Friday, 2 May 2008
The wait of expectation
Lots of people can't stand waiting for a bus because there's nothing you can do to make it arrive more quickly. Waiting for something good to happen to your football team is much the same. You can shout encouragement or abuse at the players or sound off on a messageboard until you're blue in the fingers. But you won't make any more difference to what actually happens than if you were to stand at the bus stop yelling: "Booooo, this is rubbish! Sort it, Stagecoach!"
The bus eventually turns up, though, and sooner or later something good happens to your football team. Although, granted, nobody publishes a timetable for winning promotion.
Town fans are getting twitchy because next season will be our fifth in a row as a fourth division team. This represents our worst spell, in terms of league status, since we joined the Football League as founder members of the second division in 1892. True, we spent the 1910–11 season as a non-League club. But the league still only had two divisions at that time, so that wasn't so bad. And in those days you didn't have TV companies promising the league 300 million quid and then welching on the deal when they didn't sell enough advertising.
But five seasons in the basement is nothing really. Rochdale have got themselves into the play-offs this year. If they win they'll be promoted for the first time in 40 years. And from 1970 to 1989 they failed to finish higher than 15th. At least we had a day out in Cardiff the other year and the fun of knocking Lincoln out of the play-off semi-finals.
And three or four decades of fourth division football were the stuff of dreams for Accrington Stanley, of course – liquidated in 1962 with debts of less than £50,000. A reformed Aldershot will return to the league next season after suffering a similar fate in 1992. But Stanley fans had to wait 44 years for their big comeback. If you're stuck for what to do over the close season, nip out and buy a Travel Scrabble.
When Town were relegated to the third division in 1997, our opponents this weekend, Hereford, went down to the Conference. It took them nine years to return, and tomorrow they'll be celebrating another promotion – on an average attendance nearly 1,000 less than ours this season.
And the greatest consolation for Town fans is that when our club eventually gets itself together and achieves promotion, the momentum tends to carry through to the following season and we often go up again. For the Mariners, promotion really is like waiting for a bus: you're stuck there for ages and then two come along at once.
The bus eventually turns up, though, and sooner or later something good happens to your football team. Although, granted, nobody publishes a timetable for winning promotion.
Town fans are getting twitchy because next season will be our fifth in a row as a fourth division team. This represents our worst spell, in terms of league status, since we joined the Football League as founder members of the second division in 1892. True, we spent the 1910–11 season as a non-League club. But the league still only had two divisions at that time, so that wasn't so bad. And in those days you didn't have TV companies promising the league 300 million quid and then welching on the deal when they didn't sell enough advertising.
But five seasons in the basement is nothing really. Rochdale have got themselves into the play-offs this year. If they win they'll be promoted for the first time in 40 years. And from 1970 to 1989 they failed to finish higher than 15th. At least we had a day out in Cardiff the other year and the fun of knocking Lincoln out of the play-off semi-finals.
And three or four decades of fourth division football were the stuff of dreams for Accrington Stanley, of course – liquidated in 1962 with debts of less than £50,000. A reformed Aldershot will return to the league next season after suffering a similar fate in 1992. But Stanley fans had to wait 44 years for their big comeback. If you're stuck for what to do over the close season, nip out and buy a Travel Scrabble.
When Town were relegated to the third division in 1997, our opponents this weekend, Hereford, went down to the Conference. It took them nine years to return, and tomorrow they'll be celebrating another promotion – on an average attendance nearly 1,000 less than ours this season.
And the greatest consolation for Town fans is that when our club eventually gets itself together and achieves promotion, the momentum tends to carry through to the following season and we often go up again. For the Mariners, promotion really is like waiting for a bus: you're stuck there for ages and then two come along at once.
Labels: accrington, buses, conference, hereford, itv digital, play-offs, promotion, relegation, rochdale
Friday, 4 April 2008
Rain stopped play
Football. It doesn't really matter, does it? Twenty-two men kicking a pig's bladder about a bit of grass, and all that. There's real life, and then there's the football fan stereotype that advertisers use to try and sell us things – the one who paints his house in his club's colours and names his kids after the entire 1972 fourth division championship team.
But while football's profiteers exaggerate its importance, other sports just keep ticking along. And perhaps football could learn a thing or two from one of them – at a time when Sky TV is allowed to invent something called 'Grand Slam Sunday' and run trailers with apocalyptic soundtracks implying that every televised match is roughly on a par with the next global climate change summit in terms of its importance to the future of the human race.
The great thing about cricket is the draw. And particularly, the draw that occurs because it starts raining and the match runs out of time. Four or five entire days of sweat, toil and heroic endeavour can be nullified just because an area of moderate low pressure drifting in from the mid-Atlantic makes it drizzle a bit over certain areas of Hampshire.
This is brilliant because it's exactly like life. We've all been in the position equivalent to the cusp of a crushing innings victory, ready to revel gloriously in our mighty planet-stopping prowess, only to be thwarted by the equivalent of the rain stopping play. Furthermore, it acknowledges that cricket isn't the be-all and end-all. It says "yes, OK – it's only a game, and the course of global civilisation won't be altered as a result".
And before the morons who run the Premier League pulled out their staggeringly unpopular 'Game 39' idea, their counterparts at the Football League came up with a corker of their own. Remember Sir Brian Mawhinney's attempt to 'settle' every drawn match with a penalty shoot-out? Wondering why he's still in a job? Me too.
So let's turn the tables. Every match postponed because of the weather, instead of being rescheduled, should just be deemed a draw. A point is awarded to both teams in the normal way. A point is made that football doesn't really matter much in the grand scheme of things. And imagine the difference it will make to the problems of springtime fixture congestion!
Most significantly of all, the club most affected would be Rochdale, where Town are headed tomorrow. Spotland is notoriously prone to waterlogging, and awarding a draw for all postponed matches would deprive Dale of around 24 points per season – catapulting the Mariners above them into the play-off places. Not that football matters very much, but promotion might be nice at some point.
But while football's profiteers exaggerate its importance, other sports just keep ticking along. And perhaps football could learn a thing or two from one of them – at a time when Sky TV is allowed to invent something called 'Grand Slam Sunday' and run trailers with apocalyptic soundtracks implying that every televised match is roughly on a par with the next global climate change summit in terms of its importance to the future of the human race.
The great thing about cricket is the draw. And particularly, the draw that occurs because it starts raining and the match runs out of time. Four or five entire days of sweat, toil and heroic endeavour can be nullified just because an area of moderate low pressure drifting in from the mid-Atlantic makes it drizzle a bit over certain areas of Hampshire.
This is brilliant because it's exactly like life. We've all been in the position equivalent to the cusp of a crushing innings victory, ready to revel gloriously in our mighty planet-stopping prowess, only to be thwarted by the equivalent of the rain stopping play. Furthermore, it acknowledges that cricket isn't the be-all and end-all. It says "yes, OK – it's only a game, and the course of global civilisation won't be altered as a result".
And before the morons who run the Premier League pulled out their staggeringly unpopular 'Game 39' idea, their counterparts at the Football League came up with a corker of their own. Remember Sir Brian Mawhinney's attempt to 'settle' every drawn match with a penalty shoot-out? Wondering why he's still in a job? Me too.
So let's turn the tables. Every match postponed because of the weather, instead of being rescheduled, should just be deemed a draw. A point is awarded to both teams in the normal way. A point is made that football doesn't really matter much in the grand scheme of things. And imagine the difference it will make to the problems of springtime fixture congestion!
Most significantly of all, the club most affected would be Rochdale, where Town are headed tomorrow. Spotland is notoriously prone to waterlogging, and awarding a draw for all postponed matches would deprive Dale of around 24 points per season – catapulting the Mariners above them into the play-off places. Not that football matters very much, but promotion might be nice at some point.
Labels: cricket, draws, game 39, mawhinney, perspective, premiership, rochdale, sky, weather
Friday, 19 October 2007
The man on the Cleethorpes omnibus
Signing players is like catching a bus – you have to wait ages, and then two come at once. And then the privately owned, deregulated bus operator claims some of its routes are making a loss and threatens to close them down unless the council hands over thousands of pounds of public money in 'subsidies'.
Alan Buckley's record in the transfer market is mostly admirable, and sometimes astounding. Buckley is aware of this, and has shrewdly reminded us of it by suggesting that Martin Butler could be the new Garry Birtles. Not all of the manager's acquisitions down the years were quite that successful, however, and it is telling that he refrained last season from comparing Martin Paterson with, say, Murray Jones.
While Town were negotiating his transfer, Butler was described by the club as "an unnamed striker". GTFC then had to confirm his identity, as the media reported it before the deal was finalised – but the commercial department was already complaining to the PR office that if this new striker didn't have a name then they'd have a nightmare getting a certificate of authenticity for his shirt when they flogged it on eBay.
There are times when we need to put aside our reservations and just place a little faith in a manager with a record unrivalled in the Mariners' 129-year history. When Town and Southend were scrapping for top spot in the old third division in 1990, Southend signed a young centre-half from Arsenal, who were top of the league, and the very same day Buckley signed an old centre-half from the club at the very bottom, and we all sighed and lamented Town's characteristic lack of ambition.
That club was Halifax; the player was Paul Futcher; and the rest is history. Nearly 15 years of giddy overachievement, to be precise.
So what of Town's other new player, Shaleum Logan? Other than scoring on his debut against Rochdale last week, the Manchester City loanee showed good pace, agility and tackling – pretty much justifying the description of him by City manager Sven-Goran Eriksson, who said he seemed reminiscent of a younger Ashley Cole.
The defining passage of Cole's recent autobiography is that in which his agent phones up while Cole is driving, with the details of Arsenal's new contract offer, and the player swears bitterly and almost crashes in disgust at the prospect of having to live on £55,000 a week.
It is to be hoped, then, that Sven was referring solely to Logan's playing style, as Cole would clearly be better off travelling by bus, and we can't have important first-team players relying on the 9X to get to Blundell Park. You have to wait ages for it, and then two come at once.
Alan Buckley's record in the transfer market is mostly admirable, and sometimes astounding. Buckley is aware of this, and has shrewdly reminded us of it by suggesting that Martin Butler could be the new Garry Birtles. Not all of the manager's acquisitions down the years were quite that successful, however, and it is telling that he refrained last season from comparing Martin Paterson with, say, Murray Jones.
While Town were negotiating his transfer, Butler was described by the club as "an unnamed striker". GTFC then had to confirm his identity, as the media reported it before the deal was finalised – but the commercial department was already complaining to the PR office that if this new striker didn't have a name then they'd have a nightmare getting a certificate of authenticity for his shirt when they flogged it on eBay.
There are times when we need to put aside our reservations and just place a little faith in a manager with a record unrivalled in the Mariners' 129-year history. When Town and Southend were scrapping for top spot in the old third division in 1990, Southend signed a young centre-half from Arsenal, who were top of the league, and the very same day Buckley signed an old centre-half from the club at the very bottom, and we all sighed and lamented Town's characteristic lack of ambition.
That club was Halifax; the player was Paul Futcher; and the rest is history. Nearly 15 years of giddy overachievement, to be precise.
So what of Town's other new player, Shaleum Logan? Other than scoring on his debut against Rochdale last week, the Manchester City loanee showed good pace, agility and tackling – pretty much justifying the description of him by City manager Sven-Goran Eriksson, who said he seemed reminiscent of a younger Ashley Cole.
The defining passage of Cole's recent autobiography is that in which his agent phones up while Cole is driving, with the details of Arsenal's new contract offer, and the player swears bitterly and almost crashes in disgust at the prospect of having to live on £55,000 a week.
It is to be hoped, then, that Sven was referring solely to Logan's playing style, as Cole would clearly be better off travelling by bus, and we can't have important first-team players relying on the 9X to get to Blundell Park. You have to wait ages for it, and then two come at once.
Labels: birtles, buckley, buses, butler, cole, futcher, logan, rochdale, transfers, travel
Friday, 12 October 2007
Back off the post
The postal workers are striking; and, as usual, the media are much less concerned with telling us why than with portraying them as selfish, heartless swine whose fight for 18-hour lunch breaks and retirement at 45 on full pay will just be all the sweeter if five-year-old Sophie here in the studio doesn't receive her birthday cards tomorrow.
But changes being imposed at the Post Office could mean the workers end up with no shift patterns at all and just sit at home by the phone every day, waiting to be called in whenever. I did this when I was a factory temp, and it was horrible. Town fans underwent almost the same thing last season, when GTFC and Chester rearranged a postponed fixture at just five days' notice, and even the lady who runs the jacket potato stand couldn't get a babysitter in time.
Occasionally footballers have considered a strike. The issue was simply that their union, the PFA, wanted more of the Premiership's TV money, although I do like the notion of Wayne Rooney and Ashley Cole calling each other "comrade" at England training and taking time out between running round cones to discuss overthrowing the machinery of capitalism and handing the means of production to the oppressed proletariat.
But when top-flight footballers threaten to withdraw their labour it's not that much of a threat, since the England players stage unofficial walkouts several times a year already. Whenever the national team plays a friendly half of them seem to be working on a go-slow protest and the other half have suspiciously phoned in sick.
It says something about the popularity of football, though, that players have considered industrial action as an effective means of bringing about change. You can't really imagine a governing body being brought to its knees and caving in to a list of players' demands in order to head off the chilling danger of an all-out golfers' strike.
Derby County players famously came close to strike action to have Brian Clough reinstated as their manager in 1973. A similar situation was unlikely when Alan Buckley was sacked by tonight's opponents Rochdale in 2003, as the man who has got Town promoted three times is regarded by some Dale fans as one of the worst managers they've had.
But while most managers depend chiefly on money as the key to building a successful team, the most important thing for Buckley is time. And at Rochdale – as well as Lincoln and West Brom, for that matter – he wasn't given enough of it.
Town have to make sure we don't make the same mistake again now. And for that we might need a few striking fans to return to Blundell Park.
But changes being imposed at the Post Office could mean the workers end up with no shift patterns at all and just sit at home by the phone every day, waiting to be called in whenever. I did this when I was a factory temp, and it was horrible. Town fans underwent almost the same thing last season, when GTFC and Chester rearranged a postponed fixture at just five days' notice, and even the lady who runs the jacket potato stand couldn't get a babysitter in time.
Occasionally footballers have considered a strike. The issue was simply that their union, the PFA, wanted more of the Premiership's TV money, although I do like the notion of Wayne Rooney and Ashley Cole calling each other "comrade" at England training and taking time out between running round cones to discuss overthrowing the machinery of capitalism and handing the means of production to the oppressed proletariat.
But when top-flight footballers threaten to withdraw their labour it's not that much of a threat, since the England players stage unofficial walkouts several times a year already. Whenever the national team plays a friendly half of them seem to be working on a go-slow protest and the other half have suspiciously phoned in sick.
It says something about the popularity of football, though, that players have considered industrial action as an effective means of bringing about change. You can't really imagine a governing body being brought to its knees and caving in to a list of players' demands in order to head off the chilling danger of an all-out golfers' strike.
Derby County players famously came close to strike action to have Brian Clough reinstated as their manager in 1973. A similar situation was unlikely when Alan Buckley was sacked by tonight's opponents Rochdale in 2003, as the man who has got Town promoted three times is regarded by some Dale fans as one of the worst managers they've had.
But while most managers depend chiefly on money as the key to building a successful team, the most important thing for Buckley is time. And at Rochdale – as well as Lincoln and West Brom, for that matter – he wasn't given enough of it.
Town have to make sure we don't make the same mistake again now. And for that we might need a few striking fans to return to Blundell Park.
Labels: buckley, chester, clough, derby, england, industrial action, lincoln, patience, post office, rochdale, striking, west brom
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