The mark of a good side is picking up points when you’re not at your best, and that’s exactly what we did on Wednesday with a 2-2 draw at Gosport. After a nightmare start and being 2-0 down inside 15 minutes, a point was the least we deserved, and we’re now fourth going into a big game against table toppers Merthyr on Saturday. We didn’t do things at Gosport the easy way, and there were a lot of twists and turns, but if Luke will insist on being the navigator for the battle bus, this shouldn’t come as a shock.
After three blog debutants breathed new life into The Same Old Few in recent weeks with different perspectives, it’s back to my tried, tested, and somewhat predictable blog style for the Gosport review. Not quite Paul Scholes coming out of retirement for Man United, think more Nathan coming back for his sixth/seventh spells with us. After what was a good point at Bracknell in the end on Saturday, in what felt like a good game between two decent sides, the Buik Tours minibus was quick to fill for Wednesday night’s trip to the blue half of Hampshire. Standard operating procedures were followed as a half 5 departure was agreed from Copper Street, and the battle bus arrived right on time, the Wurzel Jack Grealish at the wheel.
Buik had made his first foray into the world of writing last Saturday as he went old school journo style with a notepad and pen to Bracknell. His blog has received high acclaim, with it being described as the best literary work to come out of Dorchester since Thomas Hardy wrote Tess of the d’Urbervilles, but he was back in his preferred role as bus driver for Gosport, and his co-pilot was Luke by virtue of the fact he called shotgun. Poor Adam and his 7’3 frame were left crumpled behind Buik as he was drinking a pint when Lunc sprung into action and called his shot.
There was a good crew on the bus with Guyer, Drew and Adam bringing the experience and drinking nous, seasoned DTFC minibus veterans of Pete, Wardy and Ash Jury, Jimmer and Mitch were there with their boys Issac and Aiden, and the rear of the bus was taken up by Chris Clarke, Kath and Craner, a much easier trio on the bus’ axels than the Legion of Doom that was Ash, TC and Brendan for the Sholing trip. Issac and Aiden had coincidentally both celebrated their 11th birthdays in the week, making both eligible for free entry to the ground. This was Aiden’s third 11th birthday this month. Craner informed us that Fin was still absent with STI related issues.
With darts on the telly again at the moment and the PDC World Championship starting next month – something I consider to be the true meaning of Christmas – Wardy held court about a few of his darting memories, from him beating future world champion, Gerwyn Price 6-0, players being almost blind drunk and averaging over 100, why Butlins is the best and indeed worst place to have a major tournament, and some quite incredible appetites. One former darts pro, Andy Smith, who is brilliantly nicknamed ‘The Pie Man’, was once asked to leave a so-called ‘all you can eat’ Chinese buffet as the kitchen couldn’t keep up. When asked to leave he simply said; “but I’ve not had my pudding yet.” Wardy’s blog from Totton was very popular by our standards with well over 300 views. Turns out Wardy has over 1,000 friends on Facebook, many from his darting heyday, so I like to think that Luke Humpries caught up on all things DTFC after getting knocked out of the Grand Slam.
On the subject of darts, Damon Heta lookalike and local barista-in-chief, Ash Jury, has enjoyed coming to a few more games recently and seeing some old faces. At one of the games this season he got chatting to one of the other Ward brothers in Robbie, and they had a good natter and put the world to rights. Ash told us Robbie was so pleased to see him, he even offered Ash a kidney of his, given Jury’s health issues. It is for the best that Ash hasn’t taken Rob up on his very kind offer. There was also flag talk as we spoke of how we have actually started hanging up the ones we have again, including the Born to Moan one which once spent five years in the loft at the Vic until the landlord asked Guyer if he knew who it belonged to. We think it got left there after we got annihilated by Bristol Rovers in the FA Cup years back, the flag is enjoying a new lease of life after being in the attic for five years and once spending a night in a bin at Arleyey after Cam forgot it. Guyer knows a thing or two about flags having many decades earlier got the Union Jack flag that made it onto the pitch when we won the league in the 1986/87 season. He wouldn’t reveal where it came from, but there might have been a local Church missing a flag around that time. The picture of that flag and of many more adorn a new display in the bar which fans will be able to see for the first time on Saturday. It is absolutely brilliant, credit to Richard Bayley for his work in putting it together.
The journey itself had been pretty straightforward with the only small issues being Craner and Clarkey have gerbil sized bladders, and Luke’s navigational skills seeing Buik nearly take a turn to Dorset Police HQ at Winfrith rather than towards the motorway. We seemed to be making good time and were assured that we were ten minutes away so Craner and Clarkey wouldn’t need another layby stop, then we appeared to fall into a black hole. 10 minutes became five, that then became 10, then 12, then 20, then the back seats nearly became wet. It was like the “five minutes, Turkish” sausages sene in Snatch. As Guyer readily told an increasingly irate Luke, we’d come off a junction early. A quick layby stop, recalibration of where we were, and avoiding the floodlights that would have taken us to a nearby supermarket, we got back on track and were soon pulling up at Privett Park.
My Blue Light Card got me entry for £9 – Craner loudly asking if he could borrow anyone’s student ID card before saying he’d left his student ID at home got him entry for full price. I acquired myself a beer at the nearly empty outside bar while everyone else queued for ages for one inside, and had a look at how we’d line up. There were three changes from Saturday as Matt Buse, Dawsy and Hastey all started, Ieuan Turner dropped to the bench and neither Kyran Samadi or Wes Fogden were in the squad. There was also the welcome sight of Lewis Toms on the bench as we named only four subs. There was again good numbers of Dorch fans, which is really the norm now but still takes some getting used to, and I had a chat with a few of the usual faces as I grabbed something to eat. My cheeseburger and chips was very nice – one poor lad from Gosport failed to adequately check the salt shaker though and ended up with a portion of salt with some chips on top. The teams came out, no change of ends so we trundled to the top end by the bar and the yellow double-decker bus to take up residence there.
Gosport is one of those grounds where, given that the bar is behind the goal, you expect some fans to stay there. However, it will still always irrationally annoy me though as changing ends is one of the simple joys of non-league. The Gosport youth element with their usual array of Stone Island stayed there with the sole aim seemingly being to antagonise Josh – one young home fan with a white coat that looked like the offspring of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man and the haircut of a monk went to great lengths to make sure he stuck out. Our surrounds provided far more entertainment than the game itself as we were a goal down inside five minutes, and two down inside 15.
First, former Magpie Alfie Stanley found the bottom corner with a very good finish to give Gosport the lead. Danny Hollands would double that lead a few minutes later and we’d given ourselves a small mountain to climb with a long way to go. Hollands and Wes Fogden were the first choice midfield for Pompey ten years ago, there is something pleasing about that but it makes me feel fucking old seeing them still playing a decade on. Not that I was feeling anything other than cold and pissed off given the temperature and the score.
From there the game settled into a pattern of us passing the ball very nicely from side to side, being very patient, but ultimately not quite being able to fashion a decent chance. Shots went over, crosses came to nothing and attacks broke down, and it wasn’t until the 35th minute that we really threatened. Olaf worked a little opening and his low shot was repelled by the outstretched left boot of Gosport keeper, Adam Parkes, the rebound falling to Buse who controlled and hit a shot that forced an even better save from Parkes as his parry kept out Buse’s shot from the angle. Parkes was called into action again as he had to be alert to backtrack and tip over a goal-bound chip from the boot of Will Spetch, and yes, you did read that right. Jimmer and I thought that Spetchy was playing up front at this point, turns out he might have just been slow in getting back after a set piece, and he was still up there when we won the ball back.
We were having all the possession and just as first half stoppage time was upon us, we got the goal our efforts had probably deserved. Pardoe carried the ball forward, Buse took possession of it on the edge of the box, and his deflected effort left Parkes wrong-footed as the ball nestled in the back of the net. 2-1, game on, and quite possibly two halftime team talks being hastily changed. The half ended soon after and 2-1 was probably a fair scoreline at that time, Gosport reminding me a lot of some previous Dorch sides of the last ten years who get a lead of one or two goals and seem so shocked that they don’t know what to do with it, or how to defend it. We were certainly hoping they had the poppadom esq breaking strain of a few of those sides we saw in the bad old days.
Another beer acquired from the bafflingly still barely used outside bar and we headed down the far end to hang the flags and hopefully see us get a result. The flags did look fucking good when up with Bargey and I not making a mess out of it, experienced flag putter-upper Jury excelling, and it was a cracking effort in more ways than one as I really need to make sure I tuck my shirt in. Our decent numbers of somewhere in the region of 50+ were much more apparent at this end, I could see us taking even more should we ever play Gosport on a Saturday again.
The second half started as the first ended with us having all of the ball and Gosport defending quite deep – this isn’t a pattern that would be broken for much of the remainder of the game. Luke Roberts came on for Buse in an effort to change things up, Gosport made changes to try and sure up their defence, but there were still no real chances. One thing that did happen was some solid handbags after Spetchy had a disagreement with a Gosport players shin which looked fucking awful from our end, but we were a long way away, so we’ll assume he won the ball cleanly, Spetch going up front not long after as we looked for the elusive equaliser.
As we went into the final ten minutes, it began to feel like it wouldn’t happen, but we are a much more resilient side now and we got the goal our efforts merited with about five minutes to go. An excellent ball from Ngalo to Pardoe down the left saw him play a first time ball from near the byline across the face of goal, leaving Spetchy with the simplest of tap ins from six yards for his first of the season. There were at least two Royal Rumble eliminations in the celebrations, I didn’t even notice who I think was Olaf jump into the fans right next to me, and we still had time for a winner after what was Spetch’s first goal for us with anything other than his head.
Despite both teams having a corner or two and there being plenty of effort, we couldn’t get a winner, but a point moves us up to fourth ahead of the Welsh invasion on Saturday, and we’re in and around where we want to be. It was one of those scenarios where if I was offered a point before the game, I’d have said no. But getting a draw in the way we did sure makes it feel like one gained, and the old adage of win at home and draw away seems pretty apt. Good job the lights stayed on this week and Floydy’s plan B didn’t work. Point gained, bottle of water and a Twix purchased for the journey home, and we were off.
Thankfully Guyer took the lead on directions home as although my new job doesn’t start until January 2nd, I’d still like to be back home before then, and we were able to navigate the road closures and diversions successfully without even a thought of popping into Police HQ. With Craner and Clarkey well oiled by this point, this meant two things; number one, piss stops. And number two, a lot of talking. Craner’s admiration for Pete was laid bare with the words; “I grew up idolising you. You had three dogs and watched Dorch. What a life.” Not sure how Pete felt about being called “the Danny Dyer of Dorch”, but Craner did manage to get a full volume rendition of ‘everywhere we go’ which saw us through about three junctions and saw off what remained of Pete’s lungs. There were a minimum of two piss stops, Craner taking roadside safety to new levels as he went for a piss whilst wearing a hardhat, and he and Clarkey regailed us with songs about how Ash Jury hates Starbucks and has more kids than Brad Pitt which saw us from Bere Regis all the way back to Copper Street. The battle bus was returned to its home, I returned to mine soon after, trying and failing to get the lyrics; “he looks good, he looks fine, Ashley Jury’s on my mind and he’s Costa’s number 9” out of my head.
Big one Saturday and with it being an international break meaning no Pompey, Cherries or scum, 150ish Merthyr coming to town, this being our first home game in nearly a month, and it being 4th v 1st , it should be a fucking good day. Wardy has already beaten Gerwyn Price before, so we’re pretty much 1-0 up already. You’d like to think our position and the importance of the game see us past the 800 barrier on the gate, and three points would be fucking handy as well. Hopefully the Merthyr fans’ navigational systems are more reliable than Luke. SV.
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