Sheffield United 3 Salisbury City 1

FA Cup, third round

Attendance: 10,488

Lowest ranked side still in the competition. First time ever in the third round. Drawn 200 miles or so away from home for the second round running. Salisbury deserved some extra support. “Oh,” said the chap at the club, bemused at my explanation for wanting tickets in the away end and explaining why, living in York, I wouldn’t be collecting them in person.

 You insert your ticket into the scanner at the turnstile; no pushing a grubby note towards an old man in a flat cap here. The only reason I bought tickets in advance was to avoid the potential queue at the two ticket selling points at the ground. Inevitably, this was far from a capacity match. In fact, the crowd was about half what Sheffield United attract ordinarily and the prices were £3 cheaper than the lowest graded league matches.

The away end was packed with 2,000 supporters who kept up the chanting right through the 90 mins. Above us was a curious cantilevered red fabric awning which is presumably there to catch anything thrown from the tier above (empty today). When it was illuminated from time to time by the scoreboard the drape looked like something you’d find inside the marquee at a wedding.

The stand to our right was full, the stand to our left was half-full and the stand behind the opposite goal was closed and occupied only by a single ball boy who sat (I suspect purposefully) at the bottom of the ‘U’ in the white ‘SUFC’ marked out in the seats. Like the Bolton/York tie 12 months previously you knew instantly where the party was and who, a little reluctantly, was laying on the spread.

Sheffield had eased through the first two rounds with simple home wins against Oxford and Torquay and immediately exerted their authority over further lower level opposition. Only some super saves from Salisbury goalie kept The Whites in the tie. (Duff nickname, by the way. Surely there must be better monickers linked to the city’s ancient heritage or even nearby Stonehenge). Porter opened the scoring for Sheffield when, unmarked, he slotted home inside the box. The Blades had sufficient chances to have put the tie to bed by half-time.

Salisbury – playing their sixth match in this season’s competition ­­­– came roaring out the blocks at the start of the second half. They were attacking toward us, an inflatable sheep was pinging around and the tie finally flickered into life. This is what we want! The purple patch came to an abrupt end when Sheffield got the second goal on 60 mins, a wicked deflection off a wayward shot (above). Further misfortune followed when Salisbury’s Webb (son of David Webb, who scored the winner in Chelsea’s FA Cup final replay in 1970) netted at his own end.

Showing great character, Salisbury rallied again towards the end with marauding Mackin capping a fine sub appearance by firing into the bottom left corner from the edge of the area (above). A deserved consolation but it was too little, too late, of course. By now the full moon, thinly veiled by clouds, hung high above the centre flagpole on the roof of the empty stand, maintaining its pristine symmetry. The sun had long set on Salisbury’s cup run – and mine, for that matter.

The experience of a professional football club made me hanker for a non-league ground and the sense of community and occasion that goes with it when the big matches crop up. My mind went back to the last time I was at the same match as Sheffield United manager, Danny Wilson – when he was in charge of Bristol City at Harrogate Railway in 2002. Ah, the memories. Perhaps I’m turning into an anorak but I think I’ll always prefer the third qualifying round to the third round proper. I left my heart in Barnoldswick. 

So. Salisbury plain? Well, not quite but – being the ultimate fair weather supporter, having no connection with the city other than a school trip there c 1974 and in the absence of an upset – the encounter was a little flat for me.

Happy hoppers: For another FA Cup blogger’s view of the match click here. This fella, like me, was at Barnoldswick and Staveley in the qualifiers and he’s yet to miss a round.

Programme notes: “I’ve just been out and bought a jockstrap so I’ll pad it all up and I should be OK to play.” Gillingham’s Chris Whelpdale declares himself fit despite suffering a split scrotum in a fixture against Crawley over the festive period. Um, do we really need to know this? The quote was included in the ‘Famous last words’ page.

The FA Cup problem: The perennial poser of how to reignite interest in the FA Cup is like family members deciding what to do with its elderly mother when she’s lost her marbles. We all love the old girl but she’s never going to be the same as she was and we can’t just leave her alone to die. So what could be done - other than arrange for legendary players to come out of retirement to score winning goals on their returns? The Guardian has some suggestions – and click on the thumbnail below for an amusing collection of third round TV commentary clichés.

Alfreton Town 0 Carlisle United 4

FA Cup, first round
Attendance: 1,488

“There are some things that tell you that you’re at a non-league ground” said my nephew and occasional Cup-anion Toby as he rejoined his brother Duncan and I on the terraces. “Dog footprints in the toilets”. Indeed. Welcome to the Impact Arena. Anything less arena-like it would be hard to imagine. This is a higgledy-piggledy, jerry-built ground but all the more endearing as a result of it. Only 10 years ago Alfreton were languishing in the Northern Counties League and it still shows. The narrow main stand – with three roofs at different levels – now barely has room for standard supporter accommodation. To walk the length of it is to weave in and out of the press box, Tommie Bradley terracing area and Lottie Bradley hospitality area – all shoehorned into what I imagine was previously terracing or seating. Along the way you also have to negotiate entrances to the changing rooms, bar, two hospitality suites and a sponsors’ lounge.

The opposite stand consists of thin metal poles supporting an equally flimsy roof. Behind one goal is uncovered seats plonked onto terracing and at the other end is a single, short cover that today demarked the exclusion zone between rival fans (not that it was needed). The fence badly obscured the view. Not surprisingly, the TV gantry took the form of scaffolding and plastic sheeting perched on top of one stand. Yards of multi-coloured cable festooned the terraces. Take away the breeze blocks enclosures, corrugated steel facias and hastily built brick kazis and this is a small ground inferior to most in the Conference to which Alfreton were promoted for the first time this season.

The arena (sic) is discreet within the outskirts of this north Derbyshire town (even the floodlights don’t stand out) and the muted mood matched. The Alfreton chairman described this tie as a “nice little diversion” from the fight to avoid relegation and the home fans seemed similarly unawed about the prospect of a visit by Carlisle, lying 10th in the third division. Perhaps that also had something to do with the fact that Alfreton were today appearing in the first round for the third time in seven years.

The Reds started promisingly but then conceded four goals in the second quarter of the contest as befitting the side with the worst defensive record in the top six divisions of English football. The pick of the bunch was a bicycle kick from a cross which, when I passed right in front of him, I heard the Radio Cumbria commentator liken to Rooney’s strike against Man City last season. (First goal pictured, below).

By half-time, then, it was all over bar the shouting but there wasn’t any. While understandable to a degree, this was the most astonishingly quiet match I’ve ever been to. It was as if the minute’s silence for Remembrance Day before kick-off had been extended to cover the full ninety of the match. You could almost hear a poppy pin drop. Without exaggeration the players made more noise than the fans. In fact, there were more vocals at Barnoldswick back in August.

To their credit Alfreton put up a good fight in the second half. A penalty rattled the bar and the Reds tested the Carlisle goalie but it was all, inevitably, too little, too late. They deserved at least a consolation goal, though. In true non-league fashion, a woman with a peroxide beehive pushed her child around the pitch and we too were soon perambulating to the exit.

Streete map: Turning out for Alfreton was Theo Street, son of Floyd, who played for Wolves and Reading among others. Originally, I thought that it was Floyd on the pitch but he’s 52 now, as Duncan revealed from a quick Wiki. (Funny how iPhones have now completely replaced tiny, tinny trannies from Tandy on the terraces). Remie Streete, Theo’s brother, plays for Newcastle.

Stocking filler: You can buy a DVD of Alfreton’s pre-season 14-0 thrashing of a Sheffield Wednesday XI from the club shop. Now that would warm the cockles on a cold winter’s night …

Good thrashings: AFC Totton’s 8-1 win over Bradford Park Avenue was the biggest win for a non-league side in the proper rounds of the Cup for 66 years. Stranraer, meanwhile, bagged nine without return against Wigtown & Bladnoch in the Scottish Cup last month. The match was also notable not for being a rare Wigtownshire derby. Good blogtastic write-up by The Scotsman here.

My Cup doesn’t overfloweth: Faced with no suitable tie to go to in the final qualifying round, I made do with listening to commentary on Wrexham v. York. York lost having fielded a weakened team. “No matter: we can concentrate on the league” was the tenor of the post-match Tweets to the radio station. Oh, for goodness sake! Is the prospect of trips to Accrington and Torquay next season really more exciting than the potential of taking on a Premier League side (albeit their reserves) as, indeed, the Minstermen did last season? It’s a sad day for football if it is. At this rate the only knockout competition anyone will be serious about winning is the good old FA Vase.

And then there were eight: Another sign of the times is how few clubs below Conference North/South level made the first round this season: only eight (including just two from the north) out of 603 starters. Only sperm set off on a journey with less chance of reaching their goal.

Ex-pro in the news: Steve Claridge has signed for Gosport. Interesting little film about his debut here. And what a winner he scores too.

Leek Town 1 Hinckley United 2 (aet)

FA Cup, third qualifying round replay
Attendance: 488

Leek isn’t the most obvious destination for a night out but for an FA Cupaholic in the Midlands on business on Cup replay day it was the only place to be. I was actually working near Hinckley so this was nearly an ‘howay the lads’ trip. The route wasn’t exactly aflutter with orange and white scarves, though, as I plied my way across the endless dark expanses of Derbyshire and Staffordshire. By the time I reached the turnstiles I was starting to question my sanity. My attendance at this tie was borne out of expedience rather than simple desire.

Harrison Park is a very substantial ground for this level with cover on all three sides plus large grandstand with paddock. The Conference-type set-up a hark back to Leek’s glory days in the nineties when they enjoyed two seasons at the top level, were runners-up in the FA Trophy and twice progressed to the proper rounds of the FA Cup. Today, languishing in the first division south of the Northern Premier League, two steps lower than Hinckley, Leek is a sleeping giant. But, attracting the division’s second highest average league gate of 371, you feel that the club could easily follow in the footsteps of Chorley, another ex-Conference side with a rowdy, resilient hardcore of youthful support you often get for one-horse town teams. I never know whether to admire these lads or take pity. The crowd was practically all male under 21s and old men and the majority of the few women I spotted were over 60 and had car rugs over their knees.

Most of the key action took place in the first quarter of the match. Leek started very positively and took the lead with a header off the post by Matty (footballers aren’t called Matthew) Haddrell. The “hurly burly striker” as the local paper call him then ran behind the goal stroking the outstretched hands of the fans (see lead pic). Love a bit of showmanship. Leek then nearly doubled the lead with a similar effort (video here). Within a minute of the re-start Hinckley had broken away at the other end and equalised through Gray. Thomas of Leek was then sent-off for lunging foul and, after that, the Lockmen – as Leek are called account of the town’s most famous resident, canal builder James Brindley – were always going to struggle much like the similarly reduced Welsh rugger side on Saturday.

I had the obligatoy leak in Leek at half-time (the bogs are of the breeze block, unroofed variety) really, really, really hoping that we weren’t heading for extra-time and penalties, mindful of my two-hour journey home. I haven’t wanted a 90-minute conclusion so much since the Harrogate/Torquay replay (goalless and Harrogate lost on penalties) when I had to be up at six the next day to catch a flight.

The rest of the contest was pretty much one-way traffic in favour of Hinckley and, but for some poor finishing, they would have put the tie out of sight. Leek had their moments – hitting the post again, for instance (video here) – but they were few and far between. Right at the start of, yes, extra-time a cross from the right was flicked in at the near post by Byrne. I was half-wanting Leek to draw level but equally wanting to put an end to what was an increasingly cold night. The temperature had dropped about 20 degrees since the previous round. As it was The Knitters retained their lead and go through to face Darlo in the final qualifying round.

I left the ground to the sounds of “the referee’s a wanker”. And so to the Silk Road (the one named just that in Macclesfield), around Manchester and over the Pennines at midnight. “Was it worth it?” the missus asked, as I stumbled down to breakfast. In truth – and in the absence of an upset – probably not but a night tie at a new venue was a novel experience.



Programme notes: Devon Gibson of Leek “appeared in the final of the Australian reality television series Football Superstar”. Umm, err. I take it he didn’t win. In the dubious crudentials stakes Devon rivals Tunji Moses of Hyde (see previous post).

Photography note: I inevitably struggled with the photography tonight and pinched the Matty and sending off pics from the local paper. No such problems for a  photographer at a recent Histon match who took this cracking, atmospheric shot.

Those were days, part 203: I’ve been enjoying Sounds of the Century on Radio 2. It’s a skilful blend of archive recordings and pop from each year. Here’s a great clip of two Liverpool commentaries from 1977. In an instant you will be reminded of how tremendously exciting the FA Cup final used to be and the irreplaceable thrill of a cracky football commentary on the radio (even when the commentator misidentifies the scorer). Back then a British team in Europe was genuinely that and we were all behind it.