Dads Army, part two

The first time I went into the clubhouse bar, Charlie's, I felt pretty intimidated. I don't drink, so anytime I'm in a bar ordering a coke I always feel slightly silly. It is sort of like hanging out in a steakhouse and asking for a veggieburger. Charlie's is also a very, very male environment that harks back to an era from before my arrival in the UK. There is a giant telly on the wall with Sky Sports News flashing its stats, and one of those pre-Thatcher carpets that will never show a stain no matter how bad the behaviour gets. When we walked in it was full of groups of men getting a prematch buzz going, so we siddled up to one end of the bar and did the same (except I had a Coke).

Whenever you bring someone new to a Bath City match you cannot help but feel insecure about what their reaction is going to be. When someone is used to the sanitised world of Premiership matches on the telly you wonder if Twerton Park is just a bit too gritty and earthy. As a result from the point of that pint until the second half I kept asking everyone what they thought, half expecting for them to laugh and say, 'This is so crap!'

But they didn't! After the pint I gathered everyone on the terraces on the 'popular side' of the ground and I talked through the various players and they all seemed interested. They asked questions and looked thoughtfully at the players as if they were sizing them up. I was feeling hopeful.

As the match started it was immediately obvious that the Bath City players had shown up to win. I don't know if it was as a result of the close loss at the Chelmsford match, or if manager Addie Britton had put something in their milk, but whatever it was there was an immediately noticeable and impressive collective will among the players to pummel Maidenhead United until they begged for mercy. It was thrilling to watch, and even though the quality of play was not of a Premiership standard, watching any team at any level wanting to win that badly is bound to be entertaining.

City's main worry so far this season has been the lack of fire power up front. This was an issue in the Maidenhead game, because although City dominated possession and made some great plays in mid-field, getting a playable ball into the penalty box eluded them for most of the first half. Controlling the ball was very important, though, because it kept City's loanee keeper, Will Puddy, from having to do much on the night. His lapse at Chelmsford where he let in four goals in fifteen minutes is the second biggest worry at City at the moment. I was finding it frustrating that City could not convert its possession into goals, but I was heartened when one of the dads said, 'It is clear we are the better team. I'm sure we will get a goal soon.' We? We!

Despite my fears everyone seemed to be having a genuinely good night out. The father who had been very upfront about not really liking football even said, 'I wonder if I should call my wife and tell her I'm having a good time at a football match. She might not believe me.' At halftime I asked another what he thought so far. I meant, what did he think of the experience of a non-league match, but he said, 'I think we'll get a goal soon and then hopefully that will relax them and a few more will follow.'

Another benefit of a night at Twerton became apparent during the halftime break. I went and got a cup of tea, but about half the guys went round to the snack bar for burgers and chips. No one asked, 'What did you have for lunch, then?' or 'Are you sure you need that much salt on those?' I'll say no more.

In the second half City kept hammering away at the Maidenhead defence. This time they let the Magpies get out of their half a few times, but despite this at 65 minutes Darren Edwards finally got the goal everyone had been waiting for. There was a tangible sense of relief in the stands.

Bizarrely, despite only having a one goal lead and having thrashed Maidenhead up to now, the City players changed to a defensive formation and began to play back. A sense of nervousness was evident to everyone and Will Putty almost lost his clean sheet in the closing minutes when a ball just overshot the far post. After six nerve-wracking minutes of injury time the whistle blew and I starting jumping up and down in triumph.

The players jumped up and down too. Matt Coupe and Chirs Holland began pumping the air in triumph. There was a group hug of players on the pitch. It was only a regular league match, but the reaction was more like getting into the first round of the FA Cup. City really had wanted to win. I hope that wherever this new attitude comes from they can keep it up for the rest of the season.

The dads were also in a buoyant mood. It had been a beautiful evening spent outdoors watching a very entertaining match with friends. What could be better? Everyone, to a man, said they wanted to come back. We agreed to keep in touch and do it again. The Eastleigh match on September 8th is looking good.

Dads Army, part one

Bachelors - watch out! Fatherhood has gone all modern and you will be expected to do things your father probably only had a vague understanding of: cleaning, cooking, childcare, the list goes on. You will still be required to work full time, and because you are not likely to be any good at cleaning or cooking you won't get full credit for your efforts there. As it turns out, spending enough time with your kids to know their names is a good thing. Still, all of this leaves precious little time for your own independent social life. To have one you will need a lot of organisation and planning, and if you are a normal guy you probably aren't really good at organising and planning in your free time. Make sure you have Sky. And don't worry, your wife will still organise the occasional social event for you to attend with her friends (and their husbands, of course).

This sad sounding pattern is what happened to me without me really realising, and has happened to most of the guys I know (for most of the guys I know please read 'the husbands of my wife's friends and fathers of the kids my kids are in school with). It sounds much worse than it is because home life as a father is probably the best thing in the world, even if you are expected to hoover. Before long, though, it is easy to find yourself not ever going out on your own unless it is a work event. What's a modern male to do to fix this? Me, I go to Bath City football matches.

There is a strange emotional chemistry in the minds of wives at play here that I do not begin to understand, but will still do my best to explain. Although wives are keen for their husbands to contribute more to all things domestic, they also have a very slight, low intensity guilt about the withering of their husband's social lives. Do not ask them directly about this - they will deny it. But in off-guard moments, talking amongst themselves, you can detect just a slight trace of concern about yet another night spent in front of the telly watching Masterchef. They think to themselves, 'maybe it would be best if he was out on his own from time to time.' This is the time to strike.

My friend Mark and I have a system. When I want to go to a match I say, 'you know, it would really be good for Mark I think if we went to the match together Tuesday night. He seemed a bit glum when I saw him last weekend.' He says to his wife, 'Ned wants to go to the match but is worried about going by himself. I really need to go with him.' It works!

The next step in the liberation of the fathers of the world was to try this on a larger scale. I set myself the goal of bringing twenty fellow dads to the home opener of the Bath City season against Maidenhead United this past Tuesday night. I called and emailed everyone in my older son's class whether I knew them or not. Although a bit surprised by the offer, most of my fellow fathers showed a lot of enthusiasm. There were two typical responses. If I got the husband on the phone he would say, 'I think that is okay. I'll just make sure my wife hasn't got plans for us that evening.' (!!!!) Or, if I got the wife on the phone she would say, 'How thoughtful of you to think of him. I'll try to make sure he comes. It sounds like a great idea for you all to go out together.' (!!!!!!!!!!) In total I had 16 positive responses, not counting four who wanted to come but were on holiday.

Okay, we are guys, and true to form several people dropped out at the last moment. In the end there were nine of us who gathered in front of my son's primary school (I had to choose somewhere we all knew the location of). All of us knew at least one other person in the group, but none of knew everyone. Four of us had been to City matches before (Mark and I being regulars and two had been once), but most had only vague ideas of what a non-league match would be like. One person was quite upfront about not really liking football and just coming along for the experience. We piled into our cars and set off for sunny Twerton.

Because everyone had unexpectedly arrived at our gathering point on time (what has happened to our manhood!), we arrived at the ground much earlier than I expected. Thinking on my feet, I suggested we all go in to Charlie's for a pint. There was a slight pause after I suggested this, like it was some sort of dare or something, but we all piled in and started getting pints of stout.

More on what happened next to follow tomorrow!