A cold day in November tends to signify a return of these blogs. There’s just something about these cold, wet, dark Saturday afternoons that no one likes but still decides to stand outside for two hours watching 22 blokes run around some grass kicking a sphere. It’s entertaining sometimes, I promise.
Last time out, I went down to watch Farnborough as we got torn apart in the second half by Dorking Wanderers. Seeing as we'd been given a dreadful away tie against Salisbury in the FA Trophy, I thought I’d follow Chasetown instead as their win against Belper last month saw them travel to the depths of Worcestershire as they faced Step 3 side Alvechurch.
The Church had sacked their manager Jimmy Fry last week, but as I write this on Sunday, they’ve just announced Tim Flowers as their new manager. That meant an interim player/manager was in place yesterday for Alvechurch as Richard Batchelor took to the dugout while Chasetown manager Mark Swann was banned from the touchline. I only found that out when he walked past me one minute before kick-off.
But how did we get here? That’s the main content of the day. Regular readers will be familiar, I talk a bit of absolute nonsense, mostly grumble about trains and then talk a bit about the match before going home. So no different to most match-goers really, other than the fact I have a website. How fancy.
My peaceful slumber was abruptly interrupted at 9am as my phone alarm rang louder than a town crier on the piss. I really do need to find a way to turn it down. I just can’t figure out how, so it’s always a good way to wake up, jumping out of your skin. After an embarrassingly long amount of time after my alarm, I eventually rolled out of bed and got myself into a somewhat presentable state before meeting up with Robbo at the station. It was just the two of us today as neither of the usual clan could be arsed to do the away day despite the (pointless) international break. Amateurs, the lot of ‘em.
The train was scheduled just after 12pm, but we met early so we had time to spare when we got to the station. Of course it was so I could get my fuel from Greggs or Costa (delete where appropriate.) In this case it was Greggs and a sausage roll was in order to provide me with energy until we reached the ground where I would once again snack on something. Once that was consumed we strolled onto the platform, at which point, bang on 12pm, Robbo produced a sandwich from his pocket (so he says, it looked like he just plucked it out of thin air). He’d made some sort of chicken sandwich. Well, I say made, he’d chucked some processed chicken slices in between some bread and didn’t put any butter on. This led to an unprecedented and extremely dull conversation about his usage of butter. We don’t waste our weekends. Somehow, we managed to turn that conversation into a five minute argument.
Only me. Maybe that’s why these blogs are so long. Anyway, once that very dry conversation (and sandwich) was finished, we headed onto the train and almost got a seat, only for some dipshit to get their first and put his bag on the seat next to him. They must do it deliberately, those people. No other explanation. Even with that, though, the train wasn’t too busy, which was a welcome relief from the usual chaos that is East Midlands Railway.
The journey itself was relatively uneventful and me and Robbo passed the time by talking various different topics including Jake Paul’s bizarre fight with Mike Tyson on Friday night/Saturday morning (I’m glad I didn’t stay up for that - real shame the way the sport is going). We also discussed the new batch of recruits on I’m a Non-Entity, get me out of here, which I think we can all agree, would make a much better programme title. Apparently Coleen Rooney is on it and it looks as if Rebekah Vardy has already moaned about her to a newspaper. I won’t mention its name because it’s hardly worthy of even being called a newspaper. Let’s just say that the city of Liverpool don’t like it. Anyway, that newspaper (more toerag) got at least four articles out of Vardy talking about Rooney in a way that only a cynic would say that she’s bitter about losing her legal case. I wouldn’t say that, though, as I’m not a cynic.
Once we reached Tamworth it got a little more crowded, it’s fair to say. Someone even ended up bringing a dog on the train and despite its energy to try and run around and annoy everyone it stayed firmly in the arms of the owner. We took a short breather at New Street before grabbing the connecting train and managed to spontaneously invent a new peoplewatching game. We struggled to know what to call it, but either way, depending on your perspective it will either let the hours fly by on a journey or will get very old very quickly. Seemed like a mixture of both, to be honest. Seeing as it was a Saturday, I thought of finding someone with a suit would be good for a rare find, but as we found that trickier than we first thought, we then said ‘find someone with a can’ but that didn’t happen either? How does no one in a major train station have a can to drink on a Saturday? Poor from the lot of you.
Once that game grew old, the stations went on and on as Robbo had a kip and we arrived at Alvechurch station. We got the online maps ready and as we walked through the winding roads, it looked like quite a nice area. We had quite some time to explore it as somehow we both managed to make a monumental cock-up of the maps and for about five minutes we must have gone back on ourselves twice and missed the correct turn in.
We rocked up to the ground around 14:15 and, in all honesty, it didn’t seem like a Step 3 level ground. However, as long we get some good football and some good food I’m not massively bothered. There’s a large slope on the pitch, too, going in both directions, which probably favours (and did favour in this game) the team shooting down the hill, but more on that later. As some of the Chasetown stalwart came through, it began to drizzle and the clouds gathered above, promising a pretty big deluge. Or, in other words and non-weatherman terms, it’s probably gonna piss it down soon. I queued to get some grub and parted with £4.50 to grab a bacon and cheese burger, which to my surprise, was actually pretty good. That’s not a dig at Alvechurch, it’s just a comment on how food normally tastes at the football, and this one was better than most. Maybe it was the bacon that made the difference.
Alvechurch: Hollingshead, Perry, Pearce (Capt), Batchelor, Richards, Dyer, Sullivan, Wakefield, Barnett, Crowther, Sephton
Subs: Willis, West, Carter, Peets-Fearson, Reka
Chasetown:
Subs: Pond, Hayward, Clarke, Fenton, Taylor, Wilding, Yates, Butlin, Glover, O’Callaghan (Capt), Dunne
Subs: Evans, Thompson, Cater, Chimenes, Sargeant
The build up to kick off was relatively uneventful, and seeing the coin toss, we dashed around to the other end of the ground to stand behind the goal Chasetown were attacking. On the way past, we stop to chat to a number of people so as a result, miss kick off. Typical. Once we made it round, we were entertained by a pretty decent battle to start before Chasetown got the better of the game.
The first real chance came on the ninth minute when Kieran Fenton hit the post, only for Danny Glover to follow it up with a volley, but it was well saved by Ryan Hollingshead. Joey Butlin won a penalty in the 18th minute after a blatant foul in the box, but Danny O’Callaghan’s effort was saved.
There was a bizarre moment in the 26th minute when Kris Taylor was stood over a free kick in his own half, but was ordered off by the referee as a result of not wearing his shinpads. By the time that was being sorted, Curtis Pond went to take the free kick, only to be booked for timewasting.
Alvechurch were denied at the other end midway through the first half with their only chance of the game to that point. Chasetown pushed on and were unfortunate not to go into the break ahead. Joey Butlin had the final chance of the half for Chasetown but he blasted his shot over the bar and it almost landed in Worcester.
On the referee’s whistle, me and Robbo headed straight for the bar for some half-time beverages, and one advantage of non-league football is that you can drink alcohol in view of the pitch. It’s still in plastic cups, non-league isn’t completely rogue, but who doesn’t want to have a pint and watch the match at the same time? One of the many benefits of non-league football.
Then, the second half started.
Nothing happened.
Then it ended.
That’s how it felt, anyway. A sluggish second half dragging on forever in the cold and the wet. It was time for Chasetown’s second penalty shootout in as many FA Trophy games. Kris Taylor, presumably now with his shin pads on, stepped up first and had his penalty saved. Fantastic start. It became quickly apparent that there was no stopping Alvechurch as they thundered in penalty after penalty. Curtis Pond was booked for kicking the ball away and looked absolutely not bothered about the matter whatsoever. A reminder that yellow cards are wiped before a penalty shootout, a rule that no one seemed to know about until last year.
Kris Taylor was the only one to miss and Alvechurch ended up victorious, running out 5-4 winners in the shootout. The National League sides come into the draw on Monday as well, so it will be interesting to see what the eye-catching ties are this time round.
So, with that, we had one more pint in the bar as it would’ve been rude not to. I managed to spill about a quarter of it down my coat, so that was a fun few moments sorting that out. Then we caught up on the latest scores, baffled at how Coleshill had buggered up their Trophy tie to go and lose 5-4 to Biggleswade despite being 3-0 up, and then we left. Trekking through the dark and the cold and the rain to get to Alvechurch train station, to then find that the train is delayed by 15 minutes.
Standard. Didn’t wanna go to Wembley anyway.
Tom.
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