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

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

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

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

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

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

-Thanks,

Jim

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Bath City Rampant!

Bath City defeated Woking 5-0 on Tuesday night. This was amazing, but to explain it properly I am going to have to delve into the art of metaphor.

Football is often referred to as a 'cruel mistress.' Any City supporters who were unsure why this term is used were given a good example three days previously. City were eliminated from the FA Cup by Forest Green Rovers, despite being by far the better side. In fact, 'cruel mistress' doesn't seem like a strong enough term. Football, on this occasion, was more like a evil, sadistic girlfriend who dumps you by text and moves in with your best friend.

After such an emotional bruising most people tend to buy a tub of ice-cream and sit on the sofa for a week watching reruns of Dad's Army. City did not. Three days later they came out fighting against the third best team in the league, a team who had only conceded six away goals all season, and crushed them with a five goal shellacking. After the upset of the FA Cup match, it was the equivalent of smartening yourself up, going clubbing with your mates, and pulling a supermodel. It was that amazing. Take that cruel mistress!

I arrived early enough at Twerton Park to watch almost all of City's pre-match warm-up. Although they were about to dismember one of the league's best teams, there was nothing obvious about their behaviour to show this. There had been some exciting news earlier in the day, however. Bath City had signed its third foreign player of the season: former Latvian international Andrejs Štolcers. Although he is not a household name, his arrival is a real coupe for City manager Adie Britton. Fulham paid a reported £2 million transfer fee to get Štolcers from Spartak Moscow in 2000. Although he is now thirty-five, he has won league titles in four countries (Latvia, Russia, Azerbaijan and England) and made eighty-one appearances for his country. Not your typical non-league signing to say the least!

Despite Štolcers arrival, and a strong performance from Florin Pelecaci the previous Saturday, Adie Britton fielded the same exact same linup he has every week since the Grimsby Town match. This surprised a lot of fans in the terraces, including myself. We had expected to see key players rested and opportunities given to some of the bench warmers. Surely the City team that took the pitch would show signs of fatigue and dejection after the FGR loss?

Actually, no. A mere eight minutes into the match Kaid Mohamed beat the Woking defence to a ball in the air and launched a strike past Rob Worner into the netting. It was an emphatic goal. Obviously, Britton's plan to field the same lineup for the sixth match in a row was pure genius. Anyone still doubting this was genius got another dose of humble pie two minutes later. Sekani Simpson managed to elude four Woking tackles on the right of the goal and launched a neat cross to Darren Edwards on the left who headed the ball down and into the net. In a mere two minutes Woking's tally of goals conceded away from home increased by 33%.

Despite the early commanding lead, City did not sit back. In fact, if they had played with any more fire in their bellies they would have been showing singe marks on their shirts. It was as if all the pent up anger and frustration from the FA Cup ejection had been released in an enormous goal frenzy. Woking may have shown up hoping to gain some ground on league leaders Newport County, but instead they had walked into an open can of whoop-ass called Bath City.

Although the first ten minutes of the match had provided me with an important lesson on not second-guessing Adie Britton, the next thirty-five minutes provided me with plenty of reasons to second-guess Woking manager Graham Baker. After the first goal the Woking defence started playing dangerously far forward. There were several instances when the entire Woking team, except for the keeper, were in the City half. This would have made sense if City's front line was slow. In actual fact, City's strikers are pacey and very hard working. Kaid Mohamed and Darren Edwards are most dangerous on the break. They use their speed to get behind the opposition regularly, whereas they struggle more against a settled defence. Baker's tactics were like an engraved invitation to Mohamed and Edwards to fill their boots. It was as if Baker had read some other team's scouting report.

The third goal came soon enough. Yet another City attack on the break resulted in a corner taken by Lewis Hogg. Chris Holland's potent forehead found the ball and appeared to have succeeded again. Worner did manage to block it, although he did not manage to deflect the ball beyond Chris Holland's feet. A neat shot to the near post later, and Holland had a rare goal from below the waistline.

For me, halftime meant a delicious cup of tea and a bit of revelling in the party atmosphere of the Popular Side terrace. For the Woking players, though, halftime meant a serious bollocking and, for three of them, and end to their evening's service. Three halftime substitutions is a pretty good indicator the manager is not happy, but it was his tactics that were as much to blame as any of his players. He would have been better off substituting himself.

Woking did managed a little bit of pressure in the early minutes of the second half. It did not last long, however, and soon City were pressing them hard again. Sido Jombati was unlucky to not get his first goal in a City shirt with a blistering strike from fifteen yards. He may not have scored, but he did manage to take several layers of paint off of the right-hand goalpost. Perhaps sensing the game was in control, Adie Britton brought on his latest international acquisition for Mohamed with about thirty minutes to go. I was not the ony City fan eager to see how Štolcers would fare in his first venture into non-league football.

Pretty darn well, it turns out, but not how we were expecting. Because of the forward position of the Woking defence, their keeper, Rob Worner, was forced to play very far forward himself. This had almost landed him in trouble a few times, but it was Štolcers who capitalised (although in fairly bizarre circumstances). Worner had come a good twenty-five yards forward to clear a back-pass when Štolcers charged him. Leaping into the air, Štolcers turned in mid-flight so as not to be hit with the oncoming ball in the face (or worse). The charge was successful despite Worner's powerful kick. The ball ricocheted off of Štolcers' backside over Worner's head. It kept going. It was on target. Slowly it dawned on the fans and Worner that the ball might just have enough momentum to score. He made a mad dash back to his position, but it was too late. He reached the ball just as it had crossed the goal line. The legend of Andrejs 'Goldenbuns' Štolcers was born!

Obviously when your new international signing scores the fourth goal of the evening with his buttocks, things are going well. Woking did managed to force City keeper Ryan Robinson to do some work soon afterwards, but it was not long before Darren Edwards scored his second goal of the evening. Another Lewis Hogg free kick, another short range kick into goal, yadda, yadda, yadda. It seemed so routine by this point.

But it wasn't. Woking are the only full-time team in the Blue Square South. They have an excellent defence. They had scored fourteen goals in their previous nine away matches. They should not have lost 5-0 to mid-table opposition. Unfortunately for them, they happened upon some a team that was mad, angry, and ready to pounce, and actually a lot better than their table position shows. And they have a new player who can score with his bottom.

The ref's whistle ended the torture for Woking for the night. I don't believe they will be the last side in this league to suffer the same fate this season.

Blue Square South, you have been warned!

City Win Again, No Sweat!

City beat AFC Totton yesterday 3-2 in the FA Cup Fourth Qualifying Round. It was an exciting game with an exciting (£12,500) pot of prize money for the winner. There was lots of exciting play and definitely an exciting finish. For reasons of my own the second half and the hour following the match were especially exciting. Basically, the whole thing was like a giant shot of caffeine.

I arrived at the ground feeling jittery and full of contradictory thoughts. Bath City had needed the prize money from the Second and Third Qualifying Rounds in order to avoid cuts to the squad. Now that those cheques are safely pocketed I should have felt relaxed and cheerful, but I didn't. The Fourth Qualifying Round boasted almost double the prize money of the previous round, and it confered on the winner the chance to draw a League side in the next round. There is also a certain cache in being in the final thirty-two non-league clubs in the the competition. Just being in the draw for the First Round Proper is a real accomplishment. It is the sort of achievement that fans can point to with pride at the end of the season, regardless of what has happened in the league. Winning the Fourth Qualifying Round, therefore, had become supremely important. I told myself that if we could just win this round then I could relax. Yeah, right.

To ease the tension I went through my pre-match ritual: buy program that I will not read until I get home, buy a lottery ticket I will forget to take out of my pocket at half time, and buy a cup of tea that I will put down half-full and forget to finish. When I arrived at the popular side terrace there was also a lot of gossip to pick up on. City's first choice goalkeeper, Ryan Robinson, was going to make his debut appearance for City. It was great timing for him to recover from his injury because our third choice keeper was on holiday in America (our second choice keeper went to ground a long time ago after conceding four goals in a fifteen minute stretch of the season opener). There was also news of Totton's recent acquisition in the non-league transfer market. After a successful spell on loan, Totton had decided they liked the look of Nathan Jack enough to offer cross-town rivals Eastleigh a 'record transfer fee' (a record for Eastleigh, anyway) to make his stay permanent. I doubt the amounts involved were that earth-shattering, but it is just the sort of confident move that you don't want your opponents to make right before a crucial match.

So, apart from an unknown keeper who is far from match fit and the opposition team flashing lots of cash to strengthen its squad, everything was all right. Then I remembered that Totton were on a fourteen game unbeaten streak. No problem.

Once the game started it was evident to everyone in the ground why Totton were dominating the Zamaretto Division One South & West. They were fast and well organised on the break. Robinson was called into action after only four minutes to stop a decent shot. I tried not to admit it to myself, but City had drawn doormats for the previous two rounds. Now they were facing a team with some quality and ambition. Totton were different breed.

Totton's fans were a different breed, too. For the first time ever in my time at Twerton Park I saw away fans congregate around the goal their team was defending. It is traditional in non-league football for fans from either side to cheer their team from the goal it is attacking. Both sets of fans then switch sides at the interval, often engaging in a bit of good-natured banter along the way. Totton's supporters had established themselves in the Bristol end of the ground during the pre-game warm up, and like fans at a League match, they stayed there for the entire game. Perhaps this is a sign that, like the club they support, they too have ambitions for higher things.

Congregating around the goal your team is defending can be depressing, as the Totton faithful learned twenty-five minutes in. Totton's bright attacking form was not able to make up for what was clearly a shaky defence. After some of his trademark Brazilian-style footwork, Sekani Simpson delivered a looping cross parallel to the goal line that neatly met the outstretched foot of Richard Evans in front of the left-hand corner.

More misery was heaped on the Totton fans fifteen minutes later when Adam Connolly fancied a shot from twenty yards out and took the score to 2-0. This was a quality finish and it did Connolly's confidence a world of good. He spent the rest of the match terrifying the Totton defence from the same distance. I know I am not the only City fan who hopes this becomes a regular part of the team's arsenal.

Half-time came and I felt the warm, fuzzy glow that comes with your team is up by two goals to nil. Totton were a credit to step four of the non-league pyramid, but they were no match for the likes of City.

I was not totally relaxed, though. You never can be in football, and I had something extra on my mind as well. After humming and hawing for quite a while I had finally gotten enough nerve to ask a player to let me interview them for this blog. Since he had been very friendly previously I decided to start with defender Sido Jombati. Besides being one of the team's most popular players he is also from Portugal and I wanted to know what had brought him to Bath. Sido was also at the center of this season's biggest mystery - how had he arranged for his Romanian friend Florin Pelecaci to show up on City's doorstep six weeks previously? And how did he end up with a Romanian friend? To my surprise Sido agreed to let me speak to him after the match, and he arranged for Florin to come along as well. I was elated when I got the news. Now that the event was less than an hour away I began to doubt myself. Who am I to interview players? Will they figure out that I only recently stopped calling their sport 'soccer?' How badly could I screw this up? Could I screw it up so badly that I'd be to embarrassed to come to another City match for fear of running into them again? I decided I couldn't' screw it up that much. Maybe just enough to wear sunglasses for the rest of the season.

To the great relief of the City faithful the second half began as the first ended. Lewis Hogg's corner was deflected by the Totton keeper, Gareth Barfoot, directly onto Gethin Jones' forehead. City had a three goal lead and I was just about at the point where I felt I could relax.

I did not get the chance, though. A few minutes later I was jolted from my focus on the game when I heard my name being called over the tannoy. I was asked to come to the press box because of something 'urgent.' Figuring out why I was being called over the tannoy was easy enough: I had left my mobile at home in the charger. Figuring out who needed to speak to me urgently and about what, though, was harder. In the three to four minutes it took me to get to the press office I managed to think of about every scenario. Nervously I opened the press box door and was met by my friend Phil who handed me his mobile to use. 'It's something to do with work,' he said.

I breathed a sigh of relief that it was only work, but only for a second. In my line of work things rarely go wrong, but when they do they usually go very badly wrong and are expensive to fix. I dialed the number and quickly received the news that....actually nothing really serious was wrong at all. A customer had been overcharged in a credit card transaction and they needed my access code to arrange a refund. Now I let out a really big sigh of relief. It turned out that Phil had said over the tannoy quite clearly that it was 'not urgent,' but I had just missed the 'not' part. As I left the press office, feeling a mixture of relief and embarrassment at having left my mobile at home, City chairman Geoff Todd asked me if everything was okay (I bet Roman Abromovich has never asked a concerned fan if he is okay at Stamford Bridge).

Back on the popular side I settled in to watch what I was hoping would be a romp to a large-margin victory. The player that stood out at this point of the match was clearly our midfielder Lewis 'Hoggy' Hogg. After this match, though, calling Hoggy a midfielder may be inaccurate. In an interesting bit of tactics manager Adie Britton had left the talismanic Florin Pelecaci on the bench, moved Sekani Simpson to midfield, and, most surprisingly, put Lewis Hogg in as a forward to partner Darren Edwards. Hogg was a revelation. Totton had no idea how to handle him. He was less a striker than a saboteur operating behind enemy lines. It appeared to make no difference whether he won a header or not. The ball would soon become his and he would whip around whatever defender had tried to block him in seconds. The only thing that stopped the game being a route was the linesman's flag constantly being raised every time he fed the ball forward to Edwards.

With the game seeming secure Adie Britton made a series of sensible seeming substitutions. On came Mike Perrott, Marus Browning, and Pelecaci. Other than Browning taking a position in midfield instead of defence, nothing about those substitutions appeared out of order. Things began to go badly wrong anyway.

Nathan Jack, the 'record' signing, put Totton on the scoreboard with less than five minutes to play. The score became 3-2 in injury time when a City failed to clear a corner kick in time. All the old nervous feelings from the start of the match reappeared, but fortunately, Totton were not able to extend their unbeaten run to fifteen games. The ref blew his whistle and a mighty roar rose from the City fans. City would be in the hat for the First Round Draw, and no matter what else happened the club's budget problems would be eased significantly. All was right with the world. All I had to do now was to find two players I admire greatly, ask them lots of questions that hopefully they would want to answer, and somehow cobble it together into something readable and interesting. No sweat.

I am pleased to say, though, that I did find Sido and Florin in 'Charlie's' after the match. They were both kind and gracious and allowed me to stumble through my enquiries, and they gave thoughtful and interesting answers. I felt totally out of my depth but they put me at ease. You will be able to read what they said later this week. I can promise that you won't be disappointed.

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!