The phrase that football is a ‘funny old game’ doesn’t really ring true at the moment as I’ve had next to fuck all to laugh at watching Dorch this season. From pre-season optimism to a poor start, false dawns involving a step forward to be immediately followed by two steps back, to the somewhat crushing realisation that we aren’t in a false position and that we really do need to shape up and fast to not be involved in the sort of relegation battle that we’d hoped and thought we’d left behind.
But, after some woeful performances and results against both Poole and Wimborne, we’ve managed to put together the smallest of ‘runs’ as we’ve managed to beat Basingstoke twice. Firstly in the league with a late Joe Parker winner, and then secondly on penalties at the leisure centre they play at in the FA Trophy. The Trophy game was won at the second time of asking after a terrible injury to Wes Fogden saw the first game abandoned. We wish Wes a full and speedy recovery, and well done to the players for going back and getting the job done so soon after.
We’ve still got to go back to bloody Basingstoke again this season and it is a serious contender for worst ground in the league, although Tatnam probably retains gold medal spot there. Basingstoke’s pitch comes with more lines than David Coote’s coffee table, and if you’ve ever wondered what it’s like having a beer in a prison exercise yard, then their patio is the place for you.
As we’re on the topic of crap grounds that brings me neatly onto Saturday’s main event that was Bracknell away. With there being no team coach for a few of us to jump on but enough keen to go, it was back to the old school way of renting a minibus. With the Sunninghill Shuttle no longer available to us, it was left to Pete to source our chariot, with Buik reprising his role as Wurzel at the wheel. Spoons was the designated meeting place and I arrived just after ten to find Mitch, Adien and Pete already in situ, the latter looking like he needed a shovel more than a knife and fork to finish off his large breakfast. I should have followed his lead as my choice of a small breakfast – a rookie error mistaking this for the traditional one – was barely enough to last three mouthfuls with the latte that accompanied it doing more of a job of supressing my appetite than the food.
As the rest of the cast assembled we made our way to the battle bus. We had left plenty of time to get to Bracknell with only a couple of pickups. Ash White was collected from Puddletown, and what would appear to have been the reanimated corpse of Joe Prior joined us at Ferndown having been to a Halloween party the night before, I assume as a zombie. After a quick stop at Rownhams and as Prior tried to catch up on lost sleep we hit a bit of traffic that knocked our ETA back a bit, which was not the best news for the other JP who was joining us as he’d taken the option of the 1230 arrival into Sandhurst and was now watching the youth game at the ground with a pint and a lot of bemused parents.
The traffic had caused a slight problem and it had created another one as Welchy’s bladder was approaching bursting point. A quick look at Google Maps showed we were only ten minutes away. Problem solved. That was until Buik didn’t come off the motorway and the ETA was back up to half an hour.
“Bu, which route are you taking?”
“Well I dunno.”
Well, that sorted that. With the need for a layby now very apparent, one was found that had a surface like the old grass pitch at the Avenue in October, that is to say like the fucking Somme. Still, worse things have happened on our minibuses in the past. It’ll be a while before a future first team player is sick out of a window on an away trip again. Those were/really weren’t the days.
Bladders emptied and potential cases of trench foot avoided, it was back on the road and we were able to park at the ground as the Bracknell version of Nibbler probably thought we were the team minibus and let us in. We eventually made it into the ground at just after two with JP now about five pints deep having watched pretty much two whole games of football already. As we got ourselves a drink in it was time to actually have a look at the side for the game we had come to watch, and we had made three changes from the Trophy game at Basingstoke in the week.
With Spetch missing out through what we assume was injury it was Corby Moore who wore the armband, with there also being starts for Crosbie, Wooding, and the welcome sight of Joe Parker in the starting eleven. Dawsy returned to the bench which only had four subs on it, but as we headed down to the far end we hoped to see a bright start.
And a bright start we saw, but sadly it was for the home side. Any rust that Gez might have had was quickly shaken off as the home side certainly didn’t play like a side bottom of the league. A brilliant save away to his right after only ten minutes was the highlight, but he was kept busy as Bracknell moved the ball well and created a few decent opportunities. On the flip side of that, we were struggling to put anything of note together and as we played our weekly game of ‘who is playing where’ the weather started to worsen and the rain started to fall, sending a number of us looking for shelter.
Shelter can now be found at the bottom end of the ground in a stand that looks like it has come straight off a cargo ferry, and a marquee that looks like something from a Cold War Steve piece. The marquee is a fascinating place offering table football, some seating, and a selection of drink, that much to the annoyance of Bargey, did not include lager. Not wishing to die of thirst he made the best of a bad situation and elected for the only other rational choice of a half pint of rosé. If his choice of drink was unexpected, what came next on the pitch was even more of a surprise as from pretty much nothing, we took the lead.
A clearing header from Harvey Wright seemed to cause the home defence no real worries, but Crosbie was alert to nick the ball off an unsuspecting defender and find Wayne, who in turn found Pards, and he duly found the bottom corner. It was a very good finish and although it had come against the run of play, we’d dug in, seen off the early pressure and made our opportunity count. With a shade over five minutes of the half to play we could have actually added a couple more as Pards saw another effort from a similar position well saved with Crosbie’s follow up being blocked, before Parker fired over after a sharp turn created a shooting opportunity, and finally Parker again saw a goal bound effort well blocked as we finished the half on top. First 45 done, 1-0 up and the pressure was all back on Bracknell to make something happen. What we needed to do was to keep things tight, frustrate them, wait for the inevitable gaps to appear and most importantly, don’t do anything stupid.
And for six minutes we carried that plan out well enough before once again the safety was removed, the pistol pointed at our own toes, and shots were fired into our own feet. The first bullet was only five or so minutes after halftime and was avoidable, at best. After a strong challenge from Wooding on Bracknell’s Max Herbert, there was a slight tussle between the two as they got up. As the ball broke loose seconds later an obviously irritated Wooding went in hard and with some studs showing getting a bit of the ball, a lot of the man, and a red card. It is the sort of challenge that a few years ago might not have been a foul, let alone a yellow. But now words and phrases such as excessive force, reckless, out of control, and dangerous will be the ones used to summarise it. So, having been in a position of 11 vs 11 and Bracknell needing to make something happen, we’d given them a man advantage. But we didn’t stop there.
An ill-timed and pretty unnecessary challenge from Hastey in the box gave the ref no other option than to give a penalty – one that was converted, although only just, to level the scores at 1-1. There were still 20 or so minutes to play here, and despite the introduction of some fresh legs in the form of Daws, Underhill and Buse, our backline inevitably retreated like Floydy’s hairline as we sought to keep it at 1-1. Sadly, we failed, as with a little under ten minutes to play the pressure finally told as an excellent finish made it 2-1 to the hosts with Gez only able to watch as the ball nestled into the far corner.
Cam Murray came on for Wayne as we desperately tried to make something happen, but we didn’t look in any danger of stringing a couple of passes together, let alone scoring as Bracknell seemed comfortable. As we started the eight minutes of injury time, their keeper indulged in the timewasting that seems very in fashion at the moment as he must have spent a good couple of minutes on the floor with cramp. Given how little he’d had to do in the previous 45 minutes this was a bit of a piss take and one that had both the desired effects of winding down the clock and pissing us off, and there were a lot of glum, damp Dorch fans just waiting for the final whistle to keep us firmly entrenched in the mire and kick-start the Bracknell season. But, if we’ve had two late sickeners this season already against Walton and Plymouth, they have evened themselves out slightly as we once again found a late goal to rescue a result.
There seemed to be little trouble for the home side when the ball was headed towards the edge of the box, but rather than clear it the two defenders got in each other’s way, allowing Murray to find Underhill who despite our numerical disadvantage had been given the freedom of Bracknell and/or Sandhurst to roll the ball past the stationary keeper. Maybe he did have cramp after all. Beer and damp Dorchies were scattered all over in the celebrations as Underhill was mobbed by all who could get near enough, and any loan player who immediately runs to the fans to celebrate is alright by me. It was a very calm finish and one I’ve no doubt would have been easy to snatch at. How he was left with so much space is beyond me, but I don’t especially care either. 2-2 and we’d gained a point we had no real right to. We even finished the game on top as a corner came to nothing, and as the final whistle went, it was definitely a better point for us than our hosts, that’s for sure.
After applauding the players off and having a quick pint of gloat, it was off back to the battle bus and mercifully the journey back to Dorch was very uneventful, although Bargey was last seen leaving Bracknell dressed as a skeleton as he headed off to Bournemouth for a night that left him looking like a corpse the following morning.
If we’d have been offered a point pre-game, a lot wouldn’t have been happy with that. In the, albeit self-inflicted, circumstance we found ourselves in, it has to be seen as a point gained. There are a lot of issues with the side at the moment. Tactically we look a mess with a variety of square pegs in round holes at various times, and although some players are definitely underperforming, others seem lost in the shuffle of whatever system it is we’re trying to play. Injures and suspension haven’t helped and with Wes out for the foreseeable and Wooding suspended for what I think is four games, we’re even shorter in an area of the pitch that was already still drastically suffering from the departure of Jordan Ngalo.
I said in a previous blog that the losses of Jordan and Glenn Howes were the two key ones we didn’t replace and I’ve seen nothing to change that particular opinion given results and performance. I really hope we get to see more of Joe Parker and Tom Smith as I thought they linked up very well against Bideford and both have quality with the track records to prove it. But, opportunity and game time have been somewhat limited for both since in either a lack of starts or getting subbed after an hour, hopefully that’ll change. A penny for the thoughts of Harry Hutch and Ieuan Turner, both on loan as we struggle to stop conceding goals. I’m sure their time will come again.
But, that said, we didn’t give up on Saturday and were rewarded with a goal and a point, and having seen many Dorch sides over the years give up with eleven men on the pitch, let alone ten, you can’t accuse this side of not caring and not trying. Effort is of course a bare minimum, and this result will mean absolutely sod all should we lose at home to Chertsey on Saturday, but as long as the effort is there, we know the quality is, it’s just getting the balance right and putting a string of results together, not the one step forward and two back approach we’ve seen so far. I do have faith we can get things right, even though Dorch do love to test it.
The only saving grace of the season is the league is so tight that a good run can see you move up the table quickly, and a win on Saturday would see us level on points with our 12th placed opponents. Hopefully we can get those three points and treat Dover as a one to enjoy, or at least as much as you can enjoy a trip to fucking Kent. SV
