I’m driving over to Rugeley: rendezvous point for our trip to Tuesday’s Doncaster League One game. It’s light and skies are blue and cheerful. The latter possibly, probably even, brought on by the fact that I have had a fine day at work – and that my football team are doing extremely well … and that we kept the team – mostly together – during the transfer window of January. Mostly? Well James Baxendale has moved on to League Two Mansfield after a successful short spell on loan there.
I can remember his grandmother being extremely pleased when he was offered a contract by Dean Smith, she felt he would come on, be looked after and prosper. Unfortunately these things don’t always go as we see them. He was overshadowed by other players brought in and spent some time in the reserves; never quite reaching that breakthrough point. I wish him well at Mansfield Town (it’s not like we have to play them this season is it?
That game at Reading is water well gone under the bridges now: it was good to be there … and The Royals were definitely the better team. Everybody is going to meet a team that’ll set ‘em back on their bums once in a while. Happily this game did not affect our promotion prospects … and on the way north to Doncaster we tell each other exactly these things.
We also talk about the sperm whales that have stranded themselves (or become beached) on the East Coast of England, the outbreak of another mosquito-borne virus in South and Central America (named the Zika virus after the forests in Uganda where it was first encountered). It is on the rise and in the media: causing an outbreak of birth defects apparently.
Refugees are still fleeing war torn Syria and British Prime Minister David Cameron is trying to seal a deal that will enable our government not to pay benefits to EU residents until they have paid into our welfare system for some time and, essentially earned some payback. The rights and wrongs are daily discussions and will lead up to the referendum on whether Britain should remain in the European Union.
Otherwise there is a review of the latest Leonardo DiCaprio film, The Revenant, based on a true story of a fur trapper in North America and, as is mentioned … “everything’s trying to kill him: the white men he meets, the animals, the natives, the countryside, the weather …”
By this time we are peeling off the M1 onto the M1 and can see the stadium lights in the near distance. Keepmoat Stadium, built as part of the regeneration of Doncaster sits in the middle of – another – out of town shopping and commercial estate. It looks impressive, feels new and is home to rugby league, football league and Doncaster Belles Ladies F.C.
It feels isolated; not part of the community in the way grounds like Crewe Alexandria’s stadium do (be there shortly too). But we spy out our parking options (limited) and cheekily creep past security onto the park next to the stadium. Bale out sharpish (though the child-proof lock on the back door frustrates a speedy SAS style hit-the-ground-running evacuation.
We stroll around feeling a biting wind and eventually find the ticket office (kind of hidden away in the Doncaster Academy doors). Buy the single ticket we need and enter the ground.
Somebody gets the beers in (I offered but Jack was insistent) and I get a pint of Rovers bitter (it includes a date but I cannot remember it, presumably something to do with Doncaster Rovers history?). But, just what I needed on such a cold night: ice cold beer!
But I notice the sign over the bar that says :”The Lucky Pint”, the sign at the opposite side is “The Harry Gregg Stand” (former Man United star and, I now think son of er Doncaster perhaps?)
We end up with a great view of the pitch, standing right at the every back wall of the stand: the wind swoops in is collected by the roof and funnelled straight towards the spot where we stand. In the floodlights the drops of heavy rain are gusted back and forth and the cloths over the empty seats at the side wriggle in the strong wind. Snow is forecast for later, but this rain is cold enough.
Doncaster are good, they sweep forward, switch, are full of pace and with some neat moves and skilful players. We are rocking unsteadily, but defend steadfastly and with no little luck on our side ( a Paul Downing hand to ball or ball to hand moment could have been a penalty )… and then what?
We are playing with reserve goalkeeper Craig McGillivray. He is different in nature to Etheridge: steadier, less dramatic, more inclined to stay on his line … but a more accurate kicker of the ball. And he is doing a fair job, called into action time after time – and up to the task.
We manage to get in at half time without conceding – but also without scoring; Bradshaw has been doing his solid job up front, but with few real opportunities. Our shooting looks more on target, which has to be good.
After a coffee and Bovril break we notice the wind has dropped, the rain stopped and it feels warmer.
We kick off, the saddlers now kicking towards the three hundred and some travelling fans. We are more aggressive this half, move the ball faster. Downing has a header that comes back off the bar, Lalkovic one saved, easily enough by the keeper. But, breaking from the middle of the pitch Sam Mantom hustles and is hustled, keeps his feet, accelerates away, into and beyond a challenge, looks up and puts all of his pent up frustration into a shot that rockets from his boot into the net. The benefits of going in at half time at nil nil eh?
Belief floods into the few saddlers fans … drains from the Rovers fans. We step up, and there is a piece of sublime magical invention from Sawyers, who takes a pass from a short corner, dribbles past and unexpecting defender, leaves him for dead, crosses low and hard across the box and Andy Taylor rockets a second goal.
Play continues: Doncaster somewhat demoralised but time drags and the y recover and grab a goal, then move up and we manage to se it out.
What a pleasing result, what an amazing performance.
Millwall at home on Saturday, but we are already talking about getting a train to Crewe.
Trials and Trails: life and times of a Walsall fan 