Bingo and Bagpipes

Rotherham vs Blackburn, New York Stadium, Tuesday 30th Sept 2014

After the poor result at Ipswich it was a home game for the Millers against Blackburn Rovers, AKA The Rovers, possibly the lamest nickname in football.      

I had completely cut myself off from all things RUFC since the Saturday debacle, easy to do in the Scottish Highlands, although I did notice that Oscar had left Watford due to ill health. They are already on their third manager of the season with barely two months gone. Also the manager of the team we vanquished on that unforgettable Wembley afternoon, Leyton Orients Russell Slade, had resigned to take over at Cardiff, although the squabbling was still going on between the two clubs. 

Just because I wasn't able to follow the beautiful game didn't mean there wasn't plenty going on. A Shearings holiday is a superb place for people watching, one of my favourite sports. Gary had kept us entertained by humiliating any latecomers to his bus. He is a very punctual man and expects all of us to be too. One poor little old couple arrived at 9.32 for a 9.30 departure. Their excuse that they are on the third floor and the lift is temperamental held no sway with Mein Fuhrer. There was an incident in the poor peoples restaurant with some old ladies sitting on the wrong table for breakfast and getting a stern talking to by the waitress. They haven't made the same mistake since. A highly entertaining evening was had with the singer on the Sun night, not because he was good (he wasn't bad to be fair) but because an old lady slipped over during The Gay Gordon (look it up!) and pulled over her partner, another old lady, right on top of her. It was made even more exciting by the fact they were the only two on the dance floor. Donald rushed over immediately, over the moon that they were unhurt, clasping his accident form tightly in his mitts. 

The day of the big match at the New York Stadium we were doing a bus tour of Wester Ross (not to be confused with Westeross in game of thrones). We had a giant breakfast as usual, before climbing on Gary's bus and waiting for the fun to start. First up Heather, who was only 5 mins early, oh dear! Then the same two old dears as the day before were unfortunate enough to arrive only 3 mins early. He was having none of the lame excuse about lifts and old legs and gave them a good ticking off. They loved it! I have found these more mature types thrive on getting picked on. 

We set off for the Western side of Scotland, much closer to Inverness than I thought, and what followed was a drive through some of the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen. We passed through Docherty pass with views of Loch Maree, then down and around the loch before coming out on the West coast. We followed that around and stopped at a lovely little hotel for soup and sandwiches. 

Then on further round the coast before turning inland and stopping at The Corriessteffan gorge. We trotted down, Ian wanting to show that he was quicker and fitter than the rest of the bus, to stand on the suspension bridge and look down the waterfall. Wonderful!

Then it was back to the hotel for tea, Haggis, before the important part of the day. Sitting in the tartan lounge awaiting the bingo I opened my SkyGo app to watch the rolling results. Tuesday night so no Jeff Stelling of course, just his underling who no one knows the name of. Also it was the champions league so all the studio experts were watching the so called big clubs. I'd just got it started, on silent so as not to disturb the oldies, when we went over to the New York Stadium. 1-0 to Rotherham said the man, 'come on' I yelled, before sheepishly retreating into the corner. I couldn't hear what he was saying but, miracle of miracles, they had footage of the goal. A corner, Pringle causing havoc, ball comes out to Arneson who scuffed his shot, slight deflection into the bottom right hand corner. 5 mins gone. 

The SkyGo kept blurring and sticking due to the poor internet service in the back of beyond, but not before they went over to Hillsborough to show that Weds had scored against Ipswich. Damn. I had just got the service back and clear when Mr Mystery went over to New York again. No sound but 2-0 to the Millers. 'Yes' we all yelled. Luciano Beccio. Heather and I launched into an acapello version of his good song, then they were showing us the footage. Pringle hounding one of the Blackburn players on the edge of the area, forcing him to pass it back to the keeper, keeper trying to clear it downfield when it hits the bum of Luciano, presumably because he couldn't be bothered to pull out, and cannons back into the net. They all count!

After that the App deteriorated into blurring and then not working at all. The bingo and the Scottish dancers came and went with us all trying to find out what was happening. Heather managed to get on The Wall, 80mins gone and still 2-0. A nervous wait before the final score came up 2-0 to the Millers. We all heaved a huge sigh of relief. We really needed that win and now we were up to 17th in the table. A respectable position and one that, I for one, would settle for at the end of the season. 

Men of the match

Ian - Beccio

Jackie - Beccio

Vicly - Beccio

Quote of the day - 'you only get a small plate but at least you can see what you are eating'. Old man to old lady on the stairs.

Funniest moment - The Gay Gordon Incident will take some beating 

From Inverness to Ipswich

Ipswich v Rotherham United, A bus somewhere in Scotland, Saturday Sept 27th 2014

Our day started very early, not because we had to leave early for Ipswich but because we had to leave early for Inverness, almost as far up Scotland as you can get. We were going on a sibling trip to the highlands in order to ride the steam trains with my brother and sister and their spouses. Our taxi arrived at 7.45 to take us to the bus station where a coach took us to the Shearings Interchange in Normanton, passing the Millers fans waiting to board the Ipswich bus on Chantry bridge. 

Sad to say the day was spoiled at a roundabout off the M62 when a single magpie flew right overhead. "Good morning Mr Magpie' I saluted, but would that be enough? The waiting room at the depot was full to bursting with mature people, glancing around I spotted one lady who looked around my age, the rest were much older. 'Passangers for Strathpeffer go to stand N20' came over the tannoy. As we boarded the bus I was glad to see the absense of Zimmer frames, although the driver had to get behind a couple to propel them up the steps. 

Our driver, Gary, introduced himself, then let us know that if we tried to talk while he was talking we would be water boarded, or some similar punishment. Hello Gary! Then we were off on a Marathon ten hour journey through half of England and most of Scotland on a bus full of pensioners with a Bolshie driver. 

We had booked seats very close to the front, Heather and David having paid a bit extra for the first row, just in across from a man who talked the whole way, non stop. I now know all there is about him, his children, all the holidays he has ever been on and his full medical history. We were also in front of a lady who laughed like a lunatic every time Gary made a quip, which was often. No rubber hose for her. We paused at Washington (Tyne and Wear not DC), where we were to pick up more oldies. Unfortunately, much to Gary's disgust, their bus was delayed and we had to wait. Gary was apoplectic when one old guy needed the facilities when they did finally get there and had to hike across the car park to the services. We then paused at Jedburgh in the borders for lunch, 'We can only have half an hour here' groused Gary, 'we are running late now and I want to get past Perth before the Ryder Cup crowd turns out'. Luckily, being at the front we could shoot off the bus first and get a picnic table. Unluckily, the other two couples had forgot their picnics and had to wait for the bus to empty before climbing back on to get them. 

Back on the bus and kick-off was looming. I texted Vicky to ensure she was in place to send me score updates as the Sky Sports App was never going to work in the wilds of the Borders. Luckily my pocket buzzed around 3'o'clock. 'Kick-off' said the natty little app that sends me updates. Who needs Vicky. Almost immediately after my pocket buzzed again. In a flurry of excitement I wrestled my phone back out of my pocket. 'Ipswich1 Rotherham 0, 3mins!!!' screamed the update. Damn, but plenty of time to come back. I returned my phone to my pocket where it immediately buzzed again. 'Ipswich 2 Rotherham 0, 6mins!!!' the update gloated. Back in my pocket and straight back out again for another buzz. This time a text from Vicky telling me we were 2-0 down. Thanks Vicky. This time my pocket didn't buzz again for another half hour, through a barely cracked eyelid I saw that Kari Arneson had been booked. Same thing again a couple of minutes later, this time a booking for Frecklington. Then half time came and still 2-0. No more alerts arrived in the second half until the final score buzzed in that we had lost. Was I glad we were on a bus full of penshioners somewhere near Edinburgh and not in Ipswich. Because of the failure of the Sky Sports App, and indeed and kind of communication this far North, we could not find out any of the other results, so football took a back seat to the scenery, which was wonderful. 

We passed by Perth, no sign of Gary's expected Ryder cup traffic, and pulled into a small car park where Gary explained he now had to take a 45minute break. Ian had taken to trying to beat the large lady across the isle out of his seat and off the bus. She was obviously a seasoned pro and had the armrest down and a meaty leg in the isle well before the bus came to a stop. Should be an interesting competition over the week.  Heather leaped off first and sprinted toward the loo, only to sit down at a picnic table and start tying her lace. Schoolgirl error as all the oldies hobbled past her and into the queue for the three smelly toilets. I decided to play it canny and wait until just before we got back on the bus. The cafe was closed so two bus loads (Gary's mate on the Dornoch bus had arrived) of oldies were wandering aimlessly round and round a toilet block. We decided on a brisk walk through the woods to sweep the cobwebs away, just us and one other youngish old couple. 

Back on the bus for the last leg just in time for Gary to tell us how to work the hotels ancient lift. Heather attempted to get a bottle of coke off the overhead rack and dropped it on the lady behind. Whoops! The sky darkened into night, and finally, at 8 pm, we arrived at the Bay Highland hotel. 

The manager, Donald, clambered on to the bus to tell us the rules and we were in and collecting our keys. 

It had been a long, long, day. At least we had arrived, unlike the poor Millers fans who were no doubt still on their way back. Next up is Blackburn at home on Tuesday. 

Final score, Ipswich 2 Rotherham 0

Addicks in New York

Rotherham v Charlton Athletic, New York Stadium, Sat sept 20th, Att 9620

After the disappointment of the Reebok defeat, the Millers returned home for a game against unbeaten Charlton, nickname The Addicks. A superstition conundrum arose in the morning with a new pair of slippers getting Inadvertantly placed on the table. New shoes on the table is bad luck, but is new slippers? Hopefully not. We had a change of team today with Vicky on holiday in Malta, and my brother Ricky and his wife Janice visiting from Canada and desperate to visit the Millers new home. Because of their visit and my sister Irene's birthday we were having a big family party at our house, so what better time to go out for the afternoon. We left for the walk down Moorgate at around 2pm, leaving the Allums to Hoover, clean, and generally prepare everything. 

Ricky had worked at Guest and Crimes as a young boy before he emigrated so was quite excited by the eyesore in the New Yorks car park. 

He also regaled Janice with tales of his visits to Millmoor in the late sixties, including big crowds and getting squashed against barriers and fences.

Ian met one of his clients in the car park, it turns out he is the client who let us stay at his house in Spain one year, although he has never invited us back. I never liked him! Meanwhile, Ricky was doing what all New York tourists do and taking loads of photos while avoiding getting beat up.

A quick lesson in turnstyle entering, (Make sure you are in front of Ian in the queue) and we were in. The man on the end and the twitchers were all there this week, as was Wooly, although James got a yellow card for missing the match to see Newcastle vs Hull. The guy next to him won't be happy if he finds out. Ian was chatting with him and he was apoplectic that his own mate had missed it just to go on holiday. Real fans don't do that. (Vicky take note)

We settled in and Ricky asked if we would play 'god save the queen'. Apparently all sporting events in Canada are preceded by a heartwarming rendition of 'O Canada'. He was not overly impressed that we play Frank Sinatra instead. The lineups were announced with Evans having recalled Revell. He was also starting with Jordan 'he scores goals' Bowery. Charlton had a few players in their team who seemed familiar so I opened up my ears and waited. 'Who did that Ben Haim used to play for' they detected from behind. 'Bolton, Chelsea, Man City, Sunderland, Portsmouth, West Ham, QPR, and I think Maccabi Tel Aviv.' I do believe the Twitchers also had a guest fan with them as one of them called out 'He's good that Taylor', immediately before 'that Taylor' blasted the ball over the top of the away stand. The Charlton number 10, Moussa, (Southend, Leicester, Coventry) looked very good, especially his diving skills. The referee, Mr Deadman, (no, really!) didn't think so though, and booked him for them. Applause rang around the ground, probably the first time a referree has elicited such a response there. The Millers were on top, so the inevitable happened and Charlton scored. Ironically, it was an Icelandic friend of Kari Arneson that did the damage, a player who we had tried to sign but simply could not afford.  Alex Revell, who had played like a man desperate to regain his place, was challenged in the air, fell from a great height, and had to be replaced by Becchio. 1-0 at the break. 

Evans made a change at the break, bringing on fans favourite Lee Frecklington for Smallwood. We were shooting towards our own fans and from start to finish we battered Charlton with slick passing and wave after wave of attack. The only thing missing was a goal. The fans were right behind them and you could sense it was coming. Evans brought off Taylor for fans favourite and left foot wizard Ben Pringle. This caused Matt Derbyshire to remove his bib, throw it down, and stomp on it in a fit of temper as he realised he was not coming on. Has he booked a one way ticket to Bury with that gesture? We passed and passed, harried and chased. Bowery had the ball in the net but it was rightly ruled out for offside. Then Pringle whipped in a cross and Becchio outmuscled Bowery at the far post and headed home. 

The crowd went wild and a competing chorus of both his songs rang out, but we weren't satisfied with a draw and went all out for the win. Charlton defended stoutly though and finally Mr Deadman blew his whistle. A great comeback but we were a little disappointed only to get a draw.

Man of the match

Ian-Arneson

Jackie-Bowery

Quote of the day

'Joe Scarz could only get better looking if he got injured'-twitcher (he isn't Johnny Depp!)

Ian's award 

Mr Deadmans decision to book Luciano for handball after a blatant push caused him to throw his arms in the air. 

 

War of the Roses

Only three short days after the honourable point at The Goldsands stadium and we were off to the Macron stadium in Bolton. This is another one of those stupid grounds which change their name at the whim of sponsors. It was originally the Reebok stadium, it's first sponsor, when it was built in 1997 replacing the old Burndon park. We have always looked longingly upon it as we pass it. You can see it from the M6 and it looks magnificent so it was one of the first away fixtures we looked for when they came out. Suffice to say it was a Tuesday night. No problem, I had a few hours hols left from work and this was one visit I didn't want to miss. 

The day started badly however, with a single magpie staring in at me as I ate my breakfast. Usually that means a defeat.

Checking the web I noticed that our referree was to be Neil Swarbrick, of Lancashire, not good. A premier league referree, even worse. They always fall for the cheating Prima Donna type player, and never give Alex Revell anything when he gets battered. Oh well.

We left Rotherham in good time, heading over the Woodhead Pass and round the Manchester Ring Road, following Tara past Bolton. Just when I was wondering where we were going we saw it, the magnificent Macron (formerly Reebok) stadium. 

We pulled into the stadium car park aroun 7pm and wound the window down. '£7 please' said a pleasant young Lancastrian Lass. 'How Much?' Said a grumpy old Yorkshire Lad. Still, it was very close to the stadium. 'I need the toilet' said Ian, and off he trotted to the nearby MacDonalds. He returned a few minutes later with three cups of coffee and we settled in to play spot the fans. We were waiting for Wooly and Caroline to arrive. They had been to the lakes for the weekend and were calling on the way back, much to Caroline's delight. Ian had purchased their tickets for them. A text came in from Wooly around 7.15. 'We are in Bolton but can't find the stadium'. Ian replied. 'How can you miss it, you can see it from space!' 'Maybe you can, but you can't see it from Bolton town centre.' By now Vicky and I needed the loo too so we left Ian waiting (having wrestled the tickets off him) and wandered over to the stadium. 

We strolled right around to the away fans entrance, passing Nat Lofthouse on the way.

Went in, went to the toilet, and sauntered to our seats, where Ian, Wooly and Caroline had already arrived. 'Where have you been?' Was the cry.

Our seats were quite low down and right behind the net. The seats were shallowly banked, but there was only a little old man and a little old lady in front. No problem then. 

The teams came out and once again Revell had been dropped for Becchio. The game kicked off and the Bolton fans cast aspertions on the Rotherham fans parentage, at which point the little old man leapt up and, pointing fiercely, began chanting 'who are you' while pointing visciously back at them. He did this at several points during the match, and joined in every song, as did the little old woman. Ian and I were looking into our future, and we liked it. Next to Ian sat a guy who was Ian's kindred spirit, liking all the same players and giving the ref and players the same advice. They got on like a house on fire. The guys behind let us down though. 'Who is the big Bolton centre forward and who did he play for?' Said one. 'Not sure' came the reply. How I longed for the twitchers. 

True to form, the ref didn't have a clue. At one point the ball went out, the linesman looked at the ref, and the ref scratched his head, before going with the majority decision and giving Bolton the throw. Towards the end of the half we got a free kick and scored. We were 1-0 up at the Reebok. Wow. Half time came and Bolton were booed off. We were very happy though. 

The second half was full of flowing football and mistakes. Bolton equalised then took the lead. Lindsey beside me was beside herself with anger and screaming for Steve Evans head, LOM and LOW were very subdued. Then Jordan Bowery was introduced and we were soon back on level terms. Unfortunately Bolton once again took the lead almost straight away. Then, wonder of wonders, we scored again, only for the blind Lino to rule it offside. Then the goalkeeper, Colin, rushed upfield, and scored!! Once again it was disallowed. We went all out but failed to score again, and our first visit to the Reebok ended in defeat. Still, a brave performances, and Steve Evans kept his job despite Lindsey's urging. 

Final score 3-2 to Bolton

Men of the match

Ian-Taylor

Jackie-Wordsworth

Vicky-

Funniest moment

Sids tattoo parlour being the sponsor of one of the Bolton players

Toilet watch

Not so good. The doors didn't shut, there were pools on the floor and no hot water. 4/10

Ian's award

The disallowing of two perfectly good Millers goals. Grrr.

Are we there yet.....

Bournemouth v Rotherham United, Saturday 13th Sept 2014, Goldsands Arena, Attendance 8480

The two weeks leading up to the fixture at Bournemouth had been League footballess due to the international break so we were getting withdrawal symptoms, especially because of what happened with the transfer window. As you know, the window slammed shut at exactly 11pm on Monday 1st July. On transfer deadline day Sky have a dedicated full day of programmes where all the presenters wear yellow and a giant clock ticks down the hours, minutes and seconds until 11pm. On this occasion players were moving here, there and everywhere except for at the New York Stadium. Around 10.30 Vicky told me that Steve was still on the phone, according to Facebook, (How they knew I'm not sure, telephoto lens from Ken Booths scrapyard perhaps) but I decided to go to bed. Nothing to see here. Off I went to work the next day as usual, only to get a text from Vicky at lunchtime. Just on the stroke of eleven, allegedly after a takeaway Pizza, Steve had signed some kid from Oldham and Lucciano Beccio!!! Beccio is an Argentinian striker who scored loads for Leeds before making a big money move to Premiership (then) Norwich. He never really played for them and had decided to come to us even though loads of other clubs were interested. (Again allegedly). How exciting! So the wait to see him play seemed interminable. 

Other things that had happened over the looooooong international break.

-Watford sacked Beppe and appointed Oscar

-The Wolves manager won the manager of the month despite losing to us

-Leeds sacked their manager

-England played in Switzerland in a Euro qualifier and won 2-0

-Carlisle sacked their manager

-Oscar Pistorius got away with murder

-Accrington Stanley sacked their manager

-Vicky got an interview to try out for volunteering at the Rugby Union World Cup

-Colchester sacked their manager

-We went to the Rotherham show to see the giant vegetables

Look at those lovely onions

After what seemed like months the wait was over and Sat Sept 13th dawned. We had never been on such a long awayday before and after consulting google maps (4hrs 24mins with traffic) and the beer bus's departure time (trades club 7.45am) decided on an 8.30 start. We had weighed up the lunch options and decided on the tried and tested munchbox, so I set too preparing that while the other two lazed in bed. A mass panic ensued when I could not find my discreet RUFC T-shirt, and Vicky offered to loan me her, not quite so discreet Revell, 'Ambitious.......but brilliant!' T-shirt. Would this come back to haunt us later? 

The munchbox, the T-shirt, and me.

Only a few minutes late we set off for the long trek to the south coast. Due to some SatNav conspiracy, Tara tried to take us via London. Having been caught out by Pippa the last time we went to Southampton to visit Kathy we were ready for her and took the M69 and M40. As we were making up time all the way we stopped at Warwick services for coffee, and cakes for some. On away trips we like to spot fans of other clubs, as well as fellow Millers, along the way. There was'nt much activity here, just a few Burnley fans on their way to Palace. We got held up by some heavy traffic on the M3, but made it to Southampton with plenty of time left. Only 30mins more said Tara. Plenty of time for a picnic. We stopped at a services for a toilet break. A few years ago we made a stop at Bolton services, and ever since we have believed those to be England's worse. These ones didn't take the crown but they weren't far off. Off we set again, only to run into more traffic. We decided to take a slight detour through the New Forest, where we could picnic in lovely surroundings. Only to run into yet more traffic. The surroundings were lovely, as were the ponies  (from the safety of the car). No time for the picnic though. We couldn't come all this way and miss the start. At last we broke through the trees and into Biurnemouth. Tara took us unerringly to the Stadium and we arrived at the car park around 2.30. Rolling down the window Ian asked the steward how much. £1 came the unexpected reply. £1!!!!! (See pride and prejudice). We parked up in a lovely spot around 2.30. Just time for the munchbox, and the short stroll across the car park to the Goldsands arena, formerly Dean Court. 

We were seated in a part of a stand on the side of the pitch, and the sun was beating down from beginning to end, causing us to have to shield our eyes the whole match. Luckily Ian hadn't brought his hat.  

The team was announced and Becchio was playing, along with Clarke-Harris. Someone was quick off the mark at the club shop.  His dad?

Ian decided that the munch box wasn't quite enough and that he needed pie, which he rated as very good. I must admit that in that heat it didn't smell too appetising. A voiciferius away support welcomed the players to the pitch and the match kicked off. A forgettable first half was saved only by the Millers fans attempt to sing a song for Becchio, veering away from the tried and tested one we all know and love it was a horrible mishmash of sounds. I would prefer to stick to the original. Alas, poor Jonson Clarke-Harris didn't get one, but I live in hope.

Half time and the oppressive heat drove us indoors to the concourse. How we long for the freezing cold days of winter. Of course if we hadn't gone in we would have missed the guy with the Law shirt ( he left us in 2011) and the guy munching on a bag of giant spring onions.

Back out into the sun and the second half kicked off. This half started better, for Bournemouth anyway as they seemed to have wave on wave of attacks, hitting the post, before the inevitable happened and they scored. Now it was going to be difficult as we had only scored two goals in the league, one of those a penalty. But we still have that never say die attitude, and with Alex Revell and Jordan Bowery coming on, for the ineffective ( and not match fit ) Becchio and Clarke-Harris, we started to put pressure on them. Revell almost got to a cross, and in the 93rd minute Bowery rose like a salmon and headed home. 1-1. Cue wild scenes among the away fans. Four more added minutes later (where did they come from) and the referee blew for full time. We had smuggled a point from a game that looked lost. And the sun was still shining.

We left the ground to the sound of the fans singing Jordan Bowerys song. 'He scores goals, he scores goals, Jordan Bowery.' To the tune of give me oil in my lamp keep me burning. A proper song that takes little learning. A great start to a weekend away with Kathy.  Next up, Bolton away. 

Final score 1-1 

Man of the match

Ian - Arneson

Jackie - Arneson

Vicky - Arneson

Quote of the day

Guy behind on the Becchio song. 'That needs work!'

Funniest moment

When do you ever see a man eating a bag of giant spring onions? Only at a rotherham match.

Toilets

8/10 . Pretty good. Clean and loads of hot water. No drips or leaks.

Ian's award

Booked Scarz for his first foul well inside his own half.