Dartford 4 Boston United 2

Dartford. Away. Not a bad product of the FA Trophy ball bag. The chance to get re-acquainted with an old foe currently flying high in the southern dandy version of our league, a new stadium to visit and an opportunity to go somewhere lower on the map than Corby. I jumped at the chance. 

The journey to the fringes of Kent was relatively painless, despite the mandatory closure of the one Underground line you actually need for engineering works or spring cleaning or something. Still, good to add the Tube to the rich and varied list of transportation used to follow United across the country - might be waiting some time for ferry and plane to that European away, however. 

One disappointment was inadvertently getting the train ahead of Pilgrims shipmates Pickwell, Young, Lawson Sr and Johnson the Mackem, who cheekily nipped to Borough Market near London Bridge station and scored complimentary sausage rolls from the Boston Sausage stall by prior arrangement. While they gorged on processed meat and crisp pastry, I was having my ears assaulted by whiney Lahndoner teenagers on the final leg of the journey.  

If the eco-warriors from Greenpeace did football stadiums, they’d probably look like Princes Park - an aesthetically pleasing mix of timber and steel, with solar panels powering the plasma screens in the clubhouse and, i’m told, grass on the roof for reasons to which I’ve not yet been enlightened. Personally, I thought it looked like one of those Transport Interchanges you get in the North, albeit with more comfortable seats. And a big bar with ESPN.

Dartford have an excellent chance of promotion to the Conference this season and had been performing well in their timber fortress, attracting crowds of 1,300 or more on a regular basis. For United, there were many billing this game (a game that took place, remember, in the second week of January) as make-or-break for the season. With us languishing in mid-table and having collected just two points from nine to date this calendar year, they thought there was a strong case to be made that defeat here would mean, essentially, the end of the world. 

I didn’t share the negativity. I’m wasn’t deluded enough to think we’ll reach Wembley but I’m sick and tired of those endlessly slagging off the players and the management. For the record, my mind hasn’t changed despite the 4-2 defeat. If you expect continuous success season after season, you’re either Manchester United or incredibly foolish. 

There were genuine reasons to be cheerful in the re-capture of everyone’s favourite ‘Football Fwiend’ Spencer Weir-Daley whose thumb’s up every time we sung his name was heart-warming on a bitterly cold January afternoon. 

There were perhaps 200 United fans in the crowd of 1,166 and we sang relentlessly through an even first-half. There was some vocal backing from the home support at the opposite end but we simply couldn’t hear it above our tongue-in-cheek renditions of: “We’re not going down, we’re not going up/We’re Boston United and we don’t give a f**k...”

We didn’t make the best of starts. The scoreboard read just four minutes when tubby frontman Jacob Erskine back-flicked the opening goal for the Conference South hosts after Lee Canoville was skinned by Danny Harris. 

But United gradually gained a foothold and a good, end-to-end cup tie unfolded. When Ian Ross swung a corner in just in front of us, Tom Ward leapt to send the ball goalwards, only to see his certain goal poached by Weir-Daley from two yards. We went ballistic, sprinting down the terrace to salute the returning hero and cranking the volume up another notch. Our best spell of the game followed and we were carrying the greater threat leading in to half-time, but sadly couldn’t capitalise. 

The second half was much livelier. Firstly, Dartford’s support moved round to our end, creating a superb sing-off at opposite ends of the terrace but, in contrast to the vocal battle, they took control on the pitch with two quick-fire goals to kill off the contest. 

Lee Noble’s cross located Erskine, who had the presence of mind to prod the ball almost in slow motion past Paul Bastock and into the bottom corner. Then, Noble made it 3-1 after some more lackadaisical defending and that was it. 

The away fans evoked the spirit of so many defeats of the past and continued singing and bouncing, though the appearance of a dozen Danny Dyer wannabes next to our support might have made some a little reluctant to join in. I assumed they had nothing to do with Dartford, something confirmed nicely when one of the thugs had to ask the steward how to get out of the stand. Someone should have pointed out Millwall against Birmingham was down the road. 

Hope flickered briefly when Leon Constantine bravely headed in a second following a great Ward cross, but extinguished when Erskine completed his hat-trick in stoppage time from close range. Alas, further progress in the Trophy wasn’t to be but all those present will vouch for an improved, dogged display which bodes well for the long trawl of league fixtures ahead, and good value for money from the long trip to the south. 

Next Match: Finally, my first visit to Elland Road as Leeds take on Ipswich Town.    

     

Harrogate Railway Athletic 2 Salford City 0

It may have been FA Cup third round weekend - commonly held as one of the most magical in the football year - but none of the ties round my way inspired the imagination. So, a quick scan of the football fixtures not provided by Budweiser took me up to Harrogate Railway, a team who made waves in the competition a few years ago, but seem to have fallen upon hard times lately. 

My time up in Yorkshire is slipping away a little too quickly for my liking, and the beautiful 40-minute train ride up through leafy north Leeds, Horsforth and onwards to Harrogate confirmed the stunning country panoramas I’ll be missing in the city. I’m sure the view from Crimple Viaduct is best admired not through the filthy window of a Northern Rail carriage though. 

Harrogate’s ground is called Station View and, while technically it doesn’t have views of Starbeck station (only the long-abandoned LNER depot that gave birth to the club back in the thirties), it did make it a quick walk to and fro. 

It wasn’t so long ago that the ground hosted the television cameras of Sky and the BBC at the culmination of two swashbuckling FA Cup runs, but there was little evidence of those past glories on this bitterly cold January afternoon. In 2002, Railway battled through to the second round of the competition - at that time, the lowest ranked side to have got that far - and gave Bristol City a real scare, before succumbing 3-1. In the distant, dusty vestiges of my memory, I remember watching that game on Sky and that it had a ridiculously early kick-off time, like 11.30am or something. 

And in December 2007, in a match screened live by the Beeb, they put the wind up Mansfield Town in a 3-2 defeat with two Danny Davidson (no, not that one) strikes, having beaten cross-town neighbours Harrogate Town en route. 

It may have been an FA Cup weekend, but Railway’s interest had long since expired - whacked 8-0 by Bradford Park Avenue back in September - and attentions were firmly on the league, where they were anxiously looking over their shoulder in 19th place after winning just once in ten. Visitors Salford were faring slightly better in Evo-Stik Division One North, sitting ninth after getting their act together in the last two months.

A combination of the vicious weather - which did create some spectacular, fast-moving skies - and Town being at home to Histon two miles away meant the crowd was only in double figures - bolstered to 78 by me and about a dozen travelling fans with a large, colourful flag. 

Unfortunately, the ground looked a little unloved - in one corner, the gales had taken out a couple of fence panels, behind one end was an ugly construction site and one side was a collection of grim portakabins for the press, club officials and snack bar. The pitch, which was consistent with Town’s ground in that it sloped from one side to another, was in a dreadful state. 

But the handsome stand I sat in behind one of the goals looked smart and offered ample protection from the whistling wind, the programme was a lovingly-produced, full-colour publication and everyone I encountered through the afternoon was friendly and took the effort to say ‘Hello.‘ 

With my eyes welling up through the bitterness of the wind, it almost, with a bit of imagination, looked like Portugal playing against Holland. In-form Salford, in tangerine, started well and made full use of the slope to flash two inviting balls across the face of goal from their right flank in the opening ten minutes, both of which should have been converted.

They would live to regret the misses. Railway, in red and green, played agricultural football to suit the playing surface. One of their many long balls won a corner and, with a little assistance from the elements, Ben Parkes’s delivery deceived the Salford goalkeeper Rigby, who saw the ball sail hopelessly over his head for 1-0. 

The odd moment aside, Railway controlled the rest of the game and just needed that ‘killer’ second goal to wrap things up. Shooting towards my end, we saw them create plenty of openings in the second half. Just after the hour mark, Dan Thirkell spied the dart of Luke Durham from deep and, undeterred by the advancing Rigby, he kept his composure to lob him for 2-0. 

James Ogoo did strike the post for Salford but their excellent run of form had firmly hit the buffers by this point and, but for the keeper, Railway captain Liam Gray could easily have added to the scoreline late on. I was very glad to have brought Railway some good fortune and, after a very enjoyable trip, I hope it continues.

Next Match: An eagerly-awaited trip to Conference South Dartford with BUFC for the FA Trophy second round tie on Saturday   

        

Eastwood Town 2 Boston United 2

And so we entered another year following Boston United with a New Year’s Day jaunt to Eastwood Town. It hadn’t taken much persuasion to steer well clear of the bright lights of Leeds to ring in 2012 and, with a clear head and dignity intact, I stepped on the chugger for the straightforward journey to Langley Mill. 

Alighting in the Nottinghamshire town, I was relieved to find the weather dry as I strode out on the two-mile walk to Coronation Park. I imagine the conversation would go something like this:

Shergold: It’s most kind of you to keep things nice and dry as I’ve got this quite long walk to do. 

God: That’s alright, Adam. As a Boston United fan, I feel you’ve suffered enough.

[200 yards later, it has got quite a bit wetter]

Shergold: You f**king b**tard, I’m absolutely drenched. I’m wearing a wool coat and smart, but inappropriate, footwear, which is now caked in mud because Nottinghamshire County Council seem to have forsaken this stretch of pavement. I don’t have a hat, or gloves. Or an umbrella. I’m going to smell like a shaggy wet dog when I get there and I’ll have to dry this coat out for the next two weeks. And it’s nice of you to wait until I’m 200 yards down the road before popping the clouds, so it’s too late to get a bus or taxi. 

God: Sucker. Happy New Year.

Looking and smelling like a shaggy dog, I arrived at the ground, which had been the scene of a very entertaining 2-2 draw on my sole previous visit about this time last year. Mikel Suarez had equalised in the last minute and sparked wild celebrations, during which I was leaning over the barrier clutching Lee Canoville’s shirt. Despite being 90% water, I did chuckle when seeing the child’s playground behind the away end - the one that appeared when our fans knocked through the back of the stand last time. 

In teeming rain, and on a pitch deteriorating to the point that it would soon need ploughing, Boston started atrociously. The official match report described it as: ‘United were caught out in the right back position and after Paul Bastock had kept out an initial drive from Christie, Green sailed an effort beyond the Boston keeper via a large deflection off the unfortunate Tom Ward.’

I’ll translate. Jordan Fairclough, losing all perception of time and space at right-back, failed to notice that Christie had glided past him and had sufficient space to meet an otherwise innocuous ball across goal. After Bastock redeemed him, the ball fell to Green, who smacked an effort towards goal which hit Ward’s arse and wrong-footed the keeper, who was not one bit responsible for the shambles in front of him. The 300-strong travelling support, who easily made up half the crowd if not more, were hit by a strong sense of deja-vu in light of Boxing Day and the goal sapped their enthusiasm more than any amount of rain ever could. 

Thankfully, there was little cause for alarm. United tore down the other end and, after captain Kevin ‘Keef’ Austin’s enormous shorts were muddied by Christie’s foul, Ian Ross swept home a delicious 25-yard free kick before racing down to perform the timeless Klinsmann dive in front of us. 

The warm feeling generated by such a bizarrely brilliant celebration lasted all of five minutes. Again, I’ll allow the official website to describe what happened: ‘Jordan Fairclough was caught napping and steered an attempted back-header beyond Bastock and Christie was left with a simple tap-in.’

Basically, a barely-threatening punt up field turned dangerous when Fairclough, still with no perception of space or time, confused Bazza with the Jolly Green Giant and headed the ball about five foot over his head, allowing Christie, who had been loitering in the unlikely event that Fairclough ate lots of sweetcorn before shooting practice in training and always studied the tin, would do exactly that. 

Our fitness coach-cum-manager pulled a masterstroke by introducing Ryan Semple at half-time and our favourite wife shagger ran his marker ragged for the entire half, as United pressured like a screw being turned into some IKEA flat-pack furniture (local reference to Eastwood there, you probably missed it).

Inevitably Semple’s class told as his centre was netted by fox-in-the-box Marc Newsham for 2-2. Once the initial delirium had subsided, the sense of relief, as it had been a week earlier, was palpable. The winner must surely come? it didn’t on this occasion - even Gaffer Lee’s late header soared over the bar when he seemed destined to score. Two points dropped unfortunately. 

Next Match: United host Blyth Spartans this weekend, so I will seek entertainment up in the North. And it’s FA Cup third round weekend, so I shouldn’t have to look too far.  

Huddersfield Town 1 Carlisle United 1

My 61st and final football match of 2011 came at the Galpharm Stadium, where after an opportunistic heist which involved asking nicely, I’d scored a couple of free tickets to Huddersfield’s Friday Night Live with Carlisle. 

The generous donor was my colleague Andrew Robinson, who had been sent the tickets by Terriers chairman Dean Hoyle for bothering to turn up week-in week-out this year. Since he seemed enthused by the prospect of getting a mention in this blog post, the tickets were donated by ANDREW ROBINSON.

Excitingly, the tickets were golden, making them a Golden Ticket. And during 2011, the Galpharm has been largely a world of pure imagination in the Willy Wonka chocolate factory style, as Huddersfield remained unbeaten in league games until the end of November. The faithful have gorged like Augustus Gloop on the goals of Jordan Rhodes of late and the prospect of seeing the young Scot in action excited my mate and Press Association Sport wire jockey Liam.

A late finish at work unfortunately meant no time for the legendary Huddersfield welcome and by the time we’d found a parking space up the hill from the ground and far away there was nothing left to do but take up our seats. There wasn’t even time for another taste of the Galpharm’s ‘unique‘ cuisine, for which my digestive tract thanked me. 

The regulars in our section were bemused and irritated at all the Golden Ticket part-timers - one loudly exclaimed that he would complain to the club that his ticket for this game wasn’t free. I don’t think his model of running a football club had been given a great deal of thought to be honest. His mate flipped when the kiosk sold out of pies - all the phony fans had scoffed them. 

Personally, I thought Hoyle’s gesture was an exceedingly generous one and the stringers and their friends (or 90-year-old mothers in the case of the people sat next to me) swelled the attendance far beyond that expected on a wet Friday night two days before the New Year. If only a few of those come back on a regular basis, the promotion has been worth his while. 

I’d neglected to mention this to Andrew, but I’m a bit of a jinx on Huddersfield. At the Leyton Orient game, they’d tossed away a two-goal lead and at the Bradford match, they’d lost on penalties. And the Shergold curse was much in evidence early on, as Carlisle took the lead. Francois Zoko waltzed past Anthony Kay and cut back for Liam Noble to apply a straightforward finish, to the delight of the impressive following of 634 from Cumbria. 

Town responded brightly and, from our position, we had an excellent view of Danny Cadamarteri who, despite being played out of his natural position on the right wing, made full use of his experience to hold the ball up well. Cadamarteri aside, Huddersfield looked a little lazy and rusty in their passing, as though the exhausting festive schedule had already got to them. 

Golden Ticket to a world of pure imagination..

Kay saw an effort hacked off the line by James Berrett, before Cadamarteri raced in to fire the rebound wide, but the truth was that Carlisle looked the more likely to score and when they drove forward in the lashing rain, the home defence always seemed to back off. The former Leeds man mountain Lubo Michalik and Noble went close and the locals, already all-too-distressed about the pie situation, grew more and more fractious.

But, seven minutes before half-time, they equalised. Rhodes - who else? - found a yard of room in a claustrophobic penalty area and finished Tommy Miller’s centre. It was his 21st goal of the season already and doubtless made Lee Clark’s half-time chat a good deal more bearable. 

Town were rejuvenated in the second half and poured forward in search of the winning goal that would keep the pressure on the two Sheffield clubs ahead of them in the table. Adam Collin saved brilliantly from Lee Novak at point blank range and Peter Clarke shortly afterwards, as the crowd came to life and forlorn shouts of ‘Uddersfield became actual songs. 

The last ten minutes were spent bopping from seat to expectant standing as Town laid siege. It culminated when sub Scott Arfield fed Rhodes, who loomed down on goal. The entire ground to a man, woman, child, pensioner and Golden Ticket part-timer peered on expectantly, only for Rhodes to miss. Yes, he missed. He’s only human after all, and that crushing realisation had hands glued to heads in disbelief and hundreds heading for the exits. This was not a Roald Dahl script - there was no happy ending. 

Next Match: United back in action at Eastwood Town on New Year’s Day. 

  

       

Boston United 4 Eastwood Town 2

Those in charge of the diary at the Yorkshire Post had entered fully into the Christmas spirit and handed me a few days off, allowing a first visit to York Street - or Mecca as it is sometimes known - since the goalless draw with FC Halifax on August Bank Holiday. 

Desperate to get out of the house and avoid the ominous Tupperware containers of leftover turkey and ham, not to mention the disgustingly repetitive television, Andy, Greg and I toddled off to the Astroturf for a kick-around beforehand. Just for old times’ sake. It’s a shame EA Sports weren’t present with their cameras, because some of the moves and trickery we were producing was worthy of the new FIFA Street game and I’m sure we could have negotiated a fee for the adverts a little under that charged by Rooney and Wilshere.

The Pilgrim Lounge was reassuringly packed and I was optimistic of that famous Boxing Day bumper crowd and atmosphere, despite Eastwood’s lowly league position. The crowd was 1,247 which was, I’m told, about 500 more than the last home game - where everything murmured and muttered by the hardy souls present genuinely echoed around the empty stands.

This match with Eastwood - why it was Eastwood on Boxing Day and not Gainsborough, I really don’t know - represented the start of a four-game run for United from which anything less than 12 points would be a disappointment. We have another date with Eastwood on New Year’s Day, then back-to-back home matches with Blyth Spartans and Bishop’s Stortford that really should be bankers. 12 points would put us firmly back in play-off contention and hopefully a few of the doubting fans will return. 

As though in sudden horrific realisation that ex-Pilgrim Francis Green had been left off the Christmas card list, United’s defence decided to let him score twice for Eastwood in the opening 12 minutes. Green joined the long list of former Boston players who, despite being sub-standard for the majority of their time with us, suddenly becomes world-class when playing against us. He muscled Lee Canoville off the ball and beat Paul Bastock with a low angled drive on two minutes and then flashed in a superb volley for the second ten minutes later. 

This was ridiculous against the bottom-placed team and the Town End was mutinous, which is never pretty. From this point for the rest of the game, United laid siege to the visitors’ goal. Several chances went begging as United strolled through a very porous defence, before Danny Sleath pulled one back on 19 minutes with a well-placed low shot. You really couldn’t fault the entertainment. 

Tom Ward equalised with a header from a Ben Milnes cross shortly before half-time and, locked at 2-2, the game sort of re-set itself. The second half was one-way traffic and two further strikes in two minutes sealed the points. Marc Newsham raced on to Jason Lee’s flick and drilled the ball under goalkeeper James Severn, and then the Gaffer, who mysteriously decided to play himself instead of new signing Leon Constantine, justified his start by scoring the fourth. 

Constantine, who has literally had more clubs than I’ve had Christmas dinners, came on for the last few minutes but didn’t really do much and the spectacle sort of fizzled out, leaving us chatting away and catching up on each other’s news without paying much attention to the action. 

It was alright on the night, as they say. 

Next Match: The New Year period should allow at least two matches, starting with Huddersfield Town against Carlisle United on Friday night. 

   

Guiseley AFC 2 Boston United 1

This has to be the most straightforward away fixture I’ve ever been to, or am ever likely to go to. In a productive morning, I was able to get a haircut, complete all my Christmas shopping, cook some lunch, clean my flat, watch the entirety of Football Focus and only then think about going to the football. 

I stepped on to a train in Leeds at 2.02pm, stepped off the train in Guiseley at 2.14pm and arrived at the ground at 2.19pm. You simply don’t get easier than that. On the return journey, I was back in time for 606. Not that I can stand the morons who call in but the point is that I could have listened to it if I’d wanted. 

Unfortunately, this didn’t detract from the fact that the destination was, once again, Guiseley. Saturday was my fifth visit to Nethermoor in four years - the fortunes of our two clubs seem to have been inextricably linked in the recent past and I’ve now seen Boston play them on more occasions home and away than any other team. 

The match, my last away trip of 2011, was destined to be better than our visit in the regular season just over a year ago - when I stood in biblical rain watching an abysmal 0-0 draw - but nowhere near as fun as our visit in the play-off semi-final when, despite ultimately losing 1-0, 500 travelling Boston fans created a din audible over the Pennines in Burnley. 

The first point to make is that it was cheek-numbingly cold - layers are fine as protection from the scything Yorkshire wind, but useless if you’re going to lose heat through your head by not wearing a hat and feet by wearing smart, but inappropriate footwear. I didn’t have a hat and was wearing smart, inappropriate footwear - I’ve never learnt this in all my years of watching football and resorted to hopping about from one foot to the other in the second half so my brain could maintain communication with the lower half of my body. 

Our support was perhaps a tenth of that memorable night here in May and we couldn’t really be bothered to make any noise. At one point, Lawson Jr put his drum on the floor, that’s how under-used it was. He did though give it a few hefty thwacks during half-time to disrupt an on-pitch medley of Christmas songs by the local brass band, drawing dirty looks from the natives. But then he does have quite a record of pissing off the people of Guiseley. 

The 508 gathered - including three dogs of classic non-league cliche: a lively Border Collie who chased the ball through the game, a brown labrador and Digby, the biggest dog in Yorkshire, who ended up in the middle of the fighting after the game in April - saw Boston take an early lead. 

Right in from of our position, a shoddy backpass was seized upon by the alert Marc Newsham and he slotted the ball in from a tight angle to give us an unexpected lead against the high-flying Yorkshiremen. The players celebrated in the corner and having run down from the terrace to warm my already freezing feet, I thrust my hand out to try and get a high-five. Danny Sleath obliged, but we both mistimed the slap and swiped at thin air. We both looked away, embarrassed.

Conforming to local stereotype, the home fans ended every shout with the word LAD. So it was “Go wan, Danny LAD”, “Knock it through Simon LAD”, “Gerra foot in Kev LAD.” This caused us great amusement and for the rest of the afternoon, everything said ended with LAD. I think you had to be there really. 

Our mischievous joy was short-lived. Guiseley won a free-kick on the edge of the box and as Andy Holdsworth lined it up, I got that instinctive sinking feeling. Of course, it deflected through the wall and flashed past Paul Bastock. The home fans celebrated, well, like there was no one there. 

The hosts dominated the rest of the half but Boston restricted them to long-range efforts, which soared reliably towards the Leeds-Ilkley railway line. United were improved in the second-half and, to their credit, persisted with their neat passing approach in the absence of target man Jason Lee. Ian Ross tried an audacious shot from the half-way line which had the home keeper scrambling as it dipped inches over the bar. 

But Guiseley are notoriously hard to beat and, in keeping with their third position in the table, kept plugging away. Their reward came on 77 minutes, as Holdsworth’s well-taken strike claimed the points, and you couldn’t really argue. In that spirit, I punched the back of the stand, which obviously smarted a great deal in this lovely cold weather. At least it didn’t take long to get home and thaw out. 

Next Match: A few days at home over Christmas will allow me to take in Boston United v Eastwood Town on Boxing Day.       

  

   

Stalybridge Celtic 3 Boston United 0

Sometimes form and history are so stacked against you on an away trip, it’s wise to find alternative entertainment. In the club’s entire history, we have never got the better of Stalybridge Celtic at Bower Fold - four matches, four defeats - and with the Cheshire club riding high in the Conference North, the odds were mounting. 

Thankfully, the town has an irresistible attraction in the station Buffet Bar, a proper old-fashioned pub in which every inch of wall space is covered with railway ephemera and usually has at least eight or nine good ales on tap. It’s been a popular pitstop for Pilgrims fans on previous visits to Stalybridge, or nearby Ashton United and Curzon Ashton during the Unibond days. 

So this away tale is told by the beers enjoyed by myself and messrs Young and Pickwell both in the Buffet Bar and various other watering holes visited during the day (including two rammed with scary Leeds United fans psyched for their match with Millwall...)     

- Thwaites Smooth - Amber in colour, served slightly chilled and with its distinctive smooth, refreshing taste, Thwaites Smooth is the ideal session beer and an iconic brand on bars throughout the North with its strap-line - The Northern Smoothie. 3.4%

Obviously we were Amber in colour and we were ever-so-slightly chilled by the bitter northerly winds sweeping off the hilltops. This was the first match of winter and the rain drove down for long parts of the game, making any kind of decent football incredibly difficult. But despite this impediment, United were refreshingly smooth in their passing in the opening part of the game. Home stopper Jan Budtz was called into early action when clawing away a Marc Newsham curler and Ryan Semple was tearing down the right flank on a regular basis, causing difficulties for the full-time opponents.

- Abbot Ale - This irresistible ale has masses of fruit characters, a malty richness and superb hop balance. It is brewed longer to a unique recipe. 5% ABV 

Bolstered by the recent 3-1 win at Gainsborough Trinity and progress in the FA Trophy last weekend against Workington, United had a good balance about them, with steel in central midfield and invention down both wings. There’s plenty of characters who could score, but their irresistible forward play continued to go unrewarded. Gaffer Lee was winning all his aerial challenges as usual but barely troubled Budtz with a nod downwards from Semple’s cross.

- Lemon Blossom - A delicious light ale with an aroma of crisp citrus lemon. Perfectly balanced sweetness with delicate bitterness to finish. An exceptional pale ale that leaves you wanting another. 3.7% ABV

But for all this encouragement, there was a bitterness to end the half. Phil Marsh advanced down the left for Stalybridge and picked out young prospect Arthur Gnahoua to find the bottom corner. The goal came 11 minutes before half-time and very much against the grain of the game.  

- Millstone True Grit - A very pale and hoppy strong ale. Well hopped using only Chinnook hop; the mellow bitters make way for a distinctive citrus/grapefruit aroma. 5% ABV

United battled strongly after the break but looked paler in the attacking third. Far too often, a ball over the top would just be a little overhit and skid away into touch. Huddled behind the goal the few of us who had made the trip tried - and failed - to get any kind of noise or encouragement going. There was an injection of citrus when Tony Edwards, promoted from the reserves after a blistering start to the season in the Lincolnshire League, came on and flashed a low cross across the goalmouth, with Hall just inches away from scoring.

- Rossendale Brewery Pennine Halo Pale - A citrusy, pale ale brewed with Cascade aroma hops, finishing with a slightly bitter aftertaste. 4.5%

But there was a sightly bitter aftertaste - Stalybridge added two late goals, as United’s defence conked out and left massive gaps, to give the scoreline a very flattering look. Craig Hobson deflected the ball in for 2-0 after a goalmouth scramble and then added a third following a five-against-one break. Game set and match. The only thing for it, after a sodden traipse back to the station, was another couple of beers...

Next Match: United are at home to Hyde in the Trophy next Saturday, so a match in Yorkshire I would imagine