At a bit of a loose end for what to do on an Easter Bank Holiday Monday? Well I’ve got an idea, let’s go and watch some football. Crawley Town are at home, and so off we all go to sit in the glorious sunshine / horrendous heat (*delete as applicable), to watch their match against Notts County.
The battle of two clubs who both have Harry Kewell as an ex-manager this season. (Hence the chant during the first half of “we hate Harry more than you”). With only three games left this season, Notts County are rooted to the foot of the League 2 table, and their status of being the oldest league club is in serious jeopardy.
They are level on points with Yeovil, and two behind Macclesfield Town, now managed by Sol Campbell, who had an infamous spell with Notts County in 2009, They had got a new owner with big plans and they had, quite frankly gone a bit mental. They’d managed to persuade former England manager Sven-Göran Eriksson to become their manager, and had unveiled Campbell as their marquee signing. He played one game for them, and Sven disappeared not much later, and the plans of Premiership football hit the dust. Both lasting even less time than Harry Kewell in his unsuccessful spell there earlier in the season after he had left Crawley Town for “bigger and better” things. Such as the sack!
Crawley Town had only made themselves safe from relegation with wins in their last two games, Notts County need to pick up points and a lot of goals if they are to escape relegation. If they were to fall through the trap door to non-league football, then they wouldn’t be the oldest league club anymore that honour would move to Stoke City. They wouldn’t be the oldest non-league club either, as Sheffield FC hold that moniker as the oldest club in the world.
Notts County were one of the founder members of the Football League in 1888, and they only missed out on being one of the founder members of the Premier League, being relegated in the last Division One season in 1991-92, their last top flight season, so it would be a shame if they were to disappear into non-league football.
Despite there being no danger of a clash of strips, Notts County came out in their plain blue away kit, and not their black and white vertical stripes that have been made so famous by Juventus, who changed to Notts County colours in 1903 due to problems with their original pink kit fading in the wash.
There was a bitty start to the game, and it was easy to see why both teams have been struggling at the wrong end of the table. Crawley Town were struggling to get out of their own half, or string any passes together early on, whereas Notts County were doing a lot of pressing, with Craig Mackail-Smith being full of running, chasing everything down and rushing around like a lunatic, with his long flowing bleached blonde hair trailing behind him like some kind of Frank McAvennie throwback, only one who couldn’t trap a bag of cement.
But he could head a ball and did so to open the scoring in the eighth minute with a looping header that just floated in slow motion into the goal to give Notts County the lead with their first (and only) attempt on target. Crawley Town equalised eleven minutes later with their first attempt on target (of a massive two) as Ashley Nathaniel-George slowly meandered in from the far touchline, almost walking past three defenders across the edge of the area before curling a trickling shot into the corner of the goal.
Robert Milson had gone to Notts County during the transfer window, following his old boss Harry Kewell, and with Kewell now no longer at Notts County; the Crawley Town fans targeted Milson from the outset. His every touch was booed, and there were cheers whenever he lost the ball or made a mistake.
Notts County probably shaded the first half, and but for some woeful finishing could have been two up at the break. Their bad misses were met with chants of “That’s why you’re going down” and “That’s why you’re Conference bound”.
By half time we could all have done with some shade. The two blokes who had been sat next to us during the first half, went off to get refreshments, and never came back. It’s unknown whether they just left due to the “shocking level of football” – their words, or if they just migrated into another area of the ground that offered some protection from the bright sunshine.
The second half started much as the first half had gone, scrappy play and mistakes. A loose ball in midfield was contested and brought about a straight red card for Notts County’s Ben Barclay. A bit of a surprise from where I was sitting, but the referee didn’t hesitate, and the reaction of the players and some of the fans suggested it was the correct decision.
Despite the man advantage, there could have been another three halves of football without Crawley Town seriously looking like scoring. The contest became a feisty affair. At the centre of it was a running battle between the wire cleaner constructed Panutche Camara who looked as if he was moving like Bambi, and Notts County’s Matt Tootle (wearing number two), who overtook Robert Milson as the Crawley Town fans’ hate figure as the game went on.
After Tootle had gone down in instalments to win a free kick, the Crawley Town fans were chanting “cheat” in his direction, and after the referee had squirted a dollop of his disappearing foam to mark where the free kick should be taken from, Tootle scooped it up and threw it five yards further up the pitch. Cue uproar from the fans. The referee and nearside linesman hadn’t seen the moving of the foam, but the fourth official must have done, as the referee returned to make him move the ball back again. Then as he went to take to free kick a lone voice shouted out “Number two – that’s shit!”
The game petered out into a draw, with Crawley Town conspiring to miss a game winning chance in the last minute when it would have been easier to score. The draw didn’t do Notts County any favours, especially when the scores from the other games came through and both Yeovil and Macclesfield Town had drawn as well.
With the final whistle came the end of the burning sun as clouds congregated to cover the sky, as if its work of cooking us all to a crisp was done.