The Story of my Season

What would I want to do were I not a town planner? Every now and then I imagine myself as the Chief Football Writer at a broadsheet newspaper and to indulge that fantasy a little I have got into the habit of writing a match report on Instagram (@samuel__stafford) after every game that I have been to. This is a collation of reports that tell the story of my 2023/24 season.

Bolton Wanderers 3 Lincoln City 0

5 August 2023

Summer is football’s Spring. A period pregnant with possibility. Time suspended in the present. No buts, the past has gone. Only ifs, floating in the warm summer breeze. The fickle finger of fate is yet to the determine the future of a lucky chosen few. These look like decent signings. This could be our year.

Then, would you believe it, within four minutes the referee awards a corner that clearly should have been a goal kick (it was right in front of us, it really should), the switched-on attacker steals a march on the switched-off defender, and the ball begins an inexorable arc over your new goalkeeper and into the far corner.

Here we go again…

All of sudden the past comes flooding back; the leaden skies unload their cargo and the fellas behind you already start to contemplate the removal of the manager.

It is being suggested that the score is not an accurate reflection of the match and that if you take out the two lapses in concentration from set pieces and the own goal we were never really out of it. Ok. The other side of the coin is that their kit man could hang his goalkeeper’s outfit up for Tuesday without it needing a wash.

On balance, the new lads do look decent.

This was a game for Youngest and I to forget. I already have (but his phenomenal memory is such that he probably never will).

Eldest though did have a day to remember I am pleased to report. He went to watch Halifax beat Bromley with one of his pals and they went all by themselves.

It is the circle. The circle of life.

Almería 0 Rayo Vallecano 2

11 August 2023

Last season was Almería’s first in the top flight since relegation in 2014/15 and they stayed up by a point. They were only separated from Rayo Vallecano, themselves something of a yo-yo club, by six points and six places, but, to this observer's untrained eye, there is a fair bit more between them than that. Let’s call it game management or worldly-wisdom.

The guests knew full well how to buy a foul. They were as wily as coyotes. The hosts were all too eager to give fouls away. They were as hapless as Elmer Fudd, leaving legs out to tumble over here and arms out for the ball to hit there.

The referee got whistled off at half-time, but, whilst idiosyncratic (aren’t they all?), Almería were very much architects of their own downfall. It was two nil, by way of two penalties, within thirty minutes.

They were much improved after the break and gave it a good go, but with the sense that they were like the younger sibling swinging wildly whilst the elder one holds them at arms length.

I will let you do your own Googling on Almeíra if you are interested, but of note is that whilst this iteration was only founded in 1989 there has been a club in the city since 1909. Rumours that they have always played in red and white stripes because of a visiting Lincolnshire railway engineer were started by me tonight. They now play in a stadium built for the 2005 Mediterranean Games and whilst bowls, let alone bowls with remnants of running tracks, are very much not my thing, this was spick and span and clearly much cared for.

All in all it was another very enjoyable football adventure and very much worth the 300km round trip. Now if you will excuse me, it is the early hours, I have had my manchego and couple of cans of Victoria Málaga, and it is time to hit the hay.

Halifax Town 1 Oxford City 1

19 August 2023

Yesterday, jumping off of a pedalo into the crystal clear Mediterranean sea. Today, The Shay.

Sheffield United 0 Lincoln City 0 (Lincoln City won 3-2 on penalties)

31 August 2023

Between me and thee I bunked off a little early this afternoon. I took the boys into Sheffield and we had a bit of tea in a nice bar that we found close to both the ground and the city centre. We joined what was not quite a throng (this was obviously not as big a deal for them as it was for us), trickles if not streams, of people converging at the underpass in that timelessly convivial pre-match ritual. We squeezed into a proper old football ground of the kind that has one bar, one toilet, one way in and one way out for about three thousand people. We watched the Mighty Imps put up an account of themselves of which they should be proud and then beat a top flight side on penalties. We had a wonderful, wonderful evening.

Rochdale 0 Halifax Town 1

2 September 2023

Over 700 Shaymen, Shaywomen, Shayboys and Shaygirls made the short trip to Spotland this afternoon for a lively local encounter. Of those that did, and those that drove, we were the only ones that called in at The White House on Blackstone Edge for a pint. Of those that did, and those that got the train, I imagine that a fair few cans of Kopperberg got drank en route for it was lively in the away end.

(I do not think that this fixture has been known as the Blackstone Edge Derby hitherto, but I hereby propose it henceforth.)

This, Clive, was a game of two halves. No doubt buoyed by their boisterous backing, Halifax bossed the first half. Veteran Luke Summerfield ran the show having taken on the CDM role (which is what the FIFA kids call a holding midfielder nowadays) vacated when Harvey Gilmour decided to make the move down the A58 and over Blackstone Edge during the summer. I do not know for sure, but sense given the dog’s abuse that Gilmour got all afternoon that his move might have been ‘acrimonious’.

Town should have been more than one goal to the good at the break because it seemed evident to all concerned that they could not play that well again in the second half and the hosts could not play any worse. You really do have to take your chances at this level, Clive. Sure enough the roles reversed, but, for all their huffing and puffing, ‘Dale never really looked like scoring.

The highlight of the second period was undoubtedly a delicious nutmeg that the aforementioned Gilmour was subjected to by the aforementioned Summerfield. Gilmour looked tidy in the middle when we started going regularly at the end of last term, but looked lost on the right hand side this afternoon. His booking late on for a tired and frustrated pullback was entirely predictable.

All in all a lot of fun in the late summer sun. Were it not for a late Bristol Rovers goal Saturday afternoon spirits could not have been higher.

Halifax Town 1 Southend United 1

9 September 2023

It being too hot to concentrate at work is an excuse perfectly reasonable for somebody on a crowded train wearing a suit and tie not making progress with the draft of a Government consultation response to cling to, but cannot be accepted from Halifax’s defenders trying to explain away this slipshod performance.

The Shaymen were as dopy in the first half today as they were dynamic in the first half last week, but the backline was the most sluggish. If Southend were going to to create something, your correspondent opined at halftime, it would be of their hosts creation rather their own, and sure enough they went ahead not long after the break after a series of failures to clear.

Whatever went on next happened at the far end, but I do not know what it was because I did not see it. A Southend corner flashed across the box and drifted innocuously out of play for a goal kick. I looked away, took in the cloudless sky, sipped my water, and looked back in expectation of Sammy Johnson launching the ball back towards us.

Instead a handful of Halifax players had surrounded the referee and the travelling Shrimpers were gleefully singing ‘Cheerio’ as Luke Summerfield made his way towards the tunnel.

I found a Southend fan account on Twitter that said ‘Halifax controversially down to ten men as Summerfield is hit in the face by the referee who then sends him off’. I am sorry. What? Internet investigations will continue…

Whatever went on awoke the hosts from their slumbers and they deserved an equaliser, but by popular consensus they are going to need to improve at home if they are going to do anything this season.

The game then was not a cracker, but I think that this photo is. Eldest, who is old enough now to go on his own, is probably locked in for the season (and hopefully beyond). He and his pals like both the crack and a McDonalds in town beforehand.

Youngest and I have come to an agreement. If the Imps are within striking distance we will watch them. If not, and if Halifax are at home, we will watch them. If neither then we will pick the non-league adventures back up, which suits me just fine.

Lancaster City 0 Ilkeston Town 4

23 September 2023

The thing I was most looking forward to doing this weekend whilst haring down and up the country on trains this week was haring across Lancashire on trains today.

The drive to Lancaster is a relatively direct one from here, but, with Youngest’s railway enthusiasm reignited of late, the indirect longer journey was a chance to double the fun.

As the magic book* states, Great Axe (so named because of the shape of the wider historic park), visible as it is from the end of the platform, is the holy grail. It is “a fusion of groundhopping and trainspotting”, with the added bonus of a castle for a backdrop as well.

The Dolly Blues, named after a washing powder according to Wikipedia, were second in the Northern Premier League’s top division at the start of play. Ilkeston were twelfth and being led by, according to the programme, their third manager of the season (which sounds like a story worth investigating).

The visitors went ahead after a neat move and then the referee got involved. Ilkeston’s No. 9 got a straight red for seemingly saying something out of turn, but doubled their lead with another tidy finish. Then the hosts were denied a stonewall penalty that would have given them a sniff just before halftime. Eccentric decisions continued, Ilkeston went three up, and then got a fourth from a penalty won by way of a ludicrous dive.

As we made the short walk back to the station I found myself searching for similes of cunning, which I thought best described Ilkeston’s general attitude. After sly and wily Youngest finally got the gist with crafty.

If the coach with two dozen or so away fans was lively on the way up, and the state of some of them at kick off suggested that it might have been, it will have been even livelier on the way back down.

*Mike Bayly’s ‘British Football’s Greatest Grounds’.

Lincoln City 0 West Ham United 1

28 September 2023

A sold-out Sincil Bank. Under the lights. In the cup (well not ‘the cup’, ‘a cup’…). Against a top flight team.

A gale blowing straight down the pitch.

These Big Time Charlies won't like it up ‘em...

There was even a tribute to legendary manager Colin Murphy that precipitated one of those cathartic ‘Come on!’ roars that you only get after a minutes silence or applause.

The only thing that was not perfect as the tie got underway was our spare seat. Eldest came down poorly yesterday and I had been looking forward to taking them both tonight (Eldest is keen on the Premier League, not the Northern Premier League..).

We took a bit of a, ahem, hammering early doors. Last-ditch challenges, desperate lunges and decent saves. It threatened to be an uphill, upwind struggle, but, slowly but surely, a foothold in the game was established.

Reeco Hackett-Fairchild missed an absolute sitter of a header before the break and just as we were wondering whether it would be possible to miss an easier chance, Danny Ings danced through our back line before carefully sliding his shot past the post.

We went in all square then having drawn the first three thirds.

For the fourth third we had the wind, which had started blowing rain into the visitors faces. This could have been our time. The game got a little frenetic and the crowd got more involved. We just could not forge (ironworks, hammers…) another meaningful chance.

Then the wind dropped, the game became becalmed, and West Ham scored from a corner.

The player in the photo is Mohammed Kudus, who West Ham reportedly signed for £38m over the summer. He is a live wire alright, but it was noticeable that he did not show off his first half tricks and flicks after the break. They were given a real game, but ultimately class showed. It is the little things that are most noticeable. They control every difficult ball, make every difficult pass and contrive to keep hold of it in what looks like the tightest of corners.

Our lads did though do us and them and Colin proud. I did not want to be anywhere else tonight.

Halifax Town 2 Eastleigh 3

30 September 2023

According to AA Route Planner it is a 480 mile trip from Eastleigh to Halifax and back. The 36 visitors that are probably still an hour or so from home at the time of writing will not mind making it one bit.

From being 3-0 up they did contrive to give Halifax a sniff, but that is all it was. For an hour of this game it was men against boys.

One of those men, interestingly for an impartial Imps fan, was Chris Maguire, who did three things of note during an underwhelming season with us: scored a hat-trick against his former club Sunderland (when he did turn up); berated his own fans after a home defeat in the first round of the FA Cup against Hartlepool (when he did not); and got suspended for betting irregularities.

Maguire divides opinion between those who think he is brilliant, himself, and those who think he is a twat, everybody else.

He displayed the full gamut of his repertoire this afternoon. He stroked home the opening goal from this penalty and then gratuitously celebrated by cupping his ears in front of the kop; he swanned around trying to ping Hollywood passes; and then he got booked not for the desperate lunge and trying to win back a ball a poor first touch had given away, but for querying how on earth the referee, a mere mortal, had the authority to sanction a celestial superstar such as him.

Some shithouses are worthy of contempt, but some display such dedication to their craft that they are actually worthy of respect.

Eastleigh are a side of big, burly characters who, like Maguire to be fair to him, know how to play the game. It is hard beyond that to pin point why Halifax struggled so much. They seem to play most of the right notes most of the time, but just not necessarily in the right order.

They evidently have a problem at home though. One win and seven points from 21 at The Shay. Two wins and eight points from 18 on their travels.

It is perhaps a crisis of confidence more than anything, which is a two-way thing. Performances like that mean that some head home half an hour early and some of those that stay do so just to boo them off, which then makes another performance like that more likely next time out.

Leyton Orient v Lincoln City (match abandoned)

4 October 2023

When Stuart Pearce rifled in the free kick awarded as a result of Gazza’s foul on Gary Charles in the 1991 Cup Final I remember running out into the back garden of 29 Park Road, Barnstone to celebrate.

A little over a year later I looked forward to the start of the 1992/93 season as a Lincoln City supporter. My damascene conversation had come that summer when in the presence of Lincoln tonking top-flight Middlesbrough 5-1 in a pre-season friendly. I had known Alistair ‘Lardy’ Laird (pictured) since our first year of school together in Nottingham and was spending a couple of days at his house near Swinderby. His team subsequently became my team.

Lardy and I spent the promotion season of 1996/97 at Manchester University and went to a fair few games having befriended, early on, a couple of characters from Dukinfield on a train back from Darlington. That is another story or two, but Lardy and I have not really been to games regularly since. After his first year at Manchester he transferred to Oxford and then moved to Leamington. Home games are a long way for us both and his nearest away games are not my nearest away games.

Tonight though, by dint tomorrow of train strikes (me) and flying to Zurich (him) we found ourselves in London on the same night as our Mighty Imps.

We had two pints in The Magpie near Liverpool Street beforehand and one in The Bell near Bank afterwards. Both were his recommendations and both I can endorse.

The match itself was stopped with about five minutes to go because of a medical emergency a bit further along from us in the East Stand and was abandoned about 45 minutes after that. That we conceded early on thanks to a moment of madness, but kept battling away, have been struck from the record books.

This then is less a match report and more a paean to football itself. On the one hand an ever-present accompaniment on life’s endless highway. A touchpoint. A common thread for you and the friendships that football forges for you. In that sense it is more than a game. On the other hand though life is not an endless highway and football really is just a game. Both of those things can be true.

Blackburn Rovers 1 Cardiff City 0

21 October 2023

One of the joys of Twitter, from whence I have now withdrawn, was an account in the name of legendary Notts County Jimmy Sirrell that would post an old football photo at the start of the weekend and remind everybody that ‘Saturday is the day we play the game.’

That we take in a game is, for the most part, helpfully now taken for granted and so the question come mid-week is where.

Lincoln were within striking distance at Fleetwood, but we have been there before and our niece’s 21st birthday party started at 6pm so wherever we decided to go we had to be back for then.

I was in two minds, but on Wednesday afternoon committed to buying Blackburn tickets on the basis that it is closer than Fleetwood and, having never been before, a new ground to tick off.

This was, alas, as close to the dreariest Championship match you could possibly imagine. There are, without doubt, at least six teams better than these two and at least three teams worse. The scent of mid-table mediocrity was overpowering.

In the first half Blackburn were toothless and Cardiff appeared unlucky to have a goal from a corner disallowed. It looked for all the world as though a cross-border smash and grab raid was the Welshmen’s for the taking, but they were equally ineffective after the break and Blackburn finally managed to fashion a chance from which they scored.

As it transpired Lincoln sacked Mark Kennedy on Wednesday night making an away win, as per the immutable laws of football, inevitable.

Not to worry. Three points for the Imps and a new ground for me. A good Saturday.

Lincoln City 1 Morecambe 2

4 November 2023

My niece and some of her Lincoln City Ladies U14 teammates had flag-waving and ball-retrieving duties this afternoon. She, like my brother-in-law, are Forest fans and so as neutrals quite enjoyed this entertaining cup tie, though obviously not as much as the 192 Shrimpers who had travelled from Lancashire.

Lincoln were excellent for half an hour and could, should and needed to be more than one goal to the good. ‘They have switched off here’, I said to my brother-in-law after 40 minutes or so, and they had. ‘You can see what is coming here’, my brother-in-law said to me as Morecambe won their first corner, and we could. A free header, not from that first corner, but a second one won from it.

They went in then with their tails up and we went in with our heads down.

Whatever our caretaker manager said at halftime did not do the trick. They looked a different team for the first half an hour of the second half and scored the second goal that we should have done when similarly dominant. They could have had more actually. We rallied late on, hit a post and a had a substitute go close a couple of times, but, having dared to dream on the way down down this morning, Tottenham Hotspur away in the third round will have to wait until next year.

After pie and pies and a nice warm fire at my sister and brother-in-law’s house it occurred to me heading back that were I an actual football writer I could cleverly compare the trajectory of the match to the trajectory of Tom Shaw’s temporary managerial tenure. A bright start (two wins), a stutter (a draw), and two steps back (two defeats). Lincoln are ticking along in neutral and need a permanent occupant in the driving seat as soon as possible.

Southport 1 South Shields 0

11 November 2023

Once upon a time, the summer of 2004 to be precise, as a result of a friendship between my then employer and somebody senior at the University of Louisville, I got to spend six weeks in Kentucky, taking a class on campus and serving as a intern at the Louisville City Metro (Council).

That occupied about half of my time. The other half was mostly filled thanks to being befriended by a very nice planning student called Joe Haberman.

As it transpired I got to return the favour when Joe secured a work experience opportunity at said employer in Lincolnshire the following year.

We like each other’s Facebook photos every now and then (mostly football grounds - Joe has a season ticket at FC Cincinnati) but we have not seen each other since. A few weeks ago though he messaged me to say that he would be in Liverpool for a boys trip (specifically a “pilgrimage” to Anfield tomorrow) and would I like to catch up.

How better then, thought I, to juxtapose Yankee Joe’s Grand Slam Super Sunday than to pick him up and treat him to a Saturday afternoon in English football’s sixth tier.

We spent a very pleasant couple of hours reminiscing about getting absolutely spannered kayaking down the Ohio River*, a weekend in Chicago, and late nights in The Grenville (where my Mick Jagger impression was apparently spoken about for months afterwards). He remembers me taking him to see the Mighty Imps and the epic finale to the Ashes test match at Trent Bridge.

Joe, as it happens, now works at the Louisville City Metro so we also talked planning.

Oh yes. The game.

South Shields were absolutely tremendous. They are easily the best non-league side I have seen over the past couple of years of non-league adventuring. They just simply could not score.

Southport won the softest of penalties on the hour mark (possibly recording their only shot as a result) and that was that.

Joe had a sausage roll and a couple of pints of Golden Sands. He loved it.

*I am listening to my Creedence playlist as I write this and I wait for Match of the Day because Joe got me into them on that trip.

Lincoln City 2 Barnsley 2

25 November 2023

The 1997/98 season, my second year at Manchester, was a fantastic one. Woolton Hall FC, a side chockablock with characters, lit up the University league with a swashbuckling style that only teams with the security of a quality goalkeeper behind them can pull off; my old school mate Lardy and I followed John Beck’s long ball Lincoln on their road to promotion; and, having befriended fellow Wooltonians Barnsley Pete and Barnsley Mike (themselves childhood friends) I also followed the Tykes to a few Premier Leagues grounds during their one season in the sun.

I had not planned on going today, but Barnsley Pete got in touch a couple of weeks ago to say that he was heading up from London for it. We have not seen each other in a very, very long time so of course I went down, meeting both Pete (left) and Lardy (right) at The Golden Eagle.

Pete had the good grace to venture over a quick post-match pint that a draw was a fair result. For my money, Clive, we burgled a win at Leyton Orient on Tuesday and can count ourselves fortunate to have claimed a point today. As a malcontent sat behind me opined though, if Michael Skubala is a lucky coach then it might not matter if he is a good coach.

An early penalty was the perfect start, but Barnsley ran the show in the first half. Jovon Makama, our young non-scoring striker, passed up another opportunity for a first league goal on his first league start.

Barnsley’s goals came in quick succession after the break and, as I said to Pete, you could see them coming a mile away. We switched off and they sensed, as we all did, our momentary vulnerability and pounced on it.

It is to their discredit that they did not kill us off and to our credit that we maintained a foothold in the game and managed to nick a goal from a corner late on.

Remarkably for what already feels like a curate’s egg of season, with no strikers and three people having been in charge already, we are ninth in the table. All outcomes this season still seem possible.

Anyway. I have time to send Pete a message before Match of the Day. I have his mobile number now. I will tell him that we should not leave it so long next time.

Wigan Athletic 0 Lincoln City 0

9 December 2023

The wind tried its best to stop us, but we did finally get our coats off and into the boot. As we did so a Wigan fan getting into the adjacent car called across.

‘Was it worth it!?’

He perhaps assumed that we had travelled three hours from Lincoln and not one hour from Halifax, and he was probably asking the question of himself as much as us, but it was a legitimate one.

Would you swap everything else that you could, and indeed, were you to ask another household member, should, be doing on a Saturday afternoon, for a nondescript retail park and a nondescript pint in a nondescript pub before watching two hours of nondescript football?

On any rational, transactional, objective basis that deal is not worth taking. Would it have been though if we had nicked an unlikely late winner? Well, yes. Would it have been if they had nicked an unlikely late winner? Well, no.

You never do know when setting off, or when nursing that nondescript pint when you get there, but you cannot fully appreciate the high points without enduring the lows and all of the mediocrity in between them.

This game had nil nil written all over it from as soon as Lincoln failed to capitalise on what was quite a bright start and so in lieu of anything interesting to say about the game itself I thought I would dwell instead on the nature of what it is to be a football supporter.

It is December and I am still to come to a view on what I think about this Lincoln team. Top half with no attacking threat is laudable, but there was an opposition here for the taking and we seemed to lack both the wherewithal to sense it and the ability to do anything about it.

Perhaps more of our character will be revealed at Accrington on Tuesday. That will be worth the trip I am sure.

Accrington Stanley 1 Lincoln City 0

12 December 2023

We got there in time for kick off, but were a little later than planned setting off because I was helping to craft media lines in advance of another Government announcement on planning and housing later in the week.

The next NPPF will be a big deal, but equally, given where we are in the electoral cycle, its future significance will not be what it says about housing and planning specifically but rather what it says about the current administration’s approach to governing generally. Important, then, but not important.

Lincoln did not score, which will come as little surprise to regular readers. We were, again, solid enough at the back, neat and tidy in the middle, and toothless up top. They threatened the goal more often probably, but mostly from set pieces and mostly their efforts went straight at the keeper.

As the clock ticked through the 70s I joked with the boys how lucky they were not to be on the sofa watching the Champions League. They observed, fairly, that to that point two disallowed goals would not be sufficient to remember the game by.

Then, as the clock ticked towards 90 and we realised that we did not actually know if it would go straight to penalties, something happened. Their live-wire winger collected a long ball towards the touchline and our wingback did not get close enough quickly enough (which pleasingly for know-all Dads everywhere I did point out in realtime). He cut inside and unfurled from something like 25 to 30 yards out a curling shot that I can say without fear of cliche (because we were sat right behind it) was heading for the top corner from the moment he hit it. We barely had time to progress much beyond the centre circle following the restart.

This was the first knockout round of the Bristol Street Motors Trophy, which took Eldest and I to Wembley a few years ago when it was the Checkatrade Trophy. It is worth winning, obviously, but given the relative tumult this season the significance of this game is more about developing a style of play under a new coach. Important then, but not important. A goal to remember though nonetheless.

Derby County 3 Lincoln City 1

21 December 2023

It is not uncommon to come across somebody with an affinity for a lower league team in the property world. It is not often though that you come across somebody who goes to watch a lower league team. In my experience those of us that do strike up an instant rapport.

I recall being quite nervous before a big legal meeting regarding the best site that I did subsequently secure for BDW. The other side’s solicitor and I were there early and his eyes lit up when, having asked who I followed, I said Lincoln. ‘I saw them at Gresty Road in 1970-something…’, he said. The final round of negotiations went swimmingly.

The MD at BDW’s Solihull office is a Derby fan and he asked me if I would like to go with him tonight. I could so, of course, I did. He also kindly bought me a curry and a pint beforehand and we did what all former colleagues (and indeed football fans) do - enjoy a good moan about the management.

The game followed a now familiar pattern. We started very brightly and by common consensus played much the better football for the first twenty minutes or so without, once again, fashioning a chance. They scored from their third opportunity, but gave us a lifeline from a silly penalty right on the stroke of halftime that the offending defender was hooked for during the interval.

For ten minutes after the break we played them, again by common consensus, off of the park. They were ragged, we were ebullient, their fans fretful, our travelling army buoyant. The next goal was going to win it, but we did not threaten the net let alone find it.

They did, from a scruffy set piece, and then again when we lost some shape and some composure later on. I did not think it did, but my host was gracious enough to suggest that the scoreline flattered them. They will be up there, I do not doubt. We remain a work in progress, but progress there is certainly signs of.

Oh for a cutting edge. Hopefully the Chairman is asking Father Christmas for a striker or two.

Hibernian 2 Motherwell 2

2 January 2024

When the ball is in play you watch it. Beforehand (the pubs, the streets, the queues), when the ball is out of play, and afterwards, there are opportunities to watch people as well. I enjoy watching football and I enjoy watching football in new grounds, and watching people watching football in new grounds is a fantastic way to garner insights about a place.

Incongruously (a good planning word), this view is shared by Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day. I recently came across an interview with him about spending time in London recording a new album and he said that to “experience British culture” you should go to places like Leyton Orient and Millwall.

Easter Road is not in the magic book*, but this is a great ground. Hibs played their first match in 1875, reformed in 1892 and secured a lease for a piece of land called Drum Park in the same area of the city that was equidistant between their two sources of support, the Old Town and the Irish immigrants in Leith.

The first match played here was in 1892 and it remains, first and foremost, somewhere to watch football. Compact and coherent. This is not a twenty-four seven revenue-generating facility.

The game was a good one. Hibs played the better football in the first half and were most threatening down the flanks because of tricky wingers and overlapping fullbacks. One of the wingers cut in to score first, but they conceded a sloppy goal shortly afterwards. After the break Hibs’ best players went quiet and so did they. Motherwell scored another scrappy goal and for all the world looked like they would see out a conventional smash and grab raid, but Hibs piled on some pressure late on and snatched a point.

As it transpired today was perfect for illustrating the validity of Billie Joe and my view on the merits of football as a social observatory. We heard exponentially more Scottish accents going up and down the stairs than we did going up and down the Royal Mile.

*Mike Bayly’s ‘Great British Football Grounds’.

Maidenhead Utd 0 Ebbsfleet Utd 1

23 January 2024

Lower league football fans in property circles, as I may have mentioned previously, are a relatively rare breed, but groundhoppers are a different breed still.

As it happens, a very nice chap who does something similar to me for an organisation similar to mine has a similar affection for football grounds. As it also happens, our two organisations are meeting for lunch in London tomorrow and neither of us had ticked this place off so it was handy that we both happened to come down today. I say ‘come down’ (he is from Stockport), but he actually came up from Brighton to where he had managed to manipulate his diary in order to tick off the Amex Stadium last night. A different breed indeed…

Formed in 1870, Maidenhead played their first game on the cricket field at Canal Lane, later York Road, in 1871. Then, as now, anybody travelling on the Great Western Railway might catch a glimpse of the action as they fly past.

Two fascinating Magpie-related facts from the Magic Book*.

Firstly, since Hallam FC didn’t play at Sandygate** between 1933 and 1947, York Road has been recognised as the oldest senior football ground in the world continuously used by the same club.

Secondly, Maidenhead entered the inaugural FA Cup in 1871/2 and have entered every FA Cup (apart from 1876/77) since then.

To the match. It was a good one because of a narrative arc familiar to all football fans. It was pretty even for the first twenty minutes or so (both are close to the bottom of the National League), but Maidenhead began to dominate and hit the woodwork twice before the break. That pattern continued, but, slowly but surely, and in no small part due to their hosts profligacy, Ebbsfleet began to establish a foothold. Sure enough, indeed as sure as night follows day, they nicked it in the 83rd minute.

As we walked back to the station the conversation reverted to mundane matters like work and career paths and the meaning of life and, as I sit here reflecting on both that and tonight’s game of football, it seems abundantly clear to me that you really have just got to take your chances.

*Mike Bayly’s Great British Football Grounds.

**On the list.

Lincoln City 0 Peterborough United 0

27 January 2024

If you have ever spent time in the kind of shop that sells ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ posters then you will know that it is also important to find the little things in everyday life that make you happy.

Ice Cube, for example, liked nothing more than his Momma’s cooked breakfast, getting pager messages from his friends, a game of basketball, maybe a game of dominoes, and not getting pulled over by the police.

Today I watched a rearguard Ollie Pope century; took the boys for haircuts (where you can see them getting older and more handsome before your very eyes); had sausages (possibly the best in the world) from the local farm shop (which is back taking monthly online orders having closed a couple of years ago); watched a vibrant Lincoln nearly score a goal and nearly win a game; had a curry at my sister’s house with all of the Staffords present (and beat Our Kid at FIFA); and have just, having got home and got the others to bed, opened a bottle of Bishops Finger.

Yes you read that right. A ‘vibrant’ Lincoln. We have been pretty tepid and pretty turgid at times this season. Like England under Mike Atherton, trying not to lose before even contemplating trying to win. Not today though (and not last week against Derby apparently). Confidence has perhaps sprung as a result of going, almost overnight, from having a paucity of striking options to having a surfeit.

The Posh were underwhelming for a team in third and were outplayed in the first half, though to be fair they did hit the bar from their first foray into the final third just before the break. They started the second half brightly and had us under pressure at the end, but in between it was Lincoln creating, but alas, missing chances.

The season could conceivably still go one of three ways, but most likely is that we finish slap bang in the middle. If though this sprit of positive intent, this joie de vivre, this, dare I say it, living, laughing and loving, does continue then there should not be too much disquiet about that.

On top of all of this I did not even have to use my A.K.

I have got to say it was a good day.

Halifax Town 2 Woking 1

17 February 2024

You do not see pitches that influence the outcome of a game very often any more, even in the lower leagues and perhaps even the non-league. That is not to suggest that the pitch at The Shay is poor, but the extent to which a few bare and sticky patches influenced the roll of the ball was noticeable.

Did those bare and sticky patches influence the outcome of the game? The Woking goalkeeper was probably making that case on the long coach ride back down south. Shortly after letting a corner sneak into his near post he dived under the bounce of a fairly innocuous looking shot from the edge of his box. His teammates were not very happy with him and he no doubt naturally sought to deflect the blame.

Woking got a decent goal back, Halifax having not killed the game off, and neutrals would not have begrudged them an equaliser with the last touch of the match (ex-Imp Charley Kendall deserved better from an excellent cross), but their custodian’s lackadaisicalness left them with too much of a mountain to climb.

The quality of the pitch, shared with the rugby league club, was also in my mind because of recent news that the Council, the freeholder, might be considering disposing of this 100 year-old venue in order to save a few quid.

According to a Council budget paper, “the proposal would seek to transfer a long leasehold interest to one of the clubs, or to a company that is jointly owned and run by the two clubs. If the two clubs were not interested in acquiring the site, disposal could be considered on the ‘open market’ with the two clubs as ‘sitting tenants’.”

The same budget paper identifies a need for £18 million of savings over the next three years to which the disposal of The Shay would apparently contribute £161,000 a year.

Alarm bells start to ring.

“Should a council be in the business of owning a football and rugby club venue”, the Council Leader has been reported as saying.

Well, yes, if the alternative is that there is no football and rugby club.

Oscar Wilde’s description of a cynic could equally apply to anybody who works at His Majesty’s Treasury. Somebody who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.

Manchester City 1 Brentford 0

20 February 2024

There was not much singing where we were, up among the half-and-half scarves, the tourists, the students entertaining themselves by betting on corners, and the screaming school kids enjoying a half-term treat, but the regulars sang intermittently about City being the best team in the land and all the world.

On an objective basis this is difficult to argue with, but on a subjective basis one can see why they are not everybody’s over-priced halftime cup of water with a teabag in it.

I remember (and I do not remember many matches) coming away from Eldest’s first City game in 2017, a 3-1 win over Arsenal, comparing watching City to playing Downfall (Google it, Kids). That day City players seemed to operate in revolving, interchangeable groups of three, moving the ball as if it were a disc in a dial, back and forth and from side to side. There was wit and guile and sophistication.

Youngest asked walking back to the car tonight who our Player of the Match would have been, which led me to think that, actually, you only notice a City player when they err somehow. This team seem one-dimensional almost. Programmed to patterns of play that make any hint of independent thought a hookable offence (has anybody ever compared Pep Guardiola to John Beck?). The system. The system. The system.

The pass of the match was a perfectly-judged low, sliced Ederson clearance from a safely-gathered corner that could have sprung a counter attack, but the computer in Phil Foden’s brain said no and he waited and waited and waited for Brentford to get back so that they could probe and probe and probe as they had just tried time and time and time again.

It is, as they say, a game of opinions and football is a results-based business, Clive. This game might well have gone a different way though. When they were not shithousing Brentford had and played to a clear game plan, especially in the first-half, and that very near came off.

All of that matters not one jot though. What matters is how excited the boys were as we had tea before setting off, the hugs I got when they saw Haaland score, and the smiles on their faces as they told their Mum all about it.

FC United of Manchester 1 Workington AFC 2

2 March 2024

If your child’s footie team was going to fold without a new coach would you get involved?

If your local pub closed and only the formation of a Community Interest Company could save it from redevelopment would you get involved?

If rapacious asset-strippers swapped the soul of your club for a mountain of debt would you found a new one?

Volunteers, you gain a greater appreciation for as you get older, are the glue that binds social fabric together. Things do not just happen. Things only happen if somebody wills it to happen. There was not a football ground, a football club and a community asset here ten years ago, which is a remarkable thing and I have nothing but admiration and respect for the people that made that happen.

The prompt to visit today was a chap in a band I follow on here sharing a gig poster he had created for another band that was playing in the bar before kick off. His band is Fruit Tones and the band in question was Mister Strange. They were too loud for Youngest and so we did not hang around for long, but that they were on and that the bar was stocked with decent hand-pull is testament to the punkish outlook of this supporter-run enterprise which is of a kind that English football needs much more of.

The game itself was not the best. FC Utd were gifted a goal early on care of a calamitous backpass, but Workington equalised almost immediately thanks to a shot from the edge of the box that deviated off the surface as if bowled by Shane Warne.

The ‘keeper could count himself unlucky with that one, but not Workington’s late-ish winner. Having already got away with a loose pass that went straight to a forward earlier (and which led to the goalmouth action in the photo), he inexplicably did the same thing about ten minutes later. The veteran, somewhat portly, dictionary definition of a non-league striker, could not believe his luck.

Little of note happened between the two Workington goals though, to be fair Clive, they did at least try to play the better football and were good value for the win.

A pie, a pint and a programme. At the end of that day, football as it is meant to be.

Lincoln City 5 Bristol Rovers 0

16 March 2024

After the loss at Derby before Christmas we were four games into a run of eleven without a win and I wrote on here about a work in progress. A team playing brightly without fashioning chances.

After a goalless draw against Peterborough at the end of January we were three games into a run that has just become thirteen without defeat and I wrote on here about a vibrant, confident side that, whilst mid-table remaining the most likely outcome of the season, was imbued with a new spirit of positive intent.

That we were on an upward trajectory was foreseeable. That we would score sixteen goals in the last three games was not.

‘Are Lincoln always this good’, asked a young lad I was sat next to after a genuinely blistering opening twenty minutes put the game to bed. It transpired that he, an Everton fan, is in the Navy and had come up from RAF Cranwell just to take in a game.

As the rest of the first half meandered along, all parties seemingly stunned into a bewildered silence by the relentless opening barrage, he politely listened to a tale that I do now so love to tell. The tale of 2,500 people watching an established Conference side to 9,500 people watching an established League One side in no time at all.

The second half was twice as riotous as the first by virtue of being unrelenting. Two more goals, one when down to ten men, and a consolation penalty, awarded in the most ludicrous of fashions, missed in an equally ludicrous fashion. ‘This is a great game’, observed my temporal Scouse mate, and it was.

On the way down, at my insistence, we listened to a Modern Soccer Coach podcast from 2021 with then England Futsal Team Head Coach and now Imps boss Michael Skubala. On the way up, at Youngest’s insistence, we listened to the TalkSPORT commentary on the City game with former Blues boss Stuart Pearce. The contrast could not have been starker. One bright, intelligent, empathetic and fizzing with ideas. One dull, unimaginative, ponderous and laden with platitudes.

The climax of the season will be immeasurably more exciting than anybody dared dream at the turn of the year, but, whatever the future brings, these are halcyon days.

Carlisle United 1 Lincoln City 3

1 April 2024

Football. Bloody hell.

You would be forgiven for assuming having seen this result that, with Carlisle floundering and Lincoln flying, this was a routine affair.

It was very much not. Old school commentators still talk about ‘the wringer’. The travelling support were put through it.

Lincoln did start brightly and, having conceded a couple of presentable chances, did get the early nerve-calming goal. Whilst the rest of the first half was a contest between Championship-bound aesthetes and League Two-bound artisans, a second goal would not come and the consensus at halftime was that the greatest threat in the second period was going to be complacency.

Oh to be a fly on the wall in the changing rooms during the break. Lincoln, one imagines, were calmly and cerebrally encouraged to focus on ‘the process’. Carlisle, one imagines, got the bollocking of all bollockings.

The hosts were relentless after the restart and the visitors were not just penned in their own half, but penned in their own box. Corner followed corner followed corner, but then, from out of nowhere, a breakaway goal that would surely dampen their spirit.

It did not. Back they came again. If they do go down it will not be with a whimper.

Carlisle did finally and deservedly get a goal with ten minutes left and, when eight minutes of added time was announced, a draw (or worse…) would not have been a surprise. The 700-odd Yellowbellies in the away end rose and one to sing their side over the finishing line.

In the end, class, as it always does, tells. Lincoln kept the ball, moved the ball and invited a series of free kicks. ‘Top corner this’, said my mate Nick as Super Teddy Bishop lined one up three minutes into the eight. Into the top corner it duly went. That did finally dampen Cumbrian spirits and the paddock started to empty.

Technically this Lincoln side is the best that this correspondent has ever seen. Temperamental they were tested on Friday and tested again today and passed on both occasions.

Who is to know how this season ends, but, as the Irish philosopher R. Keating once said, life is a rollercoaster and you just have to ride it.

Kidderminster Harriers 0 Halifax Town 2

6 April 2024

In one of the boxes of programmes in the garage is the souvenir of my first Lincoln away game, which my Dad took me to the day after my 15th birthday. I recall getting it signed by some of the players during the warm-up (including Jason Lee, I think) but then the mind plays tricks. I felt sure that Lincoln won 3-2 at Walsall that day, but after Googling just now it was actually 2-1.

This was not Eldest’s, now a regular at The Shay, first Halifax away game, but Rochdale is about as close to us as The ‘Fax and he had been there with me before that game. This was the first time that we had gone to pick one of his pals up (it was his first ever away day), had bacon sandwiches, and made a proper day of it.

I have been to this Magic Book* ground before (I will have to one day check the programme boxes, but it was in the early 2000s), but I have never been to the Madejski, upon which 1,475 Imps descended today. Would I rather have been there (especially since this game was actually on TV)? That matters not. A promise is a promise. Youngest’s Easter present was a full day at the Keighley & Worth Valley Railway Steam Gala the other week. Whilst he was delighted that Aggborough is next to the Severn Valley heritage line, this was very much Eldest’s Easter treat.

The worst part of the day was the game itself. I did expect more from a team needing points to stay up and a team needing points to go up, but if you were flicking through the channels and came across this it would not have held a neutral’s attention for more than five minutes, perhaps ten if you learnt in the first five that ‘Kiddie are managed by Phil ‘team talk on the pitch’ Brown.

The Shaymen were better after the break and probably value for a win, but if they end up winning the play-offs I will eat the hat that I regret leaving in the car (it was early spring at the first whistle and late winter come the last).

The boys though loved it, so I loved it, which, when I dig this programme out of a box in a garage or a roof in twenty or so years time, is what I will remember today for.

*Mike Bayly’s ‘British Football’s Greatest Grounds’.

Oxford United 0 Lincoln City 1

16 April 2024

Do not cry because it is over. Smile because it happened.

That is how I was going to start this match report had Lincoln not got the win that, having dropped five of the six most recently available points, was needed to keep play-off hopes alive. I started with it anyway.

To be in with even a sniff of promotion with three games to go was inconceivable back in the dog days of Autumn when we could barely score let alone win. Facing a side that tonked Peterborough here on Saturday, there would have been no disgrace in giving it a good go, but calling time on a phenomenal second half of the season that lays a platform for the next one.

The match programme’s ’They played for both…’ section featured Trevor Hebberd*, who won the Milk Cup with Oxford in 1986 and spent the 1994/95 season during which, he admits in the article, his knees were close to being arthritic. I have watched some forgettable Lincoln sides and that was certainly one of them. This one very much is not.

We were magnificent this evening and the game had everything. A bright start, a couple of misses, a couple of saves, silly yellow card after silly yellow card, a penalty just after the break, control, no control, the inevitable red card, and then a backs-to-the-wall rearguard action, all played out to the beat of a drum in the thousand-strong away end that did not stop all evening.

I wrote during the Cowley era that their successes were like the dividend on 25 years of emotional investment. Here we are a few years later and, the brief Mark Kennedy aberration aside, dividends are still being paid out. If the bulk of this squad does stay together next season then Lincoln’s stock looks set to climb even higher.

As far as this season goes our destiny remains out of our hands, but, Wembley or no Wembley, I will always have tonight to remember this season by.

*Ask me sometime about when, as a very young referee, he ran a line for me.

Halifax Town 2 Oldham Athletic 2

18 April 2024

Regular readers might recall that the state of the Shay’s pitch featured in the report of Halifax’s win over Woking.

It was poor then and near incessant rain and the start of the rugby league season since has rendered it unplayable.

Perhaps foreshadowing the day United play City in another country, this was a local derby played in the next county.

That only 1500 or so were able to make the trip was a shame because it was a very engaging spectacle. Seconds on Tuesday passed like minutes at times. This game, freed from the burden of partiality, cantered along.

Unlike Lincoln, Halifax’s play-off destiny remains in their own hands, but if it does slip from grasp on Saturday they will rightly bemoan their profligacy this evening.

Halifax are a curate’s egg of a team. They look at times like asthetes, especially compared tonight to Oldham’s gnarly yeomanry, and whilst they try to play all of the rights notes they never seem able to do so in the right order.

Having contrived to find themselves 2-1 down to goals from a corner and a penalty they did not just get back into the game but they created chances, almost at will lack on, that could and indeed should have won it. Something is missing that detracts from the clarity of thought and the confidence necessary to make the right decisions at the right time.

Whilst my emotional investment lies elsewhere, the three little fellas in the car with me certainly hope that this was not our last Halifax game of the season. Eldest’s pal started his first chant tonight and you never forget starting your first chant. I would not mind taking them to Wembley to see if he can start one there.