TSLR051 by The Seagull Love Review

TSLR

The Albion Fanzine TSLR051 September 2013

HOLLOWAY ON THE PHONE?

HE CRYING? HE SAY HOW MUCH FOR THEM?

LOLLLL, PUT HIM ON

£1

Inside: Deadline Day Void Remembering Peter Taylor My Wedding Night With Kurt Nogan Stuff About How Football Is So Bloody Grim

the TSLR SHOP

Albion tat boutique www.tslr.bigcartel.com

Inside TSLR051 4. Editorial 5. What’s Hot, What’s Not TSLR051

6. TSLR Calendar

The Seagull Love Review is an independent Brighton and Hove Albion magazine.

9. Deadline Denouement

Issue 52 / Sep 2013

12. Midfield Diamond

The views expressed in the publication do not necessarily reflect the views of the Editors, or The Seagull Love Review. Thanks this issue to BM, JT, BM, NB, GE, JS, RM, TC, TC, DL Edited by SS and SS Artwork by SS Digital Publishing by BP

tslr@hotmail.co.uk @tslr

10. Marco Van Bastard

13. Bitter n Twisted 16. Peter Taylor 20. Reviews 24. Know Your Place 28. One Night With Nogan 30. Carter 14/22/27. Non-league Day

You know the situation. Some no-mark Sky Sports part-timer comes up to you at work and says ‘So, how are Albion getting on?’. Normally you’d just bat off some small talk about how we’re doing well/badly while figuring out how you can get yourself out of this uncomfortable situation. This season it’s a bit different though. You face the question like a reasonable man being asked his opinions on Palastine. ‘Well’ you say ‘I’m not really sure’. Within the space of 10 seconds you’ve already swung between the glass being half full and indeed half empty. The nause asks about life post-Gus, again you stare through him, unable to conjour up a legible answer. This is an age of no news. Of no opinions. Of mediocre football devoid of scandal.It’s quite nice, enjoy it while you can, and thanks for buying the fanzine. S + S (Co-editors)

What’s Hot!

What’s Not!

Who’s that man from Argentina has been on fire this season. Leonardo Ulloa has been doing nice headers and tap in’s, notching 4 goals in 5 games. He was so good, he almost made the short list for player of the month behind Fat Andy Reid, James Vaughan and Clint Hill. Overlooked.

The Football League Report showed that we spent £ 869,988 on agent fees. Surely the club could have spent that on better things such as a new centre forward or 9 pies for each season ticket holder. Wonga.

Our defence has gone from conceding 7 in 3 games to conceding 1 in 3 games. The introduction of an actual left back at left back has worked wonders. Stephen Ward has made the defence tighter than Paul Barber’s purse strings. Mean. What a month it has been for the skipper. Ooh na na, Gordon Greer. Ooh na na, Gordon Greer was called up for the Scotland squad and earned himself a new contract. His full head of hair magically reappeared too. Growth. It’s always nice to see a youth teamer blood into the first team. The emergence of Rohan The Barbarian has been liberating. Flying into tackles, galloping forward, trying audacious 35 yard efforts and sans court case. Ince. On his latest international call up, Adam El Abd went into the Egyptian shop and asked to buy a glyphic. That shop keeper apologised and said he could only hire a glyphic. Taxi.

@BrettMendoza

The soap opera that is Brighton & Hove Albion continues. This time fat bastard, Colin Kazim-Richards is involved in a homophobia storm with the club. Brighton fans have accused him of homophobic gestures. The people defending him in court? Brighton players. Awkward. One of the most exciting parts of the season is Transfer Deadline Day. But for us, absolutely nothing happened. Nothing! It was more boring than Celebrity Big Brother. Yawn. That mental image you got in your head after Craig Mackail-Smith revealed that Barry Fry delivered his baby daughter. Fatherhood. For the first time at The Amex, we hosted our first “Category A” match. Who were the opponents we held with such high esteem? Man U? No. Chelsea? No. It was Millwall. £43 for a match ticket to sit behind Steve Lomas and Mick Harford’s dug out, we really spoil our fans. Kerching.

August 2013

tslr calendar

17 August Oh the japes associated on the professional footballer banter bus. Over the summer, we had a little giggle over Liverpool’s memo asking staff to avoid saying things to the media that could be construed as offensive. I’ve an idea, how about you stop players pissing about on social media altogether - they’ve enough on their plate with playing FIFA and Nandos, surely? Kemy Agustien’s ‘selfies’ on Instagram are enough to earn a complete ban. Whilst the update to Kazenga LuaLua’s Twitter account claiming a move to Smelhurst being on the cards was deeply offensive. It’s rumoured to have been a bet that KLL took from Lewis ‘£5m’ Dunk. Follow @tslr on Twitter or ‘like’ us on Facebook, yeah? 23 August On one level, it’s great to see the Albion joining a Football Association initiative by promoting healthy eating in schools. Gully was there, pretending that his diet generally consists of something other than bin bags and their unwanted contents. Someone forgot to tell Sodexo though: this initiative comes at the same time they officially launched chips at the stadium. Doughnuts would be a welcome addition to the north concourse. 26 August So news filtered through that Brighton and Hove Buses have painted one of their buses blue and white in support of the Albion. This comes after a summer in which the club dropped them as transport partners which they then leaked to

the press (well The Argus) before Albion had a chance to officially launch their changes to bus services to and from Falmer this season. The more cynical amongst us think Brighton and Hove Buses are just making reference to their finest moment - when they bought out the only other (blue) bus company to serve the city in a move that effectively monopolised bus services in Brighton. 28 August With all this talk of Ashley Barnes heading north to Burnley, it came as no real surprise when TSLR was told that it was all on the whim of David Burke. The only Albion player we’ve ever heard of who tripped up a referee appeared to be the last to know - it’s a shame players can’t find out these things on Ceefax these days. 1 September There’s been a fair number of perplexed faces wandering round TSLR Towers over the past month or so. Falmer turned out to be so popular in season one that the club threw in a load of new seats (and that despite there being an empty section of the WSL EVERY GAME). It worked jolly well for the play-off match with the scum from up the A23 when we finally saw a full house, and it will work again in a couple of seasons when we blag a cup draw against a top flight team. However, against the Burnleys of this division at the start of any season, there is a similar appetite for a full house as there is in ordering a Sodexo ‘gourmet’ meal in hospitality. The club played their part, too, in ensuring that some empty seat ticket

prices were raised for the visit of Millwall - a fool proof plan that the club seems to think will raise the attendance. Gold stars all round. 2 September The transfer window closed and without much Albion activity we bring amusing news from south London. They almost sealed a return loan deal of their archangel Andy Johnson but QPR wouldn’t allow it, probably so he can bang in a hat-trick against us in September (he may have already done so by the time you’re reading this). But they did make a few signings, meaning Stephen ‘donkey’ Dobbie hasn’t made their final squad for the season. When reading this in the Mirror, it claimed that P****e paid us £850k for him in the summer. We’d have taken £8.50 for him to join the workforce on the Pleasure Beach from whence he came. As the dust settled it soon transpired that the plucky Croydon team had actually made bids for 4 Albion players. Another instance of expert trolling from our friends on the road, they bid 30 quid or something for Bridcutt, Ulloa and apparently Barnes in a bid to cement their Premier League status. The other player? We’re still in the dark. 4 September Derbyshire and Sussex Police forces joined forces to ban a bright pair of Derby County fans from all football for 3 years as punishment for homophobic abuse gobbed out at The Amex. We’re pleased with this, though a few of the bits we’ve read have made

these poor Rams out as victims of gross injustice. The general mitigation is of course ‘banter’, and we’d love to hear these lads banter at Bradford City or Tottenham Hotspurs too! Good riddance. 4 September Vicente can’t find another club with those knees of his so Vicente’s agent gave Naylor a call and begged The Argus to run a story that said Vicente wanted to come back. Take him back, take him back.

behind his driving the wrong way in his Smart Car down the A23 back in March. Bad weather caused gridlock so Louis simply turned around and drove south on the northbound carriageway. Lawyers for Kane claimed he had just seen a road sign for Croydon and fled in panic. What with the Coca-Cola kid due in court over homophobic gesturing at the Amex, let’s hope that this season will see only ex-Albion players in trouble with the law. 7 September Like giving a lonely dog a biscuit, Albion spoon feed Andy Naylor a swift there’s “been no contact whatsoever either way”, thus top and tailing a golden 48 hour Argus non-story. 8 September With the Football League turning 150 years old, we thought it a nice moment to remind you all that Albion are reigning champions. Of the now nonexistent Division 3 South obviously. Championees, championees, ole, ole, ole. TSLR

6 September The week has been dominated by news of a new Albion striker coming in on loan. Who could it be? Bobby Z? Becchio? Phil Stant? TSLR Towers has been hoping all week that it turns out to be Fran Sandaza. 7 September It appears that Albion players past and present will continue their good form in front of court judges this season. Former youf teamer, Kane Louis, exemplified the stupidity of footballers with the reasons

â&#x20AC;&#x153;To progress amid the threat of Financial Fair Play you can no longer look to a knight in shining armour. Returning local boys done good are no longer allowed. The small are told just one thing: to know their place â&#x20AC;? .

Page 24

Deadline Denouement Millwall (again) and transfer deadline day? Definitely time to leave the country @slightlysubdad / brightononlyathome.wordpress.com

here is a football event that annoys me so much that this year I took desperate measures and went overseas to avoid it. No not Millwall at home, though as a bonus I missed that as well and therefore don’t have to scrub that horrible “Milllllllllllllll” noise out of my head. is it me or does it sound like a bear in a cheap tracksuit having an epileptic fit? It isn’t seeing if Alan Shearer can get to 50 televised “to be honests” before the end of August either. They’ve upped my dose since the last time I played that game. No – I went overseas to avoid the last part of the transfer window. Well that and chuck my kids in a freezing swimming pool and eat paprika for every meal and drink my own body weight in San Miguel and marvel at how the translation of Costa Blanca has changed from “White Coast” to “place of thunderstorms”.

Actually the thunderstorms were great. They knocked out everyone’s Sky removing the last possible chance of me accidentally catching some bint on SSN telling the world that Gary Brady had signed for Lincoln for £3.50 and a packet of Midget Gems. “STAY TUNED FOR MORE MASSIVE NEWS......” And that’s the problem. The transfer window has been imposed and now the media love to hype it impossibly, Sky in particular. Let’s face it, late August would be pretty dull otherwise. It’s the silly season. The cricket season has changed from international tension back to somnambulant old geezers in Scarborough and Blackpool. The football season’s barely started. It’s doubtful anyone’s yet lamped a ref (or their model girlfriend at 2am in Nando’s Late) never mind been found dead in a pile of WKD. Something needs to happen interest wise. So every rumour is hyped. NSC becomes unbear-

able as every other post starts “BUT WHY HAVEN’T WE SIGNED A STRIKER YET?” and suddenly everyone’s an expert on obscure players. On deadline day itself twitter goes nuclear. Everyone still does those ‘just seen Messi at Derby Bus Station” gags. Then the horrid denouement arrives; Jim White talking excitedly over pictures of kids whose life highlight is appearing on telly cavorting round Spurs’ training ground in hooded leisure wear. Good job Millwall aren’t in the Premier League or all you’d hear would be “Milllllllllllllll”. I landed to find we’d sold no one and bought no one. Even better, Palace had been joyfully rebuffed. And perhaps that’s why I avoided it all along after all. Ulloa and Bridcutt playing for THEM? Now that really would be a nightmare.TSLR

HELLO SEAGULL MY OLD FRIEND

here I was after the Derby game, straight out of the ground, quietly disconsolate, burbling dark tappings furiously into my phone and plotting the ensuing disaster of the season ahead. It’s funny how a couple of opening defeats can ignite the flames of panic inside the over-anxious minds of simpletons all-too-familiar with relegation seasons. Now I just feel like a fool with the triggerhappy emotions of a fairweather exotic billionaire. Gazing down on the bench to see Jonesy and Oscar sometimes doesn’t help. Their eagerness to succeed cannot replace their utter lack of experience in the echelons within which they are now competing - you imagine sly old foxes like Redknapp and Davies might view them as unwary prey in their first season. Our

men, conversely, might possess the fresh thinking which often allows young managers to outwit old dinosaurs. All I really have to go on is the Millwall draw, a match we should have won against a relegation side. The relief of not losing and the spirit shown to do so made for a feelgood factor in the end. In the half-full half-empty stakes the glass could be Ulloa, without whom all our crosses would be about as useful as a catflap in a submarine. Cliché says every glorious team requires a potent talisman, which he certainly is. Pessimistically, without his serrating ability we might well be trapdoor teeterers. Howls of longing for Lua-Lua were my entertainment in the stands and concourse from the final whistle onwards, but successive management teams must

know something we don’t for him not to start more regularly in spite of being one of the quickest footballers alive and a proper menace to defences given the chance. Transfer deadline day once again proved about as interesting for Albion fans as a Dido version of Coldplay’s ninniest refrains on Friday night Channel 5 karaoke. Rumours abounded – perhaps fuelled by the uncharacteristic lack of quotes from Ian Holloway et al – that the supposed “derisory” (a marvellous word) bids for Bridcutt and Ulloa were set-up distractions from our own lack of action. I’m glad Barnes didn’t go – letting a half-proven 23-year-old who cost sod-all go to Burnley for half a million would be folly, really. Occasional incendiary temperament notwithstanding, we’d

probably all be cartwheeling along Village Way if a player from our youth set-up was guaranteeing ten goals a season in the Championship, not to mention his defensive play all over the pitch when he’s not prematurely dispatched to the dressing room in a bristling rage. Up in the stands, the kiosks were worse than ever for Millwall. Seeing almost an entire queue give up was as noteworthy as anything in a dire first half, and would have been even better had it turned into some kind of porky revolt. Home wins and post-match fizzy dregs will have to provide our intermittent sustenance at Falmer for another year, with TSLR as mental stimulation, this witless nonsense aside. TSLR

Midfield Diamond Getting ‘into’ The Amex has been somewhat of a struggle this season. With empty seats and lacklustre atmosphere, are the winter elements what’s needed to perk things up?

t’s been over a month since the big kick-off away at (despite Brian McDermott’s stated wishes) still dirty, still cheating, still hated Leeds. Since then, we’ve had a further four League games and the customary early exit from the COC(k)up at the hands of lower League opposition. There is no doubt that the football season is well under way. But are you back into it yet? I’m not. That’s not to say that my entire family, social and working life no longer revolves around the Albion of course. Just as it should be, almost every weekend between now and next May will involve going to football, and most midweek games that I can get to are committed to memory. When a work colleague last month proposed a meeting in Edinburgh on the 18th September, no-one was surprised when I immediately said, “I can’t go, it’s QPR away.” The malaise is nothing to do with the end of last season and the turmoil that followed. Shit happens. Perhaps that’s a poor choice of phrase. But in the grand scheme of things, this summer’s events were like treading on a rabbit dropping compared to being up to our necks in shit as we were during the 90s. That’s all in the past, Oscar is our new tightlipped supremo and I look forward to seeing the team develop during the season. Expectations may not be quite as great as at the same time last year but that’s not such a bad thing. It’s not that the excitement of the new season was just building nicely, only for the international break to interrupt and send it crashing back down again. The players that didn’t jet off to represent their countries on the

international stage, ie almost all of them, have now had a chance to work on Oscar’s undoubted change of emphasis on the style of play. We’ve already shown in short periods that we can dominate teams but it’s definitely work in progress. The international break may have come at just the right time. No, the reason that I just can’t get into the football season yet is the weather. It’s been too hot and sunny. Football is a winter game and needs to be played in winter weather, despite FIFA’s idiotic decision that Qatar is a suitable venue for a World Cup. Falmer’s been so quiet at times, it’s like the fans are watching cricket, dozing away peacefully in the sunshine instead of jumping up and down to keep warm. On the pitch, it’s almost as bad. If a player needs treatment, there is an impromptu drinks break – I can almost hear David Gower and Nasser Hussain discussing the relative merits of Perrier and San Pellegrino. It’s not right. I really hope that by the time you read this, it’s getting colder, it’s pissing down and everyone’s moaning about the miserable weather. Then we can all get into the football again. TSLR

t the time of writing it’s 8.30am and I have a poison headache from the indulgences of the previous evening. The editor has insisted my copy is in on time and as a result the sensual, lithe young creature who stayed over last night has taken umbrage and departed. (In your dreams – Ed.) As a consequence I am left feeling more significantly bitter and twisted than usual. I guess it had to happen – the Albion grading games according to the glamour of the opponents. Burnley were never likely to draw the biggest crowd of the season and kicking the opposition up in the air / interrupting the flow of the game does not make for an attractive footballing spectacle. I am obviously pleased to pick up a kid’s ticket for a fiver however, thank you Mr Barber. Under the guise of financial fair play the club has to save the merest five million quid this season so it’s goodbye to your discounted pre-match pint (unless you arrive before the sun is over the yard arm) along with free match special buses and hello to the 15p chip. I counted 19 in my polystyrene punnet on the last occasion and I’m old enough to remember an entire portion in yesterday’s Daily Mirror for 6d – that’s 2½ p to children of the post decimalisation age. Those of you who observed NonLeague Day during the international break will have picked up a flavour of where my discourse is heading. Once football up and down the land was accessible simply by means of a heavy

silver coin slapped on the turnstile on a matchday. Catering was supplied by burger vans parked randomly around the ground without the onerous necessity of applying for a pitch. Merchandising was provided by various local traders plying rosettes and scarves. Just for once I am feeling genuine compassion for those poor bastards who make it their lot in life to pitch up at S**thurst Park every other Saturday. How will they and their visitors cope with forking out a fortune to watch the supposed elite of the footballing world from such squalid and dilapidated surroundings? If West Ham are charging £72 for the visit of Manchester City how much are the Palarse going to want to allow their faithful, if uncouth, supporters a possible glimpse of golden bollocks Zaha warming the away bench? The cheapest seat in a stand at the Falmex this season will set you back £25 and the most expensive a budget busting £42 or almost 50p per minute. The forgettably tedious Millwall first half was at least mitigated by the beautiful comfortable seat, something that can never be said about the park benches masquerading as seating in South London’s latest Premier League venue. TSLR

Moneyball For the more vintage of Albion fans, the monetisation of football at Albion is obsurd through comaprison. @Bitter_nTwisted

TAYLOR REPORT Not unsung, but rarely spoken of, Peter Taylor followed a mediasavvy loudmouth into the hotseat at Brighton and Hove Albion. Sound familiar?

here’s a rare colour photo of fans queuing up outside a sunny Goldstone before the first match of the 1974/5 season; all flared jeans, tank tops and collar length hair. Large billboards advertising Guinness, Esso, and Hamlet cigars overlook about a hundred boys and blokes slouching about. A mustard coloured Ford Cortina drives past. Despite that days’ opponents not having played the Albion for over a decade, the atmosphere as recalled by veteran posters on North Stand Chat was “nothing special”, and one supporter remembers not much more about the afternoon than the August pitch being “in need of a trim”. Brighton’s new manager in that day’s programme, “Albion Review” (10p), was even more circumspect, describing the club’s upheaval in the summer and the departure of most of the previous season’s first team squad in a mere two sentences; “Since the last League match there have been a lot of changes at the Goldstone, my longtime friend and

partner Brian Clough left to take over at Leeds. “ But, he concluded prematurely as it turned out, “all that is old news and all in the past”. For 46 year old ex goalkeeper, Peter Taylor, who had played with Clough at Middlesborough and then spent over a decade as his No.2 in a successful management spells at Hartlepool and Derby and a torrid last year on the South Coast then it was a shock to most, including Clough and a certain Leeds chairman, that he’d stayed in his post. He’d been offered twice his yearly salary, around £20k, to continue the partnership at Elland Road, but turned it down partly out of loyalty to wealthy chairman Mike Bamber and a reluctance to move his family yet again. It was Clough, alone, who was to endure the 44 days. Taylor’s attempt to break out on his own, would of course be relatively short lived. He subsequently considered his two seasons solely in charge at Brighton “a failure”, and felt he’d let Bamber down. Most observers agree that when Clough invited Peter to his Major-

can villa in the summer of 1976 with the aim of what was to be a reconciliation, he’d made his best signing for Nottingham Forest. A promotion and then a blur of unlikely League Championships and European cups were only a few years away. “We both knew we were banging our heads against a brick wall on our own”, Taylor had concluded. “Together we could do any job. There was no point delaying”. Yet on that August day he was all smiles, his new signing; 6ft plus striker Ian Mellor from Norwich, playing in a unfamiliar all white strip, scored the only goal of the match in the 69th minute. It was Malcolm Allison’s Crystal Palace, who to Albion fans were just another London club in 1974 remember, and with another Peter Taylor on the wing in their 11, who went down to a 1-0 defeat in front of a bumper 26 thousand crowd. Despite the optimism and again despite Taylor’s glorious hubris further down his programme notes “When - and i say when, and not if - we win the Third Division title, we will have got there by playing skillful football. Anyone can annihilate the opposition by brute strength and dirty play,

we will annihilate them with pure football.” the reality was only one further win in their first 16 matches. Just as in Taylor’s second season at the club, this time by himself, Brighton again struggled to a disappointing 19th in Division 3. Pure football it wasn’t. Only a home record of two defeats at the Goldstone had prevented relegation. It was, however Taylor’s reputation as a scout that ultimately secures his reputation. His links with Burton Albion and an offer of £50 a week secured the 19 year Peter Ward a contract at the beginning of 75/76 and he quickly made Brian Horton club captain following his signing from Port Vale later in the season. Most would agree two of the top three Albion signings of all time. But despite 26 goals from Fred Binney, who Taylor dropped in favour of Ward towards the end of 75/75, Albion trailed in their last few games to only finish fourth. It was the end for Taylor. Like that old joke about Ringo not being the best drummer in The Beatles, it’s too harsh on him to suggest that, perhaps, he wasn’t even the best Peter Taylor to manage

“His links with Burton Albion and an offer of £50 a week secured the 19 year old Peter Ward a contract at the beginning of 75/76 and he quickly made Brian Horton club captain following his signing from Port Vale later in the season. Most would agree two of the top three Albion signings of all time.”

Brighton. The aforementioned Palace winger; Peter J Taylor, in his brief League 2 championship winning stint, wasn’t here long enough to perhaps decide either way. Unlike the undeniable loyalty of Peter W, however, our ex-Palace friend couldn’t wait to say his farewells. The alternative narrative, though, amongst some Brighton fans of a certain age that it was his signings and team that formed the basis of Alan Mullery’s imperial phase is too generous however and ignores the facts. Mullery admitted he’d inherited a “great squad” and accepts that was part of the motivation for taking the job on as an inexperienced 34 year old, but in reality it was only Ward and Horton who remained in the team on that legendary day at St James Park in May 1979. 40 years on from Taylor’s arrival, it now looks like a classic period of consolidation. An interim summer appointment after the shock exit of a media friendly TV pundit. A new low key coach who, critics say, struggles to inspire his team. A poor start to his first season. “He would always be behind his desk, he would try to motivate us but he just couldn’t

do it.” one of his signings concluded. The Taylor experiment ultimately failed and he went back home. To glory. Brighton’s ambitious rich young chairman had to look elsewhere, in the end, proving wrong his manager’s belief that the club had, in fact, hit the ceiling. The welcome signing of Alan Mullery to be the club’s new ambassador and the proud succession of the Bloom family over the last half century illustrate that those that populate the Amex’ boardrooms today are thankfully keen students of the club’s history. The historical parallels are a lot messier, in truth, than I’m perhaps hinting at, but I’d say Peter Taylor’s, now mostly forgotten, three seasons at Brighton and Hove Albion are finally in the postPoyet era worth some urgent reassessment. With thanks to @goldstonewrap

@JemStone

Nobody likes the league cup. It’s just a higher level version of the St. Johnstone’s paint pot trophy or whatever it was called. (Note to companies sponsoring these things: nobody remembers what the fuck they are called. Your sponsorship is pointless. Save money and pay your staff more or something). Still I’ve never seen us play Newport, it was cheapish and It was a good chance to catch up with people I hadn’t seen since the horror of the play off debacle. So I, along with not many others, turned up at Falmer to watch a tedious extra time defeat to a reasonably good lower league side who wanted it so much more than the Albion. Calde’s red card effectively defined the match. Before we were very comfortable. Afterwards they were always going to win. Whatever. It was hard to care that much. These matches always seem more like friendlies than proper football. Best bit was being allowed out for a fag on 90 minutes. Worst bit was falling backwards off my seat and smacking my head on the concrete. It fucking hurt, kids. Be careful when bored and mucking about at the Amex. (Phen)

What is it with games against Burnley at Falmer? Refereeing controversy seems to be guaranteed. The decision to not send off Clarets ‘keeeper Tom Heaton was amongst the most bizarre I have ever seen. I’m sure by now we have all had our arguments about covering defenders, last men and direction of play but for me; the whole ‘heading away from goal’ guideline has been misconstrued. Most football fans fed on a diet of Shearer, Townsend, Lawrenson et al, have been led away from the point themselves. Surely heading away from goal is travelling towards your own goal, Buckley was undoubtedly getting closer to the goal when he was brought down. Straight Red, no question. Also, referee Sheldrake, if you make a complete hash of one decision, it is not really okay for you to correct your error by making another error. Other than refereeing problems I think we started to see a bit more of how Oscar’s Albion are going to play. Certainly we are not the finished article yet, but we seem to moving in the right direction. I am a fan of pushing much further up the pitch and trying to get the ball back quicker, though not entirely convinced, as yet, that our players are good enough to play the high tempo passing game Oscar wants from us. Oh, we won 2-0 by the way. (Bird)

The new £189m Library of Birmingham opened this week and it seems the St. Andrews crowd have been getting some practice in on how to conduct themselves when they visit. I was hoping the home crowd would be livelier, mainly to give a bit more of an edge to my personal ‘derby’ of the Albion versus the team closest to my adopted Brum home. This wasn’t the case, but the urgency was there for Brighton due to the fact that it had been 25 years since we lost the first three league games of a season and 24 since we last had a result at St. Andrews. Despite the win and Oscar’s Micky Adams-esque pumping celebration at full-time, my abiding memory of the game will be the innocuous tackle in the stand beside us, which saw a couple of Albion fans tumble over a few rows of seats. Suddenly, a lad’s head was bleeding profusely - or ‘pissing blood’ as was the diagnosis from one raspberry snuff fuelled chap nearby. The Brummie stewards and St. John’s moved to the scene about as quickly as Joe Gatting, but an NSK scarf did a good dressing job in the interim. This was all a bloody distraction from the first-half action on the pitch, which was largely uneventful. However, Albion controlled the half and Keith Andrews and Stephen Ward both impressed, slotting into our passing game seamlessly. Every Ulloa touch of the ball was beautiful. City rallied after the break and rattled the bar twice, but we got back on top well and Croft’s finish was a result of excellent team build-up. Overall, City will feel unlucky having come close to going ahead twice, but I felt they were pretty lacklustre on this showing. A good win to change the record books, but not one to lose heads over. (Carter)

August Reviews

“Transfer deadline day once again proved about as interesting for Albion fans as a Dido version of Coldplay’s ninniest refrains on Friday night Channel 5 karaoke.” Page 14

KNOW YOUR PLACE There’s no getting away from it, and soon enough there’ll be no glossing over it. Times are changing and you should consider whether to keep the quid you bought this fanzine with and put it in savings. A one way ticket to the Promised Land of the Premier League and the grotesque swimming pool of riches such progression spews forth from the bowls of Rupert Murdoch’s money-making, soul of football stripping, pile of subscription generated cash does not grow on trees. Or at least not on any trees found in this neck of the woods. The chance, supporters are finding out, would be a fine thing. No. A seat at the top table of this country’s national game comes with an ever-increasing ticket price. Like a Hollywood Set fundraiser boasting guaranteed smugness and tabloid redemption with every $500 plate, promotion and subsequent football salvation is available to those who pay. And pay big. At a time when the new figurehead of the FA is intent only on repeating ad nauseam lessons us mere consumers learned back in the infancy of

our supporting lives, and turning to the establishment for answers on how to rectify the world those same ghastly galacticos of governing bodies left, right and centre support like a pimp feeding a whore’s crack habit, football is broken. Say it again with conviction. Football. Is. Broken. The England team is not the priority. Players who draw the curtains of their coach closed as it pulls into Wembley to block out the waves of young fans who just want to catch a glimpse of their heroes are not worth worrying about. The hope they serve up every two years cannot raise the mood of a town caught in the downward spiral of economic depression and joblessness. There is no empathy between the downtrodden masses and these overpaid athletes living in gated communities a million miles away from the fans who put them on their lofty pedestal. No. It is the clubs who need attention. Clubs who are being forced to play in another town because it is cheaper than their purpose built sporting cathedral – no matter how far the worshippers have to travel. Clubs who are used as pawns by power hungry megalomaniacs intent on nothing more than massaging egos and blossoming bank balances. Clubs who have their histories ripped asunder over debts equivalent to the bar bill of a Premier League Christmas party. Even those outfits like ours who have thankfully been saved from the slow death of crippling finances and dwindling crowds are not spared fully. To progress amid the threat of Financial Fair Play - which looms large on the horizon like a gargantuan giant of yesteryear, ready to enslave football clubs with their own populations and fanbase limitations – you can no longer look to a knight in shining armour. Returning local boys done good are no longer allowed. The small are told just one thing: to know their place. So what choice remains for those upstarts who want to progress beyond their means? Simple. Pass the cost on to the fans. Hand them an invoice alongside their tickets. Tax the emotional attachment they feel but which cannot be simply severed and reattached to cheaper option. Ask them to spend more cash. Guilt-trip them into going without. See for yourselves at a match day near you. Programme notes outlining business ambitions and the need for maximising revenues. Translation: you want us to succeed? We need your cash. All of it. Lots of it. Any of it. Feed the machine and, if you are lucky, it might calculate how to ascend to the top flight. You won’t be able to afford to watch by then but no matter. Did Orwell’s Animal Farm teach you nothing beyond the communist tendencies of pigs? We are all Boxer the horse toiling in our footballing field. Embrace it. Work to save your club. Fill its coffers with your hard earned. Make it a product which attracts others. You might not be able to enjoy it but slink off to your local non league club safe in the knowledge you did your bit in pushing your club just that little bit further away from your reach. All of football is equal. Only some are more equal than others. TSLR

The Minor

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Saturday 7th September saw the annual NonLeague Day come around for 2013. Lewes hosted the Met Police and a bumper crowd, swelled by Albion nomads, supped Harveys at the Pan on a perfect Autumn day. This is no Amex.

MY WEDDING NIGHT WITH KURT NOGAN

urt Nogan appears from nowhere, at the end of the bar in a pub in Preston. The only thing that was missing was a puff of smoke, he just popped up, like he used to do in opponents’ penalty boxes. Not looking a day older than when he left the Goldstone, he shakes my hand and in a gruff Welsh accent says “Alright my son”. We’d been summoned to the North West for a wedding of mutual friend Lee Ashcroft (former striker at Preston, West Brom and Wigan) Nogan, who’d formed a lethal partnership at Preston with the groom to be, cracks a telling grin. It didn’t confess to anything specific but tells a few stories from the 1990’s. Having been an icon at the Albion during my adolescent years, I was a bit nervous about meeting ‘Nogsy’; I didn’t want to be asking a million questions and appear in awe. Of course, I needn’t have worried, it was like speaking to a colleague on your lunch break. Nogan’s been out of the professional game for a good decade now. He left the Albion 18 years ago. His marriage ended when his football career did. His kids are all but grown up. He seems happy enough with life though, he helps run a company called Power Shot, teaching kids in South Wales just how to stick it in the onion bag. The evening progressed heavily in another pub without too much attention from locals wanting to say hello to the former strike partnership. There’s stories flying around all over the place, both Nogan and Ashcroft had eventful careers on and off the pitch. Ashcroft still does as manager of Northwich Victoria but Kurt has opted for a quiet life now. It’s the morning of the wedding and the former Albion icon is up first to make ‘a proper Welsh brekkie my son’. Half an

hour and a kitchen full of smoke later, Nogan serves up five ‘afterbirths’ for the groom party. Not that the dog was complaining. Pre-match/wedding pint and I had a good natter with Kurt about the Albion. He departed shortly before the Goldstone was sold and all hell broke loose. He speaks very fondly of his time in Sussex, explaining how wages weren’t getting paid on time. He refers to the comradeship within the team back then, how they wanted to win even more and how they’d go out together after a victory. The wedding itself surprisingly passed off without much incident. Still a bit of a charmer, he was the last to leave the dance floor and the last to leave the function. Having experienced lengthy spells at Burnley and Preston after he left us, he spoke with genuine affection about the Albion, the area and the supporters although he’s yet to go back. Having sat on a table full of ‘singletons’ at the wedding, Kurt was great fun, nobody telling him to keep the noise down or to behave himself. He’s one of football’s nice guys and it was a real pleasure to meet him. As a chef he’d make a good postman; but he wasn’t a bad footballer. TSLR

Uncle C

Carter on ... Betting As vices at the football go, betting is quite an appropriate bedfellow with drinking and swearing at The Amex. @CarterBrighton

s revealed on NSC, there seems to be some sausage smuggling going on at the Amex. A few frankfurters concealed in a Thermos flask, some hotdog buns in your jacket pocket and you’ve saved yourself the disappointing and costly experience of stadium catering. I admire the thriftiness of this approach, but I’m also quite reckless financially, so a pie and a pint will usually beat the idea of a packed lunch. I bet these frugal Falmerites would be just the sort to disapprove of gambling in the concourses. On original internal plans for the Amex, numerous betting booths were shown; either the club couldn’t do a deal with a bookie or it decided against them in an effort to appear more family friendly. I doubt it’s the latter. There’s probably a wide spectrum of gamblers at the Albion, those who have made millions from Poker tournaments (can’t think of any one in particular right now) and those who simply need to be in a crowd to make themselves inconspicuous to Tommy the Spoon. Luckily, when I have a flutter, I can do so with only a few quid for fun. The total amount of time I’ve spent in Ladbrokes or William Hill is about the same as a Colin Hawkins’ cameo against Stockport in 2006. Stadium betting outlets aren’t designed for serious punters wanting the best prices, just those looking to put far-fetched accumulators on for a quid to make the Morecambe v Torquay game interesting. I’m not really advocating betting, I just think someone missed a bit of a trick at the Amex; but then I also think making Stephen Ward head up the

Young Seagulls and turning him into a cartoon called ‘Children’s Ward’ represents a good idea. The mystery of betting at Falmer came to mind for several reasons, no less the fact that the League is now sponsored by Skybet. They’re even worse than the Albion for spam; my inbox is busier than the season ticket refund queue at Selhurst. I also noted with interest the busy little booth in the away end at St. Andrews, which was doing a roaring trade from snuffed-up Albion fans. Gambling also cropped up when shamelessly doing my periodic Scott McGleish research - a process that was hampered by poor quality Seagulls merchandise. The non-slip backing is starting to come away from the front plastic part of my Albion mouse mat. The adhesive, which is supposed to bond the two parts, likes to get all over my palms. This is always brilliant when I shake hands with people who come over to my desk and end up slightly glued together with me by, what is for them, an unknown sticky substance. As it goes, Scott McGleish, along with fellow members on the ‘Management Committee’ recently decided that PFA Chief Exec, Gordon Taylor, could keep his job following newspaper revelations that he had run up considerable gambling debts. Could you imagine a worse decision than having Scott McGleish on a committee? TSLR

“Mullery admitted he’d inherited a “great squad” and accepts that was part of the motivation for taking the job on, but in reality it was only Ward and Horton who remained in the team on that legendary day at St James Park in May 1979. Page 16

WE REGRET TO ANNOUNCE THAT DURING TODAY’S MATCH, TWO MEN WILL DIE OF PROSTATE CANCER. We’re sorry to cast a shadow over today’s proceedings, but prostate cancer kills one man every hour in the UK. That’s a strike rate of 10,000 men a year. And survival isn’t always good news. How would you cope with infertility, erectile problems or incontinence? We urgently need funds to improve diagnosis and help us find better treatment. Make a £3 donation on your mobile right now, it’s as easy as sending the text you see below. With your help, we hope one day to make a more welcome announcement. The death of prostate cancer itself.

MEN DESERVE BETTER. TEXT PROSTATE9 TO 70004 TO MAKE A £3 DONATION or visit prostatecanceruk.org/football Text costs £3 plus network charge. Prostate Cancer UK receives 100% of your donation. Obtain bill payer’s permission. Customer care 0844 847 9800. Prostate Cancer UK is a registered charity in England and Wales (1005541) and in Scotland (SC039332). Registered company 2653887.