Wednesday 22 October 2014

Bristol Rovers vs Forest Green Rovers

Bristol Rovers 0 - 1 Forest Green Rovers  (18.10.2014)

My, my, my, the West Terrace were not happy with this result. Two different referees came and went, departing with bellowed boos ringing in their ears. A ceaseless sequence of soft fouls, compounded by the dubious sending-off of the home team's right back, propelled the crowd into an attitude of stern recalcitrance. The world is against Bristol Rovers, or is it rather that, on this particular day, a rough and tumble derby was squeezed out of their nervous grasp.

How could I resist the autumnal bite of this hot-headed encounter? Gamesmanship, the bane of all downtrodden football supporters, was in full flow to the extent that my jaw locked into a type of gurn which similarly afflicts thousands of lower league devotees every weekend. Yet my own mildly feigned indignance was no match for the old man standing next to me. With each tweet of the referee's whistle, this moody codger swayed his head back and forth with the fury of a Hong Kong action flick. As the match stumbled to an irritating climax, I was seriously wary of the danger from a geriatric headbutt.

Bristolians react in strange ways to football, most of which are hilarious. One excited chap, for instance, moaned with a bovine variation on the classic "ooh!" with every close call to the goal. To my own private delight, Matty Taylor's wayward shots were greeted with a shriek of "moowaah!" every single time, without fail. Someone should have called DEFRA because it sounded like Mad Cow Disease had broken out in BS7.

In all fairness, the fans have every right to feel a little aggrieved, especially when over 7000 attended this mercifully forgetful game. The Gas are at a historic low and yet they still cannot score goals. For all his flaws, at least Matty Taylor creates chances for himself and his teammates. His positioning is good, he has the skills to run at defenders and the raw pace to get behind his opposite number. But, crucially, his finishing is awful.

Adam Cunnington, meanwhile, only feels the urge to stroll into the box about twice every match. For the rest of the ninety minutes he seems to attempt a faultless impersonation of the never-lamented Kevin Kyle. A lamp-post could make a more significant contribution to a team on this form than the lanky striker.
David Batty gets stuck in to his prey.

But hey, what do I know about football, anyway? As a committed student of the 'David Batty School of Footballing Excellence' I have never, nor actually wanted, to hit the ball in the back of the net. A crunching slide tackle is far more satisfying.

Speaking of the ex-England midfield enforcer, he would have been proud of Daniel Leadbitter's uncompromising challenge in the second half. Leadbitter, a son of the greatest city on Earth, struck his opponent with a forceful impact for a 50-50 ball - although there was no question of malice on his part. Sadly, you can't play like Batty anymore (you probably couldn't when he was still playing, to be honest), and the already unpopular referee made himself the most disliked man in Horfield by dismissing the Pirates' defender.

At that point the visitors were already one goal ahead after sloppy defending from a corner. It is not the first time I have written that sentence this season and, I daresay, it won't be the last. Until the goalkeeper learns how to catch high balls it will prove to be a continually damaging weakness.


The next match at the Memorial is not until November 15th so I will have to write about something else for a while. Maybe I might start that epic socialist novel I have been planning. Or not... Who knows? At least we get a three week holiday from the drudgery of more Conference action.

Friday 10 October 2014

Bristol Rovers Vs Dartford

Bristol Rovers 1 - 0 Dartford   (09.10.2014)

An ugly incident unravelled towards the end of this tawdry encounter when visiting 'keeper Jason Brown, gesturing towards the North Terrace mob, complained of racist abuse. Brown spent at least two minutes vociferously protesting to the referee, his teammates, and stewards about a particular section or individual of the near crowd that he believed was the guilty party. BRFC officials say they are currently investigating the incident

Jason Brown accepting his country's call.
but nobody has yet been identified and prosecuted.

Up to that point, the chants from the crowd had been relatively good-natured, with the targeted individual even joining in with the chorus of 'Aahs!' after a goal kick. Much merriment was made of his pink shirt, although, even at these early jovial stages, I could sense a tipping point was imminent.

If ever there was a time for an old pro to think "what is the point?", it surely came for Brown on Tuesday night. With three senior Welsh international caps and a five year stint at Blackburn Rovers to his name, the 32 year-old must have wondered which sins he had committed to be suffering the abuse of idiotic bigots on a cold October night. Two years ago he was playing against Mexico in the soccer hubbub of New Jersey. Now he represents Dartford in a league where they would be ecstatic just to avoid relegation. Every so often, sport throws up a sad story of disappointment and unfulfilled glory: a real life Bull Durham, if you will. Jason Brown will stick in my mind as one of those melancholic footnotes as shouts rang around the Memorial Stadium of "Who the f***'s the black man in the pink?"

Juvenile school yard humour seemingly held a renaissance amongst the Gas' terraces, especially in relation to the unfortunately named Tom Bender, who felt the mockery of a small section of home fans. The incessant yapping of men old enough to know better stirred my own ire against a support base which behaved impeccably the previous Saturday. I wonder, do these immature twits shout at their television set every time Lars Bender controls the ball in the Champions League or German internationals? Of course, it is difficult to effectively ridicule a phenomenally successful professional sportsman, like the man who was initially selected for Germany's World Cup winning squad. A scrawny left back with foppish hair, plying his trade in the non-league, is a much easier target to pick on. As another famous Bender would say to these guys, they can "bite my shiny metal ass".

Over on the pitch, Rovers struggled through an uncomfortable ninety minutes where a scrappy Matty Taylor penalty was enough to shade their dogged Kentish opponents (the Pirates' second from that county in four days). With 37 minutes on the clock, Brown got two palms onto the under-fire striker's placed spot kick, but could only push it into the side netting.

Throughout the game both teams played some atrocious football which lacked any quality or efficiency. Miraculously, however, this win sends the Blues up to 4th place in the table, having been unbeaten in eight games. After such an impressive run, why does the team play like they have the world on their shoulders?

Stewie Sinclair, or perhaps 'Chewie' would be more appropriate with so much facial hair, is an exciting presence in midfield. Aside from his full-throttle approach, Bristol simply do not have the commitment to play triumphant football. I supect the next away game at Aldershot will test their mettle and cause them to buckle. By 5pm on Saturday we will know for certain.

Monday 6 October 2014

Bristol Rover vs Dover Athletic

Bristol Rovers 1 - 1 Dover Athletic   4/10/2014

After two weeks of skating around Bristol's hip liberal sector, it was a nice surprise to finally meet the city's remaining white working class. For three hours on a Saturday, the cosmopolitan surroundings of Gloucester Road are swallowed by cider-swigging West Country folk. Suddenly the timid Gloucestershire twang becomes a full rumbling of potent accents from the deepest 'Mild West'. Here lies the proletariat underbelly, the blue collar pasty-munchers, the loyal few who keep football grounded north of the Avon.

As an outsider to these parts, my own alien ways can be lost in translation, as I found out all too easily from the locals. My friendly greeting of "alright guys" to the stewards was received with the same bewildered distaste as if I had said something disparaging about their mothers. Evidently, being a foreigner here takes a bit of getting used to. Perhaps I should have addressed them as "my lovely" instead, as is the case with the region's common tongue.

This was my first sighting of the Gas, my arrival inconveniently gatecrashing the club's lowest ebb, as they settle into the tough competition of the Conference. On a positive note, the tickets are cheap (£10 concession in the terrace) and this is perhaps one of the reasons Rovers' attendances have remained stable since their relegation. Over 6000 fans turned up on this sunny October afternoon to witness an entertaining draw between two fairly combative sides.

If the club have their way, this season could be the final bow for the Memorial Stadium. It has been the team's home since 1996 but plans are afoot to relocate the Pirates to an all-seater complex provisionally titled the UWE Stadium. Yikes - talk about negative association! And what is to become of the atmospheric, unique and well-portioned current ground? It will make way for a Sainsbury's superstore, say the planners.


The proposed UWE Stadium.
The loss of the Memorial Stadium will be a dagger through the heart of all neutral football enthusiasts like myself. There is no other place like it in the country, and if it is to be replaced by yet another out-of-town soulless monolith, the league/non-league pyramid will have lost another slice of its true character. Bristol's rugby team has already deserted the Horfield site in favour of settling with rivals Bristol City at Ashton Gate. The turncoat scoundrels! At least, however, it means the turf is rested between fixtures.

Nevertheless, this weekend the discussion inside the stands remained strictly related to on-pitch affairs. After only ninety minutes of frustrating fare for the home devotees, I am already up to speed with the current parlance among the faithful. 'Matty Taylor' and 'barn door' are frequently uttered in the same sentence, while 'play-offs' remain far more commonly breathed than 'promotion'. The team's recent form is inconsistent and lacks the outright superiority to see them reach the necessary heights for an immediate return to the Football League.

The unfortunate Taylor is a recent summer arrival from Forest Green Rovers but has only scored once in twelve appearances so far. Given a tantalising chance to put Rovers 2-0 up when through against the keeper, the young striker fluffed his lines and met the unforgiving condescension from the terraces. In all honesty, though, he was the worst offender of a side which looked bereft of confidence in both attack and defence. After one particularly horrendous backpass, the Bristol goalkeeper survived an early dismissal after bringing down the onrushing opponent through nothing more than an apparent mental lapse by the referee.

Dover stole an equaliser in added time from a set piece and heartbroken home fans left the ground grumbling under their breathe. When they find themselves in less charitable situations, the Conference new boys will find this league a tough challenge. From what I have seen, relegation could be a clear possibility.

I will be back to see more of Rovers' unfolding campaign soon. The real question is, after another two points dropped, whether the other 6000 fans will join me?