Notts County v County

County gain a second win of 2008 with a battling performance at Notts County. What was especially pleasing was the fact we won the game after being behind, something we struggled with previously. A very entertaining day... Report by Martin

With cheap train tickets available for this game (working out at a mere £7.10 each) it was to be Peels on Tracks for this game – we cannot break even on a coach against that price! Therefore in the week phone calls were arranged for everyone to meet up. In the event, groups were split up as the more reckless spirits left on the 8.55, the slightly lazy but still keen left on the 9.55, and the rest of needing a lie in after a busy week at work met at 10.30 for the 10.55 departure to Nottingham. A steady stream of County fans headed into the station, and everyone got into groups of four to take advantage of the tickets, after Pete and Phil had done commendable work explaining to the ticket office that a large number of fans would be asking for exactly the same thing. This made life much easier and soon everyone was on Platform 1 waiting for the arrival of the train. As usual, it was a two carriage train, so it was probably a good job that the majority of travelling fans were split over three trains.

Onboard, we were met by Sue, Ian and Graham who’d travelled down from Manchester with a friend, thus guaranteeing they had seats. It was Sue’s birthday so it didn’t take long for a rousing chorus of “Happy Birthday” to break the silence on the carriage, though the amendment of “You Old B*stard” at the end was an unusual, yet predictable, addition. In the meantime, the rest of us had to scrabble around to find a seat wherever we could, and at each stop, a game of “musical chairs” commenced as everyone tried to get closer to where their mates were sat. 

The journey passed uneventfully, with the exception of Phil running short of beverages well before Nottingham, which set off a mild panic attack, and Les “The Scrooge” Pollard refusing to share his butties with anyone. Apparently he was saving them for later, and more on the butties later as someone else had plans for them too…

As the train approached Nottingham, Billy called. He was already settled into a pub, and gave me specific directions to get there. Which, by the time I’d got off the train and found the way out of the station, I’d completely forgotten. I couldn’t even remember the name of the pub. “Useless git!” I heard from someone behind me as we discussed next steps. So, repeating the call to Billy, he explained again. I was OK with the directions until he explained “It’s the pub with the canal in the middle”. I repeated this out loud, and suddenly Alan said he knew where it was, so we set off for it, with me still baffled by the description. After stopping to get Sue’s birthday card so everyone could sign it, we were soon at the pub, which was only a couple of minutes away from the station. Billy was outside, having a smoke with his beer. Heading into the pub, it was immediately clear why the earlier description had been given. The pub was on the edge of the canal, and as soon as you walked into the door, to get to the bar, you had to go over a small bridge, underneath which two narrowboats and one duck were bobbing on the water. It really did have a canal in the middle.  

There were already a number of County fans in the pub, including the hardy 8.55-ers (Mannion and co) and Wilkes/Mouse etc… Also present was Froggy, who had remained true to form. Ensuring that he did not have any travel issues that may mean he missed the game, he set off for Nottingham on… Thursday. He was feeling a bit ropey from the Friday night drinking with the many decent pubs.

Everyone settled down and conversation turned to what people had been up to over the New Year. Unsurprisingly, a large number had come down with the lurgy. The rest had drunk suitable amounts to see in the New Year. There was also highly entertaining story, which won’t be repeated here, but if you get Mannion drunk enough he’ll probably spill the beans on it – it involves a tale about someone else we all know, various activities, and a light bulb!

Over the course of the next hour of so, more beer was drunk. Stowford Press cider in my case, which looks pretty poor but tastes much better than Strongbow and its stablemates. Billy was sticking to vodka and coke with a lack of Blue around. We were all slightly shocked, when just after 1pm, a round of Jaigermeister came to the table. Surely it was too early for this? I must confess that I didn’t fancy it much and managed to persuade Phil to drink mine. Well, I say “persuade” but he wasn’t exactly and unwilling participant.

Shortly after, Les went for a cigarette. This appeared to be the perfect opportunity to snaffle the sandwiches, which were still uneaten. Phil quickly grabbed them, and set about looking for some string so he could tie it to the bridge and lower it over the canal. A great idea, but I’m not sure if he found any. Les came back, and it wasn’t long before he discovered they’d gone, and there was a great deal of blame apportioned to innocent victims before the sandwiches were eventually returned.

Now, as you probably know, Nottingham has the UK’s only “Hooters”. Certain individuals in the group were keen to get there to sample the curly fries, apparently. With it being a closer “pub” to the ground, we set off for it. As we turned the corner, we noticed that the Stockport County Supporters Disabled Bus was parked in Hooters car park. Inside, Carl and everyone were settled into a table so we joined them for a few drinks before it was time to get to the ground.

We had a debate on the train on the way up as to which is the best ground in this league. Edgeley Park apart, of course. Debate centred around the fact that Notts County’s ground is probably one of the best in the league – it is certainly very much a “classic” football ground. Franchise’s ground was eliminated from the running on the grounds that they aren’t actually a football club. The other contender was Darlington’s ground, which personally, I really like, it’s just a shame that they can’t fill it. Bradford would also be in the running, albeit that it’s been built by crazy people that are seeing how many different sized and shaped stands are in the running. For the complete package though, including quality and availability of pubs, we reached the conclusion that Notts County is hard to beat.

The game was a few minutes old by the time I found a seat. As usual with a Peels match report, the football content will be minimal, as by this time the main thing I was interested in was finding something to eat – beer munchies. What I did get a good view of however, was Notts opening the scoring. From a corner, we left their chap pretty much unmarked and he was able to power a header in from about six yards out to leave us 1-0 down. Debate around me centred on whether Logan could have come for it or the marker could have been closer. There were a few resigned faces at this point, as Notts County has not been a happy hunting ground for us – remember Carlton “I’m a genius” Palmer’s side going 2-0 up at half time then Carlton mucked it around and we lost 3-2, for example?

County this time were showing no signs of deflation from going a goal down, and fighting to get back in the game. I still needed to eat though, so set off for the food stall. As I was purchasing a burger (with onions, that was very good for a footie ground burger) I heard the unmistakable sound of fans celebrating a goal. It sounded like it was an equaliser for us, but I couldn’t be sure, and hurried back to the stand to see County players trotting back into their own half, and the first Stockport celebration songs starting to echo around. Pleased, while slightly miffed at missing it, I found out that Elding had put it into the bottom corner after some good build up play. Game on again, and let’s see if we can knock Notts confidence by getting a second. The volume started to pick up from the away end. Our main area of worry was a chap with bleached blonde hair, apparently signed on loan from Forest, who looked a decent player for Notts and was causing us problems, but County were doing OK and we were hopeful of being able to claim a second.

We did get a second, and it came in slightly odd circumstances. County were attacking the far end, and we saw the ball go into the box to the far post, where Dicko and another blue shirt were lurking. We couldn’t tell what happened, it looked like the ball had gone past the post but no-one was really sure. Suddenly, blue shirts were speeding towards Liam, and belatedly, the County fans realised the ball was in the back of the net and the celebrations began. From seeing it again on TV it pretty much hits Dicko in the chest as he’s by the post and bounces in – he seemed as surprised as anyone else, but while not his best goal, they all count.

At 2-1 up we saw the game out to half time. Notts is a ground that serves beer at half time, and the concourse area was extremely busy. One County fan was thrown out for reasons unknown, but apart from that, it was business as usual.

The second half of the game was largely uneventful from a County point of view, as concentrated on ensuring we kept the lead. Notts nearly scored twice – the bleached bloke hit the post when he probably should have scored, and they also hit the bar from a free kick. Our luck was holding though, and despite a few last minute panics, we held on to claim our first win in Notts for around 10 years (after much debate, apparently we won here with 2 Own goals around 97?). It was my first trip here seeing anything but a defeat, and as such, I was pleased with a cracking win.

Happy County fans piled out of the ground, and straight back into Hooters. There was some bemusement at the FA Cup scores – Coventry 4-1 winners at Blackburn and Oldham beating Everton? We decided not to hang around though and head to another pub, eventually settling into one next to the train station. Some mad woman was raving on about supporting United despite never having been and living in Nottingham, but thankfully she left not long after. The days adventures were not over yet though. Word soon spread that something had happened at Chesterfield and the line back to Stockport was closed. The initial view “They just want us out of the town centre” was soon disproved and the line really was shut. We’d have to travel back with two changes, going via Derby, then Stoke. Phil and I headed to find an off-licence with a significant “order list” for supplies on the train(s) home.

Nottingham to Derby was uneventful, and we changed at Derby with a 30 minute wait. Various members of the group headed in all directions including 1) Pub 2) Station Bar 3) Fruit Machine and 4) Chip Shop. The train to Stoke arrived slightly early and we headed onto it. As the doors beeped closed, we noticed that Andy Burt was missing. He’d been off to the Chippie, with a request from Phil for “A Large Fish, no chips” and not been seen for a bit. Word spread he was in the 2nd carriage so we relaxed and the train pulled out of the station. After a while, there was no sign of Andy, and it transpired he wasn’t actually on the train. This was confirmed when we disembarked at Stoke and still no sign of him. Hmm… calls were placed to track him down without success. Thankfully he turned up later in the Chunky only ten minutes or so after we got there.  

The Derby “process” was repeated at Stoke, with various people heading off to the bar / hotel just outside the station. Phil and I still had plenty of supplies from earlier, having taken up additional beverage to avoid the morning’s incident of running out. This nearly ended in catastrophe when Pete mistook my carrier bag for an empty on and aimed a playful kick at it. The sound of glass skidding across the platform was not good, but thankfully, nothing was smashed.

The days entertainment wasn’t over yet though. We were now on the West Coast Main Line, serving both Birmingham and London. With both of the lesser clubs in red and faded blue from up the road playing in each City today. The train we were to catch pulled in, and it was quickly apparent things may get “interesting”. The train was heaving with the first two carriages full of United fans coming back from Villa, and the back two full of City fans from their 3pm kick off at West Ham. There was a more than healthy contingent of Transport Police as well. As the train slowed to a halt you could see them looking at the 30+ group of County fans. The doors to the train opened and immediately they demanded to know “Who are you?” The reply of “Stockport County” was greeted with “What the f*ck are you doing here!?”. Word obviously hadn’t spread of the train issues, and they set about stewarding us to the middle of the train, where we were under instructions that it was a “dry” train and to “behave yourselves”.

It must be said that a few of the BTP were not particularly helpful, snatching cans/bottles off people without much politness and smashing them on the tracks under the train. This didn’t go down particularly well in certain quarters, and some arguing ensued. That said, I suppose in hindsight that we didn’t really help matters when boarding the train to a rousing rendition of “United’s sh*t, City’s worse…”.

The travel passed off peacefully as for the most part fans swapped stories, and it was interesting to note that all the fans we spoke to were not remotely interested in FC United, just the “real” United as they called it. Although Les Pollard played hardball and just glowered at them for the trip back to Stockport. We arrived back in Stockport and disembarked, though even then, the fun wasn’t entirely finished. A group of 5 lads of about 17 years old decided to start goading a particular County fan, who then promptly chased all of them down past McDonalds… a bizarre sight.

Thankfully, that was about all of the action for the day, and it was back to Chunky HQ. The usual jug was already in use so we ended up drinking from a pot urn, but it still served its purpose. The only downside was that Billy persuaded me to leave the Chunky and head to the Market for some late drinking. Apparently I left at around 2.10am refusing to get a taxi and declaring “I can walk it”. All I know is that Sunday morning I had a very dry mouth and sore head…. Definitely Billy’s fault, but a cracking day out nevertheless.