Jim Smallman - The Football Neutral: Match Eleven – Notts County vs Wolverhampton Wanderers
How apt that my travels should give me the chance to visit Meadow Lane, just a few days before England play Germany at Wembley to celebrate the 125th anniversary of the Football Association. I’d love to say that it was clever diary work, but that would be a massive fat lie. Notts County are, of course, the oldest football league team in the world (something they like to remind you of in massive writing on one of their stands, and so they should). They are also a team that I should, in theory, dislike because of my club allegiance. But I didn’t before the game, and I certainly didn’t afterwards.
Quick rewind to last week and my trip to Connah’s Quay Nomads vs Newtown AFC. Had some lovely feedback regarding my opinion on their excellent fans, so thanks for that. Was also told that sat behind me at the game was Premiership referee Mike Dean, something I was blissfully unaware of. If I’d have known I would have happily passed on any comments that you may have on his refereeing ability.
Don’t be daft, of course I wouldn’t.
Only once have I spoken to a referee, and it was from a distance during a game. Leicester City away at Reading, and as I questioned the parentage of Andy D’Urso for not awarding a corner, we had one of those weird moments where everything goes quiet and he actually heard me. We exchanged glances. He smiled. I felt incredibly silly. I haven’t blushed that hard since I wet myself at school at the age of 5 whilst wearing yellow cotton trousers. That day, I looked like Rupert the Vagrant. I couldn’t help it, someone had told me that the toilets in our primary school were haunted and I genuinely believed them. After that I favoured a darker trouser, lest accidents happen again.
This weekend I was booked for two gigs at Nottingham Jongleurs, a comedy club which actually sponsors the team I chose to go and support. I can pretty much guarantee that will not happen again. I am hoping this gets me a free replica shirt (natty purple away one, size large) because I very rarely take up my hotel allocation for both nights when I work at any Jongleurs and therefore am saving them money. Look, I have to try something to get free stuff. Stop looking at me like that.
This week I decided to actually, you know, put some planning in to my Saturday afternoon entertainment. So I thought I would email the club and let them know I’m coming, ask for some tips and introduce myself. It probably helps that by my own self-inflicted rules I cannot accept free tickets, because at least when I send a club an email they don’t think I’m after something for nothing (except free shirts when sponsored by one of my main employers).
Enter Jamie Dixon, head of media at Meadow Lane. What a top bloke. He sent me a list of twitter contacts for fans, told me where best to sit, offered to plug this very blog and was as accommodating as he could possibly be. What a good egg. He did also explain that County are struggling at the minute and any possible good luck that I could bring their way (my presence improved things at Guiseley and Bristol Rovers) would be most welcome. What I liked most about Jamie is that he’s quite unashamedly a supporter of a different club – Walsall – but through his own hard work and dedication to the job has become part of the furniture at Notts County. Very grateful to him for his help, and more on him in a bit.
I dropped a twitter message or two to the fans that he told me about on Thursday, and asked if they would be free for a chat before the game. From a couple of them I was given the best reason ever why I couldn’t: Because they’d be in Hull before the game and would only get back right before the whistle. Why? So they could watch the youth team play.
Think about that for a second. The level of dedication it takes to get up early on a Saturday (they offered me a spare seat in the car but I can’t function on a Saturday morning around other humans), just to watch the kids from the team you support. That’s amazing. There was a time where I would go and watch Leicester’s reserves play, but that was because it was cheap and around the time of Sky kicking off with fireworks and cheerleaders, so “Family Night Football” – as it was known – became a fun night out with my mates. Once my friend Lee got thrown out for pressing the red hot water button on the concession stand drinks dispensers in the old Carling Stand at Filbert Street, missing the entirety of a 9-0 victory over Oldham Reserves with around 6,000 in the ground. I had to actually write that sentence out as it sounds like a quite ridiculous dream.
Therefore my expectations of utter dedication amongst the Magpie’s fans was high. Especially as when most people think of football in Nottingham, they think of the dark side. Forest. Boo and hiss.
Had to put that last bit in for the benefit of my Dad. He PROPERLY hates them.
With my high hopes I set off from my house on Friday afternoon, needing to visit my parents before getting to Nottingham to meet an old work friend (who is, annoyingly, a Forest supporter). Keen followers of me on Twitter will be aware that my Mum has recently come out of hospital after 6 weeks, following an operation to remove a brain tumour. I offered to do their shopping. If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you’ll know that no matter how hard I try, I get stuck in traffic every Friday afternoon. It happened again.
An hour late to my folks, I then tried to negotiate a Morrisons supermarket on a Friday evening. Every single person in there was walking around, mouth gaping, agog at the shiny floors, all looking like they’d never seen a supermarket before. Every single person got in my way, because I have clearly sinned far too much in my 35 years and trying to get anywhere on time is no longer allowed.
Eventually I got finished, saw my folks far too briefly and headed off to Nottingham where I once again got stuck in traffic and my journey took double the time. Then upon getting into the City Centre, Mickey Flanagan was playing at the Arena and so all parking spaces were used up. I parked a million miles away and had a sweaty walk across town, lugging all my stuff with me and cursing that I’m not as successful as he is. He is one of my heroes though, so I didn’t curse too long.
Once at the gig and changed, I found my old workmate Jono and chatted to him for a bit. We used to work together at Next, and I can remember us mainly dicking around. He left there a couple of years before me, and before I even started comedy. He’s seen me once before, also in Nottingham. When we worked together he introduced me to Ice Hockey, with him being a fan of the Nottingham Panthers. He writes their fanzine, does a YouTube show about them and is as obsessed with them as I am with watching football in as many different places as possible.
I can credit Jono with parts of my comedy career. When I started working at Next it was my first job after university, and I was cripplingly shy. Because we used to have such a laugh, he made me realise I could be the centre of attention for good reasons, not just for wee-stained yellow trousers. When he left Next I built a website dedicated to him. It was a one page website entitled “Jono Loves Goats”, where I insinuated that he had romantic intentions towards farmyard animals. It also contained the first jokes I ever wrote. I told all of my colleagues about the site a week before I told him. It remains my favourite ever practical joke. In second place is one I talk about onstage where I stole a picture from my boss’s desk of his wife and kids, and then reprinted it with my face photoshopped onto his kids faces. Of course at that point I was doing stand-up and wanted to be sacked so I could go on gardening leave and be paid to arse around in comedy clubs rather than in an office.
During the gig – which was quiet, presumably as everyone had gone to watch Mickey Flanagan – I could hear Jono’s laugh booming over everyone else’s. Was glad he was there, as hours in the car and feeling under the weather didn’t prepare me too well for the show. Got through it though.
I then retired to my hotel room, which is both the nicest I’ve seen in ages and also the smallest I have ever been in. Should I have packed a cat with me, I would not have been able to swing it. I kept making excuses to leave the room to stop the walls closing in.
Staircase wall, Hotel Mercure, Nottingham.
A sleepless night followed (I can’t sleep at the best of times, but in a tiny box without my Mrs is never going to lead to 10 hours kip). Even worse, every time I woke up I’d put the TV on for a few minutes. For some godforsaken reason they had sorted all the channels into ALPHABETICAL ORDER. Who does this? What kind of monster would subject me to that?
In the morning I went for a wander round Nottingham. This was by accident, as I find it the most confusing city centre in the world. Here’s the thing: I grew up about 30 miles away. I’ve worked there dozens of times. I should know my way around. I know my way around London better. In fact, I know my way around Singapore and Los Angeles better than I do Nottingham. I don’t know why I find it so baffling, but I will say this: It’s a very pretty city. As I write that I can feel my Father sharpening a knife.
My twitter feed is full of people that I like. I only follow people that I know in real life or who are seriously funny. Many of them enjoy coffee. I don’t get that. A couple of weeks back they were all going mental for the new red cups that signify winter is here (apparently). As it was bloody freezing, I thought I would sample me one of those special beverages. A gingerbread latte (the woman in front of me was obsessed with the amount of foam in her drink for some reason) was purchased. It was tolerable. I will never understand coffee snobs, in the same way that I’ll never get why people care about wine. Or olives.
After too long walking around I dropped my bag back at my car in the Broadmarsh Centre, which is not a prison. In some parts of the shopping centre it does seem to be one, or a very elaborate zombie movie. They had their Santa’s Grotto set up, which is apparently in 4D. How? How is there a 4th dimension? STOP USING PSEUDO SCIENCE TO BAFFLE OR ENTICE CHILDREN.
It’s a pleasant walk from the city centre to Meadow Lane, through some pretty streets, along the river and past a Hooters. I went in there with a mate once who made me swear that I’d never tell his wife that we were there. For some reason people think it’s a strip club, rather than a sub-par version of TGI Fridays. Presumably there’s one in Nottingham to capitalise on the stag party scene, with men flocking from far afield to realise the oft-spoken fact of there being 8 times more women than men in the city is actually an urban myth.
On my walk I bumped into two fans. They were clad in black and white, scarves proudly on display and talking excitedly about the game. Except they weren’t speaking English, but Italian. We all know the association between Juventus and Notts County from eons ago, but I was genuinely surprised to see two Juve fans attending the game. I tried to chat with them about it but neither spoke any English and my Italian stretches as far as telling a policeman than a child has stolen my wallet (the only phrase I can remember that I uttered during a trip to Naples). Was a shame, but we shook hands and bonded briefly over football.
Media man Jamie had retweeted something I’d written about attending the game, so I had a few tweets from County fans to read through. Most suggested that the real comedy was on the pitch at the moment, and one suggested that I bring a noose to the game. Could it really be that bad? I was at least going to the first home game of a new era of management at the club, with Shaun Derry installed as the gaffer. I’ve always liked him, mainly because he’s spent the last few years patrolling midfields with the swagger and hair of Paul Weller.
I liked them both. When people they knew passed by they would say “no surrender” and smile. Iris gave me a supporters club badge, and we bonded over Leicester signing former Forest captain Wes Morgan a couple of years ago merely to annoy that lot at the City Ground. Iris was a lady of coincidences, not least the fact that I mentioned going to Connah’s Key last week and she told me that her son used to play for them. Tis a small world. Hope the issues between them and the club get resolved; they mentioned that they currently have 500 members, which is a large percentage of County fans based on current gates.
I bought a chocolate bar in the ground. This may not sound like a big deal to some, but it was a Boost. I love Boosts. Even better, it meant breaking the Mars Bar / Kitkat / Twix monopoly that seems to have permeated into every single football club in the UK. I also had a bottle of Pepsi, which I immediately regretted as it was a) bloody cold and b) removed of its lid, so I’d have to hold it till I drank it. Bugger. I know it’s for safety reasons and all that, but if I could throw a full bottle from my seat towards the pitch and hit a Wolves fan or player then I’d have the strongest arm in the land.
My seat had a great view, arguably the best I’ve had all season. As I was one of the first in, I could watch the other fans arrive: Older fans getting in earlier, familes coming in and hugging their friends, kids playing on phone games as their mum hung up a County scarf on the posts behind their seat. The thing I really noticed was that everyone seemed to be friends with each other, in the same way that they were at Guiseley and Hastings but at a much bigger, older club.
As I sat and watched the teams warm up, I looked up at the scoreboard to find that Jamie had given this blog (and me) and really nice mention and a big old plug. I’ve only ever had my name on one other scoreboard (Filbert Street on my 21st birthday) so this was a landmark moment for me. Cheers Jamie!
About ten minutes before kickoff, the fans behind me on the back row of the Kop started banging their drums. Yes. Plural. And EVERYBODY around me clapped along and sung. Every single person. Miles ahead of kickoff. I’ve only ever seen such loud support so early on at cup finals. It might seem normal to most County fans, but in my duties as The Football Neutral I can assure you that this behaviour is a rarity, and it is bloody excellent.
The fans sang a song about a wheelbarrow. I was not aware of this, but thanks to the magic of the internet I now know what it’s all about. I think. God bless Wikipedia. Anyway, to the tune of “On Top Of Old Smokey” they sing:
“I had a wheelbarrow… the wheel fell off. I had a wheelbarrow, the wheel fell off.”
Makes no sense but sounds ace when sung by a load of people. Lots of theories on where it came from – mocking Shrewsbury fans, a quote from Neil Warnock or commenting on a groundsman – but it certainly makes a difference from just adopting a 1960s pop song.
Ahead of kickoff I saw quite a touching moment. County keeper Bartosz Bialkowski stood in his goal, head bowed, facing into his net, praying for a good minute or so. Whilst I’m an atheist, you can’t help but be moved by someone who believes in something so vividly, and who has no problem demonstrating that faith in front of complete strangers and his team-mates. He’s a quality keeper too, as was proved during the game several times.
Once the match was underway, the County support kept right behind their team. Wolves are the first side I’ve seen twice this season, and I know all about their strengths: Powerful winger Bakary Sako, playmaker James Henry, good centre backs in Richard Stearman and Danny Batth. They’re at the top end of the table for a reason. 26 points separated the two sides before the game, but you wouldn’t have known that from the first half. Five minutes in, the County fans applauded wildly just because their side were applying good pressure on Wolves whilst they were in possession. Shaun Derry had apparently called on his side to apply themselves, and the fans had chosen to be as vocal and supportive as they could be.
Marcus Haber was working on his own as a lone target man up front for County, and was working his socks off. Full of running and power, he was chasing down lost causes and holding the ball up for his team-mates. Haber is on loan from Stevanage, and another borrowed player with real quality is the tenacious Celtic loanee Callum McGregor, who has an air of James McCarthy of Everton about him.
And then there is Jamal Campbell-Ryce. I’ve seen him before, for Rotherham and Barnsley. The diminutive winger managed to score a few goals from wide last season, and he’s incredibly tricky. Best bit is that he tackles back, works hard and when he’s on form can’t be knocked off the ball. At one point in the first half he slipped over twice chasing across the Wolves defence for the ball, but still won it and created a good chance. Even better, to the tune of the “Banana Splits” theme tune, the County fans sing “Campbell-Ryce, la la la la”. THIS TUNE WILL NEVER LEAVE MY HEAD.
The County subs were doing their standard light jogging, and the massive Enoch Showunmi strode out in front of the Kop. A few fans sung his name and I was reminded of a fact that I love: Enoch Powell made his famous “Rivers of Blood” speech in the 1960s, and now the only other Enoch that I know of is a Nigerian international professional footballer who was born in England. Stick your incitement to racial hatred up your backside, Mr Powell.
(I know he can’t do that, being dead and all)
The game in the middle of the park was feisty, with Henry clashing with Alan Sheehan and David Davis putting in a horrible studs up tackle on Gary Liddle. The Wolves man escaped more than a yellow by hurting himself in the challenge, but then Liddle gave him a receipt a couple of minutes later that the referee turned a blind eye to.
It was a good first half for Notts, but clear-cut chances were hard to come by. That said, they contained a dangerous side in Wolves and looked a lot better than their league standing suggested. The fans eagerly applauded them off, and it had to be said that the near 3,000 travelling Wolves fans were silenced by County playing above and beyond what was expected.
During half time I wish I had bought a flask, despite years of mocking my father for taking one to Leicester games in years gone by. I also watched the game between members of a young local team, with the tannoy chap telling us the team in yellow were representing County, those in blue representing Wolves. The blues scored an amazing goal from long distance, and then the yellow’s keeper had to go off with an injury that he sustained giving away a penalty. The Wolves fans – closer to the action – got right behind the kids. I would have loved to have done something like that when I was 10. Even better, the teams were mixed – I watched a girl take a long throw in that I can only envy, even at 35 and doing weights every day.
As the second half kicked off, County picked up where they left off. Campbell-Ryce went close, but Wolves had a new threat up front with Leigh Griffiths on for Davis. Bialkowski was still a rock at the back though, making a few smart saves as County started to run low on ideas and energy. Despite the amazing – and I do mean that, it was constantly brilliant – backing from the stands, a team in poor form can start losing belief if things don’t go their way. As the goal didn’t come, Wolves got stronger and more threatening.
Carl Ikeme caught the ball from a County corner, threw it straight out to Sako who put Griffiths through – but again Bialkowski came out on top, this time in a tricky one on one situation. Then James Henry had a chance, with the tigerish McGregor tracking him all the way and harshly being booked for stopping the Wolves man when it looked like 50/50 competition for the ball. Henry is clearly talented, but is the whiniest player I’ve seen so far this season. Everything led to a complaint, and he could learn from his team-mate Sako who just seems to get on with his job.
It was Sako who won a free kick for Wolves on the left wing with his determination, and then delivered it for Ethan Ebanks-Landell to stab home his first senior goal in the 76th minute. And then I saw and heard something beautiful.
Before the free kick, the County fans were singing as loudly as they had throughout the entire game, drums being banged like we were in Rio rather than Nottingham. As the goal went in, the volume dipped for just a second. No more than that. And then… it got louder again. If anything, it became louder than ever before. It wasn’t necessarily to will the team to score, if anything the fans are the most realistic I’ve met. No, it was more to say “we don’t care, we still love you”. It was a wonderful, amazing moment and something I’ll remember next time I watch City play and I hear people complaining because we’re not 6-0 up after ten minutes.
Derry made substitutions but his men were tired and shell-shocked by the goal after playing so well for over three quarters of the game. As the County fans sang “you only sing when you’re winning” to their rivals, the lad behind me said, with a real tinge of sadness: “I can only imagine what that feels like, winning.”
I’ve also never seen as few fans leave early. With ideas running out, very few people left. If anything, as many Wolves fans made for the exits as County fans. When the final whistle blew, the County fans applauded and then carried on singing as they headed home.
The result put Wolves top, where they’ll probably stay with the squad that they have and the fortress that is Molineux. It puts Notts County bottom, 4 points away from safety and three defeats in a row for Shaun Derry as he starts his managerial career. But I saw enough to be convinced that they’ll be fine, there’s quality there and they just need to start playing the right way. They’re getting there.
And then there are those fans. It may be a cliché, but if they count for anything then County would be near the top of League One. Brilliant, committed, dedicated fans. They deserve the world. 20,000 in Meadow Lane and the glory days of the early 1990s back at the club would be a sight to behold.
Summary
Notts County 0 vs Wolverhampton Wanderers 1 (Ebanks-Landell 76)
Attendance: 7,520
Cost: Ticket £22, Parking Free (already in town, walked to game), Burger £3 (outside ground), Boost and Pepsi £3 (inside ground)
Fun Factor: 9/10
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