Sunday 31 October 2010

Bradford City - Oxford 30 October 2010

Well another joyful trip up North. This time on the bargain East Coast line from King's Cross via Leeds. £10.50 travelcard to London, £20 for singles to Leeds and back, and £3.60 return to Bradford, although I later found I could have added Bradford onto the East Coast tickets for an extra £1.

Another train, another bizarre set of instructions to operate the lock in the loos. <Press close, wait for the lock button to flash for three seconds, press lock> As I was waiting in the queue, cue the door opening unexpectedly to one occupant, and on my visit, trying to lock the door resulting in it opening again as I pressed the lock/unlock button too early, before finally sussing it out.

I'd always thought of Leeds and Bradford as one big conurbation, but the short journey showed a green and pleasant land, with green fields, streams and stone walls. The nearer we got to Bradford, I was reminded of Gravesend and Northfleet, with housing estates built on the top of hills. As we approached Bradford itself were views of grassed over ex-pit workings on the hills, but nearer the city was the depressing identikit out-of-town warehouse shopping centre of Halfords, JJBs, Comet and Tescos.
crooked steps
We arrived at Bradford Forster Square and weren't sure where to go for pre-match refreshments. Tried walking towards the ground, found a pub but it was generic lager and John Smiths and Yeovil. Remembering the advice to try the Corn Dolly, we asked a few locals who pointed us in the wrong direction, but amazingly I found the Maps app on the i-phone does actually work and not only did it find the pub, but was able to show us the walking route and time of 12 minutes for 1/2 a mile. We got to the Corn Dolly up some very croooked steps to avoid a hairpin road route, and was pleasantly surprised to find several friendly faces in there already who had caught the earlier train, and predictably it was only a short walk from the station too. 

Corn Dolly

They had a decent range of real ales, although London Pride and Black Sheep are already familiar so gave them a miss. Also they sold the City Gent fanzine, which is nice to see that paper fanzines are still around. The landlord was most apologetic about my 30 second wait to get served, blaming a bar-man who had called in sick.

Valley Parade was an odd view approaching from the station. It seems to be hanging off the side of the hill like the villains lair from a James Bond film, with 2 huge stands sweeping in a boxed in curve round the side of the pitch and behind one goal.
Valley Parade


Once navigated through the maze of stairways and entrances to the stadium, we were in half of a relatively small stand (although it is probably as big as our North Stand). It was a decent seated view too.

The home support was spread across their 3 1/2 stands, with a mix of their singing fans behind both goals, but the liveliest seemed to be in the top tier of the smallest stand to our left.

A number of big flags were displayed in areas of empty seating to remember the victims of 1985. It was very strange imagining the wooden stand in what is now a big capacity all-seater ground and took me back to watching the tragedy unfold live on was it World of Sport on that Saturday afternoon, initial reports coming in of a small fire amongst half-time match-day reports from around the country, followed by the horrific scenes broadcast.

As for the game, the first half was about even I thought. "Sacked in the morning", we sang to Peter Taylor, and I'm not sure the Bradford fans didn't join in too. Taylor jovially waved back at us - presumably using this as his inspiration for the half-time team talk.

Wilder seemed to have used the bromine soaked tea-bags for halftime, as yet again we capitulated. Two nil down and we had a chance, but the retaken Penalty, followed by the sendings off finished the game as a contest.
A few idiots apparently tried to cross the netting, which always seems a waste of time as they never reach the opposition, yet can afterwards claim to have had a go.

Sunday 17 October 2010

Macclesfield - Oxford, 16 October 2010

Another easy day out. After preparing lunch (Ciabatta with coppa, smoked mozarella and cherry tomatoes), I left home at 9 am, arrived at Euston at 10 with an hour to wait so sat outside to eat my food. Strangely there were lots of police and transport police observing protestors with pea-cane flags and hard-hats outside, and eventually I worked out it was an anti-Oil company protest.

The 11 am train raced to Macclesfield, stopping once at Stoke, arriving just before 1pm.

After a stopoff in the Railway View (helpfully signed all the way from the station), I got to the ground about an hour before kick-off. A nice imitation cloisonne badge in the club shop for only £1, but the programme was a bit lightweight for £2.50 compared to ours, but better than many.

I exited back down the stairs to hunt out "Keith's bar", which was hidden behind a metal exit barrier door, and was actually in the same level of the stand as the club shop was which I'd left several minutes and flights of stairs earlier, and would have been just a quick walk past Bobs and co enjoying their meals. A very long wait for a pint of smoothflow Worthingtons was a bit disappointing.

At least it was only £14 to stand on the terrace, and it was a good steep one so no real problems viewing the action. It kept threatening to rain, but never did with any force, and a nice view to the hills beyond.

There was of course the usual wierd steward, this time a Peter Stringfellow look-alike with a long blonde pony tail, but very graying roots was there to entertain us.

As for the game, we could and should have scored 4 by half time. I know that Batt and Creighton and Wright are all out injured, but we should have been able to do better and win the game well.

Unfortunately I'd booked the 7pm train home as I'd never been to Macclesfield before, and didn't want to risk the run for the 6pm. We got to the station at around 5:30, so waited with Holt's in the pub opposite.

The journey back to Surrey was predictably full of Manchester United fans on their way home on the Euston train and then the Guildford train. At least Fergie had thrown away a lead to draw, S***don lost, and even Hereford came back from 3 down to win.