I wasn’t planning of coming back to the UK for Easter, but sometimes a few things align that takes all decision making out of your control. This is what vegans, yogi’s and our very own Tom Goddard would call “the universe sending you a message.”
In this instance, it was much simpler. Dorch are good again and word was spreading that everyone was eyeing up Winchester away as a big away day. This feeling of FOMO was confirmed when a certain Dan Floyd was added to the WhatsApp group after the Didcot game, following a ten year hiatus in which he seemly got lost in the beige-ness that is living in Berkshire. Or Oxfordshire. Either or.
Dan grew up on the terraces of the Avenue and is one of the few to have lived out his boyhood dreams of playing for the first team, when a goalkeeping crisis saw him called up to face Tonbridge and Bromley in the Conference South. Still being a fan at heart, a teenager, and a great wind-up merchant, Floydy was still active on the message boards and when he posted something on the Weymouth forum after a night out, he was hauled into the managers office, shouted at by none other than Ashley Vickers and was not seen again for a decade until Didcot away recaught his attention – as it so should. Having refound his love for non-league football, he announced that Winch away coincided with his birthday. And so it was done. I drunkenly booked flights to the UK and checked in with the mother to ensure I’d have a bed back home in Dorset for the weekend:
Me: I am thinking of coming home for Easter given it’s grandad’s birthday. Will you be home?
Mum: That sounds lovely. Who are Dorch playing and which days will we actually see you?
There are very few – if any – Wessex League clubs you look at whilst they are riding a crest of a wave and think “yeah, go on. That’d be good!’ but Winchester are probably unique in that regard in that it’s a great city with equal measure of culture and drinking establishments. Add in the fact it’s really easy to get to (more on that to come) and it’s long been one of those games we’ve been eyeing up as a decent weekender. The fact it fell on Easter weekend made it even sweeter.
So as I left Amsterdam airport at 9am, with Dorch on a one-defeat-in-14 run, I was stupidly full of excitement and anticipation. This would of course dissipate upon arriving into the UK. Having landed at 1030 local time, a mixture of the multi-billion-pound crossrail only running every 35 minutes (Moreton and Wool get a better service than that!) Delays that saw me stranded at both Hayes and Slough (of all fucking places) and it took me 3 hours to go the 30 miles from Heathrow to Reading. Thatchers Britain, eh!
All the talk on the group of late is how the club feels totally different to anything we can remember. The team are working incredibly hard for one another, the yoof behind the goal are creating a great atmosphere, everyone is responding to that and all the scepticism and negativity of the last decade has evaporated to be replaced by a real sense of belief that we’re finally on the up and that “Dorch are back.”
This was confirmed to me arriving into Winchester just after 2pm, walking into the wrong pub, but it still being full of Dorch fans. As I walked around the corner to The Exchange, I could hear our lot singing inside. This doesn’t happen with Dorch. Or at least, it hasn’t for a decade or so! Perhaps we really are back?
This was confirmed 20 minutes later. Coming through the turnstiles at the same moment as the teams lined up in the make shift “tunnel” it was clear that half of the day’s crowd were Dorch. And we were largely, really quite drunk.
The teams entered the “pitch” (We’ll be polite and call it one) to a cacophony of Dorch chants and it was quite clear from their stewards reactions that they hadn’t anticipated this much of an away following. Nor had I, if truth be told.
The game started with Dorch having much of the possession and pressure. In a challenge for a loose ball with the home defence, Corby Moore, ducking down minimally at best, was caught with a high boot to the head. For reasons unbeknownst to all, despite being no where near the ball, the ref considered this only a yellow card as one of our most influential players of late had to be taken off.
As the game settled down we begun to take a bit of a foothold and create plenty of half chances. The game was scrappy but Jordan and the newly introduced Drew Eccott-Young were controlling midfield and picking up all the scraps. As we slowly began to ramp up the pressure, we deservedly took the lead just shy of the half hour mark. Fletcher spun and turned Jordan Rose (who took “Weymouth reject” chants very well it has to be said) before pounding a shot at Luke Cairney, who could only spill in into the tracks of Shaq. Shaq, feinted to put Griggs on his arse before slamming home from the tightest of angles to send the 200+ Dorch fans into raptures, in only the way a goal after drinking since 9am goal can do! Bedlum! It remained 1-0 for the rest of the very uneventful half and as we retreated towards the bar, we weren’t exactly welcomed by the home club who didn’t seem to know how to deal with a crowd.
As with many clubs who have had a rapid rise up from county football to the higher echelons of non-league, Winchester are another of those clubs who’s fans appear to not have caught up yet. When Ollie Griggs, Kieran Douglas and Olly Balmer had the gall to sign for us when Glenn took over, they were outraged. Unfortunately, those signings didn’t work out for various reason and whilst Kieran is now plying his trade for Bognor, the two Olly/Ollies returned to Winchester and were in the line up for the game and took the normal levels of flack you’d expect from two players who never really made much of an impact with us. Griggs’ work ethic was never in question when he was with us, but he lacked some of the quality you need to push on in this league. When people are talking about your old man rather than you, it’s probably not for you. Balmer meanwhile was quite the opposite in that he had all the quality but lacked the work ethic and was ultimately given the boot (quite ironic, given that he owed boots!)
If we’d hoped for a second half like the first, we’d be sorely disappointed as Winchester had no interest in rolling over. They grew more in the second half, as Craig Davis must have laid into them at half time. They came out a different team – a team intent on stopping up playing, frustrating the game at every opportunity, and seemingly, realising before we did that the ref was weak, getting into his face at every single opportunity. The contrast was stark.
Two minutes in and Shaq was booked for an innocuous, marginally late tackle. One of those where the defender follows through to kick the leg of the oncoming attacker. Down he goes, screaming, all of their players surrounding the ref. A minute later, Olaf was taken down as he attempts to skip past their full back. Again, their players surround the referee as he brandishes the most warranted of yellow cards.
And so it came as no surprise when the game quickly boiled over, the ref having lost control. Griggs and Spetch came together at the edge of our box and as most eyes followed the ball, the pair had a little tussle on the edge of the box. Nothing more than a bit of grappling. To the surprise of no-one, the Winchester players piled in and the usual pushing and shoving commenced. A red card, by this point, unsurprisingly, was brandished, and we faced 40 minutes of down to ten men. Salt was rubbed into that particular wound as Balmer managed to do something he’d not done for us and score, his goal coming from the resulting free kick. It was a cracker of a free kick to be fair.
But this is a different Dorch team. This is a team built in Tommy Killick’s image. This is a team that has the right mentality, and my god does it show. (Sorry, went a bit Peter Jury, there!)
Although we slipped into a deeper, 4-4-1 and looked to hit them on the counter, we did so with confidence. Whilst they had plenty of possession and pumped balls into the box with the subsequent half chances you’d expect, I never really had the sense we were in huge danger. There’s a maturity in how we play now, and we kept the ball when needed, slowed the game down when we needed to and generally looked quite assured. No doubt about it, Winchester were on top and created the better chances, but they were half chances and we never really looked truly rattled.
As the clock drew nearer to 90, our fans – nervous as you’d expect – begun to believe we’d get something out of this and grew louder. Each throw in, corner and tackle was cheered and the very sketchy and very temporary crowd barriers (if they can be called that) began to edge forwards with each cheer.
As the full time whistle blew, it was the surprise to nobody that the fences fell over, and it was to much cheer, celebration and frankly, bemusement that 30-50 of our yoof picked themselves up from the turf and then walked forward to congratulate the players on a hard earned point. You’d think from the outrage on social media following the game, that these scenes were similar to those seen in Istanbul a few weeks earlier. As a few of the yoof walked onto the pitch, shook hands with our players, took selfies in the goal and waved the odd corned flag, the rest of us looked on in bemusement and in a state of hilarity of what we were witnessing. But mainly just thankful that Dorch are good again and we can see something special growing.
As we headed into the clubhouse the singing continued, and at one point you thought it might spill over as their director, Stuart Munro, took umbrage at an away following putting more than a few grand behind their bar and appeared to be looking for trouble. You can take the man out of Havant….
Another man who took offence at something we’re not quite sure about it Mr Griggs Senior, who was spotted shouting into Tommy’s car window for reason’s no-one is quite sure about. Turns out that Ollie’s best performance as a holding midfielder, is holding his own father back from further embarrassment.
As we headed back towards the station via a couple of pubs (very good ones it has to be said) the excitement for this team was palpable.
My last games were Chesham and Poole over Christmas time. (Poole back then were of course a Southern Premier League team.) Despite the two defeats, I saw enough in us then to suggest we’d get out of our position. And when, a couple of games later, following the Hanwell draw, I made the prediction that we’d finish comfortably mid table and above Poole in the league. This was met with wide-spread derision, as you’d expect from such a ludicrous claim. Comical Ali memes included. But it’s one I felt confident in – albeit, I wasn’t expecting quite a dramatic turn in fortunes.
I say this, as it was in the last Winchester pub that I made my next prediction, as I BetFred that we’d win the league next season. I stand by it – and fuck, you’ll get some odds on that!
If we can keep this team together next season, we’ll be up there next season without a shadow of doubt. Ignoring the obvious quality we have across the pitch, I don’t think I have seen a Dorch team as united, as mentally resilient and together with supporters as this team. I certainly haven’t seen a Dorch fan base this positive and united, well, ever.
There was one way to test that theory, with a potential banana skin game against relegation battling Tiverton on Easter Monday. Tivvy recently appointed Leigh Robinson as manager. Leigh was of course manager here at the Avenue pre-Glenn and if it wasn’t for covid, probably would have been the manager who’d finally take us down after year’s upon years after just keeping our head above water. Thank god for covid though, eh! (Miss you Grandad!)
It was called early when we heard Iain Parsons was going to be reffing this one, and that the game would be ruined by a ref who likes to make it all about him. What we weren’t expecting was for this to happen in just the 5th minute!
As Jack Dickson and a Tivvy winger both went shoulder-to-shoulder as they saw out a loose ball for a throw in, the Tivvy winger went down theatrically holding his face. There might have been a lose flailing arm as they bounced off one another, but half hearted appeals from Tivvy illustrated that they knew it was innocuous at best. Mr Parson had other ideas and swiftly sent JD for an early shower (and 45 minutes behind the goal with us fans in the second half).
Nevertheless, down to 10, we continued to play with intent. Tivvy, to their shame, continued to stand off us and never looked to take the initiative. Perhaps it’s a sign of the attacking quality with have in Pardoe, Daws, Olaf, Shaq and Fletch, but they seemed to be overly preoccupied with what we could do to them on the counter, rather than taking the game to us.
Jordan and Olaf were picking up plenty of loose balls in attacking positions and it didn’t come as a surprise when we won a penalty. Olaf played in Shaq, who skipped past one and as the second Tivvy defender slid in, missed the ball and caught Shaq’s standing leg, it was a blatant penalty shout that even Parsons’ couldnt miss. Olaf didn’t fuck about and absolutely-fucking-wellied it home.
Second half, Tivvy as you’d expect them to, came out with more attacking intent. The impressive Alex Fletcher (How good to see him playing football once again after his horror injury) added zest to their play, but whilst they had more of the ball, you never felt they were really troubling us. I guess the pressure did ultimately pay though, as two poor clearances gave the men in horrible-Purple shirts (it has to be said) possession high up the pitch and a couple of swift passes later, they equalised.
Cue the response. As the fifteen or so Tivvy fans celebrated (frankly you deserve to be relegated if that’s all you can bring to one of your nearest games during a relagation battle!) the Dorch fans behind the goal immediately got behind the team and upped the volume. It was a beautiful moment that suggested that everyone knew we could turn it around, even if we did have just 10 men.
The team, duly, responded. As we attacked, the game became the quintessential end-to-end game you’d expect in such a situation. Tivvy had a very creditable shout for a penalty turned down (perhaps he went down too easily, but we were all heart in mouths awaiting a whistle) before a long punt down the touchline saw Fletch press hard and force the centre back into a wayward pass across goal. Pardoe gladly picked it up and played in a perfect pass for the laterally running Fletch to pick up, turn inside of Jones and be taken out for the most obvious of penalties. Cue celebrations. Shaq and Olaf (now both substituted after epic shifts) jumped along the touchline like giggly schoolgirls! Behind the goal went mad, as the wisest amongst us knew to put phones, wallets, glasses safely into our pockets, knowing what was about to erupt. And did it!
Fletch calmed himself, took hold of the ball as if to make a point that he should be starting, and cooly placed it into the left corner, as everyone erupted with joy. But more pride.
Pride in this team.
Pride in their attitude and their fight, but mores in how they seem to be enjoying their football and enjoy playing for one-another – and for us. There is a bond that I have never, in my 25 years of supporting Dorch, seen before. Bookmark this page. Next season, we’ll be up there. Something really special is brewing and I’m here for it.
(Well, I’m not, I’m in Amsterdam. But that might have to change. FOMO is a powerful thing.) CM aka Nostra-Damers.
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