nurturing a great talent, we’ve also prevented another investment banker. You’re welcome, world. 6
It wasn’t until it was showing an 30ft tall 76 minutes that Rovers troubled the scoreboard – Mandeville showing impressive nerve to resume penalty-taking duties and slot home an equaliser after Rovers had been arguably second best for large swathes of the game. Despite Rowe heading against the post late on, that’s how it finished – leaving the chief executive of One Call to wander around the car-park of Field Mill with a pointless overblown tin-pot edifice, and as well as Steve Evans he was also stuck with the un-won trophy.
MONDAY 26 DECEMBER NOTTS COUNTY 0-1 ROVERS Winning promotions usually comes down to winning closely-fought matches where grit and determination trumps flair. This was a case in point. Goalless at the break following a scrappy first half, Ferguson duly switched to a fluid 3-4-3 which gave Rovers width and helped produce the decisive goal. Mandeville feeding Rowe whose excellent cross was headed powerfully past Scott Loach by Williams. It could have been 2-0 moments later – Mandeville’s cross nodded against the woodwork by Blair.
SUNDAY 1 JANUARY What’s it all about, Alfie? Yes, yes it is, as Rovers sign forward Alfie May from eighth tier Hythe Town. ‘It is a big step, but I feel confident I can play in League Two and training every day will only improve me,’ says Cedric Evina - just kidding, it was May.
County sent on Vadaine Oliver, less a footballer, more human wrecking ball, but though his rustic play hurt both Joe Wright and the outstanding Andy Butler it didn’t alter the score. Results elsewhere meant Rovers returned to the top of the division – a day late, but a welcome present none the less.
It’s not just new arrivals bolstering the squad with the loans of both Jordan Houghton and Niall Mason, who’s done what few have done in recent years and impressed in the left back role, extended to the end of the season. Also putting pen to paper from the existing squad are Reece Fielding and Will Longbottom, as they sign their first professional contracts with the club.
SATURDAY 31 DECEMBER MANSFIELD TOWN 1-1 ROVERS With both sides sharing the same sponsor, this match was billed as the ‘One Call Derby’, which, as it happens, is also what Steve McClaren does whenever he’s out of a job. There was even a trophy up for grabs, because, y’know, there’s not nearly enough manufactured bullshit in modern football as it is. If I had to eek out an existence in Mansfield, with Steve Evans my boss, the last thing I’d want to see is a giant looming reminder of the slowness of the passage of time. Yet that’s what Town’s players have to face, playing as they do in front of the only football timepiece visible from space.
The following day, Rovers options are boosted further as Conor Grant returns on-loan. The Everton midfielder says he’s ‘delighted to be back,’ as ‘it feels like I have unfinished business with Rovers after injury ended my loan spell last season’. Nice to hear, but if he saw the end of last season I suspect he’d be thankful to have got out when he did. 7
MONDAY 2 JANUARY ROVERS 1-0 STEVENAGE
TUESDAY 10 JANUARY After signing one Alf, Rovers move to extend the stay of the other, with Alfie Beestin signing a new 18 month contract with the club. Also putting pen to paper is Tony Donaldson, 18-years-old going on 12, who joins from Runcorn Linnets after a spell training with Rovers. Donaldson will go straight out on loan to Telford United as soon as he can find an adult to drive him there.
On the stadium’s 10th anniversary, all the Rovers stars circa 2006-07 were out in force; Jason Price, Neil Sullivan, Mark McCammon, er, Rob Pacey. Yeah, y’ know, Rob Pacey. Come on… Rob Pacey. Was an unused sub… twice. Wasn’t even on the bench for the game they were there to commemorate. Yeah, that Rob Pacey. Anyway, back to players you do know and Grant went straight into the starting line-up for what proved to be a frustrating match against a side who showed why they’d won their last six matches on the road.
FRIDAY 13 JANUARY A week of mixed emotions for Ross Etheridge. The news that Marosi is set to be out for three months with the ankle injury he suffered late on against Portsmouth, would’ve doubtless given him a boost – only for Ferguson to sign Republic of Ireland under 21 international Ian Lawlor on a permanent deal the next day.
It wasn’t until five minutes from time that Rovers found the break through; Rowe finding space in the area to drill the ball across goal where Fraser Franks somehow bundled it over his own goal-line. That goal, enough to move Rovers back top of the division.
THURSDAY 5 JANUARY ROVERS 3-1 PORTSMOUTH
SATURDAY 14 JANUARY BARNET 1-3 ROVERS
Rovers waste no time to romp to victory on telly; Marquis’ header making it 1-0 inside five minutes. A point-blank save from Marosi kept Pompey at bay, though he could do little about the equaliser – swept in by Kal Naismith on the break – just before half-time.
A poor start - culminating in Mason’s underhit back-pass picking out John Akinde - saw Rovers trail after quarter of an hour in which the only joy for the travelling fans had been provided by a steward’s reasonable likeness to Trevor McDonald.
But in the second-half Rovers retook control and a fantastic sweeping backto-front move brought the second goal, rifled into the roof of the net by Tommy Rowe – a goal so emphatic the yelps of delight from popular STAND faction watching in a London bar frightened the life out of a group of women who’d the misfortune to sit beneath the pub’s big screen. The poor women would spill their prosecco again minutes later as Marquis capped off a great personal display by volleying in the third goal.
But then it clicked; Blair’s low cross controlled and finished neatly by Coppinger at the near post for 1-1 – and for the rest of the half Rovers strolled around The Hive like a dad in an under-10s kickabout. Marquis tapped in the second after Barnet gave up on the notion of defending and let three Rovers men have their own goalmouth scramble, before Coppinger swept in the third to leave the secondhalf as little more than an exercise in unspectacularly seeing things out. 8
IN OFF THE POSTBAG LOOK! WE’VE HAD SOME ACTUAL POST, SENT IN BY ACTUAL BLOODY PEOPLE!
Rovers fans, I thought I’d write as I’ve just seen Rovers beat Portsmouth 3-1, well I saw 83 mins ‘til work inconsiderately called me in early. I gave the super a bit of a spray, but he couldn’t see the relevance of it. I explained we hadn’t been on telly for a long time, and how important your (ex) local team is, but he just looked vacant - which in itself reminded me of Barnsley, Scunthorpe and Rotherham fans.
Sir, I have been spreading the word about Doncaster Rovers to my foreign friends, far from home, here in that London. Martin hailed from Wales and had absolutely no interest in football whatsoever, until I introduced him to the Mighty Rovers. And it saved his life.
I was impressed with the youth of the side and a fair bit of flowing football and in Marosi we’ve a quality keeper, bit concerned about the injury mind. After the farce of the second half of last season it’s all very refreshing and though I wasn’t happy with Darren Ferguson keeping his job at the time, I’m more than happy to say I got that wrong, like I did with Mr O’Driscoll years ago. I’ve been putting a bit away each week in case I have to fly over for the play-offs but looks like that cash can be spent on a winter vacation, as I think we’ll go straight up.
It was a big European Cup match between Chelsea and Arsenal, when a Neanderfan, approached Martin, fists bristling. ‘Who do you support, ya c**t!?’ ‘Doncaster Rovers.’ ‘Who?!’ ‘Donny Rovers’ replied my chum in his thick Welsh accent. ‘Not Chels, or the Gooners’ ‘No, it’s Doncaster Rovers all the way’. This answer so perplexed the would-be assailant, that Martin made good his escape, his faith in the team only reinforced. Big Al from New Zealand when quizzed by his father why he didn’t support a proper team, replied Donny Rovers are a proper team, sort of, just not a big one. Several of my London mates now have Rovers as their second team and we all rejoiced to watch them beat Portsmouth 3-1, in the pub of course...
I’ve listened to the fanzine podcasts, very entertaining but I would expand it a little and have new guests on, say John Coyle, Nathan Batchelor or Jack the Miner (he cracks me up. Perhaps this could be recorded in Donny before a home game.
Joseph Mattey Walworth, London, innit.
Anyway, congratulations on the award, and a belated Happy New Year to anyone connected with Doncaster Rovers, especially the fans and start planning the party in spring
Got something you want to get off your chest? Write to us via post or email to the address on page two.
Nick Clarke, Australia 9
MARSHALL MATTERS ROB MARSHALL OFFERS HIS ASSESSMENT OF ROVERS SEASON SO FAR The draw at Mansfield on New Year’s Eve signalled the half way point of this season’s league campaign. Given this milestone I began to wonder where we are as a team. I have been quite critical of Rovers’ recent seasons and recent managers, and I have written often about my frustrations of a team which has no identity on the pitch, no plan B and too often no guts or fight. So, has this changed, and how are things progressing?
We now have what I had cried out for the most; an identity. We play through the midfield for the most part – when we are at our best this is done quickly and fluidly – and without the ball we press higher up the field than in the past. But most noteworthy of all, we spend more time on the front foot dictating games, something I am sure is a big reason why Rovers’ home results are so much better.
If I were to ask a non-Rovers supporter what they knew about Doncaster Rovers playing style under Darren Ferguson I suspect their response would be mostly favourable, and I would agree. We have a style of play now, I think that is pretty clear – four at the back is the staple, as is the diamond in midfield, with either two up front or a deeper and freer James Coppinger behind a single striker.
We are also seeing a manager who now reacts when things aren’t going well and puts them right. Be it through personnel or shape the feeling is that, should one be required, there is now a plan B and one that involves more than just replacing a full back with another full back. The introduction of Mathieu Baudry has been important (along with Craig Alcock’s return), not least as it’s a relief not to have to endure Ferguson’s constant screams to a regularly confused looking Joe Wright following the young defender’s latest ambitious, and usually wayward, attempt at a 40 yard pass.
Whilst I wouldn’t go as far as Garry Birtles’ observation during Rovers televised victory over Portsmouth in comparing recent offerings to the football played under Sean O’Driscoll, performances of late have offered relief from the dearth of quality and direction suffered under a large part of Paul Dickov’s reign, and what was seen under Ferguson’s first months in charge.
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Having the work rate of a John Marquis up front and the quality and guile of Tommy Rowe and Coppinger behind him means that this side should have enough to beat most teams in this division, but it is reassuring to see the performances becoming more planned and more routine and the results being more consistent. I remember when we went behind to a wonder goal, totally out of the blue, at home to Orient. Despite blaming our ‘keeper (I am both a Yorkshireman and a Rovers fan; it’s got to have been someone’s fault!) there was always a feeling around the ground of ‘no need to panic, we’ve got this’. The confidence that we had enough to go on and win the game is the most contrasting element to last season when, if we went behind at home, immediately the confidence disappeared out of all concerned and defeat would duly follow.
If I’m honest I still believe we are missing a left back and some bite and pace in the middle of midfield. And I would rather see us play with more natural width in midfield, as the diamond sees us a bit narrow at times and sometimes further exposes our vulnerabilities at full back. At times this does invite measured, unhurried crosses into our box which leave us looking very nervous defensively and could be a big reason why, despite having two good centre backs in Baudry and Andy Butler, we have conceded a lot of goals from crosses. But though the diamond might not be my first choice, I’m happy to embrace it as an identifiable trait of a successful Doncaster Rovers team. What about the ability to roll their sleeves up and scrap and fight for a result? Well in truth we may be short of that snarling sort of a leader, but there does seem to be enough pride and confidence in the shirt to come up with an answer when the going gets tough. Indeed, incidents like James Coppinger’s red card at Plymouth, whilst not pleasant, must surely serve to galvanise the team further.
We are not the finished article by any means yet and League One, should we be fortunate enough to get back there in May, could pose questions we may struggle to answer at this moment it time. But, without getting carried away, things have most definitely improved. I wrote in the fanzine in August that lots of good things have started from Division Four and whether this is the start of something or not, as the frustrations of being a Rovers fan begin to subside, I intend to enjoy it now.
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GO AWAY! PLANNING ON WATCHING ROVERS AWAY? HERE’S OUR GUIDE TO FEBRUARY’S GAMES Next to the golf seats is an oddly cited new build cottage in which the players change, and I like to imagine, live. Like a Welsh Brady Bunch, only watchable.
Newport County Rodney Parade 10 February
Apparently Newport County FC have been given the freedom of Newport, so best to check in advance that the game is on and that the home side haven’t gone off for a kickabout in the castle or buggered off up the High Street on quad bikes or something. The venue for the 2010 Ryder Cup and the 2014 NATO summit, Newport clearly has the dirt on someone influential.
Carlisle United Brunton Park 14 February
Carlisle is one of those teams, which you always expect to be up there, by which I mean, in Cumbria. Known as The Great Border City thanks to the immaculate state in which the residents keep their flower beds, Carlisle was first established to serve the forts along Hadrian’s Wall, something of a Roman RoadChef.
What’s it famous for? Michael Sheen was born in Newport, but tends to tell people he’s from Port Talbot, which is a bit like being born in Rotherham and then telling people you’re from a different bit of Rotherham. Other people from the city include animal-voicer Johnny Morris and Goldie Lookin’ Chain, who sponsored County’s kit for their 200304 Welsh Cup campaign.
Failing to dispel the notion that loneliness leads to drink, Cumbria has more microbreweries than any other county, though given how far away they are there is a chance they could just be regular sized breweries once you finally get up close.
What’s the stadium like? As the pitch at Rodney Parade tends to reflect, County have to share their current stadium with another sport – rallycross. Just kidding, like Jamie McCombe it’s actually built for rugby rather than football, but just about gets by in the latter. Away fans are placed either on one end of the brand spanking new Bisley Stand, or on some uncovered seats left over from the Ryder Cup; fingers crossed for the former.
What’s it famous for? The Carlisle Curse, first invoked in 1525 by the Archbishop of Glasgow against the Reivers, cross-border families who stole cattle from across the border. In 1998 the city commissioned a sculpture inscribed with the words of the curse, but it was protested by local groups who blamed recent floods, foot-and-mouth, an even United’s poor form on the curse. In 1998. 12
Not wanting to bear grudges, I’d been willing to let bygones be bygones, but when I pitched up in the centre of Cambridge for Rovers’ FA Cup game last season one of the first things I saw was a mime artist ordering a crepe. It really is a different world.
Yep, 1998, whilst the rest of us were Gangster Trippin with Fatboy Slim and trying to keep Tamagotchi’s alive, the people of Carlisle were getting het up about a cursed stone as if they were living an episode of Father Ted. Other things Carlisle is famous for in no particular order; the blond lass off Blue Peter who unicycled to the South Pole or whatever, Melvyn Bragg, lorries with girls names, Grant Holt and curled up sausages.
What’s it famous for? Dicking about on the river. Each year the team from University of Cambridge face Oxford University in the Boat Race, where they compete to see which institution’s graduates can most piss off the regulars of London’s riverside pubs with their loud braying obnoxiousness. Back in the city, you’ll find people punting on the River Cam, a form of boating wereby the raft-like craft are propelled by twatting an American Football at the riverbed.
What’s the stadium like? A big belting brut of a football stadium. The best thing about the swanky new all-seater East Stand is that it gives you a great view of the other three proper football stands. Behind one goal there’s an empty roofless terrace, populated only by flag; behind the other goal, the Warwick Road end, three barns strapped together under which the terrace disappears back into the darkness, possibly as far as Dumfries.
Cambridge also boasts the highest amount of cyclists in the country, one in four residents cycle to work, making it much like Amsterdam… just without the liberalism, and tea-shops in the place of fun.
Then there’s an old-school Main Stand and terrace combo, complete with the A Stand which ‘houses school children’ apparently. Impressive. How many other grounds can boast their own orphanage?
What’s the stadium like? The Abbey Stadium has brilliantly old-school terraces on two sides, but sadly you won’t be in either of them. Instead you’ll be in an off the shelf subbutteo stand located roughly half a mile back from one of the goals in a neighbouring allotment.
Cambridge United Abbey Stadium 28 February
Also, look out for the banner proclaiming Amber Army, because nothing says hardcore ultra mentality, like the colour of cautiousness.
In my first year of university I met a girl from Cambridgeshire. She’d been up north once, she said, ‘It was weird, the houses were all joined together’. That’s the difference between them and us – they view terraces as a novelty. 13
HOWARD’S MARKS HOWARD BONNETT CONTINUES HIS NON-LEAGUE TOUR OF YORKSHIRE, AT WHITBY TOWN Wearing a blue home strip based on the strip worn by Sampdoria (that’s in Italy to the less geographically adventurous among you) and not dissimilar to the away kit Rovers wore in 2012-13, Whitby are managed by Chris Hardy who joined them from Guisborough Town a year ago. Having saved the club from relegation last season, he’s now got them on a roll and they were up to fourth in the table at the time of my visit.
Continuing my forays to our nonleague neighbours I headed to Whitby on Boxing Day to see what their game against Blyth Spartans would offer. The date was my wife’s choice as much as my own – banishing me from the house on the back of the previous day’s sprout consumption. As those on the terrace will testify – she was right to do so.
Whitby’s squad has a Rovers connection with Ben Askins in defence. I’d hoped to have time to chat with him about his time in Rovers Academy before his release last summer, but sadly he suffered a bad injury in a pre-season friendly and hasn’t appeared since. Those of you on Twitter may be familiar with the Town captain, Mark Robinson. A close friend of James Coppinger, the two grew up together in the North East. Robinson played at left back, and had a good game.
There has been football in Whitby for over 100 years and a Town team since 1926. The club moved to their current Turnbull Ground in 1929, and aside from a new cantilever stand in 2004 little has been done to the ground since. The capacity is 3,500 though it is seldom tested with attendances usually 300 or less. Whitby currently play in the Northern Premier League Premier Division, the seventh tier of English football and though success has been hard to come by, they did win the FA Vase in 199697 and reach the second round of the FA Cup in 1983-84 and 1985-86. They were only prevented on doing so again in 1986-87 by defeat in a first round replay to Doncaster Rovers; a match I’m sure many of you remember.
Getting decent support in a town of just over 13,000 people is hard going. Fans commentate on each game using Whitby Town Radio and their digital efforts, known as the ‘Cod Cast’, show that having some northern blokes talking a load of guff about football isn’t a gift that only Popular Stand offers. 14
The second half was delayed due to problems with the nets in one of the goals. Given Whitby’s fishing heritage the irony of this resonated somewhat. When it did get going it mirrored the first forty-five, with Blyth playing better with the wind behind them. I’d moved to the terrace for the second half, where it paid to be careful putting your feet down, as a number of those watching had brought their dogs in. Watching from here was one of the coldest experiences of my life. As I write this, two days later, only one of the ‘chipmunks’ has dropped down. The other one, and Alvin, remain shrunk from view.
The fans I did meet were enjoying an unexpected good season. They told me the new manager had brought many of his players with him, and that they played in a well drilled way. Given the difficulties of instilling a game plan when they only train twice a week (or once if there’s a mid-week game) this was pretty impressive. They usually play with wing backs, like the Rovers, but on my visit they reverted to a back four after 15 minutes. The Blyth fans came in good number and volume with many of them having dressed for the 40mph December sea winds by putting a football shirt on. Their numbers helped double the usual attendance to 612. Sadly the club snack bar hadn’t warmed up enough pies for such numbers and I had to settle for chips and gravy.
Whitby doubled their lead when the Blyth keeper cleared from range and was lobbed by Adam Gell’s speculative shot from his own half. The game duly warmed up, even if the rest of us didn’t, as Blyth poured on the pressure and pulled a goal back on 69 minutes; scuffed in off the keeper by Luke Armstrong. From there it was nip and tuck to the end, but finished 2-1 to send Whitby up to second in the League and right in the thick of a promotion race.
The game was fairly even though the wind – the actual wind, not mine – made for a tough game. Whitby went ahead when a poorly defended corner left a five-yard tap-in for Matthew Tymon. A few minutes later Blyth were given a penalty for a clumsy foul. Up stepped Matty Pattison, but his penalty was well saved by Whitby keeper Shane Bland who had a man of the match performance.
As for the important stuff? Admission was £10 for adults, £6 for concessions, £3 under 18s, and kids with a paying adult got in free. The programme was £2 and wasn’t a bad read.
I watched the first half from the stand which gave modest protection from the artic wind and chill, and though Blyth had the better of it, it finished 1-0. In a nod to the Keepmoat Stadium catering experience, with just one kettle and a small urn on a cold day, I spent 25 minutes queuing for a coffee. But for a quid you cannot complain. They’d warmed some pies up by then as well.
Whitby was a fun but cold day out. Good fans, nice people, decent chips and didn’t take themselves too seriously. As I walked from the ground I even joined in the locals’ chant of ‘Our chip shops are better than yours’. And as those of you who’ve been to Whitby will know. They’re not wrong. 15
VOICE OF THE POP SIDE WHY STICK WITH ONE SPORT WHEN YOU CAN PLAY TWO... IN ONE DAY. JOHN COYLE REMEMBERS CHRIS BALDERSTONE Records, they say, are made to be broken: I write this on a weekend when Wayne Rooney has equalled Sir Bobby Charlton’s goal tally for Manchester United. Rooney will soon break that record, I’m sure, but in these days of sporting specialisation no-one will match one particular record with a strong Doncaster Rovers connection. I refer to the events of Monday 15 September 1975, when one man became the only one to play in a County Championship cricket match and a Football League fixture on the same day.
Balderstone’s first honour came when Leicestershire won the Benson & Hedges Cup in 1972. By 1975, with Balderstone aged 34, Leicestershire were challenging for the County Championship and ‘Baldy’ was in the form of his life. In the summer of 1975 Chris Balderstone had left Carlisle and Rovers’ manager Stan Anderson believed he was just the experienced head to bolster a rather youthful side. Cricket commitments meant Balderstone didn’t make his debut until 6 September 1975 when he helped Rovers to a 1-0 win at Bournemouth.
John Christopher Balderstone, better known to all as Chris, was born in Huddersfield in November 1940 and had a talent for both football and cricket. He signed for Huddersfield Town in May 1958 making his first team debut just over a year later. He also joined Yorkshire CCC, and made his first appearance for them in 1961. Footballer-cricketers were not unusual in those days: two of Balderstone’s Yorkshire team mates, Ken Taylor and Brian Close, had played professional football. Two moves really advanced his winter and summer careers. In 1965 he signed for Carlisle United and he went on to enjoy ten seasons there, helping them gain promotion to the top flight in 1973-74. In 1971, he moved from Yorkshire to Leicestershire, where his captain, Ray Illingworth, moulded Leicestershire from perennial strugglers into a team capable of winning competitions.
He then played in a thrilling League Cup tie at home to Crystal Palace, managed by Malcolm Allison, whom Rovers beat 2-1. The next game, a home Division Four fixture with Brentford, had been moved to a Monday evening due to the St. Leger taking place on the Saturday. There was a problem though for Balderstone. Leicestershire started a vital County Championship match at Chesterfield against Derbyshire on the Saturday and play continued on Monday and Tuesday. If Leicestershire won they would clinch their first-ever County Championship Balderstone was desperate to play in both matches, and a plan was hatched to ensure he could do so. 16
Leicestershire batted first on the Saturday but were bowled out for a disappointing 226, Balderstone batting at No. 3 bowled for 6 by England paceman Alan Ward. Derbyshire ended the day 41-0 and would probably feel they had had the better of events.
The game itself was a bit of a disappointment. Brentford, who knew a win would put them top of the table, eventually took the lead through Johnson after an hour. With eight minutes left Steve Uzelac received a pass from a free kick and hammered a 20 yarder into the roof of the net. A 1-1 draw meant Rovers were level on points with the League leaders, but Balderstone had more work to do on the morrow.
On Monday, Balderstone’s big day, Leicestershire fought back, dismissing the home side for 211. Balderstone’s left arm spin accounted for Derbyshire’s top scorer, Alan Hill, for 42. Leicestershire then lost two early wickets, but Balderstone held firm and at 6.30pm, he was undefeated on 51. However, he had the little matter of a football match to play in an hour’s time!
On the Tuesday he resumed his innings and went on to 116, his fifth century of the season before being run out. Illingworth declared at 260-6, and although Derbyshire never looked like reaching their target of 276, they seemed like they might earn a draw, Enter Balderstone, who took three decisive wickets as the home side were out for 140. Leicestershire were Champions.
In order to execute this feat of logistics, Stan Anderson had taken on an important personal role. Along with a driver he arrived at Chesterfield at 3.30pm, when Leicestershire were still in the field. When Balderstone went out to bat, just before 5pm, Anderson must have secretly hoped every ball would bring his player’s dismissal but he was going strong when stumps were drawn. Balderstone, still in cricket gear rushed off the field, jumped into the car and sped away towards Doncaster.
Although Balderstone went on to make 45 appearances, scoring twice, in a promising but ultimately frustrating season for Rovers, it was to be the end of his professional career, in England at least. He left Rovers at the end of the season and although he played a while for Queen of the South his cricket took priority. In 1976 on the back of another fine season he was selected twice for England against West Indies, although he achieved little.
They hit town just after 7pm, but faced a further problem. Rovers’ recent good form had attracted a bigger than usual crowd and over 6,000 were heading to Belle Vue. The car was held up in traffic and Balderstone was forced to start changing in the back. Fortunately, a helpful policeman recognised Anderson and waved the car through the traffic. Soon Balderstone was running out along with his team-mates.
He carried on with Leicestershire until 1986, and then became a distinguished umpire, standing in two international matches. He was still an active umpire when he died, following a short battle with cancer, in March 2000, aged only 59. His unique ‘double’ will surely survive for all time.
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FOLLOWS THE ROVERS ALAN BENNETT ON HOW HE FELL IN LOVE WITH ROVERS, AS TOLD TO MIKE FOLLOWS I well remember the autumn morning that I first came to the decision to venture to the old Belle Vue ground, to take in a Doncaster Rovers match. I would often spend my Saturdays visiting a kindly old chap by the name of Bernard who I’d had the pleasure of befriending quite by chance many years earlier over a cup of tea in a particularly delightful little café in Goathland.
He told me with great pride about the famous old plant works in his home town of Doncaster. Well I never knew that there was so much to learn about steam locomotives but the more he said the more I must admit that I became quite intrigued and by the time my cup was dry I had made a note of his telephone number and promised to look him up next time I was in Doncaster.
I had only popped in to take brief shelter from the icy drizzle that sometimes descends on the Moors and I must have cut quite a forlorn figure as I paused to unzip my anorak and wipe the rain from my spectacles. There was barely a seat to be had in the whole place but Bernard beckoned me to share his table; gingham-clothed with a single carnation drooping wearily in a chipped vase and one of those novelty tomato-shaped sauce bottles for which I’ve never really cared a great deal.
Well, as I said I got to the habit of visiting Bernard on many a Saturday to share a flask of tea as we sat by the sidings of the East Coast Main Line, but as is so often the trait of men in Yorkshire towns, come the afternoon, he would usually go gallivanting off to the match. I never really saw the appeal of football but I agreed that I’d give it a go, and so it happened that one October day when I was at something of a loose end I found myself walking with Bernard down the rather aptly named Bennetthorpe to see what all the brouhaha was about.
I ordered a pot of Earl Grey from a lady who was what my mother might have called ‘ruggedly built’, but no less charming for it as she obliged with a cheery smile, bringing over a mismatched periwinkle teapot and willow patterned cup. Bernard struck up a little small talk about the locomotives of the North York Moors Railway and such like, to pass the time as we waited for the rain to ease.
We took a thermos and a slice each of pork pie from Doncaster market wrapped in a handkerchief. I always prefer a humble Yorkshire pork pie to the more famous variety from Melton Mowbray. There’s something in the coarse cut and pinkish-hue of a Yorkshire pie that takes me back to the happy, carefree summers of my childhood. 18
As we made our way along the footpath, littered as it was with the fallen autumn leaves I glanced around at my fellow match-goers and felt my apprehension starting to lift as I saw many a dad and lad with red and white scarf and hat going to cheer on their team. The scene reminded me somewhat of that famous Lowry painting of people going to the match, the name of which I’m afraid I can’t recall as I write.
COACH' S CORNER EY UP READERY. I’VE SHOUTED MY INSIGHTS FROM THE STANDS FOR DECADES. FOR DECADES! THAT’S IT, THAT’S IT. DECADES! NOW THE ZINE HAS ASKED ME TO SHARE MY INSIGHT. SHARE IT! SHARE IT! NOW! SHARE IT! BY WRITING A COLUMN! WRITING!
Any road, having bustled through the turnstile with a satisfying clack, there’s one thing that I remember most vividly about that day. More so even than the scent of tobacco and fried onions that drifted along the terrace. Even more vivid than the surprisingly strong vocabulary employed by the lady who sold knitted dolls by the dugouts. Aye, the thing that got me hooked on Doncaster Rovers was the sight of that luscious Vikette, she with the dark hair and sturdy backside, doing her half-time dance routine. By, Bernard and I were cream-crackered just watching her.
NOW, I’M WRITING A COLUMN FOR THE FANZINE. TYPING LETTERS, TYPING LETTERS, TYPING LETTERS! FULL STOP NOW, AND THEN A COMMA. FULL STOP AGAIN THERE. AND AGAIN. EXCLAMATION NOW! AND NOW! THAT’S IT. READ IT. GO ON KEEP READING. READ THIS SENTENCE. AND THIS ONE. AND THIS ONE. READ IT! READ! NEW PARAGRAPH NOW. THAT’S IT START AGAIN. PUT A FEW MORE WORDS DOWN. MORE WORDS. TYPE AND MOVE, TYPE AND MOVE. THAT’S IT. NICE AND SIMPLE. KEEP IT SIMPLE. GIVE. THAT’S IT. GIVE THEM! GIVE THEM! AND SOME MORE NOW! YEP, THERE YOU GO. JUST KEEP THIS UP NOW. STEADY. STEADY! STEADY! MORE WORDS NOW! AND MORE AGAIN! WOAH, WHERE YOU GOING?! HEY! HEYYY!!!! DON’T TURN THAT PAGE, WHAT YOU PLAYING AT? GET BACK HERE NOW! GET BACK! NO, DON’T YOU TURN IT! DON’T TURN! NO! HEY!!
POPULAR STAND DONATES £1,000 TO LOCAL CHARITIES At Christmas the fanzine delighted to be able to donate another £1,000 to good causes in Doncaster. The donation was split between four charities who provide valuable local support services, with each of the following groups receiving £250 each; DonMentia, Guru Nanak’s Free Kitchen, Doncaster Rape & Sexual Abuse Counselling Service, and South Yorkshire Women’s Aid (Doncaster). Thank you to all who bought popular STAND in 2016 to make this possible. 19
FOR PEAT’S SAKE JACK PEAT TAKES A LOOK AT TV’S INFLUENCE ON FOOTBALL It may seem hard to picture now, but there was a time when Jeff Stelling was nothing more than a junior hack on the Hartlepool Mail, Chris Kamara was playing less than ‘unbelievable’ football for the Navy in Portsmouth and Paul Merson was hightailing it from any rehabilitation centre he landed himself in. I mean, what did we do without Soccer Saturday? What did we do without lunchtime, dinnertime and suppertime kick-offs? What did we do without constant consumption of football? Christmas has always been silly season for televised coverage of football, but this year it seemed to have upped a notch. Nineteen EFL matches were aired on Sky Sports, including their festive promo of 10 games in 10 days, and next year is set to get worse. With a shortened season to help England prepare for the 2018 World Cup the Premier League has confirmed that a draft fixture schedule could see clubs playing six games in 17 days. It is perhaps not overly surprising therefore that come the much-hyped third round of the FA Cup on the first weekend in January you have a few managers topping and tailing their squads.
This time around Jurgen Klopp selected the youngest starting XI in Liverpool’s history for their 0-0 draw against League Two side Plymouth, Eddie Howe made 11 changes and Manchester United made nine amidst widespread indictments that the magic of the FA Cup has been lost. Well, it certainly hasn’t from the fan’s perspective, but from the club’s perspective it must be hard to be enthused about anything when their pants are still hanging around their ankles after Sky Sports’ festive romp. Television has a lot to answer for in regards to the current state of the beautiful game, and it’s something worth exploring in the aftermath of our clash with Barnet. For it was there, over 70 years ago, that the first live television match was broadcast by the BBC from The Bees’ former Underhill home; an Athenian League clash against local rivals Wealdstone. I say ‘live’ but the whole game wasn’t televised, with only some of the first half and another section of the second half making it live on air before impending darkness called a halt to events. The Beeb subsequently covered the odd international and FA Cups but it wasn’t until a rival broadcaster came along in the shape of ITV that we saw the dawn of live coverage as we know it today. 20
Fast forward a decade or two through Match of the Week, Match of the Day, Jimmy Hill’s chin and John Motson’s sheepskin coats and you get to the point when it all started going wrong for English football; Sky Sports and the dawn of the Premier League. Forget what you think you know about rich oligarchs or American moguls, the excessive wealth of the EPL is bankrolled by two partners today; Sky and BT. Each have parted with sizeable sums to allow teams like Crystal Palace to sign three players for over £50 million this summer and let Bournemouth part with £35 million despite playing their home fixtures in a stadium with an 11,464 capacity. For the wonders it has done for clubs like this the real questions should be over what these deals have done for the everyday supporter Joe Bloggs the footy fanatic. For my money, I would argue they have done very little.
I found it hard to keep a straight face when FIFA president Gianni Infantino came out to defend the expansion of the World Cup to 48 teams, insisting the change was based on ‘sporting merit’ and not to make money. Because it’s all about the money today. Football stadia serve to do little more than house live audiences for TV consumption, which is why most players run to the camera rather than the fans when they score a goal – they know who is paying their hyper-inflated wages, and it’s not the thousands of people watching live, it’s the millions watching at home. But if they’re not careful the whole thing could soon come falling down. Figures from the first half of the season reveal that ratings for live Premier League matches on Sky Sports are down by a fifth and that on one particular Tuesday BT Sport’s Champions League figures were down by 40 per cent. As more people move to streaming services, TV subscriptions - the bread and butter of the deals – are dropping and there are early signs the whole thing up is starting to crumble. A minor financial crash, perhaps?
First of all, they have priced most supporters out of the market. The folk on the cricket boards and golf councils may scratch their heads each year when participation levels go down, but if most kids can’t watch the Ashes or truly experience the final day of The Masters then no wonder less folk are playing. And for us old gits, who have left our playing days behind, there isn’t much room for celebration either. We pay out £90 at home and then an extra 50p on the pint just so the local can show Burnley v Stoke on a Monday night. The consolation? Gary Neville’s on telly, and he knows what he’s talking about.
Maybe, but until that point we should still reflect on what has happened to the game since that wintery afternoon in Barnet. 21
CONFERENCE CALLS CHRIS KIDD LOOKS AT A MAN WHO ARRIVED AS A PLAYER, YET LEFT AS ONE OF ROVERS GREATEST MANAGERS Dave Penney signed for Rovers after leaving Cardiff City in August 1998 and made his debut at the end of that month. His most notable contributions in that first season came in the FA Cup, scoring the only goal at Roots Hall as Rovers upset Southend – one of 31 appearances as Rovers battled relegation to the Northern League.
DAVE PENNEY FACT FILE BORN: 17 AUGUST, 1964 ROVERS APPEARANCES: ROVERS GOALS:
DEBUT: 29/08/1998 vs KINGSTONIAN Astute signings such as Steve Foster, Mark Albrighton and John Doolan helped turn Rovers’ season around and things looked promising for 2002-03. Of course we all know what happened that season, as Rovers stay in non-league was ended as they won the first ever Conference Play-offs under Penney’s stewardship. Known for fast flowing football played down the flanks that Conference side was a joy to watch, and this achievement alone would’ve been enough to ensure Penney’s place in supporters’ hearts.
His second season eight goals in 39 appearances for Penney who was often good value for a 25 yard thunderbolt that’d often almost break the netting. Perhaps one of his most important goals that season came in the final of the McMillan (Conference) Trophy against Kingstonian. A one-legged affair, played at Belle Vue, which Rovers won 2-0 to retain the trophy they’d first lifted 12 months earlier. That season also saw Penney’s first foray into management, taking a joint-caretaker role with Mark Atkins following the sacking of Ian Snodin, and steering Rovers away from relegation to the sixth tier. The following season, as Rovers continued to rebuild, Penney was back purely as a player, making 29 appearances and chipping in three goals. It was in 2001-02 that Penney would really begin to set out his ambitions. With the sacking of Steve Wignall in December in 2001 Penney, who’d also been running the reserve side, was given the manager’s job on a temporary basis. After a good start, he was given the reigns permanently and gradually manoeuvred Rovers from mid-table to a fourth place finish.
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But, the success didn’t stop there. Further impressive recruitment of players, such as Michael McIndoe, Leo Fortune-West and Dave Mulligan, helped Rovers go head to head with much fancied Hull City for the Division Three title – taking it in style. Penney oversaw Rovers first couple of seasons in League One, including the Carling Cup run which brought victories against Manchester City and Aston Villa before defeat to Arsenal in the Quarter Final. Unfortunately for DP a slow start to the following season would ultimately cost him his job and he departed Rovers in August 2006 as one of the club’s most successful managers and very much a club legend. 22
REMEMBERING THE FIRST TIME 1997-98 WASN’T A GREAT SEASON FOR ROVERS, BUT IT WAS DAN McKAY’S FIRST AS A FAN I remember the click of the Pop Side turnstile as I followed my dad to his usual spot just past the halfway line, where – because of his superstition – he wouldn’t allow me to see kick-off as it was apparently unlucky, though I have my suspicion that was just so he could have an extra pint.
The first Rovers game I ever attended was the home match against Brighton & Hove Albion on 4 October 1997. I was 13, and I remember my dad taking me to the Park Hotel before the match. I have recollections of other supporters there who were organising protests against Mark Weaver and Ken Richardson, the ownership who were running the club into the ground. Up to then I’d had no idea how bad things had got at Rovers, but it really looked like the club might go out of business if they got relegated to the Vauxhall Conference.
Rovers scored a screamer through midfielder Harvey Cunningham, but Brighton were too strong and ran out 3-1 winners. But with the smell of Bovril and the banter on the Pop Side, even though crowds were dwindling, I realised how much more enjoyable live football was over watching Sky Sports. As such, I’ll always be grateful to my late dad, for I’ve witnessed so many highs and lows in nearly twenty years since, watching the beloved Rovers.
I also had no idea that from this game onwards I would be absolutely hooked on the Rovers; even if they didn’t win.
23
JACK THE MINER’S COAL FACE WHY CAN’T FIFA AND THE FA JUST LEAVE FOOTBALL ALONE, WONDERS JACK THE MINER A website recently referred to FIFA’s proposed expansion of the World Cup to 48 teams as ‘the most ludicrous experiment in football since Doncaster Rovers’ ill-judged venture with Premier League has-beens.’
However, as the Football Association were still struggling to separate its identity from other ball games in the 1800s, they introduced rules to limit this freedom for the keeper to run with the ball in hand. And so a rule was introduced that said, ‘The goalkeeper may, within his own half of the field of play, use his hands, but shall not carry the ball’.
Well, it’s nice to be remembered even if it’s for the wrong reasons, but it makes a valid point. After two years of qualifying rounds – which will exist purely to get rid of Gibraltar, San Marino, the Faroe Islands, Bhutan and Chinese Taipei – we will witness an already bloated finals turn into a tedious two-month bore-fest as Gary Lineker and chums try to convince us that a group-stage collision between El Salvador and Finland is a must-see Clash of Titans.
However, some goalkeepers in the football hotbed of South Yorkshire, with more brains than the lawmakers, realised that if they bounced the ball basketball style up to the halfway line, before hoofing the ball downfield into the heart of the opposition area, they were still playing within the rules. Inevitably, after complaints – presumably from namby-pamby teams down south – the law was amended so that goalkeepers could only handle the ball inside their own penalty areas.
It’s doubtful FIFA will regard it as a failure. Whatever the outcome they’ll make a mint, which is the only reason it’s on the table for consideration. Yet whilst Rovers’ dalliance with Willie McKay and pals might have been a one-off cock-up, those who make the laws of the game have a long history of presiding over other failed innovations.
Although they’ve had a little fine tuning from time to time, the laws of the game duly enjoyed decades of acceptance from around the world, from pretty much everyone that is, except those running the game, who just couldn’t leave the bloody things be.
An early version of footy rules stated a ‘goalkeeper can handle the ball anywhere inside his own half of the pitch’. 24
One idea that was deemed an initial success by all parties was the 10 yard advancement rule for dissent, whereby the referee could move the ball 10 yards nearer the goal if there was dissent following the awarding of a free-kick. It had worked for years in rugby and initially seemed to be doing the trick in football.
In the early 1990s, the Diadora (now Ryman’s) League was asked to trial kick-ins instead of throw-ins for a season. The result was 90 minute non-stop aerial bombardments as full backs belted the ball downfield to the immune-from-offside big number 9 who had taken up residence on the penalty spot for the bulk of the game. The trial was abandoned after a few weeks.
However, in a shock development that suggests not all players in the Premier League are graduates of the Ashley Cole School for Advanced Thickos, some defenders worked out that if they deliberately invoked the advancement rule they could bring the ball so close to the goal that it was short of the distance their opponents’ free-kick experts could hit it from. The ploy caught on and the Football League was forced to revise its thinking before FIFA stepped in and killed the idea for good.
The offside rule has had a number of tweaks in isolated competitions. The old Watney Cup had a go at applying offside only within the penalty area and the Scottish Cup competitions briefly applied the rule only within a Subbuteo-style 18 yard line. Neither were thought of as a success, but it didn’t stop the organisers of the Football Conference from meddling with it again in the 1987-88 season. They dictated that no attacker could be offside directly from a free-kick. It didn’t take long for the idea to be scrapped. Free-kicks from virtually any position on the pitch were duly wellied straight down the opposing goalkeeper’s throat as the big men poured forward and penalty areas were packed with everyone but the attacking side’s goalkeeper. Presumably Martin Allen saw quite a few of these games and made a note to adopt similar tactics should he ever become a manager once his playing days were over.
Clearly, you can’t entrust the beautiful game to players who want to kick the leather off the bladder and you can’t trust authorities intent on picking at the game like a five year old picking at a crusty scab. Presumably FIFA will keep fiddling about and will always be in need of Germolene and a plaster which is why we should be ever so slightly miffed at having someone compare ‘The Experiment’ with the efforts of Infantino and his predecessors. It might have been a disaster but at least it was our disaster and as a bonus we got to see El Hadji Diouf ’s gold plated Cadillac, Pascal Chimbonda’s white Armani suit and Herita Ilunga’s impersonation of a professional footballer.
It doesn’t take a genius to detect there’s something of a recurring theme here. 25
LAZARUS COMES FORTH DO CLUBS HAVE A LEVEL WHICH IS RIGHTFULLY THEIRS? LAZARUS DOESN’T THINK SO Nonetheless, one thing that often resonates when chatting with other football fans is the existence of an unwritten consensus regarding the ‘true’ status of every club; implying the Football League is an unwelcome distraction that either prevents teams from enjoying the accolades to which they’re due, or which rewards other teams with successes they don’t deserve.
Many years ago, during my formative youth, I read a reader’s letter to a football magazine, which I’ve never forgotten. I think I related to it as it was written by a long-suffering Bury fan bemoaning their relentless misfortune in the lower leagues. Yet it ended with a wistful ambition. He wanted to see Bury back in the second tier, ‘where they belong’. I recall being curious about this choice of phrase, and confused about how any team – let alone one which had been part of the furniture in the third and fourth tier for as long as I’d followed football – could claim a spiritual right to higher status. I was of course aware Rovers had once been a second-tier club, but at the time that was all a bit of a pipe dream to a young boy shivering through another Belle Vue goalless draw.
It’s hard to go five minutes in a conversation with a Leeds fan without their club being described as ‘massive’ or ‘champions of Europe’, or without getting a sense they’ve somehow been repressed by the conspiratorial powers that be. Pundits recently described their fixture with Newcastle as ‘a Premier League match in all but name’, while ruminating how it could possibly be that teams with 40,000 crowds were being excluded from top-tier football. Dion Dublin has even gone so far as to describe Sheffield United as a ‘Premier League standard club’ despite their ongoing penchant for being named League One favourites every season.
Yet, just as Rovers would do many years afterwards, Bury did indeed reach the second tier promised land in 1997. They lasted two seasons before relegation, albeit on goal difference, and have remained in the lower two divisions ever since, making those two years their only second tier soiree in the past fifty. As such, nowadays surely only the most rose-tinted Shakers fans would argue they are sleeping giants. Leeds fans endure the pain at being left two rungs below their perceived level in 2008. Opposite: Burton celebrate becoming ‘The likes of Burton’
26
It’s not as if any of us are immune – was it not the underlying sense of injustice at being in non-league which made Rovers’ post-Richardson return from the Conference even more sweet? Similarly, there’s an argument to be made that officials can be affected by a club’s perceived size or status, when making vital decisions during a game; a phenomenon which invariably works against those teams deemed to be punching above their weight.
These days the Championship is infected with many once-great teams who boast top-flight achievements, each sneering at ‘the likes of ’ Barnsley, Rotherham, Burton, or any other ‘tinpot’ club that dare think they’re worthy of competing as equals. During our own stay in the second tier, on several occasions, losing to Rovers proved to be the final insult which earned a club’s manager his P45. That phrase, ‘the likes of ’, is used to refer to any club deemed unworthy of their current status, with even champions not spared from its condescending tone. The widespread disbelief that accompanied Leicester’s ascent to immortality suggested we were witnessing some kind of elaborate magic trick, as if their entire season was a flash mob orchestrated to make the sport go viral.
The question is, where does this consensus come from? It can’t simply be a by-product of local identity squabbles, and even though the media perpetuate it, pundits aren’t exactly a catalyst for popular opinion; not unless they’re being universally derided for tweeting something ridiculous. Undeniably, there’s a link between a club’s financial outlay and their associated expectations of success. And teams with larger fanbases will not only have more monetary might working in their favour, but the collective ambitions of more people driving that expectation.
Even their ultimate success was deemed to be more down to the collective failures of ‘big’ teams to claim what was rightfully theirs, rather than an effective team with effective management picking up ten points more than anyone else. Though given the way this season is going, one could almost be forgiven for wondering if it was indeed all some Murdoch-driven masterplan to make football cynics believe in the wonder of the game again, and duly fork out for another Sky subscription.
But is this right? Do we all want the ultimate aim of football to be ensuring that clubs are rewarded based upon their spending power? Are we destined to spend the next decade watching a social media power grab for any of the planet’s football fans yet to pledge allegiance (i.e. finance) to a particular club’s multinational brand? 27
LAZARUS COMES FORTH
CONTINUED FROM PAGES 26 AND 27 Of course we don’t. Not unless you’re the kind of person who believes improving Far Eastern revenue streams is more important to a football club than tactical proficiency, or that expanding social media reach should take precedence over engaging with your local community. As such, we as fans are left with a simple choice, if we are to avoid this kind of bullshit-driven dystopia within the game; we need to reject the consensus and revel in the chaos.
JOHN BUCKLEY
In Next between Christmas and New Year, and again in Dunelm in January. Looking as enthusiastic about it as the rest of us. @matchstickowen
THORSTEN STUCKMANN
We need to enjoy the ‘impossible’ league titles of relegation favourites like Leicester. We need to be inspired by Bournemouth’s meteoric rise to a level that upsets people who think they’re more deserving of a Premier League place because they won a trophy in the 1970S. We need to enjoy that there are ‘tinpot’ Championship teams whose presence there means relegated Premier League starlets visit dressing rooms without heated floors for once in their lives.
Looking like he’d lost a fiver and found a penny, whilst walking with his two kids around the lake, just before the Stevenage game. @Craigthefub
TIM RYAN
At the Comedy Club in Doncaster. @NeilMarshall67
JAN BUDTZ
We need to celebrate all the underdogs who spit in the face of the status quo and show egocentric glory-hunters that sometimes success comes from talent and hard work rather than the wallet of some morally dubious oil baron. And if, on some day yet to come, Bury once again win promotion to the second tier, I’ll smile on behalf of that long-ago letter writer not because they’ll be back up where they belong, but simply because the general consensus suggests they don’t belong.
Bollocking his Buxton defence for leaving him pretty exposed during the Boxing Day loss at Matlock Town. @glenglenglen
MARKO MAROSI
Looking fed up in Asda, pushing a trolley behind his partner. @MCSmithDN
ALFIE MAY
At Matalan buying a whole new wardrobe with his first proper week’s pay. Three pairs of Souluxe slim fit jogging bottoms (grey) in his basket. @beetlebeard 28
IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER THE RECENT COLD WEATHER STIRRED AN OLD ROVERS MEMORY FOR MALCOLM TAYLOR In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone.
I cannot recall how, but there must have been a call for volunteers to help clear the pitch for the match versus Stockport County. I spent time helping staff and other volunteers moving snow and chipping ice. Preparing for a referee to make a decision to see if the game went ahead.
The recent cold weather reminds me of another Rovers story. The winter of 1962-63 was one of the coldest in history. From December to March, Britain endured a bitterly cold period, with 15-foot snowdrifts, rivers frozen, even the sea in harbours frozen.
The ref duly arrived, inspected and gave his approval for the game to go ahead. I continued to work for a while then was told, ‘You can clear off now lad’. No thanks, no warm drink and no free ticket for the match. Back home, something to eat and back to the ground (through the turnstile!) At last a match to watch! And I had played, of sorts, on the hallowed Belle Vue pitch!
There was massive disruption across the UK, with much of the football season impacted. So much so that, in those pre-lottery days, the football pools companies, Vernons, Zetters et al, had to find a new and novel way to keep the weekly pools going. In January 1963 the ‘pools panel’ was created. A group of ex players, including Tom Finney, Tommy Laughton and Ted Drake would, in the case of postponed matches, give their judgment as to what the result would have been, had the match been played.
I believe it was the only Fourth Division match that day, one of only seven matches that day. There is no way that that match would be played these days. I thought it dangerous and unplayable, but a match to watch. Of course, it being Rovers, not all endings are happy. The result was Doncaster Rovers one, Stockport County two.
On Saturday 9 February 1963, aged 15, I had done my morning paper round, been to school (as was the Grammar School timetable in those days) and duly went to the old Belle Vue ground.
I think we would have had a better result with the pools panel.
GET POPULAR STAND IN YOUR EARS
In September we launched the first Doncaster Rovers fans’ podcast, podular STAND. Why not give it a listen? Find previous episodes online at soundcloud.com/popularstand or by searching for ‘popular STAND’ on iTunes. 29
THE GARY BRABIN MEMORIAL LOUNGE JAMES McMAHON ON THE SAD REALISATION HIS CHANCE TO PLAY FOR ROVERS MAY HAVE GONE Every Wednesday, under a railway bridge in Shoreditch, on a threadbare 3G pitch with at least one flickering floodlight at all times, I play five-a-side football. Your Popular STAND editor Glen Wilson plays too. Last week, during his turn on the rotating chore roundabout that is ‘going in goal’, he was wearing a scarf, which angered me much more than it really should have. But he’s very good is Glen. Up there with the better players, always encouraging to the average Joes. I’ve never heard him shout ‘drop back’ ever, aware that for most of us, the weekly game is just an opportunity to freeze London life for forty minutes and have a laugh. Wheezy 30-something-men rolling back the years. Replicating the things we’ve seen on telly or at the match. Messing up more often than not. The shout of ‘time lads’ from ten strangers pitchside replacing the ‘teas ready’ my mum would bellow from the window of my childhood home all those years ago. And so last week, a few minutes after Glen had stepped out of goal, he takes the ball. He drags it past me, though in truth I’m a bit out of breath and I’m focusing more on my lungs not exploding than actually trying to take the ball off him, and, from some distance, curls the ball into the corner of the goal.
‘Mandeville’ he says, not really to me, not really to anyone, maybe to an iteration of Glen Wilson from long ago. I have accepted that I will now never play for Rovers. In truth, if I ever was serious about it, I had a funny way of going about it. I blame wearing glasses. I blame being really into drawing. I also blame being bought Gola trainers and thereby spending quite a lot of time in PE being laughed at. Because as a kid, it felt like it had been decided I wasn’t very good at football before I’d even shown whether I was or not. Mr Humble ran PE at Primary School. Rather than describe him in any real detail, I urge you to go rent Kes from any reputable online film-streaming site and then I can use the rest of my word count to fill this page with more nostalgia and pathos. And so, each week, Mr Humble would pick the boys he’d decided were the best players/looked most like members of the Hitler Youth, and lead them onto the big pitch. There they would start a game he would referee, while the remaining boys – the kid who stuttered, the kid who always went home wearing clothes too big for him and a decade out of fashion (a carrier bag of piss stained contemporary clothes hanging from his fingers), me – would be left to sort our own game in a small space behind one of the goals. 30
Each week I would dribble, shoot, pass and tackle as if my life depended upon it. I’d nutmeg the kid whose mum cut his hair, I’d knock the ball past the lad whose dad we all thought was in prison, I’d shoot the ball hard, low, past the boy who had to have a tube put in his heart. I’d cheer – I’d singlehandedly won the Misfit World Cup! I’d look over to Mr Humble; sure he’d seen my heroic feat! Mr Humble was busy shouting ‘drop back’ at the kid who’s apparently a massive Tory now. I never got to play on that big pitch.
I’ll be honest, I didn’t stop dreaming for years. I remember once, at some Belle Vue game, the details of which have evaporated from memory – but I was in the Town End, which didn’t happen too often – the ball sailing over Peter Heritages head (probably), beyond the wall, landing before me at my feet. ‘If I kick this back really well, maybe Steve Beaglehole will see something in me…’ I thought, not knowing how much that thought would make me cringe as I recalled it for an award winning Doncaster Rovers fanzine almost three decades later. I presume Steve didn’t see it.
And so I blame wearing glasses. I blame being really into drawing. I also blame being bought Gola trainers and thereby spending quite a lot of time in PE being laughed at. But after that, unquestionably, I blame fags. And chips. And cakes. And that Lucozade stuff that is miles more calorific than you’d think. Health drink? What a fucking swizz. Thing is, I know my brain gets it. I know where to put a pass. Sometimes my feet won’t listen. But I know where it should go. I think I could have been pretty good…
I’m a man now, and I’ve accepted I’ll never play for Rovers. To pull on the red and white hoops for a game I played with the Donny R’sonists at a leisure centre in Walthamstow a few years back was a thrill though, I can tell you. And sure, there are moments on a Wednesday I will mutter ‘Gary Brabin’ under my breath as I deliver a nice pass. And it’s extremely, extremely rare that I’ll look around to see if anyone saw me do it. I’ve given up on playing for Rovers, I’ve accepted it, honest.
BERNARD GLOVER’S BELIEVE IT or NOT In 1963 former Rovers Wing Half Bobby McFarlane - who made over 130 appearances for the club in the 1930s and 1940s - became the first ever recipient of a successful liver transplant. 31
FROM BENEATH THE STATUE GLEN WILSON ASKS WHY CAN’T WE JUST ENJOY WINNING WITHOUT FEARING DEFEAT? Why? I think it’s because ultimately we know that we’ve all been that guy. Some of us have spent most of our lives treating the support of our team as sentence good behaviour won’t shorten. The overriding emotion of a lower league football fan is a branch of melancholy that sits somewhere between despondence and resentment. A nagging sense of suspicion that any good spell, any cause for something approaching joy, is merely a pleasant interlude in the generally tawdry awfulness; the eye of the tornado, the commercial break in anything Piers Morgan hosts.
There’s a great photo of Liam Mandeville’s free-kick against Grimsby, taken just as the ball strikes the inside of the post. Goalkeeper already flailing, the South Stand is a blanket of expectant faces; rows of mouths all caught in the early stages of guttural roars or yells of acknowledgement of the ball’s inevitable nestling in the back of the net. All that is, except one. Just above the crossbar sits the ghost of Doncaster Rovers past – a sullen portent of doom in a nylon sports hood. Chin resolutely burrowed into the palm of his hand as he settles in to watch this shower all over again. So what if this free-kick goes in, it’s far too bloody early to score – we’re only inviting them on. Once you’ve seen him staring bleakly back out at you there’s no avoiding him, your eyes will return of their own accord. Like noticing a stain on a colleague’s shirt, no matter how much you try to steal your gaze away elsewhere, you just get drawn right back to it.
In expecting the utter worst, that guy in the South Stand is only shrugging where thousands of Rovers fans have shrugged before. He is merely a modern day adaptation of the man we adopted as the fanzine’s mascot. The sketched figure of Bernard Glover (as we subsequently discovered his name to be) is lifted from a Stuart Roy Clarke photograph, taken at Belle Vue circa 1990. As the players come jogging out the tunnel, all around our man other fans are clapping and cheering, a blur of enthusiasm. Yet Bernard stands firm, leaning on the wall, eyes fixed dead ahead, a look that says ‘here we bloody go again’. As one of our contributors remarked when we first put our incarnation of Bernard on the cover; ‘you can’t look at that face and fail to see and feel Belle Vue’. 32
Because we can’t help ourselves. We can’t help but fear the worst. Even though we’ve all seen countless games where our team has seen out that slender lead, where we’ve added to it even, such occasions of effectiveness are merely perversions of the heart, romantic idylls of what football can be, and that’s not where our heads take us. Instead they’re wedged in the railings of fate… railings we knew we wouldn’t fit through at that. Even when things are going brilliantly, every time Rovers amass a sizable lead all I hear in my head is one word; ‘Telford’. Four nil up, came home with a point. The best part of fifteen years ago and I still can’t let it go.
‘Told you’ You would be forgiven for thinking that this trait is unique to Doncaster. A gruff northern stoicism, engrained into men by nature, so as, in much the same way a baby leatherback turtle knows automatically the moment it hatches it must head to the sea, before we even know we’re doing it we’ll instinctively react to any joviality with a curtailing shrug and a grumble of ‘well, it won’t last’. But it isn’t, and I’ve video proof. And though I realise that counts for bugger all in a print publication, please, come with me.
But if there’s a time to do so it’s now. Watching Rovers is fun again. We’re no longer trying to be the Archbishop of Banterbury on social media. We’re top of the league. We’ve a good team, we’ve got youth team graduates and non-league finds and James Coppinger is still doing it. And you know what, fuck Telford. Fuck their lummocking great centre-half who suddenly went all Hugo Sanchez on us in the 91st minute to scissor-kick in the equaliser. Fuck the fact they only had ten men. Fuck the fact that I’d forgotten that bit until I just looked it up causing unnecessary further pain. Fuck all eight goals being down the other end of the sodding pitch. It’s time to treat winning as a joy again, rather than just as a temporary state that precedes the inevitable equaliser. Let us push on, let’s be happy, and let’s embrace a new era of enthusiasm… just so long as we can all agree to forget about this article if we lose this afternoon, yeah? I’ve just got this feeling you see.
Boxing Day. Home Park. Plymouth. 89th minute. Edited highlights. Argyle are 3-2 to up against Wycombe Wanders and just about hanging on for a win. Wanderers launch one last attack, the ball is laid off for Myles Weston and he curls a glorious equaliser into the top corner. There are cheers away off to the right of the camera from the away end, but above them one lone, clearly audible, West Country voice. ‘Told you’. A one-off? No. Haifa. Israel. High up in the Sammy Ofer Stadium. Wales lead 3-0, Israel are down to ten men, there are just seven minutes to go, when a hand taps me on the shoulder and man who I’ve never met before leans forward and says ‘I’d take a point now’. 33
WAUGH, HUH, YEAH DAVE WAUGH OFFERS UP SEVEN THINGS HE FEELS WOULD IMPROVE FOOTBALL Trevor Kettle hanging up his whistle
Give referees a green card One of the best moments of this season was seeing Stevenage players, who began time-wasting during the pre-match kick about, moaning and complaining when Rovers did the same after taking the lead late in the game. Their righteous indignation was a joy to behold. If referees had a green card which they could hold up to indicate an additional minute should be added every time a team wasted time, the Shaun Derry’s of this world might think twice about their approach.
Now you’d think a referee who had presided over 10 wins and a draw in 12 Rovers matches would be popular with the fans, and that a glass would be raised before any game he is to officiate in anticipation of another three points. But Mr Kettle is without doubt, and by some distance, the worst referee I’ve seen in 56 years. Even club officials who stood in for Sunday League games when the ref failed to turn up were better. Kettle specialises in making odd decisions which baffle both those they favour and those they penalise. He is said to have sworn at Rovers players this season and he courts controversy wherever he goes. So flawed is his decision-making that I decided to find out what he did for a living. Surely it must be a mundane job which requires little responsibility or quick thinking, I mused. Apparently, he’s an air traffic controller!
Get rid of the Checkatrade Trophy and the League Cup These could be replaced by a tournament for everyone except Premier League clubs – they are all too busy playing in Europe and counting their money and don’t take knockout competitions seriously unless they get to the final, anyway. The Checkatrade competition this year has been farcical and gates have plummeted, but a tournament which gives lower division teams a reasonable chance of playing at Wembley is a good idea. It has always seemed wrong that Championship clubs don’t get the advantage that League One and Two have, so including them would be both fair and would enhance the competition.
Introduce safe standing areas and enforce sitting down in other areas. At the moment, watching Donny away tends to involve staring at the back of slack-jawed youths, who ignore all pleas from parents and the elderly to sit down so that they can see. Standing areas would generate atmosphere and would make watching football more of a pleasure for those who would rather sit. 34
Give more penalties for shirtpulling and such in the penalty area When Mike Dean set about a oneman mission to do this earlier this season, there was outrage in some quarters. ‘If you do that there’ll be 20 penalties a game,’ said Alan Shearer. No, Alan, there won’t. Unless players are particularly stupid, they will stop pulling shirts because they know they’ll be penalised if they do. There could be one penalty a game, or possibly two if defenders are really cretinous, and we’d all enjoy seeing more goals anyway.
DONNY R’SONISTS UPDATE Saturday 17 December
DONNY R’SONISTS 3 GRIMSBY INTERNET MARINERS 2 The R’sonists were looking for their first win of the season as they welcomed the Internet Mariners to the Keepmoat Athletics stadium, though it looked like they could be in for a tough morning when Grimsby launched an attack straight from kick off. Luckily it was to no avail.
Include some pundits on televised football who weren’t dirty players Why does Martin Keown get to talk about giving people ‘little reducers’ and other dark arts? Then there’s Shearer, Robbie Savage, Roy Keane and Graeme Souness. Kids watch these programmes and then copy what the pundits preach. Just listen next time you walk past a children’s match and you’ll hear cries of ‘Snap him!’ and such. There must be better role models out there who can string a few sentences together.
Five minutes before half-time and somewhat against the run of play, the R’sonists took a surprise lead through a thumping solo goal from Andy Harriman. Five minutes after they break, they repeated the trick; this time James Critchlow hitting the solo effort to double Donny’s lead. With just under half an hour left Harriman found himself in the right place at the right time to double his personal tally for the day and make it 3-0. However, the three goal cushion never felt a comfortable lead and once Grimsby pulled one back through James Hutson’s toe-poke it only felt like a matter of time ‘til they got another. Thankfully, when it did come, through Chris Hurton, there was just one minute left on the clock.
Rovers’ programme designers should receive some training After 56 years of purchasing a programme for every match, I’ve stopped buying Rovers’ home programmes, and I’m not alone. Do the designers ever try to read what they publish? Small, white font on red, orange, green backgrounds doesn’t work. The tiny font used for players’ statistics is hopeless too. The programme is now designed to look pretty rather than to be readable. The facsimiles of old programmes which often appear as inserts may not be all that informative, but they were much cheaper and infinitely more legible.
The R’sonists held out for that first win, but full credit to Grimsby for providing very close opponents in a fantastically spirited match. 35
WINDMILLS OF YOUR MIND DUTCH UNCLE LOOKS BACK OVER 55 YEARS OF FOLLOWING DONCASTER ROVERS I have been a Rovers fan since 1962. Like others of my generation I feel I have been through thin and thinner and it is still a strange feeling to have experienced the relative successes of the last fifteen years.
That was a game that I nearly missed – my father and I were wondering whether or not to go and he famously said ‘well let’s go, they might go mad and score five’, to be followed by an immortal ‘they went double mad’ after the game. As for the match itself, my abiding memory is of Rovers being a mere 9-0 up, just a couple of minutes left, and I was gradually making my way along the not particularly full Pop Side towards the Rossington End for a prompt exit at the final whistle. Albert Broadbent was strolling down the left wing with no real sense of urgency, showboating in front of the Main Stand, meandering towards the same end. No danger, I reckoned, so I sprinted up to the top of the Pop Side to get around the back of the wall and into the Rossington End and could you believe it, in those five seconds Yogi Broadbent had somehow managed to score our record breaking tenth and I missed it. I never forgave him.
My father took me to Belle Vue to watch my first Rovers match on 24 November 1962. We lost 1-4 to Tranmere in the FA Cup, had a man carried off with a broken leg (Brian Conwell), and I was hooked. I was fortunate soon after to experience the successes of the mid and late 1960s, and to experience the atmosphere of a packed Belle Vue. This is where many of my strongest and dearest memories lie, and in particular where my two boyhood heroes – Laurie Sheffield and Alick Jeffrey – etched themselves indelibly in my heart. There were many outstanding memories, including Alick’s first game back after his injury against Southport, winning 5-1 at Oakwell in a game that Barnsley dominated, playing First Division Burnley in the League Cup at Belle Vue in front of 25,000, sitting in the doomed wooden stand at the Valley Parade in the match that confirmed Rovers’ promotion, and of course the record 10-0 win against Darlington.
One player who did not score that day was Alick, who was still searching for his first goal after his comeback. This finally happened in his 15th game, at home to Hartlepools – exactly when I was away visiting family in South Wales so of course I missed that as well! However, Alick’s sublime skill – shown the following season in which he became the Football League’s leading scorer – meant all was forgiven and he would be forever untarnished as my hero. 36
Having been born in Swansea, growing up in the People’s Republic of South Yorkshire as the son of a proud local (‘you can always tell a Yorkshireman, but you can’t tell him much’) and a Welsh speaking mother had its challenges. Fortunately, moral support was on the horizon in the shape of Laurie Sheffield, also Swansea born, and now Rovers’ dynamic centreforward and partner for Alick. He outscored Alick by 28 to 22 in our glorious 1965-66 championship winning season, and in doing so provided me with much needed streetcred, proving that good things can come from the South Wales valleys.
A couple of years later I went to study at Merton College Oxford, deep in the John Smiths-less south - unifying in that it is despised by Yorkshire and Welsh folk alike. There I first learned the important art of defending the honour of supporting my local team in the face of incessant sarcasm from legions of glory hunting semisupporters (probably long since ex-supporters) of supposedly larger more successful teams. This was a great help in my subsequent task of promoting Doncaster Rovers in Germany and the Netherlands whilst living there from 1975 to 2013. For many years, before the internet changed my Rovers supporting life, this would entail searching high and low for English newspapers with football results, and desperately looking for BBC radio signals on Saturday afternoons.
The following season I saw my first matches between Rovers and Swansea, and both have traumatic memories. The first match was at Belle Vue and Rovers won 4-1 with Laurie scoring – Alick did not play, he was still recovering from injuries sustained in the tragic car crash that killed John Nicholson. This turned out to be Laurie‘s last game before being transferred to Second Division Norwich for £16,000, which was soon shown to be derisory as Laurie hit a hat-trick in his first game for them and went on to be their runaway top scorer.
I have one more special memory that is far more recent. It was that sunny April Fools’ Day in Cardiff, at the Millennium Stadium. I flew over from the Netherlands and had a reunion with my two brothers as part of, what was at the time, the largest crowd ever to watch a Rovers match. I shall never forget the experience; walking through the city to the ground, the friendly exchanges with the splendid Bristol Rovers supporters, the view and atmosphere in the wonderful stadium, the match with its twists and eventual outcome, and finally celebrating winning a trophy.
The return match at the Vetch Field on April Fools’ Day was even more traumatic for me. It coincided with another family visit to South Wales, and Rovers lost 6-0 in front of me and my cousins. Rovers were so numbingly poor that my cousins didn’t even have the heart to tease me. It didn’t even help Swansea, they were relegated to Division Four alongside Rovers that season.
A perfect day in South Wales, finally purging the trauma suffered on that Vetch Field terrace, watching Rovers lose 6-0 so abjectly, forty years earlier to the very day. 37
REG IPSA: LEGAL BEAGLE HIS LOCAL OFF-LICENCE IS HAVING A REFIT SO OUR LEGAL EXPERT IS HERE TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS SERIOUS INTENT
CABIN FEVER
Dear Reg,
Dear Reg,
The wife wanted her Christmas present to be something to bring us closer. I bought her a two-man tent so she can come night fishing with me. She’s told me to shove it up my arris. Should I keep it and enjoy the extra space or try and get my money back from the pound shop?
I don’t normally use the facilities at the Keepmoat, but having been the ale before the Stevenage game I got caught short and climbed into a cubicle for a pre match dump. Long story short, turns out it wasn’t a cubicle, but one of the new sheds they sell the programmes out of. The police charged me - what should I expect?
Dick Canvas, Scawsby
Clive Shed, Hyde Park
REG RESPONDS
REG RESPONDS
Tell you what Dick, I’ve fair ploughed through the selection boxes and the Quality Street this Christmas, so I’ll have it off you as a mu mu.
An order to clean it out you dirty sod. I hope it wasn’t the one on the South West corner – that’s my preferred post-match sleeping spot that is.
STAR LETTER ~ BADGER OF HONOUR Na then Reg, After the Grimsby home game I saw a little black and white stripe fella shuffling round the lake. looking forlorn. So I fetched them home and fed them. Ten days later they won’t leave. I’ve just realised it is in fact a badger. Any ideas? Terry Grims, Barnby Dun
REG RESPONDS Whizz it down the M1 and drop it at Meadow Lane. He’ll probably get a game given their form of late. 38
JE NE REGRETTE RIEN Dear Reg, My partner is infatuated with Matthieu Baldry. There are posters everywhere - even in the bedroom. We spend most evenings watching YouTube clips of him, admiring his looks and classy ball play on the grass. I’ve had to start to wearing a full Rovers kit and adopt a French accent to get any bed action. He’s 74 and a retired butcher. Can you help us or ‘c’est fini?’ Doris Chops, Denaby
REG RESPONDS I’m afraid I don’t know that C’est lad, so not sure if he can help you. Matthieu is a lovely looking lad. And purrs round the field as well. Try dressing yourself in a dress of offal like Lady Gaga to remind your partner of his glory days. If that fails then maybe track down the C’est fella.