Category: Crawley

Lucky To Get Nil

A Tuesday night game. It shouldn’t have been a Tuesday night game, as this was the game that was supposed to take place the weekend after the queen snuffed it. At the time it was disappointing as Gillingham were on a poor run of form, and I felt that it would have been likely by the time it did get played they would have turned that around and be on a good run of form, as happened to us last season when two games were postponed due to Covid protocols. But, as it turned out their form has got even worse, and by the time the game actually came along we were above them in the league and on a much better run than they were.

We started the game in nineteenth, four places and six points above Gillingham who were in the relegation zone. This was a drop in the league for us, as out away game at Walsall’s Poundland Stadium produced a Poundland result, and after taking an early lead, we let an equaliser in a couple of minutes later, Ludwig Francillette got sent off before half time, and Walsall got an injury time winner.

There was a brief pause in the constant rain we’ve had recently as we made it to the ground in time to sit down before kick-off, and I managed to get a programme (no obvious errors – apart from the ongoing lack of a league table and the issues with the season overview pages), and we saw Al who was prowling up and down the east stand in front of us for the game.

Glenn Morris, the much-loved keeper of last season is out on loan at Gillingham, which meant he couldn’t play against us and give us a hand by chucking a couple in. But we did have Jake Hessenthaler playing for us who we signed from Gillingham a few years ago.

Gillingham bought a large following with them, and most of the away terrace looked full. Not bad for a miserable November night. They would be heard at regular intervals during the game. Gillingham were wearing an all yellow kit for the big game of the day (forget this World Cup rubbish), and there were a couple of times during the first half that they may have been confused due to the yellow, as it appeared that a couple of wayward passes were straight to where they could see the stewards in their Day-Glo yellow coats.

We got an early free kick a few yards outside the area. Remarkably, Jack Powell managed to get the ball past the wall, only for it to also go just past the post. It took until just before the quarter of an hour mark for the first ball to disappear out over the west stand from a hoofed clearance from the Gillingham keeper.

The away fans were giving the officials lots of grief from early on. Our fans weren’t. I was wondering whether I was in the right place. Just past the half way point in the half, ball two disappeared out over the Eden Utilities terrace from a very wayward shot by a Gillingham striker. The first half went quickly, and three minutes added time were shown. Back to normal, and none of these ten minutes added rubbish we’ve seen in the World Cup so far.

Half time came with it being 0-0. It went with the usual same five songs, and both sides came back out at the same time.

Crawley started the second half brightly with a couple of early corners, both of which saw the ball go back out to the corner taker, only for the second ball to be the definition of disappointing, or non-existent.

The large Gillingham contingent are claiming penalties all over the place and are not impressed at all with the officials. The cries of ‘you don’t know what you’re doing’ were oft repeated, along with ‘w@nker’. (OK, I’m assuming they were directed at the ref and not Jack Powell.) It is becoming more and more like an alternative universe, as the away fans are stealing our lines.

Joel Lynch is named as the sponsor’s man of the match. I’m not sure why, but I suppose they had to pick someone. They didn’t bother announcing the crowd though. I had to look it up today, it is down as being 3,284, and I reckon there must have been 7-800 away fans.

There were another three minutes added time, which was less than expected considering the volume of substitutions made during the second half. I suppose that the ref was working along the lines of it wasn’t a World Cup game, he was sick of the abuse, and he’d had more than enough of the rubbish being played. He wasn’t the only one.

Ball three disappeared out over the Eden Utilities terrace during added time from a headed clearance, and then the ref blew the final whistle and it finished 0-0, with both teams lucky to get nil.

It was the first home draw of the season, so I was interested to see what the post-match draw music was going to be. They play The Cure’s “Boys Don’t Cry” for losses, and Black Eyed Peas’ “I Gotta Feeling” for wins. Turns out they don’t have a draw song. They play “Boys Don’t Cry” again. They really could do with some imagination in their playlist. Or even some Imagination. “Just An Illusion” perhaps, ‘in all this confusion’.

Anyway, a point, not sure a point helped either side, yes, it’s a point more, but both sides stay in the same positions in the league they started the game in.

That’s it for November games, we don’t have a game at the weekend as we’re out of the FA Cup, so the next game is another home affair, against Swindon Town on the 3rd December. I need to get there early for that one I think, as it was one of two games where all the programmes sold out before I got to the ground last season due to the volume of away fans.

Through Streets Broad And Narrow

These match reports appear to be getting later and later after the match. It’s not that I’m delaying writing them as they get written live in situ. It’s my apathy to type stuff up that is holding the process up, I need to pull my finger out and get back to typing them up the same night instead of fannying around playing games.

It is back to league action today after a cup interlude. Last weekend’s defeat in the FA Cup to Accrington was written about. Then came Tuesday night’s 3-1 loss to Championship Burnley in the Carabao Cup, and with that Lancashire double whammy it saw out interest in cup competitions come to an end for the season.

We are playing Barrow, who start the game in fourth place in the league; a single place outside the automatic promotion spots. It will be the third game out of four that Crawley have played against the team occupying that spot at kick off. Our last home league game against Mansfield saw them start there (and we won). Our last league game against Bradford City saw them start there (and we drew). So, a similar result again today would be most welcome.

We start twentieth, sixteen places and seventeen points behind Barrow, and a place lower than we were at the end of our last game. Rochdale have won a game at some point since we last played in the league.

It’s a sunny day, but I have layers with me, and a hat and gloves, just in case; as I am going straight to the game from writing. And I’m very early. So much so that the turnstiles weren’t even open when I arrived. But it did give me a chance for a chat with Al before they opened. He’s stewarding the home terrace today, and sounded thrilled about the prospect.

I have plenty of time to read the programme, and I could find no obvious typos for a change, and after two issue elevens it had issue thirteen on this time around. The music starts early and is loud, and it is a varied playlist which begs the question of what the hell happens at half time.

The sun is bright, and low, and I rang Helen to ask for sunglasses and a cap, as it would help being able to see what was going on. The Barrow supporters’ coach was here when I got here, and according to Al had arrived just before 1. They must have left Barrow when it was still dark, if not when it was the dark ages. It is a trek and a half down here for them.

As the teams come out, Barrow are in white shirts, black shorts, and white socks. Exactly as Accrington were last week, and I’m thinking I hope they don’t play like them. It is remembrance weekend and there are two minutes silence between two playings of the last post. The silence is immaculately observed, and as I look up for the start of the game, Barrow have changed shirts and are now wearing black shirts. Meanwhile the officials have come dressed like a pack of Stabilo Boss highlighters.

Both teams feel their way into the game, and just after five minutes in there is a great clearance from Ellery Balcombe, it is touched on down the wing by Nick Tsaroulla, Dom Telford takes it on and crosses it, and Ashley Nadesan slides in to tap the ball in to the net at the far post and we take an early 1-0 lead, with only eighty odd minutes to hold on to it.

Five minutes later ball one disappears over the east stand on a miscued clearance from Balcombe. Unlike last week, the opposition don’t score with the new ball straight from the restart. Always a bonus.

The first half sees a lot of back and forth without a great deal of chances for either side. Meanwhile it would appear that the highlighters must have been gotten at a bargain price from Poundland, as they are uselessly biased, and are working on the assumption that red = bad, and black = good.

There are two minutes of added time, which is just enough to see ball two spectacularly hoofed over the west stand, and the whistle goes for half time with us still leading 1-0. Read any previous match blog to see what happened at half time.

A quarter of an hour into the second half there are two penalty shouts for Barrow in the space of ten seconds, and neither are given in the first decisions to go Crawley’s way all game. They were hopeful shouts in the extreme, but you understand why Barrow would appeal. They had been given everything else up to that point. And to add insult to their feigned injuries, they pick up two bookings for arguing about the decisions. And the Barrow bench reacts by subbing both of them before they can argue their way to red card upgrades.

Two minutes late ball three disappears over the KRL Logistics away terrace from a wayward Barrow shot from about forty yards out.

The crowd is announced as being 2,588 with 150 away fans, and the sponsor’s man of the match is given to Joel Lynch.

Four minutes of added time are announced, halfway through which ball four goes out over the corner of the away end next to the west stand, and the Murray’s are off in force. This despite the fact that Crawley are defending so deep they are out in the car park. The Barrow keeper spends the last two minutes of advertised injury time, and the additional two minutes the ref pulled from out of his backside, in or around the Crawley penalty area. Thankfully all to no avail.

FFS that was a tense final few minutes, but the final whistle goes, and Crawley win 1-0. Another good result against the team in fourth place. The win, alongside other results in the division sees us jump up two places to eighteenth, and the result saw Barrow drop to fifth place.

There were muted chants of ‘can we play you every week’ during the second half. I’m not sure about that, but with recent results I’d be quite happy to play fourth place every week.

And that’s it for home games in November. The world cup will be in full swing before I’m back again.

Come on you reds.

Expect Fireworks, Get A Damp Squib

It’s FA Cup round one weekend, and we got a home tie against Accrington. Being creatures of habit, we got tickets for the seats we always sit in, and for only a tenner. Accrington are in League One, just a place above the relegation zone there. We haven’t played them in the league for a few years now, and first played them in 2004 back in Crawley’s first season in the Conference (as it was then), and we’ve had varying levels of success against them over the years.

It’s a rainy day after the brief respite on Friday, the cold November rain continues apace. We get to the ground in plenty of time, I’m surprised there is no away fans coach in the car park, I didn’t think we were that early. I get a programme, and it takes only a few seconds to spot this editions proof reading issue. It says it is issue 11 on the front of it, which means we get two issue 11’s this season, as the last programme for the win over Mansfield Town was already issue 11.

Since the Mansfield game we have had two away games. There was Colchester United on the Tuesday after Mansfield, and then the WAGMI Derby against Bradford City last Saturday. We drew both games. Two decent away points and we now are four games unbeaten in the league and have dragged ourselves up to nineteenth in the table, although still only three points above the relegation zone.

And last Tuesday we were knocked out of the Papa Johns Trophy without kicking a ball. At full time the remaining group game was a draw, which was enough for Portsmouth to go above us on goal difference, and to top it off they won the penalty shootout as well to get the extra point. Of course, it may be churlish to say, but you have to wonder just how much effort already qualified and recent rivals, Wimbledon put in to trying to win the game.

It doesn’t look as if Accrington have brought many fans with them. With no coach in sight, there are only a few pockets of fans huddled together at the back of the away terrace avoiding the rain. Obviously despite it being November the fifth, they aren’t expecting fireworks from their team.

The Sidemen thing has been rumbling on in the build up to the game. The bloke who formed the sidemen and two of his brothers have been training with the team this week. An interview with him was interesting and threw a lot more light on what the owners are trying to do. WAGMI had given a large donation to the Sidemen’s charity game a month ago, and on the back of that they have been happy to do promotional work with Crawley Town. They felt it was a great opportunity to train with professionals, and in no way were they expecting to be anywhere near the game, but it would be good if they could be.

When the teams were read out pre kick-off, they weren’t included, so it would appear that particular promotional episode is over for the time being.

Accrington turned out in white shirts and black shorts, and it was most disappointing to see that none of the players listed in their squad on the programme (a squad even bigger than Crawley’s) were called Stanley. I think they need to try harder.

As do we. First minute and we are jittery, Ellery Balcombe miscues his first touch high over the west stand, not even at the half way line. A second ball appears rapidly, and we appear to still be asleep, as Accrington slip the ball into the box, and their striker shoots, and draws a save from Balcombe, but it comes straight back to one of their players who tucks it in, and we are behind 0-1. Only the 88 minutes to sort a comeback out.

We do just about wake up and have a bit of pressure, but when we get near their penalty area, we turn into late Arsene Wenger reign Arsenal and look to be trying to walk the ball in. About twenty minutes in we get a free kick in a decent position, and it is well taken by Jack Powell (no, not a misprint, but it is his first decent touch of the game, the only one to go to a red shirt so far) and a header is deflected over. The corner sees a deeper ball from Powell which clears everyone, only for an Accrington defender to inexplicably head it back across the six-yard box and for Jake Hessenthaler to nod in to make it 1-1.

Crawley seemed to have settled down, only for five minutes later what appeared to be a nothing ball floats over defenders in our box and a simple header from the same Accrington player sees their lead restored. 1-2.

There is some back and forth play for the rest of the half, although on the balance of things, Accrington look a better side from a higher division, it’s not that Crawley are playing badly, they just find themselves under more pressure. Although Accrington are already resorting to timewasting.

Just before the end of the half Accrington get a corner, and they play it along the ground to the edge of the penalty area where a first time shot beats the hand out from Balcombe and makes its way into the top corner to make it 1-3.

Two minutes of added time are shown although it is easily double that as Tony Craig gets treatment for an injury, and we head into the break behind.

Yes, it was the usual playlist, but the entertainment was enhanced by Helen coming back to our seats, but in a world of her own she goes up the steps to the block before ours, only to then look around and not recognise anyone there before seeing me a block over, and having to go back down and around. And for a change it is the Crawley players out first before the opposition and officials.

We make a couple of half-time subs, and it is an indication of how he was playing that the biggest cheer (after the goal) so far is when it is announced Jack Powell has been subbed off. The second substitution was Joel Lynch coming on, although he may have been putting a bit much into leg day, as everything he hit early doors went far too far and far too quickly. We had some decent early pressure, a couple of shots on target and a corner.

But it is all in vain. The scorer of Accrington’s first two goals gets the ball played through to him, and he runs through and scores. The only issue being is he looks at least twenty yards offside. And not only is it allowed, and the score is now 1-4, but Lynch picks up a booking for remonstrating with the linesman, quite understandably. He’s not the only one to remonstrate with the linesman, as a fan trots down the steps and leans over the fence to have a few words as well.

Twenty minutes later the same linesman does put his flag up for an offside and it draws the biggest cheer of the day from the crowd (yes, even bigger than the goal). And the same bloke pops down to have a few more words with the lino, who seems to celebrate with a big roar and arm pumps as he runs down the line.

The crowd is announced as being 2,770, with 149 away fans, which causes a lot of people to stand up and look at the away end, where there are 30 fans tops in the terraces. Although leaning forward more we can see the away seating area is nearly full, still doesn’t explain the lack of coach though.

There are three minutes of added time put up at the end. The ref is really just making sh1t up by this point. As this is after two bookings for Accrington players for timewasting, four physio visits to the pitch and six substitutions. There should have been at least 8 minutes, although with the result a foregone conclusion and the relentless rain it’s probably doing all concerned a favour by bringing it to a premature end.

The FA Cup run is over for this year. Before it even got a chance to get going. Another cup game on Tuesday, away at Burnley in the Carabao cup, let’s hope we can avoid going out of all three cup competitions in the same week.

Come on you reds.

October Flies By

The first weekend of the month was a write off, as I spent most of it working. I never want to see a sickness reason code again in my life. (And to be honest, I never wanted to see one in the first place, but such is life.) I racked up a lot of time, so took an extra day off on the Thursday of the next week to make it a four-day weekend. Helen was off too, but she was off to deepest darkest Somerset with her mum to visit other family members. Something I politely passed on, and so I was left to my own devices.

I didn’t spend the whole time playing solitaire on my laptop (though the draw to it was real), and I was up and over in Horsham before midday, full details of that trip out are in a piece I’m writing on my Medium page.

I’d let the furry fussy pest out before going out, and when I returned, Sniffles was laid between the plant pot and the meter cupboard to the side of the front door. It is a good snoozing spot for him as he’s protected on three sides. On hearing footsteps, he lifts his head and looks around to see who it is coming before he recognises it is someone who will let him in, and he lets out a welcoming whine. Well, I’m not sure if it’s welcoming, it sounds more along the lines of ‘where the fuck have you been?’

He did the same thing when I got in from wandering around town on Friday. There is something about the way he does it that makes me laugh. It reminds me of Brad Pitt playing Mickey the Pikey in Snatch when Tommy and Gorgeous George turn up to buy a caravan and he’s squatting down having a crap and his head bobs up to see who it is that has arrived. Sniffles has mastered that action.

Anyway, on my way out on Friday I was aiming to stop and sort out physiotherapy sessions. Helen had bought them for me for my birthday and after some unsuccessful phone tag I was still no closer to a session four months on. The physiotherapist is only around the corner from where I live so I thought I’d knock on the door. So, I ambled down Southgate Drive and knocked on the door. I did think it was odd that there was a big Volvo estate blocking most of the drive that I had to squeeze around to get to the door. And when the door opened it is hard to say who was the most confused about me asking about physiotherapy sessions; me, or the old Asian woman who answered the door.

The actual house I wanted was on Southgate Road, not Drive, so I went there on the way back from town. I walked past it once because I though the blocks in the large driveway were all saying number 10, but it turns out they were all the physiotherapist’s logo marking out parking spaces. I knocked but that didn’t sort out a session. They were going to give me a ring on the Saturday to sort one out. Two weeks later and there has been no contact.

The confusion stakes carried on later in the evening. Sniffles was curled up on the blanket in the corner of the sofa when Helen rang me. As I was talking to her, Sniffles got up, looked around, and then wandered over to me and looked up before heading back to the corner. Only to come back and end up with his paws on my chest staring at me all confused. I put him down and he got the hump and went to sit on the box of Halloween decorations in high dudgeon glaring at me. He eventually came back and investigated what I was doing, but it would seem he was confused that he could hear the voice of the nice lady who usually feeds him, and fusses over him, but couldn’t see her. He was looking at me as if I had somehow imprisoned her in my phone and was wondering when she was coming back. As when the phone call ended, he curled back up in his corner of the sofa and went to sleep.

After writing group on Saturday, which went quite well considering I was winging it big time. I headed for another afternoon of walking. I got a bus to Turners Hill and meandered back to Tesco’s at which point the walking boots I’m still breaking in were making both feet and knees scream at me, so I got the bus home and vegged on the sofa all evening.

Sunday saw a bit of cooking (well, chucking bits in the slow cooker for a chili, so cooking might be stretching it) and sport watching. The GP was odd, the football mildly entertaining, and the American football very entertaining. The 49ers eased to an easy win and top the division after five games as all the other teams in the division lost. And this win despite more injuries to key players (which came back to bite us the following week as we lost to the Falcons of all teams).

Crawley meanwhile lost whilst I was out walking on Saturday. 3-0 away to Grimsby Town. I had considered going to that game and had scoped out travel times for trains and hotels for overnight stays as there wasn’t much to do with Helen being away, but I decided against it. It was a wise decision by the look of things, as another poor result saw us ending up as the strongest team in the football league – bottom – holding all the other teams up. And it saw Kevin Betsy being sacked.

I still want to go to Grimsby. Well, Cleethorpes really, as I want some photos for other pieces I am writing.

Work was still shit when I went back, but it was only four days before ten days off. Although most of that time was going to spent with relatives of mine or Helen.

When work came to an end on Thursday evening, we went and picked Helen’s mum up and headed north. We were heading for Lichfield, as an overnight stop on the way to North Wales for a seventieth birthday afternoon tea.

Three times on the journey to Lichfield the ‘smart’ motorway signs signalled to move over for workmen in the road ahead. After there being nothing the first two times it was tempting not to move over the third time in a boy who cried wolf fashion.

We turned on the sat nav for the last stretch, only for it to immediately to yell turn left, only for that to be the exit to the south and a nine-mile detour to the next junction and back before we were on the right track again.

When we got out of the car at the Holiday Inn Express at Lichfield Helen’s mum asked where the cardboard box was. What box? The box that was in the porch. Well, at a rough guess, it’s still in the fucking porch, as it’s the first we’ve heard of a box. (A neighbour was rung, and the box retrieved).

Between Lichfield and north Wales, we were told of how Helen’s mum likes to stroke bees. Which both of us found a bit bonkers, but no one else we spoke to at the party batted an eyelid at. Who knew stroking bees was a thing?

Breakfast in the pub was interesting, as the coffee was served in a cafetiere, but appeared to be instant coffee.

The invites to the party did not have a standard start time on them. Some had midday, some 12:30 and others one o’clock. Most of the relatives going to the party were in the pub first, seemingly delaying the going to the party until the last possible moment. This included Bob whose party it was. In total there were thirty-five people invited, and a miraculous thirty-one of them turned up. But there was a mini exodus from the room just before the party games started. Strategic absences involved to avoid playing feed the baby and blind makeup. Packing up only took a few minutes compared to the hours setting up the room did, and most of the relatives headed to the other pub in the village straight after.

When it comes to it being time to leave the pub to drop off a couple of people at Joanne and Bob’s and to pick up Helen’s mum, we find that the room key to our room is still in the village hall, and there is no one there for us to be able to get it. Fortunately, there was a spare so we could get into the room and get the car keys. We may also have left some tweezers behind, as before dinner Helen’s mum asked if we had any tweezers as she couldn’t find hers, and she needed to screw the curtain rail back up. I still don’t know what the hell was going on, but our rooms didn’t have any curtains, let alone rails to hang them off.

There may well have been a spare key to our room, but it wasn’t fully legit. It allowed us to lock the room when we retired for the night. But it would not open from the inside in the morning. We had to get one of the staff to go into the crawl space outside the other end of the room for us to pass the key out of the window for them to come around and open our door from the outside. And that wasn’t even the worst part about breakfast.

We get out of the pub and drop Helen’s mum off at Joanne and Bob’s and head north to Morecambe for four nights at my mum’s. Despite the attempts at force feeding and the horrendous driving conditions over the next three days out, it wasn’t a bad stay. There are lots of write ups from those days out on Medium (or will be depending on which order I post things).

We met up with Joanna and Bob at Lymm services on the way home for a handover of Helen’s mum, and after dropping her off we were more than happy to collapse on our sofa and do nothing.

I know work is rubbish, but sometimes having time off can be more tiring.

A Stag Do

It has been three weeks since we’ve last been at a home game, the disappointing loss to Stevenage (who now top the table). It’s been eventful since then.

The week after came a 3-0 loss away to Grimsby Town. I had considered going to that game and had scoped out travel times for trains and hotels for overnight stays as there wasn’t much to do with Helen being away, but I decided against it. It was a wise decision by the look of things, as another poor result saw us ending up as the strongest team in the football league – bottom – holding all the other teams up. And it saw Kevin Betsy being sacked. Something for which there had been a fair amount of clamouring for on the forums.

Last weekend saw a home game against Newport County. Another team that had recently parted ways with their manager after they had lost to the then bottom team – Rochdale. We were going to miss this game as we were away up north visiting relatives. During the game we were at a seventieth birthday afternoon tea in North Wales, and it was with trepidation that I was checking the score at regular intervals. For the second week on the trot Newport County lost to the team who were bottom of the league, and Crawley recorded only their second league win of the season in thirteen games. And with it, we crawled off of the bottom of the table and into twenty-third place on goal difference (and only goal difference behind being out of the relegation zone as well). It could have been better, but two of the other bottom four sides also won.

The Monday night saw the draw for the first round of the FA Cup. We get a home draw against Accrington of league one. A bit of a nothing draw really. I was secretly hoping for an away draw against Coalville who had knocked out Notts County in the fourth qualifying round. It would have been a good opportunity to see some old friends and do a bit of memory collection photography up in Leicestershire. As yet the time and date for the game hasn’t been fixed, let alone tickets being available.

Then on Tuesday we had the final Papa Johns Trophy group game against Aston Villa U21s. Again, a game we missed as we were now in Morecambe visiting my mum. My friend Liam is a Villa fan and so went to the game, I haven’t had the chance to ask if he enjoyed it yet. And as with the other Tuesday night home cup games this year, it was another win, with Crawley winning 5-2. This put us second in the group. But qualification for the knockout stages hasn’t been sorted yet. For some reason known only to the football league, the last game in the group, AFC Wimbledon vs Portsmouth, isn’t being played until the 1st of November. And we find ourselves of being in the bizarre position of wanting the wombles to win if we are to progress to the knockout games.

Before today’s game it is difficult to tell whether the upturn in results following Kevin Betsy’s departure is down to that new/interim manager bounce, or the fact that we are jinxes and with us not being in attendance there have been victories. Or maybe there is a bit of both involved.

Lewis Young is in as interim manager for the second time this year as the search for a new manager goes on. A lot of names have been mentioned, with the latest favourite being Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink. I don’t mind who really, as long as it settles down the team and the fans and we start winning more than we lose.

Anyway, today we are playing Mansfield Town, a team that have been one of the pre-season favourites to get promoted every year for the last five or six years. They come into today’s game in fourth place in the league, a point outside the automatic promotion spots with a game in hand on the team above them and having won four and drawn two of their last six games. Nineteen places and seventeen points above us in the table. And probably a much stiffer test for us than the two other games since Kevin Betsy’s departure.

I’ve been to a couple of games at Mansfield. They were close to where I was living during an ill-fated four-month residence in the southern most part of South Yorkshire. They weren’t very good at the time, and the ground was grim then, but it was still better than being at home.

We have a nice lazy morning before heading to the game. The weather changes half a dozen times during the morning and it’s difficult to know whether sunglasses or raincoat is going to be the most appropriate attire. I get there early enough to get a programme, and to get into the shop to see if I can get programmes for the last two games I’ve missed. I got the one for the Newport County game (the first question on the Newport County quiz was when were Stevenage formed, so the editorial quality is still somewhat lacking), but it would appear that there wasn’t a programme for the Papa Johns Trophy game against Aston Villa.

Al was wandering about as usual and was on duty in the east stand, and even did something useful as he got involved throwing the ball back into play during the second half. There is scaffolding up in all four corners of the ground and in the middle of the roof of the away terrace, which means Brighton Ladies are getting televised tomorrow.

They were watering the pitch when we arrived, which I’m not sure they needed to after the torrential downpours over the last couple of days. That and the fact you could see the oval laps of footprints in the turf from where warmup exercises had been taking place. And there were some decent pre-match tunes being played as well.

Mansfield were wearing their traditional home kit of yellow shirt with blue sleeves, blue shorts, and yellow socks. But it was a much darker shade of yellow to the one I remember from when I went to a couple of their games.

There is a chance in the first minute, Crawley are in the box, but there are passes instead of a shot, and a player goes down, but lame penalty claims are waved away. Thirty seconds later the ball is played back in and Ashley Nadesan scores to make it 1-0, and with only eighty-eight minutes to hold out.

Seven minutes in and Ludwig Francillette balloons a clearance out over the east stand for the one and only ball to leave the ground in the whole match. Just under quarter of an hour in, we get a free kick in the Mansfield half, Jack Powell swings a free kick in, and it is headed in by Tom Nichols to make it 2-0. (It was Powell’s only decent ball in all game, one that actually avoided the first defender for a change.)

Two minutes later and a long throw from the far side of the pitch goes into our penalty area and hits an outstretched arm and a penalty is given against us. The players aren’t happy and considering the push in the back the defender got before the handball I’m not surprised. The keeper is sent the wrong way from the spot kick, and it is 2-1.

Coming up to the half hour mark, and after some decent Crawley pressure, Mansfield attack down the right wing and a cross is put in, and an unmarked striker is there in the middle of the box to head in from about six yards out and it is 2-2.

From the kick-off we attempt a shot on goal which goes just wide. The ball comes back out from the goal kick and a free kick is given away just outside the D. Thankfully the wall did its job, and the ball is cleared.

There were a couple of stoppages during the half, so it wasn’t any surprise to see six minutes of injury time added on at the end of the half. Nothing much happened in it, and the half time whistle went with it all even.

Half time was the usual shit show of the same music as it ever is and Crawley coming out late.

However, the second half started in a very similar fashion to the first, there is an early attack, and Ashley Nadesan is played through by Tom Nichols, he turns the defender inside out (so much so the defender had to be substituted straight afterwards), and sends the keeper the wrong way and it’s 3-2, with only forty four minutes to hold out this time.

There is another good chance for Tom Nichols just a few minutes later, but it was well saved. The second half continued flowing from end to end, but there were a couple of injuries, lots of substitutions, and some phantom additions for so called time wasting, there ended up being another eight minutes of injury time.

The attendance was announced as being 2,802 with three hundred odd away fans (the exact number was drowned out by a combination of fan noise and piss poor speakers), and the sponsor’s man of the match was Ashley Nadesan.

There was a blatant dive in the penalty area from a Mansfield player, but the game carried on (with no booking). We had two breakaway attacks, both using the speed of substitute Jayden Davis, the first one ended up with him being caught in two minds of whether to shoot (by far the best option), or to pass it to Tom Nichols. It ended up being neither. The second should have been an easy pass through to Tom Nichols, but the final ball was a bit weak, and it was cut out. It was very nervy, but Crawley held out and the final whistle went with us claiming a 3-2 victory.

Oh, is that the Black Eyed Peas I can hear? Not for long as the cheering fans drowned most of it out. The win saw us move up two places in the league to twenty first, behind twentieth on goal difference.

Meanwhile, the ref was a cunt. Four times he gave free kicks to Mansfield after their players had clattered into Crawley players putting them down injured. If a Mansfield player pushed one of ours nothing was given. If we nudged one of their players, it was a free kick. We picked up three bookings for innocuous challenges. They got no booking for kicking Tom Fellows in the head (which caused a gash that needed gluing). There was no free kick given for a two footed lunge which took the ball and Aramide Oteh out. The keeper David Robson got a booking for timewasting after a Mansfield fan threw the ball at him with force and it bounced back off him. The bias against Crawley just continues.

But it was good to get back into the usual post-match routine of a curry at the Downsman on the way home.

The Dark Age

It’s been nearly three weeks since our last home game, the thrilling 3-2 victory over Stockport County on a Tuesday night. It lifted us a few places up the league and it really did look like we were beginning to get it together.

Since then we have lost away at Crewe Alexandra, with their goal being scored by a striker who many thought should have already picked up a second booking and not be on the pitch to score said goal.

Then came the whole Sidemen thing. A big announcement was made about Crawley doing promotional work with the Sidemen (as someone who doesn’t follow YouTubers or Insta posers, I have no idea who any of these people are, but lots do). It’s a non-traditional route that’s for certain, as with a lot of things the new owners are trying. And they are getting a load of flak for it, both from our own fans and certainly from fans of other clubs. Which isn’t surprising when the hook-up with the Sidemen mentioned scouting their charity game for a player / players to play in our 1st round FA Cup game in November.

The day they were off scouting that we were playing away at Doncaster Rovers, 1-1 at half time, it went pear shaped in the second half. A contentious penalty was followed by some capitulation and a 4-1 shellacking. Another away game in the Papa Johns Trophy came on the Tuesday night where an early sending off saw us playing with ten men for an hour of the game, but the team fought well only to end up losing 3-2. Out goals were credited to Jack Powell and Ludwig Francillette, but having seen the clips online, they both look suspiciously like own goals.

Yesterday saw a twitter video from co-chairman Preston outlining what the owners are trying to do, and a message that he’s coming over to England early. It seemed to me (as a person who speaks mainly in quotes from the film Snatch), that it was reminiscent of Cousin Avi’s “Doug, I’m coming to England” quote. I wonder whether his first words when arriving at the club would be similar to Cousin Avi’s “Sit down and shut up you big bald fuck”, with big bald being replaced by incompetent.

Anyway, onto today’s game. We have company for this one as Tom and Terri join us. I’m not very prepared as I’ve been working all morning (and will be after the game as well due to how things have gone). Walking to the ground it seems a bit quiet, and there are plenty of parking spaces down Wakehurst Drive, but getting to the ground there are a lot of people milling around and a decent queue to get through the turnstiles. I see Al on the way in, he was collecting empties off people queuing to get in, so another string added to his bow of stewarding. During the game he was patrolling our stand for the first time this season.

I get myself a programme, since last time out they have got rid of the General Manager’s comments, and the league table has disappeared. And the list of games with the player’s appearances and other stats is still as shambolic as last time out. None of the missing goals have been added back, and the used/unused sub being used twice with no yellow/red card labelling is still the same. I did think there was another typo when it said Stevenage were founded in 1976, but it turns out that’s true.

Oh yes, we’re playing Stevenage today, whereas we sit third from bottom only just above the relegation places, they sit third in an automatic promotion spot. Their manager is Steve Evans (so should they be called Stevevansage instead?), our former manager when we were promoted into the football league. It could be said that this is the New Town derby, or the twin town one, as after a few bevvies it would be forgiven to think you were in the other town if you happened to be around Queen’s Square. As always, I wonder how Steven’s relatives are getting on. It would be nice to know how the other ages are; old, new, golden, bronze, iron, and stone.

Stevenage are playing in all purple strips, as if they’ve escaped from a giant box of Quality Street. There is the shortest knee taken in history, the ref blows the whistle, gets down, and blows again to get up before most of the players had even hit the ground. He appears to like quick concurrent blasts on his whistle as he does the same again when Stevenage kick off, blowing to start and then blowing again straight away to restart.

The first quarter of an hour is quite frenetic, and Tony Craig gives away a free kick on the edge of the penalty area, picking up his traditional yellow card in doing so. We haven’t defended these very well so far this season, so it is a relief to see the kick go straight into the wall, and the rebound sail high and wide.

A Stevenage player falls over comically trying to stop a high ball going out of play. The ball bounces into the west stand and a fan throws it back at the Stevenage player as he lays on the ground. In a bit of a temper he kicks it back out, only for it to hit one of the wheelchair supporters smack in the face. The player does get straight up and over to apologise to the fan. You could bet your bottom dollar if the roles had been reversed and it was one of our players away from home, that would have seen a red card.

I blink as I jot the above down and the throw in ends up in our penalty box and a shot sees it in the back of the net and we are 0-1 down, and I’m not sure how it happened. The goal prompts a red smoke flare to be released by the visiting fans in the away terrace. The game hardly restarts before Corey Addai is down and getting treatment.

A few minutes later we have a penalty shout as James Tilley’s shot is blocked by a sliding defender’s arm (above his head). It isn’t given, unlike the soft one the week before away at Doncaster.

The half hour mark sees ball one gone from the ground as a miscued hoof from one of our lot disappears out over the East Stand. This is followed by a couple of decent Crawley attacks and quite a few more blocked shots. Only for Stevenage to work it down to the other end of the pitch, get a player free in the area and their shot to come back off the angle of post and bar when it looked easier to score. A bit of a let off that one.

Not long before half time a blatant push in the back on Tom Nichols in the penalty area. It beggars belief how these things keep getting missed. Just after four minutes of first half injury time is shown there is another penalty shout as James Tilley gets upended in the box whilst attempting a shot. Nothing doing again, and the subsequent clearance disappears out over the East Stand, for ball number two of the day.

The half time whistle is blown with it 0-1. Yes, half time was the same as it ever was. Well, apart from there being no need for the sprinklers. The pitch is showing signs of being soft with all the recent rain before any more water is added to it.

Within two minutes of the restart we have an equaliser. There are a couple of shots in the box and the keeper fails to hold onto the ball and Ashley Nadesan is there to prod the ball home from about three yards and it just about trickles in to the goal to make it 1-1.

There is a lot of back and forth, and it appears that the whistle can only be blown if it appears to be a foul be Crawley. The same thing is ignored if it is instigated by Stevenage. Their players don’t need any excuse to fall over either. Half a dozen have fallen over when not within yards of a Crawley player, and others are halfway down before they instigate contact with a Crawley player, and each time they fall, the ref falls for it. It is well beyond a joke now.

Oh, and what’s this? Handball apparently by one of our players. It’s impossible to say who as there didn’t appear to be a handball there at all, and half a dozen of the team were in the general vicinity. The Stevenage penalty taker tucks it away as the Crawley players make their displeasure well know to the referee. Tom Nichols going for it big time. It’s 1-2, the only surprise is there is no yellow card for dissent. It seemed less of a handball than the one given the previous week at Doncaster, or the one not given in the first half for us.

Five minutes of injury time are put up, and the crowd is announced as being 2,732 with 319 of them being away fans. Stevenage time waste most of that five minutes without any fear they might be told to hurry up or get a yellow card for it. A joke when you count up the number of yellows given to us so far this season for less blatant time wasting. Absolutely no fucking consistency. The final whistle goes and it’s another defeat. 1-2. We stay third from bottom, now only on goal difference, and Stevenage stay third. There is no way the gap between the two teams is that much.

Looking at the match stats after the game tells a bit of a story. Apparently, the foul count was Crawley 16 – Stevenage 4. In what was an even game. It just shows what a shit show it was from the officials. Again.

Back to work for me now. Next week we are away against Grimsby Town in Cleethorpes. I wouldn’t have minded going to that to get some photos for some pieces I want to write, but it’s not practical this year. Perhaps next year.

Why Is Everywhere Shut?

The lawnmower has had enough of our shit. After sitting most of the long scorching summer in the shed, as there is no need to mow dry yellow chaff, it got called into action to deal with the sudden growth spurt the last couple of weeks’ worth of rain had brought about in making it a jungle out there. It managed three quarters of the “lawn” before some very ominous looking smoke came out of the bottom of it as the motor packed up. A new model will be required. Even so, I’m not convinced I would have been poking it and trying to get it to move whilst it was still plugged into the mains, unlike Nathan who was doing the mowing.

In case I missed anyone with my blanket social media approach in the week. I’m more than excited that I have some of my writing in print. In a proper book. Two collections of work have been published with my work in. A collection of writing about and from the Home Counties, in which I have one piece in the Sussex section. And a collection from the East Midlands, in which I have a poem and two short stories in the Leicestershire section. Next step – get something published which has my name on the cover.

I went to the doctor’s Friday morning. They wanted a routine blood pressure test. Which is never routine where I am concerned, as they take it, look at the reading, look at me – the fat blob sat in front of them – and take it again. Only to get the same result and be surprised that fat doesn’t equal high blood pressure.

What was more interesting about the trip to the doctors was the Crawley wildlife I passed on the way there and back.

On the way there, a couple, in their thirties, possibly early forties, were walking along Wakehurst Drive in the opposite direction to me, and on the other side of the road. There’s a stretch with a long wall / fence with some grass in front of it, but no houses. He was stopping to have a piss. She was squealing at him not to do it in the middle of the street in the middle of the day. He was saying that if you’ve gotta go, then you’ve gotta go. She said she also desperately needed to go, but you wouldn’t catch her pissing in the street. All this not much more than a minute’s walk away from the Downsman, which was open.

Coming back, I got as far as coming out of Best One after getting the local paper (a bumper edition, but nearly fifty of its pages were Queen’s death related filler) and a scruffy bloke of indeterminate age was saying, ‘is that a trick question?’ To which, a woman equally as scruffy and also of an indeterminate age replied, ‘no it isn’t a trick question, do you want a pot noodle to eat?’ I don’t know what the response was as he proceeded to neck the remaining contents in his bottle of cider before answering, and by then I was out of earshot.

Only to turn in Baker Close and find the piss couple sat on the wall at the top of the close, now with a little dog in tow. Which they hadn’t had half an hour before. I’m not sure that little puppy is going to get the best toilet training.

Over the last couple of months there has been a new phenomenon of scantily clad tarts whose profile pictures are mainly made up of their cleavage, following me on Instagram. Some are hawking for business on Only Fans, a couple are blatantly selling sex, but the majority have profiles saying they are ‘looking for love,’ ‘need the right man,’ ‘single and looking for a good man.’ As if it’s fucking Tinder. It’s amazing how many black holes are using Instagram as a dating site. A lot of them also have a large side of fanatical Christianity mentioned alongside their barely clothed bodies and man hunting. I must have missed the part in the Bible where it was saying to advertise your bits like a hooker to find ‘real love.’

We wandered over to Horsham on Saturday afternoon. Helen needed to return some things to a Cancer Research charity shop, and we don’t have one in Crawley, so it was the closest place. As she was getting a refund, I was finding a nice haul of vintage Ladybird books, a vinyl Motown box set I didn’t already own, and some trousers. Horsham also still has their H&M, as they think they are too posh for Crawley. Helen spent her refund in there instead. And there was that awkward forced social interaction moment. The one where someone from work sees you before you can hide, and worse still they speak to you.

Additionally, Horsham still has an Ask. Whereas Crawley are only left with Prezzo, and their microwave meals. So, we went for dinner there. We had nearly finished when they seated four women on the table next to us. One had a tight t-shirt with Abercrombie and Fitch across the chest. I thought it was a strange thing to call your tits.

We passed on dessert so that we could go to Rockafella’s instead. A good decision. I went for a massive sundae (even though it was only Saturday), but narrowing the choice down to just a single sundae was tricky.

On the way to Horsham, we drove through the village of Colgate. And do you know what? We didn’t spot a single person brushing their teeth anywhere in the village.

Meanwhile, the recent unbeaten run of Crawley Town came to a halt away at Crewe Alexandra. Judging by the difference in the match stats between half time and full time, it would appear that they didn’t bother coming out from the dressing rooms after half time at all this week, and not just their traditional two minutes later than the opposition.

On the plus side the 49ers played well and rolled over the Seahawks 27-7. Always good to give the dirty birds a bit of a shellacking. The game also saw us sort out any quarterback controversy for the rest of the season. Unfortunately, this was because Trey Lance is now out for the season with a broken angle, and therefore we are back to Jimmy G.

I think I haven’t been writing much over the last few months, and that I’m more up to date with my filing than I am. I came to file the copies of my recent writing, and there were two inches worth of sheets of A4. And that was before they went in plastic wallets. Of which I thought I had plenty, only to get close to the bottom of the pile before I ran out of paper to put in them. Then I found that some of the folders I was filing away in were full to bursting. This would suggest that there appears to be nothing wrong with the quantity (and with being published now, the quality can’t be that bad either), it’s just that the effort needs to be put into the correct channels. Less rubbish blogging like this and more work on the various novels that I have as works in progress. What I though would be a twenty-minute task ended up taking the best (or worst) part of three hours.

At least it meant that I wasn’t watching Mourn Hub. Helen put it on briefly whilst the big box was in Westminster Abbey. It got turned off when Liz Truss came on and started blathering something or other. Helen said she hadn’t noticed before that Liz Truss was speaking out of the side of her mouth, like some kind of untrustworthy spiv. I thought that it was an improvement from where she usually spoke out of.

We could still hear the whole ceremony through the wall though. But they were on satellite delay, as they were at least three minutes behind live TV.

Finally Off And Running

It feels like a long time since we last had a home game, but it is only a fortnight since we drew with Portsmouth in the Papa Johns Trophy and then won a penalty shoot out to claim the bonus point. The Saturday after that we drew away at Salford City, the second straight Saturday we had gained an away point in Greater Manchester. Then last Saturday’s home game against Gillingham was postponed after the death of the Queen on Thursday.

The date for the rearranged game against Gillingham hasn’t been set yet, but it’s bit of a shame it has been postponed as Gillingham are struggling to win as well, and it might have been a good time to play them. Now it will be played on a random Tuesday night, probably just after they hit a streak of good form.

Our opponents tonight are Stockport County. Freshly promoted from the National League. We were promoted to the Football League the year they were relegated to the Conference, and as such we have not played a competitive game against them. Their fans were scathing of our stadium in the season preview in Four Four Two, saying it would be a nasty reminder of playing in non-league. Which is fairly fucking cheeky considering how much of a delipidated shithole Edgeley Park was in the early noughties (They were in what was Division 2 then, and I went to a couple of games, back when you could rock up and get a ticket on the day.) And the fact they used to play their home games on a Friday night, so they didn’t clash with the two Manchester clubs and therefore get a few more people in.

We start the game in 22nd, just out of the relegation places on goal difference. Stockport are in 18th, four points ahead of us, and they won their last game, a 1-0 win over the Wombles.

It’s been raining on and off all day, but it hasn’t been windy so it shouldn’t be coming in sideways to get us wet sat in the east stand. It’s nearly dark as we walk to the ground, a combination of the quickly drawing in nights and the weather. I suppose the Stockport fans will be used to this kind of weather.

I get a programme; they still need a proof-reader. The message from the General Manager said we lost to Rochdale (a draw), if the General Manager can’t get these things right what hope are we supposed to have?

We see Al, he’s on duty on the Eden Utilities terrace again. Trying to stay in the corner where there is the least rain.

Stockport County are wearing their third kit, all yellow, like faded highlighter pens, which is a shame as I was hoping for their faux Argentina second kit.

There is a minute’s silence before the kick off, which is very well observed, and followed by the National Anthem, which was sung slightly out of time by most of the crowd.

The pitch certainly didn’t need watering. It stopped raining briefly as we walked to the game, but when the whistle went the start the game, it brought in the rain to teem it down for most of the game. It was playing havoc with the linesman’s hair (for those who weren’t there, he was bald).

Five minutes in and we win a ball in midfield, pass it through to James Tilley, who takes a shot from twenty-five yards out. It takes a slight deflection and ends up in the bottom corner of the goal and we lead 1-0. Only eighty-five minutes to hold out this week.

On seventeen minutes, Stockport have a breakaway. A ball is put through which looked suspiciously offside, but the Stockport striker latches on to the ball and tucks it in to make it 1-1. (Twelve minutes we held on.)

And it nearly got worse straight from the kick off, a careless back pass puts in Stockport’s number ten, but thankfully he scoops the ball over the goal. A couple of minutes later the ref slips as he runs to keep up with play and struggles to get back up and blows his whistle to halt proceedings.

Just before the half hour mark a ball is played into the area, and Dom Telford brings it down brilliantly with the outside of his left foot, and he is through on the keeper, but unfortunately it is a weak shot and straight at the keeper.

Five minutes later and it is Stockport’s turn for a horrendous back pass. One of their defenders passes it straight back to Tom Nichols, who passes it across to Dom Telford, who just gets it past the keeper and into the corner of the net for his first league goal of the season, and we lead again 2-1 (only fifty-five minutes to hold out this time).

It takes until nearly half time for the first ball to disappear, a ball bounces off James Tilley’s knee and over the East Stand. Two minutes of injury time are indicated before it is half time.

Half time playlist is…. not changed, probably the only broadcaster where they haven’t changed the playlist to a dirge. But it is the same old songs, so perhaps even the dirge might have been a good change. And the two minutes later back from half time happened again.

Six minutes into the second half and we concede a free kick towards the right-hand edge of the penalty area. The wall is lined up, and for the third time this season the free kick sails over the wall and into the top corner of the net. 2-2. For fuck’s sake, stop conceding free kicks on the edge of the area, it’s almost as good as a penalty to the opposing teams.

Ten minutes into the half and there is a Crawley break, Tom Nichols pings the ball across to Nick Tsaroulla, who cuts inside and takes a shot from outside the area which flies into the bottom corner and it’s 3-2. With thirty-five minutes to hold out.

Straight from the restart Stockport attack and get the ball into the box and their shot is very well saved by Corey Addai, and there is a deep sigh of relief from three sides of the ground.

Halfway through the half, ball number two is hoofed over the east stand by Tony Craig. It’s quite possible that one landed somewhere in the grounds of Thomas Bennett. The ref seems quite hot on potential time wasting (as well as blowing his whistle if any of the Stockport players fall over). So much so he was literally pushing Crawley players off the pitch when they were getting substituted (and he booked Corey Addai in Injury Time).

Speaking of Stockport players falling over, it must be because they are top heavy. I’ve never seen such a collection of barrel-chested freaks playing for one team at the same time. They must all be putting in extra time in the gym when it’s chest day.

Five minutes before the end of normal time, ball three is out over the east stand. It’s Tony Craig again, but not with as much force as the previous one.

The crowd is announced as 2,187 with 376 away fans, not a bad effort to get down from Manchester on a Tuesday night. The sponsor’s man of the match is Ludwig Francillette. WTAF? I’m assuming they spent most of their time at the hospitality bar and not watching the game.

The board goes up and the announcement is made and it’s six minutes, Doug E Fresh you’re on. No, sorry, it’s six minutes of injury time not Doug E Fresh. We are defending deep in injury time. If we get much deeper, we’d be at the bottom of the Marianas Trench.

The full-time whistle goes, and it is a Crawley victory. 3-2. And a Tom Nichols hat-trick of assists. The win takes us up to the dizzy heights of 20th, only a point and two places behind Stockport now. Let’s hope we can keep it going when we travel to play Crewe Alexandra on Saturday.

Come on you reds.

Has Something Happened?

So, after surviving ninety-six years, and lasting through having Boris Johnson as the Prime Minister, it says a lot that after one day of having Liz Truss as prime minister, the Queen decides, enough of this shit I’m off.

And why is it that no one ever pays attention to Public Enemy. They were telling us over thirty years ago – “Can’t Truss It.”

I’m sure that the Irish are looking forward to calling Charlie boy king. There’s no way they are going to miss out on calling him Charles the turd (their usual pronunciation of third).

Anyone suggesting Elton John does another version of ‘Candle In The Wind’ deserves to be shot. A Kunt And The Gang version on the other hand…..

The only thing I can think of is new post boxes. They have the initials of the monarch and post office on them. Which means they will be C 3 P O going forward.

Meanwhile, after yet more sporting postponements on Friday, it was back to the studio for a couple of hours of desperate filler. Here on Sky No-Sports News.

Most shops were still open on Friday. There were only really the British Heart Foundation charity shops that weren’t. Although someone had been working late into the night on Thursday to remerchandise the window display so that all the items on display were black. Shoes, bags, coats, dresses, shirts, trousers, hats, scarves, jewellery. Almost as if the window were dressing to go to a funeral.

Nathan got himself a Subaru Impreza on Friday. I could hear it growling from the next postcode as I came back from the shop early Saturday morning with milk (we gave up on the delivery as they were incompetent fucks), as he was getting ready to drive to work. It’s a bit of a difference from the Kia Venga diesel he’s been driving for the last eighteen months. Not convinced I’d want to be refuelling the new beast.

I’m in town nice and early on Saturday morning, the shops aren’t open yet, and the only people milling about are those waiting for the shops to open. Not because they want to start shopping, only because the poor sods have to go and work there.

Maccy D’s is open however. I’m just not sure the staff are awake though. They are struggling to tell the difference between eat in and take away. A family wanted to take away only to be given a tray with all their food and drink piled on. I wanted to eat in, but mine arrived in a paper bag. None of the ordering machines were giving out receipts. And the twelve-year-old who put my order together in the bag called out the wrong order number. Twice. And speaking of their machines they are really pushing their new rewards app. Three times I had to say no, just give me the fucking option to order food. I’m not sure it’s going to convince me to use the app. It’s more likely to make me not use Maccy d’s full stop.

I took my customary window seat, and had a better view than usual, as the dodgy, cash only, phone accessories and sunglasses trailer wasn’t blocking most of the vista. There were a lot of people who looked as if they wished they were anywhere else apart from trudging to work. Can’t say I blame them.

And with the announcement of another Bank Holiday this year for the Queen’s funeral, I’m not convinced I want to go to work either, as it will be me who needs to go into the system and update all the Bank Holiday calendars and give all the shift staff an extra eight hours holiday entitlement for the year.

Not sure why County Mall has a massive globe hanging from the roof. It would appear that if Crawley can’t go to the world, then the world must come to Crawley.

The Crawley game, as all football game at all levels, has been postponed. A bit of a shame as Gillingham are struggling to win as well, and it might have been a good time to play them. Now it will be played on a random Tuesday night, probably just after they hit a streak of good form.

I will get some sport this weekend though. F1 is still going ahead, so there will be the Italian Grand Prix this afternoon. And the NFL is back. After reigning Superbowl champions the Rams got a good shellacking Thursday night (always satisfying to type that), this evening will see the rest of the NFL get involved. Scott Hansen will utter those immortal words at 6pm. ‘Seven hours of commercial free football start now.’ The 49ers start their season against the Bears, who are ranked dead last in the NFL power rankings, and as we are ranked third (not turd as the Irish may say), history tells us it means we will struggle like fuck and try our best to lose the game, only to scrape to a narrow win late on.

Portsmouth Penalties

Another Tuesday night, another trip to the Broadfield Stadium to see Crawley play. This being the fourth Tuesday on the trot we’ve been here. Last Tuesday saw the great result of beating Premier League Fulham in the Carabao Cup. It also saw five hundred moronic fans invade the pitch, punishment for which we are still waiting for the Football League to impose.

There was a fair bit of press following the victory. A lot of it was fans and managers (of other clubs) talking about how the Carabao Cup isn’t a priority, and that it’s a bit of a Mickey Mouse trophy. Well, if that’s the case then tonight’s game in the Papa Johns’ Trophy might need to be described as the Goofy or Pluto cup, as it’s not even up to being Mickey Mouse.

And it may well be seen as somewhat of a distraction. After the Lord Mayor’s show of beating Fulham came the dog’s breakfast of drawing away at bottom of the table Rochdale on Saturday. We scored just before half time, only to then show why Crawley Town aren’t allowed to own dogs as we failed to hold onto the lead. Plus, Nick Tsaroulla was sent off, and the match stats weren’t pretty reading. It beggars belief how we can beat a Premier League side on Tuesday and only just avoid losing to bottom of the Football League on Saturday with the same players.

Not that I’m expecting to see the same players again tonight for the visit of League One Portsmouth. It would be difficult for Crawley to take this trophy any less seriously than last season where we managed to lose all three group games – 1-6, 0-4, 0-4, to finish rock bottom and with the worst goal difference of any team in any group. But I’m not holding out much hope.

I would love to be wrong, as taken seriously this could be a trophy we could win. League two sides have gotten to the final every year for the last six seasons, and a couple have won it. And if we hadn’t started the league season like an out-of-control dumpster fire then we might have gone for it, but I can’t see it somehow. We only have two points in the league and are only out of the relegation places on goal difference.

Apparently, Portsmouth have sold over a thousand tickets for the game, and from a Crawley Town perspective there seems to be more appetite for the games this season. Well, at least they are opening the whole ground for the game, and not keeping the east stand shut as they did last season. My knees will be happy with the extra couple of inches leg room in our usual seats.

This will be the fourth time we have played Portsmouth in this competition, and the second time at home, and we have lost all three previous games, with the previous game at the Broadfield Stadium finishing 0-1. We have played Portsmouth in the league six times, with just the one victory (in League One in 2012), and one draw (League Two, 2015).

Despite being there in plenty of time there were no programmes left they has all sold out, the seller saying they hadn’t printed very many. Eagle eyed Helen did spot one lying discarded in the stands towards the end of the game. I’m quite glad I didn’t pay for it as there was virtually no content to it. I suppose it minimises the risk of their usual errors.

Portsmouth were playing in a pastel mint green top with black shorts. The away end was full of their fans as expected. The Crawley sides of the ground weren’t as full, with plenty of room for people to move around and change seats or move to the terraces during the game. An opportunity not passed up by a number of fans.

It wasn’t Crawley’s strongest eleven out there, but it wasn’t a complete change in line up from Saturday and the previous Tuesday. Judging by the shirt numbers Portsmouth players were wearing, they were playing a decent strength side as well.

Just six minutes into the game, after giving himself a few seconds thinking time, the referee points to the penalty spot after a foul on James Tilley. And Dom Telford slots away the resulting spot kick for his first competitive Crawley goal, and we lead 1-0.

Portsmouth were having the best of the exchanges after that, and it took until the twenty sixth minute for the first ball to sail out over the West stand from a wayward clearance from their keeper.

We came back into it a bit the longer the half went on, with some decent crosses from the left-wing creating chances that were missed, and then not long before the break a ball over the top is latched onto by James Tilley and he puts it across the six-yard area where David Bremang just fails to steer his lunge for the ball in.

The half time whistle goes with a 1-0 lead for Crawley, and the usual rubbish happens. You will have read this a lot so far this season. The dreadful ‘Just Can’t Get Enough’ version starts off the same half time playlist again, and the Crawley players come back on to the pitch a couple of minutes after the opposition.

As the second half kicks off it would appear that we have drafted in a kazoo player to aid the drummer in our stand. Either that or there was a duck hunt going on under the stand. Meanwhile Portsmouth had brought drummer, a trumpet player, and their world-famous bell ringer, plus another instrument I couldn’t make out, like they were bringing a mini orchestra.

A lot of the play in the second half is being dictated by Portsmouth. They seem quicker and are winning more of the second balls. Their battery of half-time substitutions helping. And with about fifteen minutes of normal time left they get a corner which is easily nodded into the net, and we are pegged back to 1-1.

Six minutes later a through ball to a Portsmouth player on the edge of our D, sees him spin the Crawley defender and rifle a shot into the bottom corner and it has completely turned around as they now lead 1-2.

The crowd is announced as being 2,340, with 1,111 away fans. At which point the Portsmouth fans start singing ‘We brought more fans than you!’ It would appear that maths is not their strong point. The sponsors’ man of the match is announced as James Tilley. Not many would argue.

A minute before the end of normal time, a Portsmouth shot is smashed way over the KRL Logistics stand, and that may not have stopped travelling until it got to Cheal’s roundabout.

Six minutes of injury time are put up. There had been a lot of subs and people lying down. Just past halfway through the injury time there is a big cheer as the ref slips over in midfield. A bigger cheer comes about ten seconds later when he is called into action to award Crawley their second penalty of the game. (It has to be said, I would not be unhappy to have this ref again, we’ve got the rub of the green a bit. I’m sure the Portsmouth fans aren’t so enamoured and had been making their feelings clear throughout the second half.) This time David Bremang steps up and hammers the ball into the top corner and it is 2-2.

Which is how it stays at full time. 2-2 and a point apiece. But under Papa Johns’ Trophy rules, in the group stage, drawn games then have a penalty shoot out for a bonus point. I don’t think all the fans knew this, and a lot were leaving before it was announced over the tannoy system what was going on. The penalties were taken at the Eden Utilities stand end, and the terraces there had filled up a lot from how they were during the game as people got close to the penalty taking action.

Portsmouth were first up, and their first penalty was missed well past the left-hand post. 0-0. Jack Powell strolled up to take Crawley’s first penalty and scored. 1-0. Portsmouth scored 1-1. David Bremang scored his second penalty of the night 2-1. Portsmouth scored 2-2. Tony Craig scored our third one 3-2. Portsmouth scored 3-3. Man of the match James Tilley had his penalty saved 3-3. Portsmouth scored 3-4. Ashley Nadesan scored to even things up and send it into sudden death 4-4. Portsmouth scored 4-5. Mazeed Ogungbo scored to keep it going 5-5. Portsmouth have their penalty saved by David Robson 5-5. Rafiq Khaleel scores to make it 6-5 and give Crawley the bonus point.

It gives us a decent chance of going through. The next game in this competition is against AFC Wimbledon, and we can’t possibly play as badly against them as we did earlier this season. They won against the Aston Villa under 21s.

It turns out Al was working the game, not sure where he was hiding for most of it, but he was inspecting the empty terraces of the Eden Utilities stand as we were leaving, only to manage to then be directing the traffic near the roundabout as we crossed over.

And we move on. Another trip to Greater Manchester for the team with Salford City away at the weekend. Let’s hope for more than the trip last weekend to play Rochdale.