Oh Yeah, Like we’re Pushovers

Llanrug 0 Bangor City 2
Welsh Cup Rd 2

Most people fro Bangor were looking forward to this game as it meant the start of another perhaps glorious chapter in City’s Welsh Cup History. There is definitely more of a buzz about this in comparison to the league. I thought it also sounded interesting; a local derby in the shadow of Snowdon.

Dewi picked me up in Bangor. I’d been to see a Spanish Civil War exhibition and left the pub with Liverpool and Bolton poised at 0-0. All the talk in the car centred around the feelings of Llanrug; would they be motivated by Clayton’s comments about Llanrug’s ground? (He had said that the ground was dangerous and that someone may be killed because of a wall arund the pitch) Why did he have to say it? After about 15 minutes we pulled up in front of the ground, a line of cars acting as a sign.

Bangor were warming up in what seemed to be a new yellow away kit. I poked my head through the hedge to look at this unsafe deathtrap of a ground and I actually found it to be quite picturesque. With that done it was off to the nearest Pub for refreshment. The consensus there seemed to be that we needed to take them seriously or embarrassment would follow, we all remembered Glantreath 3 years ago. I found out an interesting titbit as Pete told me that his Grandad had fought in the Spanish Civil War.

After the Pub we went straight in and I found it to be another ground worth going to for the view; the cloud covered summit of Snowden was visible in the background. Now I had to find a place for the flag. As I was attaching it to a tree a man approached. He stated that he was the secretary and that unless it was for a good cause I couldn’t put it up. He was placated by my explanation so down it would have to stay. To me this shows the pointless parochial attitude in some parts of North Wales, maybe Clayton’s comments had stirred them up, maybe this secretary finally saw an opportunity to flex his power or maybe he’s sad, pathetic and bitter. Whatever the reason it diluted my joy at being in such an attractive area. Anyway Karma struck as we’d be attacking the other end and the afforementioned trees would not be in need of decoration. The linesman came to check the nets and his appearance was such (long hair kept out of his face with a clip favoured by Beckham) that it elicited some predictable comments.

As I made my way around the ground I noticed that the pitch sloped considerably, when passing the locals several witticisms were attempted, without any success as their humour went over my head. We positoned ourselves behind the goal and next to the chippy ballboys.

As the first half progressed it was clear that Bangor were controlling the game. Clear to all apart from our ballboy friend. He had obviously been affronted by Clayton’s remarks as every time someone said or shouted something at the pitch he came back with a response. This was usually along the lines of criticising us because we come from the big bad city and play in the nefarious Welsh Premiership. You had to laugh. Even the fact Clayton was proved right, one of the Bangor players did crash into the wall, couldn’t disuade this younster. When Paul O’Neil scored there was a distinct feeling of relief but no more goals followed so it was a narrow 1-0 lead at the break.

Some people were worried at the prospects for the second half; Bangor faced an uphill challenge, both literally and metaphorically. To look at this second half someone may have been killed but it would have been via the boots of Llanrug and not their ground. Several challenges that had probably been outlawed in the 19th century were employed by Llanrug and it was a surprise that no Bangor player left on a stretcher. The disgusting fouls and yet more sarcastic remarks from the locals made the the second goal all the sweeter.

One moment of relief came when Bangor shot the ball high over the goal. It collided with a tree and we all thought it was going to bounce off a branch and into the road. The ball had other plans and made its way to the ground bouncing off branches as it went. One unlucky soul happened to be standing under the point where the ball fell out of the tree. He was oblivious to the impending impact and continuing with his conversation. The ball came into contact with his head in a moment of cartoon-like comedy as all around were very amused, especially by the old guy’s reaction.

By the end it was no surprise that Llanrug’s numbers had been reduced, they even had the audacity to protest about someone’s second yellow. All of these petty little issues prevented me from truly enjoying my day in the country, imagine if Bangor had lost as well.