Casually returning to the fold

Saturday 8th January - 

Thorngumbald Trinity 3 Easington Utd Casuals 1

Wardie is amazed to still see his feet ater a fortnight's Festive feasting!

Plumtree Road, Thorngumbald has never been the happiest of hunting grounds for me.  From memory (and without the aid of the official records stacked up here in what constitutes a study in our house) I can recall only one win of any real note in the time I've been involved with the club.

That came in the early Nineties when then hosts Thorngumbald AFC, then a County League Premier Division side under legendary Holderness one-man-band Arthur Brummitt, saw their superior league status brushed aside; beaten in a memorable South Holderness Cup semi-final win by the young upstarts of the East End.  It goes without saying that we were then unable to repeat the feat in the Final...but that's another story!

Other than this most memories of playing and/or managing at Plumtree, both at junior and senior level, are shadowed by defeat.

In short, it's not at the top of my list of favourite away grounds.

Dawson perfects a kicking technique straight out of the game of 'Striker'

And it remains so following this latest visit, in which the Casuals (aka our Third XI) extended their run without a win to three months, courtesy of a 3-1 defeat at the County League's newest members, Thorngumbald Trinity.

In fairness, thanks to blank weeks and postponed fixtures, the barren run only amounts to six games.  Even so, it's a somewhat depressing sequence given the Casuals' blistering start to the campaign.  Three wins out of three had them top of the tree in early October...admittedly, the "tree" in question is Division 5 of the East Riding County League, the sixth of six divisions therein.  Still we all have to start somewhere.

As I've no doubt mused in the past, there's something about watching our third-string in action that takes me back to the "good old days" of Easington football.

In other words to an era when we'd do well to scrape eleven blokes together at kick-off time, especially at away games where - pre-mobile phones - it would almost be a miracle if at least one player hadn't got lost en route.  Our ambitions for the season were no loftier than to avoid the wooden spoon in our respective division (usually the basement one or next one up) and to enjoy a run in the Holmpton Invitation Cup (the Holderness equivalent of the Johnson Paint Trophy...but without the Wembley final).

"Build it...and they will come!"

Several survivors of those days are still involved.  Indeed Player/Manager Iain McNaught - known in proper football tradition as "Maccer" - is in the fortunate position of picking a team each week in which he can include himself, thus extending his current club record of appearances towards the 700 mark.  Today's was number 680.

At the start of the season, "Maccer" stood level with fellow veteran John Clarke on 672 and there are many who suspected foul play when the latter's campaign was curtailed by injury during the pre-season friendlies.  Clarke remains on 672 and unlikely to add to this in the forseeable future.

In fairness, perhaps McNaught ought to be out in front on his own.  Older than his closest rival and having made his debut earlier, the current boss would have already been looking at a healthy lead had he not spent a season on the touchline early on in his Eastenders career.  This was as the the result of an ERCFA ban after he'd naively called into question the parentage of a match official...and then lost the subsequent appeal.

A reformed character in terms of discipline, the current Casuals boss is still definitely "old school" when it comes to pre-match preparations.  And I don't just mean the Friday night session down his local, "Blackies" in Preston.  

While our senior squad and to a lesser extent the Reserves are put through a rigorous warm-up schedule that is dependent on prompt arrival and good time-keeping, the Casuals' approach is, er, somewhat more laid back.  Still, it's quite amusing to see said manager round his players up beforehand for a pep talk, urging good shape, discipline and an intensity from the start...before squeezing in another crafty smoke just prior to kick-off.

A sight for the purists

Iain's Number Two, Danny Campbell, is known as "The Passionate One" with no explanation required.  What he lacks in natural ability he more than compensates for with the proverbial "heart the size of a dustbin lid".  And he's getting a chassis to match.

The manager's younger brother "Biff" (don't ask) provides further experience in the ranks as do skipper Darren Dawson, the returning Jodi Stow and Steve Ward (aka Ted Hankey).

However, the real bonus for the Casuals this term has been the emergence of a crop of keen and not unpromising youngsters, spearheaded by striker Kurt Johansson (still to score this term!), midfielder Ben Akam, defenders Lewis Green and Pat Tomlinson, and newest recruit Jordan Wray - whose appearances so far on the pitch have paled in comparison to those on a certain well-known social networking site.

Along with this welcome mix, for the first time since taking the reins of the third team, "Maccer" has got himself a goal scorer in Karl Hodgson.  A bit of an enigma, "Hodgy" arrived with a CV that numbered the ERCFA Juniors and NCEL side Winterton Rangers among his past clubs.  On this basis and a couple of training sessions, he was thrust into the First Team squad at Thorne Colliery in October 2009.  It's been all slightly downhill since.

No matter though as Karl is now the fulcrum around which all Casuals attacks pivot.  With five goals in as many games coming into this one (plus two in four for the Reserves) there was little wonder that his role - on the evidence of what I saw in this match - involves taking every free-kick, corner and throw-in awarded Easington's way.  He's even above wearing club issue shorts and socks...he's THAT good.  For Roy of the Rovers read Karl of the Casuals.

Tickets marked "Restricted View"

I must admit to not being in the best of moods as I made the short trip westwards across Holderness.  Not only had our game against Parkhouse once again fallen victim to the elements (see previous blog) but that morning I'd also found out that landlady Christine and family were set to leave our post-match watering hole, with almost immediate effect.  Another victim - indirectly - of Britain's changing drinking habits.

Of course the first Saturday of the New Year is traditionally accompanied by what was once regarded as one of the biggest days in the football calendar - the FA Cup Third Round.  But we all know what happened there.

And so, despite Hull City hosting "top flight" side Wigan at the KC in a tie that had potential shock written all over it, I forsook the chance to attend in favour of lending my support more locally.  (Of course the fact that a trip to Thorngumbald was cheaper and could yield much-needed Brownie Points on account of it being in close proximity to the in-laws had no bearing on my decision whatsoever.)

Accompanied to the game by the Younger Slushette, my chances of seeing an uninterrupted ninety minutes were always rated at no more than slim.  And barely fifteen minutes in, I was dragged off for the first of several visits to the adjoining play-park.  Not the best vantage point I've found at a ground.

At least the distraction of standing guard while my youngest proceeded to climb, jump and slide up, across and down every piece of apparatus there was allowed me a few moments to reflect on the venue itself and how little it has changed since I played there for Easington's under-14's...and lost of course.  Usually heavily.

Interestingly (or not) Plumtree Road was once also home to the current Mrs Slush.  Indeed many of my mother-in-law's Saturday afternoons were brightened up just before two o'clock by the sight of several grown men stood against her back garden fence, relieving themselves of some, er, pre-match tension. But I digress.

Despite the obstructed view, I still saw enough to know that the Casuals were unlucky to come off a goal down at the break; and this an unfortunate 'OG' by youngster Green following a fine save by keeper Duggie.

Bodies everywhere...uh-oh, it's Roy of the Rovers...



It's alright - he'd simply been dazzled by the referee's outfit



Into the second half and the Younger Slushette's request to return to her Gran's to finish the jigsaw she'd started before kick-off meant a ten-minute absence from the game.  As we headed down Plumtree back towards the current Cooper residence on Hooks Lane a muffled cheer could be heard from whence we'd come.  An equaliser perhaps?

On my return, to my disappointment, I learned the cheer was from the home contingent.  Two down and with the excesses of the recent Festive season starting to show, I feared the worst.

Moments later, young Kurt came off - having extended his goalless run by another game - to be greeted by sympathetic words from substitute Hankey.

"Another game without scoring Kurt?"

"Another game on the bench Wardie?" came the reply.  Like it Kurt, like it.  Good ol' fashioned piss-taking is still alive at Casuals level.



DC keeps alive his hopes of the Golden Boot

Wardie (looking even more Ted Hankey-like when eventually stripped of his warm-up layers) was on by the time the "killer" third went in, a speculative cross that somehow eluded Duggie to drop in at the far post.

By this time the cocky young home keeper was getting on my nerves a little.  Not least when he backed up his verbals with one superb stop from Hodgson and a flukey one from Green - the keeper sitting on the shot as the ball threatened to squirm under him.

In the dying moments, Hodgy went down with what he first feared was ankle ligament damage, only to eventually turn out to be a slightly askew shinpad.  "Maccer" could rest easy.

The Casuals then attained some measure of respectability thanks to a "DC" penalty; fired home - just - past my new best friend keeper and followed with the asst-boss's customary retrieval of the ball from the net and an urge to "Come on, we can still win this!" 

We couldn't.  And we didn't.

In conclusion, our hosts look well set to follow in their Plumtree Road predecessors' footsteps.  They've got some good youngsters in the ranks, as well as some fairly gobby ones, and similar to the aforementioned Mr Brummitt they have a dedicated man at the helm in Chris Jordan.  Perhaps not the right term but Jordan has "groomed" the team from very junior level and should be lauded for his efforts.

The day's high point

One of the prize pubs on April's End-of-Season Holderness Pub Crawl, post-match venue the Crooked Billet at Ryehill stocks a fine selection of hand-pulled ales, from which I opted for a Jennings "Soggy Bottom".  Coupled with a Carlsberg, it was my first experience of post-VAT rise beer buying - nearly six quid for two pints! 

Unfortunately, with many of the home side yet to attain legal drinking status the home turnout in the pub was somewhat on the low side.  Not that we minded - extra sarnies are always well received by a team with a Campbell in the ranks.

However, the absence of our hosts did make for a distinct lack of post-match analysis and the low-key atmosphere was compounded by news on the box of The Tigers' early exit from the FA Cup.  Oh well, at least my decision to opt for a day at Plumtree had been vindicated.  And we were calling at Patrington chippie for tea.  Post-match fish & chips?  Oh yes, back to the good old days.

Booking in for a Winter Break!

Monday 3rd January - Thorne Colliery (home) Match postponed
Saturday 8th January - Parkhouse (Cup replay, home) Match postponed

I've found myself with a bit of time on my hands lately, what with football having disappeared from the local calendar for some six weekends on the trot.

Even allowing for the fact we've just come through the Christmas holidays, with people to visit, pubs to attend and the Slushettes as hyper as a certain John Stape (bad comparison I admit!) I've still been left with plenty of time to think: what to do now?

When in deep...stop digging!

Especially when the kids have got bored of getting wet and cold, and when even Mrs Slush is struggling to find jobs for you to do "of a weekend".  I've even struggled to find anything to blog about - which is unusual.

So, reading then.  As in books.  That's what I've been doing for the past six weeks (along with trying to sort out a kernackered Steepletone stereo/MP3 downloader and attempting to keep pace with events on Corrie of course!).

As I've perhaps previously explained (probably at the same time last year) my book reading is a bit like Shane Watson's batting i.e. I usually make a good start and sometimes romp to fifty...only to then fail to build on things.  My bedside still comprises an almost completed In Cold Blood (Truman Capote) and George MacDonald Fraser's second Flashman instalment, which I've just recently re-started. (In fact so long had elapsed since I last put it down  I'd forgotten the identity of the main players!)

However, maintaining the batting analogy, these two titles aside I've moved from Watson to Cook in recent weeks and have been positively prolific in clocking up completed titles of late.

It must be to do with the snow.   And the ice.  And the rain.  And most of all the bloody cold!

And then when the snow goes...

I began with an Assam-inspired trio of books with an Egyptian theme (Winston Churchill's The River War, Michael Barthorp's Blood Red Desert Sand and Philip Ziegler's Omdurman) before then switching from Victorian military history to crime-fiction and racing through Cathi Unsworth's 60s Soho-set noir novel Bad Penny Blues.  An absolute stonker of a book.  Meanwhile, prompted by the recent TV adaptation of Aftermath, I've also set myself the task of completing Peter Robinson's highly-acclaimed Inspector Banks' mysteries.  The 1987 opener Gallows View was swiftly seen off, as was follow-up A Dedicated Man and I'm already cracking through third instalment A Necessary End (1989) like there's no tomorrow!  Just twelve more to go...

Thing is, I can never just read a book in its own right without wanting to provide  some background to what's actually happening therein.  Thus, while wading through books about the aforementioned tales of battling the "Fuzzy Wuzzies" in Egypt and Sudan I took the chance to watch The Four Feathers and Gordon of Khartoum; in addition of course to countless episodes of Dads Army in which Cpl Jones would reiterate, "They don't like it up 'em!" 

Sodden Saturday!

Similarly, the Cathi Unsworth novel had me also referencing Dominic Sandbrook's Never Had It So Good (A History of Britain from Suez to The Beatles) as well as listening to sounds ranging from late-50s British rock 'n' roll to early Mod Jazz compilations  (I drew the line at Trad!) to set the scene for the period covered in the book.  A fascinating trawl through the Jack The Stripper murders, which provide the backdrop to Bad Penny Blues, also helped set the novel in a clearer context.  
So, as you can imagine, all this reading, watching and listening (and I've not mentioned  More 4's re-run of the Red Riding trilogy - a decent companion to the Banks' series, also set in the seedier side of Yorkshire) has left little time for anything else.  Even football.  Little wonder then that Mrs Slush gets exasperated!  

Still, as I type this, hopes are finally high that a First Team fixture this Saturday may finally drag me out of a book and onto a playing field.  And, given that FC 05 Bilsthorpe's pitch is one of the best in the league, I've at last got some confidence that this might just be the case...

Queueing for a Tiger Tweet-up!

Tuesday 28th December - Hull City 1 Reading 1
Monday 3rd January - Portsmouth 2 Hull City 3


All's well that ends well



"Buzzing".  That's what I am, positively "buzzing".  And that's not a term I've used many times over the past few seasons when describing attendance at Hull City matches.  But, buoyed by my last three outings to watch the Tigers, I can safely say I'm currently anticipating future trips with the same sort of excitement I had when first entering Boothferry Park as a youngster over thirty years ago.

Although the sub-heading refers to the last two matches I attended, in reality the Reading one acts merely as the hors-d'oeuvre to the main course that was my first visit to Portsmouth in over twenty years.
Not that the home game against another of the Championship's "form teams" was instantly forgettable - far from it given some superb passing football from City of the sort I wouldn't have thought possible when witnessing the shambles at home to Sheff Utd earlier this term; and a performance of refereeing by Mr. D. Foster that must rank as one of the most inconsistent I can recall at any level of football. 

I'd again "treated" the Elder Slushette to a trip to the KC for the visit of "The Royals", along with Easington United stalwart (& fellow long-term City sufferer) "Biff".  At one point on the morning of the match I wondered whether or not we'd actually get to see any action at all.  From 10am my attempts to purchase tickets over the phone failed to even get past the engaged tone.  And having seen the queue for "pay on the gate" at the recent Bristol City match, I had visions of a frustrating and possibly fruitless afternoon ahead.

In the event my fears proved groundless.  We arrived at the Ticket Office for half-one and walked past two bored-looking stewards ("Ooh, you've timed it just right - we've just got rid of a massive queue".  Yeah, right) and had no problems in obtaining three tickets for the Upper West. (Incidentally, when I informed said stewards about my earlier problems in trying to get through on the phone, I was told, "Well, it's been bedlam mate."  Nowt to do with a lack of staff manning the phones then?  A crowd of just under 22,000 might suggest City's preparations weren't all they could have been - especially given the first win at Bramall Lane in 39 years that had immediately preceded the Reading encounter).

Anyway, enough of the whingeing, once safely ensconced in the ground we were treated to a decent match.  The first half was particularly encouraging with a stunning goal courtesy of James Harper, two stonking efforts against the woodwork (from Koren & Stewart) and some more scintillating wing/forward play from the Man Utd loanee who'd already impressed me so much just a week or so before.

Of course, during the interval, I had the stupidity to come out with the dreaded cliche about "half time's perhaps the worst thing that could've happened to City".  Sure enough, Reading, who'd been far from poor opponents in the first 45 minutes despite City's ascendancy, looked even better after the break and suddenly put their hosts on the back foot.  Still, when on-loan keeper Vito Mannone produced a fine penalty save to deny Shane Long, the Tigers' luck appeared in...only for Reading to grab a point courtesy of a farcical goal described thus by City scorer Harper in his post-match radio interview: "(the ball) hit McShane on the 'arris before falling to the geezer at the far post who's stuck it in!"  Quite.

Harper's interviews are becoming quite legendary on Radio Humberside and he capped this latest one off by observing that the aforementioned Mr Foster had "pooed himself" over the (correct as it happens) non-award of a second half City penalty following a challenge on Jay Simpson and a prolonged negotiation with his lino.

Harper clinches another Radio Humberside interview!

 
If I'd thought the pre-match organisation at the KC had left a little to be desired, it was nothing compared to what awaited me at Portsmouth's Fratton Park.

Having already decided - wisely as it turns out - that it wasn't worth the hassle of trying to fit the Leicester home game on New Year's Day into already busy social plans, I'd gained a surprisingly easy "pass out" from Mrs Slush for the Bank Holiday jaunt to the south coast.

Looking back I'm almost certain my only previous visit to "Pompey" had come in  February 1987.  In time-honoured fashion I can't really remember much about the actual game (a 0-1 defeat)  but I must have been single as it was played on Valentine's Day and  somehow I struggle to see the attraction to many young ladies at that time of a twelve-hour round-trip on a Simon Gray coach.  Especially when considering the refreshments consisted of cardboard crisps and Tigercola, the entertainment was a freezing cold two hours spent on a windswept open terrace that at that time formed the away end, and there was a more than evens chance of breaking down either en route or on the way home!   Come to think of it, my weekends away spent following the Tigers hampered many of my attempts at forging lasting relationships with the opposite sex back in the mid-Eighties.  Not that I probably minded too much; I was young(ish), devoted and...well, yeah, daft!

Still, at least my memories have had time to fade.  They're not half as painful as the recent ones held by those City fans (such as Marcus Dysch) who were re-visiting Fratton Park less than a year since Iain Dowie's side had surrendered a 2-1 lead in the dying moments to effectively consign themselves to relegation from the Premier League.  "Scarred" is probably the most appropriate term to use.

Having jested some two weeks' previously about "fanzine legend and media slag" Andy Medcalf's offer to drive to Pompey, it appeared come Sunday evening that the trip was a no-go.  According to his own Twitter entries, Andy was having trouble accumulating the necessary "brownie points".  Not to mention acquiring a sizeable band of volunteers to accompany him on his "jaunt".

Still, at 8.45pm came the official announcement.  "Trip on".  Excellent.  The first day of the Fifth Ashes Test at Sydney could wait - Hull City's need was greater than England's.

Hence, just after seven the following morning, Mr Medcalf's Kia 4x4 rolled down Westfield Close and I stepped aboard for my first "proper" away game since the memorable Barmby-inspired win at Sheffield Wednesday in December 2004  (and yes I know, THAT'S a shameful fact).

"Who else is going then?" I asked.

"Kate"

"Who?"

"Kate...@Tigerkj64"

Ah, from Twitter.  "I didn't know you knew her?" 

"I don't".

This was surreal.  A sort of slimmed-down "#hcafc tweet-up" with @AndyMedcalf in the chair!

Inside the hour we were outside the home of our third passenger and soon we were making fantastic time en route to the south.

Indeed, barely five hours after leaving the mouth of the Humber we were at the mouth of the Solent.  And a few minutes later found me enjoying a fine lunchtime pint of St Austell Tribute in the cosy Florence Arms, in the company of several members of the Hull City Southern Supporters Club (including seminal Tigers match reporter Steve Weatherill) and fellow Tiger tweeter Paul "Pieman" Robinson (or @Tigerfan11 in the case of this ongoing "#hcafc tweet-up"!).

A second pint, this time of Adnams Broadside and all was set fair...until the power of Twitter alerted our party to potential admission problems at the ground.  Thus, still some eighty minutes ahead of kick-off, we wrapped up and set off for the fairly lengthy walk to Fratton Park, confident of being in our seats in plenty of time to welcome new boy Matty Fryatt and his new team-mates onto the pitch.  Hmm.



Putting a brave face on things...ten minutes before kick-off! 



The sight that met our arrival at the ground quickly dispelled such hopes.  It was obvious that things were not going according to plan.  Queues of supporters wearing both clubs' favours snaked back for some distance from the Frogmore Road ticket office.  And as we joined the back of one of them, worse was to follow.

A steward suddenly broke the line with his arm and announced, "We've just been informed that we will not be selling tickets to anyone behind this point".

Just ahead of us were a City-supporting couple who'd spent the previous night in a Portsmouth hotel, on the promise - as stated on the official website - that the game was "pay on the gate".  Their voices were just two of many as dissent steadily grew.

Having seen a familiar face further up the queue I quickly passed on enough money to secure three more tickets and was pleased that my actions not only failed to arouse the ire of those in close attendance, particularly the home contingent, but indeed attracted much sympathy from them.

All sorts of reports were circulating about the reasons for the farce, the main one being that Pompey had been forced out of their main ticket office by the previous owner, resulting in just two kiosks being forced to deal with increasingly agitated punters.

Meanwhile, living up to his @Mike_Scott-inspired Twitter tag, our man-in-charge Andrew did what he apparently does best - went live on Radio Humberside to "paint pictures" to Sports Editor David Burns of the scene outside the gates.  It was now 2.45pm.  We were not going to see kick-off.

Not a bad Tiger turnout

Thankfully, things finally speeded up to such an extent that we had tickets in hand and were around the Milton End some ten minutes into the game.  We were in our seats just in time to see latest on-loan keeper Brad Guzan make the first of several fine stops. 

Having taken time to assess the Tiger turnout (a very impressive 600 was the figure finally given to it the following day) and wolfed down a not-so impressively priced cheeseburger (I should have bought the "hub-cap size" versions being sold outside as recommended by yet another Tiger tweeter @philascough) I settled down for what would prove the most exciting and indeed nail-biting ninety, nay, eighty minutes I've seen live in a long while.

There's no doubting that for every City chance - such as Bullard smacking the underside of the bar with a superb free-kick before firing home from the spot for the only goal of the first half - the hosts had at least three!  But thanks to Guzan and some wayward finishing, we somehow held a lead into the break.


City come out in sympathy with their hosts re. use of subs!

 
Whilst trying to work out whether only six subs warming up on the pitch at HT meant that one was inside getting changed, observations were also made about the Tigers' lead being a far from secure one!  The consensus was that "another four" goals might see us okay.

In the event, two in a "Tigertastic" five-minute spell during the second half would prove enough, although not before Pompey levelled from the spot themselves and then put us under further serious examination.

But the previously oft-criticised NP made two astute changes.  On came new signing Matty Fryatt to cap things with a quality first goal, followed by our very own St Nick to put us 3-1 up with a typical Barmbyesque finish.

Of course this being City we wouldn't be allowed to air our songs of triumph with complete conviction; the hosts pegging us back to 2-3 and then creating - and missing - three great late opportunities to snatch a point.  Step forward and take a bow, one Brad Guzan.



"Do-Do-Do-Super Matty Fryatt"

Eventually the final whistle blew and victory could be savoured.  Memories of last year were suitably eclipsed, while all talk immediately afterwards and indeed for a few days "on the boards" was of a bright, new outlook on the rest of the campaign. 

This positivity was further reinforced by post-match news of the probable capture of highly-rated Man Utd youngster James Chester and rumoured continued interest in Swindon hotshot Charlie Austin.  And as we drove home to the accompaniment of ex-boss Phil Brown bringing his usual brand of "entertainment" to a footy talk-in on 5Live, I was actually quite disappointed that my next appointment with The Tigers isn't likely to come for another month, when those "lovely" chaps in white from West Yorkshire come calling at the KC. 

Ah, supporting Hull City isn't meant to be like this...is it?

Thanks to Andy Medcalf for most of the above photos