Nearly all day Wednesday and for part of the time at the ground, most of us thought that our game at Totton would be called off. There was a couple of minutes when we were 3-0 down that we’d have all been glad or a torrential downpour or a floodlight failure. But come the final whistle, everyone affiliated with Dorch was very glad there wasn’t as we came from behind to claim a remarkable 4-4 draw in one of the most batshit crazy games of football I’ve ever seen.
This was a fixture I’d pretty much all but written off given the recent weather. Totton’s comically late postponement at home to Bracknell last Saturday was followed by videos of the home playing surface looking like a river bank rather than a football pitch, and there hadn’t exactly been a heatwave in between times to dry the saturated surface. When a 1600 pitch inspection was announced I was so confident it wouldn’t be on that I’d not even got myself a train ticket from London to Totton, or packed a bag as I planned to stay in Dorch for a few days after. Come 1605 and the game was confirmed as on, so I now had to hurry as I flung things in a bag and got a train ticket that cost far more than I would have liked to pay. Plans were confirmed for me to be billeted at El Generale’s residence for the night, and I got the bus to Waterloo to get a train that should see me arrive in Totton at 1900 on the dot. Also travelling with me was a small figure of Robbie Fowler that I was due to drop off to JW. Perfectly normal non-league fan behaviour.
The journey was busy, but on time and uneventful, and as I pulled into a damp Totton station and awaited El Gen’s motorcade I had a look for the team news. It hadn’t been announced yet. As El Gen arrived with Pete and JW in the car with him, Neil Walton, who was at the ground for the Echo, tweeted there was about to be another pitch inspection. Fucking brilliant. It wasn’t until 1920 that the players actually came out for a curtailed warm up, and although Totton said there was no further inspection after Neil’s tweet, there had apparently been one and the warm ups were shortened to help protect a surface that would undoubtedly cut up. With 20 minutes until kick off, we finally got the team news, and we were unchanged from the Harrow game where a last gasp header from Fletch had got us a much deserved 2-2 draw.
This is the first time I’d been to Totton, and it’s one of those grounds like Salisbury that has an ‘it’ll be nice when it’s finished’ feel to it. The main stand, bar facilities, club shop and the playing surface are all of a very good standard. The other three sides look like they’re just waiting to be completed with two or three step terracing, a small stand, and little to no shelter. I also was appalled to see several Southampton shirts and crests around the place. I know that Southampton women and several other of their sides play there, but it still made me feel nauseous. Apparently both James Beattie and Matt le Tissier, two ex-Scummers of notoriety, were in the crowd as well, but that might just have been what the mainstream media want you to think…
Entry was through the club shop rather than a turnstile, and there was sadly no emergency service discount, but after all the hassle, we’d arrived and it was game on. There was a good number of Dorch in the bar and I had the usual pre-match chat with Lee Loder and Scott about what we thought the night’s entertainment would be like. Scott had by chance met former DTFC player and terrace hero of yesteryear, Pete Poore, at the Avenue as Pete and his wife had just popped by to see the ground. Pete won’t be a name familiar to many newer Dorch fans, but he made 476 appearances for the club, scoring 110 goals in a near ten-year spell that saw promotion, relegation, bouncing back from that with a title win, four golden boots and more hairstyles than he’d care to remember. His son, Carl, would also go on to play 132 games for us. Scott has showed Pete around the ground and was chuffed to have a look around and see some photos in the bar of both himself and Carl in their playing days. I hope to interview Pete for a new edition of ‘The Long Read’ soon, and hopefully both he and Carl can make the Beaconsfield home game this coming Saturday.
As we chatted about the game ahead, no result would have particularly surprised us as given our good form, we’d fancy our chances against anyone, but Totton have a decent side and are in in the playoff mix for a reason. They now have two of the league’s top scorers as they’ve added Tony Lee to play alongside the prolific Scott Rendell, and you won’t find many better partnerships than that. Lee signing for Totton from Poole was a bit of a surprise, and it means we have to play against him twice having already done so this season against Poole. Tony is as popular as syphilis with Dorch fans but he remains one of the biggest predators in the league with the goal record to match. Well, we assume it’s him. In recent seasons there has been a prolific Tony Lee, Anthony Lee, and a Tony-James Lee, who all seem very handy at this level. I’m sure there’s a reason for this.
Given there was such a short warm up and we’d arrived later than usual, it was straight out to the terrace to see which way we were kicking and how many had come. There were around 50 or so Dorch there, and surprisingly for us, we all seemed to stand together rather than all over the place. One thing was quite apparent in the early stages and that was that another heavy downpour would see the game in doubt. As we got started, we noticed that although there wasn’t anything in the way of surface water, there were a couple of bowling ball like bounces in some spots, and the ball seemed to hold up a bit, particularly in our little corner. Said little corner was pretty loud with the usual volume the Kraynes and others add supplemented by the drummer, and even if I had no idea what the words to some songs were – ‘Dorrrrchesterrrrr’ is about the extent of my hymn sheet – it generates more atmosphere than we’ve been used to in some considerable time.
There wasn’t much between the two sides early on as both looked to get to grips with the conditions and the pitch. A couple of harmless efforts from range were as much as Totton provided, and we built well to get into some good positions before finding no final ball. The first real chance of any substance fell to Totton after around ten minutes as Jameson Horlick had to be at his best to fling out a left arm and save a shot from Leon Maloney after some tidy build up. We’d reply to that with a chance of our own as pressure from a couple of set pieces saw Ollie Haste have his effort blocked following a corner falling kindly to him, and we’d continue to win corners that always seemed to cause trouble with Corby Moore’s delivery being a real problem for the home defence.
We looked the better side so we of course then fell behind in circumstances that would be comical if they were against any other side than your own. JD was fouled about six yards out as he was about to shoot with the covering defender just barreling into the back of him and sending him sprawling, as well as being nowhere near the ball. The ref had a clear view, the linesman had a clear view. It was a nailed on penalty. Everyone appealed for it, fans and players alike. Totton’s own commentary said it was a penalty. And the ref waved play on and the linesman did nothing. A genuinely baffling decision. If it wasn’t a penalty, it had to be simulation and a freekick to Totton with JD getting a yellow. But no, nothing at all. What followed was a break up the other end, and to be fair to him, a very good finish from Tony Lee as he received the ball, made a bit of space, and slammed the ball past Horlick. Hell of a finish, but the ball should have been on the penalty spot at the other end by the time the ball went in. One of the worst calls I’ve seen in a long time, but 17 minutes in, the score was 1-0 to Totton and that’s all that really mattered.
The game seemed to stall a bit from there on in as neither side was really able to string much together. The only incident of note was one Totton fan making an utter twat of himself in front of the away end. I can only assume this bloke had taken umbrage at some of the things being directed at Tony Lee, and decided to walk himself round to the 50 or so Dorch and offer a couple of people out. Now, this may have seemed like a good idea in this mush’s tiny mind at the start, but he faced some big problems. Firstly, not only was he evidently as thick as mince, he looked fucking ridiculous. Coming over in a Totton bench coat, paint stained joggers and a pair of battered Reebok Classics was one thing, but he looked like he’d just come off a sunbed. Not so much browned, think more like a few layers of creosote. It was almost as if he’d taken a bath in some Ronseal quick drying woodstain (it does exactly what it says on the tin). So looking like a combination of the star contractor in an episode of ‘Rogue Traders’ and an extra from ‘Benidorm’, he trots over giving it big licks to anyone that wants it. Step forward the Kraynes as Fin, and then Charlie make enquiries as to what his terms are. What followed was amazingly not the most embarrassing thing of this geezer’s night.
“If you want it, we’ll go in the car park.” Says our sunburnt simpleton.
“Alright, which car park, front or back?” Is the bluff calling reply from Charlie.
And this bloke did nothing except for fuck all and plenty of it. Not a peep in response as he obviously didn’t expect to have his bluff called, and lacked the brain capacity to formulate any response. By the time his braincell kicked into gear, he’d already been told to fuck off by several Dorch fans, and he retreated, proverbial tail between his paint stained joggers, to the corner, with 50 odd people calling him a wanker. What a way to make an impression; but more about him later.
On the pitch and we really weren’t playing badly but neither side could really manufacture a decent chance. Freekicks and corners came and went at both ends before we got hit by a potential killer blow just two minutes before halftime. A cross into our box looked pretty hopeful, but I’m going to assume it held in the wind a bit. Due to this, Horlick seemed in two minds whether to come and claim or stay on his line and in the end he didn’t really do either, with Luke Hallett having no such issues with his decision as he nipped in to head into the net. A great time for them to score, horrible for us to concede. The halftime whistle blew shortly after and 2-0 down felt a bit harsh on us, more so based on the awful penalty call rather than anything we’d created.
We all filed into the bar to use the facilities and pick up a drink – what we didn’t expect was our tanned friend to want to come back in for round two. Once again, he had a lot of mouth and a lot of posturing as he offered out Fin. Not especially wanting them doing anything near my £5 worth of pint, I got in between the two of them, ushering Fin away and asking the cowboy builder why as a grown man he deemed this acceptable behaviour. Or words to that effect. He once again walked off before inexplicably deciding to take his coat off, revealing a t-shirt that can’t have fitted him this side of the millennium given how small it was, throw said jacket on the chair, and pace around whilst staring at the Kraynes.
Ric Flair used to throw his clothes off, talk shit, and then elbow drop his jacket; I thought this fucker was about to go full Nature Boy. And you should never go full Nature Boy. Before he could either remove any other items of clothing or elbow drop one of his Reeboks, the two women from behind the bar saved him any further embarrassment by kicking him out, much to the amusement of the many Dorch in the bar who waved him off as he probably went off to conduct some more of his usual business, like ripping off a pensioner for a patio he’ll never build.
That small part of excitement over and it was off outside for a second half of more wind and drizzle with no cover, but hopefully an on pitch improvement. One attacking sub was made at the interval, Fletch coming on in place of Drew, as we looked to press and get back in the game early. We didn’t really show much early on, if you exclude the dissent that James Wood showed on the bench that earned him a yellow card, and the first real chance of the half fell to Totton who saw Lee denied by Horlick as the former raced through. It was just before the hour mark that the game really sprang to life. Corby Moore was desperately unlucky not to halve the deficit as his effort from just outside the area clipped the angle of bar and post, before Totton were awarded a penalty on the same side we were denied one earlier on. Now, we were up the wrong end to get a great view, but the reactions of the players to Ollie Haste’s tackle were telling in their own way. From the other end, it seemed like Ollie won the ball, an opinion echoed by both Neil Walton and Totton’s own commentary team, and it also looked outside the box. The same clueless linesman who did nothing when JD was bundled over couldn’t have flagged any quicker this time, and the referee pointed to the spot. It is somewhat difficult not to be bitter at this point as aside from the fact it wasn’t a foul or inside the area, it was a nailed on penalty. But Scott Rendell was never really going to be bothered by that as he scored from the spot. 3-0 down and still half an hour to play. Great.
Now, there have been points this season where some fans would have given up and either left early or possibly turned on the players, and I’ve definitely seen Dorch sides who would have ended up conceding at least two more as heads would have totally gone. Well that didn’t happened here at all. And I don’t think a minute had passed before we got ourselves a lifeline. A poor back pass to Tommy Reid in the Totton goal left him and Marcus Daws with the prospect of a 50/50 near the edge of the box, one that Daws duly won with the loose ball sitting up nicely for Olaf to put into an empty net. 3-1, a bit of hope, 30 or so minutes to play, and something to shout about. Game on.
More possession for us and tidy play followed, and Tommy picked up the second staff yellow of the night as we look to set a club record for most ill-tempered bench over a season, but we wouldn’t have to wait long for our second goal as Will Spetch powered home a header from a Moore corner to get us back to within one goal with 66 minutes played. It was a goal that Corby’s excellent delivery had merited; his set pieces had caused trouble all night, and Spetchy was probably due a goal having gone a while without. The noise behind the goal went up a notch, Totton dropped deeper and we pressed on in search of a leveller, with Luke Pardoe coming on in place of Olaf as we looked to exploit the wide areas.
Daws flashed an effort past the post with a stretching Fletch unable to get on the end of it, Pardoe caused havoc down the right side and Ngalo and Moore mopped up anything in the middle of the park as we seemed to have total control of the game. It felt like a matter of time before we got one more big chance, and that came after 75 minutes as the ref went someway to atoning for his earlier errors as we were awarded a penalty. Despite the fact it was almost bang in front of where I was stood, I was following the ball and had no idea what had happened, only hearing the ref’s whistle and seeing him point to the spot. Some near me said it was a stonewall pen, others said that it was never a pen but ref was evening it up after the earlier decisions. Either way it was a penalty, but both the fouled and fouler were down.
Shaq was the man down for us, and he was holding his leg and looking in some discomfort. Miraculously, he seemed to heal when he realised it was a penalty, and a knowing smile to us as he declined getting the physio on for treatment let us know he was okay. When the grounded and in equal pain player for Totton rolled over, we realised it was Tony Lee, who probably would rather have been anywhere else other than there. His face as he protested his innocence, something he’s probably had practice with, was a picture, as the fact he’d given away a penalty dawned on him, and it would be Fletch’s job to take the spot kick once the dust had settled. One thing I did notice was that Spetch had picked up the ball straight away and stood right on the penalty spot, both protecting the spot from being scuffed by the home side as we’ve all seen happen at times, and getting all the lip from the Totton players as he did so as they tried to put him off. Once the Totton players were cleared, Spetch handed the ball to Fletch, penalty spot protected and Spetchy probably being told several times how he was going to miss a spot kick he was never going to take. The wait for it to be taken felt like agony, but Fletch wasn’t fucking around as he went down the middle with the keeper going left, 3-3 and we fucking loved it. Big celebrations behind the goal, players bang up for it, and still 15 or so to play. If there was a side to go on and win it, it was going to be us. That feeling lasted all of four minutes.
80 minutes in and a cross in from the Totton left took a deflection that saw it loop up towards the back post area. Lee’s header back across goal and into the far corner was one of high quality. 4-3 down and it was more than a little deflating behind the goal. This was added to by Totton’s keeper, the aforementioned Tommy Reid, giving it fucking large to us when it went in. He’d copped a fair bit when he tried to plead he’d been fouled when the first one went in, and we thought that maybe it was just emotion getting the better of him as he went big on the celebrations. What we hadn’t realised was that when he was on the deck after Fletch’s penalty, Reid had been leapfrogged by a celebrating Shaq, something he’d not taken too kindly to. Even so, one of the golden rules is never go too big too early as these things have a tendency to bite you in the arse. There was a chomp to follow soon after.
As we chased the game once again, tempers started to fray, with Daws getting a booking for a crunching challenge as he went in for a ball he wasn’t ever really going to win, but another equaliser would come shortly after with 88 minutes on the clock. Another Moore corner, another Spetch header goalwards, and this time it was the leapfrogger in chief himself, Shaq, who nodded the ball in from a few yards out. If the equaliser at 3-3 saw us go mental, this one was even better. Bedlam. Pints and bodies all over the place, JW’s Robbie Fowler was probably under threat at one point, but we were level again. In the aftermath Tommy Reid probably felt a bit of a twat after giving it big licks minutes earlier as he was the subject of multiple enquiries about what the score was and how he was feeling. But 4-4 it was and this time, we’d stay level and be unlucky not to force a winner.
Shaq and Corby Moore had efforts blocked by a Totton defence now having to defend pretty much on their own 18-yard box, and a dangerous Ngalo cross was well gathered by Reid. Totton would clear, we’d pick up the loose ball and an almost identical attack yielded almost identical results as two efforts were blocked by last ditch defending, and when a Ngalo effort found Reid’s gloves. The six minutes of added time were soon up and as the whistle blew, we had to settle for a point, but a very hard earned one, and one that seemed a million miles away when we were 3-0 down. Had it gone another five minutes, we’d have probably scored again, so deep and desperate Totton were. But a point was the least we deserved.
After we’d wished Tommy Reid a pleasant evening, we applauded and thanked the players for their efforts and vice versa as we left with a most unlikely point given how the first hour had gone. Most of the players had gone down the tunnel by the time we eventually left, and as we headed to the car we tried to breakdown what we’d seen. It was a point that only maybe a peak Mark Morris Dorch side would have got from that position, and even then, it would have been a Herculean effort. I’ve seen two 4-4 draws that I can remember, Pompey pissing away a 4-2 lead in injury time to only get a point against Barnsley after a Robert Prosinecki hat-trick had seemingly put the game beyond doubt, and Dorch somehow contrived to snatch a draw from the jaws of victory at Gosport under Jody Rivers, of all people, in the COVID affected season. Long live the River-lution.
To focus on any negative or over analyse the goals we conceded would be to miss the point really. If you can’t enjoy coming from 3-0 and 4-3 down to get a point, this isn’t the sport for you. We looked dangerous every time we went forward, especially in the second half, and looking at the performance levels and the effort on show, I think we’ll be absolutely fine when it comes to staying up. As a squad, this is as strong as I can recall us being at this level, probably better than a couple of the Conference South sides we had. Options off the bench are all good, and it’s a squad that cares. All we’ve wanted for years is a team that cares and doesn’t lose every bastard week. It may have taken a while, but after some good progress last season, it looks like we’re getting there. As I’ve said previously, stay up by any means necessary, give Tommy a summer, and we’ll be some side next season.
If forced to pick a man of the match, I’d probably go with Corby Moore, who I thought had his best game in a Dorch shirt. Him and Ngalo dominated the middle of the park, rarely wasting possession and stifling Totton when they came forward. Corby’s set pieces were problematic all night with two goals coming from them; add into that the shot that struck the frame of the goal, and he gets the nod for my money with very respectable mentions to Shaq and Marcus Daws who I thought both looked very dangerous.
After a bit of a mare with roadworks, we eventually got home around midnight. JW and Pete were dropped off where they needed to go, and El Gen and I headed back off to the barracks where I was treated to a very bright bedspread to rest my weary head. Given the attendance was announced as being 1,130, we’d have expected more traffic around the stadium, it’s almost as if there weren’t that many in the ground and they pad out the attendance with season tickets that have been given out.
I had planned to stay in Dorch for a few days ahead of the weekend’s game but of course, Sholing on Saturday fell victim to the weather. Sod’s law when we had a coach full of fans as well as loads of others making their own way to the ground, but we’ll still hopefully have loud support this coming Saturday against Beaconsfield at home, before the return fixture away the following weekend. I think we’ll be okay, but I’d much rather get clear sooner rather than later. We’ve some big games coming up against sides around us and given how congested it is with various sides having games in hand, there will no doubt be twists and turns yet.
Either way, Up The Fucking Magpies and roll on Saturday. If before then some bloke with sunburn wearing a Totton coat and paint stained joggers offers to sort you a new conservatory at a good price, tell him to get fucked. SV.
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