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.

Nedved Misses Match Voluntarily - Shock!

Bath City played a scoreless draw with Bromley on Saturday, and I was not there to see it. It was the first home match of the season I have missed (except for one pre-season friendly). You might wonder what possibly could have kept me away from Twerton Park at such a critical juncture in City's season. In a word: sweeties.

Not for me, of course. No, my attendance at the Bromley match was really scotched because of its coincidence with the modern sugar-rush festival known as Halloween. Mrs Nedved had, very inconveniently, made arrangements for the whole family to go to a neighbourhood Halloween party that began at 4pm. To be honest, though, I didn't really want to miss seeing my kids put on their costumes, or holding their hands as they went trick-or-treating through the neighbourhood. Besides, I will be missing the town Bonfire Night festivities when I take a fifteen hour day-return trip to Grimsby on Saturday.

Having, more or less, voluntarily excused myself from attending the match was a very odd feeling. Although I deny it, Mrs Nedved claims that if I do not attend a match I am very irritable and cranky (I really do deny it, but the idea that 'you might as well go because if you don't you will just be insufferable' is a useful concept). For the first Saturday in weeks I was not counting down the hours until 3pm. When the hour did arrive I found myself unprepared. I fired up the computer in a hurry.

And....not much happened. Sean, the ever-reliable relayer of game updates, had taken the day off to go watch Leeds United. I was hardly in a position to object, but it made the already disjointed matchday experience even more disjointed. Fortunately there were several other people online who were getting texts from fans at the ground. Between them and the Non-League Vidiprinter I was able to at least follow the score (although without much detail).

And....still not much happened. Like I said, it was a scoreless draw. When you aren't getting much more than scoring updates a match with no score is simultaneously nerve-wracking and tedious. The only real news that came through was that the pitch was slippery from rain, Edwards was having a rare poor game, the attendance was 585, and that no goals were scored in the first half.

Before the second half could kick off I was out of the house and down the street at the Halloween party. Although it is an ability I am not very keen on developing, leaving my computer with a match hanging in the balance could be considered a personal triumph. I had also made a decision not be a football bore at the party. I was not going to talk about Bath City all evening. Childcare, politics, cooking -- all these would be fine. I do have more facets to my personality than the ability to discuss recent events at Twerton Park.

I realised, though, that it is perhaps too late to avoid being tagged as a football bore. I might as well admit to myslef that I am an addict. Everyone else seems to have come to this conclusion, anyway. As soon as I was standing among my fellow dads in my neighbour's kitchen people starting asking me about Bath City. It's what I'm known for. 'What's happening with Bath City?' 'How is the season going so far?' 'Did you go to a match today (it's 4pm, how could I have gone to a match today?!!)?' Surrounded as I was by a group of well-meaning enablers of my addiction, I didn't hold out long. Besides, we didn't want to talk about childcare, politics or cooking. We were men with families who work full time. What were we realistically going to talk about besides sport? The more I talked about Bath City, however, the more keenly I felt the lack of information about the ongoing match.

At 4:30 Mrs Nedved approached me. 'I wish we had the camera to take some pictures of the kids all dressed up,' she said.

At this point I had, if I may be immodest, a moment of pure genius. 'I can pop back home and get it for you if you like?' I said.

Mrs Nedved smiled and thanked me for being so helpful. I left our neighbour's house in the rare position of being able to find out the final score of the match and collect brownie points at the same time! Because Mrs Nedved could not remember where the camera was I could plausibly be away from the party for fifteen to twenty minutes while I 'looked' for the camera (I knew exactly where it was, of course). I reached the house with ten minutes remaining in the match. And....nothing much had happened. It was a 0-0 draw, remember?

Knowing that the final score was definitely 0-0, however, is infinitely more satisfying than not knowing. After fifteen minutes online I quickly got the camera from where I had left it after the Totton match, and went back to the party. I was greeted by a grateful Mrs Nedved. I have no shame.

The trick-or-treating was a roaring success. The fact that Big Nedved Junior does not like dressing up, and that Little Nedved Junior's costume had largely unravelled during the party did not stop either of them from taking a colossal haul of sugary goodness. We took lots of pictures and eventually returned home with two children wired on excitement and empty calories. After a much later than normal bedtime they were both eventually packed off to bed, and I finally got a chance to get some detail about the City match.

Despite the lack of scoring, those attending reported that it had been an exciting affair (you can read all about it here). City in fact came close to winning he match in the closing moments and were only denied by two excellent stops by the Bromley keeper. Strangely, hearing this made me feel slightly disconcerted. I had sort of congratulated myself on choosing a boring match to miss. Perrott played well, evidently, and Stuart Douglas is making progress on returning to match fitness. I felt slightly put out that players were having important matches without me.

I had not missed a significant event in my children's life, but I had missed a not insignificant moment in the Bath City season. It was a decision I would make again a hundred times over, but as I reflected on the day I realised that being a football supporter is not really about being entertained. The true fan, and here I mean the hardened addicts like myself as opposed to the casual observer, wants to see the story of each season unfold before them. We want to see our heroes progress, or, if must be, fail. If a match is uneventful we want to see it be uneventful. When it is glorious we will feel it more keenly for having having endured the drudgery that preceded it. If a scoreless match turns out to be unexpectedly entertaining I want to know that from first hand experience rather than taking the word of another.

I consoled myself with a toffee from the kids' stash. I know that I cannot attend every match. I know that there are things in life much more important than football. And I can stop any time I like. Really.

City Beat the Ottoman Empire of Non-League Football

Bath City beat Weymouth 2-0 Tuesday night. Weymouth is the sick man of the Conference South this season, so City fans would really have been hoping for a more emphatic victory. Last Spring, however, City lost 0-1 to last season's sick man of the Conference South, Fisher Athletic. This occurred at a key moment in the season and may have cost City a playoff spot. Scarred from this experience, most City fans will be grateful for the three points, however they came. It also means the club's winning streak is extended to four matches.

Here is a quick synopsis of the game: the first half was scoreless, and if anything Weymouth played slightly better. In the second half Weymouth defender David Obaze was sent off for his second yellow card. His height had been thwarting City in the air all evening, and his absence tipped the balance City's way very promptly. A free-kick from Lewis Hogg reached Chris 'Dutch' Holland, who easily put the ball in the net without Obaze in place to stop him. Fifteen minutes later City doubled their lead with a combination of passes from Hogg, Adam Connolly and Mike Perrott, who reached Darren Edwards for the five-yard finish. By all accounts neither team played very well (for a more thorough match synopsis click here).

For City, not playing very well is slightly disappointing. The team's attention is understandably focused on the FA Cup fixture with League 2 Grimsby Town in ten days time, but it is important that they continue to improve their form in the league. For Weymouth, though, not playing very well is a triumph! For almost a year now Weymouth have been one of the worst teams in all of football. Merely playing 'not very well,' as opposed to abysmally, or tragi-comically, is a big improvement. This was the Terras third game in a row playing 'not very well.' Their fans must be hoping that soon they will turn the corner and just be playing 'indifferently.'

Weymouth had better turn that corner very soon, however, or they may not get the chance. The day after City's victory the following message appeared on its official website:

Weymouth Football Club regrets to announce that Notice of Intention to Appoint Administrators was filed at The Courts of Justice, London earlier today. The Board is now working with the proposed firm of Administrators and the Terras Supporters Tust [sic] to try to find a way to enable the Football Club to remain in existence.

The Club is now losing money on a week-to-week basis and without financial support from outside the Club it is unlikely the Administrators will be prepared to enable the Club to continue to trade in order to avoid increasing losses to creditors.

Anyone interested in assisting the Club or acquiring the Club out of administration is encouraged to make contact with the proposed administrators : Benedict Mackenzie 62 Wilson Street London EC2A 2BU without delay.

Basically, the club have two weeks to come up with a lot of money or go into administration. The club have so frequently tried to tap funds from the local business community one would think there won't be any more forthcoming. Once they go into administration the administrators could possibly sell off the club's only asset: Wessex Stadium. This would make the Terras homeless and effectively kill off the club in its current form. Things are looking pretty bleak.

The decision to take the club full-time in 2006 while still a non-league club, a choice very few non-league clubs have made and not regretted, appears to be the origin of the club's financial difficulties. The club's front office really began to fall apart in January of this year, however, when chairman Malcolm Curtis stepped down. He described Weymouth as the 'Afghanistan of non-league football' at the time. I'm not sure what that means, but it doesn't sound good. Since then the Terras have had all their players walk after non-payment of wages, lost a match 9-0 to Rushden & Diamonds after fielding a team consisting of youth players, and tried to cash a fake cheque from a fantasist who claimed he was going to bail out the club's finances. It looked like things could not get any worse, but in the last few days Malcolm Curtis has decided to call in a £240,000 loan to the club from his time as chairman. This action has forced the club to seek administration as outlined above. Apparantly Curtis wants Weymouth to be the 'Iceland of non-league football' as well.

I will admit that I feel quite torn on how to react to Weymouth's plight. It is a straightforward case of a club spending beyond its means. Paying full-time salaries to players before it is absolutely necessary is a foolish gamble, and it is satisfying to see foolish gamblers fail. What's more, it is hard to be sympathetic to such an inept group of administrators (although, to be fair, the ineptness partly stems from there being too many changes in administration). Natural justice requires that Weymouth FC be forced to shut up shop.

There will be innocent victims, however, and this is what makes me hope that natural justice does not prevail. I mean, of course, the fans. There are some that would say they are just as culpable as the club's board. They enjoyed the fruits of false prosperity as the Terras jostled for position in the Conference National standings. I do not believe this is fair. Supporters revel in their club's success, but they are, ultimately, spectators. They do not make the decisions that trade short-term glory for long-term disaster. The more alert fans may suspect that finances are being over-extended, but they have no way to act on this suspicion. The sporting happiness of all supporters depends utterly on the financial competence of a club's directors. Whatever the cause, the Weymouth board has let their fans down. Despite several fan-led attempts to save the club, ultimately they have no choice but to watch helplessly from the sidelines.

It is tempting for Bath City fans to be smug as we watch our old rivals flounder. City supporters are lucky because we follow a club that is not beholden to any 'sugar daddy,' nor living beyond its means (at least we hope so!). Is this, though, because City fans are somehow superior to our counterparts in Weymouth? If City started down the path to financial disaster would we recognise it? Would we somehow find the means to stop it?

Spare a thought for my fellow blogger, Jimmy the Cukoo, who has been chronicling the entire saga on his Terras Blog. After months of frustration he posted the following statement last week:

This should have been a bit of fun, a website poking fun at Dorch and Yeovil but there is no fun in being connected with this club anymore and I wonder for my own sanity and that of my close friends and family whether the time is right to say "no more".

If Weymouth do shut up shop in two weeks time I won't be celebrating. I'll be thanking my lucky stars that I've never had to contemplate making a post like that.

City Jump for Joy!

There are times when being a football supporter is a thoroughly dreadful experience. There are times when it feels like fate has ripped your heart out of your chest, stomped on it, and then done a little dance on it. These times are called losing. If you are lucky these times only occur a bit less than half of the time.

This was how I felt on Saturday afternoon at about half past three. Basingstoke Town's Jahson Downes had just scored his second goal of the day against City. It was a wonderful goal: a powerful shot into the top right corner of the net. It would make any club's season highlight reel. It was so good it got more than a smattering of applause from the City fans. It was heartbreaking.

Saturday's game was City's first home match in five weeks. Although the intervening matches had included two away league defeats, these had been close run things against the two teams at the top of the table. There had also been two convincing FA Cup victories, and with them the sense that City's season was gaining a bit of momentum. A win at Twerton Park, which so far this season has been the scene of several mediocre performances, would be a huge boost for the players and the fans. After just one win in their last five matches, Basingstoke should have been vulnerable. Someone forgot to tell Baskingstoke this, though. They played the first half like seasoned champions.

As I contemplated another league loss and a further slip down the table Little Nedved Junior told me he was hungry. Little Nedved Junior spends most matches telling me he is hungry, even when he isn't. At five years old, he still sees football matches as an opportunity to hit me up for as much sweets and crisps as he can. I think he believes I will buy him just about anything to keep him from pestering me during a match. He is, of course, totally correct. Sometimes though, when I'm feeling particularly glum, his demands are a welcome distraction. As there were only a few minutes left until half time I offered to take him and his brother over to the snack bar to buy him chips before the queue got long.

As luck would have it, City's play began to improve once we began our journey. As I awkwardly tried to watch the match, avoid tripping on the Bath end terraces, and not lose either child, Gethin Jones missed a pomising looking header. Basingstoke were unable to clear the ball, though, and moments later Richard Evans served the ball up to Gethin again. This time he made it count. City had gotten a goal back!

I have a feeling that that goal may be the turning point of Bath City's season. It has been a season of brilliant performances that often fall just short, or are undermined by defensive errors. It has also been a season, however, of determined effort in adverse situations. I had seen City fight back in matches this campaign they would have crumpled in last year. All the despair and upset I had been feeling in the first half hour lifted the moment Gethin's goal went in. I had a feeling City could win this. And what's more, I knew if they could win against Basingstoke from two nil down they could beat anyone. As the halftime whistle blew I was as elated as I had been depressed only minutes before. I didn't even mind the grumpy snackbar service (I swear if they ever smile at me I will fall over from shock)!

My elation was evidently not shared by Bath City manager Adie Britton, however. He is quoted in the Bath Chronicle as going 'ballistic with the players.' It is hard to imagine someone as affable seeming as Adie Britton going ballistic. It must be like getting a dressing down from Rolf Harris. Whatever he said, though, worked a treat. City began the second half as they had finished the first. Basingstoke may not have realised it yet, but they were in trouble.

After getting our chips the kids and I had moved to the 'family stand.' We did this partly because we usually rest there for some part of the second half, and parlty because it was, for once, actually full of families. About a hundred school children and parents had shown up on the back of some excellent organising by the City marketing team. It was not just wonderful for boosting the attendance figures (685). The children had spent much of the first half cheering on their newly adopted club. Being down two goals had not phased them. I hope they keep coming.

Sitting among the children was not quite as pleasing experience as listening to them earlier had been. A gang of children frolicking in an Autumnal afternoon is pleasant from a distance, but not the best environment for watching a football match from. It felt a bit like we were sitting in the middle of a school playground.

I was not so distracted, however, so as to miss City's equaliser. Not only was this City's first home match in five weeks, but it was also Florin Pelecaci's first match in front of the home crowd. After the almost constant hype that has surrounded him (of which this blog has contributed) the Twerton faithful would be expecting a world-class performance. He had so far produced some good crosses in the first half, but nothing with the sort of wow-factor everone was hoping for. Within minutes of play resuming this changed. Aftere receiving a well-placed pass from the ever present Richard Evans, Pelecaci penetrated the Basingstoke defense like a hot knife in butter. The only problem was he failed to find another City player to help him out. Just when it looked like his run was going to fizzle out the ball rolled into the net off of Basingstoke's Sean Hankin. Technically it was an own goal, but anyone to anyone watching it was clearly a goal that Pelecaci had created. He certainly did not hold back with his goal celebrations as he treated the Popular Side terrace with a tripple summersault!

After the kiddies had finished their chips (and after I had removed copious amounts of ketchup from Big Nedved Junior's replica kit) we moved over to the Bristol End terrace. City were dominating play now and I wanted a clear view.

As we all know, the diet of the typical football supporter is largely comprised of hope. This is especially true for those of us who are blessed with the chance to follow a non-league side. Hope will keep you going in adversity, but has the unfortunate side-effect of needing a lot of adversity to flourish in. Hope is great when it is fulfilled, but, although we hate to admit it, hope will as often as not let you down. Hope is sometimes a burden.

As I stood there on the terrace watching City take apart the Basingstoke defence I began to feel something different from hope. I felt belief. When Chris Holland had a third goal disallowed by a dubious linesman's call I was not phased. I knew City could win anyway. I believed they would. When Basingstoke captain Sean Hankin was sent off for his second questionable yellow card, I was pleased, but not ecstatic. City would win whether or not their opponents were a man down. When Gethin Jones did score the go-ahead goal it just seemed like the inevitable had occurred.

I don't think I was blessed with any superior intuition. By any rational standard I was just being delusional. I think I was picking up a sense of belief from the players, however. City were playing like a team that knew it could win, and their belief was strong enough that it could be felt in the terraces. Basingstoke didn't have a chance.

At this point both Nedved Juniors needed to go to the loo. I don't like leaving a match for even a few moments because I am convinced something momentous will happen while I'm gone. Sure enough, upon my return, I find out that Basingstoke had scored an equaliser from yet another defensive lapse. Strangely, I didn't feel worried. It was slightly annoying that City were going to have to score another goal now, but they clearly would be able to do so. Perhap's I was just deluding myself, but it felt like it was just going to happen. It's a good thing I don't gamble.

Two mintues into injury time, Basingstoke midfielder Tom Williamson handled the ball outside his own penalty box. This was the moment that was meant to happen. The free kick was taken by Adam Connolly, flicked by Chris Holland, and slotted into the net by substitute Mike Perrott. Everyone in the stands (except the dozen or so visiting fans) went nuts. I think it was at this point that I lost my voice.

As we filed out of the terrace I felt happy but spent. I counted the children several times to make sure I had not lost one. I was thinking that when I got home it would be nice to lie in a dark room with a damp flannell on my forehead. Belief is exhausting!

Sing When You're Drawing!

Last week I posted a question on the Bath City forum: "how many points do we expect to get from the two upcoming bank-holiday weekend matches against Dorchester and Worcester City?" Twelve of the thirteen respondents predicted the full six points. As I rode with my friend Mark on the way to yesterday's match, though, City had already managed to drop two points away to Dorchester. Neither of us knew more than the score from that game. You would think that we would feel unqualified to make predictions about the second match without really knowing what happened in the first, but you would be wrong. After some discussion we determined that City should win, but that the attendance would be a disappointing sub-500 count.

One of the problems with following a team in the Blue Square South is that there is very little information about opposing teams. Unless you have seen a team play recently you can only guess how good they are. The non-league media, although much appreciated by its readership, doesn't have the financial muscle to follow many teams in depth. Until you reach the Blue Square Premier the only way most fans can size up the opposition is to look at the standings, read through a few forums, and take an educated guess.

As Worcester had yet to win any of their first six matches Mark and I came to the considered conclusion that City should thrash them soundly. That is, of course, unless they are one of those teams that has just had a bad start and are due for a win. Or unless they are one of those innumerable clubs that aren't actually any good but City still struggle to defeat anyway. In a nutshell, we didn't have a clue.

Once we arrived at sunny Twerton Park we settled into our match day routine: we bought programs from outside Charlie's Bar, I bought a '125 lottery' ticket, we paid our admission and squeezed through the claustrophobic, Victorian-era turnstiles, and moseyed over to the popular side for our pre-match cup of tea.

While sipping my tea I learned from a fellow fan that Mark Badman had been one of the scorers against Dorchester, but that he had also left the pitch with a groin strain. Chris 'Dutch' Holland and Richard Evans were still out with injuries as well. Add in the semi-permanent lack of a regular keeper, and City's squad was looking a bit threadbare. Because common sense takes a holiday when I enter Twerton Park, I took in this information and drew the exact opposite conclusion of what a sane person would. My reaction to the long list of walking wounded was that the team would receive a confidence boost from winning without so many key players. I suppose being realistic isn't what I come to football matches for, really.

The first half an hour yesterday's match will not make it into any end-of-season highlight reels. Neither team played with distinction. Although there was one incident that almost led to an own goal against City, Worcester never appeared on the verge of scoring on their own merit. City kept possession for long stretches of play and managed to keep the ball on the deck much of the time. Despite this, though, they somehow managed to play in a disjointed style. Perhaps it was the absence of the increasingly vital Mark Badman, but City appeared to be taking up the familiar role of the superior team that cant' score.

Midway through the half, though, something remarkable began to happen off the pitch. The City supporters opposite the Bristol end goal began to sing. I have heard the occasional chant in my time at Twerton, but it has never lasted more than a few seconds. This appeared to be different. This noise continued beyond brief passages of play. When a song finished sometimes a new song would be taken up. For the first time in my brief stint as a fan, Twerton Park sounded like the league grounds on television and radio.

I love almost everything about non-league football, but there is one thing where league supporters have us beaten cold. English football league crowd noise is one of my absolute favourite things to listen to. I often tune in to 5 Live football commentary even when I have no interest in the match at all - I just love hearing the atmosphere at the ground. It is one of the real jewels of British sport, and one that is mysteriously absent from most non-league matches. Some away fans sing (and City fans sing passionately when away), but the numbers are never large enough to have the desired impact. Perhaps it is the smaller crowds, or perhaps it is the sensibilities of the supporters (unlikely as we are hardly sensible), but I have yet to go to a non-league game with anything like a real league match atmosphere.....until yesterday!

As a relatively recent City fan, this was a great experience. I have heard that City matches in the past were always really noisy but that it had died off in the last few years. This happened, I'm told, after a group of the noisier fans called the 'bedsheet boys' had been given a lot of stick from other fans and stopped coming. I don't know why, but some of them had returned after a long absence. Personally, I don't think they could have returned too soon. It could have been a delusion on my part, but as the singing continued and grew more confident it appeared that the City players were responding and attacking the Worcester goal more aggressively.

Singing doesn't prevent defensive errors, we were to learn. A Worcester player managed to get control of the ball on the right side of the goal line and chip a looping cross over Steve Perrin to give another Worcester player the easiest of strikes. I don't mean to be unfair to Worcester, but it was a lucky goal. It is the sort of goal that City have been conceding regularly this season - against the run of play and preceded by awkward and hesitant defending.

That was depressing and you might think this dampened the crowd's spirits, but within moments of the goal going the impromptu choir began 'When the Stripes Go Marching In' for about the fifth time of the match. I won't lie and say that the singing made me feel okay about the goal - I felt pretty depressed. Still, there is nothing like a bit of defiant noise to take the edge off of emotional pain. At half time I found myself felling less glum than I might have otherwise. A bit anyway.

As I meandered around the terrace with Mark I decided that if I won the £100 prize from the '125' lottery half time draw I would still call it a good day. But I didn't, and I did not win the £25 second prize, or the bottle of wine either. Some day I'm bound to win it. I consoled myself with another cup of tea.

After the interval both City and the bedsheet boys switched sides, both concentrating their efforts on the Bath end. Typical to this season's form, the City players played with a passion and intensity, now that they were behind, that was marvelous to behold. Ironically, if you want an easy time against Bath City this season the last thing you want to do is take the lead. Once that happens all the players step up a gear and start playing for their lives. It is only after you concede the lead to City that their confidence really falters and the momentum shifts against them. I'm not sure what to make of it, but it could be worse.

You might wonder with all of my descriptions of aggressive, intelligent play how is it that City have not won every game? I ask myself this often, to be honest. Despite the welcome addition of Kaid Mohamed, City still appear to lack the ability to capitalise on their possession consistently. The mid-field is brilliant at getting the ball up to the penalty box, or deep into the opposition corners, but at that point the creativity usually falters. The fact that play has improved significantly but results are more or less the same as last season is a frustration to fans and players alike.

But the key thing here is that play has improved and City are a much more attractive team to watch, even when they are not playing their best. Early in the second half there was a good five minutes of play where Worcester were repeatedly unable to clear the ball out of their half. City got in position for cross after cross. The singing was at its most intense at this point as well - it felt like the crowd was pushing for the players to score and they were responding (again, this might be just what we like to think but its how it seemed). I really wanted to join in, but I was in a group of much quieter fans ten yards down from the noisier crowd. I couldn't quite manage the gumption to sing alone by myself, although I did manage a few bars of 'Come on City!' under my breath.

Worcester eventually did clear the ball, but only briefly. Sekani Simpson, one of the best ball control experts in the non-league game, snuck the ball deep into Worcester's right corner and around a defender. He managed a sharp, downward cross which was met equally sharply by Mike Perrotts extended right foot. It was one of the best volleys I've ever seen and the Worcester keeper, Ben Hinchliffe, had no chance whatsoever. The goal was so breathtaking I forgot for the first few minutes that City was no longer behind. Okay, it may not have been the most amazing goal in football history, but it was darn good and would have most league strikers envious. We were all happy, anyway.

Perrott nearly put us ahead a few minutes later. A well placed corner reached him in front of goal. He managed to head it on target and with a lot of power, but Hinchliffe managed a brilliant deflection over the bar. It is a good thing Hinchliffe can manage brilliant deflections, actually, because I've never seen a keeper so inept at kicking. I'm not exaggerating when I say most of his long kicks went straight out of bounds. Only two or three managed to reach a player on the pitch. With a foot like that you know he must be a pretty good shot blocker to earn his place.

City kept pressing ahead, but the mid-field began to falter. Both clubs settled in for a draw in the last five minutes (although I don't think City did this intentionally). Perrott hobbled off with a strained ankle a few minutes before time to a loud cheer from the crowd. Hopefully he won't be added to the growing list of walking wounded.

As the whistle blew full time I felt mixed emotions. It was good to see City battle hard for the point, but I also felt uneasy watching them struggle against a team who is at the bottom of the table. Considering the injuries, a draw may have been a good result. Having gone into the weekend expecting six points, though, a meagre two seemed cold comfort no matter what the circumstances were.

But the 'bedsheet boys' made up for much of my disappointment. That, and the higher than expected attendance of 620. We should be attracting closer to 800, to be honest, but City's gate has gone up every home match this season. I hope the trend continues. I also hope the singing will continue. I have determined, though, that there will, at least, be one more voice contributing at the next home match against Eastleigh on Tuesday.

Come on City!