A Match Too Far (on a Tuesday evening, at least)

While you are waiting for me to write up the victory over Woking (it is coming!), why not amuse yourself with the funniest video ever made about Bath City and Hitler? This little bit of genius was put together by City stalwart 'Sean' (the same guy who does the online updates for those not able to make matches in person).

It is referring to Braintree Town's recent decision to play our upcoming match on a Tuesday night. Both teams were knocked out of the FA Trophy in the first round. This means that both teams have a free Saturday coming up on the 13th of December. At first, everyone just assumed the match would be moved to the 13th, but Braintree have refused. This is very inconvenient for all City fans hoping to travel. The Braintree match is the farthest away of the season. Making the journey on a Tuesday when you might be working is not going to be easy.

Sean has shown a great way to vent his frustration!

The FA Cup Second Round, Part 2 - The Rub of the Forest Green

For The FA Cup Second Round, Part 1 - The Madness of Crowds click here.

Changing our position on the terrace took longer than I had realised. By the time we were settled again the match had been underway for several minutes. Luckily, the first few minutes were uneventful. I considered this good news - anytime City square up against full-time opposition from a higher league it is easy to imagine them getting hit hard from the opening whistle. If anything, though, Forest Green Rovers seemed rather ordinary. After ten minutes Adam Connolly used some fancy footwork to position himself for an encouraging shot from twenty yards out. It went wide, but it signalled a shift in the balance of play. City began to push FGR hard.

From my position on the Popular Side terrace I began to relax a bit. I was still singing, shouting and whooping, but the modest sense of terror that had accompanied previous Cup matches was absent. This was not because I was feeling confident City would win. I think it was actually a sort of excitement overload. This was the fifth match in Bath City's cup run this year. All of the matches had been entertaining, but nonetheless stressful. Each round had been preceded by an ulcer-inducing amount of worry about the result, and followed by an equally fraught session of trying to anticipate the draw for the next round. The Grimsby Town match had been so utterly fantastic that for the following week that normal life seemed dull and lifeless in comparison. Now I was watching my heroes take on Forest Green Rovers in a match that would give the winner a chance to play Arsenal or Manchester United in the next round. By all rights I should have been excited enough to lose substantial motor function or cognitive ability. Instead I found myself feeling relatively peaceful as I watched City's impressive midfield shut Forest Green's attack down. The only explanation I can think of for this is the mental tension must have reached a critical point and my brain shut down all unnecessary emotions. Something like that. I'm sure there is some sort of medical expert out there who will back me up on this one.

This turned out to be a fortunate phenomenon. Without it I might not have survived the next few minutes. Just before the half hour, Forest Green scored with a massive dose of luck. Their midfielder, Jonathan Smith, took a hopeful shot from twenty-five yards out. City keeper Ryan Robinson had adequate time to position himself well. He stood with his normal confident pose, waiting to catch the ball to his chest. Instead, the ball glanced ever so slightly off of City defender Chris Holland. The deflection caused the ball to go into the net about four feet to the right of where Robinson was expecting it. He tried to shift at the last moment but he was not balanced properly to shift in that direction. Against the run of play (and I mean really against the run of play) FGR had the lead.

This was a gut-wrenching moment. Not only was City trailing for the first time in their FA Cup run, but it was an undeserved goal. If my synapses had been functioning properly I'm not sure how I would have coped. Instead I decided to wait for what I thought would be City's inevitable equaliser.

My assumption that City would equalise may not have been entirely the result of a faulty thinking process. City have shown a resolve to win from behind this season that has been breathtaking to watch. What's more, they clearly had the measure of their full-time opponents. Chances were being created left, right and centre (literally), and it stood to reason that eventually someone would have the wherewithal to put one in the net. Fifteen minutes later this appeared to happen. Lewis Hogg lobbed a perfect cross to the outstretched foot of Kaid Mohamed. Mohamed was in front of an open goal. Unfortunately, Mohamed's foot was a bit too outstretched because he only managed to flick the ball over the crossbar.

A few minutes before the half my friend Dave turned to me and said, 'City are about to score. You can sense it.' Dave sensed right. Sekani Simpson collected the ball thirty yards out from goal and launched a long diagonal cross. Lewis Hogg stepped forward, unmarked, and headed it neatly into goal. The three thousand City fans crammed into the various pockets of Twerton Park went wild. It was a fantastic goal, - executed with skill and at lightning speed. I picked up Big Nedved Junior and we danced about. Surely City were on their way to victory.

Despite the fact that this goal had been on the verge of happening for most of the match, the FGR players were really shaken when they lost their lead. They had been struggling to clear the ball from their half all evening, but for the last few minutes of the half they struggled to even clear it from their penalty area. The City players passed the ball around like playground bullies, but never found the angle or position they required. This was the moment when Forest Green were vulnerable. They were almost asking to be finished off. City's finishing skills, already suffering, deserted them. The best this run of play produced was a mistimed shot by Sido Jombati right at FGR keeper, Terry Burton.

At the time I was not worried. I remarked to Dave that with all the chances City was getting, and with Forest Green only scoring through blind luck, I was sure City would win the day. Being English, and a more experienced football supporter, Dave counselled caution. You never can tell, he said.

Big Nedved Junior wanted to get some chips at halftime. The snack bar was on the other side of the ground from where we were. Normally this is not a problem, but it was clear that getting there and back in the halftime interval was impossible. The queue was probably outrageously long as well, but the solid mass of humanity around the snack bar made it impossible to tell where the queue began and the other spectators ended. We could have gone to the tea bar (much closer by), but the thousand or so people packed around it made me think we wouldn't have any luck there either. I consoled Big Nedved Junior with a description of the sandwich and crisps that awaited him in the car for the ride home. He was not impressed.

The second half began as the first had finished. City tried to take the lead as energetically as they had equalised. FGR only managed faltering attacks on the break.

One break did lead to a corner kick for Forest Green. It was the first corner City had conceded in the match. The City crowd was silent, briefly, as Conal Platt launched a kick that was too short to reach the main mass of FGR players. It was not too short to reach Mark Preece, though. He reached the ball with his head pointed down. Robinson got a hand to it, but Preece had managed to strike the ball sharply. Forest Green had another goal. Another goal against the run of play.

Big Nedved Junior tugged on my arm. 'I'm hungry,' he said again. Suddenly, the idea of queueing up for the tea bar didn't seem so bad. A welcome distraction, in fact. I agreed to take him to the tea bar. It was only five minutes before we returned with a Mars bar, it turned out. The jam-packed crowd had managed to somehow spontaneously clear the designated walkways. The queue from half-time, much reduced, was allowed enough room to function adequately. How utterly British.

After FGR's second goal City did lose their momentum for fifteen minutes or so. Forest Green were not dominant either. Other than a few runs at the City goal the game mostly consisted of intercepted passes in midfield. At the hour mark Sido Jombati was replaced by Florin Pelecaci, another crowd favourite, and the game reverted to its previous pattern: City controlling the game but unable to convert the control into goals.

The last thirty minutes of the match passed in a blur. I was riveted by what I was watching, but I somehow managed to remain hopeful City would win and resigned to a City loss at the same time. The crowd was fantastic. The singing never stopped. If you were judging a match on sound alone you would have figured City were the ones with the 2-1 lead. The FGR fans, segregated on the Bristol end, were watching their team grind out a victory, but they got quieter with each passing minute.

I had a gut feeling, or rather a firm desire, that Pelecaci would score an equaliser. Despite exuding quality with every touch, he had not seen much playing time recently. I figured he was due for a goal. While I waited, he shocked me with one of the best headers I've seen at a live match. Most of the headers in non-league football are opportunistic and uncalculated. Unless they are in front of a goal, they tend to be aimed no more subtlety than 'forward.' Playing on the right, Pelecaci positioned himself to meet a cross coming from the center. He leaped up (and yes, it was like a salmon), flexed his neck with a full 180 degree motion, and manged to play the ball downwards at the feet of a passing City player twenty feet forward and to the left. It was stunning.

Pelecaci did not score an equaliser, but he did have City's best chance. He was unmarked on the right when Hogg found him with a cross. For perhaps the only time in the match, a City player struck too early rather than waited too long. The ball went into the side netting.

Right after this moment Big Nedved Junior tugged at my arm again. 'I've lost a tooth,' he said.

He had. The right mandibular canine, to be exact. He smiled. There was a streak of blood across his cheek and a look of real pride in his eight-year-old face.

'Let me see it,' I said.

'I can't. I've lost it. It fell on the ground here,' he explained.

This was a real dilemma. My beloved Bath City were fighting valiantly to avoid elimination from the FA Cup, but my son's tooth was somewhere on the terrace around us. I knew if we waited for the match to finish we'd never find it. The stampede for the exits would overwhelm us. I'm pleased to say that I did not hesitate. I got down on my knees with Big Nedved Junior and we hunted for his tooth.

You might not know this, but football terraces are covered with all sorts of pointy, white pebbles that can appear like teeth in bad lighting conditions. I found a dozen or more objects that appeared to be the missing mandibular canine at first glance. I'm sure we got some strange looks from our fellow spectators as we ran our hands over every square inch of exposed concrete in a four foot diameter. 'Anyone seen a tooth?' I asked, but I didn't get any answers.

Everyone was, understandably, totally focused on the match. I could have said, 'Anyone seen a gold ingot?' or 'Anyone seen a large, deadly chunk of uranium?' and gotten the same reaction. City were throwing more and more players forward, and FGR made several decent attempts to go two goals ahead on the break. I stole momentary glances at the pitch when I stood up to stretch my back. There was no sign of any tooth. I mentally began to prepare a speech about how the fact that the tooth had come out was much more important than the actual tooth itself.

And then I saw it. It was one step below us in a place I'm sure I had checked half a dozen times previously. I showed it to Big Nedved Junior who scooped it up and tried to see if it would go back into its hole. I got it back off of him as soon as I could. I was convinced he would swallow it or lose it again if he kept that up.

Tucked securely in my pocket, we forgot the tooth and stood up to watch the last few moments of play. I'm sure the ref blew the whistle at the right time, but it sounded unfairly early to my ears. Despite their disappointment and nascent grief, the crowd cheered the City players. Most of them, with frustration and disappointment clearly showing on their faces, raised their hands to clap for the City supporters. It was more than the normal gesture at the end of most matches. I got the feeling that several players wanted to thank each and every person at the ground.

Dave, Big Nedved Junior and I began to walk through the Bath end to exit the ground (amazingly, we found Mark just as we started moving. He had been only a few yards away the whole time). Being knocked out of the FA Cup at any stage is horrible. Knowing that your team really should have won was a bitter pill to swallow. The loss of prize-money and publicity hurts too. As we shuffled past the hoardings, though, I realised what the biggest disappointment was for me. Drawing a Premiership side in the third round would have meant getting to see City square up against one of the best teams in the world. I desperately want to see that. City players are not famous. Once they are a hundred yards from Twerton Park they can walk down the street in total anonymity. To me, and to hundreds of others, however, they are heroes. Not just because of the shirt they wear, but because of the heart they have shown this season while wearing it. I really wanted to see Lewis Hogg tear up Manchester United's back four. I wanted to see Sido Jombati wrap his legs around Cesc Fabregas and come away with the ball. I wanted to see Chris Holland intimidate Jermaine Defoe. I wanted to see Florin Pelecaci land a perfect somersault goal-celebration on the turf at Stamford Bridge. It's not going to happen this year, but I am convinced that with a bit more luck against Forest Green Rovers, it might have.

FA Cup Second Round, Part 1 - The Madness of Crowds

Bath City lost to Forest Green Rovers 2-1 yesterday in the Second Round of the FA Cup. I should be too depressed to type right now. I should be too upset to do anything but watch repeats of Top Gear on 'Dave.' I should be too miserable to do anything but sit on the sofa listening to all seven Radio Head albums on repeat and shuffle. I am, however, resolutely not depressed. I feel proud. Proud of the team I support and proud of how well they were supported. In many years time when I am too old to do anything but sit in a rocking chair and bore people with stories about Bath City matches I have attended, it will be one of the few losses I will recount with enthusiasm.

The key facts are thus: City lost but they played well. I am biased, but I am fairly confident a neutral would have easily judged City the best team on the pitch. They played with flair, confidence, and passion. They dominated play for most of the match. They only lacked better finishes for the many excellent crosses they put in front of the FGR goal. City lost, but they did it in front of one of their biggest crowds of the decade. It was the first time I had seen Twerton Park truly crowded. It made the old ground feel really and truly alive in a way I had not seen before. Of the 3,325 supporters less than 700 were away fans. The City faithful sang from the warm-up to the end of the match, even as the hope for a victory ebbed away. It was a defeat, but City fans could be proud of their team and proud of themselves.

I arrived at Twerton Park with my friend Mark and my son, Big Nedved Junior, a few minutes after 2pm. This was a lot earlier than we normally arrived, but I was hoping that the crowd would begin singing during the warm-up and I wanted to take part. We were astonished to see how busy the parking lot was, though. There were several more coaches than usual and there were people in black and white scarves everywhere. After a few moments I realised that these were supporters of Forest Green, who also wear black and white stripes at home, queueing for the away entrance. Seeing so many FGR fans, I had a brief worry that they would outnumber us like the AFC Wimbledon supporters did last year. This worry turned out to be spectacularly misplaced.

Outside of Charlie's I managed to locate my friend Dave. We had been work colleagues for many years but I had not seen him since late 2006. After my repeated plugging of City on Facebook, and after finding out that one of his heroes, Ken Loach, is a supporter, he decided it was time for him to come to a match in person. The FA Cup Second Round seemed like a good match to start with.

Within a few minutes of entering the ground we had gotten our normal pre-match cups of tea and settled in on the terraces. Something was definitely different, though. There were already many more people inside the ground than attend a normal City match, and there was still a half hour to go before kickoff. The normal trickle of people walking across the Bath End to the Popular Side slowly turned into a torrent. I learned later that huge queues formed outside the turnstiles, filling the parking lot. My normal pre-match habit of meandering around the terraces, talking to friends and trading gossip was not going to happen. A few minutes before the match started we were almost hemmed in by fellow supporters. Big Nedved Junior, age eight, could no longer see any of the pitch except for a narrow strip to his left. It had not occurred to me that we would need to position ourselves in the front in order to give him a view.

After the coin toss the City players remained on the Bath End of the pitch. This meant they would be attacking the Bristol End goal. Normally this is a moment when almost everyone on the terrace moves to the Bristol End, but I wondered if it would be possible. I should have wondered if it would be possible to stop everyone from trying to move. Mark, Dave, Big Nedved Junior and I soon found ourselves carried along by the shifting crowd like logs on a river. I took Big Nedved Junior's hand so that I would not lose him in the mass of people. Because the area of the terrace we were moving into was still relatively full, it was a messy process. Moving meant weaving and pushing past the other spectators, but knowing that there were a hundred people behind you made it hard to stop. Once the pressure to continue lifted Dave and I decided to settle where we were. We had made just over the halfway line and no more. I still had Big Nedved Junior by the hand, but we had lost Mark. I looked around but could not see him. It was perhaps the first Bath City match in five years where two separated people could not find each other by just craning their necks for a few seconds.

FA Cup Second Round, Part 2 - The Rub of the Forest Green can be read here.

The Second Most Important Match of the Season - Win or Lose!

It is almost 2:30 am. I am unable to sleep. Tomorrow (or today, rather) is the 2nd Round of the FA Cup. Bath City are facing fellow non-league side Forest Green Rovers.

Let's be honest: it's not a clash of the titans. It is a match that will at best be a footnote in the history of either club. If City win the match will be seen as a staging post on a route to 3rd Round glory. The 3rd round is when the Premiership clubs enter the fray. Any fixture with a Premiership club would be the most important (and lucrative) in City history. An away match with one of the bigger clubs, like Arsenal or Manchester United, would make Bath City a household name for a few days. It would also give the club enough revenue to wipe out its debt and be one of the most well financed in the league. It would be like winning the lottery.

A loss for City, though, will still be a footnote, however. The victory over Grimsby Town was three weeks ago, but I still think of it constantly. A disappointing performance will just mean that the Grimsby Town match is the high water mark of the season. It was a moment so packed with joy we are already quickly turning it into folklore. We will sing of our victory at Grimsby for as long as our memories hold, but details of a loss tomorrow will grow fuzzy quickly.

To some extent Forest Green Rovers fans are in the same position (although they have not taken a league scalp in their run so far). So, while this is without doubt the most anticipated match in my nearly two years of following Bath City, it is not one I will dwell on for long. Neutrals will not likely dwell on it at all. The national media will not be bothered which of two non-league clubs is victorious. They will only take interest in either club if they draw a big name in the third round. Tomorrow's game will be out of the spotlight, tucked into the fine print of the Sunday sports pages.

Right now, at 2:30 am, it is a desperately important match. Come tomorrow afternoon roughly two thousand fans will, for two hours, cheer themselves hoarse, bite their nails, jump up and down, be totally and utterly alive. And then, whatever the result, we will move on.

The Shiny Happy People from Gloucestershire

Bath City have drawn Forest Green Rovers for a home match next week in the Second Round of the FA Cup. The selection was actually almost two weeks ago, but because Forest Green and Mansfield Town failed to produce a result in their Frist Round match, City could not be sure who their opponents would be until the replay two days ago. The FA Cup draw itself, on the day after the Grimsby Town match, found me and the Nedved Juniors gathered around the telly again after Sunday lunch. This time instead of City being drawn in the first few minutes we had to wait until nearly the end. It was not until the teams were selected for match number eighteen (of twenty) that Bath City's ball was drawn. My first reaction, after I stopped shaking from anticipation, was to purse my lips and say, 'hmmmmmm.' The draw meant that the next round would be Bath City vs Mansfield Town or Bath City vs FGR. Which is better? I couldn't decide. Fortunately it was not up to me. Thanks to a stoppage time goal Tuesday night, we will now will play our Gloucestershire neighbours.

Forest Green Rovers play one league above Bath City in what is known as the Conference National. That is still 'non-league' football, so it is not the glamour fixture City fans had been hoping for. Still, if City could beat the 23rd placed team in League 2 in the first round, then they should be able square up against the 21st placed team from a league lower down. A win would see City through to the Third Round, which is when the Premiership teams enter the competition. Might City be playing at Old Trafford in the new year? Before that dream can even be contemplated, though, there is the matter of City's second round opponents. And who are these guys, anyway? Ten years ago I would have probably assumed 'Forest Green Rovers' was some sort of Canadian law-enforcement unit. After a decade after living within thirty miles of their ground, and I'm not sure I know much more than that.

My only encounter with anything FGR since moving to England was on a Sunday morning six years ago. I was trying to take the train to work, but due to some engineering works the train between Bath Spa and Bristol Temple Meads was replaced by a coach service. I don't' know why or how, but the coach I boarded that morning for my commute was the Forest Green Rovers players coach. The rail company must have hired the coach company that provided FGR's away travel. The seats were not in a standard coach formation - they were in groups of four facing each other around tables. My overriding memory of that coach, though, was how tatty it was. The seats were covered in '70s style brown velure that looked like it had actually been in place since the '70s. The tables the players must have played cards on during their travels had artificial wood laminate on top that had been worn until a series of lurid orange streaks ran across them. There was a nice, shiny FGR badge on the outside, but the inside of the coach was repulsive.

This was years before I became a non-league fan. Looking back on it I have two questions: (1) How in the world does a non-league club like Forest Green Rovers have its own coach with its own team badge on the side? (2) How could FGR go to the expense of having a designated team coach and not stump up a few hundred quid to recover the seats? It seemed a very odd thing for a football club to splurge on such an extravagant mode of transport and then use it to move their team around in squalor.

My re-acquaintance with Forest Green Rovers continues to turn up strange contradictions. FGR are an archetypal village club come good. They are located on the edge of the Gloucestershire village of Nailsworth (population 6,600). This means that FGR should have roughly the same economic clout as Willand Rovers, the club City met in the Second Qualifying Round (who play three leagues below City). For a club from such a small community to have broken into a the Conference National is nothing short of incredible. It's an accomplishment that the people of Goucestershire can point to with pride.

It is, however, an accomplishment with an explanation. For nearly twenty years Rovers have benefited from an ambitious and well funded chairman, Trevor Horsley. After joining the club in 1992, when it was facing closure from financial difficulties, he has almost single-handedly brought the club the success it enjoys today. As Forest Green's website unashamedly says:

The future looks bright and it is all down to the driving ambition and vision of one man, Trevor Horsley.

You can't blame FGR for benefiting from a successful and generous chairman. It would also be wrong to assume that the club's success is just a matter of money. An awful lot of hard work has gone into back-to-back promotions in the late nineties and a new stadium this decade. Just throwing money at a club won't achieve that. Still....

I can't help but find the club Trevor Horsley has built with his driving ambition and vision slightly unnerving. Everything seems too nice and too clean. For a 'villiage club,' everything is very corporate. The website is very slick and very 'official.' Pictures of the ground, 'the New Lawn,' show squeaky-clean, state-of-the-art stands that look like they just came out of the packing crate (and if I was a betting man I'd bet the coach has been refurbished, too). The online fan forum is very polite, but very quiet. Combine all of this with the personality-cult language about the chairman, and the club sounds more like it should be named the 'Hermit Kingdom Rovers.'

In order to find out just what FGR are all about, and why I find them so strange, I decided to do what passes for investigative journalism on this blog. I registered for their forum myself (which creepily requires you to tell them your real name, address and contact telephone number!) and ask them, 'What are you all like?'

So far the most revealing answer is from a fan who calls himself 'tomb.' When explaining what FGR fans are like he said:

One of the benefits of being a village side (albeit with a new stadium) is that we are incredibly civilised. That's partly because the average age of our supporters is about 70. If we cause any trouble, you don't need to worry as we soon fall off our zimmer frames. Seriously, we are so nice, we are famous for it. Usually, after half time at home games, we announce how many away supporters are in the ground. We then CLAP them. Its surreal. I've never seen it anywhere else.

After reading this I can't help but imagine that the New Lawn feels like an annex to a retirement home. A retirement home with driving ambition, of course.

Retirement homes are nice enough places to pass the day, I suppose, although it is not my favourite sort of place. Still, it sounds like the Forrest Green fans are nice and respectable people. I'm sure we'll all have a good day out on 28 November. And, let's be honest, FGR aren't going to be any more excited by the fixture than we are. The thing that makes the fixture exciting is not the game itself, but the chance to be in the hat for the next round.

Come on City!

The Agony, the Rain, the Worry, and a little bit of Ecstasy

There are times in the life of the average non-league fan when he wonders if he is really and truly sane. I had such a moment Saturday as I watched Bath City defeat Chelmsford City 1-0. I was standing on the Bristol End terrace at Twerton Park in pelting rain and howling wind. I was cold and wet and tired. Next to me was my seven-year-old son (known for purposes of this blog as Big Nedved Junior) who must have also been cold and wet and tired. We were watching Bath City frantically try to keep Chelmsford at bay for half an hour with only ten men. Bath City defender Matt Coupe had been given a straight red at the hour mark for a studs-up tackle. With the man advantage, the stiff wind at their backs, and a Bath City team sitting back to defend their slender one goal advantage, Chelmsford kept up near-relentless pressure on the Bath End goal. Big Nedved Junior and I stood at the Bristol End, watching our heroes struggle in the distance, desperately hoping they would break free to score in front of us. It was not possible to really follow what was happening from that far away. It was only later that I learned that a shot from Chelmsford's Danny Hockton had struck one goal post, only for the rebound to be struck against the other post by Hockton's teammate Anthony Cook. From our distance we could only see a mass of bodies throwing themselves at the ball. We stood in the rain and waited for the inevitable-seeming bad news, and counted the minutes (literally) until we could stop worrying. After half and hour we were allowed to stop worrying and go somewhere dry and warm. Basically, I had paid £10 to stand in the rain with my son and chew my nails for half an hour. I had done this because this is what I consider 'fun.'

The entire afternoon had not been taken up with rain-soaked stress, however. Big Nedved Junior and I had arrived early at the ground to take in a meal at the club bar, 'Charlie's.' After pies, sausages and chips in front of a football match on a big-screen telly, we walked down the Twerton High street. We were looking for some 'Match Attax' cards to enhance Big Nedved Junior's playground cred. We failed to find any, but we did end up in the Co-op at the same time as my son's favourite player, Gethin Jones. We both felt too shy to talk to him so we loitered around the dairy products until he had left. Although we returned to Twerton Park empty handed, we soon had something even better...

Bath City Players Cards!! Thanks to a fantastic initiative by the Supporters Club, Big Nedved Junior could now collect cards of his non-league heroes alongside the Premiership primadonnas he is increasingly besotted with. We bought two packs, each containing three cards, for 50p each. I had worried our first packs would give us doubles of Marcus Browning, but it turned out we only got one of him (in away kit). In addition to Browning we got cards for Matt Coupe, Sido Jombati, Mark Badman, Richard Evans, and Kaid Mohamed. It was a good haul, we thought. To keep them dry Big Nedved Junior stored them in a special plastic pouch he had brought expressly for this purpose.

Not long after we were settled in the Popular Side terrace I was wishing he had brought a plastic pouch big enough for us to put ourselves in. The wind was whipping around enough that it was hard to find anywhere under cover that was truly dry. Once the match kicked off that wind began to play a pretty prominent role in the play on the pitch as well.

Bath City had been fortunate to win the toss and attack the Bath End of the ground. The wind blew fiercely but erratically. Anytime the ball cleared ten feet or so off the ground it was impossible to know which direction it would take. You almost had to pity Chelmsford keeper Craig Holloway, who is not the best of kickers in good conditions, as goal kick after goal kick failed to clear the halfway line. Neither team was able to do much more than hang around and hope for a lucky break from the wind. Thankfully the strength of the wind meant that Bath City got to do most of their hanging around in the Chelmsford half.

Chelmsford did manage some frightening runs at the Bath City goal on the occasional break. It was actually a Bath City counterattack, though, that brought the goal we had all been waiting for. Stuart Douglas received a neat pass from Sido Jombati close enough to onside to keep the linesman's flag down. With two Chelmsford players at his side and Holloway charging from the goal line, I thought Douglas had left it too late. He began to fall from what looked like a side tackle. It was a mistake I had seen Douglas commit before - taking one too many touches before trying to shoot. Somehow, though, while appearing to be totally off balance, Douglas managed to chip the ball over the Chelmsford keeper. It rolled gently into the corner of the net. I screamed and jumped up and down and silently promised never to doubt Stuart Douglas again!

This all happened with fifteen minutes to go before the half. Considering how poor the conditions were, and how Bath City would be playing against the wind in the next period, it seemed likely to me that a 1-0 victory was the only likely scoreline that would be good news. Kaid Mohamed almost proved me wrong a few minutes later with an excellent, on-target strike from outside the box. Despite this, and a couple close calls in the second half, most of the rest of the match was made up of midfield tackles and pressure on the Bath City goal.

And so my son and I stood on the exposed steps of the Bristol end terrace, forlornly hoping our heroes would score a second goal and deliver us from the worry. After Matt Coupe's sending off I called out the remaining minutes as they passed. I think this only made them pass more slowly. From our far-away vantage, every Chelmsford pass appeared to cross the mouth of the goal or need clearing off the line by a Bath City defender. It was a race between the clock and bad news. Which one would come first? Eventually the referee blew his whistle. I let out a cheer that was as much a sigh of relief as a cry of victory. As we scuttled back to the warmth of the car I wondered how many new grey hairs I had gained.

By any rational viewpoint, it was a miserable day. People only endure such discomfort for love from insanity. For football fans, especially for non-league football fans, I think it is a mixture of both. Despite the cold, the rain, the tension and the broken play, it was all worth it for the joy of seeing Douglas' goal and the relief I felt upon hearing the final whistle.

Now, time to plan our next match!

Staines Massive Impassive

Bath City drew 1-1 with Staines Town Tuesday night. Pretty much everyone says it was a forgettable match. This is hardly surprising given that both clubs had just defeated League 2 opposition three days previously in hard-fought FA Cup matches. Staines had been victorious 1-0 over Shrewsbury Town. Likewise, Bath City had come out on top 2-0 over Grimsby Town in THE GREATEST FOOTBALL GAME EVER PLAYED ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD!

Well, I thought so, anyway.

I was pretty shattered after the Grimsby match. I was so excited the night before I hardly slept. Match day itself consisted of a five-hour coach trip in the morning, three hours of constant singing, shouting and clapping in the afternoon, and another five-hour coach trip home in the evening. I got home too wired on adrenaline and disbelief to sleep properly for two days. A league match against Staines? I had trouble remembering it was happening, let alone get excited about it. I can only imagine how the players were feeling!

Actually, I don't have to imagine. The first half of the Staines match was a good indication. Manager Adie Britton chose to keep the same lineup that had been victorious in Grimsby (excepting the addition of Stuart Douglas to replace the injured Darren Edwards). A team of heroes, no doubt, but they must have been a team of tired heroes. Staines, sporting five new faces from their weekend, managed to keep City pinned back for most of the half. Apart from a near miss from a little bit of Chris-Holland-set-piece-header magic, City's only accomplishment in the first forty-five minutes was not conceding a goal.

Maybe Adie gave them a good talk at half-time. City returned to the pitch with more determination and more possession. This was rewarded at sixty-five minutes by a goal from Kaid Mohamed. Not much of a goal, mind you. It resulted from a scramble in front of the goal instead of a connected series of passes. Still, it was a goal and City had a lead that would have seemed improbable in the first half. I read about it in front of the computer, half wishing I was there and half wishing the game had been postponed until later in the season. I still wanted to savour the victory in Grimsby.

Eleven minutes later Staines equalised. Sido Jombati gave away a free kick in a prime spot. Andre Scarlett took the kick for Staines and managed to thread it through the City wall. I felt annoyed when I got the news through on the computer. Annoyed? Since when do I merely feel annoyed when City concede a goal? A goal that could have secured league three points?!

There is an argument that cup runs are dangerous. Players will be so distracted by their cup success that they will stop focusing on their league performance. I've never given this idea much credence, but I will admit that at least I have been distracted by the cup run. I have no business being annoyed! It's time for some more mental preparation because I am determined to at least be disgusted or gutted the next time City concede. Honestly!

Mike Perrott and Florin Pelecaci were brought on in the closing minutes but failed to find the goal to put City ahead. If anyone doubted the cup run was responsible for the tepid performance, Britton put them straight in a recent interview with the Bath Chronicle:

We did not get the response we were looking for at Staines and that is unusual with this group of players. To be fair, to have a 600-mile round trip at the weekend, then go into work on Monday before travelling to London and back on Tuesday is very demanding on part-time players. I have never been in this situation before and neither have a few of the players. Whether we can keep them focused or not I am not sure, but I know I will be totally focused.

It's hard to feel too disappointed with the result, however. I'm sure going into the match both teams would have been happy with a draw. City preserved their unbeaten run, and despite a sub-par performance, preserved that rare and indefinable thing known as momentum as well.

About the time the real hard-core fans were arriving back in Bath on the supporters coach I was tucked up in bed waiting for sleep. I had already forgotten about the Staines match. I was fondly recalling Chris Holland's header against Grimsby. Give me a few more days.