Nedved's Notes

In the Belly of the Beastleigh - Part 2

2010-03-18T22:51:00.011Z

In the Belly of the Beastleigh - Part 1 can be read here.

One of the nice things that has happened wtih the emergence of the new, extremely vocal Bath City supporters group ('the Legion') is that I don't get nearly as worked up as I used to in the minutes before the match begins. Instead of brooding about what a loss or draw would do to City's promotions prospects I'm usually distracted by how the flags are going up, or what new song we are going to try today. Before I know it the match has usually kicked off and I've joined in an off-key rendition of We Love Jim Rollo. I'm struggling to decide if this means I have matured as a football supporter, or suddenly become more juvenile. Perhaps both.

The match did in fact kick off before I knew it, and in fact the Legion did sing a decidedly off-tune rendition of We Love Jim Rollo. And we kept singing after that and did not stop for a good twenty minutes or so. Despite being at home, the Eastleigh fans were entirely quiet during this period. The bucolic setting of Eastleigh's ground (the surrounding motorways are not visible), and the genteel deportment of the Eastleigh fans made the tuneless shouting we were doing seem really out of place. It felt like we a band of drunken louts who had crashed someone's suburban garden party. Six months previously we might have felt too embarrassed to continue. As we have grown larger, though, the Legion has found it easier to do as we please when we are visiting teams with quiet fans. Basically, get enough of your mates together and it is possible to summon the nerve to crash any suburban garden party.

For the first ten minutes of the match the Legion's singing was just about the only notable thing on view. As they had against Thurrock and Welling previously, however, City followed a period of relative stalemate with thirty-five minutes of sustained pressure. This was fantastic to watch. Last year on my first visit to Silverlake Stadium I had watched City get out-muscled by an Eastleigh team that relied on height and....okay, mostly just height. City had battled bravely, but were never really in the game. Watching City stretch Eastleigh's defence with a passing game that made good use of width was just what I had hoped for.

To be honest, though, I couldn't see it terribly well. As an experiment the Legion had decided to chose a single place on the ground and stay there for the entirety of the match. This was the M27 side. In the first half this turned out to be the goal that City was defending. This gave us a chance to cheer on the ever-improving City keeper, Ryan Robinson, but it meant we were a long way from the goalmouth action at the other end. It also meant that we were eventually joined, after fifteen minutes or so, by a small band of Eastleigh fans who had come to stand behind the goal their team was attacking. They didn't make much noise (although, to give credit where it is due, they made more than the rest of the Eastleigh supporters combined), but they did engage in a bit of banter with us. When we sang of Silverlake Stadium the old classic My Garden Shed is Bigger Than This, a man stood next to me shouted, 'Yeah, yeah, we hear that every week!' From whom, I wondered. And if you do get it every week, surely you've come up with some sort of witty response? Something like, 'Your garden shed is way too big! Your garden shed is way too big! Save your money for a decent striker! Your garden shed is way too big!' There, that took five minutes, and can be sang to the same tune. Oh, but then you'd have to sing. Oh well.

City took the lead at the half hour mark with a penalty. Adam Connolly launched a corner kick into the penalty area, and Darren Edwards had his shirt pulled by an Eastleigh player as he went for the ball. This brought howls of protests from the Eastleigh players and management. So much so that the offender, Luke Wilkinson, was given an additional yellow card. To be fair to Eastleigh, you don't see penalties given for shirt-pulling much. Technically it is grounds for a foul, though, and referees are supposed to award penalties for fouls in the box. So, unsure of whether this was luck or a rare instance of justice, we watched from the opposite end as Kaid Mohamed lined up the kick. He struck the ball hard into the bottom right corner and City had a one goal lead.

This goal gave me the warm sensation that everything was going to plan. This was the thrid match in a row that after an indifferent start City had rallied and exerted increasing pressure, resulting in a first half goal. Second place in the standings appeared to be on offer.

Ten minutes later things began to deviate from the script slightly. A scuffle broke out on the pitch after an incident involving Sido Jombati and Eastleigh's Shaun McAuley. These incidents do not happen spontaneously - someone has to make the first move. Unfazed by this logic, however, the referee (Alex Neil) took the failsafe option and booked both players. These events are not uncommon in football, but the body posture of the players indicated that this fracas was more acrimonious than most. Word got round the ground (via the Eastleigh supporters) that Sido had spat on someone. Having met Sido and spoken to him several times, that seemed highly unlikely. He is perhaps the gentlest, most unassuming footballer I've ever encountered. Whatever the truth of the matter, things were still heated as the players entered the tunnel at half time.

The break was observed in total silence by the Eastleigh faithful. Like Welling, there was no music, or anything else to disturb the rural calm. I decided to pass a few minutes reading through the matchday program. It was when I happened upon the 'honours list' page that I began to understand Eastleigh FC finally. Nestled in at the bottom of the first team honours was listed, 'Wessex League Champions 2003.' Wessex League? I didn't even know what that was. I've since looked it up, and this is step five of the non-league pyramid. That's three divisions below Easleigh's current position. This means that as little as five years ago Eastleigh were at the same level as Willand Rovers, City's Western League opposition from the second qualifying round of the FA Cup. I had been thinking of Eastleigh as a club with few supporters, a funny location, and an out-of-proportion grandstand. They are in fact a small club that has done extremely well to get where they are (especially when you consider how close they were to promotion last season). Compared to most step five grounds, Silverlake Stadium is a palace. I began to feel somewhat curlish, especially considering how Bath City are a club that has probably underacheived for the last two decades.

When the second half resumed the Legion were already in place behind City's attacking goal. This gave us the chance to get acquainted with Eastleigh's new keeper, Billy Lumley. As soon as he took his position in front of the net it was obvious why he had been signed. Considering how highly the Eastleigh coaching staff appear to value height, Lumley's 6 foot 5 inch stature probably got him a job before they even watched him play. Unfortunately, as we were to learn, he was also reasonably good at goalkeeping.

On the hour mark City appeared certain to take the lead. Adam Connolly's free kick was headed goalwards by City defender Chris Holland. Usually contact with 'Dutch's' forehead is enough to secure a goal, but it was struck with too much downward force to go in. Instead the ball fell to Darren Edwards who struck the ball sharply from short range. Lumley blocked it, but the ball went back towards Edwards. You'd think that letting the ball rebound to a striker in position would mean allowing a goal, but Lumley somehow recovered and blocked Edwards a second time.

Shortly after this, the City defence allowed its first goal in over 330 minutes of play. It came as a bit of a shock, to be honest. Clean sheets had begun to seem pretty routine. It resulted from a pass travelling the length of the goal before being struck by Eastleigh's Ross Bottomley. Ryan Robinson had to allow a goal at some point, I suppose. It didn't feel too depressing, though, because City clearly had the ability to fight back.

Things change quickly in football, though. Before that goal the City supporters had been hoping for another 'routine' victory. Fifteen minutes later and we were desperate for City just to hang onto the point. Jombati, already on a yellow, got booked again after a strong challenge outside the penalty box. It didn't look like a particularly vicious tackle to me - Sido tends to wrap his long legs around his opponents rather than come in full force. The Eastleigh supporters were roused enough by this second booking, and the subsequent sending off, to actually make a bit of noise. They were that angry!

Despite City being a man down, Eastleigh never looked like they were going to score again. Unfortunately, City didn't much either (although substitute Dave Gilroy managed a decent shot towards the end). When the final whistle blew I wasn't sure whether to be pleased that a draw had been salvaged, or disappointed that a dominant position in the first half had been squandered. The City players wandered in our direction and clapped us for our singing. After packing up our flags, it was time to head homewards.

Like several other City supporters, the prospect of finding my way back to Southampton Airport Parkway station was daunting. I found another fellow train traveller and asked him if he knew the way. 'No, I took a taxi,' he said. I confessed I did the same. The warren of roundabouts and dual-carriageways was too tricky to try anything but the same on the way back, but finding a taxi was going to be much harder in this direction. Facing the inevitable, we asked a safety-yellow clad steward for directions.

'I'll drive you,' he said. 'I'm headed that way. It's no bother.'

We didn't know what to say. Dressed in black and white stripes, we were obviously supporters of the opposition.

'We're all football supporters, aren't we?' he explained. He was so nice, and so matter-of-fact about it, we accepted his offer.

Mr. Sheridan, I learned, had become a club steward and all-around volunteer after he retired. He tuned in a local radio station that reported non-league football scores, and chatted away about how Eastleigh had nearly won promotion the previous season, their terrible run of injuries, and about the problems they had with the pitch's drainage system. After the necessarily circuitous journey he dropped us off in front of the station and wished us well for the rest of the season. 'Maybe we'll meet up again in the playoffs,' he said.

Non-league football is supposed to be full of heart-warming moments like this, but we couldn't help but be surprised by Mr. Sheridan's generosity. I can't remember the last time I asked a complete stranger for directions and ended up getting into their car. It is a testimony to the non-league game, though, that he felt comfortable enough to offer to drive us, and we felt comfortable enough to take up his offer.

As we waved Mr. Sheridan goodbye, I couldn't help but think that his kindness was going to ruin my blog post. Eastleigh are a club that I've always disliked. How can you dislike a club where this sort of thing happens? Where's a pantomime villain when you need one? Oh, okay Eastleigh! As long as you are not playing City, I hope the rest of the season goes well for you. And if we do meet in the playoffs, well, that wouldn't be so bad. Just don't win them.

In the Belly of the Beastleigh - Part 1

2010-03-16T00:37:00.001Z

Bath City drew 1-1 at Eastleigh (or 'Beastleigh' as everyone in non-league football appears to call them) on Saturday. On many counts, it was a frustrating draw. It did, though, keep City in the vital playoff zone in the standings. Considering that Eastleigh defeated City at Twerton Park earlier in the year, getting a point on the away leg isn't too bad a result I suppose. Eh!

Like many journeys, my trip to Eastleigh's football ground on Saturday began when I consulted a map. Getting to the general area was easy enough - the train times to Southampton Airport Parkway rail station were convenient and straightforward. It was the quarter-mile journey from the train station to the ground that was worrying me. The key to the problem can be found in the station's name. Anyone at all familiar with Britain soon learns that any station ending with the word 'parkway' is best avoided at all costs. In my decade of experience I have made the following observations about these stations: (1) they are always windswept (2) they are always surrounded by roundabouts, dual-carriageway 'A' roads, and motorways (3) other than the roundabouts, dual-carriage 'A' roads, and motorways there is very little else of any interest. You might think that Southampton Airport Parkway station is an exception on this last count, thanks to the presence of the airport and Eastleigh's football ground. You would be wrong. The airport only serves short, regional destinations. The football ground could easily be confused for an industrial business park. Clutching the map I had printed off the Internet, and with a strong wind blowing in my face and the roar of the zooming traffic in my ear, I emerged from the station's front door and.....got into a taxi. I was in no mood to traipse around on the labyrinthine, pedestrian-unfriendly highways and risk missing kick-off.

Eastleigh's ground is actually called 'Silverlake Stadium.' There is no lake, actually. It is a rare example of non-league corporate naming rights sponsorship, provided by Silverlake Garage Autoparts (We are able to supply almost any part for any vehicle!!). Nevertheless, the name is still somewhat descriptive. Much of the ground is made up of grey corrugated metal, which, at a stretch, could pass for silver. Kind of.

The first thing you notice upon entering the ground is the imposing Grand Stand. If this stand was extended and wrapped around the entire pitch then Silverlake Stadium would be an impressive structure indeed. Its 341 seats are pitched at an invitingly steep angle, and probably give an excellent view of the match. It does not continue around, though, and the Grand Stand looks out of place among the relatively spartan facilities on the rest of the ground. The result looks as if someone sliced up a league ground like a cake, and left a section standing in the middle of a cow pasture.

I'm not going to spend this whole blog post slating Eastleigh's ground. I realise how hard it is for any club to build a new ground these days, and the Eastleigh supporters I met were incredibly kind and gracious to me. So, I don't mean this in a personal or vicious way when I say that I found their ground decidedly odd. I couldn't escape the sensation that I was actually in an airport container-unit storage facility. It was therefore with mild surprise when I saw players appear on the pitch and prepare for a football match to kick off.

Oh, wait! Did someone say 'pitch?' Eastleigh's pitch was in atrocious state. I found out after the match that this was due to excessive rainfall overwhelming the drainage system. Part of the subterranean layer of gravel was washed into, and now blocks the drainage pipes. This has resulted in several boggy patches, liberally dosed by the hosts with layers of sand. According to the match program the pitch was recently responsible not only for two Eastleigh players getting injured, but also for allowing St Albans City to score in a tight 1-0 victory the previous week. Yikes!

Despite these hazards, the players from both teams managed to line up on the pitch and shake hands with each other without anyone falling over. After the coin toss, City ended up defending the goal on the M27 end (okay, I actually made that up. I can't find any reference to the names of the various parts of the ground other than the Grand Stand, and only a small field separates the goal from the M27). This was the end that the City ultras group, known as 'the Legion,' had set up camp. We had turned out in number for the match, and received a big thumbs up from City keeper Ryan Robinson as he approached us.

Actually, it wasn't just 'the Legion' that had shown up in force. An estimated 150 fellow City fans had shown up. Since very few had opted for the Grand Stand, we made up roughly half of the spectators standing along the pitch. It was a very good showing, and this only further encouraged the Legionnaires behind the 27 goal. As the players were lining up for kick-off we belted out a very loud rendition of 'We Love Jim Rollo!' When this was met with virtual silence from the home fans, we realised that no matter what happened on the pitch, the City fans were going to have some fun!

Firebrand Nedved

2010-03-14T22:42:00.005Z

After the Welling match I stayed in the area to visit some of Mrs Nedveds's relatives in Kent. On the way back home on the train the next day I decided to try and write a letter to the Bath Chronicle to encourage more Bathonians to turn out to City matches.

I was feeling pretty pumped up after the Welling victory. I was feeling really pumped up, actually. And, deep down, I've always secretly regretted the fact that I'm unlikely to ever start a revolution. Perhaps it came out just a bit over-the-top.

The Chronicle did print it a week later than I had intended, but they did make it the week's main letter. They also took the opportunity to reprint a photo of Eric Cantona wearing a City scarf from his visit to Twerton Park last July. Underneath the photo was the caption, 'If it's good enough for Eric...:our writers below urge local people to get behind Bath City Football Club.' It was signed by myself and two other members of 'the Legion' (it may represent the thoughts of many more of us, but there wasn't time to get more people's consent).

Here is the letter in full:

Citizens of Bath, there is greatness among us!

A group of men, heroes to many, are on the verge of triumph. And you have the opportunity, and the privilege, to cheer them on.

We speak not of the pampered prima donnas, who prance across our wide-screened tellies, but of real flesh and blood men.

Men who work and toil through a five-day week as we ordinary people do, and yet find the will to trample the muddy playing fields of southern England, week in and week out, in search of their meagre portion of glory.

We tell you, despite all the obstacles and hardships they have faced, they are succeeding.

We speak, of course, of the players and coaches of Bath City Football Club. Racked by injury, and shorn of the budget their competitors enjoy, they nevertheless are playing with a drive and determination that is inspirational to behold.

The recent victory over Welling United brought them, for the first time this campaign, to a play-off position and with only four home matches of this glorious season left they need all the support they can get.

Last Saturday, the battle continued at Twerton Park with a key victory against fellow play-off contenders Thurrock. Our next vital home game is against fellow promotion chasers Braintree on Saturday, March 20. Come and join us and cheer the city boys to victory!

They are YOUR team. They play for YOUR city.

Join us as we celebrate their success!

So, if you are reading this, and you live somewhere in the West Country, get down to Twerton Park this Saturday for City's match against Braintree Town. We need you there!

An Encounter at Clacket Lane

2010-03-12T21:40:00.012Z

Saturday's coach journey to Welling included a fifteen minute stop at Clacket Lane services on the M25. As the coach pulled into the car park I noticed that we were pulling in alongside another coach with the exact same livery. It took a moment for the penny to drop, but eventually it did. My deduction was confirmed by the exclamation of a fellow passenger: 'It's the players' coach!'

And so it was. I tried to peer through the windows to see if I recognized anyone, but I could see only shadows through the two sets of tinted glass. Although my immediate reaction to this chance encounter was a mixture of delight and excitement, by the time I was alighting from the coach and preparing to share roadside facilities with my sporting heroes, I was feeling acutely awkward.

The reason for this is not easy to explain. It goes to the heart of the relationship between fans and players - a relationship that everyone is aware of but no one talks about much. Back in the days before I developed a passion for non-league football I thought I understood it. I was wrong.

As a kid growing up in Atlanta in the 80s, my heroes were the players of the Atlanta Braves baseball team. In the hundreds of games I attended over the years I never had a conversation with any of them. The idea that this would even be possible would have sounds absurd to me. The closest I ever came was on the rare occasion when I managed to elbow past other fans, and with outstretched arms, clutching a pen and something they could write on I would say, 'Will you sign this please?' I still have ever hat, baseball and scrap of paper those players graced with their signatures. They are like holy relics.

Twenty years later I find myself in a equally passionate relationship with Bath City Football Club, but with a level of intimacy I am constantly surprised by. I first became aware that things were different a bit over a year ago at an evening match at Eastleigh. At the conclusion of the pre-match warm-up Matt Coupe walked over to where I was standing and began to lean against the fence to stretch his legs. He then began engaging in the entirely normal activity of chatting to the person nearby him. Or he tried, rather. I was too tongue-tied to say anything remotely intelligent. At one point he stretched out his hand and said, 'Hi, I'm Matt.' I wanted to simultaneously laugh and pinch myself. 'Yes, yes, I know!' I said.

I've had several conversations with the players since then. I'm always nervous to the point of making an idiot of myself, of course. I am, however, always struck by how normal the players seem. I should not really be surprised. They all have careers outside football and lead otherwise normal lives with mortgages and crowded commuter trains like the rest of us.

In fact, the City players seem so normal when I talk to them I always become conscious of how abnormal I am. Non-league football fans are part of a fairly small subculture. The more dedicated ones of us are viewed by society at large as only a few grades up from Trekkies and plane spotters. We do, after all, spend our Saturdays on coaches making 300 mile round trips to stand in the cold with a few hundred fellow-abnormals and cheer on teams most people are unaware even exist. If you are lucky then your loved-ones will laugh it off as an amusing eccentricity.

I can't help but wonder, though, if they were not non-league footballers, would City's players be giving up their Saturdays to travel to places like Bishop's Stortford or Thurrock? Would they be travelling, like, me in a replica kit, clutching banners and a packed lunch? I don't mean to question their loyalty. I just get the feeling that they are a lot cooler than the die hard element of their support. It is the sort of thing you become aware of when you see a player in the bar after a match wearing a smart shirt and tie, or a dapper earth tone ensemble, and you are wearing a garish black and white striped shirt with matching hat and scarf.

And so I entered Clackett Lane services with some trepidation. The first thing I saw was City's manager Adie Britton reclining on a coin operated massaging chair, smiling and laughing with a couple players. I kind of wanted to walk up and share in the joke, but I couldn't for the life of me think of what to say to a football manager while he received a mechanical massage. 'Great for getting rid of those pre-match nerves, huh Adie?' or, 'Bet you'd love to have one of these chairs back at Twerton Park?' Adie is a nice man and I didn't think he deserved to be bored to death before leading the team into an important contest.

Further on, the rest of the players stood in a circle outside of WH Smith's. I felt like the awkward girl at the school dance as I headed in their direction: simultaneously hoping to be recognized and to pass by unnoticed. I skirted round them cautiously, self-consciously clad head to toe in Bath City merchandise, and headed for the crisps rack. I employed a forced nod and half-smile when I made eye-contact.

As I stood queueing for the checkout I realised there was another layer of awkwardness I hadn't given much though to before. A couple places ahead of me in the queue stood Marcus Browning. The veteran City midfielder has been the subject of a considerable amount of criticism from supporters this season. I consider myself lucky that this season I haven't had many occasions to write anything critical about City players, but Browning is an exception. I didn't hold back when I described his theatrics that led to a straight red card against Hampton back in September. Would he have read it? Would he know who I am? It seemed highly unlikely, but I couldn't help but feel a little bit guilty as he stood only a few feet away. He is not some sort of unapproachable Premiership star. He is a normal guy like me in the queue at Smith's. Who am I to take him to task on a public website that could be ready by anyone? What if his mother read it?

As we passed each other at the exit Browning gave me the same awkward nod-and-smile combo I had given the other players a few minutes earlier. I felt a small wave of guilt and carried on. I walked past that same group of players and tried to pretend we were all just fellow travellers stopping at a motorway services (admittedly, though I blew it when I stopped to take their picture).

Back in the safety of the supporters coach I began to relax again. For the rest of the day there would be reassuring boundaries between me and my heroes. There might be an embrace after a goal celebration, but even then there would be a wall separating us. I shuddered, though, when I though about what it would be like to come across the players like that on the return drive after a dispiriting defeat. Or what if I had gone into the men's room and found myself standing at a urinal next to Chris Holland? Would it be possible to wee while standing next to Chris Holland? It made what I had just gone through seem tame in comparison.

The surprising thing I've had to face since becoming a Bath City supporter is that I want a bit of distance between me and the players I adore. It is surprising to me because during an entire childhood of worshiping athletes from afar, I always assumed that it would be much better to worship them from short range. The reality, though, is that it can be a bit embarrassing (and maybe a bit creepy for the players). The obvious solution is not to diefy the players, but just to treat them like the normal people that they are. I can't help but wonder, though, if that wouldn't take all the fun out of it.

As I write this I wonder if this awkwardness I feel is maybe just unique to me. Perhaps I have just brought hang-ups with me from following large American sports teams. If I had grown up being much closer to the people I pay to watch would this whole non-league experience seem normal now? Maybe. There is in fact one player I have had contact with who has been so relaxed, and so unassuming, I can't help but wonder if the awkwardness I sense is just something I've made up.

I am speaking of the Bath City captain, Jim Rollo. I contacted him on Facebook once (as I do with players from time to time to clarify points for this blog, and always with great caution). He sent me a very helpful reply. He then, much to my surprise, requested to be my 'friend'. Also, perhaps uniquely in the history of sports, he has signed up as a member of the Bath City supporters group known as 'the Legion.' He sends us encouraging messages when he thinks we've done a good job cheering the team on. When we send out group invitations on Facebook to find out which of us is going to which match, we always find that Jim Rollo has confirmed that he will be attending (and to be fair, he does attend every match). It is really an incident that happened offline, though, that I think is most telling. It is perhaps my favourite ever Bath City moment, even though I wasn't even present to witness it.

City were drawn against League Two club Grimsby Town in the first round proper of the FA Cup this season. As this was a visit by a non-league club to a league ground, it was possibly the most important match many of City's players will play in their entire careers. City's program editor, Mark Stillman, also acts as one of the club's photographers, and he managed to secure a media pass to patrol the sidelines during the match. It was an especially big day for Mark, because besides watching his beloved Bath City try to force an upset against league opposition, it was also his birthday.

A few minutes after City took the lead in the first half off of a Chris Holland header, the ball was struck into the crowd by a Grimsby player. Mark got ahold of the ball, and Rollo came towards him gesturing that he wanted it to take the throw. As he did this he said, 'yes Mark, Happy Birthday.' Rollo threw the ball in, and then resumed playing the match of his life.

This is the type of story that makes non-league football so appealing. Of course, this appeal relies on exactly the sort of encounter between fans and player that is potentially so uncomfortable. Personally, I've decided I'm going to have to get used to it. I want to spend my Saturdays cheering normal, genuine people instead of Premiership prima donnas. If that means that occasionally I end up feeling like a dork when I speak to some of them, so be it. I will, however, draw the line at taking a wee while standing next to Chris Holland. That would just be taking things too far.

The Thugs with Laundry Issues Go Down

2010-03-12T00:07:00.014Z

Bath City defeated Thurrock 1-0 at Twerton Park Saturday. Despite the rather tame sounding scoreline, it was a momentous victory for City. I will get to why it was so important in a moment. Before then I will pause to take a few digs at Thurrock. It is too tempting to resist.

Thurrock are a relatively recently formed football club, having entered the already crowded London-area football scene in 1985. Here are some other things that happened in 1985: Ian Wright made his League debut with Crystal Palace. Ryan Giggs singed for the Manchester United youth program. Jim Rollo (Bath City's captain) celebrated his ninth birthday. Considering that most of City's opponents were founded in the obscurity of the 19th century, Thurrock is a relative tot in comparison. There is nothing wrong with this, of course. Two very prominent non-league clubs have recent foundings: AFC Wimbledon and FC United. These clubs were formed in response to a groundswell of local support, though. Were any local fans annimated at the prospect of Thurrock's appearance in 1985? Was there an army of potential non-league fans left unsatisfied by local clubs Grays Athletic, Hornchurch or Eton Manor? Oh wait, there was also
View Larger Map Dartford and Gravesend & Northfleet just across the Thames. Oh, and of course East Thurrock United! How could I forget East Thurrock United? So, upon its forming Thurrock FC was able to draw upon the vast army of non-league football fans from the eastern London suburbs not already loyal to Grays Athletic, Hornchurch, Eton Manor, Dartford, Gravesend & Northfleet OR East Thurrock United. How many supporters was that?

It turns out to be not many. But don't worry, the fans that Thurrock has attracted since the year Angie and Dirty Den opened the Queen Vic (1985!) are a plucky bunch. Let's have a look at a rare thread from the Official Thurrock Football Club Forum about the upcoming match against Bath City:

Tony Flood, the Thurrock FC press officer wrote:

'Who else is making the journey to the wonderful city of Bath this weekend?! Hopefully as many of you as possible will be there to sing your lungs out!!'

A respondent known as 'BUM' replied:

'Should be a decent turnout by the sounds of it, there are 11 people going that I know of so far. They'll probably have segregation at this rate.'

That just about sums up Thurrock. In the end there were in fact twelve of them. Not counting club officials. And they did sing their lungs out. Kind of made you think that if all of the non-league fans from that part of the Thames estuary weren't split among a dozen rivals, they could make up a pretty amazing club together. Oh well.

Okay, I'll admit there is something childish about making fun of Thurrock. It is mean-spirited, I suppose, to taunt such an open target. Kind of like making fun of the fat kid, or Weston-super-Mare. I'd better talk about the match.

There is a chap named Jeremy I gossip with before most home matches. He is a level-headed sort of fellow who is able to say something full of football wisdom in almost any situation. As I chatted to him on Saturday Jeremy was of the opinion that a draw against Thurrock would be a very good result for City. As usual, it was hard to fault his logic.

Despite Thurrock only being spared relegation last season because of the financial collapse of Team Bath, they have been near the top of the table for most of this campaign. They were coming to Twerton Park having been defeated only once in their last eight matches. The previous match had been an 8-2 shellacking of fellow playoff hopefuls, Eastleigh. Of course, City were entering the match with an eight game unbeaten streak themselves. This seemed reassuring, until you remembered that City's last defeat was nine matches ago when they lost 3-1 to.....Thurrock.

So, it was with a healthy dose of trepidation that I watched the teams emerge from the tunnel and engage in the pre-game formalities. The City players we had cheered at the end of the Welling match seven days previously had seemed invincible. Now, as I watched them line up against another club, I couldn't help but fret about how fragile their playoff hopes were. This inability to think rationally during matches is why I've never been tempted to pursue a career in football management (that, and the fact that I really don't know much about football compared to the average English twelve-year-old).

Perhaps because of my relative ignorance of the intricacies of football strategy, I often focus on the trivialities that surround the game. As the match kicked off I was intrigued by Thurrock's uniforms. Rather than wearing the club's traditional colours of green and gold (which would have provided ample contrast with City's black and white stripes) they were sporting their away kit of claret and blue. I couldn't remember seeing a club using claret and blue for a 'change kit' before. Perhaps they were hoping to draw a few errant supporters from their Premiership neighbours West Ham? Then I noticed that the Blue Square South league patches on their shirts were in fact white squares (the square patches should have been, fairly obviously, blue). This is a club that should switch to non-biological washing powder, I thought. Or maybe these uniforms were actually knock-off West Ham kits bought from an East End market trader that the club had then altered? But that doesn't explain the faded Blue Square South patch, I realised. West Ham shirts, even counterfeit ones, wouldn't have had those. No, it must be the washing powder...

I was woken from my contemplation by a powerful shot by City striker Kaid Mohamed. I had been paying attention, actually. My mind, or one section of it, had only been allowed to wander a bit because the muscular City midfield once again appeared perfectly capable of cutting off any opposition attack. I stayed pretty focused after Mohamed's shot, though. City were playing like they might score any minute.

Three minutes later, in fact, Lewis Hogg had an almost unmissable shot in front of an open goal. Mark Badman made a fantastic pass to the unmarked Hogg as he rushed into the six yard box. Unfortunately, I had to call the shot 'almost unmissable' for a reason. Hogg missed. It was his first match back after a suspension, though. And he is normally a totally reliable player. Along with the rest of the crowd, I quickly forgave him.

More action was to follow, although this time it was nothing to do with goals. Not content with a desperate lack of supporters, a lack of footballing history, and a regretful choice of washing powder, the Thurrock players decided to give the City supporters some additional reasons to despise them. With spikes showing, Thurrock's Rob Swaine launched a vicious tackle on City's Adam Connolly near the Thurrock bench. Both benches emptied and several scuffles nearly started as Connolly received medical treatment. We all held our breath. Eventually Connolly was able to get up, and he rejoined the match moments later. Match referee Lee Collins decided the fairest outcome would be to give a yellow card to players on both teams. That'll show 'em!

Except it didn't. Thurrock continued to behave like thugs throughout the match. With time, they also managed some spectacular diving screams as well. Yellow cards continued to be handed out by Collins throughout the match, although he was meticulous in making sure no Thurrock player go more than one.

The fates soon made up for the justice Mr. Collins was unwilling to disperse, however, when Rob Swaine helped to gift City the goal that won the match. A long, looping clearance from Chris Holland landed with a high bounce between Swaine and City striker Darren Edwards. City's other striker, Kaid Mohamed, was on the wrong side of the Thurrock defensive line when the ball was struck, so he ran non-chalantly away from the goal to avoid an offside call. Swaine, misinterpreting Mohamed's position as offside, stopped his run and raised his arm, indicating that he was expecting the referee to blow his whistle. All this did, though, was allow Edwards a free run at the goal. The two remaining defenders, who had not been influenced by Swaine's gaffe, were too far away to bring any meaningful pressure on the City striker. Edwards scored, the crowd went wild, and the gods of football were appeased. Thurrock manager, Hakan Hayrettin, moaned a lot after the match about how Mohamed had actually been offside. If I follow his logic correctly, he seemed to think that when Mohamed had been running away from the ball he had actually been making an attempt to get to the ball, just very, very badly.

For the second match in a row City entered the interval with a 1-0 lead over an in-form team. There were a lot of parallels with the Welling match, in fact, by the end of the day. In both matches City made good teams look completely ordinary. In both matches City controlled the game so effectively they really should have scored more goals. In both matches City keeper Ryan Robinson kept a clean sheet (and this time thanks to an excellent reflex save at sixty-eight minutes). In both matches Hector Mackie and David Gilroy made cameo appearances in the closing minutes that made you wonder how such gifted players weren't making the starting lineup. The only real difference was that against Welling the combo of Mackie and Gilroy got a goal. Against Thurrock they came desperately close.

And there was one more similarity. When the final whistle blew both the City players and supporters celebrated with pure joy. Although the victory had in the end seemed a bit routine, we all knew it was a real accomplishment. City's appearance towards the top of the table was not a flash in the pan. They had seen off yet another fellow-contender. The run for a playoff spot was for real. City is a team with no one to fear, everything to play for, and nice crisp colours on their uniforms. Bring on Eastleigh!

Ee-ai-ee-ai-ee-ai-oh, Up the Conference South We Go! Part 2

2010-03-04T23:37:00.014Z

You can read Part 1 of this article here.

By the time all of the Bath City fans had resettled themselves behind the High Street Goal the match had already been underway for a couple minutes. There wasn't room for our gigantic white ensign, but the rest of the flags were hung as visibly as possible and we got down to the serious business of cheering the team on. We began with 'We are the Bath,' and 'We Love You City.' There was no response from the Welling supporters. It looked like we had the ground to ourselves, at least as far as noisemaking goes.

Things were not so one-sided on the pitch. Neither team looked very dangerous in the first twenty minutes. As it often the case, City's strong midfield was able to hold the oppostion at bay, but this was not resulting in many goal-scoring opportunities. I find in these sorts of matches I get kind of comfortable, but it is the sort of comfortable that makes me very uneasy when I realise I'm getting comfortable (I suspect if you are a football fan that makes sense. If you are not a football fan you probably think I need therapy. And you are probably right).

There was one worrying thing for City fans in the opening stages, though, and that was Mark Badman. It took several of us, including me, several minutes to realise the player getting onto the ref's naughty list was Mark Badman. His newly-shaven head made him very hard to recognize. I heard more than one supporter say, 'Who's the new guy?' But it wasn't a questionable choice in grooming that concerned me (I am no one to cast stones), but rather the attention he was getting from the official. He got an early yellow, and a few minutes later, in the presence of captain Jim Rollo, he appeared to get a 'final warning.' It would have been a disaster if he got sent off, so he was going to have to play cautiously for as long as he remained on the pitch. The concerning thing, and one of the reasons he is so popular with the fans, is that it is almost impossible to imagine Badman playing cautiously. Fortunately he did managed to go the rest of the match without another card (much to the frustration of the handful of vocal Welling supporters).

Despite our worries about Badman, City's attack became more and more threatening as the half progressed. Welling keeper Charlie Mitten was given several opportunities to show his skills. He was forced to block shots from both Darren Edwards and Kaid Mohamed. An objective observer would have probably surmised that City was on the verge of taking the lead, but I am no objective observer. I found Mitten's stops extremely frustrating. I could only see squandered chances and half chances, which City might not get again. I suppose it is hard to see the full picture when you are cheering yourself hoarse on the goal line.

As it turns out, cheering myself hoarse on the goal line made it hard to even see the picture right in front of me. Adie Harris found Mohamed wide on the right. I was standing on the fence between Mohamed and the net. Seeing that his angle was too tight to take a shot, I turned away from Mohamed to my right towards the goal, expecting to see a cross come into the six-yard box. Then, in my peripheral vision, I saw the ball come from my left, skirt along the ground, and go just far enough to the left to avoid Mitten's outstretched hands (but not so far left as to go wide of the post). I didn't understand what had happened at first, but eventually I realised that the angle was not too tight for Kaid Mohamed. It was a superb goal, and once I finished scratching my head I joined in the riotous goal celebration that was happening along the fence.

Halftime arrived and found the hundred or so Bath City supporters in fine mood. No one thought a single goal lead was sufficient, but it had been encouraging to see how well Welling United's attack had been contained. Needing to prepare for the second half, the Legion packed up and headed back to the 'far goal' side.

Halfway around the pitch, as we walked in front of the Erith stand, I was struck by a very strange sensation. The oddness of Park View Road felt even odder, but I was struggling to identify it. Then I realised what the problem was: total silence. There was no music coming of the sound system, no hustle-and-bustle-of crowds, no banter among groups of supporters. The smattering of Welling supporters seated in the Erith stand were sat quietly with their hands folded in their laps. Any noise the City supporters made was met with total silence. I would not have been totally surprised if a librarian had marched up to us, put a finger on her lips, and said, 'Shhhhhh!'

The major challenge that the Legion faced during the interval was how to hang our white ensign. It was too large to drape from the fence that skirted the pitch. The corrugated fence behind us did not offer anything to loop the ties through. Or so we thought, until one ingenious legionairre climbed up on top of it and somehow managed to fasten the flag in place. This took several minutes, and I wondered if any Welling club officials would come and try and stop us. To their credit they left us alone, although it may have just been due to a reluctance to disrupt the dreamy silence of the halftime interval.

The second half began, and much to our delight, City began where they had left off: threatening the Welling goal. Much more apparent to me this half was how valuable Adam Connolly was to City's efforts. He has a blistering shot from twenty yards or so (as Weymouth had learned the previous week), but he must be a very frustrating player to defend against even when he isn't shooting. He manages to completely control the top of the penalty box by, as far as I can tell, being everywhere at once. Or so it seems to me, anyway. He nearly had more dead-ball success as well, when two of his kicks reached the normally-lethal forehead of Chris Holland.

At about an hour into the match Welling finally began to rouse themselves back into a half-decent attack. They did in fact manage to hit the crossbar on a couple of occasions. I began to get worried because City appeared to be sitting very deep. Although before the match every City fan I spoke to said they would be happy with a draw, after an hour of watching City run Welling ragged we all felt differently. We would now all be crushed if City came away with less than three points. Crushed, I say, but not surprised. Football is notoriously unpredictable. The only predicable thing is that you will regularly get your heart broken.

Except not this time! Rather than just sit back and try to soak up the pressure for the last half hour, City still kept attacking when given the opportunity. For a split second it looked like City had succeeded with an attack: Adam Connolly's free kick bounced around for a bit before landing right in front of Darren Edwards a yard from the goal line. Under pressure, Edwards headed it forcefully, but it struck the post. This was only feet away from where we stood behind the goal. I don't think any of the City fans felt the disappointment any less than Edwards did.

Speaking of the City fans, the second half of the match was an important performance for us as well. Although we had been vocal throughout the first half, we sang almost without a pausing after the interval. Unlike most behind-the-goal terraces, the 'far end' goal at Park View Road is raised above the pitch. Standing all together in a group, shouting almost from on top of the Welling keeper, it felt like we were calling the City players forward into the goal. And I am sure with our flags waving and our non-stop chanting we probably annoyed the heck out of the somulent Welling supporters. Oh well.

In the closing minutes of the match Adie Britton made two substitutions. On came the newly signed Hector 'Yellow Shoes' Mackie, and the new loanee Dave Gilroy. Last season when Gilroy was a signed City player he was sometimes accused of complacency. Whether that was fair or not, you could not say that about him now. He strides around the pitch now like he is going to pop if he doesn't score a goal. In the closing moments of the match he earned a good reason not to pop for a while.

Welling won a corner and keeper Charlie Mitten decided to give up defending for a moment and have a go at scoring. Thankfully it came to nothing, but gave him a lot of acreage to cover when City cleared the ball. The ball was collected by a Welling defender, but Gilroy managed to pry it loose and pass the ball forward to Mackie.

Mackie now had the ball just over the halfway line, with only a quickly retreating keeper between him and the goal. It is one of those moments when you know your team should score, but as this is non-league football, you know it is far from guaranteed. Besides, Mitten had shown throughout the match that he is a cool-headed keeper who would not panic. And as Mackie was a new signing, no one really knew if he was a quality finisher or not. He wasn't billed as a striker, so it didn't seem like a sure thing. I thought to myself, as Mackie advance towards us, that at least this would take some time off the clock.

From just inside the penalty box Mackie executed a superb, unselfish cross past the flailing Mitten to Gilroy. Where had Gilroy come from? I had been too intent watching Mackie to notice him. He slotted the ball into the goal and made the whole thing look easy.

Forty-five minutes of cheering in hope consumated into thirty seconds of wild screaming in celebration. For the first time we broke into our new song:

Ee-ai-ee-ai-ee-ai-oh,
Up the Conference South we go!
When we get promoted,
This is what we'll sing,
We are City! We are City!
Britton is our king!

Sure, it's a variation of a song league supporters sing all the time, but for us, working out the lyrics of a song in advance and then singing it all together at the right time was a real accomplishment. The Legion are getting more and more organised.

The match ended moments later. We stayed in place until we had sung our new song several more times, and until we had had a chance to show our appreciation to the team. As it turned out, they came out onto the field to show their appreciation to us. Led by Adie Britton they all came out onto the pitch and clapped us until they reached the edge of the penalty box (and then they wisely stopped - we were all in a bit of a frenzy!).

Welling, who had been on an eight match unbeaten run beforehand, had been made to look ordinary. City's victory would surely, for the first time, lift the team into the playoff spots (third place as it turned out). It was also City's first victory at Park View Road since promotion to the Blue Square South two seasons previously. There were so many things to be excited about, it was hard to realise that we had to go home now.

Ee-ai-ee-ai-ee-ai-oh, Up the Conference South We Go! - Part 1

2010-03-02T23:09:00.002Z

Bath City defeated Welling United 2-0 Saturday. It was a brilliant, and very important win for City. I have a feeling I'm going to struggle to write about it without gushing a lot. I apologise in advance. If any of my readers, especially the ones that are not Bath City supporters, bail out before they get to the end I understand.

But it was soooooo amazing! Really. Bear with me.

There were two big themes that made the day at Welling so special. One was that City finally cracked the top five in the league standings for the first time in two years. Considering that Saturday's victory was the eighth unbeaten match in a row, it seems to have taken forever for this to happen. That it did happen on a tough (so it seemed beforehand) away match is further testimony of just how much grit and determination Adie Britton's team have.

The other development that came to the fore was the emergence of the 'ultras' group of Bath City supporters. In a way this was nothing new, as it is a movement that has been gathering momentum for some time. The Welling match was perhaps our best performance yet, though, and there is a sense that we are getting loud enough, and organised enough, that we are beginning to have an impact on the matches themselves. There is now a formal name for the group, 'the Legion (after the inconsistently used club nickname, 'the Romans').' There is a logo. There are active discussions about how to develop our activities on a Facebook group. And, most excitingly, the Legion is becoming more and more inclusive as it becomes more prominent. Rather than it being a name for a rabble-rousing minority, almost every City fan I speak to seems to consider themselves to some degree part of the movement. Seeing how Bath City is known for having friendly and active supporters, this spirit of inclusiveness is not just desirable: it is appropriate. Way to go!

Heavily laden with flags, the Bath City supporters coach dropped several dozen of us off on Park View Road right in front of Welling's ground (which is unsurprisingly called 'Park View Road'). As there was nearly an hour and a half before kick-off, and (this is England) we headed for the pub. The lucky beneficiary of our custom was the Guy Earl of Warwick, mostly because it was very close by. Inside we found a couple Legionaires who had arrived by train, a handful of red-shirted Welling supporters, and (this being England) a German broadcast of the Chelsea v. Manchester City match on the overhead telly. We ordered our drinks and got down to the serious business of wasting an hour and a half doing hardly anything productive or memorable. We did take out our flags for a practice wave in the pub garden.

Once Manchester City had safely dispatched Terry & Co (much to the delight of the locals) it was time to head into the ground. This would be my first ever visit to Welling United's home ground, and I wanted some time to soak up the atmosphere.

Or I thought I did. I couldn't put my finger on the reason why at the time, but Park View Road just felt wrong to me. I feel bad saying this, because on paper it looked to be a very nice place to watch football. It benefits from a very old-fashioned location right on the main high street. Impressively, it has two 'main' stands (this is due to Welling's unusual ground sharing arrangement with Erith & Belvedere FC - each club has built and controls one side of the ground). There was a nice tea-bar, and old fashioned terraces on the ends. Everything was in place, but it still felt wrong. The best description I can give, I think, is to say it felt like a public park rather than a football ground. Perhaps it was the thick woods on the other side of the 'far end,' although that can't fully account for what I sensed. Somehow, though, Park View Lane is a ground that is less than the total of its parts.

But there wasn't time for such airy-fairy contemplation at the time. City had a football match to win, and the Legion had a lot of noise to make. At first we stood around in a rather purposeless way behind the 'High Street' goal. For reasons I did not understand, we then moved to the 'far end' goal. There we watched Lewis Hogg (suspended) and Dave Gilroy (on the bench) kick a ball around on one of the worst bit playing surface I've ever seen. If Park View Lane is like a public park, the area around this goal is the sandpit. It was laid on so thickly that City keeper Ryan Robinson might have been advised to use it to build a small wall in front of the goal mouth.

The City players came out onto the pitch to a great roar from the hundred or so travelling City supporters. The singing began immediately, with 'We Love Jim Rollo' (I hope Jim Rollo doesn't mind the line about him losing his hair, because he is going to hear this song a lot). We were still singing when the coin was tossed. City were selected to attack the goal on the other side of the pitch. This set off one of the most characteristic traditions in non-league football. Each side's supporters switched ends so that they could be on hand if their team scored. I don't mean the more sedate fans that had paid for seats along either side of the ground. I refer to the noisier supporters who had been standing in the terraces at each end. As we passed the Welling supporters along the narrow passage in front of the Erith stand I couldn't help but think how this would never be allowed at a League match. Let's hear it for non-league football!

Part 2 coming can be read here.

The Nedved Podcast: Tell Me About Your First Bath City Match...

2010-03-02T00:39:00.010Z

On Saturday's Supporters Club Coach trip to see Bath City take on Welling United, I recorded short interviews with thirteen volunteers. They told me about their earliest memories as a Bath City supporter. Here is the result.

I was hoping to cover a range of time periods, but I was flabbergasted to speak to two City supporters who first attended matches as school boys during World War II. It was an honour to speak to Cliff and Roy, neither of whom I had met before Saturday.

This is my first attempt at audio recording. Please accept my apologies for the inconsistency of the sound. If this is well received I may try again soon.

Tell Me About Your First Bath City Match by Nedved

PS I know this is not really a proper podcast, as you can't download it onto your MP3 player. I'm working on it, give me time!

Hard Times of Old England

2010-02-27T02:21:00.005Z

Two eventful moments in the history of English football happened to coincide on the same day today. Portsmouth FC entered administration (the first Premier League club to ever do this) and Chester City was ejected from the (non-league) Football Conference for various rules infractions rooted in serious financial problems. It is a tragedy for the supporters of both teams, who have innocently been paying their money to these clubs for years, only for the owners to.......

Sorry, I grew so bored with that opening paragraph I started yawning involuntarily.

I don't mean to be insensitive to the upset that Porstmouth and Chester supporters are no doubt feeling, but I just can't summon up the shock and outrage that other football commentators are today. There are two reasons for this.

One is that I read stories in the press about English clubs getting into financial problems with the same reaction my wife reads about Katie Price's life in the weekly glossies: it is titillating but stopped being surprising long ago. Today's events were unexpected only if you were a hermit or very, very forgetful. The only surprise to me is that it was the top bulletin in the news tonight.

The other reason is that as a non-league supporter I react to clubs going into administration, or being liquidated, the way a grizzled veteran sergeant reacts to a bullet cracking over his head. I've seen it too many times to get excited about it (and I've only been following non-league football for two years!). Last year the Conference South lost two clubs to financial problems (Fisher Athletic was wound up by the courts at the end of the season, and the unlamented Team Bath collapsed after swinging budget cuts by the University of Bath). This year newly demoted clubs Lewes and Weymouth have flirted with bankruptcy. Conference North side Farsley Celtic were wound up earlier this year, only to miraculously find the money to reopen their doors after only missing one match. Last year Bognor Regis Town may have set the record for the most calamitous season of all time last year by not only having a financial crisis, but also getting docked seven points for fielding an illegal player, having an arsonist burning down their clubhouse, going through three managers and fifty-four players, and, of course, relegation. When you get used to this sort of story it is hard to get excited about a simple case of administration.

In fact, if anything I feel sorry for the Portsmouth fans that their club only went into administration. There is a possibility that Portsmouth may shed its debt during the process, but not all of the people, like chief executive Peter Storrie, who were running the club as it spent itself into a big financial hole. Do Portsmouth supporters really want to pay their money at the turnstiles to fund the activities of the very same people who let them down the first time? How much better would it have been for the old club to be wound up, and a new, supporter-owned club to have risen from the ashes?

The brave supporters of Chester City have chosen the other path - effectively turfing the devil-they-know out on his ear. They will start a new club over the close season, starting near the bottom of the non-league pyramid. The only way this will succeed is if they all pull together and work very hard. This journey will lead them to new grounds of tiny clubs they are unfamiliar with, and possibly many years of frustration as they attempt to climb the slippery slope back into the Football League. How tragic? No. I say well done for accepting the challenge.

One thing I've learned this season in particular is that it is the supporters that make the club. Not the club itself, mind you, but the club as it is experienced. When the club is small, though, the lines between the supporters and the club itself are blurred. Tomorrow morning I will climb aboard a supporters coach headed for south-west London which will include the club program editor, the supporters club president, a director, and countless other volunteers who help keep the club ticking over. Being a supporter at this level is not just a matter of providing money as a customer. It often literally means supporting the club with your time, effort, and abilities. How much richer an experience is this than what any Premiership club fan will experience?

I know I shouldn't, but I struggle to find sympathy for Premiership fans who are up in arms about their club's finances. Go ahead and wear your green and gold, hold your protests, and moan about how the modern game is all about money. I wish you well (really). It is the non-league supporter, the ones that volunteer as program hawkers, operate turnstiles, spike the pitch on rainy days, and sweep the terraces on the days following matches that I will save my sympathy for. When their clubs go to the wall they don't face a points deduction, worry about relegation or suffer the indignity of playing in the Europa League. When their clubs are threatened they risk losing a bit of themselves. You see, in non-league football the game isn't all about money. Some day, if they are lucky, and their club is wound up, Premiership fans might get the chance to find this out for themselves.

Another Drum, Lava, and Three Precious Points

2010-02-23T00:29:00.016Z

Bath City defeated lowly Weymouth 2-0 on Saturday. It was not the one-sided goalfest City supporters had been hoping for. In fact, for a while it looked like there would be no goals scored at all by either team. Weymouth gambled on a 0-0 draw, hoping to take at least a single point home with them. They played a scrappy game, mostly with all eleven players behind the ball. I suppose City should take this as a sort of compliment, but it was a compliment that failed to make the match any more pleasant to watch.

Unaware of what a tense, frustrating spectacle I was in store for later on, I set out for Twerton Park about an hour earlier than necessary. I had the two Nedved Juniors with me, and they enjoy going into the club bar (Charlie's), getting a Coke, and watching the last part of whatever Premiership match is on Sky before City's 3 o'clock kickoff. Actually, Big Nedved Junior enjoys watching the Premiership match. Little Nedved Junior enjoys slurping the Coke to see how big a burp he can manage.

As we stood queueing, and waiting for our carbonated, caramel-coloured joy in bottles, I noticed that at the other end of the bar stood City player Lewis Hogg nursing a pint. Having been injured in a vicious tackle by Weston player Josh Klein-Davies, and suspended for a straight red card for the fracas that followed the tackle, Hogg would only be watching the afternoon's match from the stands. His absence was a blow for the City team, of which he is an integral part, but a boon for us. I had in my pocket Big Nedved Junior's Lewis Hogg trading card, and here was my chance to get it autographed (for Big Nedved Junior, of course). I approached him with a pen in my extended hand, and he duly obliged. We chatted briefly about his injury (prospects look good for him being back on the squad for the Thurrock match), and whether or not he would immediately rejoin the starting lineup (I expressed my absolute conviction that he would). Despite my best efforts, neither Nedved Junior would come into the line of sight of their hero, preferring the safety of standing behind my legs.

After profuse thankyous to Lewis Hogg, we found seats and watched Everton score their second and third goals to defeat Manchester United. And Little Nedved Junior managed some spectacular belches. We drank up and headed for the turnstiles.

The boys and I headed over to what has become our normal spot on the terraces - near the giant white ensign where the burgeoning Bath City 'Ultras' gather. Some of the most vocal singers were already present, and it looked like we would be able to create a good atmosphere in Twerton Park. After the Havant match, where there had not been very many of us, and the Dover match, when the Dover fans stood right next to us and banged drums in our faces, everyone was hoping for a relaxed but spirited afternoon.

And then, much to my astonishment, a rowdy band of Weymouth supporters wandered over and began setting out their flags right next to us. And, they had a drum. I couldn't believe it. The coin-toss had not even taken place yet, so there was no way the Weymouth fans were positioning themselves to watch the Weymouth attack (assuming that there would be one). Being American, and therefore mercifully free of most social inhibitions, I decided to approach one of the Weymouth supporters and ask him, 'Just what the heck do you think you are doing?'

Actually, I said it much less confrontationally. I guess I do have some social inhibitions after all. I asked why they had chosen, of all the places in the ground, to come and stand right next to the noisiest group of City supporters. He said that they had originally gathered at the Bath End goal, and that a steward had told them to move here. This made no sense. Either the steward was totally ignorant of the makeup of the City crowd, or the Weymouth supporter had completely misunderstood what he had been told. The manner of the Weymouth supporter, which appeared to have been augmented by several adult beverages on the train ride north, made me think it was the latter. There was no aggression in his unfocused expression, though. I tried explaining, as he stood tying Weymouth banners in front of City's most hardcore support, why this didn't seem like a good idea to me. He shrugged his shoulders, either in indifference or incomprehension, and continued setting out his blue and terracotta flags.

The Weymouth crowd were unruly, crude, and hostile. Well....sort of. They swore a blue streak throughout the match, and they took long sips from the cans of lager they had brought into the ground. They were, however, in all honesty, pretty good fun. Their club has been the laughing stock of non-league football for over a year, and their team is almost certain to face a second successive relegation. Their prospects for victory against Bath, or against anyone really, were low. And still they came, and still they were determined to be noisy and support 'the lads.' You had to admire them, even if you didn't want to get too close. Their single drum didn't even bother me so much.

And then came a moment, unexpectedly, when both sets of 'ultras' found something in common to support. As I wrote about previously, former Bath City manager Brian Godfrey passed away on 11 February. After leading City to the Southern League Championship in 1977 he left for Exeter City and then spent four years managing Weymouth. A minute's applause was held before kickoff to celebrate his life, and remember his time leading both clubs.Unexpectedly, someone behind me started up 'There's Only One Brian Godfrey!' This was immediately taken up by the Weymouth fans as well. And then it was sung again, and again by all of us until the ref blew the whistle for the game to start. It was remarkable not only for the unified display by rival supporters, but also because very few of the people singing would have been old enough to remember Brian Godfrey as a manager. Hardly any of the Bath City Ultras were even born before 1977. To me it was testimony to the strong sense of community that exists among football supporters - so much so that there appears to be a sort of communal memory. And, I'll admit, it brought a big lump to my throat.

The match kicked off to a terrific roar from the whole ground. A victory, which seemed likely at the outset, could potentially put City among the playoff spots. Weymouth had lost their previous match by six goals. Surely this was the moment with City finally crashed the top places in the table and took their rightful (so we think, anyway) place among the top teams in the league.

Except...the match didn't start like it was going end with a thumping victory for the men in stripes. Oh sure, City had the vast majority of possession. I would describe the Weymouth attach as 'toothless,' except there wasn't really an attack to describe at all. On the rare occasions when Weymouth did move the ball forward they did it as if they were just trying to buy time for their defensive line to have a breather and regroup. And yet, despite all of this, City failed miserably to make any significant attack on goal for the first twenty minutes. The Weymouth players crowded their penalty box like tourists outside the Pump Rooms in the city centre, reducing City to halting and unsuccessful attempts to dribble through to a good position. Crosses were ineffective as well. The City strike pair, Darren Edwards and Dave Gilroy, were constantly outnumbered whenever they tried to reach any incoming ball. A rare, but unsuccessful attack on goal by City captain Jim Rollo was the highlight of the first half for me. The Weymouth supporters, surprised to be approaching the interval without conceding, sang 'You Haven't Scored, You Must Be Sh**!'

A bit of good fortune appeared to have swung City's way in injury time, however. Gethin Jones earned a penalty, and Darren Edwards strode confidently forward, ball in hand, to try and give City the lead they needed so badly. Although Edwards has missed some important penalties this season, he is the fourth highest scorer in the league this season. Unfortunately, he missed this penalty too. Considering how few chances City had produced so far, it appeared to be a disaster. A sinking feeling that another draw was on the cards descended on me as I lined up for a cup of tea during the break.

Although I did not want to abandon my 'Ultras' comrades, the banter between the two sets of supporters had gotten pretty crude by the end of the first half (especially the singing by the Weymouth supporters). I decided it was time for me and the Nedved Juniors to move on, so we moved towards the Bath End as the second half kicked off. Being a bit quieter, this gave Little Nedved Junior the opportunity to ask me some questions. About lava. Little Nedved Junior is fascinated by natural disasters, and volcanos in particular. The post about the Woking match would have been twice as long if I had included all the questions he asked me about lava that day.

'Can lava go uphill?' he asked me in the first few minutes after play had resumed. As the second half began much the same as the first half, I decided talking about lava was as good a way to pass the time as anything else on offer. 'Can lava go through doors? If lava is coming towards you will it come so fast you can't run away? What would win: lava or a hurricane?'

I would have gladly continued our discussion of lava for the rest of the match, doubtlessly covering the respective merits of lightning, tornadoes, and earthquakes as well, if we had not then been joined by my friend Dave and his son. It was their first match (although they had tried unsuccessfully to attend the New Year's Day match against Weston-super-Mare before it was called off). I dreaded to think what Dave thought of the standard of play that Bath City had to offer.

Dave, it turned out, was having a great time. He loved how close you could get to the action (or lack of it) and how he was free to wander around wherever he wanted. This led Little Nedved Junior to start begging to go to the other side of the ground. I said no, I wanted to stay where we were, but that we could move if City scored.

I don't know why I wanted to make that particular bargain, but I might have to start doing it regularly. Up to this point there had been little hope City would score from open play. Within minutes of uttering those words, Adam Connolly finally got City a goal with a fantastic free kick from the edge of the penalty box. I had expected him to cross it to an unmarked Sekani Simpson, but seeing how fruitless crosses had been thus far I should have figured he would just go for it. It was a fantastic strike, and I had no regrets when I kept up my end of the bargain and we began to wander around the Bath end to the Main Stand.

This turned out to be an absolutely brilliant thing to do. Within a minute, City's new signing, Hector Mackie, made a fantastic cross to Darren Edwards. For once, Weymouth's defenders were AWOL, and Edwards was able to tap the ball past the startled keeper with ease. This happened just as we were passing behind the goal, so we stood only feet away as it happened. Now the City fans could celebrate a chance to crack the top five places in the standings, even if it wasn't on the back of the six goal victory we'd hoped for.

After continuing our walk, Dave and I settled against the wall in front of the Family Stand. Our three children played an impromptu version of hide-and-seek behind us. It had not been the best advertisement for non-league football, so Dave surprised me when he said he wanted to come to the Thurrock match in two weeks time. A bit of digging turned up the reason: the game may have lacked the flow and spark of a timeless classic, but it was still a good day out with his son. The atmosphere of historic Twerton Park, with it's old fashioned terraces and lively crowd was a great draw. Would Dave had been impressed in the same way a year ago, when Twerton Park's atmosphere had more in common with the Bath Public Library? It's hard to know for sure, but there is no doubt the flags and the singing encouraging the first-time fans to become second-time fans.

The final whistle sounded and we clapped the City Boys off the pitch. Struggling against weak teams has been an ongoing problem in recent seasons. Last year I had seen City lose when faced by a similar tactic against Aylesbury United. Likewise, City's playoff hopes had suffered a knock-out blow when the hapless Fisher Athletic stole a single goal against the run of play to win 1-0. A season later, struggling but winning 2-0, is a huge improvement. Because of the way the other league matches played out, City only moved up to sixth. A loss could have been another Fisher Athletic moment, though. The tough-fought victory gave City another chance to break into the playoffs against Welling United on Saturday. This time, it has to happen!

Havant & Whotheheckareyou?-ville, Part 2

2010-02-20T20:00:00.002Z

Part 1 of Havant & Whotheheckareyou?-ville can be read here.

We last left this story with Bath City's defence bravely trying to fend off a relentless Havant & Waterlooville attack. City had taken a 1-0 lead moments before, but up in the terraces there was a feeling that something was definitely wrong. No one had expected Havant to be a walkover, but being five points and five places below City, most City supporters expected them to be a average, fairly beatable team. There was nothing average about the Havant & Waterlooville team that had shown up, however. They attacked relentlessly. They shut down almost every foray City made into their territory. How City had managed to be the team first on the scoreboard was a total mystery. How Havant, who seemed to be able to alternate slick midfield passing with well-placed long balls, had managed to fall as low as thirteenth in the league table was equally mysterious.

As City were (in theory) attacking the Bath end goal on the other side of the pitch, the full-strength Ultras were in excellent position to see the full fury of the Havant attack. We were not in a very good position to see City almost double the lead at twenty-three minutes, again totally against the run of play. Gethin Jones managed to shake loose of the Havant midfield and head down the right of the pitch. His cross was headed by Darren Edwards, and we all screamed and shouted when we thought we saw the ball go into the net. The Havant keeper, Aaron Howe, had actually made a brilliant diving save that we could not see. This was disappointing, because rather than being a harbinger for a period of Bath City dominance, Havant returned to laying siege to the City goal within a few seconds. Although normally an optimist by nature, I couldn't see City maintaining the lead for much longer.

Oh, did I mention that Havant have a player named Joe McDonald who does a fairly good impression of Rory Delap from the sideline? Well they do. There were so many other facet's to Havant's attack that I did not notice how dangerous his throws were at first. I figured it out quickly, though, when he launched one into City's six yard box at the half hour mark. Unfortunately, it was not cleared properly. A mistimed header sent it looping up into the air . Annoyingly, the ball fell to earth in the vicinity of the fearsome Manny Williams. I should say 'fell towards earth,' actually, because Williams was able to strike the ball into the City net with a quick, compact bicycle kick before it got anywhere near the ground. At this point I was pretty sure there were going to be three to four more goals scored before the match ended. I wasn't feeling very confident that City would be scoring any of them.

Thankfully, halftime did come without any more goals conceded. I took a walk with my friend Mark round to the Snack Bar so he could get some chips. Unlike the cheerful, supporter run Tea Bar, the Snack Bar is run by an outside company. The food is passable, although expensive, but the customer service is of a vintage Soviet style. All that would really be necessary to complete the experience is someone standing alongside the queue with a truncheon. As we made our escape I almost bumped into a fellow customer, only to see that it was Lewis Hogg! LEWIS HOGG!!! In the queue for chips! Simultaneously suffering from an injury and serving a suspension had not robbed him of the desire to support his team mates. It was a heartening thing to see, although I feared that if he hung around the Snack Bar long he might be robbed of his desire to live.

Passing through the Bath End on our way back to the Popular Side, we passed by the lively gaggle of Havant supporters setting up shop for the second half. I stopped to chat with one who appeared to be a leader of some sort, and asked if I could take a picture of them for my blog (which they posed for very graciously). 'Are you Nedved?' he asked. I admitted I was, and we engaged in a discussion of the Dover supporters and their infamous drums. Although he had a better appreciation of their supporters' musical abilities than I did, he was generally about as keen on drumming at non-league football matches as I am. The Dover supporter's tactic of walking right up to you and drumming in your face doesn't make them many friends I suppose.

The second half began before long, and Havant immediately began to scare the living daylights out of me again. Twice in the first twenty minutes Robinson had to make spectacular saves to keep Manny Williams from scoring again. Things were not helped by the tendency of the City defenders, which grew as the game went on, to boot the ball forward to no one in particular. This was annoying for us fans to watch whenever a Havant attack was broken up. It may have been the most rational thing to do, though, considering how fruitless the City passing game had been for most of the match. I was sure that Williams had scored when he got a free header after Chris Holland failed to clear a corner kick. It looked like a sitter from where I was standing, but he somehow managed to head the ball wide to the left. Whew!

The one bright spot to the second half was the appearance with twenty minutes left of Bath City prodigal son, Dave Gilroy. He trotted out to replace Darren Edwards wearing his familiar black turtleneck. In a strange way it seemed a bit like he had never left. I am sure in his mind he was desperate to score a goal and snatch an undeserved victory for City. He did not do this, but he sure came close.

A Havant player passed the ball back to Aaron Howe on the far right of his goal. Gilroy was in the area, and his speed (always surprising for someone who could pass for a banker) caught Howe napping. With a twist and a jump, Gilroy blocked Howe's clearance with his backside, a la Andrejs Stolcers, and the ball looped tantalisingly towards the goal. Unlike Stolcers' wondergoal against Woking, though, the ball travelled slightly off target. Gilroy was after it like a flash, but even with his speed he was not able to get his foot around the ball.

This somewhat freaky chance at a goal was part of a more even final ten minutes of the match. Perhaps if football was played over two hours instead of ninety minutes City might have worn Havant down. When the final whistle blew I know I was not alone in feeling relieved that a point had been won (and no one could have seen this as two points dropped). Many questions filled my head. Is this a normal Havant & Waterlooville performance? If so, how the heck did they manage to lose so much ground in the standings during the middle of the season? After the match, several City supporters wrote on the forum that Havant had been the best team to play at Twerton Park all season. Were there enough games left for them to enter the already crowded play-off-chasing pack? At this point, it appears so. The good news is that, barring an appearance in the playoffs, City will not need to face them again. If there is a meeting in the playoffs, maybe this particular version of Havant & Waterlooville won't be the one to show up. One can only hope. Although City battled enough to keep from losing, they definitely left my nerves feeling ragged. Watching a match like that in the playoffs might kill me.

Drink Up Thy Zider!

2010-02-20T11:20:00.005Z

Last night while I was unsuccessfully trying to publish part 2 of my account of the Havant & Waterlooville match (the Internet connection died mysteriously in the middle - I'll have it out tonight), my fellow Bath City fans were at Twerton Park enjoying a concert by the famous West Country band, the Wurzels. This was a fundraiser put on by the club, and open to the public. As the Wurzels are well loved throughout the region over 200 people showed up.

Most people in England know the Wurzels for their song I've Got a Brand-New Combine Harvester, but Bath City fans have another song dear to their heart. At most matches we sing Drink Up Thy Zider (translation: drink your cider. I should point out to my American readers that cider in England is not fancy apple juice. It is not only alcoholic, it will have you rolling around under the table very quickly if you are not careful).

The reason we like Drink Up Thy Zider so much is that it is one of the songs we sing from the terraces when we are cheering the Bath City players on. Of course, we've adapted our own words to fit the occasion. They go like this:

Drink up thy zider, drink up thy zider,
For tonight we'll merry be,
We'll all go down to Yeovil, and do the bastards over,
The corn's half cut and so are we.

Or something like that. I've never actually gotten to the bottom of what the last line is. That's how it was written up in the Supporter's Song Book for the Grimsby match.

These aren't the original words as the Wurzels are not ancient enemies with Yoevil Town the way Bath City supporters are. Here is a clip of the end of last night's concert. If you listen carefully you can hear the Bath City supporters shouting out their own version of the lyrics.

Havant & Whotheheckareyou?-ville, Part 1

2010-02-16T23:11:00.014Z

Bath City and Havant & Waterlooville battled out a tough 1-1 draw last night at Twerton Park. I suppose that I should feel disappointed about this -- a victory would have finally pushed City up into the playoff spots. And a victory didn't seem too much to ask. After an strong start to the season, Havant had slid down to the nether regions of the Conference South table. Actually, once the match got underway, it became clear to everyone in the ground that even managing a single point was going to be tough.

I left work full of excitement. I had just read that all other Conference South matches had been postponed due to waterlogged pitches. This meant that a victory would guarantee City fourth place in the league standings. The teams in second through fifth play a two-round playoffs to see who gets the second promotion spot to the Conference National, and Adie Britton set a playoff appearance as the goal for this season. There are a lot of games left to play, but just finally getting into the right end of the table, however temporarily, would be a huge moral boost for players and fans alike. An outsider might have viewed the match as a rescheduled, mid-week fixture on a cold Tuesday night. I saw a chance for glory.

Dreaming about a 'chance for glory' is a lot of fun in the days leading up to a match. I also find the anticipation of an upcoming important fixture is extremely useful. I can sit through excruciatingly boring conference calls, argue patiently with suppliers who don't understand their own products, and smile beatifically in response to petty customer complaints when a big match is upcoming. It is like a shield that protects me from the drearier aspects of modern life. But then, in the minutes before the match kicks off - this match that I have been anticipating so keenly for days, any sense of pleasure from the experience deserts me and I begin to worry. I try not to let on to the people standing either side of me, but I usually find myself calculating just how awful I will feel if City lose. Yes, that's right. I pay £10 to stand in the cold of an evening and worry. I call this fun.

Last night I endured this transition from amiable pleasure to mild terror standing with about fifteen other 'Ultras' on the Bristol End side of the Popular Side, next to our enormous white ensign. Our ranks were somewhat depleted because of another match that was being shown on Sky (some former LA Galaxy player named David-something was doing some work experience to try and earn a spot on the England squad or something). The details of the televised match escape me, but it was enough of a media spectacle to reduce our numbers slightly, and reduce the overall match attendance to under 500. Things got worse for the Ultras when the coin-toss resulted in City attacking the Bath End. More than half of our number walked off to go stand behind the Bath End goal. This left a small rump of Ultras, no more than five in number. Despite some desperate shouts of, 'Hey, where do you think you're going!' they trotted off, oblivious to our desperate attempts to shame them into staying. Once they had left, the few of us remaining shifted awkwardly among our flags, unsure of what to do.

Now denuded of its noisiest element, the match kicked off in front of a relatively quiet crowd. To make things worse, Havant & Waterlooville unexpectedly put City on the defensive almost from the first kick. They had started the match in thirteenth place, but there was nothing about them that brought to mind the term 'mid-table.' The term that came into my mind, actually, was 'downright scary.' Most scary was their star striker, Manny Williams. He is reportedly one of the highest paid players in non-league football. His hairstyle, a dapper 'cornrows-style' braid, is certainly at least League-1 quality.

Back up in the terraces, I was struggling. Not only was I having to drastically readjust my expectations for the evening, but I was feeling embarrassed about our lack of singing as well. After all, I am supposed to be an 'Ultra.' It's supposed to be 'today, tomorrow, always,' not 'if enough of my mates are around so that I don't feel shy.' But shy I did feel. Several attempts to start up 'We are the Bath!' got inexplicably stuck in my throat. If I ever needed more proof that when it comes to terrace singing I am a follower and not a leader, this was it.

The leader we needed, taking a long drag on a fag as he rounded the Bristol End, appeared a few minutes later. Our unofficial chieftain, Paul, had gotten delayed and missed the beginning of the match. Suddenly, with his bolstering presence, the six of us turned into the hardy band of supporters we were meant to be. A typically expert save from City keeper Ryan Robinson gave us the inspiration for the first song of the night: 'Ryan Robinson, Ryan Robinson (which is sung very slowly and loudly to the tune of Daddy Cool)!'

This was just in the nick of time. Spurred on by the aggressive start by their team, the small band of travelling away Havant supporters began to put on a pretty decent performance to support their team. 'Come on Havant (which is just like Come on City, but with City instead of Havant)!' they chanted.

We retorted with, 'Come in a taxi, You must have come in a taxi!' This was fair enough, I think, because there really weren't that many Havant fans present. Certainly not as many as City usually take mid-week this side of London. Their response, though, was slightly better: 'Come on a skateboard, you must have come on a skateboard!' Considering that there were only six of us, huddled together, away from the main body of City supporters, this was fair enough. Where had the rest of our hearty band flitted off to?

Undeterred, we took up our first chorus of 'Oh When the Stripes Go Marching In,' and just as we got started, something amazing happened. Despite the hammering the City defence had been taking from Mr Williams and friends, Kaid Mohamed managed to break free and move the ball forward quickly. He got the ball to new signing Scott Bartlett, who crossed from the byline to reach the head of Darren Edwards in, what looked like to me, a very unpromising position. With the sort of wrenching movement that gives Chiropractors nightmares, and is as much down to sheer determination as skill, Edwards managed to force the ball into the net. It was so unexpected that at first I thought I had misunderstood what had happened. It was only when the players began to celebrate, and the ref pointed to the centre circle, that it sunk in. Despite being pinned back by one of the most aggressive openings I've seen from an opposition at Twerton Park, City had managed to take the lead at nine minutes. I was overjoyed.

But I was still worried. When play resumed, Havant's relentless attack resumed as well. Usually after an early goal I start feeling confident about a City victory, but this time my initial thoughts were much more conservative. I was thinking an early goal might help keep City from losing. So much for playing the thirteenth placed team!

And, in this instance, an early goal heralded the return of our errant Ultras. Perhaps it was our defiant singing, or maybe they felt they had seen the goalmouth action they had been hoping for. I didn't stop to ask any of them. I was just glad they were back. Encouraged by the one-goal lead, and now more or less at full strength, we sang for the first time 'Drink Up Thy Cider!'

It wasn't ideal, but given the circumstances I was happy to settle for 'Today, Tomorrow, and Once We Take an Unexpected Early Lead!'

Part 2 of Havant & Whotheheckareyou?-ville can be read here.

Grinding 'Em Out on the Way to Greatness.... (We Hope)!

2010-02-13T23:55:00.013Z

Bath City defeated Maidenhead United 2-1 Saturday in a scrappy and uninspiring away victory. Who cares if it was scrappy, though? We are now entering the final third of the season and as long as a match results in three points for City I don't ask questions.

Before I get to the match against Maidenhead, though (of which I will not be asking questions), I'd better recount some of the significant events that have happened off the pitch this week. The first to recount is, unfortunately, the sad news that former Bath City manager Brian Godfrey passed away on the morning of Thursday 11 February. Godfrey, a former Wales international and Aston Villa stalwart, was appointed manager of City in April 1977. As this was roughly three decades before my first visit to Twerton Park, I'm not best placed to do justice to the career of the man many consider to be City's finest ever manager. I will try to recount some of the highlights, though.

City's first two competitive matches of the 1977 season were a 0-3 aggregate defeat by Yoevil Town in the Southern League Cup - an inauspicious start for the new manager. After this, however, Godfrey led his team on an incredible twenty game unbeaten run in all competitions, ending finally with a FA Cup 1st Round replay at Plymouth Argyle. This was followed by a quick exit in the FA Trophy (1-7 to Cheltenham Town - ouch!). After this December 3rd defeat, City then went on an even more incredible thirty-five match unbeaten run, finally concluding with a 0-1 loss to Worcester City on 1 May. The only other loss that season was to Udinese in the Anglo-Italian Cup.

Udinese? What? That's right, under Godfrey's tenure Bath City competed in Europe.

Oh, and he also led City to the Southern League championship that 1977-78 season, of course. It is easy to underestimate what an accomplishment that is now. This was in the years before the Conference had been formed. There was no level higher than the Southern League in non-league football. Because of this City were thrown into the mix in the bizarre voting procedure used back then to determine which teams would be promoted, or allowed to remain, in the old Forth Division of the Football League. It was a close vote that year. With twenty-three votes, Bath City set the record for the most votes without being admitted to the league. Who made it? Some club called Wigan Athletic from the Northern League. Just think, with just a few more votes and a sugardaddy with a former sporting goods empire, Bath City could today be the worst-supported club in the Premier League. Gives me tingles just to think about it.

One of the downsides of non-league football is that anyone who sets the place alight when they arrive usually doesn't stick around for long (just ask Bath City's Bobby Zamora). Godfrey's inevitable departure had an ironic twist, though. Tony Book, former Bath City legend and then Manchester City manager, hired Malcolm Allison away from Plymouth Argyle. Someone named Bobby Saxon left Exeter City to take the Plymouth job. Godfrey got the nod for the Exeter post, and understandably took it in December of 1978. So, it's all Tony Book's fault, really. Thirty years later and Godfrey's tenure at City is still the high water mark in the club's history. Everyone, including those of us who were not around to enjoy his success, were sad to hear of his passing.

The other news at Twerton Park this week was more pleasant, although just as unexpected. Former Bath City striker, Dave Gilroy, signed with rivals Newport County at the end of last season. This appeared to be a good move for Gilroy at the time, but as he was just one of nearly two-hundred players signed this season by manager Dean Holdsworth (I exaggerate very slightly), he struggled to get a regular starting place. He has managed a respectable nine goals this campaign, but seven of these were while on loan to Weston-super-Mare. No one quite understands how or why, but Holdsworth and City manager Adie Britton agreed on an unusual six-week swap. Gilroy returns to Bath City, and the struggling, injury-plagued Stuart Douglas (with only only goal this season) will take his place on the Newport bench. City fans can't believe their luck. If ever there was a gift horse that you wanted to take a good, hard look at the mouth of, this would be it. It's too good an offer to question, though. I'll just put Adie Britton down as a genius and move on.

Because of the labyrinthine, and rather boring regulations that surround the various governing bodies of British football, City have to wait until the Havant & Waterlooville match for Gilroy's international clearance to come through (Newport County play in Wales). This meant that the City team that arrived at York Road included Douglas.

One of the first facts you learn about Maidenhead United is that York Road is the oldest continually used football ground in the world. In this modern world of corporate stadiums, this is something worth celebrating. Maidenhead have chosen to celebrate this with a recreation of a nineteenth century pitch - you know, the sort they used to play on back when passing was considered 'ungentlemanly.' Or perhaps it was just impossible. Whatever the reason, Maidenhead's pitch wasn't going to handle the Brazil-like passing game that City have developed over the last few months.

[I should point out that this is a blog written by a Bath City supporter, and if I want to compare City's passing game to Brazil I'm within my rights. Go start your own blog and compare your favourite team to who you like. Besides, City have played some amazing football this year! Really.]

Brian Godfrey's City team of 1977-78 may have only lost twice, but they did grind out a lot of 0-0 draws on the way to their title (seven to be exact). Adie Britton's team of 2010 also have the character to adjust their playing style to conditions. Pushing the ball forward quickly became the order of the day. Despite only managing a handful of half-chances in the first forty-three minutes, they kept Maidenhead to only one attempt in the same period. Did you notice I said forty-three minutes, though? City scored the brace of goals that would see them to victory between minutes forty-three and forty-five: a failed clearance that landed at Kaid Mohamed's feet, and a Darren Edwards header from a Adam Connolly corner kick.

You've probably tumbled to the fact that I didn't make it to the match by this point. This was a bit of a sore point, but I console myself with the fact that the match has been described as 'unremarkable' in more than one account. Rather than fill my blog with attempts to make the unremarkable events I did not witness sound interesting, I'll let you off the hook with a one sentence recap of the second half: City played defensively and allowed a worrying goal at sixty-two minutes, but fortunately not the equaliser. The debacle of the recent home match against Bishop's Stortford was not repeated.

The match may not have been the most exciting of the year, but City's improvement in the league table was enough to get my heart racing. Thanks to Woking's unexpected loss to Worcester City, and Eastleigh's even more unexpected draw to Weston-super-Mare (ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!), Bath City passed both of them, climbing to a dizzying seventh. Now only two points from a playoff spot, City are in prime position to move even farther up the table in Tuesday night's home match against Havant. With the club's strike force now augmented, City fans are imbibing that most dangerous of intoxicants: hope. As long as City win, there will be no hangover come Wednesday morning. And they must win. Brian Godfrey would want it that way.

What's That Coming Over the Hill?

2010-02-09T22:08:00.006Z

I spent most of the second half of Saturday's home match against Dover Athletic wandering around the ground with my son, Little Nedved Junior. He can handle staying put in the first half, but after that he needs a bit of distraction to keep from getting too bored. We ended up in front of the Family Stand, which is the corner of the pitch where the substitute players warm up before going into the game.

There were a couple kids clutching pens and sheets of A4 paper, trying to get autographs from anyone looking remotely like a player. Being asked for your autograph must be a nice ego-boost for the players. Unfortunately, these kids had a way of doing it that must have had the opposite effect.

'Who are you?' they asked one player, thrusting pen and paper towards a nearby player.

'That's Matt Coupe,' I said. I tried to say it with a tone that suggested that everyone should know the player known as the 'Beast of Twerton.' Well, I think everyone should.

'Is your name on the back of this?' they asked, pointing to their programs.

'Yeah, it's on there somewhere,' Coupe said, taking pen in hand. 'Just not as high up as it used to be.'

You could hear the frustration in Coupe's voice when he said this, even though he signed the crumpled sheets of paper cheerfully and with good grace. Up until October he had been a regular starter for Bath City. For good reason too. He is not only an excellent defender, but a source of inspiration for fans and fellow players. Coupe's presence on City's backline is almost tangible when he plays. He doesn't just shout out encouragement to his team mates; the will to win seems to seep out of every pore in his body. Even when he has an off-day, he can overcome opponents just by sheer bloody-mindedness. These qualities have understandably made him a fan favourite for many years, and also explain why he has made over 300 appearances in a City shirt.

And yet, for the last three months he has started matches on the bench more often than on the pitch. Although manager Adie Britton has often not had much choice when it comes to selecting goalkeepers or forwards, the competition for places in midfield and defence this season has been fierce. The quality of players that have appeared as substitutes, or been loaned to other clubs, has been remarkable.

As a City supporter I feel conflicted about this. It is great to have such a surplus of quality in at least two areas, but I hate seeing some of my favourites collecting splinters. Fortunately Coupe's warm-up was quickly followed by him going into the Dover match, taking Jim Rollo's captain armband as the players traded places.

A sign of Coupe's popularity is the fact that he is the only City player who has two songs sung from the terraces in his honour. The first, I Wish I was a Pornstar Like Matt Coupe (sung to the tune of She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain) was first aired at the Grimsby match. The more traditional song, though, is R.E.M.'s Monster.

Within a few minutes of arriving back on the pitch, it was evident that time with the subs had not dulled Coupe's desire to win. In a scrappy, battling match, Coupe scrapped and battled with a tenaciousness that was heartening to watch. The 'Ultras' on the Popular Side took up the old refrain, 'What's that comin' over the hill, is it a monster? Is it a monster?' This caused some consternation among the nearby Dover supporters, who do not appear to have the tradition of singing songs for individual players. Anyone who has taken the time to watch Coupe tear through an opposition attack, though, would readily spot the meaning of the song.

As Dover did take control of most of the end of the match, reinforcing City's backline with such a determined presence was obviously the right thing to do. I know I am not alone in hoping that we see Coupe more regularly. In sympathy with manager Adie Britton's dilemma, though, I'm not sure who should be dropped to make way. I suppose, on balance, that's the sort of decision a manager is wants to be presented with. All I can say is, it's a decision I am happy not to have to make.

Superbowl Tweet

2010-02-08T23:41:00.009Z

Yesterday was Superbowl Sunday back home. It's practically a national holiday now. When the coverage began here in the UK on the BBC I was still writing my blog post on the Bath City v Dover Athletic match. I managed to get the video to stream online so I could flick back and forth to it while I typed, but for play-by-play commentary I had BBC 5 Live Sports Extra on in the background. This was being done by Arlo White and Greg Brady. Anyone who listens to 5 Live sports will know who Arlo White's talents as a presenter. I'd never heard him do play-by-play commentary and I have to admit I was impressed. Anyone who listens to Colin Murray's Fighting Talk on Saturday mornings knows who Greg Brady is. He is almost single-handedly making it safe for North Americans to be taken seriously as sports fans in the UK. I suppose I should could have listened to an American broadcast, but they were both excellent and so I was happy with the BBC coverage. I sat typing away, hoping the New Orleans Saints could find a way to get a win past the favoured Indianapolis Colts.

By the time the Fourth Quarter had started I had decided that Saints kicker, Garrett Hartley was the most amazing distance field goal kicker ever. How he managed three kicks over forty yards with such accuracy, under such pressure, I'll never understand. Thinking of this, and how a certain Premiership team had failed to find anyone in their ranks who could do something similar earlier in the day, I sent Greg Brady a tweet with my thoughts. Here's what he read out a few minutes later:
(it may take a minute to load, but press the black 'play' button when it appears)

superbowltweet.mp3

I'll be contacting Greg later to see if he needs any new material for his next appearance on Fighting Talk.

Little-Minded Drummer Boys

2010-02-07T22:57:00.016Z

Bath City's match against Dover Athletic yesterday ended in a scoreless draw. It was not the prettiest display of football this year by City by any measure. You couldn't say it was a boring match - there were plenty of heart-in-mouth moments. And, if you were in need of more drama than was on display on the pitch, there was a fair amount in the terraces as well. Before I get into that, though, I'd better tell you a bit about my great-uncle Bill.

Uncle Bill fought in World War Two on the Italian front. Afterwards he settled down to raise a family. He made his living rearing sheep in the hills of South-West Virginia. He was, I'm sure, a fairly normal member of his generation during his prime.

But by the time I was old enough to know Uncle Bill his behaviour had gotten pretty odd. At a family reunion in New Westminster (population 58,000) he had removed the hubcaps from his car and had them laid out on the back seat when he drove up. He said coming to the 'big city' made him worried they'd get stolen. A few months later he showed up at my parents house for Thanksgiving. Much to my mother's shock he wore his clodhopper plowing shoes into her house (you'll have to trust me, this is a big no-no). He never removed them during the entire visit. We could ignore his shoes, but he did one thing we could not ignore, despite our best efforts. Every time there was a pause in the conversation Uncle Bill would break into a hymn. Very loudly. And not in tune. So, we'd be in the living room asking him politely about his sheep, or the price of wool, and as soon as we'd run out of questions he'd belt out, 'Bless Be The Tie That Binds,' or 'Onward Christian Soldiers.' There wasn't much you could do but wait for him to finish (usually just one verse). While he sang we did our best to pretend that this was normal and everthing was fine. It wasn't really fine: it started as awkward and moved onto annoying as the day wore on. Still, he was an old man who meant no harm. He had no idea how bizarre it seemed to everyone.

The supporters of Dover Athletic remind me a lot of my Uncle Bill. They probably mean well. They almost certainly think of themselves as very clever. In reality they were just being boorish and annoying, avoiding conflict only because of the decorum and forebearance of others (they are fellow non-league supporters after all). I suppose like an elderly relative, they deserved to be humoured during their visit. Politeness requires you to wait until they've left to sigh with relief (and have a laugh about them).

As Dover are newly promoted, they have not visited Twerton Park for many years. I missed the away fixture back in September, so I knew very little about the team or its supporters. About the only thing I knew was that their manager, Andy Hessenthaler, appears to revel in pig-ignorance about Dover's opposition. In a interview posted on the Dover site after the match in September he commented that City had obviously come with the intention of shutting up shop and playing a defensive game with eleven men behind the ball. Any casual City fan at the time, however, could have told you that City's injury crisis was so severe that manager Adie Britton could not even field eleven fit players. The starting lineup contained two midfielders playing as defenders (Lewis Hogg and Marcus Browning) and the debut of Florin Pelecaci (who no one had ever seen in a City shirt before). Adie Britton's only intention with his team selection was to be able to field a full compliment of players. If Hessenthaler had had access to even the most rudimentary scouting report he would have known this.

City fans were excited, if slightly anxious, before the match kicked off. Decisive victories over St Albans and Weston-super-Mare had brought City to within touching distance of a playoff spot. Dover were arriving in patchy form after their blistering start to the season. A win seemed possible, if far from likely. Would City finally break through the eighth-place barrier that has haunted them for the last two seasons?

The way the match started, it looked like breaking that barrier was going to be hard work. City's defence and midfield held their own, but had to resort to a scrappy style of play that was not typical in recent matches.

Something else that was going to be hard work made an appearance in the early minutes as well. The Dover supporters who gathered around the Bath End goal had brought drums. They began to play them with a relentless, unchanging rythym. I have only come across a drum once before in football, at Grimsby Town. This was a single, deep kettledrum-type that was usued occasionally to rally the support. Although the Dover fans included three drummers, and were carrying lighter, more versitile instruments, they lacked the musical ability to do anything else but a constant, dreary beat. It was kind of like listening to a leaking tap drip, except louder and less creative.

That was in the far distance, though, from where the City Ultras (including myself and Little Nedved Junior) were gathered beside our giant white ensign. As City were kicking towards the Bristol end, all the singers were gathered in one place and we were as loud as ever. With City Captain Jim Rollo's encouragement, we were determined to do our part to help lift the team.

I have my doubts, however, that anyone on the pitch was remotely aware of anything else than the furious pace of the match. This was not a match of ebb and flow. There was little chance for either team to create space or play with style. The ball seemed to get tied up in midfield for several minutes at a time in a sort of human pinball. In most matches this season City have been able to control midfield for long stretches. To me, it seemed after a frustrating start they gave up trying and began to settle for hoofing the ball forward. Both sides did have chances in the first half, although Dover had the best. Olly Shultz managed a powerful downward header on goal from a corner kick. City keeper Ryan Robinson was beaten, but Gethin Jones managed a dramatic clearance from the line. City's only real first-half chance was at thirty-five minutes. Kaid Mohamed broke through the Dover back line and had Darren Edwards free on his right for what appeared to be a sure-thing goal. His pass was slightly too far forward for Edwards to reach. It was frustrating to see the opportunity missed, but considering that neither striker is fully fit, it was a good effort.

At the interval I took Little Nedved Junior on our customary walk round the ground. On our way to the Bath End we passed the Dover supporters as they headed to the Bristol End. It is normal practice for non-league supporters to switch sides at halftime. This gives each group of fans the chance to watch their team from the goal it is attacking. A lot of City fans do this as well, although there are some in the newly-formed 'Bath City Ultras' who argue that it would be best for the most vocal supporters to stay in the same spot for the entirity of the match. The designated spot they like to congregate is next to the white ensign, which because of its size, can only hang on the Popular Side, towards the Bristol End.

As the second half kicked off I realised something very strange had happened. The drumming was back, but it was not coming from around the goal Dover was attacking, as it had previously. The drummers and some friends had decided to stand next to the City supporters near the flag. Because they were closer now I could hear that they were singing, but the City supporters were singing too. As you can imagine, it sounded like an unholy mess.

Josh, one of the City supporters who had remained by the flag, gave me his account of what happened:

Obviously the away fans had heard us singing and felt intimated or whatever that we might outsing them so they stood next to us. With their drums as well I think they were trying to drown us out. They came as close as they could to us. We weren't going to leave our spot with the flag there because you dont know what their plans were. They were standing next to us for a reason, but I'm not sure whether it was to provoke a reaction from us, or just to be annoying. Then they started having arguments with some of our lot. I thought it might have turned aggresive, but luckly it didn't.

This last point is important. The Dover supporter's actions were not physically agressive, but they were obnoxious in the extreme. At a lot of other grounds, with less restrained home supporters, and there would have been a fight. I was very proud watching my fellow Ultras stand their ground, engage in a bit of friendly banter, and generally give good account of themselves. I like to think that the City supporters were respecting the natural franternity that exists between fellow non-league supporters -- even if the Dover fans were intent on taking advantage of this good will. Like being trapped with a senile, eccentric old relative, sometimes the best thing to do is just endure it.

To be fair to the Dover fans, they did have more to sing about on the pitch than the City supporters. Although they were unable to manage an actual goal, Dover appeared to be on the verge of scoring for a long stretch of the second half. Or rather, I had a sinking feeling that City were going to allow one of those messy, half-accidental goals they tend to concede when the opposition has the ascendancy. Happily, they did not. I did not want to admit it to myself, but taking a point from this one looked more and more like a good outcome for City.

Little Nedved Junior and I spent the last twenty minutes of the match standing among the 'normal' Dover supporters. That was not in order to be disruptive - my son wanted to collect some of the Ash seeds (you know, the ones that fall like helicopters) that were scattered on the terrace there. He managed to stuff both pockets with them. This got me close enough to the drumming to see more of what was happening. The main drummer was a rather portly fellow who looked intent on trouble. He pulled down his trousers to expose his generous backside to the City supporters several times. I had another uncle that used to do that too, but they put him in a home.

With the relentless drumming annoying everyone in the ground, it was easy to overlook that the match had been blessed with a fairly annoying official. Wes Linden started the match off fairly anonymously (as in good), but then became more and more whistle-happy as the match went on. Both sides were frustrated by his apparantly random distribution of foul calls. He upset City supporters when he allowed Dover's Shaun Welford to get away with a vicious elbow at Gethin Jones early in the match. Welford was already on a yellow, so he appears to have lost the nerve to give him a second.

Despite this, however, as the clock began to wind down I'm sure most City supporters were happy with the single point. From listening to the muttering of several in the crowd, they were just as happy that they Dover supporters would now be leaving.

Although I would have liked to hang out in Charlie's, I took Little Nedved Junior to McDonald's as a reward for his good behaviour during the match. After he had consumed his allotted portion of grease and salt, we ambled back to our car. The Dover's supporters coach pulled out just as we reached Twerton Park. I caught the eye of a Dover supporter on board and we exchanged friendly waves. It felt like the right thing to do. I learned growing up that when you are confronted with rude, aggressive, or just crazy behaviour, it's always best to just smile and wave.

To Soar with the Eagles You Have to Defeat Some Turkeys - Part 2

2010-02-05T23:25:00.012Z

As I set down to write this I am aware that I might end up saying some not very nice things about Bath City's Tuesday night opponents: Weston-super-Mare AFC (the club so nice, they reformed it twice!). Perhaps that's not fair. I'll admit that it is probably not sporting. Weston are likely to be relegated at the end of the season and not play Bath City again for several years. I also must state that I have never had the chance to get to meet any Weston fans in person. They are probably normal people who in another context would be as nice to know as anyone else.

But then, this isn't another context. Any passionate supporter will tell you there are opponents that you can develop a strong, if irrational, dislike for. I'm getting that way with Weston. The shenanigans on New Year's Day did not help. They use a lot of dirty tackles. And hardly any of their supporters travel the short distance to Twerton Park on match day. Tuesday night I could only spot about five (there may have been more, but not wearing colours or sitting anywhere conspicuous). If City have a really amazing end to this season there might be two divisions separating the clubs next year, and that would suit me just fine.

Returning to my previous narrative, the match kicked off with home supporters nervously hoping that City would show their superior ability on the pitch against poor opposition - something that has often not happened in previous years. City chose to attack the Bristol End for the first half, and the singing, Ultra-type fans (including myself) gathered round the gigantic Bath City white ensign that the City supporter known as Paul1978 recently organised. We kicked off a night of singing with 'Oh When the Stripes Come Marching In!'

Singing anything at all on a Tuesday night match is a great stride for City supporters. Mid-week matches always have smaller, quieter crowds. The last one, a 5-0 thumping of Woking in December, had been played in relative silence. A noisy crowd, though, generates the sort of atmosphere that will hopefully encourage more fans to attend. We have also been thinking it is helpful for the players as well. I'm pleased to say that I can confirm this is the case with this message of thanks from a player:

The atmosphere around the ground has been fantastic since the Grimsby game and now you have the brilliant flag it adds to the atmosphere. The support [Tuesday] night was fantastic for a evening game, the moment we kicked off you could here your singing all over the pitch. It does make a difference to the players when you hear the fans singing and creating a great atmosphere. I'm really glad you're all enjoying the games and I hope you all stick together for the rest of the season to helps get us into the playoffs.

-Thanks,

Jim

Jim, as in Jim Rollo, the Bath City captain and general legend. What Jim says, we must do. Okay everyone?

I suppose I'd better start talking about what happened on the pitch. Actually, you can probably guess. City dominated things from the start (although without scoring) and Weston started kicking anything in black and white stripes within reach. The first few minutes were typical of the first half: Lewis Hogg was just wide of the post with a strike from the edge of the penalty box, quickly followed by a two-footed assault by Weston's Craig Rand on Kaid Mohamed. The home support may have seen red, but match referee Antony Coggins only saw yellow.

A few minutes into the match I met up with my friend James. James works on Saturdays, but comes to the occasional mid-week match. This was his first appearance at Twerton Park since last seasons soul-destroying loss to Bishop's Stortford (not to be confused with last month's soul-destroying draw with Bishop's Stortford). After a few minutes of chatting I suddenly realised just how much has changed in the last nine months.

He was really shocked to see the flags, to hear the singing, and by the size of the crowd. More importantly, he was shocked to see how well City were playing. Last season City were a solid team who showed flashes of brilliance, but mostly just flashes. This season, despite injury setbacks and a small squad, City have become a team that pass the ball with a silkiness that the snootiest haberdasher would feel proud to display. Feel the quality!

Although James has enjoyed coming to matches with me, he has always assumed a slightly mocking tone. It is friendly banter between mates, but when he's seen a boring match he has not refrained from disparaging comments. Suddenly, as we watched yet another brilliant cross into the box from Sekani Simpson, he could not do that. He didn't want to do it either. 'Is he a new signing,' he asked of Simpson, with the Ultras' songs ringing in our ears.

I assured him he was not, and that 'Simmo' has even impressed the presenters on Soccer AM. Simmo was on fire, and City were thumping Weston up and down the pitch. I had a sudden upswelling of pride as I realised just how much the club and the supporters have accomplished this season.

After hearing so much about the undynamic duo of Andy Gurney and Chris Smith (respectively Weston's manager and assistant manager), I invited James to come with me and stand behind their dugout for a few minutes. I was hoping to hear something shocking, like the instructions Gurney had reportedly given to his team on Boxing Day to get City's Lewis Hogg sent off. We listened for about twenty minutes, and I can say that nothing incriminating was said at all. There was some low level intimidation of the linesman, and a bit of wandering out of the technical area, but nothing serious. When Gurney did shout something to his players it was, 'Don't foul!' He shouted this over and over again. To me, that's the equivalent of carrying a fragile vase and having someone behind you shout, 'Don't drop it!' I'm not the professional football coach, though. Maybe they needed reminding.

City continued to dominate play, but not score. I will admit that this worried me. Unconverted half-chances were racking up quickly. Even poor teams can punish you when you fail to take advantage of a dominant spell. Luckily City did eventually take advantage at thirty-four minutes.

Sekani Simpson (as previously mentioned - on fire) eluded a Weston defender on the goal line and launched another perfect cross into the six-yard box. This led to one of my favourite goals of the season. Normally favourite goals are the ones that come unexpectedly, like Mike Perrott's stunning volley off a Jim Rollo cross against Chelmsford in the season opener. This goal, however, was clearly going to happen almost from the moment the ball left Simmo's foot. Kaid Mohamed was in the perfect spot to get a good header, and was for once not being molested by any Weston players. Weston's Lurch-like keeper, Kevin Sawyer (who to be fair, had an excellent game) was going to have no chance. It was still a thing of beauty, though, even though it was not subtle or mysterious. I, of course, went completely nuts and started screaming like a banshee. Like a banshee stood only a few feet behind Andy Gurney, I should say.

The half ended with City almost scoring twice more. James and I returned to the Popular Side of the ground. As we walked I reflected on how many goals City could have scored, and how surprising it was that match referee Antony Coggins had assumed such a low profile. After his flip-flop on the suitability of the pitch on New Year's Day, I was expecting more controversy from him. It turned out I needed only to wait until the second half.

Well, twenty-five minutes into the second half, to give him credit. Between minutes forty-five and seventy, the second half was much like the first: City dominating but not converting. Then all heck broke loose.

Weston striker, Josh Klein-Davies came at Lewis Hogg with a dangerous tackle on the sideline near the main stand. I was surprised by this. During a loan spell with City last season, Klein-Davies had come across as lazy an disinterested. I didn't know he had a dangerous tackle in him. Anyway, Lewis Hogg didn't like this very much. There are several versions of what happened next, but I am going to relate the one I heard. I sprinted over to the other side of the ground and questioned two fans who stood only a few feet away from the events that followed. They gave roughly the same story, and stood far enough apart from each other that they had not conferred. Here is what they said:

After being tackled from behind, Hogg stood up and said a few unkind things to Klein-Davies, who was still lying prone. Klein-Davies stood up eventually, and, taking Hogg by the face, proceeded to simulate receiving a head-butt from Hogg. He then threw himself back onto the pitch. This led to a lot of aggressive posturing from players on both sides, and a lot of people separating various players to keep things from getting out of control. A long time passed, with Coggins seeming unable to resolve the situation and get the match back underway. Eventually a red card was shown to Klein-Davies. Predictably, a red card was shown to Hogg as well. Although at least a minute passed between the two red cards, there was a further scuffle in the tunnel. Klein-Davies, two separate people told me, had been waiting in the tunnel for Hogg.

Coggins appears to have been suckered by the Weston striker. It was not be the first time, of course, he had been pressured by that team into making the wrong call. Coggins had assumed a low profile in the first seventy minutes, but he had done this by going too easy on the bad tackles Weston had been employing. Now, as he tried desperately to stamp his authority back on the game, he just looked ridiculous.

Suddenly there was not infraction so small that it could not require a whistle. One free-throw was re-taken four times. Players on either side who got a bit physical received long lectures about something or other. Coggins made it look important with lots of gesticulating. Well, he tried. Shorter lectures earlier in the match would not have gone amiss.

Although both sides were equal with ten men, the new dynamic seemed to favour Weston. They began to pressure City in a way not seen in either match. They even managed a decent shot ten minutes before time. As injury time approached I began to worry Weston would earn their second ever draw at Twerton Park.

Then, a bizarre match got even more bizarre. At ninety minutes Weston made their third substitution. On to the pitch came....Andy Gurney. That's right, the manager. It's not unheard of for a manager to name himself as a sub in non-league football. I suppose they want to make the squad look a bit bigger. It is pretty weird for one to actually suit up and come on to play. This was the fifth time Gurney had named himself as a sub this season, but the first time he'd actually come on. At thirty-six he's not quite too old to be a player, but it was his first league appearance for any club since he left Newport County for a career in management in 2008. I can't help but wonder what his motivation was here. What was the best outcome he could have expected? If he got a goal and levelled the score, what would the dressing room be like after the match? Wouldn't he be undermining the confidence of his own players? Wouldn't they all secretly (or not so secretly) hate him? And then there is the outside chance he could embarrass himself and shred whatever personal authority he has left. Certainly, an odd-ball call.

In the end Gurney failed to have much impact on the final few minutes (which I guess still makes the decision hard to justify). Coggins whistled for full time, and the relieved City fans roared with triumph. Things were good. City was in eighth place. Bring on Dover Athletic. Goodbye, until next season, Antony Coggins. Goodbye, hopefully for many seasons, Weston-super-Mare AFC!

To Soar with the Eagles You Have to Defeat Some Turkeys - Part 1

2010-02-02T23:00:00.014Z

Bath City defeated Weston-super-Mare 1-0 last night. It was an important victory. City are now in eighth place, but only four points behind second place Woking. A victory over Dover Athletic this coming Saturday will almost certainly launch City for the first time this season into a playoff spot. Holy change-of-fortune, Batman!

Just a week ago, following a loss to Thurrock and a demoralising draw with Bishop's Stortford, the playoffs seemed a distant hope. Now they are there for the taking. But wait, you ask, have we not been down this road before? Has City's current position in the table (eighth) not been a barrier that City have appeared to be on the verge of passing several times in the last two seasons, only to disappoint? Yes, that is true. Eighth place has seemed like the natural home of Bath City ever since I began following them. There are rumours if they spend much more time there the Conference is going to bill the club for rent. Why, you ask, why do you think this is any different from the previous times City arrived in eighth place, appeared on the brink of top five place, and failed to deliver?

Two reasons. One is that I'm an optimist (read: stupid). Even if City were in fact a terrible team but had fortuitously found themselves in the top half of the table I would find a way to fool myself into thinking, 'this is our year!' (Havant & Waterlooville fans take note). The other reason is that the one thing that has constantly thwarted our brave men in stripes whenever they appear to be on the verge of greatness is.....bad teams. Yes, City will beat the tar out of Woking home and away, but will they be able to grind out three points against the teams propping up the table? Last year the answer was no. Just as the fixture list began to unfold into a series of 'sure-thing' victories last February, City managed to lose three 'sure things' on the trot. The most heartbreaking was a 0-1 loss to lowly Fisher Athletic. Fisher were so humbled by financial problems the team could not even afford training facilities. For a fundraiser they let fans manage the team. Once they had to borrow a game ball from some kids who lived across the street from the ground (okay, that's not true). Would this year's Fisher Athletic turn into another banana skin, and scupper another Bath City season?

This year's Fisher Athletic is our local rivals, Weston-super-Mare AFC. This is a very bad team. They have been bad for many years, but as winter has set in they have achieved new levels of badness. Their form going into last night was no wins, no draws, and six losses. In that time they have scored two goals and allowed fourteen. I would say that they could not fight their way out of a paper bag, but actually fighting is the one thing that they have been consistently good at. No wait, they've also been very good at getting their matches called off (see here).

Last night I arrived at the ground early on purpose. I had arrived on time for the New Year's Day match, only to find that Chris Smith had pressured the match referee (Mr. Anthony Coggins - more on him later), to reverse his earlier decision to allow the match to proceed. Instead of watching an important match I ended up watching Bath City train on the 'unplayable' pitch. I couldn't think of a way (or a reason) the Weston management team could pull the same stunt twice, but it hadn't made much sense the first time round either. At first, when I didn't see their coach in the parking lot I thought they had done another runner. It turned out that they had already arrived. Weston is close enough to Bath that rather than hire a coach they had just bummed rides off their mates (or something like that).

Bath City's rivalry with Weston has been remarkably one-sided. Although the two sides have been playing each other for over a hundred years, City have yet to lose in any of the encounters. In fact, every match has ended in a City victory except for one draw in 1911 (in a 'Bristol Charity League' match - like that counts!). In the six matches the two sides have played since City's promotion to the Blue Square South, Weston have yet to score a goal. Considering that Weston have also only brought a handful of supporters to either of the two matches I've seen them play at Twerton Park, it is sort of surprising that there is much of a rivalry at all? Why, as City fans, would we bother to concern ourselves with such a mere trifle?

Here is an account taken from the Bath City forum that will explain how the animosity has been kept alive:

When we played away at Weston on Boxing Day, there was a stoppage in play during the first half for an injury. Weston started the game appallingly, offering no threat whatsoever, as per usual. Gurney [the Weston manager] called a few of his players over. One would presume this was to offer some tactical advice, a few words to inspire his team to get back into the game. What did he say? "Get Hogg sent off".

I'm sure that Weston supporters will have swear that this is not so, that really Bath City players are always the provocateurs. Nevertheless, the idea that Weston are a team that play dirty is firmly embedded in the City-supporter collective consciousness. Combine this with City's tendency to struggle against poor opposition, and you had some decidedly nervous home supporters in the terraces of Twerton Park. Could City dispel the ghost of Fisher Athletic?

Once inside I decided to go watch Weston warm up. I wandered around to the Bristol Side and struck a non-challant pose. Right away I could see a difference between this team and the one that had lost 3-0 to City the previous February. Their shirts fit. I don't know why, but last year the Weston players were all kitted out like they were wearing hand-me-downs from their older, fatter brothers. It would have been comical, except their performance on the pitch was more comical, and eventually you stopped noticing the XXL sportswear. At least there is some progress for manager Andy Gurney to point to.

Watching the opposition warm up isn't actually very interesting. I was hoping to hear the Weston players discussing tactics to get various City players sent off, but to give them their due they just stuck to their warm-up routine. They couldn't even manage to be good villains (yet). I wandered back round to the Popular side to gossip with my fellow fans until the match started.

The consensus among my fellow gossipers was that although we'd love to see Weston get a 5-0 thumping, a 1-0, squeaky-bum victory would do. Several people pointed out that although Weston rarely win a match, they rarely lose by more than a couple goals. Three points, however it comes, would do nicely.

As the match was kicking off I realised there were more people to gossip with than normal on a Tuesday night. The attendance was eventually announced as 545, which is in fact the highest mid-week attendance of the season. Even the Woking match, following three days after over three thousand people had come to Twerton Park for an FA Cup match, had only been watched by 434 brave souls. Those brave souls had been very quiet souls as well. Tuesday matches are noted for being supported in a very relaxed fashion. The informal but growing group of Bath City 'Ultras' had turned out in force, however. Gathered round their giant Bath City white ensign, they began singing with more passion than has been heard midweek at Twerton Park for many years. There is a sense that momentum is building on the pitch when Bath City play. I'm proud to say, there is also a sense that momentum is building in the terraces amongst the supporters.

Part two can be read here.

A 2-0 Victory, Reborn Playoff Hopes, and a Circus Tent

2010-01-30T00:48:00.012Z

Bath City defeated St Albans City 2-0 yesterday in a decisive victory. This should not be a huge surprise to anyone: City are a better side than their record would indicate, and St Albans' have now lost four games on the trot. Perhaps it wasn't a surprise, but it sure was a relief to City supporters everywhere. Last Saturday's squandering of a two goal lead to Bishop's Stortford had been discouraging to say the least. A quick glance a City's fixture list will reveal several winnable matches coming up. After today's victory there is a real sense that City's playoff aspirations are back on track.

Really? If ever there was a need for evidence that football supporters aren't operating with all pistons firing, this is it. Just seven days ago the the talk on the Bath City forum was all about how the playoff chase was over and it was time to concentrate on next year. This was despite the fact that there were eighteen games left in the season and City were only eight points off the pace. The second half of the Bishop's Stortford game was so depressing the idea that City were playoff contenders seemed impossible, even though it should have been obvious to anyone with a little bit of perspective and a copy of the fixture list that it wasn't. Well, obvious to anyone except me or anyone I knew. I was feeling pretty down. Now after a win, even one I didn't see, I am looking forward to the beginning of a run of victories. Experiencing the entire gamut of human emotion over a week's time due to irrational mood-swings is one of the many benefits of being a football supporter.

So, how did our newly-rechristened, world-beating Bath City boys fare against their inevitably doomed opponents? Very well as a matter of fact. Initial reports began filtering through on the internet soon after kick-off. I was replacing the safety net on the family trampoline in the garden at the time, but I was able to think up a long list of excuses of why I needed to go into the house every few minutes. Mrs Nedved wasn't fooled, but since some of the excuses began with, 'would you like a cup of tea dear?' she turned a blind eye. If you've not replaced a trampoline safety net before, you'll just have to trust me that it is thirsty work.

On only my second visit inside I learned that City had taken a 1-0 lead. Lewis Hogg's corner was knocked away by St Alban's keeper Paul Bastock. Unfortunately for Bastock he knocked it near enough to Chris Holland that 'Dutch' was able to drive the ball home. I learned later that this had been the second Hogg corner followed by a shot from Holland. The first one was deflected over the crossbar by the veteran keeper.

I remember Bastock from St Albans' visit to Twerton Park last January. Even though he was playing for the opposition, he was a player I couldn't help but like. Not because he is a former Bath City player (playing in a single game on loan from Cambridge United in 1988 - 1988!). Not because at thirty-nine years of age he is the same age as me and still managing to play semi-pro football. No, I found him to be likable because he is one of those keepers who single-handedly keeps his side in a match even when the outfield players are going to sleep. He made a half-dozen quality saves in that match last year, keeping what should have been a runaway victory a nervy 1-0 affair for City. Every match report I've read for this Saturday's match cites Bastock as being the main reason Bath City did not win five or six. Let's hear it for thirty-nine year olds!

Things out in the garden were making me feel my thirty-nine years. Did you know that trampolines not only have safety nets now, but it is also possible to buy circus tents to go over them? Why? I don't know. One of the disadvantages to being thirty-nine is that many of the things that appeal to my children I now find baffling. Like Richard Hammond's Blast Lab, for instance. Is that really meant to be entertaining? Is it really so engrossing that when it comes on telly you need to stop whatever you are doing, slump into a nearby chair, drool and dilate your pupils until it is over? I digress. Mrs Nedved, who has a sixth sense for what is on-trend for the under-tens, purchased a circus tent that is designed to slip over our trampoline. She informed me, just as I was getting the new safety net in place and getting ready to settle down in front of the computer for some more Bath City updates, that it would be really nice for the Nedved Juniors if I put it up right away. 'The instructions say it only takes ten minutes,' she explained.

Maybe the people who designed the darned thing, with a few weeks practice, might eventually manage to errect it in ten minutes. Considering that it is supposed to be a two-man job and I was doing it by myself, that said instructions had been misplaced and/or blown away by the time I got all of the poles assembled, and that by the time the second half kicked off twilight was fast approaching, there was no way I was going to get back to the computer in ten minutes. I rushed out the door into the garden dragging a long trail of multicoloured nylon behind me. I was so intent on getting the thing assembled that I never stopped to question why exactly my children would want to jump on a trampoline inside a tent. Am I alone in thinking that this is contrary to the free-spirited nature of the act of trampolining? Is the fact that I have asked a question beginning, 'Am I alone in thinking...' a sign that I'm getting really old? Does Paul Bostock ask this sort of question?

After a rushed job that would pass for complete in the approaching darkness, I ran back inside and refreshed my computer screen to find...nothing. Sean, our intrepid online match reporter, later confessed his hands were so cold he was strugling to send out texts about what was happening. There had been a light dusting of snow and ice the night before in the Bath area the night before, but St Albans had been hit harder. The match had only gone ahead due to the hard work of the St Albans' supporters. Even then one of the terraces had to be closed for health and safety issues. Considering how much bad luck Bath City has had with cancelled matches, we all owe the St Albans' volunteers a big thank you.

I later learned that City's dominence lasted through the second half. St Albans did manage the occasional raid on City's goal, especially a blistering shot at fifty-six mintues from Chris Sullivan. For the most part, though, City kept up an intense pressure, and Bastock managed just enough to keep out a second goal. It was not until there were only ten minutes left in the match that he finally relented and City put the game away.

It started with Darren Edwards. After being removed from the Bishop's Stortford match complaining of blurred vision, Edwards had suffered an excruciating headache which got so bad he ended up in Frenchay Hospital for two nights. He was cleared for release after a brain scan. He wasn't expected to travel Saturday, but he came along anyway. It was only fitting he be involved in the best play of the match. Edwards passed the ball to Kaid Mohamed on the right. Mohamed could have taken a shot on goal. Instead he crossed the ball to Lewis Hogg. For the second consecutive match Hogg scored City's second goal with a header. Hopefully it is a run he will extend for several more games.

I sat at the computer and waited for full time. A quick glance at the league table revealed that the three points had not lifted City above tenth place, but it had put them only only five points away from the playoffs. A win against free-falling Weston-super-Mare on Tuesday night could lift them as high as seventh. In fact, if you assume that City were to win its two games in hand (come on, we don't admit it but we do always count games in hand as three points when we look at the standings, don't we?), then City would be in an exilerating fourth! There is still a long way to go, but things are looking positive enough I wonder how anyone could have been discouraged by the draw against Bishop's Stortford. Right?

Little Nedved Junior loves his new circus tent. He thinks its the coolest thing ever. I took all the credit.

The Female Galacticos

2010-01-26T22:13:00.026Z

Galácticos (or superstars) is a Spanish term used to describe expensive, world-famous football players, having either positive or negative connotations. This term came into use to describe the policy pursued in the first tenure of Florentino Pérez's presidency at Real Madrid, where he purchased at least one galáctico in the summer of every year.

Perhaps I'm overstating things slightly to say that my new home town team, the Atlanta Beat, are the WPS version of Real Madrid. After all, the Beat are so new they have yet to even hold a practice. So, I'll agree I'm overstating things. Slightly.

From where I'm sitting the Beat appear to be about to take over the world. As I described in my recent post, Atlanta Beat, or Umeåtlanta Beatrottsklu b?, the Beat front office had successfully signed three players from the Swedish women's football giants, Umeå IK. Among these newly signed players is a nineteen-year-old with realistic ambitions of being the best player in the world: Ramona Bachmann.

Why be content with only one superstar, though? Why not have two? At the recent WPS main draft in Philadelphia, the Beat had the first overall draft pick. It was a surprise to no one that they selected three-time All-American Tobin Heath. Although only twenty-one years old, Heath has an impressive array of accomplishments. During her four years playing for the North Carolina Tarheels she helped them to win three national college championships. She won her first international cap at age 19, and was the youngest member of the gold-medal winning US Olympic team in Beijing. Basically, she's awesome.

Since the majority of my readers are not American I'd better take a moment to explain what a 'draft' is. Rather than just let teams fight over young prospects with little regulation, most professional leagues in America have a system for distributing young talent to the teams that need it most. Because high-school and college sports in America is not only very competitive, but also well financed, elite athletes normally stay in these programs until they are about twenty-two years old. At that point, if their prospects are good, they will enter themselves into a professional 'draft.' Each team selects players in turn, normally with the weakest team going first. As the Atlanta Beat are a brand-new expansion team they got the first choice of this year's crop of college seniors. They would not confirm in advance who they were going to pick, but nobody had any doubts that Tobin Heath was going to be their choice.

What does this mean for the Beat then? Are Heath and Bachmann going to be the Gerrard and Torres of the WPS? Well, maybe. It's too early to say, and as Real Madrid have shown repeatedly, it takes more than just the best players in the world to win a title. Head coach Gareth O'Sullivan still has a huge challenge ahead as he tries to fashion a group of players who have not even met before into title contenders. At least he now appears to have the right ingredients to do it with.

Heath also offers the Beat something else that all professional teams need: a player with star quality off the pitch. For the Beat to succeed long term it is more important that they conquer the hearts and minds of the Atlanta sporting public than the teams they face on the pitch each week. This won't be easy. Atlanta's main paper, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, shows little interest in the city's new team. They declined to even cover the draft at all. It's going to take someone with charisma and charm to get the Atlanta media to take an interest, and Heath is probably the Beat's best shot.

The Beat also picked up six other players in the WPS draft. Blakely Mattern, a two-time All-American defender from South Carolina, was their second pick. I'll admit that as a relative newcomer to women's football, I didn't know who Mattern was, but she is well known to Coach O'Sullivan. 'Blakely is a very solid defender,' he said, 'who I have seen play on a number of occasions.' She was the only pure defensive player the Beat took in the draft, so I hope she is solid. She sure was excited to be drafted, though:

'I couldn't be happier. I'm just on cloud nine right now. It's literally a dream come true to even have a chance to be here, and to think I'm going to be playing professional soccer is unbelievable to me. It still hasn't sunk in yet. It couldn't have worked out any better!'

The Beat potentially set some sort of sporting record (I'm sure someone keeps up on this sort of thing) by selecting twin sisters in the same draft. Shameka (defender/midfielder) and Shaneka (forward) Gordon originally hail from Old Harbour, Jamaica. They both played together at the University of West Florida.

The Beat also selected three more forwards (O'Sullivan has said he wants the Beat to have an attacking style of play!): Jill Hutchinson from Wake Forest, Kasey Langdon from Okalhoma State, and local girl Carrie Patterson from the University of Georgia.

With twenty-one players now signed or drafted, the Beat must be coming close to completing their squad. The only obvious opening is another keeper to back up Allison Whitworth. Will the Atlanta Beat fulfil their promise to be 'the best in the world?' I think they might just do it.

New Media In Action!

2010-01-25T12:00:00.024Z

Last night about midnight I was struggling to write my article on Saturday's draw with Bishop's Stortford. As Bath City had thrown away a 2-0 lead at a key point in the season, I was finding it difficult to write something that was truthful without being totally depressing. To lift the mood I turned on BBC Radio 5 Live Sports Extra to hear the commentary of the NFL playoffs. It was the AFC championship game between the Indianapolis Colts and the New York Jets. The coverage was from the Westwood Radio Network in America (to me, after years living in the UK, the commentators sounded REALLY LOUD AND REALLY FAST!!!!!) with the BBC's Arlo White adding insights and statistics from a studio in London during the American network's frequent commercial breaks. As is the norm on during Radio 5 Live, Arlo invited the listeners to get in touch by text, on Facebook, or through Twitter.

I don't usually take up these invitations. It is a pretty rare event when I find any of these listener comments at all enlightening. Why would I want to inflict my own ill-informed, potentially biased opinion on the entire nation (especially when I have this blog to do that through, anyway)? Unusually, though, Arlo White gave his own Twitter address, @arlowhite, and it just so happened that I follow Arlo White on Twitter. One of his recent tweets was just there in front of me on the computer. Without giving it much thought, I sent the following tweet: '@arlowhite as an American in exile, its great to get the coverage of the playoffs. Keep it up! (next year the Falcons will win it all). '

I was determined not to be up too late writing, so as soon as I sent this I buckled down to try and grind out a description of City's defensive collapse in the second half. I didn't get very far, because within twenty seconds or so I heard Arlo's silky-smooth radio voice to my right say: 'NedvedsNotes on Twitter says, "as an American in exile, its great to get the coverage of the playoffs. Keep it up! (next year the Falcons will win it all)." Discuss. I don't know about that.'

Well, I just about fell out of my chair! I know this new media thing is supposed to be instant and interactive, but I hadn't really written that tweet with an expectation that it would be read on air! For some reason that I can't quite explain, contributing even a short, anodyne comment to a national, but niche-interest, radio broadcast made me feel very good about myself. I didn't even mind the way Arlo's co-host grunted dismissively at my suggestion that the Atlanta Falcons would be contenders next season (they probably won't be, anyway). Maybe that's why the BBC encourages interactivity so much - it makes the participants feel good. After all, that's what CBeeBies has been doing for years when it holds up homemade birthday cards that the parents of toddlers have sent in each morning. Nobody watches those and says, 'that birthday card for Jeremy, aged three, who I've never met, made my day!'

I can't say that writing about the Bishop's Stortford match got any less depressing after this. It helped to get me through a fairly gloomy bit of writing at least. If City have many more matches like that, listen out for comments on 5 Live from 'NedvedsNotes!'

Dog Days at Twerton Park

2010-01-25T01:26:00.013Z

Bath City drew against Bishop's Stortford at home in front of 558 people yesterday. That was not how things were supposed to go.

No. Things were supposed to go very differently. City were supposed to crush Bishop's Stortford as they did at the away fixture 5-1. This was supposed to happen in front of a bumper crowd made up of people drawn back after the great football they saw at the last two Saturday home matches (1,404 against Newport County and 3,325 against Forest Green Rovers). That's the way I had planned it, anyway.

The last time I had seen City in action had been at their 3-1 away victory at Woking. This had been a superb performance in adverse conditions. It was followed by a fairly routine victory against the hapless Weston-super-Mare on Boxing Day. Being just a few points out of the playoff zone, and in excellent form, was creating a real sense of momentum among the City supporters. And then, like some sort of evil snow monster, the bad weather took hold, and matches got cancelled. Without kicking a ball, City found itself slipping down the table. When the Thurrock match went ahead against all expectations last Saturday, City played disappointingly and lost 3-1. Now after drawing to Bishop's Stortford, City are in tenth place and eight points behind the playoffs. Despite everyone's best intentions, all that momentum seems to have melted away with the snow.

I did not know this yet as I arrived at Twerton Park with the two Nedved Juniors. I was mostly just relieved to be back at a live match - the last two times I had been to Twerton I had found the games called off. I was excited to see the new enormous flag that had been organised by 'WSP' and his burgeoning group of City Ultras. The origins of this enormous Naval ensign have been kept obscure, but a whipround among the fans has paid for the City badge and the words 'BATH CITY' to be added to it. My Latvian flag with 'ANDREJS' painted on it, looking rather small and insignificant in comparison, made its first appearance as well.

Although the crowd appeared to be much smaller than I had hoped as the match kicked off, the opening spell of play looked very encouraging. Kaid Mohamed and Darren Edwards had the look of a potent partnership from the first whistle, and Lewis Hogg and Adam Connolly appeared to be in good form as well. The play was slightly scrappier, and more reliant on the long ball than I had remembered before the new year. It only seemed a matter of time, though, before City took the lead.

I started to get worried after about fifteen minutes, however, when City had not scored. Stortford was not looking likely to score themselves, but both teams began to struggle to do anything but knock the ball around in midfield. I got more worried when Darren Edwards went off at the twenty minute mark. It turned out Edwards was about to suffer a migraine and his vision had started blurring. He was replaced by the controversial Stuart Douglas.

When Douglas arrived at Twerton Park at the beginning of last season, he looked like he would be a goal-scoring machine for City. He was, once, against Newport County, about a year ago. He can show impressive ball skills, and frequently gets the ball in good positions in the penalty box. Frustratingly, this rarely results in a goal. Douglas doesn't help his case with the fans by regularly falling over and frequently getting called offside.

I try not to be negative about Douglas. Nothing would be better for City than for him to prove his critics wrong. That scenario wasn't looking likely, though, as all of City's forward attack appeared to have dried up. Both teams looked ineffectual, and I began to wonder if a 0-0 draw was on the cards. If this continued then City would need a bit of magic to score.

And then, the magic happened. Douglas fought for a ball in Bishop Stortford's half, and although he fell to the ground in the process, the ball rolled to City captain Jim Rollo. He slotted the ball neatly to Adam Connolly, who passed it to Lewis Hogg with one touch. Hogg, sent the ball right back to the advancing Connolly with a looping chip. Connolly struck the ball with a powerful volley from twenty-five yards out, right into the bottom left corner of the net. As City had been the dominant team for most of the match, you couldn't call it a goal against the run of play. It certainly wasn't expected, though.

Bishop Stortford had showed so little interest in City's goal so far, I felt very relaxed with City's single goal lead. Several chances for City came before the end of the half. The best came when Douglas got the ball in the penalty box unmarked, but stumbled before he could square up for the shot. Although the half ended with the score only 1-0, I thought City had a good chance of opening up a big lead before the game was over.

The second goal came within a minute of the restart. Connolly got the ball on the break and found Kaid Mohamed on the right. I thought he might score on his own, but a Stortford defender caught up with him as he neared the goal line. After tracking back a few yards, Mohamed made a perfect, head-high diagonal cross to Hogg. A brilliant goal, and a sign that City's pre-snow form was returning.

Except, almost immediately after the goal, the pre-snow form disappeared again. Perhaps because Bishop's Stortford had shown absolutely no inclination to score up to this point, City appeared to be happy to let them have most of the ball from this point. Stortford still didn't look very effective, but they certainly got plenty of time to practice penetrating the Ctiy defence. The practice paid off just after the hour mark. After several ineffective attempts to clear the ball, City sat back and let Stortford string together nine uninterrupted passes mostly around mid-field. Although none of the passes looked very threatening, eventually one was made to Charlie Sherringham at the top of the penalty box. He chested the ball down and struck it sharply into the City net. 2-1.

I've seen City show a tremendous amount of character in tough situations throughout this season. It was a real shock to see the same team allow an opponent back into a match through complacency. It was even more shocking to see City be just as complacent after the goal. After watching City sit back for another fifteen minutes, it was not shocking to see Charlie Sherringham score a second goal to level the score. A simple pass across the goal mouth eluded City keeper Ryan Robinson. Sherringham was in the right place to tap it into the net.

City did play better once they had blown their two goal lead, but I am too depressed to write about it. They came close to taking the lead again a couple times, but they really shouldn't have been in the position to need to take the lead again. The game was all but sewn up a minute into the second half. It was two points dropped, and dropped with an enormous thud. Suddenly, everyone, including me, is on a downer.

It goes without saying that after watching a two-goal lead disappear, the emotions in the stand ranged from anger to despair. The Bath City message board has been full of comments about how the playoffs are now out of reach and efforts should be concentrated on next season. In his post-match interview, manager Adie Britton said he doesn't have the money he needs to bolster the squad anyway at the moment. "It appears the money from the FA Cup has been spent on the quiet winter period when we haven't had games and we simply don't have the cash flow apparently to sign players," he said. Bummer.

Although I am usually a 'glass-half-full' type of person, I can't help but share in the generally miserable mood that has descended on the Bath City faithful. I have a lot of affection for this year's City squad, and the idea that they might end up merely mid-table really depresses me. Although they are capable of playing brilliant football, they need to play it more consistently than they are now if they are going to make the playoffs. After yesterday's match, that seems unlikely.

A bit of simple analysis, however, shows that this negative outlook is not really borne out by the facts. Bath City are eight points adrift of the playoffs, but there are eighteen matches left. Every single one of those matches appears, at least on paper, winnable (well, maybe not the away match to Bromley, but I say that only because City never seem to win there). Adie Britton needs more money and a bigger squad, but that's nothing new. He's accomplished so much with a limited budget so far, it is a bit early to start planning for next year. After yesterday, progressing to the playoffs might not feel likely to me, but the City players won't be concerning themselves with my feelings. Yesterday was an ugly draw, and that's all it was. Onward!

Highlights of the match can be seen here.

Once Around the Villa Park and Then Home

2010-01-21T00:23:00.037Z

I travelled to Birmingham to attend a discussion group for work. It turned out to not be the all-day event I had anticipated, so I decided to take up a longstanding invitation to visit the nearby offices of one of my company's suppliers. The first part of the directions I received read, 'take a train two stops from Birmingham New Street to Aston...' Aston? As in Aston Villa? Yes, it turned out to be so. Besides being the home of a world famous football club, Aston is also the location of a lot of light industry, including the supplier I was visiting. After a tour of the company's headquarters, a bite to eat, and the exchange of a bit of industry gossip, I found myself with an hour to kill before I needed to get back on the train to Bath. Camera in hand I decided to see what there was to see at Villa Park.

So here is what I saw today. Like Bath City, Villa will be playing at home this coming Saturday. Unlike Bath City, Villa are still in the FA Cup.
Aston is a fascinating place. All together in a fairly small area you can find Victorian industrial buildings (many in use), traditional red-brick terraces, a vibrant immigrant community, a world-class football stadium, and a National Trust-like estate called Aston Park. According to what I've been able to read in the initial years after forming Aston Villa played its matches on the grounds of Aston Park.Villa Park is literally across the road from Aston Park. The first thing you come across as you enter the complex is the stately Holte building (which is not, as I first thought, 'Hotel' mis-spelled).As the signs in these pictures show, there are a lot of different places in Villa Park.

The Holte End of Villa Park is the most traditional looking. Like the Burrough of Aston itself, it is a good example of what happened when the Victorians got ahold of a lot of bricks.

Lots of football grounds have stands or ends named after roads. Usually this is an indication that the named road is nearby, or running alongside that part of the football ground. In the case of Villa Park, the Trinity Road Stand was actually built on top of Trinity Road. Honk if you love Villa!

Here's what you see when you come out from under the stands:

After the Trinity Road stand Villa Park is seperated from the street by a row of terrace houses. Here is the last view of Villa Park until you get to the other side of the North Stand:

After reaching the end of the road and making a right turn, I get my first glimpse of the North Stand through a break in the houses. I wonder if they ever watch Aston Villa play with that dish?

For several blocks around Villa Park, everything that can be painted claret has been.

After a few more minutes walking I finally get a full view of the North Stand. And then I wished I hadn't. This is a good example of what happened when architects of the 1960s got ahold of a lot of concrete.

I'm not sure, but I think this building near the North Stand is where the Academy is housed.

Here is a cheerful sign to greet the fans headed towards the Doug Ellis Stand. Or, where'over they're going. If anyone knows what this means please contact me.

Wasn't there a line in The Shawshank Redemption about a prisoner being transferred to 'R Block?' Prisoners, away fans, whatever.

This is not, as I first thought, an official Aston Villa Portaloo.

There seemed to be no end of curious signs at Villa Park. The more the better I say.

Aston Villa FC strongly discourages fat people from purchasing a season ticket for the Doug Ellis stand.

I think I understand what 'Goods Inward' means, but personally I don't think you can improve upon 'Deliveries.'

And here we are back on the other side of the Holte End. The circle is complete.

Back to the train station. It was a much nicer way to pass the time than filling out a spreadsheet back at the office.

Nedved's Notes Turns Half!

2010-01-20T23:22:00.005Z

Yesterday marked six months of existence for this blog. Considering how many blogs there are that fail to live past the initial excitement of the first few posts, I've decided to celebrate. Well, not exactly celebrate, but at least mark the occasion. So, today instead of telling you about life as a American football supporter living in England, I am going to tell you about life as a blogger writing about being an American football supporter living in England. Vive le difference! I say.

So here are some raw facts: since beginning this blog on 19 July 2009 there have been:

95 Posts (including this one), 7,457 hits, and 11,383 page views.

The most viewed pages (other than the main page) have been: In Praise of Fish and Cleethorpes - 363 hits, City Till I Die (Possibly from Exposure)! - 352 hits, The Nedved Interview: Sido Jombarti & Florin Pelecaci - 314 hits, and An Introduction to Bath City FC - 279 hits.

There have been visitors to the blog from eighty-one countries. About 80% of readers are from the UK, 10% from America, and 10% the rest of the world. You might be surprised to learn that after the UK and the US the most common countries are Brazil, the Netherlands, and Belarus. I'm big in Minsk.

I find all of these stats very exciting, although in the world of serious football blogging it is still pretty minor league (or maybe non-league?).

I would like to thank the many people who have helped me with this work in progress. Mostly I need to thank Mrs Nedved, who all things considered, has been very accommodating with my obsession. Also the two Nedved Juniors need special mention for providing with so much material to write about.

Perhaps the biggest help has been from the Bath City webmaster, known as Yuffie. Without his excellent photographs this would be a rather bare blog. He not only produces very high quality work, but gives it away for free to anyone who wants to use it. This is very generous, especially considering that newspapers and magazines borrow work from his Flikr feed about as frequently as I do. He also gave this blog a big readership boost by putting a link on the main page of his website.

I've also received some much needed help from Bath City programme editor Mark Stillman, and the City stalwarts known as Lord Bear and WSP. The Atlanta Beat front office has been very accommodating with the posts I've done about thier project. I am especially grateful for the encouraging comment I received from Beat General Manager Shawn McGee on Twitter.

How did this blog begin? Almost accidentally, to be honest. I thought it might be fun to write about British sports for my friends home in America to read. This turns out to have been a very minor part of what the blog has grown into over the months. I didn't really intend for the blog to take on the semi-journalistic role it has slid into over time (although that has ended up being some of the most enjoyable work of all).

The most exciting experience so far was interviewing Sido and Florin. I had no idea what I was doing, and I became really aware of this about five minutes in. The article would have been a miserable failure if the two of them had not been so nice and understanding. A special thanks has to go out to the Gibbons family for lending me a pen when the one I had brought to the interview mysteriously disappeared.

There have been a few low lights as well. I find writing about Newport County fairly unpleasant. I find the comments this generates from Newport County fans even more so. I have also, so far, failed miserably on one of the key projects of this blog. City manager Adie Britton was kind enough to give up some of his valuable time to let me interview him, but despite a lot of effort I have not been able to knock my material into anything readable yet. This is solely due to my inexperience writing up interviews, and not with the information Adie gave me. I am still hoping to get this published soon.

What can you expect from Nedved's Notes in the next six months? Well, hopefully I'm still writing. If you had asked me back in July if this would last into 2010 I'm not sure I could have honestly said I expected it to. There are two more interviews in the pipeline (including the one of Adie Britton). There is also a lot more coming about the Atlanta Beat, whose season very conveniently begins just about the time that Bath City's is finishing.

And now, a contest: I've written an article of some sort on every single match City have played so far this season except one. Which one was it? [In actual fact the article is half-written but never published] I'm not sure what you'll get if you win. Perhaps a mention in the one-year-anniversary post I write next July.

Okay, I'm going to end this rather self-indulgent post now. Thanks to everyone who has been reading (I still find it somewhat surreal that people do actually read this thing!). Feel free to contact me anytime with comments or suggestions at nedvedsnotes(at)googlemail(dot)com

Normal service resumes tomorrow!

Attack of the Red Squirrels

2010-01-19T01:55:00.002Z

Bath City lost to Thurrock 3-1 on Saturday. After nearly a month without any matches at all, I suppose I should just be thankful that the season is back underway. That would be a lie, of course. It's impossible for a loss to be preferable to anything else.

The match was almost postponed in fact. It snowed here in England a few days before the match, and although the weather was warming and rain was on the way, there was still some doubt about whether or not the match would be thawed yet. Reportedly, Thurrock contacted Bath City two days before the match to suggest the match be postponed until the following Tuesday. The proposal was thankfully declined (the City players are part-time, so they need more notice to clear their schedules, and also Thurrock is a long way away for an evening match). Rather bizarrely, the next morning the Thurrock website sported a moving banner declaring that the pitch had passed an inspection and the match was on. Although this volte face had a whiff of gamesmanship, it is more likely the run-of-the-mill administrative chaos that one comes across regularly when following a non-league club (I mean, all clubs except Bath City).

Once the game was definitely going ahead, the question in everyone's mind was, 'would three weeks off have a detrimental effect on the performance of the City Boys?' Adie Britton did not mention this in his post match interview, but I can't help but suspect it did.

The reason I say that is this: against Thurrock, City played very well for most of the match. Some observers have said that except for a ten minutes spell in the first half City were arguably the better side. The problem was that City allowed Thurrock to score three times in that ten minutes. After this, even though the game was almost beyond reach, City fought bravely. They managed to get a goal back on a penalty from Kaid Mohamed in the closing minutes of the match.

Other than a few details, this is almost the same story as what happened to City earlier in the year on another trip to Essex. This was at Chelmsford, where City started strong for ten minutes before allowing four goals in fifteen minutes. Despite the overwhelming odds against a successful fight back, City fought back anyway. They went into the half 4-2, and managed a third in the second half before, rather tragically it seemed, finishing the game with no points. This was the first match of the season. The Thurrock match wasn't the first match of the season, of course, but after such a long break it sort of felt like it.

The parallels between the two matches are not exact. The goals allowed in the Chelmsford match were mostly the fault of on-loan keeper Will Puddy. The three goals against Thurrock were all for different reasons. The goals in both games were still down to a short period of defensive collapse, for whatever reason.

I suppose I should be really worried about the rest of the season now. I'm not, though. It may not be rational, but I'm going to just ignore that result come Saturday when I will be going to Twerton to see City take on Bishop's Stortford.

I wish I could just ignore Thurrock altogether, to be honest. That's not just because they are a team that for no fathomable reason City don't seem to be able to beat. They are a manifestation of a strange and rather unpleasant phenomenon in non-league football: clubs with no supporters.

Okay, I'm being harsh. There are some Thurrock supporters. Their supporters are not like the Loch Ness Monster, or Bigfoot where you wonder if they exist at all. No, instead they are like the British red squirrel: rare, and easily to overestimate in number. Although the published attendance for Saturday's match was 275, Bath City supporters report that there were at most 175 in attendance. The difference in the two figures is possible explained by counting season ticket holders who did not come (or maybe counting the passengers in any planes that overflew the match on the way to London City Airport?).

Seeing as how Bath City only draw around 600 spectators (600 actual, live, breathing human beings) at Twerton Park, I'm in no position to get cocky about crowd size. What I can say, with confidence, is that Thurrock's average attendance of 326 is not enough to sustain a club at this level of non-league football (especially when it appears the genuine attendance average may be much lower).

Despite the lack of a mass following, Thurrock appear to be flush with cash. The cash, apparently, is being flushed down from the chairman, local businessman, Tommy South. After selling the adjacent Thurrock Hotel in 2007 he devoted himself (and his wallet) to running his club full-time. He's been fairly successful at it, considering that Thurrock did not even exist until 1985. To have reached step-2 of the non-league pyramid is pretty impressive.

It's not very nice, though, for the other clubs in step-2. It means that there are fewer away fans to come to your home matches. It means an away match with very little atmosphere. Tiny attendance figures also make the whole league look more, well, non-league.

I don't blame Mr South for spending his money as he sees fit. I do wonder why on earth he does it. If it is legitimate to ask if a tree falling in an empty forest makes a sound, it is fair to ask a similar question about Thurrock. If Thurrock win the league, who will celebrate the victory? It's not like there aren't a hundred well-established non-league clubs in the London area crying out for investment. Clubs where Mr South would be feted as a hero by more people than can fit into a phone booth.

Still, it appears to suit Mr South's fancy for Thurrock to punch well above the weight of its support. Step-2 is a curious level, where tiny chairman-financed clubs like Thurrock and Weston-super-Mare rub along with relatively huge clubs like Woking and Newport County. In an ideal world, Adie Britton and his team will put Saturday's defeat behind them and win promotion to the Conference National, and leave these red squirrels behind!

Why I Wore A Paper Bag On My Head Today

2010-01-12T22:37:00.005Z

Living as an American in England is, by and large, a pleasant experience. One of the very few things that can make it an unpleasant experience, however, (and I feel very disloyal saying this) is encountering fellow Americans.

I'm not talking about fellow ex-pats. I mean coming into contact with tourists or short-term residents. They sound so loud. They ask such naive questions. They mispronounce everything and don't seem that bothered about it. They wander around Bath in lime green shell suits. Once you've lived here for several years it is easy to forget that that is what Americans are like (at least some of them anyway). I find these encounters so uncomfortable because I can't help but ask myself, 'is that what I'm like?'

I am not alone in having this sensation. The other long-term resident Americans I've met over the years have all said the same thing. Hear another American accent in the room at a party? Time to get your coat. Overhear an American order a coffee in front of you at Starbucks? Time to head to Cafe Nero.

A few weeks ago a male twenty-something, with newscaster hair and wearing a trenchcoat, came into my office and sat with one of my colleagues. His first words were, 'I'm here visiting from America, and....' I didn't hear the rest because I was hiding under my desk. No one wears trenchcoats in America. He was wearing a trenchcoat because that's what Americans think that British people wear (you do in movies a lot, to be fair). He was trying to look native. I couldn't bear to even stay in the room so I crawled out from under the desk and made myself a cup of tea. Hot tea, that is, with milk.

I had a similar experience over the last two days, although on a much larger, much more unavoidable scale. It started with the revelation that Tom Hicks, Jr, sent an e ma il t o a Liverpool supporter containing the words, 'Blow me, f***face!' I don't blame Hicks for getting seriously annoyed. The email sent by Steve Horner, although lacking Mr. Hick's profanity, was meant to provoke a reaction. I do blame him for writing something that any half-wit would know was going to get him in serious trouble, and then pressing 'send.' The privileged education his millionaire father has undoubtedly spent on him appears to have been as effective as the average Rafael Benítez signing.

Annoyingly Hicks is not only an American, but as he is from Texas. That makes him a Southerner like me. He should know better. Southerners pride themselves on their manners. They don't swear in public. There is nothing to say a Southerner can't be a brain-dead-lout-who-relies-on-the-nepotism-of-his-tycoon-daddy to get by in life, but he should know to keep it to himself.

Just when I was deciding whether or not to wear a paper bag over my head for the day, the story broke about how Manchester United was now carrying more debt than all of sub-Saharan Africa. Why? Because their American owners, the Glazer family, financed their purchase of the club with huge loans? Yes, that's true, but that's not news. No, the real shocker is that it now appears that the Glazers have been stripping assets from the club. So far, according to an article in the Financial Times excerpted from Pitch Invasion, about £22.9 million. Considering that Man U only made a profit in 2009 thanks to selling players, that's a really brazen act. Some United fans have been fearing the worst ever since the Glazers took over, and now the worst seems to be at hand. United fans have been giving Liverpool supporters a lot of stick this season, but I bet most of them would trade this news for an obscene email from Joel Glazer.

Oh, and where are the Glazers from? Florida. One state down from Georgia. Great.

Although there are now protesters chanting, 'Yanks out!' all over north-west England, I can take some heart in the fact that there are Americans in English football managing not to piss everyone off. Most Villa fans are very happy with Randy Lerner. Stan Kroenke's status as major shareholder of Arsenal doesn't seem to have hurt anyone. By most accounts Andy Appleby is doing rather well at Derby County.

Livepool and Manchester United supporters are going to have some tough days ahead. They are going to have to face up to the fact that their clubs might not be able to outspend the rest of the Premier League for much longer. As they mull over whether or not to stick with a team that might not offer Champions League football each year, they need to realise the problems for their clubs are not a result of having American ownership. The problems result from the previous owners, none of whom were Americans, who sold out to people who didn't give a damn about the club.

Atlanta Beat, or Umeåtlanta Beatrottsklub?

2010-01-10T22:56:00.017Z

After enduring what is (I hope) the last weekend of postponed matches here in England, it is getting harder to find things about Bath City to write about. Fortunately the news coming from my home town, Atlanta, Georgia, is getting downright exciting. The Atlanta Beat have been announcing signings on an almost daily basis. Everything is pointing to the new team having a very impressive roster come Spring. Rather than discuss all of them, though, I'm going to take a closer look at three of the most impressive signings: Ramona Bachmann, Mami Yamaguchi, and Johanna Rasmussen.

If you've really been paying attention to my previous posts about the Beat, you will remember that these three players had been until recently contracted to the Swedish powerhouse Umeå Idrottsklubb (or Umeå IK for short). As well as being the first word I have ever typed using the letter 'å,' Umeå IK is also one of the most successful clubs in the history of women's football. Despite the Swedish league (the Damallsvenskan) being the strongest in Europe, Umeå IK have taken the title in seven of the last ten years. Over the same period they have made five appearances in UEFA Champions League finals, winning two. To put it in perspective, no European men's team has achieved comparable figures (although Manchester United and Barcelona have come close).

The fact that Umeå IK have been such a dominant force in women's football for so long makes the Beat's successful raid on three of their best players hard to figure out. I will admit, when I first saw the players the Beat had selected in the WPS International Draft I thought it looked wildly unrealistic. I thought it looked fairly arrogant as well. Why would three world-class players from an established football giant want to sign up to an unproven WPS expansion team? If it went wrong then Atlanta had a good chance of coming away from their international draft empty-handed - something they could hardly afford to do.

With hindsight it is apparent that the Beat's front office have been very astute (and perhaps a bit ruthless) with their draft picks. Although Umeå IK have been beating all comers for most of the last decade, things have not been going so well lately. The Brazilian superstar Marta left at the end of 2008 to play in the inaugural season of the WPS for the Los Angeles Sol. That was not good, but Marta's departure was overshadowed by enormous financial problems that almost killed off the club entirely.

Umeå IK's general manager, Britta Åkerlund, recently revealed how badly the situation had deteriorated in a recent press release:

'A few months into this job I realized that the club had lived beyond his means for a long time. Just in time for Christmas [2008], we had to choose who would receive pay and who should be without... The focus of my work since then has been much about economics, or rather the lack of finances...In September [2009] the economic troubles culminated when the whole club's existence was at stake.'

The last date is key, because right as Åkerlund was trying to keep her club afloat, Beat GM Shawn McGee and head coach Gareth O'Sullivan were finalising their International Draft strategy. Umeå IK were vulnerable, a fact that evidently escaped the attention of fellow expansion club the Piladelphia Independence.

Before you go feeling sorry for Umeå IK (and painting the Beat as international soccer bullies) it is important to consider a few facts: (1) Umeå IK were suffering from problems of their own making. Åkerlund admits, 'the club had lived beyond his means for a long time.' (2) Umeå IK is not a club that rose to the top of the football world by developing local players. None of the three players that have left the club to join the Beat are Swedish. (3) Umeå IK had also made themselves even more vulnerable by utilising short-term deals. When listing the long series of problems to beset her club in 2009, Åkerlund says, 'the one-year contracts also played a trick on us.' Add it all together and it seems pretty obvious that a mass player exodus was on the cards. McGee and O'Sullivan were just smart enough to figure this out before anyone else did.

All of this is a boon for the Beat, but it can't be forgotten that the result is that three players are now coming to join a new team in a new country. Danish international Johanna Rasmussen is a veteran player, and at 27 should be mentally strong enough to make the transition. Mami Yamaguchi, a Tokyo native, has a huge advantage as she had a stellar college playing career in America at Florida State. It is the teenage phenom Ramona Bachmann that will perhaps have the hardest time making the switch.

Although rated as one of the best players in the world, Bachmann only turned 19 last month. She has been playing in a foreign country for several years, but Georgia will undoubtedly be a bigger adjustment than Sweden was (no one eats grits in either Sweden or Switzerland). The Umeå IK website gives a touching account of her decision process. It appears in Swedish, but here is a translation:

Ever since it became known that the Atlanta Beat could "draft" her, Ramona said she wanted to play with the best players. She wants to be where she thinks she'll get the best chance of making progress towards her goal of becoming the world's best female footballer. At Umeå IK we have really done everything we could to persuade Ramona to stay with us. We have stressed that she would need some additional years to develop in a safe environment before she takes such a big step: not only changing her club, but also going to a new continent and culture.

It's been a long process for Ramona coming to this decision, and she has herself talked of her many tears and great distress. Up to the end of this season the United States was her preferred option, but then for a brief period favoured staying with Umeå IK. It was a personal visit to Atlanta with her dad, however, that finally persuaded Ramona that the U.S. would be the best option for her continued development.

Bachmann's desire to be the best in the world is a constant refrain in her media coverage. Part of what must have persuaded her to put pen to paper with the Beat was the club's slogan, 'the best in the world.' With every new signing this looks less and less like marketing hype. Don't believe me? In four days the WPS will hold its main draft and the Beat still hold the number one pick. Expect another marquee player to be joining the squad soon.

When I first read the announcement that Atlanta had been awarded a new franchise in the WPS I decided to follow it out of curiosity as much as anything else. I have always enjoyed sporting novelties, especially if they happen in my home town. Women's football had never really been on my radar screen. The more I learn about the Beat, though, the more I think that something special may be about to happen in Atlanta. So far there are only promises of good things to come, but as far as promises go these are very beguiling.

Bath Rugby Comes a Courtin'

2010-01-08T22:48:00.014Z

Bath City fans had something to talk about other than snow yesterday. The Times broke a story about Bath Rugby's plan to build a new 20,000 seat stadium in the centre of Ba t h. The frenzied online discussion that followed was not just polite interest in the plans of another local sports club. The Times article cites Bath City Football Club as a potential partner in the scheme. But why would Bath Rugby want to involve City in their new home? Were they just showing some neighbourly concern? In this respect the Times article raises more questions than it answered.

If you were not familiar with the Bath sporting scene it might not seem strange at all for the two largest sports clubs in town to cooperate in a joint venture to create a new modern venue. In reality, though, Bath Rugby dwarfs Bath City in terms of support and financial muscle. Bath Rugby are one of the leading rugby clubs in the Northern hemisphere, if not the world. They not only play in the top tier of English rugby, but also compete almost annually in rugby's version of the Champion's League. They draw fans to their current home, 'the Rec,' from all over Somerset and Wiltshire. Bath City are a football club in the sixth tier of English football. Other than after the occasional FA Cup upset, City never get any national media coverage. Most people who do not live in Bath (and many who do) have never even heard of Bath City. Put it this way: if I stood in front of the Pump Rooms in the centre of Bath I would easily see several people in Bath Rugby shirts within a few minutes. I might wait a day or two before I saw anyone wearing anything with the Bath City badge on it (and when I did see them it is likely they would be someone I know). It is at first glance strange that Bath Rugby would want to involve a relative minnow in their stadium plans, or even that it would occur to them to think of Bath City in the first place.

Before revealing why Bath City are so important to Bath Rugby's proposal, let's take a moment to examine why Bath Rugby are even thinking about moving. After all, Rugby enthusiasts the world over would rank the Rec as one of the most attractive and historic grounds in the sport. There are two problems with Bath Rugby's continued existence the Rec. The first is that it is too small and old-fashioned. With less than 12,000 seats it has less than half the capacity of some of Bath's Premiership rivals. It also lacks the modern facilities to generate non-Rugby revenue from corporate events. Because television revenues are split evenly across the league, the income clubs generate from their stadium will determine their relative financial muscle in the long term. In other words, if Bath Rugby want to remain a top club in Europe, they need to move.

The other problem is that Bath Rugby do not own the Rec. It is rented from a local charity called the Recreation Ground Trust. Not owning the ground outright is bad enough, but it gets much worse. The Recreation Ground Trust not only has an obligation to preserve the Rec as an open space in the centre of Bath for the good of its citizens, it also not allowed to let any sport or organisation dominate the Rec. The exact wording is:

the corporation ... shall not show any undue preference to or in favour of any particular game or sport or any particular person club body or organisation.

Back when rugby was amateur, justifying the presence of Bath Rugby at the Rec was easy enough. Now that they are a world-famous professional sports team, and very little else of sporting consequence happens on the land, the Trust find themselves unable to fulfil their obligations and at the same time fully support their main occupant. It is an untenable position for both parties.

So where do Bath City fit into all of this? Fairly centrally, it turns out.

Bath Rugby have considered building a new stadium on several sites, including venues as far away as Keynsham and Swindon. They have looked so far afield because, being a World Heritage Site, there isn't a lot of free space in the centre of Bath. This new plan appears to have identified such a plot, an area known as the 'Western Riverside.' This area had previously been ruled off limits as the government had pressured the local council to set it aside for new housing. Now, according to the Bath Chronicle, the council might consider allowing a stadium development to take place on the land as long as a comperable area for new housing could be found nearby. There are no large, empty plots of land in Bath anymore, of course, but there is Twerton Park.

Bath City has been playing football at Twerton Park for over seventy-five years. It is a beloved and historic ground, but even its fans (including myself) will admit it is a bit on the shabby side. Redeveloping it to a higher standard has been a dream for many years, but with substantial debts hanging over the club it has always been nothing more than a dream.

Although a substantial amount of money (£2 million or more?) could be raised by the sale of Twerton Park, it is the political cover that City could bring to the table that would be the real asset. If the reported £50 million price tag is correct, whatever financial contribution Bath City could chip in would be appreciated but not essential. With enough graft, Bath Rugby can eventually source whatever money they need. What they cannot do is magic up more land for housing within the city limits of Bath. In this respect, at least, the land of Twerton Park is truly priceless.

What do Bath City have to gain from all of this? A lot, actually. Twerton Park is historic, and has a wonderful view, but thanks to a bulky railway viaduct it is geographically separated from the main part of Bath. Because of this, many Bath residents probably go their entire lives without setting foot in Twerton. City fans often speak enviously of the way Bath Rugby is situated right in the historic heart of Bath. Bath City has suffered a substantial, long term decline in attendance and many supporters blame the club's location in Twerton as the main culprit. The club must escape, they say, or eventually be doomed.

Although I personally love Twerton Park (if a psychiatrist ever tells me to imagine a 'happy place' I will think of being on the Popular Side terrace on a cold Saturday afternoon), I find it hard to deny the logic that the club must eventually find a new and better home. Here are some potential problems that could arise, though, that I think everyone should be aware of:

1) Bath Rugby want a bigger home because they have the fans to fill it. This is not a problem Bath City have. City's average attendance this year is 607, or 3% of the new venue's proposed capacity. It is unrealistic to think that being in a bigger stadium will in itself boost crowds to fill it. Even if City managed to get promoted to a higher league their crowds would likely get lost in rows of empty seats. The average attendance for a League 2 (two levels above Bath City's current level) match this season is 3,820, or only 19% of the new venue's proposed capacity.

2) One of the main reasons that Bath Rugby will want to move is to increase non-match revenue by renting the stadium out for conferences and corporate parties. Bath City will, of course, want the same. After all, City do raise a substantial percentage of their current revenue from renting the facilities at Twerton Park. Having two clubs sharing a ground does not double the amount of non-match revenue, though. Both clubs would have to divide this income, and if Bath Rugby are going to compete with the best clubs in the world it is doubtful they could afford to give up much of it. After escaping from their current fraught relationship with the Recreation Ground Trust the last thing they will want to do is enter another agreement that will put a break on their commercial growth.

3) Any joint venture with Bath Rugby would be difficult for Bath City to extract itself from if things did not go well. Presumably City would end up as a minority partner (hopefully with some very strong protections in place). Whereas now City own Twerton Park outright, and can do with it what they want, a 20% stake in a stadium will not be nearly so liquid. Who would they sell their share to if the need arose? Bath Cricket Club would certainly have no interest. Even if a buyer was found, where would Bath City go? The would be few options. Any departure from Twerton will be effectively permanent. I find that kind of scary.

Althought this news has caused a lot of excited discussion amongst the Bath City faithful, any fears we might have look unlikely to be faced anytime soon. Although it cites no evidence why this would be so, the UK Press Association article on the proposal ends, 'any move to a new site... would be unlikely to happen for some time.' It is a complicated issue involving many organisations and possibly two levels of government. Previous new stadium plans have come and gone. A fan known as 'Stillmansenior' on the Bath City Message Board sums it up well when he says, 'I could fill a scrap book with news items like these, none of which have yet come to fruition.' Eventually, it stands to reason, one will. I just hope it is the right one for Bath City.

The Poverty of Riches

2010-01-06T21:45:00.014Z

One of my favourite books is Winter: Notes from Montana by Rick Bass. It is a diary of sorts about Bass and his partner moving to a remote valley in the Northwestern USA, near Yaak, Montana. He arrives just in time to begin preparations for the ferocious Montana winter. He knows that foot after foot of snow will come and render him housebound for weeks at a time. Because he is an outsider, and from a Southern state with mild winters like myself, the prospect of snow still excites him. It is supposed to be a nuisance, but he can't help but look forward to it like a child anticipating Christmas. When the first snow finally comes he tells his partner Elizabeth, 'We're rich!' He goes on saying this, and feeling richer, each time it snows. It snows a lot in Montana, so it is safe to say Roman Abromovich had nothing on Rick Bass that winter.

I moved to the Montana from a Southern state at almost the same time as Rick Bass. Just a coincidence, and I didn't live anywhere nearly so remote. I still knew exactly what he was talking about. After reading his book I would frequently annoy my native-Montanan roommates by shouting, 'I'm rich!' after twelve or so inches settled on our university town. I loved it.

There is not as much snow here in England (or bears or deer either), but I have always retained my Georgian love of seeing snow....that is, I had always retained it, until I became addicted to football.

Like cheerleaders and tailgate parties, snow is an integral part of American football. I'm not sure if it is even possible for conditions to deteriorate to a point when a game can be called off. It's hard to imagine the Buffalo Bills being nearly as successful as they have been historically if they didn't seem to face the Miami Dolphins at home in the playoffs each season. In association football (you know, soccer) snow is a big problem, though (actually, the real villain is a frozen pitch, but that usually accompanies snow). Once cold weather sweeps across this normally green and sceptered isle each match is subject to a pitch inspection by the referee. If he can't manage to stick his car key into the ground (I don't think there is any reason car keys are normally used other than they are always at hand), the the match will be called off.

Bath City's last two matches have been called off because of a frozen pitch (the latter very controversially). Last night most of the country got hit with about four inches of snow. More subzero temperatures are forcast, which will most likely keep it from melting. Saturday's away match against Hampton & Richmond Borough is in extreme doubt. In fact, if the long term forecasts are correct City may not play again until 23 January when they face Bishop's Stortford at home. That would be twenty-eight days between matches, and a staggering forty-nine days between home matches!

This can lead to some pretty serious problems. Here are a few of them:

1) It may not seem obvious, but forty-nine days without a home match is going to cause cashflow problems for the club. The pressure to outspend your rivals in English football means all clubs sail close to the wind financially. Smaller clubs, like Bath City, find it harder to stay afloat.

2) The team loses momentum. Going into the Christmas matches there was a feeling in the air that City were about to go on a real run of victories and advance into the playoff spots. Adie Britton will have a real challenge to keep the players motivated, especially when it is hard to even hold practice sessions.

3) Football fans, used to a diet of matches once or twice a week, start climbing the walls and being a nuisance to friends and family.

That last one sounds like a joke, but I REALLY DON'T KNOW IF I CAN STAND IT IF I DON'T GOT TO A FOOTBALL MATCH FOR ANOTHER SIXTEEN DAYS!!!!!!

As in most tragic situations, it is always possible to console yourself by finding an example of someone worse off than yourself. In 1963 Britain was hit by what was called 'the Big Freeze.' City fans of the day had to endure seven weeks, from Boxing Day until 9 February, with no matches. That's a full two weeks beyond what we are facing today.

There's nothing to say we won't break the 1963 record this winter, though. I can think of few things more miserable to contemplate. If it starts snowing again in the days leading up to the Bishop's Stortford match, I know what I will say: 'I'm poor! I'm poor!'

Sometimes Football Doesn't Hurt

2010-01-05T21:01:00.014Z

Yesterday was my first day back to work after the Christmas holidays. As I was parking I noticed one of my colleagues had arrived at the same time. He is a dedicated Swindon Town fan, so in order to ease the shock of the first day back at work I decided to walk with him to the office and talk football. There was something significant for us to talk about as well - Swindon's 0-1 loss to Fulham in the Third Round of the FA Cup two days previously. I knew he had travelled to Craven Cottage with his dad to see the 'Robins' take on the Premiership side. Time to say something sensitive and caring to a fellow fan, still fresh in his grief.

'Sorry about you getting knocked out of the Cup by one of Bath City's former players,' I said. Bobby Zamora, the lone scorer in the match, played for Bath City for six matches in the early weeks of 2000 (before Bath City, he was nothing, by the way). This is a fact I've mentioned more and more frequently as Zamora's form has improved.

He smiled, and waved it away. 'It's okay. It was an amazing day!'

The match reports I had read had made it sound like Fulham were very lucky to come away from the match with a victory. Although Zamora had scored fifteen minutes in, the match report I read in the Daily Telegraph was full of phrases like, 'Swindon’s physical presence up front was causing problems for Fulham’s defence,' and 'Swindon looked to catch the home side off guard early in the second half.' Was my friend bitter that his team's cup run had come to an end?

Not a bit. 'There were six-and-a-half thousand of us there, and we never stopped singing. Not once. And when we stopped the penalty right before halftime, it was like we had scored a goal.'

Football is a curious spectator sport. It routinely heaps huge amounts of misery on its most ardent supporters. Anyone who's interest in a team stretches beyond the bounds of 'casual fan' feels real pain any time his team loses. Even some draws are excruciating. There are rare moments, though, when it doesn't really matter if your team wins or loses. Moments when a mere blocked penalty will send you into a frenzy. Moments when being together with your fellow fans and celebrating is enough.

Don't get me wrong - I'm sure there were many Swindon supporters present in Craven Cottage who would have traded their first born for a victory. You always want a victory.

This was an occasion when even without a victory, the Swindon fans were happy with their day. And what is the magic recipe for such moments? I think I have the answer:

Play an away match in the FA Cup against a club at least two divisions higher than you. There is not pressure to win, and you get to savour the moment with the sort of fans dedicated enough to go to away matches. I had such a moment in the First Round of the FA Cup in November when Bath City travelled north to Grimsby Town. It is hard to remember it now, but a half hour before the match, as I stood with the two hundred other Bath City fans who had travelled five long hours on a coach, singing until we were hoarse while the bemused looking City players warmed up, I wasn't really worried about winning. I wanted City to play well. I wanted them to earn the respect of the League 2 club's supporters. Win or lose I was going to enjoy myself and celebrate supporting such a brilliant non-league club. I know exactly what my friend meant.

Of course, Bath City shocked everyone by defeating Grimsby Town 2-0. It was like being at the best party you've been to in years and winning the lottery about half an hour after you've arrived.

But I still knew exactly what he meant. I could understand why he was still smiling two days later.

Shirt Numbering 101

2010-01-04T21:55:00.038Z

When I first started following Bath City I really struggled to figure out which player was which. This was not because I have some sort of problem recognising faces, but because I was confused by the numbering system on the players' shirts. To me there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to it. One player would wear number 10 in one match and be in a 11 the next. Also, the numbers players were listed under in the match program was wrong as often as it was right. In my first few matches watching City I could tell from listening to other supporters there was a really good player named 'Dutch,' but for the life of me I couldn't figure out who he was.

Eventually I figured it out. Bath City use the traditional squad numbering system that all English football clubs used up until the early 90s. All starting players are given a number from 1-11, and players on the bench go from 12 upwards. The numbering starts with 1 for the keeper (no matter which keeper is playing) and increases as you move up the pitch. Defenders tend to be numbered 2-5, midfielders 6-8, and forwards 9-11. Modern playing systems mean that the numbers don't always work out exactly, and 11 is often worn by a midfielder who plays a specialised role called a 'winger.' Richard Evans, the only true winger in the Bath City squad, always wears 11 when he plays. Recently he has not been making the starting lineup, so the number 11 has been moving around (and because no one can be sure who Adie Britton will choose to start in which position, the poor program editors can only take an educated guess who will be wearing what shirt when the game begins).

Now that I know who the players are I find this very useful. When Lewis Hogg comes out in a number 7 I know Adie Britton has decided he will play in mid-field. Against Totten, when he was acted as a striker, he wore 10. When Forest Green Rovers played City in the FA Cup I found their use of numbers in the 20s and 30s really annoying. How I am supposed to know what that player is meant to be doing?

Rovers' use of higher numbers appeared pretentious to me. That is something 'league' football clubs do. In 1993 the Football League moved to a system where each player has his own personal number that he wears in every match. The trend has become for players to have higher and higher numbers. It is has now even become routine to see Premiership players wearing numbers higher the number of high-performance sportscars they own.

While the change may have made it easier for the casual fan to know who's who, any change, regardless of how sensible, will be lamented in sports by nostalgics after a few years. I frequently read articles by journalists extolling the football of a simpler age, when no one got a yellow card unless he drew blood, and shirt numbers never went above 18. 'WHAT ABOUT NON-LEAGUE FOOTBALL!' I want to shout. Well, at least as far as the numbers go.

Football traditionalists may have a tough road ahead if a trend started by Football Federation Australia takes root. They recently experimented with each of their players, across all the various national teams, having a single registered number. This has caused the sort of inflation levels that would sink a small nation-state. Predictably, socceroo Dario Vidosic recently wore a shirt number '101' in an Asia Cup qualifying match. I don't really consider myself a traditionalist, but if I ever turned up at Twerton Park and saw Lewis Hogg in a 101 shirt I might turn around and go home.

American sports have their own traditions when it comes to numbers. In the 1920s the New YorkYankees began wearing shirt numbers to show their order in the batting lineup (and since then Babe Ruth's number 3 has been synonymous with homerun hitting). Because of this baseball uniforms traditionally have fairly low numbers. Boston Braves pitcher Bill Voiselle needed official permission from the National League to wear the number 96. It was granted, though, because the name of his home town was actually Ninety-Six, South Carolina. American Football numbers show the position of the player (roughly) in the same way Bath City shirts do: kickers and quarterbacks wear 1-19, backs wear 20-49, etc. Basketball players can have any number they like as long as each digit is 0-5. This is because when a referee signals who committed a foul he holds up his two hands to show the shirt number (a closed fist represents zero). Whenever Boston Celtics legend Robert Parish fouled the ref would hold up two fists.

Although the numbering tradition in the higher leagues in England has largely disappeared, it is not gone altogether. Liverpool's Steven Gerrard had to wear number 17 originally because his favourite number (8 - an appropriate number for an attacking midfielder) was then worn by Emile Hesky. When Hesky left in 2004, 8 became free. Gerrard has worn nothing else since.

Editor's Note so British People understand the title to this article: The number '101' is the traditional course number for an entry level course at American universities. 'English 101' would be a course for a first year English student. 'Philosophy 101' would be for a first year Philosophy student before he got so confused he had trouble functioning and switched to being an English student.

New Year Begins With Controversy - Part 2

2010-01-03T10:16:00.009Z

In my previous post (New Year Begins With Controversy) I offered to print any official response from Weston-super-Mare AFC. I did receive an email from [name deleted upon request] yesterday afternoon. [sentence removed to protect privacy]

[Name deleted upon request]'s email, entitled 'Your recent blog. has false information.' does find one point that I made that was overstated. Referring to the statement on the WSM website about the Bath City match being postponed, I wrote:

'It then lists no less than three other occasions in the last month when referees have reversed earlier decisions about their club's matches proceding'

Upon further investigation I can find no evidence that one of these matches involved a referee reversing a previous call. This was 2 December home match against Hampton & Richmond Borough. In this instance, as far as I can tell, the referee made a late call due to heavy rain in the early evening, but did not reverse a previous decision.

Further allegations have surfaced, though, about another of the three matches listed on the Weston site. This was the 28 December away match against Woking. I have received this statement second hand, reportedly from a Woking supporter:

'Ref passed the pitch as fine at 1pm, Weston arrived and the ref's view on the pitch suddenly changed! Luckily Woking had got the referee's assessor, who had a word with the ref to set him right, and the game went ahead......'

This sounds very similar to the circumstances that arose on Friday, although as far as I know no referee assessor was present.

Another development in this story is the publication of an interview with Bath City captain Jim Rollo in the Bath Chronicle. Rollo gave general support to Antony Coggins' decision to reverse his previous decision to allow the game to be played, saying:

'We were walking round the pitch thinking "this is not too bad" and were giving them (Weston) a bit of stick because they were saying "no, it’s not too good." The referee’s made the decision and, after training on it, you can see why he’s called it off. When you put your boots on it is a bit different.'

The article is entitled 'Referee Made the Right Call Says Rollo,' but this is overstating his endorsement. He merely says, 'you can see why he’s called it off.' Seeing how Rollo played an excellent match at Woking where there was so much snow and ice on the pitch that the lines had to be painted in blue, it is hard to believe that he would not have wished the Weston match to proceed.

The other interesting point is that Rollo has now confirmed that Weston were lobbying for the match to be postponed (although it is not clear from his statement who exactly was saying 'no, it’s not too good'). Considering how marginal the problems with the playing surface were on Friday, and how Mr. Coggins had endorse the pitch's suitability so emphatically half-an-hour previously, it is hard not to draw the conclusion that Weston did not want to play the match for other reasons. Abandoning this match was not just inconvenient. It also cost many Bath City and Weston-super-Mare supporters a lot of time and money.

As was pointed out in a post on the Unofficial Weston-super-Mare AFC Fans Forum my previous article does not spend much time discussing the culpability of the referee, Mr Coggins. This was mostly because referees do not explain their actions, and as a result there was little to discuss. Although it might not yield any results, I have however written to the Oxfordshire FA refereeing supervisor (where I believe Mr Coggins is registered) for a statement. If something is received I will publish it here.

New Year Begins With Controversy

2010-01-01T16:22:00.024Z

Today's Bath City match against Weston-super-Mare was postponed today in very controversial circumstances. Since Monday's home match against Havant & Waterlooville was called off as well, any decision not to play was bound to upset a lot of fans. What happened today, though, appears to go beyond disappointing and move into the realms of farce, gamesmanship, and shame.

Here is a sequence of events as reconstructed from several eyewitness accounts: club officials and volunteers arrived at Twerton Park at 10:30 am to help remove the ground covers that were in place from the previous night. Although one cover was found to have ripped, exposing a small area roughly three by five feet, the pitch appeared to have survived the overnight low temperatures in good condition. At 1pm the match referee, Mr Antony Coggins from Bicester, arrived and agreed with the Bath City assessment that the pitch was playable. According to Bath City supporter Daniel Tanner (and since corroborated by others present) Mr Coggins said, 'My bed is harder than this I have played on worse pitches than this. I have put the key into the ground and it is fine. The game is okay to go ahead. You have done a great job well done.' He then enquired about where the club had sourced their ground covers.

Fifteen minutes later the Weston-super-Mare team coach pulled into Twerton Park. According to one Bath City volunteer, Weston assistant manager Chris Smith marched straight over to the corner of the pitch where the Popular Side and the Bristol End meet. This is the area of the pitch that normally suffers from freezing, and as Weston have been coming to Twerton Park for seventy-five years, it would have been well known to the Weston management team. Moments later Smith claimed the pitch unplayable, and that his players would be risking injury if the game was allowed to start. Perhaps succumbing to pressure, Coggins held an additional pitch inspection at 1:30pm. Despite the presence of sunshine for the preceding half hour, Coggins chose to reverse his previous decision at 1:45pm and declare the pitch unfit. The Weston-super-Mare squad did not chose to stay around long after this. By the time I arrived at the ground with my two children at 2:20, their coach had already departed for home.

Arriving at Twerton Park today was confusing to say the least. Just as we entered the ground someone came up to me and told me the game was called due to a frozen pitch. I thought he was joking, but then I wondered why a complete stranger would joke with me about something like that. Two more people told me the same thing within seconds. A minute later I saw my friend Dave and his eight-year-old son. They had come for their first ever match at Twerton. I felt embarrassed, but he said they would come back again. As the gates were wide open, I decided to take the boys into the ground and have a look around.

The first thing I noticed upon entering was that the Bath City players were having a practice on the supposedly 'unplayable' pitch. I also met several other frustrated City supporters, and from talking to them, started to piece together the events of the day. In a nutshell, it is widely believed that Weston did not want to play the match. They have had some injuries and have been losing players to other clubs. In fact, according to Daniel Tanner's account, upon hearing the ref's decision to call it off Weston manager Andy Gurney 'rubbed his hands up and down with a smile on his face,' before making a sarcastic comment to City player Matt Coupe. This reportedly led to a heated argument between Gurney and Coupe that City manager Adie Britton chose to intervene in [there is some confusion about whether Coupe's exchange was with Gurney or Smith as they are somewhat similar looking].

I decided to make my own unofficial inspection with the help of a fellow supporter known on the Bath City message board as the 'A18.' We did a circuit of the pitch and spent several minutes around the area that was supposedly frozen. The grass was a bit crunchy, and there were certainly areas that could not be described as 'soft.' It was a long, long, way from the icy tundra that City had played on at Woking just two weeks earlier. It certainly did not look dangerous.

It turns out that Weston have form when it comes to controversial, last-minute postponements this season. On 5 December their match with Eastleigh was called in very similar circumstances, although the scapegoat in this instance was rain. After passing an inspection at 1pm the game looked declared 'on' by the match referee. After Weston's arrival at Silverlake Stadium the referee went on to reverse his decision, in this instance as late as 2:45. Quoting from a thread from the Eastleigh forum:

the pitch was passed as playable at 1.00 and ... it didn't rain from then until 2.45 ... so what changed?... As far as I could see there was no significant surface water on the pitch (none at all at the club house end) and the groundsman indicated to me by attempting to push his heel into the ground that the pitch wasn't particularly soggy either. I suspect that the game wa called off because Weston had a couple of players missing and put pressure on the referee.

Another poster on the same thread wrote:

Well I heard the rumour about Weston officials putting pressure on the ref to call in off from 3 different sources so there is quite possibly some truth in it.

I was alerted to this earlier controversy by 'A18's father, known as the 'A36.' They live in Hampshire and had made a long drive to see today's match. It is supporters like them who were the real victims of this farce. Many people will have travelled long distances at great expense to come to Twerton today. Every effort should have been made by all participants to get the game underway. Whatever their motives, it appears that Weston wanted the match abandoned almost from the moment they arrived. They certainly were not willing to hang around to try to get the match started once the referee had made his ruling. Seeing how football clubs exist because supporters pay to see them play, such blatant disregard for the time and money of those same supporters appears to border on the scandalous.

There have been many reactions to today's events. The fact that City were holding a full training session on the so-called unsafe pitch was a statement in itself from City manager Adie Britton. When asked by a Bath Chronicle reporter, 'you think other parties may have spoken to [Anthony Coggins] about the condition of the pitch?' Britton wisely declined to comment. Speaking of the pitch, Britton said 'we don't feel it is dangerous at all. We wanted to play and we think it's safe. We're going to train on it. We don't have a problem with it at all.' (the full interview can be heard here).

The official announcement from Weston-super-Mare AFC is surprisingly bland considering the controversy:

Today's game against Bath City fell victim to the weather, after another late call by the Referee Mr Coggins, who apparently called the pitch fit for play earlier in the day.

It then lists no less than three other occasions in the last month when referees have reversed earlier decisions about their club's matches proceding [this blog has asked for a clarification of the events surrounding today's decision from the club but as yet has received no response].

As there is nothing official to shed any light on the situation from an official Weston-super-Mare AFC perspective, I have also solicited views from unofficial sources. An appeal for comments was placed on the Unofficial Weston-super-Mare AFC Fans Forum by myself at 4:04pm this afternoon. As of writing ninety-six people have read this post, but so far no one has felt inclined to express their opinion.

Another thread was started by a Weston supporter soon afterwards, however, calling for Andy Gurney to be sacked. 'Angry Gull' wrote:

'Is it true Andy Gurney was too scared to play the game? We can run and hide all we like, but we're certs for relegation and Gurney's cowardly acts, dragging the club even further through the mud, is a total disgrace. He's sending us down as a laughing stock. Time to go....'

Weston's forum allows anonymous posting, however, and it should be noted that 'Angry Gull' is not a registered user.

The same cannot be said of the forum's moderator Sean, though. He has posted on this same thread and this is the closest thing to an official response from Weston to have been made thus far. He wrote:

No it's not true Bath City told us the game was on at 11:09 Bath City lied the ref' called the game off at about 13:55. Bath City jumped the gun, they need the money hence why they were more than happy to tell the world the game as on when in reality it was never going to happen.

I have asked 'Sean' to clarify just who he is accusing of lying, but he has so far declined to elaborate. He appears to have gotten his times as confused as his grammar, but his main thrust (I think), that the referee did not pass the pitch as playable at 1pm is contradicted by two eye-witnesses as discussed above.

The Nedved Juniors and I hung around the ground for about half an hour before we decided to head home. Both children were delighted to receive free doughnuts from the tea-bar staff who needed to dispose of perishable stock. They might have succeeded if they had tried selling them, though. At least fifty City fans had stayed on to watch the practice session.

Little Nedved Junior, who is only five, asked me to explain again why the match had been cancelled. I swallowed my anger for a moment and tried to give him a simple, unbiased explanation. Although I was cross, I instinctively did not want to draw a child his age into the controversy. 'The other team did not want to play because they thought the pitch was unsafe,' I explained.

'Then the other team are scaredy-cats,' he said.

I suppose even at age five children have a grasp of controversy after all.

It was a very frustrating moment when we left eventually. The only thing that kept my mood from getting too low was the wonderful sunshine and clear skies. Not the kind of day you expect a match to be called off because of poor weather. But then, you don't get scheduled to play Weston-super-Mare every day.

Note: Nedved's Notes will still happily publish any official response from Weston-super-Mare AFC that is received in a follow-up post.

Indoor Soccer - Come On, You Know You Want Some!

2009-12-30T10:25:00.010Z

With no Bath City match last Monday, and the chances of Friday's game not 100%, I thought I would take a moment to examine one of my footballing guilty pleasures: Indoor Soccer.

I know that real football fans are supposed to turn up their noses at the indoor game. We should behave like a gourmet chef if he was served a chip butty. I'm not a gourmet chef, though. I like chip butties. I also like indoor soccer.

Between 1984 when the old NASL folded, and 1996 when the MLS began play, there was no serious outdoor soccer league in America. It seems strange to think of it now, but the only 'football' on television was the indoor sort. Clubs, and entire leagues, came and went with alarming regularity, but the sport managed to hang on to the fringes of the American sporting scene by its fingertips. The fast pace, high scoring, and accessible tactics are a potent enough combination (just) for two professional leagues to continue today. The team I keep an eye on is the Milwaukee Wave of the Major Indoor Soccer League (the 3rd incarnation of this league).

I support the Wave for two reasons. One is that they are the oldest professional indoor club in the country. Founded in 1984, they are perhaps the only indoor club to ever field players who were born after the club's founding. The second reason is that they are managed by Keith Tozer. I'm not sure Mr. Tozer and I ever met, but he was the manager at the Atlanta Attack when I worked there briefly in 1989 (I think I handed him a couple of phone messages - see here). He's been in place in Milwaukee since 1992, and since 1996 he's managed the US Futsal team as well. Anyone who has managed to survive, let alone succeed, in such a volatile environment deserves admiration.

The Wave began this season in their third league in three years (the previous seasons being in the MISL, mark 2, and the late 'Xtreme Football League'). They are in second place in the league (of five clubs) with a record of three wins and two losses. Their most recent match was last Sunday, and it was one of those scoring extravaganzas that makes the indoor game so appealing. In extra time the Wave defeated Monterrey La Raza (a Mexican team) 19-17. I've embedded a highlights clip below for your enjoyment.

Here's another reason you might want to get acquainted with the indoor game: all MISL matches are streamed live over the Internet for free! This is through official websites - you will not be needed to log your private details with anyone in China or Iraq. So, the next time you are catching up with the Bath City message board, or looking for Premiership transfer rumours, why not check out an indoor match? The next Milwaukee wave match is tomorrow night on New Year's Eve. They will be taking on the Baltimore Blast at 8pm GMT. Something to do before you go out partying.

Here's the clip I promised earlier. I won't explain all the rule variations, but be aware that a normal goal counts for two points, and a goal from behind the second white arc counts for three (I assume if you are a football purist you stop reading this article long ago). Go ahead and enjoy it. I won't tell anyone.

All Dressed Up With Nowhere to Go

2009-12-29T17:12:00.005Z

Yesterday was a 'bank holiday' in the UK. That's a fancy way of saying it was a national holiday. Football leagues tend to schedule matches on bank holidays because they generally draw big crowds. Unlike other games in the week, they are normally held at the Saturday kick-off time of 3pm.

After rushing through lunch Big Nedved Junior and I headed off to Twerton Park. I was very excited. I had been looking forward to the match for almost two weeks. A victory over Havant & Waterlooville would surely put City in the playoff spots for the first time for two seasons. And after the performance I saw at Woking, and what I read about the one at Weston-super-Mare, I was sure City would win.

Because I knew we needed to leave after the match in a hurry I parked on a side street rather in the club carpark. As soon as I stepped out of my car, though, something seemed wrong. City matches do not draw big enough crowds for there to be a 'buzz' around the ground (well, not often), but my spider-sense immediately picked up on the fact that it was too quiet. I tried to shrug it off, but as we headed down a footpath I got a view of the pitch. I could see there were no players warming up on it. I was trying to find some way to deny it, but the rational part of my brain had figured out there was going to be no match.

My first thought was that I had gotten the time wrong. I had just assumed there would be a 3pm kickoff. Maybe this bank holiday had an evening kickoff instead. Or maybe in the chaos surrounding Christmas I had managed to get my dates really mixed up.

I kept walking anyway, hoping as I got closer to the ground I would figure out what was going on.

After a few more steps I had my second thought. I was wearing a Bath City hat. I had a Bath City scarf on around my neck. I was wearing a Bath City replica kit. Nothing was going to look more pathetic than wandering into an empty football ground obviously dressed for a match that wasn't happening. I stopped to take all my City gear off, bundled it up and stuck it under my arm. As I turned into the carpark I tried walking nonchalantly, as if I was just out for a stroll and just happened to be walking through Twerton Park.

The carpark was empty. No away team coach. No stewards. It meant no match.

To my relief, another City fan arrived. He even had two small children with him. And he was wearing his Bath City gear. We compared notes: we were pretty sure we had the right day and the right time. We walked past Charlie's (which had its shutters down) to the club office. There was a schedule of December matches posted in a window and it did say Havant & Waterlooville, 28 December, 3pm. My companion then stated the blindingly obvious:

'The match must have been called off because of a frozen pitch,' he said.

Of course it was. There had been a post on the City forum about how there would be a pitch inspection at 10am. I hadn't bothered to look. It didn't seem that cold, so I just figured the match was on. Considering that the Woking pitch had had as much snow as grass showing, I had just assumed the match was on.

As Big Nedved Junior and I walked back to our car about a dozen or so City fans walked into the carpark with the same bewildered expression we had had moments earlier. We were all like lost sheep looking for our pasture. Or maybe druggies looking for our fix. Whatever we were like, I was in a bad mood.

I tried to decide if a postponed match was more painful than a loss. As I got in the car I was beginning to convince myself a postponed match was worse. With a day's perspective I can see now that this is total hogwash. Still, showing up at a cancelled match is a major bummer. It is like reaching into the packet for the last Hobnob, only to find that a friend had alread eaten the last one. That's the sort of thing that can put a friendship under real strain.

My relationship with Bath City is not a friendship, however. It is an obsession. I'll be back on Friday (although not before a thorough check online to make sure the match is on)!

A Flag for 'Goldenbuns'

2009-12-27T20:33:00.005Z

While shopping for Christmas presents for Mrs Nedved, Big Nedved Junior and I went into the Guildhall in the Bath city centre and purchased a Latvian flag. Why? It's because of Bath City's recent signing of Latvian international Andres Štolcers. You know, the one that scored with his bum in his first appearance for City.

Anyway, fans have produced flags for our last three foreign players. In addition to the Romanian flag for Florin Pelecaci shown many times on this blog, there is also a Portuguese flag for Sido Jombati, and up until last year a South African flag was displayed for City keeper Paul Evans (who has now relocated to Australia). Since no one else had done a flag for Mr. Stolcers, I thought maybe I should. Just finished painting the 'Andrejs' on it and it is drying on my kitchen floor.

The Pointless Yeild Three Points

2009-12-26T23:00:00.006Z

Bath City defeated Weston-super-Mare 2-0 today in a contest more one-sided than the score reflects. By all measures Weston failed to present any real challenge to City either in attack or defense. City could have notched up more goals, but with an important home match against Havant & Waterlooville in just two days, manager Adie Britton decided to rest key players in the second half. City were happy to sit back and soak up what feeble pressure Weston were able to mount.

Today's fixture was part of a non-league football tradition. All teams are paired up with a local rival to play on Boxing Day, followed by the return fixture six days later on New Year's Day. I'm not sure how this tradition started, but it makes sense as trains do not operate at all on Boxing Day so fans who want to follow their team on the road have no choice but to take to the road themselves. At thirty miles each way the journey to our Somerset rivals was close enough that roughly three hundred Bath City fans made the journey.

I was not one of them, unfortunately. This was due to some of the other traditions of Boxing Day- traditions that I fail to really grasp the importance of.

In America the 26th of December is known as 'the day after Christmas.' It is a day for sitting around the house with your family, eating leftovers from the day before, and watching holiday television (especially American football). It is not an actual holiday, so some people have to work. Although most people end up doing what I've just described it couldn't really be called a tradition. It is just what normally happens, and if you have to miss out on it then it is no big deal.

In Britain the 26th of December is known as 'Boxing Day.' It is a day for sitting around the house with your family, eating leftovers from the day before, and watching holiday television (especially association football). Unlike the 'day after Christmas' it is an official public holiday (or to give it its correct title, a 'bank holiday'). Although some people have to work to keep the country running, having to work Boxing Day is seen as a real hardship. Because it falls on a Saturday this year we will all be getting a bank holiday on Monday to make up for it, in fact. As I have learned, both at home in life in the UK generally, you mess with Boxing Day at your peril.

This was the first year I had expressed any interest in going to a football match on Boxing Day. It wasn't a popular idea. I will admit that if I had gone I would have felt very awkward leaving the wife and kids at home on the day. They were expecting me to be there to eat leftovers and watch telly with them. Even though I don't understand the emotional significance of Boxing Day, I respect it.

I could not go to a football match, but I was at least able to participate in one (of sorts). About the time that Bath City were lining up against Weston-super-Mare, I was involved in some desperate goalkeeping in a nearby park with the Nedved Juniors. Like Bath City, I was more than a match for my opponents (well, they are aged five and eight). Unlike Bath City, I allowed in a lot of goals. That's not because I was letting them beat me (I do suffer from 'competitive Dad' syndrome). My sons always bring two balls with them to the park, and they have realised their best chance to get one past me is to shoot both at once. If I stop fifty percent of them I feel pretty good.

It's a strategy that Weston-super-Mare maybe should have tried. They were outclassed by Bath City from the first whistle. City had several clear cut chances in the first half hour, but it was not until Lewis Hogg's free kick at thirty-two minutes that they were able to take the lead. Gethin Jones headed the free kick to an open Darren Edwards who put the ball in the net. Seven minutes later Weston's shaky defence allowed Edwards a free run at the goal. This ended with him slotting the ball past Weston's keeper, Kevin Sawyer, who was by all accounts having a shocker. City went into the half time break with a 2-0 lead.

The second half started with City again dominating play, although no further goals were scored. City manager Adie Britton had an eye on the home match against Havant & Waterlooville in two days time, so he brought Edwards off at the hour mark so he could rest. Weston made the odd effort on goal, but the game continued to play out with City dominating but not adding to the score. It was, in the end, a comfortable win for City against a weak opponent.

City have a habit of dominating Weston-super-Mare AFC. In the past hundred plus years the two clubs have met thirty-seven times. City have won all but five of those matches (and only lost two). Since City's promotion to the Blue Square South two seasons ago the clubs have met five times. Weston have not only lost all five matches, but have yet to even score against City. If our rivalry with Weston was a boxing match, it would have been stopped long ago.

Weston is a strange club. They barely have any fans. When they came to Twerton Park last season only five of them could be bothered to drive from North Somerset to North-East Somerset to see their team play. They have also avoided relegation twice in the last three years because of other teams folding or withdrawing. Although they are struggling, unsuccessfully, to stay out of the relegation zone again this season, it is still easily possible that they will survive again as long as they avoid the bankruptcy courts. In these tough economic times, if you can stay solvent it turns out it is almost impossible to be relegated.

Weston-super-Mare AFC is a curious phenomenon. Like Boxing Day, their purpose eludes me. And yet, they still remain. Maybe I'll figure them out on New Year's Day?

On the Way to Being the Best in the World!

2009-12-23T20:44:00.021Z

Time for a catchup with my new home town team - the Atlanta Beat!

As explained previously, the Beat are a new team in America's women's professional soccer league (aptly named Women's Pro Soccer or WPS). My last update, in early October, analyzed the recent 'International Draft.' As an expansion team, the Beat were allowed to chose any five non-WPS players in the world to have exclusive negotiating rights with. Setting their sights high, the Beat chose several key players from the Swedish women's football giants, Umeå IK. As they were only receiving rights to talk to these players, and had no guarantee of signing them, I will admit it all seemed a bit fanciful to me. The near total silence from the Beat head office for the following two months was also worrying.

The other WPS expansion club, the Philadelphia Independence, were far from quiet, though. Soon after the draft they announced several headline signings, including USA International (and Maxim model) Heather Mitts. The good news from Philadelphia was so frequent, and lack of news coming out of Atlanta so noticeable, that I began to wonder if my home town's new team was already struggling before a single ball had been kicked in anger. As I learned later, I was completely wrong.

On 1 December, Atlanta Beat owner, Fitz Johnson, announced a partnership with Kennesaw State University to build the world's first purpose-built women's soccer stadium. It will have a capacity of 8,300 and be built at a cost of $16.5 million. The pictures look stunning, and by the time this announcement was made construction was already well underway (with a planned completion of Spring 2010). Although the facility will be shared with the Kennesaw State women's soccer team (the Lady Owls), the Beat will certainly be the primary occupant. Considering that the Beat's previous incarnation (2001-2003 in the old WUSA) had two makeshift homes in American football stadiums, this is an impressive achievement.

Actually, it has taken me a while to get round to thinking it is an impressive achievement. To be honest, my first reaction was pretty negative. Kennesaw State? Kennesaw is not Atlanta. It is an outer suburb of Atlanta, and even saying that might be stretching things. As is probably common for an Atlanta native, my only experience with Kennesaw is from field trips in grade school to Kennesaw Mountain National Battlefield Park. I have no doubt that Kennesaw is a nice place, but I'm just being polite really. I have no idea what Kennesaw is like at all.

It's not a minor point, either. Kennesaw is on the outskirts of a huge metropolitan area. Public transport is not great by European standards, and barely exists outside the Atlanta city limits. While it is perfectly possible for someone from Kennesaw to have a happy working life commuting to downtown Atlanta by car, it is considerably more awkward for soccer fans from other suburbs to get to Kennesaw. The drive from Snellville, another outer suburb, to Beat matches will be almost fifty miles. Another problem is that Georgia's highways are built to help people get into central Atlanta, but not to get from one suburb to another. Residents of nearby Alpharetta are only fifteen miles from Kennesaw as the crow flies, but the only realistic way of getting between the two places is a thirty mile dogleg towards Atlanta and back.

There is one other drawback to Kennesaw which is rooted in snobbery. Big professional sports teams in Atlanta have always played in the downtown area. Despite the fact that precious few people live downtown anymore, it is still seen as the place for proper 'major league' teams. It is possible that by basing itself in Kennesaw the Beat will fail to be taken seriously by the bulk of Atlanta sports fans. In fact, there has never been a successful professional sports franchise based in the suburbs. At first glance, it looks like the Beat have made a serious mistake.

That was my initial thought, but then I started thinking about my time with the old Atlanta Attack, a men's indoor soccer franchise. I worked there for a few weeks during Christmas holidays in 1989 (see here) and by most measures the club was doing well. The Attack had the highest attendance average in their league by a long way, sometimes drawing in excess of 10,000 spectators a match. In actual fact, the Attack's finances were in a parlous state. The main reason for this was their stadium lease. The only arena available for rent in downtown Atlanta was the 16,000-seater Omni Coliseum. Although the Attack sometimes drew big crowds, the average attendance was more like 6,000. It was enough to top the league stats, but not enough to break even on the rental agreement. Basically, every time the Attack played a match they lost money. As there was no media income to speak of, the only revenue the club would ever generate was from matches. In effect the Attack were killed off by playing their matches in the prestigious downtown Atlanta area. I was not there when the club closed its doors, but even in the first season everyone in the front office knew the Attack was living on borrowed time.

Like the Attack, match day revenue will make or break the Beat. There will be no lucrative national television contract. If the deal has been structured in a way to give the Beat a cut of the revenues from the non-soccer use of the stadium (like hosting conferences or corporate parties) then the Beat may end up in a much stronger position than any sports team outside the major American sports leagues. Having to draw people all the way to Kennesaw might be a disadvantage, but it would be easily outweighed by the financial independence this stadium might be bringing the club. There may be no precedent for a successful professional sports team operating in the suburbs, but there is a long history in Atlanta of failed soccer teams who rented the downtown stadiums built for Baseball and American football. If the Beat are going to succeed they won't do it by copying the strategies of their failed predecessors.

So, the Beat have a stadium to play in. Who is going to play in it? At the time of the stadium announcement only three player signings had been announced. And these included none of the Beat's expansion draft or international draft picks. Time to worry? No. Since then five more signings have been announced (including two expansion draft picks: Leigh Ann Robinson and Noelle Keselica). The big announcement (and I mean really big) came just about a week ago: the Beat have signed their first international draft pick. Her arrival could mark a change from expansion strugglers to league powerhouse.

Her name is Ramona Bachmann, and unless you follow international women's soccer closely, you probably don't know who she is. If you decide to follow women's soccer like I have, though, you will learn soon enough. Considered by some to be the second best player in the world after Brazil's Marta (who also played for Umeå IK before being drafted by the WPS's Los Angeles Sol), Bachmann's presence could turn the Beat into a sporting (and marketing) success. Although she is only nineteen she has played in a European Champions League final and been voted Swiss player of the year. The Beat have signed her to a two year deal (which by WPS standards is a long contract).

Things are looking up for the Beat, but there are still challenges ahead. After a season opener in Philadelphia in April, the Beat will not play a home fixture until at least May. This is because they have to wait for the stadium to be completed. Large construction projects, of course, frequently suffer delays and go over budget. Having great players is helpful, but as Real Madrid and Manchester City have shown, it does not automatically make a great team. Besides, at least eight more players need to be signed in the next two months to have a decent sized squad. Oh, and the whole concept of a successful professional women's soccer league is still far from proven.

Still, I think the Beat might be Altanta's best ever chance to have a soccer team with long-term success. Ever since he was awarded the Atlanta WPS franchise, Beat owner Fitz Johnson has spoken of the Beat becoming the 'Best in the World.' This slogan has even been used, with disarming immodestly, as a marketing slogan for the club. It is a concept that seems silly at first, but Johnson is taking steps to come good on his promise. Women's soccer is still wide open - there are no established powerhouses. With the stadium deal and the arrival of marquee players, there is no reason why the Atlanta Beat can't soon be the best in the world. Watch out Barcelona!

Check out my previous articles on the Atlanta Beat: Atlanta Turns on the Cash Taps and Goes Soccer Crazy, The Beat is Back, and The Beat Goes On. The next article will appeal in roughly three weeks after the WPS regular draft in January.