Bangor City 8 Port Talbot Town 1
Welsh Premier League
This was the match the gods wanted to stop. First the cold weather god brought the frost. Then the wet weather god brought patchy flooding via rain. Then the electricity god gave us a power cut. Consequently the hour before kick off saw Farrar Road filled by people with pensive faces and men with industrial size brooms sweeping water off the pitch. The pitch looked fine to our untrained eye but the match was in doubt. Some people were heard muttering about political correctness and what would have happened in their day. After the cliched “endless deliberations” the pitch was passed fit, which meant all we had wait for were the lights. The match would start but would we see the end?
Whilst the match took place in front of me I was afflicted by the strange sensation of deja vu. My affliction was the fault of Britain’s discounted bookshops as they offer so many bargains for the book lover. Earlier in the week I’d bought “Roy of the Rovers; The 1970s” for £2.99 and Art mirrored reality to a disturbing degree.
The main season featured in the compilation was marked by a lengthy unbeaten run for Melchester Rovers. During this season the fans constantly fretted about whether they’d keep it up, just like I do! In the Melchester stands there were constant worries about the opponents taken too lightly, just like the message board! Even optimistic Dylan said today would be tough. Bangor’s keeper slipped to let Port Talbot have a score, Melchester’s keeper did that in several matches in the book. Lack of sleep and 1970s comics cause terrible problems for one’s perception of reality.
Then real reality took over. Reedy gave what can only be described as a “Roy of the Rovers” performance; he scored 5 of Bangor 8 goals. The last one was particularly cute; a flick past the keeper with his back to goal. Peter Hoy football genius scored a double and Garside scored as well. There was a connecetion with 1970s comics in the match, Bangor’s players required Roy Race-esque heroism to remain upright. The pitch may have looked eminently playable before the game but as soon as the players started splish sploshing around you realised just how much water was stored in the turf. To put this another way; the preponderance of precipitation produced puddles yet Bangor’s play personified panache. The touch and balance of the Bangor players was exquisite. Every flick, touch, pass or positioning decision was deftly executed. If Alan Partridge were commentating he would have dubbed our performance as “Liquid Football”, and not just because the spectators were sopping wet. The football certainly didn’t dampen the enthusiasm of the crowd.
Bangor not only hit their fluid stride they also took advantage of some weak parrying by the keeper and some disorganisation in the away defence. If there was a dubious goals panel in Wales, at least two of Bangor’s goals could have been deemed own goals. Unlike some of the more excitable fans gloating didn’t sit well with the Jet Set.
Firstly another inexperienced brother goalkeeper was in distress. Secondly the Jet Set enjoys such bonhomie with the Port Talbot ultras that there was no honour in celebrating too much. We enjoyed a good chat with Nigel as well as a sneaky tot of firewater. During our chat some Smart Aleck made a twatty comment, as if Nigel and the rest of the Ultras were idots. What bad form! But then there are always some idiots.
Despite conceding goal after goal their trumpeter still trumpeted and the PTFC Ultras still sang. They were still going at 8-1 down. They even sang “Oh aye , we are Bangor aye” in tribute. Unfortunately the Jet Set couldn’t make it up to the Regency for the drinking session with the Ultras and much comradely behaviour. We hope to see them in the scintillating six after Christmas.
Aberystwyth Town 1 Bangor City 3
Welsh Premier League
With Britain suffering a plague of bad weather (due to the election of a Conservative government) we couldn’t feel sure that this match would go ahead. Other games had been postponed in the last week so we couldn’t help but worry. Once I was waiting for the coach I knew it was on, I was finally able to revel in the fact that we were on the favourite jaunt of the Bangor City Ultras. Festive cheer added to the enjoyment.
A few hours after leaving Bangor we were in Aber’s charming hostelries, which is easily done as Aber is choc full of ’em. Cold drink followed cold drink and the anticipation of more glory built appreciably. This could be another of our days! As we basked in the warm alcohol-induced euphoria Jet Set doubts about the winning run resurfaced. Were the worries related to the fishcake with the odd taste?
At first the ground was cold and empty, but then the Aber under 3s emerged. A chill went through the Jet Set as we studied their green and white santa hats. We were right out of our manors.
When the game commenced I noticed that the Aber goalkeeper was wearing a snood. If ever there was image that sums up our media-led namby pamby age, it’s a semi-pro player trying to look like a homesick Brazillian. Some terrace wag dubbed him “Snoody” and the name stuck.
It’s wasn’t long before Bangor City took the lead, as one would expect when Bangor City play football. It’s almost as inevitable as night following day. Les dribbled past and through Aber’s defence before forcefully caressing the ball past Snoody. Everybody knew we were on easy street once again, we all relaxed and the Aber Under 3s were subdued.
Somehow Aber found the gall to shake our assumptions. They actually pressured our defence and forced Smithy into making a save. They actually had the cheek to try and score! Their impertinence was rewarded with a goal just before half time. The Under 3s were exultant. Snoody did a victory jig type movement.
The second half was a very exciting cliché; end to end stuff. Every Aber attack was heart-fluttering. Every Bangor attack brought hope but the best efforts of Reedy, Bully and Les failed to produce a second goal. The ball simply splatted into the mud one of them was about to shout. Each corner was a new chance but each corner was wasted, it was all a bit frustrating. Then somehow Smithy was ordered from the pitch.
The “incompetent” ref somehow managed to see a foul where there wasn’t one. This much was clear even from our distant vantage point. Peter Hoy Football Genius donned the gloves of destiny. Needless to say he didn’t let a goal in. The incompetent ref saw phantom fouls and other apparitions. The man was so out of touch he doubled Bangor’s amount of disciplinary points for no discernable reason.
The other unceasing irritation were the Aber under 3s as their songbook was almost exclusively Bangor-based. “We all hate Bangor”- “Stand-up if you hate Bangor” – “Fat Les, Bangor’s number 9”. The worst song was, “In your Bangor slums” as from a sociologically perspective it’s incorrect. All of this crap was led by an obese teenager wearing a green and white Santa hat. He should really have been at home cyber-bullying.
The tension became worse in the second half of the second half. Aber attacked and Bangor misfired, miskicked, mistimed and missed, missed, missed. Ideas became entangled in my mind. Our run was ending, XXX XXX XXXXXX were catching us up, our lead was crumbling, our confidence has been ruined, it was all starting to go wrong.
It was very disconcerting. We were all right this morning, it was all my fault again, I’d brought this misfortune upon everybody else. But then through it all, the hope was still there………..
…..THIS corner would be the one…….
…..THIS free kick would be the one…….
…..THIS corner WOULD definitely be it!…….
The ball sailed over the goal, and then swiftly dropped like our hearts.
the Aber Under 3s sang, the Blue Army intellectuals wore the expressions of losing politicians on General Election night, it was horrible. Then the ball was somehow in the box again……
Reedy was on to it……..
He turned and shot……. t
The ball was in!!!
The next thing I knew I was spinning around the stand with Les and Pruney. When gravity caught up with us I was left with muddy footprints all over my hat. Bangor City are simply phenomenal, when all hope is gone they come back.
Just after the goal the pressure was back on, Aber still attacked but Peter Hoy Football genius was resolution personified, what skill!! What Poise!!! Our third goal was the last kick of the game and was another orgy of hugging. The under 3s were strangely subdued, all they could do was glower. Snoody was similarly crestfallen. Football is so cruel, good and bad at the same time.
Whilst we soothed parched throats with cold beverages in the clubhouse the obese teen leader muttered “Get a Job” as if he were a Tory little shit. At the same time as he uttered his bon mots John Hartson appeared on television wearing a Bangor City woolly hat. Big John is a Bangor fan! Hats speak louder than little shits.
Airbus UK Broughton 1 Bangor City 1
Welsh Premier League
As they say all good thing come to an end but “they” are usually big mouths with too much to say for themselves. It was inevitable that the winning run would come to an end. The end was a whimper.
The Airfield was under maximum security after last year’s intervention by Chester’s finest intellectuals; Fences showed the way in and we were confined to one and a half sides of the ground.
After ten minutes the moody Chester firm turned up with prominent labels and sullen expressions. They were escorted from one corner of the ground to the other, then escorted back, then they were gone. You’d imagine that some kind of co-ordination would have taken place earlier, using the internet and mobiles, just like proper casuals do. “We’re going to meet at the crossroads by 6:30. Don’t want no-one giving toes as it’s liable to go off big time. And don’t forget Stanley you muppets!” They went to the trouble of turning up with nicely polished trainers in order to walk 50 yards twice. Hey diddly dee it’s the life of a top boy in a infamous firm for me. Glamour, glamour, glamour!!!!
The game was frustrating as Bangor were oddly disjointed. Mind you there were an awful lot of miskicks on Saturday so we may have been carrying on from then. Bangor tried to score, and even threatened to score, but didn’t. Nice moves were attempted but the last pass was usually wayward. The crosses were just too long or too short and the shooting, when it did happen, was weak or wide. Although we did hit the bar just before half time. The most annoying bit was that Reedy was just off the pace. He was a slide away from scoring but he didn’t bother sliding. Airbus seemed crap yet worrying.
The ref often confounded, some tackles were considered fouls yet almost identical ones weren’t. All of the officials failed to see that the goalkeeper had handled the ball outside the box after about ten minutes as well.
The second half was worse. At least in the first half we felt Bangor were going somewhere close to victory, in the second we couldn’t get going at all. To make it all worse Airbus scored early in the second half thanks to a few mistakes, we wondered if the reserve goalkeeper was at fault. The scorer was Moran the secret milkshake drinker.
Bangor tried to get going after the goal but there was no spark or oomph. Runs and passes were unconnected and the stout defence of Airbus became a smothering blanket. Airbus also employed the sophisticated tactics of harrying Bangor into losing posession and then launching a long pass in the general direction of their attackers. Although for some reason they didn’t do this as much as they should have which allowed Bangor to continue hoping. Unfortunately Bangor’s pressing wasn’t undertaken with precision or the usual carefree skill.
The Airbus defence stood resolute but their keeper suddenly developed an aversion to gravity, was it a quickly developed inner-ear infection? In fact nearly all of Airbus players were at the time-wasting; not retreating at free kicks, developing mysterious back complaints, suddenly developing sprains etc, etc. Breaking the rhythm of the match certainly didn’t help Bangor’s already disjointed play. Airbus’s number 7 won the title “Twat of the match” with a brilliant combination of diving, exaggeration and moaning at the ref when his efforts were seen as transparent.
During this season the blue army may have felt that many moments were the end of the winning run. At the Airfield we had the genuine article, the run was ending, In the 87th minute, Peter Hoy Football Genius had the ball at his feet, now was the time for heroes……….
……………..The ball curled out for a throw, all we could do was laugh.
Deep into injury time Bangor were still trying to exert some pressure. Yet another moment of glory arrived! We hit the bar but the move was not over, Bully connected with the ball and it was in! We celebrated and the timewasting Airbus players prostrated themselves at the feet of the God of football fortune. The acts of the Airbus number 7 could not remain unpunished, karma had spoken,
The blue army left as if we’d seen a win, and in that sense the winning run continued. In the real world the run was over but at least the pressure was off now. We could go to XXX XXX XXXXXX and stick it to them properly! Huzzah!
XXX XXX XXXXXX P Bangor City P
Welsh Premier League
A match should have happened this evening but it didn’t.
All Clubs P All Clubs P
All Places – All Matches postponed, Everywhere………
We didn’t have entire football weekends wiped out by the weather before Good Old Dave and his Etonian Junta took over.
There were only 15 scores from the whole of Britain to update on Final Score. Fortunately this didn’t stop Match of the Day devoting an entire hour to two matches, or the Football League Show generating fifteen fun-filled minutes of brouhaha about a referee’s daring decision to play a match in an actual live snow shower.