In a relegation fight you need to have people who are prepared to battle in the trenches on your side, and on Saturday we say this literally and figuratively as the mud-caked players left with a vital three points at Yate, and Columbo fell over in the mud twice in an attempt at an ill-thought-out shortcut to the pub. Hopefully our on-field efforts can match the comeback made by Columbo’s shoes, and although it will still take more than just a brush and a 30 degree wash to get us out of the perilous league position we find ourselves in, Saturday was a bloody good start.
The last few weeks have encapsulated our season pretty well as a poor run of results and performances was ended with a much needed win, only to be followed with another crap result to remind us all that we are in serious trouble. The much needed win in that sequence came in the form of the very entertaining 4-3 win over Havant, the slap in the face by reality was probably the lowest point this side of Covid with the utter embarrassment that was the 4-1 home loss to fellow strugglers Hanwell. That defeat sits comfortably in the medal positions of worst Dorch games I’ve ever seen, and it was bad enough to end the managerial reign of Tommy Killick.
It was a sad end to his tenure, especially after last season which had been the most enjoyable season watching Dorch that I’ve experienced, and many games from that time will live long in the memory. The fact he’s staying on in a director role means that the massive flag with his face on does still serve a purpose and El Generale will have to wait to be able to repurpose the flag as bed sheets.
Tommy’s departure saw Wes Fogden take caretaker charge, and with only one training session before his first game at on Saturday, he had the unenviable task of trying to lift the players and get them ready for a game against a Yate side who had battered Hungerford 6-2 earlier in midweek. The result wasn’t the only battering as Hungerford’s Jordan Rose was sent off after landing a JBL esq clothesline from hell on the home side’s James Ollis, and Yate’s social media team landed a blow that had Hungerford keeper Luke Cairney still tweeting about them five days after the game.
If Yate had done well to get the midweek game on, our trip there on Saturday looked in serious jeopardy from the moment the fulltime whistle blew as their pitch seemed to have precious little time to recover. With a lot of rain and no good weather to speak of, the Yate ground staff had to get the pitch playable for Saturday, and when it was announced the precautionary pitch inspection had been passed at 0930, I had to quickly kit up and leave the house to get the 0944 train from Dorch West that took me all the way to Yate. The platform wasn’t quite as rammed as when we travelled en masse to Frome last season, but there were a good 20 odd Dorch on the train, and a surprising lack of Weymouth fans given they were only playing one stop further down at Gloucester. I assume their countless fans had a football special laid on for them.
I sat with Buik, Mitch and Aiden as we found ourselves a table, and as Buik and Mitch made a start on the lagers, Buik offered to open their bottles with his handy opener, an Arsenal bottle opener that played Brian Moore’s famous “Thomas, it’s up for grabs now” when used. The conversation was as you’d expect with lots said about the Hanwell game, Tommy’s departure from the dugout, Wes’ ascension to caretaker, and the more unusual topic of skiers in the Winter Olympics injecting themselves in the penis to increase the surface area of their suits, and in turn increase their flight in the air. Or as Buik put it, “they’re injecting themselves in the cock to fly further. Something about surface area. It was on the beeb and all.” Skiing isn’t really my thing, and my only ski based activity was watching Lost Prophets at Yeovil ski lodge many years ago. At least listening to their music is slightly more acceptable now that massive bacon won’t be getting the royalties on his HMP spends account.
Buik wasn’t finished with obscure topics for the trip, and as Goddard joined the train at Bristol Parkway with our destination fast approaching, Buik presented him with a bottle of Hardy’s Ale from 1983. The self-titled “Strongest Beer in Britain” that had been in Bu’s cupboard since ’83, was given the ‘it’s up for grabs now’ treatment, and impressively managed to taste worse than it smelt. Not exactly the sort of thing you want to be bolting down in only a few minutes as your train is due to arrive. We soon pulled into Yate, and as the youth headed off both banging the drum and letting off a purple smoke to inform the locals of their arrival, we headed in the direction of the ground and a nearby pub. Or we did eventually after initially taking a wrong turn.
As Bu, Mitch and Aiden headed to the ground to watch the United v Spurs game, TG and I headed to The Fox to meet with JP and Jason. JP has seen a good few Dorch matches over the past few seasons, Jase’s last game came back in 2009 as we lost to Bath over the festive period, and we’ve been friends for over 20 years now. You have to be a good friend to look at Yate vs Dorchester as a decent social outing. After a quick natter and a Thatcher’s Haze to rid my mouth of the foul taste of 1983, we also headed to the ground.
The pitch looked in reasonable nick, all things considered, and the bacon cheeseburger did a good job at finally getting rid of the taste of Buik’s cupboard. The bar was exactly as you’d hope from a non-league ground as it had a good few beers on, several TVs with the football on (Man United vs Spurs or Inter TV, depending on your preference) and felt reassuringly like the Trinity Club. The Bluebell lager brewed very nearby (more on that later) was a nice touch, and the place filled pretty quickly given this seemed to be one of the only games in the region to have gone ahead. Columbo soon joined with his trademark coat as well as a shiny new pair of Reeboks and he soon informed me the team news was in, although he didn’t actually know what it was yet as he was too busy watching the horse racing on his phone. I believe his horse is still running now.
We made three changes from the Hanwell debacle as Hodson, Daws and Parker came in, with Murray, JD and Robinson making way, and it looked like we’d be keeping the same 4-4-2 formation we’d had in recent weeks. As we made our way back over the duckboards from the bar to the terraces, we were joined by my sister and her fucking gargantuan umbrella, and we headed towards the open end we were attacking and made a pretty tidy start. The dual Lukes of Roberts and Pardoe linked up well down the left with the former winning a corner, and the corner was taken short before being worked to Corby on the edge of the box who saw his low effort well saved by the home keeper. Corby not taking the corner was an interesting side note, and after Gez had shovelled away Yate’s first shot of note, it was Harvey Wright’s turn to sting the Yate keeper’s hands with a well struck effort from another corner.
A Daws free-kick was sent just wide, Joe Parker saw an effort saved after some excellent linkup play had sent him through, and although Gez had a momentary wobble, the defence stood up well in the face of some home pressure. At halftime the 0-0 scoreline seemed fair enough, but we couldn’t help but fear we’d maybe missed a good chance to make the most of our chances. After a quick visit to the open end’s bar for a Budvar and a Picnic bar, an underrated chocolate bar if ever there was one, we waded down the far end and hoped we’d find that elusive breakthrough.
Neither side really looked threatening in the early stages with only set pieces seeing the ball go near either goal, but shortly after the hour mark we got the goal we’d been hoping for. A Daws challenge saw the ball break to Hodson, he laid it off to Corby and his ball over the top gave the rapid Parker something to run onto. His first touch with his head was excellent, the second one to lift the ball over the on-rushing keeper was even better, and his Klinsmann celebration topped off the move nicely. 1-0 up and something to hold onto.
The rain fell, Columbo armed himself with a pitchfork should it be required, Rob Hodder felt the draught as he’d split his jeans in the goal celebrations, and the players put everything into holding onto the lead. In truth, we actually didn’t really have any major alarms after the goal, with the best chance probably falling to Daws who could only strike the ball over the bar. The miss mattered not as the ref’s whistle ended proceedings and with it came three valuable points. It was a win we’d thoroughly deserved and unlike a few of our previous victories, this one felt like it really gave us something to build on.
We headed back to the bar, JP had some chips and curry sauce which appeared to be raw chips that were hopefully going to cook in the molten sauce, more Bluebell lager was consumed, and given how close the brewery and taproom were, we decided to head there for a celebratory pint or two. This seemed a good idea, but some Heras fencing panels seemed to block the most direct path. “No worry, we’ll take a shortcut down the side”, says Jason. So off he went with Columbo in his nice new Reeboks behind. And once Columbo went off the duckboards, his feet were fully absorbed by the mud of no-mans-land and he absolutely stacked it, ending up ankle deep in mud and propped up by the fence. If this wasn’t bad enough the shortcut wasn’t even viable, so he had to come back the other way, fell over again, and ended up with a potentially torn hamstring as well as a suspected case of trench foot. Good shoes didn’t save him this time.
As he headed home leaving the sort of foot prints you’d only expect to see in Scooby Doo, JP, Jase and I headed to the taproom for a few more pints of gloat, one of the worst games of round the clock you’ll ever see, and after those I still had ample time to get the last train home and watch Match of the Day. If only all away days this season had followed this sort of pattern – we’ve really not had too much to cheer about since the start of last summer.
Although the win was worth the same amount of points as the Havant victory a fortnight ago, this one felt a lot better and had a lot more that you feel we can build upon. Every player performed well, with special mentions going to Harvey, Hodson and Parker. Gez especially will benefit from a clean sheet, but it will give the whole side a lift moving forward, and the pairing of Wright & Williams, Hodson & Moore, and Crosbie & Parker all showed a lot of promise. Hodson in the middle rarely wasted possession and his industry seemed to free up Corby a bit more than in recent weeks, Wright won nearly every header with Williams looking a very capable player alongside him, and the wide players worked hard at both ends of the pitch. Joe Parker got the goal his performances have merited recently, and Jadyn Crosbie put in a serious physical shift as they ensured Yate never looked fully comfortable at the back. It was an excellent all-around performance and hopefully we can back it up against Evesham on Saturday.
Who is in the dugout in the coming weeks and who takes charge will be very interesting. Based on that 90 minutes, I’d say it was Wes’ to take on for the foreseeable should he want it, but I’m sure there will be plenty of interest from elsewhere. We looked a totally different side from the previous week’s debacle, more organised and with a very clear idea of how we wanted to play, and hopefully his next few training sessions can build on that. Who he gets help from in the meantime will also be interesting as it was Spetch and Brian Churchill in the dugout at Yate (although Columbo did mistake Spetch for Tommy in an afternoon where he put his foot in it more than once). We know Wes has connections in the South from his playing career and he’ll probably want some seniority alongside him. Be it from the South or North, he’ll likely want/need some more help.
Hopefully Saturday wasn’t the fake sound of progress and we’ll have something to shout about from the rooftops soon, and if it is to be some trench warfare to get us out of trouble, hopefully we bring an arsenal to fight our way out of it, and I hope for his sake that Columbo brings some suitable fucking footwear for the next battle. SV.
