I was determined to write lots about the Bath mascot tonight; Bladud the pig. That plan was well and truly scuppered by an awful decision which simply has to take primary place in any comment on this match.

Bath and Dagenham are both on shocking runs in their respective leagues and Bath were inevitably desperate for the feel good factor of a cup run, as well as the cash it generates. Bath are still part-time in a league where that is increasingly difficult. They are the sort of side that relies on the Supporters Club to pay for away travel for the team …

In that context, the valiant effort that got them a draw away to Dagenham last week was commendable and despite the wretched run of results they went into this game with real belief.  Twerton Park was buzzing in a manner it can’t often have done since the former squatters from Bristol moved out and a grand total of 1704 people turned out amidst the ESPN TV trucks and a full camera crew.  There were actually QUEUES at the turnstiles!

The match got underway at predictably breakneck pace but was remarkably clean for all the sides’ respective bluster.  Barely a couple of free kicks in the first 20 minutes or so by my reckoning.  Things were pretty even, despite the division gap between the sides and chances hard to come by until a cross from the right was met with a towering header by Dagenham’s Bryan Woodall.

My impression at the time was that if the City defender had concentrated on attacking the ball rather trying to lever his opponent away from it, he’d have had more success.  It was the type of goal that Bath have conceded incessantly this season and one might have expected heads to drop as a result.  The opposite was true.  For a team so used to losing, Bath continue to show remarkable resilience and spirit and did so again, getting some real momentum during the second half.

Lewis Hogg’s stinging volley straight at the keeper would have gone in were it a yard either side and a little later, some dogged work saw the ball roll loose in a tight crowd of players.  Alan Connolly stretched to reach it and shoot, slipping on his backside as he did so but somehow got the momentum of his fall through the ball and kept it down at the same time.  Its difficult enough to hit the ball that hard when standing properly, but it whizzed spectacularly the 25 yards it needed to reach the net.  Game on.

I expected the momentum to stay with Bath after that goal, but it wasn’t to be.  The Daggers put a good deal of pressure on, with a succession of corners, though clear chances remained few and, as time went on, things began to even out again.  By the whistle, it was the Daggers who looked pleased to reach extra time.

Now … I appreciate that referees are human, that they do their best and that endlessly whining about them ought to be the preserve of blinkered supporters who phone certain radio stations.  But what came next ruined the night and was inexcusable in my book.  The sense of bemusement in the ground was palpable when Daggers’ striker Nurse made it 2-1 from a position which was not just slightly offside, but a full 15 yards, if not more.

Nurse had been ambling back from an offside position, as strikers often do.  Play had moved on, and reached the other end of the pitch where a punted clearance from the Daggers defence was made.  Bath defender Jim Rollo stuck out a foot to try and block it, maybe mid way inside his own half, he made slight contact but the ball continued on its path through to Nurse who had never gotten closer than about 15 yards back towards the Bath defensive line.  Everyone stopped.  Even Nurse, until he sheepishly gathered the ball and trotted off to round the keeper.

The goal stood, seemingly on the basis that the ball had last come off a Bath player.  The point, of course, is that Nurse was a mile offside when the clearance was made in his direction.  At that point he was offside.  At that point the whistle should have blown.  The fact that a defender’s boots brushed the ball on the way through cannot restrospectively render the offside offence invalid.

In the past ten years or so, the offside rule has been gerrymandered, refined and complicated to the point where even something as absurd as this goal can probably be supported by one interpretation or another.  That mere fact demonstrates that something is wrong.

Football is a simple, yet fluid organic and complex game, and the rules have to be simple and clear to make it work.  If a referee misses something, or doesn’t see the tackle the way we do, its frustrating.  We might even use naughty words about him.  But when the incident is clear for all to see and the interpretation bizarre, everyone goes home feeling a bit sick and wondering why they bother supporting the team, if said team can be shafted not by misfortune but by something that just makes no sense.

If the referee’s approach was correct, then teams ought to start playing goal hangers to wait on the penalty spot for clearances.  Defenders further up the pitch then have the option of competing for the ball, risking getting a touch and playing the goal hanger in, or not competing for it at all and giving the opposition a free header.  Midfielders could develop the art of driving the ball at defenders shins in the hope of getting a deflection to their striker waiting 20 yards ahead, unmarked.  The goal hangers could also come from offside positions and try to nick the ball off defenders from behind, or compete for headers with them having arrived from the “blind side”.

Anyway.  Rant over.

City pressed hard, the introduction of (soon to retire) Scott ‘Solarium’ Murray brought some class to the wing play, and barrel-chested talisman Lee Phillips brought some urgency and aggression to the attack, but all to no avail.  Many might wonder why the pair didn’t start, albeit Murray (who is almost exactly the same age as I am- pushing 38) might struggle to last 120 minutes, and certainly had an impact against tired legs.

Last year, Bath would have won this game despite the crazy refereeing.  I have little doubt that the impact of two departed players (speedy brick-outhouse Kaid Mohammed, and excellent full back Sido Jombati – who has just secured an extended deal at Cheltenham) would have swung it.  Fine margins, and for a struggling part time club, huge rewards now lost.

Back to Bladud the Pig… (the game was largely ended by offside incident, and the third Daggers goal in the second half of extra time was pretty irrelevant).  Bladud is, of course, a bloke in a cheap non-league pig outfit.  However, he’s absolutely top flight in terms of energy and bang for the buck.  Having demanded one of my chips as I entered the ground, he proceeded to entertain us all with his crazy antics.  He never actually stops.  The game goes on, and he continues doing press ups on the touchline, doing high fives with kids and adults alike, and generally being irritating.  On this occasion, we had the pleasure of seeing him deliberately run in front of the TV cameras and force himself upon the Daggers substitutes’ training drill at half time.

If Bath ever found themselves 3 divisions higher, he would doubtless be in trouble and banned from in-game nonsense altogether.  Often he annoys me by getting in the way whilst I’m trying to watch, but isn’t it great to be at a ground where he can do it without sponsors or the premier league dictating protocol?  One day, Man City will find a way of imposing compulsory purchase transfers on players and mascots alike, and the likes of Bladud will get swept up for a pittance before mouldering in the City reserves until all their youthful exuberance drains away.  Until then: Up the pig!

I went home to bed, frustrated and saddened.  And then had to stay up until gone midnight trying to convince my terrified 3 year old that there was not a giant blue hoover (akin to the one in Teletubbies) hiding in his bedroom waiting to suck him up.

Better than watching Chelsea on the telly though.

Blyth Spartans 0 – 2 Gateshead
FA Cup 1st Round 2011/12

Bogie Team Heed Account For Blyth Again.

Gateshead cantered into the FA Cup Second Round at the expense of local rivals Blyth Spartans. A scoreline of 2-0 flattered the famous Cup giant killers as the Heed controlled the game almost completely from start to finish.

With Spartans hoping to draw on their famous Cup exploits of 1978, when they should have reached the Sixth Round and a tie against Arsenal to progress to the Semi-Final stage, their visitors turned in a professional performance that had the green and whites chasing shadows for much of the game.

With Phil Turnbull excelling in the Gateshead midfield, able assisted by Micky Cummins and Kris Gate, Heed dictated much of the tempo and but for a number of fine saves made by Blyth ‘keeper David Knight, could have won by a far greater margin.

When Blyth were defeated in the FA Trophy Quarter Final by Gateshead last season, it was a defensive error that allowed the Heed to open the scoring, and the hosts were again guilty of falling behind as a result of their own play.

Dangerman Jon Shaw helped himself to his 19^th goal of the season, this being his 20^th game, after 14 minutes where the only attacks came from the men in white. There seemed little danger when Shaw headed a long ball on that was collected on the edge of his own box by Dan Groves. With Shaw chasing man and ball, Groves inexplicably tried to dribble out and was dispossessed with ease by Shaw who rounded Knight and slotted the ball into the unguarded net from just inside the box.

Gateshead almost extended their lead soon after when Cummins rose highest to connect with a right wing corner, but Knight flung himself to his right to collect the header. Knight was again in action within another couple of minutes when he tipped Shaw’s right footed drive over the ball when at full-stretch and with the ball looking destined for the top corner.

With Gateshead’s defence rarely called into action, the chances came thick and fast for the Heed Army in the Plessey Road end of the ground, making up 1,014 of the 2,763 crowd.

Before the first half was out, Shaw went close with a volley that flew just over the bar before a header was again well saved by Knight. Yet for all the one way traffic, Blyth went in at the interval still in the tie after a “disappointing” period of football according to Spartans boss Steve Cuggy.

The home side started the second half with their best spell of the game and Jamie Mole, their recent attacking capture, went close only minutes after the restart when he latched on to a Richie Slaughter long ball and clipped the top of the net with a vicious right footed shot from a cute angle.

Unfortunately for Blyth, the spell didn’t last for long and Cummins doubled the lead after 54 minutes to kill off the last of the Northumbrian team’s hope.

When the ball was played in from the left side, Shaw collected the ball and instead of turning on goal, he unselfishly laid the ball off into the path of Cummins who was arriving unmarked on the edge of the box. There was no need for a first touch as the former Ireland Under-21s midfielder side footed the ball to Kinght’s right, smartly threading it through a crowded box before celebrating in front of the mass of celebrating Heed fans.

With Gateshead playing out the remainder of the match, almost as though it was a practise match, and allowing the Blyth players hardly any of the ball, their ‘keeper, Jak Alnwick, was forced to make his only save of the game with seconds remaining when a Glen Taylor shot was hit straight at him.

Sunday’s draw brought a home tie against Tamworth or Hinckley and a real chance of progression to the FA Cup Third Round for the Tynesiders, and a chance of being drawn against neighbours Newcastle United, a tie that manager Ian Bogie admits would be “a dream come true”.

For bottom of the table Blyth, attention turns to what could be a season long battle to avoid relegation down to the Northern Premier League; a battle that Cuggy is confident of winning.

Blyth Spartans: Knight, Slaughter, Cave (Forster 72), Phillips, Groves, Pearson, Mason (Offiong 66), Hooks, Armstrong (Taylor 77), Mole, Emms.  Subs (not used): Anzevui, Crook (gk), Purvis, Hunter.

Gateshead: Alnwick, Baxter (Henderson 80), Carruthers, Clark, Curtis, Brittain (Moore 69), Cummins (Nix 85), Turnbull, Gate, Fisher, Shaw. Subs (not used): Deasy, Rents, Mulligan, Gillies.

Referee: Daren Bond (Burscough)
Att: 2,763

Words From Croft Park: Andy Hudson. For more on Northern League, visit Andy’s world-wide-website Gannin’ Away – and for Swedish football at Blagul Fotboll.

Photos reproduced from the Gateshead FC website.

Brentford 1 – 0 Basingstoke Town

When it comes to the FA Cup or indeed most sporting contests, I, like many, often support the underdog. We’re always told it’s a British thing, we like to pick the poor sods that are expected to lose in the hope they will rise against the odds. It’s not always quite as simple as that though, there are a few other considerations, such as budget and on and off pitch attitude to consider (think Crawley last season) but in general I think you know what I am saying.

Unless your team aren’t the underdogs.

This can cause me a few problems as a Brentford supporter during the early FA Cup rounds. On most occasions I ignore it and I just hope to see the Bees through to the third round. Then it’s time to pray for that draw against a giant and our turn to be the little guy. I prefer one that’s beatable. Liverpool will do me this season thank you very much. Bollocks to going to Maine Road or Old Trafford for a tonking.

But it’s not always that simple.

Eleven years ago the Bees lined up against Kingstonian at Griffin Park. It was the period when Ron Noades was self-appointed manager of the team, which sounds even more ridiculous as I write this than it seemed at the time. Brentford were having a run of bad results and looked clueless on the pitch. The other thing was I lived in Kingston. Not only that but I popped down to the friendly Kingsmeadow when I couldn’t get to a Bees away fixture and thoroughly enjoyed it. I remember being very impressed with midfield play-maker Geoff Pitcher. I always thought he’d play at a higher level. Apart form a few games for Brighton, he didn’t.

So I’ll be honest I took the Bees 3-1 defeat and humiliation that day rather well, Noades resigned (as manager at least) and I decided to jump on my hometown team’s bandwagon. I enjoyed away trips to Southend (a 1-0 backs to the wall victory, with shots on target something like 1 to 20) and Bristol City (the league club grabbing a late, late equaliser) before the norm was resumed in the replay. There have been other times when I’ve quite enjoyed seeing a non-league team I know little about playing well at Griffin Park, although not to the point where I remember wanting them to win.

Basingstoke Town then. On the face of it I have no affinity with the town just down the M3 from me. But dig a little deeper into the football team and I have a few, if tenuous, connections. I live the other side of Kingston Bridge nowadays and my local team is Hampton and Richmond Borough, where I enjoy Saturday afternoons when the Bees aren’t calling me. Basingstoke feature two players who spent a few years on Hampton’s books.

Stuart Lake is a midfielder who ran and ran for the Hampton cause. He popped up in the opposition’s penalty area as much as he defended in his home half and he scored a very important goal on the last day of the 2006/7 season which helped drag the Beavers up into the Conference South. I know his dad too, well a little bit.

Shaun McAuley was more of an enigma at Hampton, a bit of a luxury player. Manager Alan Devonshire didn’t seem keen on starting him so he had to make do with mostly substitute appearances. But he offered something different from Devonshire’s effective but basic tactics, he’d find space, run with the ball and beat players, the sort of stuff I always imagined was frowned upon. He scored an important end of season goal too which looked like it would help push Hampton into the Conference. In the end it didn’t but that’s another story.

Then there’s Basingstoke keeper Ashley Bayes, anyone who supports Brentford and is my age or older will remember this goalkeeper with a cold sweat. I still have nightmares about a young Bayes dragging a crossed ball into his home net right in front of me. But he seemed like a nice guy and I always looked out for him after he left Griffin Park during his more successful stays around the lower and non-leagues.

I headed to Griffin Park on Saturday with some mixed feelings then. So far Uwe Rosler has done an okay job as Brentford manager so certainly I didn’t share the thoughts I had prior to the Kingstonian game or worse still during Terry Butcher’s horrendous but thankfully short-lived stay at Griffin Park. I went on strike immediately he was appointed, only crossing my personal picket line once. I am embarrassed in some respects to say I was happy to see Brentford humiliated just to see Butcher removed from the club as soon as possible.

Overall I think I was hoping for an exciting Brentford 3-2 win with messrs Lake and McAuley getting a goal each.

I am sure Basingstoke’s supporters had even higher hopes and of course they showed up at Griffin Park in impressive numbers, probably close to or exceeding their average home attendance. They started strongly, prepared to attack (or ‘hoof it’ as the bloke next to me preferred to describe it). But the first goal came from another excellent Sam Saunders free kick for Brentford. Some call Saunders the David Beckham of the lower leagues. There, I guess I’ve done it now as well.

From then on the pattern of the match seemed to be Basingstoke would work hard and push forward, while Brentford were prepared to bide their time. The danger of this of course is that the momentum starts to change and in truth Basingstoke started looking the most likely to score, especially into the second half. I was pleased to see Lake running ‘Stoke’s’ midfield and much of their attacking options coming from McAuley runs and passes linking midfield and attack.

Did I want to see a Basingstoke equaliser? Well no not really. Did I want to see Brentford score more and humiliate Basingstoke? No I didn’t. They were putting up a fight. I didn’t feel like I could really win with this one. By the end of the game it was only Basingstoke who were carving out chances, although they were more of the half variety. Lake came close with a long-range shot, substitute David Pratt had a strong shot stopped by Bees keeper Richard Lee and there was a scrambled goal-line clearance.

The single goal difference kept a level of interest until the end. I considered that an equaliser wouldn’t be the end of the world and Bees would likely win a replay. But then there was that chance they wouldn’t.

But the final whistle saved any Brentford blushes. No doubt Basingstoke’s supporters left disappointed. I left having not experienced any of the drama I enjoyed at cup games at Hanworth Villa this season. But to be honest I hadn’t really expected to.

I am sure there were plenty of fans that did get something out of the game. Bees fans who were delighted to cling on at the end or annoyed with their team not thrashing the non-leaguers. Basingstoke Town fans proud of their club and reliving the memories of how they almost brought a league club back to the Camrose.

On my way home I felt a bit neutral about the whole affair and wondered if my afternoon wouldn’t have been better served by heading down to Sutton v Kettering. Then I noticed various items of clothing hanging from a tree outside some flats close to West Middlesex hospital. Closer inspection identified the front garden area covered in many more items including a pair of football boots. On this afternoon of personal indecision and wavering, there was a story worth hearing about.

Words & Pictures: Matt Allard, a wandering Bee and (his own words) ‘very part time motocross journalist’.

Redbridge 0 – 0 Oxford City

There is very little to say about this game. Throughout, it was eminently watchable, lots of endeavour, some hard fought challenges, some decent (long) balls but, bar a long range effort that hit the foot of the post (I missed), a missed sitter from Lee Steele and a last-minute disallowed Redbridge goal, there was little of genuine note to the game.

But it was the first time since the 80s I had been to a game with my dad. He is now a senior, a fact that the generous/cheeky young turnstile lady noticed even though he didn’t. “Half price!?”  Grrrrr.  With Dan and Nick also present, this was a restrained and alc-lite Real FA Cup afternoon out on a warm and dry then cold and misty afternoon in the Essex borders.

After a beer, a quick ‘hello’ and ‘good luck’ to Thursday’s interviewee, Motormen boss Terry Spillane, and a well observed minute’s silence through the lens of a Canon 450D, the game was underway to some hoopla and joie de vivre from the travelling support. In the opening 20-30 minutes it was all about City’s Darren Pond pulling strings. He was left to wander and got a lot of City’s moves going.

Throughout that period and indeed the game, Redbridge defended stoutly and tried to hit Ryan Murray with the aerial ball. More often than not he won whatever was thrown at him but his co-striker was never going the right way, nor close enough for the flick on, nor was Gardner able to find space in which to look for a pass. Essentially, Redbridge were well-prepared for what Oxford City had to throw at them but you wonder if Round 2 is a bridge too far for the Motormen. Hope not, they remain the lowest ranked team in the tournament.

After about 40 minutes Declan Benjamin let a shot go for City from about 35yards, the keeper lost it and it hit the foot of the post. I am told. I was in the toilet at this point. 0-0 At half time and for all Oxford’s possession (must have been 65%+) they didn’t look much like breaching the Redbridge wall.  Lee Steele replaced the ineffectual Basham on the hour and immediately blazed a shot wide.

Ten minutes or so later and Steele found himself in the best position of the match but tamely lobbed the ball into Rafis’ arms from about six yards. Should have buried it. At this point eyebrow’s started to raise, Oxford City were starting to look like they couldn’t score and wouldn’t score. The seasoned cup watchers around started to ponder the not uncommon outcome of a mugging, a late underdog goal against the run of play.

Sure enough, with the game well in to, if not past, the three added minutes, Redbridge swung in the last of their two corners, the ball wasn’t cleared and was headed through a crowd of players into the net. The ref blew and wheeled away to the centre spot but all but one of the crowd saw the linesman’s flag up. The goalkeeper may well have been baulked and Redbridge didn’t deserve to win but how we would have celebrated had that goal stood.

We may well have gone as mental as the ‘BBC Essex’ commentator sitting behind us, ‘commentating’ to himself throughout the game. His pitch shifted up through the octaves as the game went on and by the time he’d realised, about ten seconds after everyone else, that the goal wouldn’t stand, pretty much the only thing capable of hearing his shrieks were dogs.

Mr Radio Essex was fairly quiet in the first half and only occasionally could you hear his mumblings. But, once the second half was nearing it’s conclusion, it became clear that this was not BBC Essex’s finest. Indeed, a Tweet by Mark Segal from a Redbridge game four weeks previously started filtering back into my consciousness. He’d clearly witnessed the same guy and Radio Essex big wig Glenn Speller assured him they were not covering that game. BBC Essex’s Matt Barker provided the same assurance this week.

The game restarted and the final whistle went. 0-0, not a bad game but oddly bereft of incident except in the final minute. The away bench were disappointingly pragmatic and destructive, which may be why they couldn’t break down a dogged side. Had they looked for space and positivity, maybe they would have had more joy. As it was, it was all ‘get tight’, ‘pin him’ or ‘get in to them’, which was odd as they were clearly the better side.

Whether the 465 attending here will, in ten days time, be heading back up the mysterious motorway Mr Radio Essex reckoned lies between Redbridge and Oxford, we have no idea. Whoever does will see a tie decided, the victors visiting last year’s alleged non league FA Cup story, Crawley Town.

By his own admission Terry Spillane’s FA Cup history as either player or manager isn’t the stuff of legends but, now age 50, all of his Christmases appear to have come at once at Ryman 1 North’s Redbridge FC.

The average cup run of even the giantest of giant killers tends to offer up one huge win, perhaps another surprise and then a series of wins over equal or lower league opposition. We’re not saying it’s easy to put in a long FA Cup shift but you need the rub of the green.  Redbridge are doing it the hard way.  Five games in to their FA Cup run and they’ve already had to dispose of three teams above them in the pyramid, one of them three tiers up.

After beating Cockfosters in their first game, “it’s been four Cup finals in a row for us” said Terry. It has. Next up was Wingate & Finchley of the Ryman Premier League, newly promoted out of Redbridge’s division and they had doubled The Motormen last term. Being 5^th in the Premier Division didn’t help Wingate as Redbridge brushed them aside 3-0 in a game that sounded like it could have been 5 or 6 apiece.

No let up for the Motormen, drawn out of the hat against another Premier side, Bury Town, who were going even better than Wingate. Four wins on the spin and in the middle of a 10 match run during which they won 9. The one they lost? Well, of course, Redbridge, else we wouldn’t be here now. Ben Bradbury scored a sixth minute penalty and the Motormen hung on for 84 minutes for another famous win.

In the 3^rd Qualifying Round “Dunstable were keen to tell us they were unbeaten, you know, the usual mind games we all play” says Terry. A tier below but riding high, Dunstable held their own for the most part but cracks appeared in the second half and Redbridge ran out comfortable 3-0 winners despite some scares, including a saved penalty.

Such a cup run often affects league form but Redbridge’s has been more patchy, which it has been all season, than bad. But if it has affected it, Terry wouldn’t change it “It’s the FA Cup, best cup in the world. We’d rather be in it than out of it. I mean, I don’t think we’re going to win it [the Cup], although I’m not sure yet!” We both laugh. I can’t quite tell whether it’s a devilish aside, or he’s harbouring sincere thoughts.

Am FA Trophy win over Needham Market followed, swiftly returning to defeat in the league at the hands of the same opponents. The win was at home, the loss away. We’ve been to Redbridge before, the pitch takes a bit of getting used to. It’s very good in parts but very bobbly in others. Will it affect the game? “We’re used to the Redbridge bobble” says Terry, “it can be a slight advantage because we know to expect it”

Next up, the fourth and actual Cup final.  Ebbsfleet might be just 20 odd miles away across the big river but they are 71 places and 3 tiers further up the pyramid.  Instead of being Redbridge’s final effort, it turned out to be their best since they changed their name from Ford United (Port vale fans will remember them). They beat Liam Daish’s men 2-0 and a manager and squad of players had reached the propers. “Massive cup win” beams Terry, clearly very proud, and rightly so. “We’ve put Redbridge on the map”.

When the draw came out, they were probably as disappointed as were Oxford City? A fifth cup final. “Well, I’d have loved to have got Brentford or Charlton, no disrespect to Oxford City they were probably thinking much the same”. ”We had them looked at and we’ll be up against it, they’re top of the league. It’s a cup final again.” As Terry alludes, Oxford will be favourites, they are top of their league and that league is one step higher up football’s ladder.

Clearly already some memories from this run, how about personal ones from the past? “West Ham 1 Arsenal 0 [1980 FA Cup final]. I’m a West Ham fan, Sir Trevor scored that diving header [his only ever one, said I], he was my favourite all time player and I was at Wembley with good friends. Cardiff [the best cup final of recent times, Liverpool 3-3 West Ham] was also good but Ebbsfleet is up there”.

So, hypothetically speaking and not tempting fate, who would you like next? “I haven’t thought about it”. Terry ponders a while and then repeats, as if having thought and still not come up with a name.  He appears to have genuinely not thought about it. Higher thoughts had drifted in, he adds with a flourish “I’d want West Ham but that’s two rounds away!”

So, the game is but two days away. I am speaking to Terry a few hours before Redbridge’s final, pre-game training session on Thursday evening.  Any nerves? “Yes. it’s the final build up, a little nervous really.  Not about the game though. We’re still underdogs but we don’t want to let ourselves down. Redbridge is buzzing. We’ve put Redbridge on the map, we didn’t set out to but there you go.”  And how has the run affected the club? “It’s put £30k+ into the club and that’s invaluable. We’ve been able to buy training kit! The players still have the dream to turn pro, it’s nice to [afford a little] bit more professionalism.”

I  told Terry that we do a poll every year, fans can vote for their non league team of the tournament and FC United and Hythe were the top two. “I followed their run, it was great” he said about Hythe. Does he think Redbridge will be winning it this year? He chuckled but gave nothing away.

By the time this gets published, Terry’s troops will have had their final drill. We’ve no idea what’s going to happen but, either way, a non league side from at least the 8th tier of English football will be in round two of the oldest cup competition in the World!

Redbridge v Oxford City
3pm Saturday 12 November, Oakside Stadium, £10, concessions available.

Thanks to Terry for sparing us a few minutes, Adam Dennehey for making it possible and Dave Horn for the photo.

THIS IS BLYTH POWER STATION

“I’ve seen many, many memorable moments on football grounds. Not many would beat this. They beat Crook Town and Consett. They beat Bishop Auckland and Burscough. They beat Chesterfield and Enfield. They beat Stoke City. It’s taken them such a long, long time to get here, but my word, they’re going to remember this night. It all belongs to the men in green and white” – Barry Davies, Blyth Spartans v Wrexham TV commentary.

Ken Teasdale was a young lad when his dad, Charlie, started taking him along to his local football team in the early 1960s. His earliest memory involves the FA Cup and Blyth Spartans losing to Carlisle United in November 1962 and since then he has rarely missed a home or away game. Ken’s family had been associated with Spartans for many years – his grandmother was the tea-lady and his grandfather was the groundsman at Blyth’s Croft Park home. The club, put simply, “is in my blood” he says.

As the 1977 season kicked off, Ken had no idea what he was about to witness: “There was no chance of ever imagining a Cup run. We were previously struggling and had a new manager in Brian Slane who was changing the squad”. By the end of February 1978, Spartans had become the greatest giant-killers in the history of the FA Cup and Ken had watched every minute of the journey.

The journey for Spartans began on 17 September 1977 when they travelled to fellow Northern League side Shildon. “That was a comfortable win with little hint of what was to follow,” Ken remembers of that day. Amongst the scorers that day was Brian Slane, who had started the season in prolific fashion. The goal was his sixth of the season, which was nine games old and had included a win the previous weekend against the same opponents in a league fixture where he had scored a brace.

Three weeks later and Blyth were on the road again, once more paired with opponents from their own league, this time in the form of Crook Town. A hard fought 1-1 draw was followed three days later by a convincing 3-0 victory, which Ken remembers “featuring a superbly flighted free-kick from Ron Guthrie” to complete the scoring. Little did Guthrie know that he was starting on an adventure to rival that of 1973 when he was Sunderland’s left-back when they lifted the FA Cup.

The Northern League again provided the opposition in the next qualifying round on 22 October. This time it was Consett’s turn to be soundly defeated, Spartans winning 4-1 to set up an away tie against Bishop Auckland on Bonfire Day.

“This was the game where we rode our luck most,” Ken recalls. “We were playing against a strong, local rival team and we battled to scrape through” with Ian Mutrie snatching the vital winner that sent his team in to the First Round proper.

League sides were avoided as Blyth were pitted against Burscough at home. Mutrie again scored the vital winner in another 1-0 victory on 26 November. Despite Blyth “dominating the game for long periods of time” the part-timers from Lancashire were stubborn opponents “and were very difficult to get past”.  The victory would result in a team from the Football League travelling to the north-east.

Third Division side Chesterfield travelled north on 17 December and were defeated by a close-range shot from local boy Steve Jones. “It was a heroic, rear-guard action that got us through after that goal, mainly featuring our centre-back Tommy Dixon and goalkeeper Dave Clarke”. Clarke played a blinder that day, proving his reputation of being the best ‘keeper in the country playing outside of the Football League.

The win meant that the Northern League club from Northumberland would enter the Third Round draw; a chance to have a crack at the big boys from the First or Second Division. Blyth’s name was pulled out of the hat first to give them home advantage. The next team to be drawn out was Enfield.

The team from the Isthmian League had defeated Spartans six years previously in the semi-final of the FA Amateur Cup, but on 7 January 1978 Blyth would get their revenge. In a “fierce game that saw the visitors reduced to 10 men” it was Alan Shoulder, the smallest man on the pitch, who scored the only goal of the game with a great header that sent a crowd of over 5,000 into wild celebration.

Blyth’s reward was a big tie away to Stoke City, who had recently been relegated from the First Division. After the match was twice postponed, the Victoria Ground was passed fit and on 6 February Blyth “produced the best footballing display of the Cup run”. Lining up for Stoke that day were quality players such as England international Alec Lindsay; Republic of Ireland international Terry Conroy; Howard Kendall and Viv Busby; and a young Garth Crooks, who was soon to represent England Under-21s.

Terry Johnson opened the scoring after 10 minutes for Spartans, his fourth FA Cup goal of the season after strikes in both games against Consett and a goal back in September against Shildon. Spartans emerged for the second half with their lead intact but then Stoke grabbed two quick goals. With ten minutes of the match left, Spartans looked to be going out.

Excitedly, Ken remembers what happened next: “We came back and grabbed an equaliser, in off the post, through Steve Carney. That produced a last minute finale where Johnson hammered home through a crowded goalmouth to win the tie 3-2. Johnson disappeared into the Blyth crowd behind the goal before emerging to a great ovation, which emotionally included the Stoke fans”.

The Fifth Round draw had already been made by the time Blyth defeated Stoke, and they knew that they would be away to the winners of Wrexham versus Newcastle United. For Blyth it was the opportunity to play at a packed St. James’ Park against their local neighbours who would surely overcome the Third Division Welsh team. Only Wrexham, just like Blyth, weren’t following the script. As Johnson was lashing in the winner, Wrexham were cruising to a 4-1 victory at The Racehorse Ground.

“There was an element of disappointment of course, but Newcastle were thumped 4-1 so Wrexham deserved to be there” – and on 18 February Blyth kicked off the game only one win away from the FA Cup Quarter Finals.

The Match of the Day cameras were there as the nation was gripped by Spartans fever. “The game should never have been played due to half a pitch being frozen.” Terry Johnson scored an early goal, latching onto an under-hit back pass and slotting past Dai Davies in the home goal, only for Spartans to be denied in the last minute.” That last minute of play goes down in Spartans history as the worst decision made against them.

A Wrexham attack came to a halt when the ball clearly went out of play off a forward’s boot. Alf Grey, the referee who would later officiate the 1983 Cup Final, gave a corner. On the icy pitch, Les Cartwright moved the corner flag so that it stood at an angle and floated the corner over which was comfortably collected by Dave Clarke. Grey then noticed that the corner flag had fallen to the ground and ordered the kick to be re-taken. The flag was balanced in the ground and Cartwright delivered another corner into the box that was cleared by the Blyth defence. Again Grey noticed that the flag had fallen to the ground and ordered the corner to be taken once again. The flag was placed back in the hole and Cartwright delivered another corner. This time the flag didn’t fall over. This time it was Dixie McNeil, wearing a red shirt and not green and white, who met the ball to head in the equaliser. Blyth had been denied an FA Cup Quarter Final place.

Blyth weren’t to be denied their dream date at St James’ Park. Police pressure meant that the replay on 27 February would take place at Newcastle’s home ground. People from all over the north of England wanted to see this match and the police were having to turn traffic away in a six mile radius of Newcastle”. Blyth itself was decorated from top-to-bottom in green and white, with bunting and flags hung from every building. “Such was the electric buzz around town, my wife went to her first and last football match that night”. Ken’s wife was heavily pregnant at the time but refused to miss the game.

With over 42,000 fans crammed into St James Park and over 10,000 locked outside, Wrexham took a two goal lead by the time 20 minutes had been played. With a deafening chant of ‘Spartans, Spartans, Spartans’ sweeping the ground, Blyth never gave up. Not one player and not one supporter gave up hope. After “Blyth attack-after-attack” during the second half, the ball dropped to Terry Johnson who fired home a volley. With eight minutes of play remaining, Spartans couldn’t summon up the strength to force an equaliser.

“The passion and all of the ovation goes to the men standing now in the middle of St. James’ Park as they raise their arms” – Barry Davies, Blyth Spartans v Wrexham TV commentary.

“It was an unbelievable and historic FA Cup run for a non-league side” which almost brought them a last eight tie against Arsenal, who themselves would go to the Final where they would lose out to Ipswich Town. At the end of the season, Blyth would eventually defeat Wrexham over two legs in the Debenhams Cup, a competition that was played between the two lower league teams that had made the biggest impact in the FA Cup that season.

Looking back at that season, Ken believes that the team were “successful mainly due to the absolute togetherness of the squad, along with huge belief and a very talented and strong group of players where even the little lads were hard as nails. All of the players were local men and some key additions were made, such as Keith Houghton and Alan Shoulder, as the Cup run went on. The best point for me personally was two of my all time heroes, Ronnie Scott and Eddie Adler who had both played 12 years at Blyth, were to finish their career after the monumental Cup run”.

The Blyth players earned a bonus of £350 worth of furniture from a local business for their FA Cup exploits, after earning £7 a week. By the time 1978 was out, a 26-year-old Alan Shoulder was leading the forward line for Newcastle United on the recommendation of Jackie Milburn, having quit his job at Howden Colliery, while Steve Carney, an electrician, would also make the journey to St James Park. Keith Houghton went to Carlisle United.

Soon after the remarkable FA Cup run, Ken and his wife bought a house, with the main criteria being the property “located within throwing distance of Croft Park”. The Teasdale family tradition still continues at Croft Park these days where 59-year-old Ken is the tannoy announcer and Ross, his son, chooses the music that inspires the Spartan fans. Ken still watches his heroes and believes that anything is possible of “every single player who pulls on that famous green and white shirt and gives everything they have, just like the heroes of 1978 did”.

Words & Interview: Andy Hudson of Gannin’ Away and Blagul Fotboll fame, with specials thanks to Ken Teasdale and Ross Teasdale.

The last time I watched Brighton play was the season I fell out of love with football. The Gifted Mr Noel Williams’ second and final goal for Brighton was followed by the first and, even now, penultimate career goal by Joel Lynch. Also in Brighton’s side that day was chancer supreme Colin Kazim Richards, while Ipswich were at their lowest ebb since some point in the 1950s thanks to overspending by George Burley and the inability of Joe Royle to fashion a half decent side once the Premier League squad had all finally left.

Despite the win Brighton still went down – in fact my hazy memory wonders if they actually got relegated that day despite winning – they finished about 12 points from safety. Just four years on only Gary Hart and Adam El Abd remain from that Brighton side while Ipswich’s team have all moved on. Football was even then a different world. Although I didn’t know it at the time, I wasn’t the only one not enjoying that day. Shane Supple was hating it. Such was the Ipswich ‘keeper’s disillusionment with football that he walked away from it, back to Ireland, to a stint in Gaelic football and a possible career as a chef.

Afterwards, I went off to see Interpol at the Brixton Academy and have only sporadically returned to Portman Road since.  But I’ve actually been looking forward to this Woking .v. Brighton game. I’m looking forward to seeing how League 1 leaders Brighton are playing under Gus Poyet and, more importantly, his assistant and former Ipswich Town cult hero, Mauricio Taricco.

Two years prior to the above game and 27 minutes into his West Ham debut, ‘Treacle’ got a bad injury in a league match against Millwall. Rather than linger and leech the millions due in his contract, he offered to cancel it and quit football in a gesture of good will and honesty you’re unlikely to see ever again from a footballer.  Six years later, Little Mo is registered as an emergency player and, tonight, possibly for one game only, as a special treat to me, he dons his boots for one last hurrah! Oh my!

First thing to note is that Woking bars don’t do ‘forward planning’ or ‘research’. They just have a stunned look of surprise on their faces as 100 football fans descend on their pub on the night of Woking’s biggest game in years. Durrh.

Second thing to note is that if you’re going to build a massive stand that seats 3000 people, it might be wise to have more than 1 snack hatch and a few more staff on to cope.

And a third thing, the FA really do need to bring back terracing and I’ll tell you why.  Today’s student bladders are, seemingly, so retarded that they can’t last for more than 15 minutes. If you’re on a terrace, said man-bagged student just passes easily through a crowd and nips off up the aisle.  If you’re in a row of seats and student needs to do the same, the 20 people who have to get up, allow him to squeeze through and then sit back down again 6 times every half … well, it’s FUCKING ANNOYING.

Obviously we could choose to tell the students to do one but that would be a) uncharitable, b) misunderstanding of the necessity for beer in football and c) against the need for terracing to return to football. We’ve been spoilt with all the terracing we’ve encountered over the last three months and we can’t bear seats.

ANOTHER THING

Actually, there is a fourth thing.  It’s a game of football and Brighton are playing. That must mean we’ll hear songs of a homophobic or homosceptic nature based upon the perceived sexual ambivalence associated with the town’s population?  Oh yes.  Even in this week of several articles about homophobia in football?  You bet your sweet arse.  Will there be a tannoy announcement where club execs wag a nominal finger of warning to those intending to phobe it up?  For sure. Will the crowd take no notice?  Errr … yes.  But stewards and police will single out the perpetrators and dish out the promised arrests?  Right?  Err … well, we’re not sure, we’ll find out later …

Like some sort of massive European tie, the ground was very busy and two flares lit up the fog/smoke enshrouded ground, one in Woking’s passionate Kingfield Road end, the other thrown out of the Brighton fans in the side stand.  The killjoys moved in to extinguish the continental devices and root out the perpetrators. Bastards.  The Brighton team ambled around before kick off almost unnoticed and when the game kicked off they snuck up behind Woking, grabbed them round the throat and gave a massive great slice with a huge knife. Out of the blocks with menace, practically playing 2-4-4, they clearly wanted a quick kill. Sadly for them, the knife turned out to be a theatre prop and only left some ketchup on the otherwise unharmed neck of the Cards.

COIFF

As the game settled down the historically coiffed Taricco moved gradually back from his advanced wing back role to a more traditional full back one. Woking gradually got a foothold in midfield, largely thanks to Mark Ricketts.  The rest of the half was engaging in the kind of voyeuristic way you’d watch a sparring session between ear-biting-era Mike Tyson and unfunny funnyman Patrick Kielty but it was largely unremarkable and did little to hint at what was to come.

After an unsuccessful Woking counter attack they themselves got caught on the break, the sage behind us pre-empted what he thought an inevitable goal with a weary “one nil”. “Is it?” asked his six year old son … “errr, no …” replied his dad, tailing off rather than make the effort to explain inevitability or defeatism. As they did on so many occasions, Brighton failed with both the final ball and the subsequent finish.

“We can see you holding hands” sung a guy, gratifyingly solitarily. Sigh. Some moments later the lino takes a tumble under pressure from a Brighton midfielder. Hoho, damn no photo, hope ESPN got it.

Brighton are quite a pretty team to watch. Not content with a singular mode of attack, they sometimes try to get players to the by-line, they occasionally congested the central area and made lovely triangles, flicked balls round the corner of defenders and dinked balls over the top for a nippy forward. Quite refreshing really, even if the final ball or finish was very much lacking.

But we really wanted some fish and chips. Any ground that has its own chippy under the stand gets my vote. If only it wasn’t accessible tonight only via a three mile queue. I knew it would be futile and Brighton’s forwards were now slashing efforts wide with equal frustration. “Top of the League, You’re Having A Laugh” the Woking element judgementally sneered.

Little Mo put in a good shift. I was proud, like I haven’t been proud of an (ex) Ipswich player for some time.  As good with both feet as he always was, tenacious as ever but surprisingly reserved and not getting involved. To be fair, the match simply wasn’t that kind of match anyway but no verbals, scythes or wild gesticulating from my little dynamo!! 0-0 was probably fair, Brighton had had more threatening spells and possession but the counter attacking chances had fallen more to Woking. Tie poised.

Like a Mississippi steamboat the main stand(s) at Kingfield has a big old steaming stack and two shallow little stand units that, from an angle, look like a man with a very disappointed and heavy-lidded frown.  That frown must, generally, have been aimed at the pedantic ref.  A stickler of a whistler was he. And, in the second half, he took stickler-ish whistlery to a level that would have made the most officious civil servant blanche with embarrassment.

The only other explanation was that he didn’t want to be a ref anymore and thought he’d humiliate himself live in front of literally dozens, and Ray Stubbs, on a specialist satellite channel. It’s the only reason I can think of why he would book three players for taking free kicks either in the wrong place, or before he’d blown the whistle. Yes, that’s right, ‘booked’, not ‘had a word with’ or ‘reprimanded’ or ‘given a second chance to’ but BOOKED, immediately. In modern parlance, WTF!?

The game was now starting to get stretched and it was end to end stuff. For Woking, Elvis Hammond was STILL managing to turn both centre backs due to them being too close when he got the ball into feet with his back to goal. For Brighton, the little flicks round the corner and cheeky dinks over the top were starting to find a player. Murray and Bennett went close before a left sided cross from Taricco was knocked down to Sparrow who took a touch before burying the game’s first goal.

1-0

1-0 Seagulls and their fans finally woke up. It was as if the flare they set off pre-match contained sleeping gas and after an hour it had finally worn off.  The tannoy sprung to life to reveal the score and scorer before issuing the stern warning to fans that homophobic chanting would result in ejection and arrest. Three quarters of the stadium audibly laughed. Some of it was ironic chuckle, like what we did, some of it was with the knowldge that there would be no ejections and even fewer arrests.

Brighton fans were now ‘Ole’-ing every pass as if the goal was the first action of the game and Brighton hadn’t lost possession since. Most odd. A bit of head tennis in the Brighton box, both sides involved, elicited a plea of “STOP DOING HEADERS” from the aforementioned six year old. On the back of our necks we felt the air moved by the despairing shake of his dad’s head. ‘Fella, I think your son is trying to tell you that he doesn’t want to come here anymore’, we both thought. Sad but true, this child longed for the skillz ov Rooney and the comfort of Premier League. His dad won’t change that and dad knows it.

Woking were now starting to add possession and invention to their previously myopic attacking method of breaking out of defence at speed.  Quarm blazed wide with one of Woking’s best chances so far. Brighton’s reserve keeper Breznhev pulled another goal kick wide and ten yards shy of the half way line. His kicking was woeful. It’s a still night. He simply can’t kick. He is shanking relentlessly like a Russian sheep farmer.

For the twelftyieth time of the evening Elvis Hammond turned and slithered round one of two Sherman tanks in the Brighton backline, burst to the byline, wriggled twixxxt two more defenders and pushed the ball across goal where Gordon Greer turned it into his own net. A cracking goal but WHY OH WHY did those two experienced professional defenders not drop two yards off Hammond when the ball was heading in to his feet??? All he does is turn!  The turn is tight and slithery and well executed but just step back and his one missile is defused!  Blimey, even I can see that and I am not employed by Zonal Marking.

1-1

“We’re Going To Wemberlee” sang the faithful and in true FA Cup fashion the boot now transferred feet, tails were up and kitchen units were being hurled goalwards. Ademola was now starting to get the odd sniff of daylight past the tiring Argentine but his crossing was erratic and too deep. On the other side Aswad (this is not a weak joke about not turning around, his parents really did name him after Brinsley and the boys) Thomas was getting joy too. The crowd was announced as 4193 and 3400 of them were now enjoying the best 15 minutes of Woking pressure all game. Brighton got complacent in central areas and the Cards midfield got to everything first. Hammond fired past the post and several Aswad crosses turned the Brighton defence around but didn’t find a team mate.

Brighton got away with it and that was full time.  It’s difficult to describe extra time, it would take far too long and would be breathless. It was end to end, there were chances galore and horrendous shooting but as the half drew to a close the two Brighton centre backs seemed to finally get wise to Hammond’s turns and, all of a sudden Woking’s attack was looking less potent.

But Brighton had left one pebble unturned and, from a Woking corner, Ola Sogbanmu was completely unmarked on the penalty spot and nodded the ball past Breznhev and wrote himself in to FA Cup folklore with the Giant Killing goal that would fell the mighty Brighton & Hove Albion!  2-1.  Two minutes later, as Glenn Murray chested the ball down in the box, the “You’re not singing any …” song was cut short as Bennett pounced and steered the ball into the corner of Woking’s net. Doh!

Woking 2-2 Brighton

Just before time was called on the half the ref booked Taricco for an innocuous looking challenge near the centre circle. The previously dormant volcano of Latin temperament suddenly erupted. No idea what he said but the gesticulations came out and he maybe questioned the referees eyesight or parentage. Even if it was just a sulk, don’t forget he’s an experienced former Premier League defender and the ref had already booked three people for the heinous charge of taking a free kick. In the words of Jim Diamond, he should’ve known better and Little Mo’s evening ended after 106 minutes. Ouch.

You wouldn’t have guessed Brighton were a man down as the game’s final quarter concluded with both sides swapping turns at providing a fifth and decisive goal, which never really looked like materialising despite many oohs and aaahs.

What followed was our second weird penalty shoot out in a month.  The previous one had seen the first five penalties scored and the last five missed or saved. This time we saw Woking miss every single penalty they took and Brighton won 3-0 in about 2 minutes.  During a REAL FA Cup period in which we haven’t been too blessed with great games, this was probably the highlight of the FA Cup season so far. I got home at midnight and had some wafer thin slices of Sunday’s meltingly leftover belly pork, nom. 2000 words and I didn’t even mention Tim Buz…..

Homophobia Update:

We were in the BIG end and couldn’t always hear what was going on at the other end but have since heard from a couple of people who were in the rowdy end and said there were a few unpleasant homophobic songs and several people were ejected, one in particular odious man may even have been arrested.

ps: The keeper wasn’t actually called Breznhev.

I suppose we’d have to admit that we always have a fondness for the underdog, whoever that may be and, despite mine and my father’s assertions of neutrality to the Hayes & Yeading officials when asked “home or away” on arrival at Church Road on Saturday, we were quite hoping to witness our first upset of the season in this year’s FA Cup.

My parents moved to High Wycombe – the unfashionable boil on the backside of the beautiful Buckinghamshire countryside – whilst I was at University and I have always struggled to fall in love with the place. I have been to Adams Park on numerous occasions and vaguely claimed the Wanderers as my own “lower league side”. But it was always very half-hearted and I will be very surprised if I ever look back with any kind of nostalgia at the place. The “olds” are planning to move away very soon – having recently retired they no longer require the only thing that Wycombe’s miserable town centre provided them – a job – and I don’t think they will miss it either.

So it was then, that when pushed on the issue of partisanship by the stewards (who simply wanted to tell us which turnstile to enter by) we plumped for the home side and nailed our colours to the wall.

Hayes merged with neighbours Yeading in 2007 and play at Hayes’ ground – a proper old-fashioned sort of place, the likes of which are quite common in the lower leagues and remind you of days gone by when football was mainly about football and issues such as leveraged buy-outs, annual results and drug-fuelled three-in-a-bed romps were reserved for high-flying city businessmen. Since being United, Hayes and Yeading are plying their trade in the top level of non-league football for the first time but they are struggling near the bottom of the table and they only managed to attract a crowd of 274 for the previous week’s loss against fellow strugglers Altrincham.

Today was different though – it was the FA Cup and there was league opposition to be seen and possibly a giant killing to be carried out so, on a crisp autumn afternoon, an extra 1152 people deemed it worthy of their patronage and Hayes had a crowd to urge them on. Not that sheer numbers is enough to provide impetus to the 11 players on the pitch – some of the paying customers have to actually shout some encouragement from time to time and, disappointingly, the crowd was more visible than audible. A decent contingent from Wycombe gave their all from time to time and a reasonable police presence was positioned between the two sets of supporters on the far side of the pitch for the early stages of the match in order to prevent anyone getting over-excited. But they soon realised that they were not needed and slowly dwindled in numbers. One policeman near us might have made the understatement of the decade when passing by as he mentioned to his colleague that it “seems to have quietened down”.

The pre-game formalities featured the oldest mascot I have ever seen at a football match. For some time, I was convinced that Hayes had a player who was not only wearing number 50 but looked more overweight than your average non-league veteran and I feared for his fitness when taking on the former FA Cup semi-finalists that represented the opposition today. Having explained the slightly portly-looking gentleman’s less-than-athletic appearance to my visually-impaired father, I was slightly embarrassed to watch as the man, who was obviously celebrating his 50th birthday, left the pitch once the photos had been taken only to join his wife and children who had been standing right next to me all along.

Luckily the football began soon after and my shame evaporated. After one or two early half chances for the home side which came to nothing, the first half produced little of note for either side. The closest either side came to scoring was on 20 minutes when Wycombe’s ageing captain, Gareth Ainsworth hit an ambitious strike from 35 yards which had to be clawed round the post by Lee Harrison in the United goal. A fairly dull first period was summed up when Tom Cadmore managed to throw a ball which had been cleared into the crowd and returned to him, straight back into the stands. Hayes had edged it but had not really done enough to give anyone any thoughts that 0-0 was not the most appropriate half time score.

The second half was a very different affair and, whilst the match never quite lifted itself above “acceptable” as a spectacle, it at least provided enough entertainment to help fend off the biting cold that had enveloped the ground since the disappearance of the early autumn sun during half time.

Hayes had clearly decided that this was their best chance of a League Two scalp, probably realising that Wycombe were looking lethargic and lacked ideas going forward. Bradley Pritchard and Andy Yiadom began to pass and move and created some chances, most notably after 58 minutes when the two combined down the right after a Peter Holmes header – but Nikki Bull in the Wycombe goal came charging out, narrowed the angle and smothered Pritchard’s shot. A minute later, the favour was returned by Pritchard but Yiadom’s side-footed shot was too weak to cause the Chairboys’ keeper any significant problems.

Most of the crowd was beginning to sense that Hayes were winding up to take the lead at any moment but the League Two side burst their bubble with a goal of sheer ordinaryness. With Kevin Betsy seemingly a master of the art of running directly into defenders whenever he received possession, and precious little creativity anywhere else in their team, Wycombe’s tactics had become increasingly similar to that old advert for a certain bitter, simply punting the ball as hard as they could whenever a chance arose, almost as if they thought they could claim a replay if they managed to lose every single ball the home team had brought with them. If you throw enough mud at the wall though, some will stick and eventually Hayes failed to clear one and Stuart Beavon stretched out a leg to stab the Chairboys in front.

Wycombe then enjoyed a period where they were on top and it took some guidance from Jamie Hand in the Hayes midfield to get the home side back in the game. Hand was urging his side to take “two touches” and it seemed to do the trick when Hyde slotted Holmes in down the right hand side. The Hayes captain squared the ball first time and our Man Of The Match, Pritchard, was there to slot past Bull and even things up again.

Wanderers were stung into action and, after Scott Davies’ audacious effort from the kick off had gone just over the bar they really should have wrapped it up 4 minutes later when a cross from the left was struck against the inside of the post by Ainsworth. Strevens followed it up but somehow managed to head over from what seemed like a yard out.

Despite that chance, Hayes still looked much more creative in attack but they failed to put any of their chances away, Michael Malcolm guilty of two misses, one of which appeared to be simply passed to the Wycombe keeper.

With the game looking to be heading for a replay though, and injury time running out, Gareth Ainsworth sent Wycombe into the next round with a goal that can only be described as even uglier than their first. A Davies free kick turned into a scramble on the edge of the 6 yard area and Ainsworth stabbed it home to send the Wycombe fans delirious and the Hayes fans streaming towards the exits and the muddy car park.

It was a touch cruel on Hayes, who had played a good deal more football throughout the game than Wycombe but I guess it just goes to show that all the football in the world does not make up for actual goals.

Ding Ding, round 1. Or round SEVEN as it actually is. Why do the FA insist on this ludicrous descriptorial charade? Harrumph. Anyhow, enough shocks to keep you interested?  Three on the scoreboard with a few more potentials in the replays. We don’t like to be greedy but it’s just not enough. Not ruddy once have we seen a proper shock and, when we do, we will stop. No, probably not.

A quick word about one of the games we caught and then a review of the round.

At this stage last season, Bath, Kettering, Northwich and Staines sated our bloodlust for cupsets . And this time last year we had just watched in hope as Cambridge United dismantled non-league Ilkeston Town. Rather than non-league, Ilkeston Town are now non operational, it being vaguely ironic that their last FA Cup game was one of their biggest.

This time next year we hope we aren’t mourning the death of Harrow Borough, who we also hoped could pull off a shock. It is unlikely because their prefabricated Dance Hall is a revenue generator and they aren’t thought ot be at threat – but then that’s what Ilson fans thought … Anyway, once again, no giant killing for us. It was not to be. A thoroughly professional Chesterfield had no real trouble spotting the banana skin, they threw a carpet of sand over it, made it safe and then got on with scoring a couple of goals.

That’s not to say that Harrow were entirely outclassed, they had a few moments of encouragement and Dewayne Clarke caused problems with his movement. But you got the impression that Chesterfield were only in first gear and when much hyped forward Craig Davies was called upon to swat the non-league wasp, his relaxed gate, superb touch and bit of guile proved they needed to move up to second in order to obtain a result.

Harrow had opened up the Dance Hall to the hordes, the regular club bar being held over for visiting VIPs and dignitaries. The hordes never really materialised though and pre-match was oddly subdued.  The excitement seemed not to have got to the locals and the away fans seemed indifferent to visiting a new ground. Even in the ground there wasn’t much of an early buzz, it was more like a run of the mill BSP match between two poorly supported sides.

It did warm up though, a teenage Alex Song hair-alike got some tuneless attention from a dozen or so Spireites fans urging him to ‘give them a wave’.  He obliged until the Chesterfield jukebox switched to “He’s got a mushroom on his head”, when I think he raised an eyebrow and eschewed his brief flirtation with infamy.

A shade over 1000 fans in the ground is obviously a lot more than usual but still shy of what anyone would have hoped for. Maybe Chesterfield just aren’t THAT much of a draw? A fair result, a fairly entertaining game and a more than decent day out – replete with post-match 80^th birthday party in the Dance Hall and Ken Charlery’s facial topiary.

Elsewhere, Tipton Town and Hythe got put emphatically back in their box but a handful of non-league sides stepped up to the oche.

Simon Head covered the harrowing Kent tale elsewhere on this site but what a result! Revenge is a dish best served at the home of your nemesis after they’ve pillaged your club and cocked a snook at you. We have some sympathy for the injured Matty Lawrence and the vast majority of Gills fans but this is a moral victory for David and a cautionary tale for bigger clubs daring to show contempt for the little guy. [Take note for Round 2 MK Dons]

Meanwhile, up in Tamworth, on loan Derby keeper James Severn kept the Lambs giant-killing hopes alive while a superb top corner curler from Danny Thomas ultimately won the game against Dario Gradi’s League 2 Crewe.

It was with less pleasure, but pleasure nevertheless, we saw FC United of Manchester play their way to a 3-2 victory over Rochdale. ‘Cheat’ has been a harsh and overused word to describe the FC winner and, although it clearly should not have been given, we bloody well enjoyed it.

What took the gloss off, for us, was the FC fans spending the vast majority of the game not celebrating their own team but berating the owners of the club they left behind. While the atmosphere was quite clearly electric it’s a shame that the one thing I’ll take away from watching it is the FC United Players deserved a little more respect from their own fans.

We should really add Swindon Supermarine to our list of successful non-league debutants. Although they ‘only’ beat non-league opposition, it was opposition further up the pyramid. Supermarine beat Blue Square North’s Eastwood Town 2-1, probably to some relief. Having not got the glamour tie that some of their non-league couterparts managed, they have done enough for a second shot. FA Cup Round 2! This is uncharted territory for ‘Marine, heady days for their fans.