Bronx Cheer

My birthday treat was a trip to Rotherham United v Accrington Stanley

One of the greatest benefits of working in the Further Education sector was the frankly outrageous summer holiday entitlement. Though not as generous as school teachers’ annual leave, the 5 weeks paid vacation in July and August gave one more than enough time to recharge the batteries. Nowadays, while in normal employment, the shorter allocation of time off is probably even more cherished because of its brevity. With my birthday falling on August 11th, I always take off the week in which it falls, which meant finishing on Friday 6th and heading straight to Whickham against Consett in the FA Cup Extra Preliminary Round at the Glebe Ground. I arrived in the nicest bit of Gateshead with time to spare, so I hit the One Eyed Stag micropub on the main drag, where I enjoyed two fabulous pints of Two By Two Simcoe at only £3.60 a go; absolute nectar and then the game, enjoyed in the company of Harry Pearson and Joris Van de Wier, was utterly superb. Two footballing sides going at it, end to end, from first whistle until the last; keeping the ball on the deck, utilising flicks and short passing. After twice being behind, Consett got themselves level and won it 3-2 in the last couple of minutes. If only all football was as good as this game.

Saturday was forecast to be a complete washout, which meant I’d made tentative plans to take in Whitley Bay against North Ferriby, with View from the Allotment End editor Matt Kempson. Surprisingly, it stayed dry and so I was in situ for the whole of Tynemouth’s loss to Chester le Street by 42 runs. Thankfully, after a 1-1 draw at Hillheads, Matt came to visit me and saw the dying embers of the cricket, as well as picking up a couple of copies of glove #8. Unfortunately, because I’m stupid, I didn’t realise I’d left 4 tickets for Durham’s 50-over game against Essex on the Sunday inside one of the fanzines. Matt pointed this out to me as soon as he realised. Unfortunately, this was not until he got home. Never mind eh? At least they were freebies, so I didn’t lose anything, and, more importantly, Durham won without my patronage.

As you’ve probably realised, my week off was developing a strong sporting theme. Obviously, there was my regular game of 6-a-side on Monday to enjoy, but also, I’d decided it was time to go out into the wide world again and ground hop. My initial plan was to do two Carabao Cup games at previously unvisited Football League grounds on successive nights. I quickly identified Birmingham City against Colchester United and Burton Albion’s clash with Oxford United as the ideal choices, mainly because I’d already decided my blog about the trip would be called Brum and Bass. No sooner had I start planning trains, accommodation, and tickets than news came of a rescheduled Tynemouth Midweek XI fixture. If we went to Ashington Rugby CC on Thursday 12th and won, we’d be champions. As a result, I decided I couldn’t do two nights away and, instead, began looking for a day trip. 

The obvious choice was Rotherham United against Accrington Stanley. This wasn’t my first visit to The Millers, as I’d twice visited their former ground of Millmoor, firstly for a 5-1 win by Newcastle United in September 1982, in a transit van full of loonies, driven by a psychopath who drank a full bottle of Beefeater gin, neat, on the way down and got us into a potential battle with a load of Leeds United psychos in a pub in York afterwards, resulting in my sharp exit to jump a 125 back to the Central. Secondly, for a 3-3 draw with Maidstone United in September 1991, with my friend David Brewster from University, who I lost touch with in 1996 and who I recently learned had passed away at Easter this year. RIP Dave.

While Millmoor still stands and hosts youth football, Rotherham have not played there since 2012, when they moved into the New York Stadium, on the other side of the River Don and railway line from their former home. Having secured a match brief for £13 after registering on the web site and booked a reasonably priced train ticket, I headed off on Tuesday afternoon, arriving in Rotherham about 17.30, following an uneventful journey. Frankly, as a town, Rotherham has little to recommend it, though it isn’t unpleasant either, being relatively untainted by hideous concrete monstrosities. No doubt the proximity of the hideous Meadowhall shopping complex explains the lack of any real shops in Rotherham town centre. Either that or the endemic poverty. Anyway, I managed to waste an hour in aimless wandering before heading to the ground.

The New York Stadium is one of my favourite of the new grounds I’ve been to, and I’m fully aware I need to visit another dozen of them (Brentford, Brighton, Cardiff, Coventry, Man City, Millwall, Oxford, Shrewsbury, Spurs, Stoke, Swansea and West Ham, if you’re interested). It reminds me of a smaller, more compact Doncaster Rovers. The tight corners keep the sound in to create a decent atmosphere, even with a paltry 3,131 in the ground, including a couple of hundred over from Lancashire. Thankfully I’ve got an aisle seat, so I’m unlikely to get anxious and can enjoy a 1998 era playlist of Brimful of Asha followed by Right Here, Right Now, rather more than the deplorable body odour from the stereotypical Yorkshire bloke in a nylon polo shirt to my right. 

The Rotherham team includes a couple of familiar names; ex-NUFC players Dan Barlaser, who has an utterly anonymous first half before being hooked at the break, and Shane Ferguson, who is as timid and ineffective as he ever was. The game, seemingly typical of most contests at this stage of the competition, is tame to the point of somnolence, until Accrington take the lead on 37 minutes. Dion Charles got on the end of a long punt forward, did a little shimmy in the box, before finishing strongly across the keeper and into the bottom corner. On the balance of play, it was deserved.

In the second period, Accrington continue to look the better team, but don’t appear that keen on increasing their lead. They have an organised high press and seem intent on slowing the game down, frustrating the home team and fans. It gets worse when the Millers bring on Smith for Ladapo up top, when strongarm tactics become the order of the day, to the extent of incurring 2 bookings for scything challenges in 45 seconds. From the second of these assaults, Sadlier fires in a glorious free kick from fully 30 yards on 75 minutes, which totally changes the dynamic of the game. Both sides go for it, and we have 10 minutes of end to end mania. Just as I’m checking later trains back, Stanley pinch it.  On 86 minutes, Viktor Johansson palmed a shot straight up in the air and Colby Bishop nodded the loose ball home.

Cue a Stadium of Light style fire drill as the ground empties to a chorus of grumbles. The whistle goes in an almost empty bowl and I head up back to the station to catch an earlier train, containing a smattering of Blades, celebrating their 1-0 win over Carlisle by singing the Greasy Chip Butty song in a desultory manner. I change at Doncaster and turn 57 just south of Darlington. An hour later I’m asleep in bed after a damn fine day out.

Oh, just to say we beat Ashington Rugby CC by 7 wickets on the Thursday and so are the champions. Modesty prevents me mentioning my 2-25.