Nedved's Notes Turns Half!

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!

A Player and a Gentleman

Florin Pelecaci and I had a brief chat in the early hours of 17 December on Facebook. This was less than forty-eight hours after he had announced his departure from Bath City, and I had just written an article about it for this blog. I went on to Facebook to post a link to the article on the 'Campaign to Keep Florin at City' group page when I noticed he was logged onto the website's chat facility. I was a bit reluctant to bother him at 2am, but I thought it might be my last chance to speak to him. I decided to give it a try. Typically, he was happy to give up some of his time for a fan (even in the middle of the night).

Of course, the one thing I really wanted to know about was why exactly Florin was leaving Bath City. It had been confirmed (sort of) in the Bath Chronicle earlier in the day that he had left, but there was no clear reason given. Left to their own devices supporters were coming up with all sorts of theories. Most involved his supposed frustration from not having enough playing time. Here is an excerpt from our conversation:

Nedved: Hi florin! I'd love to ask you some questions, but I understand if you don't want to talk.

Florin: Hi Ned. Of course I want. Depends on the questions

Nedved: Yes, I understand. Are you leaving because you are moving to London, or is it a problem with Bath City?

Florin: I'm in London because I don't have another choice for the moment.

Nedved: Okay, are you planning to find a London club to play for?

Florin: Is complicated. I would like to continue play for Bath, but is too long story to talk about this now.

Nedved: I understand. There are a lot of people who hope you will be at the Woking match. I guess you won't be. Is that right?

Florin: I want to go to Woking, but only to watch the game

Nedved: If you come then lots of people would like to say goodbye (if it is goodbye). Please let us know where you go next or what you end up doing. You made a big impression on the supporters.

Florin: I appreciate this. I would like to speak with the fans.

I'll admit, this conversation left me more confused about Florin's departure than I had been previously. Why would he leave if still wanted to play for Bath? It seemed unlikely that he was being dropped from the team. I was impressed that he wanted to come to Woking, but I decided not to publicise this widely. If I was him I'm not sure I would have come. It is one thing to come to a match and sit on the bench or in a directors box. It is another to come and stand in a terrace of fans, none of whom you really know. I thought if expectations were built up too much it might make him look bad if he changed his mind.

Florin did come to the match. I think this took a lot of guts. I can remember being slightly apprehensive the first time I went to a City match by myself, and there was no one s

inging songs about me a few feet away. Still, he came, and he was happy to speak to whoever wanted to speak to him, sign autographs and pose for photos. Before the match fans had signed two flags for him (the Romanian flag with his name down the centre that had been displayed at City matches and a Breton flag which City supporters are partial to because of the black and white stripes). He was presented with these soon after his arrival, and he was still clutching them proudly in his hands when he came up to me and Little Nedved Junior about fifteen minutes into the first half.

We said our 'hellos' and I signed his flag (we had only arrived at the ground a few minutes before kick-off). Once my pen was out this led to several people wanting to use it to get Florin to sign their programs. He graciously signed all of them. All the time this was going on a very exciting match was happening ten feet in front of us. I tried to follow the game, but my amateur reporter's instinct asserted itself and I pulled out my Dictaphone. I wanted to ask Florin a few more questions about his departure and his plans for the future.

Conducting an interview in the middle of a live match isn't a perfect environment. The crowd around us was noisy as well, which made it hard to hear him (and even harder to hear my recording). What follows as quotes is mostly right. I asked him about leaving again:

Florin: I didn't leave Bath City for another club, I leave...are you recording?

Nedved: Yes, is that ok? It is just to make sure I get it right.

Florin: [nodding] I leave Bath City.....I don't know, I don't know what to say. But not because I have another team.

I decided not to keep pressing him on his reasons for leaving. Whatever the reason he clearly felt awkward about it.

Nedved: Is it awkward being here with all of the fans around you?

Florin: I like it. I like it more on the pitch, but I like it.

Nedved: Some footballers say they hate watching their team play.

Florin: I don't hate, but I have emotion. I'd feel much better on the pitch.

Nedved: Do you want to find another club? Are you living in London at the moment?

Florin: Yes, I'm living in London. For the moment I don't have another club. I would like to, but I didn't play so how can I get a club in England? I could return to Romania or Hungary.

Nedved: I hope you don't mind just asking, but did you leave bec ause you weren't being played?

Florin: It is one reason, but there is a more important reason I decided to leave early.

Nedved: It was very good that you came today.

Florin: Thank you. It's not much. It is close to London and I wanted to come.

Nedved: It means a lot to a lot of people. A lot of people are sad that you are going.

Florin: I'm very proud of the flags. It is the first time in my life when I have received my flags.

At this point we were interrupted by Little Nedved Junior, who wanted a Mars bar. As you can tell from the disjointed nature of my questions, it was very difficult conducting a proper interview, so I gave up recording from this point. I did chat to Florin on several more occasions during the match, though. Although I still did not yet understand why he had left, it was clear it was complicated. I decided not to mention it again, but it did come up once more when we were discussing what level club he might play for in the future.

I suggested that with his style of play he would probably be more comfortable in a higher league that was less physical and more tactical. He agreed, but did not think the prospect likely. He said if he could not get playing time with a club in the sixth division (Bath City are, in effect, in the sixth level of English football) then how could he get on a team in League 1? I asked if he thought his time at Bath City had possibly hurt his prospects. His answer to this question effectively answered why he had left Bath City.

He said that no, he did not think playing for Bath City was a mistake. He said if his situation changed he would be happy to play for Bath City again, if the manager would want him back. Once he said this everything made sense. There is something in Florin's personal life requiring him to be in London. He may have been frustrated with his lack of playing time at Bath City (and we know he never intended to make a career at City), but he did not leave because of a problem with the club.

We spoke about several more things during our chat. He was very impressed by Woking's number eleven. He asked me if I knew his name. I did not, and Woking's otherwise excellent program failed to list players by number (I now know this was Giuseppe Sole). As it was the twentieth anniversary of the revolution in Romania that had ended Communist rule, I asked him if he h ad any memories of the period. He would have been only nine, so it was a bit of a hopeful question. He didn't have much memory of the revolution itself, but he did tell me something very interesting he had done the previous year. As he explained in his previous interview, he had been a national gymnastics champion at age eight. Soon after this he had been invited to show off his tumbling skills for the benefit of the then dictator Nicolae Ceauşescu. About a year later Ceauşescu and his wife were killed by a firing squad.

At the end of the match I asked him if he had any reaction to Bath City's victory.

'I am not surprised,' he said. 'Bath were much better organised.'

He was right, of course, although up to then I hadn't really thought about it. It was a chaotic match played on an icy surface. Once I thought about it, though, of course he was right. That's how City's midfield had been able to assert control on large stretches of the match.

As the elated City fans streamed out of the ground we sang, 'Doo, doo, doo, Florin Pelecaci!' We sang this despite the fact that he had not played, nor contributed to the momentous victory we had watched. He had, however, contributed to a very special afternoon. I would be surprised if there was a single City fan who did not speak to him, shake his hand, or get an autograph from him. If there was, it was certainly not for lack of opportunity. I've seen sportsmen patiently humour their fans before, but Florin was not humouring anyone. His smiling expression showed openness and humility. He was, in short, a true gentleman.

Baring a return to Romania or Hungary there can be little doubt that he will not be signed soon by one of the many London clubs. When this happens he is going to make some manager look like a real genius. I suspect that once he has settled in someone's starting lineup, on some cold Tuesday evening when Bath City are not playing, he will see some familiar people in the crowd. They will be people wearing black and white stripes, and we will all sing 'Doo, doo, doo, Florin Pelecaci!'

City Till I Die (Possibly From Exposure)!

Bath City defeated Woking 3-1 at Woking's Kingfield Stadium yesterday. It was one of the best 'away days' I've had yet as a City supporter, although not for the usual reasons. Many people, on and off the pitch, went beyond the call of duty to make it a great day. Most importantly, however, the Bath City players put on an amazing display of skill and determination in very testing conditions to win a vital three points. It was such a good day it was easy to forget how cold it was. Well, almost.

After City's 5-0 hammering of Woking just three weeks ago, nothing was going to keep me away from this return fixture. Actually, something could have kept me away from this fixture, but after agreeing to take along my five-year-old son, she decided to let me go. This would leave her with only one child to look after (and as anyone with two children or more will tell you, only having one seems holiday). Getting "Little Nedved Junior" to want to come along was easy enough. I just told him we were going on a train ride. And would have lunch at McDonald's. Job done.

Despite snow and cold temperatures rendering much of Britain's transit useless yesterday, we had an incident free journey to Woking. The only worry on the way had been whether the match would be called off. Up until the previous afternoon I had assumed it would not go ahead. Most of the south-east was covered with snow and the temperature the previous night had been minus four degrees Celsius. The brave folks at Woking FC, however, must have worked their socks off to keep their pitch playable. It passed an inspection on Friday afternoon and, while as we were pulling out of Basingstoke station, I received a call from a fellow supporter to confirm the match was definitely on. It turned out that seven of yesterday's ten league matches would be postponed because of poor conditions. A huge amont of credit should go to the ground crew at Woking FC for making it possible for the match to go ahead.

After the unavoidable visit to McDonald's we set off for Kingfield Stadium. I had only a badly printed set of instructions I'd found on the Internet. Like most English cities, Woking has dispensed with all street signs, which made the instructions worthless. Luckily the city fathers of Woking had decided to set up some signs pointing the way to 'Woking FC,' so instead of having to swallow my male pride and ask for directions, I instead guided Little Nedved Junior along a pleasant walk through the back streets of Woking. He enjoyed it because we passed a post office and he found a lot of elastic bands. All was going well until we made a sharp turn at one of the signposts. For a moment I thought something had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

Unbeknownst to me, the Woking Borough Council logo is pretty much the same as the Woking FC badge. I assuemed the turning led into Woking FC's Kingfield Stadium. In fact we were actually walking into council-administered Woking Park. The stadium was on the other side of the park. Expecting to see a bustle of pre-match activity we instead saw a frozen, snow-covered football pitch with what appeared to be a Woking FC sign in front of it.

'There's nobody here,' Little Nedved Junior said, with his typical deadpan delivery. Mistaking the logo on the sign for the Woking FC badge, I really did think someone had made a terrible mistake for about two seconds. After a moment, though, I read the sign properly and figured it out. In my best grownup voice I said, 'Oh, no, this isn't the football ground. It must be farther along.'

Walking through a snow-covered park is a very pleasant way to reach a football ground. Certainly, for Little Nedved Junior it was a highpoint for his day that rivaled the train ride. It only took a few minutes before he started throwing snowballs at the back of my head.

Relaxed and happy, we arrived at Kingfield Stadium. After paying our admission (£12 for me, but as is often the case, Little Nedved Junior was waved through for no charge) and getting a program (£2.50), I decided to go for a wander and get my barrings.

Except I couldn't. Kingfield Stadium was very nice, but I soon leaned it is a very quirky football ground. Instead of having the run of all the terraces as is normal in non-league football, we were restricted to one end of the ground. One side of the ground has a series of small, seat-only areas (including the delightfully named 'Moaners' Corner'), but access to these is restricted by a series of gates. The other side of the pitch is a very narrow terrace, which for this match, was blocked off entirely. This meant the standing fans, both home and away, had access only to a medium-sized terrace behind the goal. All of this was overshadowed, though, by an enormous, Premiership-quality stand on the opposite end of the pitch. It is, without doubt, the most impressive seating structure I've seen in non-league football. The fact that it so easily outclassed the rest of the facilities, and that it had been placed at a vantage point spectators normally try to avoid, gave the whole ground a surreal quality. It was kind of like happening upon a garage full of Morris Marinas and discovering a Ferrari hidden on the back row.

The corner of the ground we were allowed to access was very jolly, though, and surprisingly full of Bath City supporters. Little Nedved Junior and I found a bit of terrace in the front where he could see just in time for kickoff. Up and to our right were two flags that the City fans had signed and covered with messages of thanks and good luck. These were for recently-departed City player Florin Pelecaci (see here). He had said he would come to the match and stand with the City fans to show his thanks for their recent support. I wondered if he would actually come. Perhaps hoping to conjure his appearance the fans sang, 'Doo, doo, doo, Florin Pelecaci!.' I strained my neck in all directions to see him whenever the ball went out of play.

To my surprise, City had come out of the dressing room in last year's away kit. These sport a very unfortunate shade of blue, sort of like you might see on one of those Morris Marinas mentioned previously. Unlike our current home and away kits, it had the advantage of being nothing like the Woking home kit. To the credit of non-league football generally, it is nothing like anyone's kit. Still, it would do in a pinch. 'Blue' also made an appearance as the colour of the line markings on the pitch. Despite the best efforts of the ground crew there was still a fair amount of snow on the pitch.

Woking began the match like they were out for revenge. You could hardly blame them - they are a decent team and they had been humiliated by City three weeks previously. Woking's Guiseppe Sole put a header over the bar within a couple minutes. City keeper Ryan Robinson was required to make a save just afterwards. With City's defence simultaneously struggling to keep their footing and keep Woking at bay, it seemed like just a matter of time before a goal was conceded.

While this was happening, much to my surprise, Florin Pelecaci did appear on the terrace standing amongst the Bath City fans. When Florin had announced his departure a few days previously it had provoked a huge, somewhat emotional, response from the City supporters. A Facebook campaign had sprung up and fliers had been printed to try and convince him to stay. Florin had been gratified by this show of support he had decided to come and make his goodbyes in person. His appearance led to several verses of 'Doo, doo, doo, Florin Pelecaci.' Florin smiled, but looked embarrassed. After spotting me snap a picture of him he quickly made his way over and shook my hand. 'Hello, Ned,' he said.

I started writing this bog on a whim one evening, and the fact that some people bother to read it has been a pleasant surprise. The idea that it would lead to a player I greatly admire approaching me and greeting me by name is still a bit of a shock. Florin knew my name because he had very kindly allowed me to interview him in October (see here), and it occurred to me that because his stay had been so brief he probably knew very few supporters by name. I am a completely amateur journalist, but I had enough composure to grasp the opportunity to talk to Florin more about his decision to leave Bath City. I switched on my Dictaphone and started chatting away.

Because it is was a very important, and fairly lengthy conversation, I am going to write about my talk with Florin in another post. I will describe just how odd the rest of the first half was. Florin was interrupted regularly by supporters asking him to autograph copies of their program (including me, of course) and other well-wishers who wanted to shake his hand. I was really keen to speak with him as much as possible, but I had Little Nedved Junior on my other side needing my attention from time to time, and a really important match was being played a few feet away. There was also a rather large post between me and the pitch. With leaning to my right to speak to Florin, stooping down to my left to tend to my son, and constant moving back and forth to see past the pillar, I spent most of the first half swaying to and fro like a drunken camel. Fortunately City somehow managed to keep Woking at bay during their initial onslaught. As the half progressed the balance of play began to even out.

Twenty minutes into the half Lewis Hogg slotted the ball to Darren Edwards on the left. He clattered into Woking's Mark Ricketts and the ball rolled out of bounds. The ref blew his whistle and pointed in the direction of the goal, but from that distance it was impossible to see what he meant. 'Is it a penalty?' I asked Florin. 'No, it was out.' he said. He appeared to be correct, because there was next to no reaction from any of the players. To our surprise, though, Kaid Mohamed, sporting a off center mohican that resembled a small planetary ring, lined up to take the kick. He executed it perfectly to the top right corner. The Woking keeper, Ross Worner, did not have a chance.

Suddenly, very much against the run of play, City were in the lead. The City supporters went crazy. For the first time we sang what would end up being the refrain of the afternoon: 'Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way, oh what fun it is to watch City win away, hey!'

The singing was loud and constant throughout the match. It was the best performance by City supporters since the Grimsby FA Cup match. Loud vocal demonstrations are becomming increasingly common at City matches, home and away, and a semi-organised hard core of 'ultras' is forming among the supporters. Hopefully this is a trend that will grow and grow. All the standards were sung, including 'We Love Jim Rollo,' and 'I wish I was a Pornstar like Matt Coupe.' A new addition for the match was 'Dodgy Haircut' to the tune of 'Dodgy Keeper.' This was sung whenever Kaid Mohamed ran past our terrace, much to his amusement.

Woking returned to the ascendancy following the goal, but only for a few minutes. The City players began to play more and more confidently. To my great shock, City stopped playing like a team trying to battle against an icy pitch. Instead they began to revert to their normal style of midfield dominance and neat passing. It was hard with the conditions, and mistakes were made, but they began to create real chances.

Just before the half, one chance came good. Sekani Simpson launched a long cross from the far side of Moaners' Corner. Darren Edwards was able to leap high enough to direct the ball towards the goal, but it clipped the bottom of the bar instead of going in. Woking's keeper fell to the ground after mistiming his jump and the ball bounced up onto Edward's middle. Reflexively, Edwards nudged the ball over the prone keeper and into the goal with a pelvic thrust. He then took a tumble himself. From the other side of the ground it was impossible to see what had happened. The jubilation of the City players and the defeated body posture of the Woking players made it clear enough, though. City went into the intermission with a two goal lead.

After purchasing a cup of tea for myself and a Mars bar for Little Nedved Junior I returned to the terrace to chat with my fellow City fans. We all agreed that the Woking fans must feel very hard done by. Both teams had played well at times, and perhaps Woking's dominance had been longer. A two goal lead for City was indeed lucky. Woking also seemed to be suffering a rash of freak goal concessions. In the previous encounter City debutant Adrejs Stocers had scored with his backside after blocking a kick from the keeper. In this match Darren Edwards had scored with his crotch.

I had half expected Florin Pelecaci to slip out quietly at half time. He had made his appearance, and I wondered how comfortable he actually was signing autographs and posing for pictures with so many people. The second half kicked off with him still among us, though. He stayed for the entire match.

The first twenty minutes of the second half were pretty even. They were not a boring sort of even, though. Despite the patches of snow and the dropping temperature both teams played the sort of exciting end-to-end football you hope for on a sunny April afternoon. There were dramatic saves on both sides. Jim Rollo timed a tackle perfectly to stop Nathaniel Pinney from what I had thought was a definite goal. After conceding seven straight goals to City, Woking finally got some luck that wasn't bad luck. Ricketts took a long free kick from just outside the centre circle. Robinson lept and got his fingers on the ball, but his feet shot out from underneath him. Chris Holland got to the ball before it trickled into the net, but he approached at an odd angle and ended up kicking the ball into the net himself. It was an own goal, but Woking now had a chance again with over twenty minutes left to play.

Perhaps anticipating a verse of 'You're Not Singing Anymore' from the Woking fans, the City supporters began singing again straight away. Likewise, the City players appeared to shrug off the setback. They resumed pressing Woking like nothing had happened.

This payed off a few minutes later. Kaid Mohamed broke free and appeared to have a good chance of scoring. Perhaps unintentionally, Woking's Aswad Thomas pulled him to ground by his shirt sleeve. This set up a City free kick from the edge of the box. Mohamed lined up to take the kick but ran over the ball instead. Lewis Hogg ran forward to take the strike. Woking's wall had started to break up as soon as Mohamed had run past. Hogg found a hole and the ball went into the right side of the net chest high. Worner probably never saw the ball. I grabbed Little Nedved Junior and jumped up and down with him in my arms to celebrate. As he had been concentrating on a packet of fruit pastels, he was very non-plussed by this.

The third goal effectively killed the game off. Woking managed a few more attacks, but their energy faded with every passing minute. City came close to scoring towards the end during another cameo substitution by Andrejs Stolcers. A sharply hit shot was easily caught by Worner. Perhaps he should have tried his backside again.

The third goal also kicked off a party scene among the Bath City supporters. 'Six Points, Eight Goals' was taken up to the tune of the Pompey chimes. There were also many more renditions of our version of 'Jingle Bells.'

As the whistle sounded I felt a real sense of joy. There was not a City supporter who would not have taken a point gladly going into the match. At best, we had hoped somehow City would eek out a narrow win. To win 3-1 was extrordinary, even if luck had played a significant part. The City players and supporters both applauded each other. City manager Adie Britton, with a huge grin on his face, ran towards our terrace and threw his cap into the cheering supporters. It went straight towards Florin at first, but curved at the last moment to the feet of Little Nedved Junior. I picked it up and handed it back to Florin. For a reason I could not articulate, this seemed like the right thing to do. We were all so appreciative he had come.

Florin accepted at first, but a few seconds later handed it back. He insisted I take it. 'Adie meant it for the fans,' he said. It was an action, I have learned, is typical of Florin.

Still singing, still cheering, the City fans streamed out of Kingfield back into Woking Park. Little Nedved Junior and I parted with the main group at the turning for the rail station. It was really, really cold by this point, but it didn't seem to matter to us that much. I was elated by the victory; he frolikced in the snow. I plopped Adie Britton's cap on his head. It was a perfect day.

Multumesc şi Noroc, Florin!

A little less than forty-eight hours ago Florin Pelecaci, Bath City's popular Romanian midfielder, entered the following status on his Facebook account:

I'm thinking to my future.....I've seen my flag in my wall and I'm moved. What can I say... I had nice moments with Bath City thanks to my collegues and the fans for support, but unfortunatelly for me, I think is imposible to play anymore for Bath.

Although it is not entirely clear from what he wrote why he felt he had to leave Bath City, it was still pretty clear he would be leaving.

Pretty clear, but not definate enough for many fans, including myself. Within hours of the discovery of this statement a 'Campaign to Keep Florin at City' Facebook Group had been started. As of this writing there are forty-eight members. One ambitious Florin fan has even printed flyers to distribute at the Woking match to try and persuade Florin to stay.

At 2 o'clock this afternoon the Bath Chronicle published an article on its website confirming that Florin had indeed left Bath City. Or, it sort of confirmed it. Actually, it only confirmed that he probably would be leaving. City manager Adie Britton was quoted saying:

Florin's left. He's living in London with relatives having moved his family over here and is uncertain as to whether he is going to play football here or seek education. He's going to have a think about it over Christmas but it looks unlikely he'll play for us – if he does play it is likely to be in the London area.

So if Florin still wants to play football (which would appear likely) and is unable to find a London club to take him on (which would appear to be very unlikely) he might come back to Bath City. Realistically, though, it appears that we have seen the last of a player who has brought a huge amount of excitement to the Bath City season so far.

But why can it be said that Florin Pelecaci has brought a lot of excitement to the Bath City season? And why has the news of his departure caused such an emotional reaction from so many supporters? This is, after all, a player who has made a mere five starting appearances and scored just a single goal. Considering that two of the appearances (and the goal) were against lower-league opposition in cup matches, it would be easy to see this as just the predictable departure of a fringe player.

It would be easy, yes , but wrong. Florin did something special, something that every football supporter wants to happen: he captured our imagination. His arrival was sudden and unexpected. He had never played in England before, and there was precious little information to be had about his career in Hungary and Romania. A Youtube clip (now removed) was published on this blog showing him scoring a wondergoal from the halfway line, and his friend and team mate, Sido Jombati, vouched for his abilities. That was pretty much it. He was a man of mystery!

He joined Bath City as it was struggling through a serious injury crisis. If he had not turned out for the match against Dover Athletic then it was not clear how Adie Britton would have fielded a full squad. I did not see him at this match, but I did see him the following week in the FA Cup match at Willand Rovers.

He was obviously different. He warmed up differently. He ran differently. His touches were different. His first meaningful pass was a beauty: a pinpoint diagonal cross onto the forehead of Darren Edwards, who needed only to gently nudge the ball to beat the opposition keeper. A few minutes later Florin scored his own goal. It was a Premiership-worthy shot from twenty-five yards out into the left corner of the Willand net. I was so stunned I almost missed the series of somersaults he performed on the pitch immediately afterwards.

Everyone who saw that match was convinced Florin was a player of quality. He was nominated for the FA Cup Player of the Round award. The Bath City online forum was awash with excitement. The fact that City went over a month without a home match only served to heighten expectations.

Part of Florin's appeal, however, must have been the somewhat tragic figure that he cut. Bath City is a great non-league club, but Florin had played at the top level in two other European countries (Hungary and Romania). He had been managed by Chelsea great Dan Petrescu at Unirea Urziceni. What was he doing in the Conference South?

As he explained in an interview for this blog, Florin had been the victim of bad luck, a bad run of injuries, and some misleading promises by a football agent. He wanted to bring his family to the UK and break into a League 1 club. To the fans this seemed likely - Bath City would just be a stepping stone into a big club and a new career. Sadly, and in line with his luck over the last few years, it didn't work out.

After being dropped for another FA Cup match for a more physical mid-fielder, Florin never recovered his place in the starting lineup. Reduced to a substitute, his most notable further appearance was again in the FA Cup against Forest Green Rovers. After some impressive work with the ball he received a pass on the right of the goal, with only the FGR keeper between him and an equalising goal. Perhaps he rushed the shot, although it was not clear he had time to take an extra touch. For whatever reason his shot went into the side netting, and City was eliminated. If he had scored, surely he would have earned back his starting place? Surely he would have played in the Third Round of the FA Cup, perhaps against Notts County? Would he have been noticed by a league side in such a high profile match and offered a contract ? Sadly, we will never know.

Although I did interview him, I cannot say that I really knew Florin. I did have a twenty minute conversation with him, of which the sole purpose was to get to know him as much as I could. I was impressed by his earnestness and his dedication. I was impressed by his gratitude to the supporters, and by his willingness to be frank and forthcoming with one posing as a journalist (me). Most impressive, though, was his determination to play better for Bath City. Everyone was singing his praises, but Florin was annoyed with himself that he was not playing better.

Florin will leave behind a sizable fan club who will follow his progress with whatever club he plays for next. I was told by a supporter of Diósgyőri VTK, Florin's former Hungarian club, that no one was much bothered when Florin left that club after a long run of injuries. 'On the whole, we don't cry after him,' he said. Well, at Bath City, we may not cry after him, but we will miss him very much.

As the title of this post says, thank you and good luck, Florin!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Let me see it,' I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Staines Massive Impassive

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

Well, I thought so, anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Nedved Interview: Sido Jombati & Florin Pelecaci

Sido Jombati extended his hand, and with a warm smile on his face said, 'My name is Sido.'

I couldn't help but laugh. I had just contacted him a few days ago to tell him what a big fan I was, and to request an interview with him for this blog. I certainly knew who his name. I was to learn, though, that Sido is as unassuming as he is friendly.

He had suggested we speak after the AFC Totton match. 'How will I find you?' I asked. He wrote back, 'Anytime, just call me and I will come to you.' It sounded too easy and I worried it wouldn't' happen. In the end, however, I 'called to him' while he was having his post-match meal in the club bar, Charlie's. After he had finished we stepped out the side door. I turned on my dictaphone and tried my best to pretend like I knew what I was doing.

The reason I wanted to interview Sido was simple. Besides being an exciting player to watch, he is a rare example of an overseas footballer in non-league football. I wanted to know exactly how he had come to play football for Bath City. Sido is also central to the mysterious appearance of Bath City's other foreign player, Florin Pelecaci. Reportedly, Florin had started training with City after being recommended to Adie Britton by Sido. But how did a twenty-two year old from Portugal come to know a twenty-nine year old first-division footballer from Romania? It all seemed a little bizarre, and so far the local football media had failed to discover any sort of explanation.

I contacted Sido without really expecting him to agree to be talk to me. I am, after all, just some strange blogger. I was very pleased when he agreed, and even more pleased when he asked Florin to speak to me as well. Having never interviewed a footballer before I was pretty nervous, and began peppering him with random questions as soon as he introduced himself.

Sido Jombati was born in Lisbon in 1987. He was on the books with Sporting Lisbon as a youth player until he was sixteen. Finding his opportunities in Portuguese football limited, he was encouraged by a family member to try his luck in England. I was surprised to hear that one of the main reasons for the move was money. 'The pay in the Portuguese second division is like the Conference in the UK,' he said. I assumed I had misunderstood him, so I had him say it again. I had not misunderstood. 'The pay I get at Bath City is about the same as the second division in Portugal.'

After a short spell with Exeter at age eighteen, he signed for the then Conference National side Weymouth. He moved to Basingstoke last season, where he was voted 'Player of the Year' by the supporters, and finally to Bath City last summer. One of the reported reasons for his move to Bath was family living in Somerset, but when I asked him if he had any family locally he said he no longer has any family living in the UK.

'Do you miss Portugal?' I asked.

'Yeah, a lot.'

I asked him if he went back regularly. 'I used to but not recently. Now that I live in Bath, though, I hope to start flying from Bristol'

I asked him about the different styles of football played in Portugal and England. 'Playing in Portugal is easier,' he began. 'You have a lot more space. England is harder. I prefer the ball on the floor. Here you don't have any space. You don't have time for two touches. This league is very tough. If you try to take one or two touches you just lose the ball.'

At this point we were joined by Florin Pelecaci. I was more nervous about talking to him because I hadn't spoken to him directly before. I also wasn't really sure how interested he was in being interviewed by a supporter. I was only nervous briefly, however, because despite coming across as a serious and earnest person, he was remarkably friendly and unguarded. I asked him how he liked playing for Bath City.

'I like it. I like Bath, only today I am not happy because I did not play.'

I asked him why he thought he had only been used as a substitute.

'It was something to do with a tactical problem. It was [Adie Britton's] option.'

The big question for all Bath City fans, however, was why Florin had come to City and what his plans were. Not knowing how to build up to this exactly I just dived right in and asked him.

'Firstly, I want to do my job for Bath,' he began. 'To play very well in the [FA] Cup firstly. This is our chance, the Cup.'

After pressing him on how long he expects to stay in Bath and where he would go next he said, 'I will stay here for the next two months for sure, and I don't know in the future what I will do. It depends on my football, on how I will play, and it depends on what the club wants for me. At the moment I hope this level can help me to go where I want.'

Where does he want to go? 'League 1, because it is comparable to the top of Romanian football.'

Sido and Florin then explained to me how they knew each other and how Florin had come to wear black and white stripes.

During Sido's time with Sporting Lisbon he became close friends with a Romanian trialist named Bogdan. Bogdan was not signed by Sporting, but he and Sido stayed in touch. Bogdan now lives in London where he plays for step-five non-league club London Tigers. Bogdan, it turns out, had a cousin named Florin Pelecaci.

After an unsatisfying year with top flight Hungarian club Diósgyőri VTK, Florin was looking for a new employer. He was tempted to London by an agent who claimed that he could arrange trials for several League clubs. These failed to materialise. Instead of giving up and going home he got in touch with his cousin Bogdan. Bogdan introduced him to Sido, who arranged for him to start training with Bath City. The training went well, and he was offered non-contract terms in mid-September.

It was good to discover the mystery of Florin's sudden appearance, but I was left with one important question.

'When is Bogdan going to come and play for Bath City?' I asked.

Both Sido and Florin laughed. 'He is a very good player,' Florin explained, 'but for the moment he needs to play more. He has spent a lot of time working and not playing.'

Sido popped back inside Charlie's for a few minutes to talk to some friends and I continued talking with Florin. He was born in Baia Mare in Northwestern Romania, not far from the current Hungarian and Ukrainian borders. His athletic ability was noticed at a very young age. At six years old he began training competitively in gymnastics. Two years later he won first prize for his age group in the individual floor event in the Romanian national championships.

'Is this how you learned to flip?'

It was indeed. Florin had stunned the travelling Bath City fans at in his second match against Willand Rovers. He celebrated his twenty-five yard goal with a series of somersaults and a flip. He had repeated the feat at home in the recent Basingstoke match.

'Against Basingstoke it wasn't my goal. It was an own goal, I think. But I felt I must do this [flip] because it was 2-2 and I knew we could win this.'

It certainly excited the City faithful, and has already become an iconic image (thanks to a well timed snap by City webmaster 'Yuffie').

'The flips are very comfortable for me. When you learn them at a young age you learn them for life,' he explained. 'I competed until I was ten, but all the records were lost when the Communists were overthrown in 1989.'

I was going to ask Florin more about the flip, but he furrowed his brow and began to speak very seriously. He had something he wanted to get off his chest.

'So, I want to say that sometimes in the newspapers I see a lot of nice words about me. I don't know if I deserve it. I like this, but I believe I have to be more modest. I am happy for this, but I know this is how English people like to talk about their players. I'm not as good as they say exactly. Against Basingstoke I did not play very well so I find it embarrassing, this "magic of Pelecaci."'

Having been one of the people who had written about how well Florin had played against Basingstoke, I was surprised. He continued:

'Too many nice words and I played a shit game. I can play better than this.'

Florin was adamant that Bath City fans have not seen him play at his best yet. Considering how impressed City fans have been, they will consider this good news. It was apparent to me that Florin drives himself very hard, and he is not happy unless he performs at his best.

Like Sido, Florin finds the style of play in the lower English leagues frustrating. Speaking of clubs in Romania he said, 'We like to put the ball down every time. It doesn't' matter if you are defending or not, we try to put it down and try to pass. But here it is very difficult for me because the play here is not my style. Every time they try to hit it with their heads and I don't know exactly what to do. You don't have space and you start to get nervous. Sometimes I am not able to concentrate when the ball comes to me because I am not in the game [because of the ball being in the air so much]. But I hope it will get better.

'[Bath City] has such good players, technical players, I do not know why we play this way. Why when it was 3-0 do we not put the ball down? When the game is 1-0 [in Romania] we pass to try and keep the ball away from the other team to disrupt their rhythm. It is not the style in England, although the English style is also good.'

I asked Florin to tell me about his career before Bath City. His first real success was with Gloria Bistriţa, where he played in the Intertoto Cup. In 2006 he signed for Unirea Urziceni, where he played under former Chelsea star Dan Petrescu ('you played for Dan Petrescu?!' I asked). At the end of the season Florin was approached by another club, Progresul Bucureşti. 'Dan said to stay at Unirea,' he explained, 'but I preferred another team for much more money.' Soon after his signing, however, Progresul began to have money problems and he was released. Progresul were soon after ejected from the Romanian league for financial reasons.

He then spent one season with Diósgyőri VTK, where he was plagued with injuries (all of which, he assured me, are well behind him). But he did have one spectacular moment: a goal from the halfway line a la David Beckham. I asked him to tell me how it happened.

'I had been man of the match in the game before, but I started on the bench. At the end of the first half DVTK were losing 3-0. I was put in at forty-six minutes. I saw that the keeper was out of position so I tried to score. Too many times I tried to score like this, but this time it went in. I scored again a few minutes later but I was ruled offside. The final score was 3-2.' (you can see the goal here).

Sido rejoined us, and as the FA Cup draw was to take place the following day, I asked who they would most like to draw in the next round. They were both unanimous: the best team possible.

Sido said, 'Against good teams I always play well. Against bad teams, I don't know. I played well against Newport.'

They both preferred to at least a League 1 side. League 2 clubs, they believed, play the same style as in the Conference South.

I changed the subject and asked them what they thought of the Bath City fans. I was surprised to find out that this is a subject that both Florin and Sido feel strongly about. They were both adamant that their experience with English fans is very different from what they have experienced previously.

'I can feel the fans are so close,' Florin explained. 'I felt I did not play well, but everyone clapped. It's so nice to have fans behind you. It is the most important thing in football. Without fans you play for nothing.'

Florin then explained how he meant this literally. 'Fans give you the reason to fight. In Romania we have teams in the second division with no fans at all. It is so sad to see. They don't come to the game.'

I asked Sido what he thought of the Portuguese flag with his name on it that is hung at every match. He beamed with pride. 'When I score I will go to the flag,' he said.

I asked Florin if he would like a Romanian flag. 'Yes, of course. When I heard he had a Portuguese flag flown for him I was so surprised. So nice, so nice. It means the fans love him and it is important for him.'

At this point I began to run out of questions. I think it was a loss of nerve more than anything. I finished by asking Florin what he prefers being called. I had heard the players refer to him as 'Pele' and 'Dan.' Sido called him 'Florence' in one of his emails to me. He said he answered to all of these, but 'my game is important, not my name.' I thought this summed up Florin very well. He is very nice, very approachable, but very focused.

I thanked them both profusely for talking to me, especially Sido. He graciously offered to arrange interviews with anyone else from the team. He seemed to really mean this.

I walked back to my car feeling slightly giddy. The whole experience had been way out of my comfort zone and very different from what I expected. I had thought I would get a few minutes at best and that I would only get polite, pat answers to my questions. Instead I had spent nearly half an hour with two genuinely friendly and helpful people. Meeting your heroes is supposed to be disappointing. I am pleased to say, though, that if your heroes are either Sido Jombati or Florin Pelecaci this will not be the case.