Sunday, April 21, 2024

Carlton Town 2-1 Consett AFC


I'm walking on the backstreets of Barnsley, towards the town centre. I'm with Dean Gripton, from Football Manager, who has treated me to a smashing afternoon out. We've witnessed a thrilling, end to end 'Desmond Tutu' between the promotion-chasing Tykes and the Royals of Reading.

Due to a late running Northern train there's no time for a quick beverage at the Grade II listed Sheffield Tap, which is also a CAMRA Heritage entry. We are entertained by some sozzled Nottingham Trent University student football fans, who have sat in the away end all afternoon, with a mate who is from Reading.


We finish the evening up at the Brew Tavern micropub where they've just put fresh on an 8.4% Double India Pale ale called Dyson Sphere, from Azvez, who brew their beer on the old docks in Liverpool. They are owned by a guy who was involved at Neon Raptor, in Sneinton Market. He's even headhunted the head brewer from Rap Tap. I could drink their ales all night, but would probably end up windmilling with a Deliveroo cyclist or a nasty Tory MP. It's just the one, and lights out, when I return home to HQ.

It's the Blue Monday of all Mondays. It's the 35th anniversary of the Hillsborough Disaster, a game my  close mates and I attended on 15th April 1989. I remember sun-kissed skies and a journey full of hope as we travelled up the M1 northbound towards Sheffield. 


For some unknown reason, and it has stayed with me to this day, I always like to arrive at a match at least an hour before kick-off. Fuelled with beer is not my bag. We were all standing on the terraces, leaning on a blue-painted crash barrier by 1.45pm. I recollect, as kick off nearened, that we all remarked that the central pens had fans packed in like sardines, whilst the wing terraces had a small smattering of fans.

There looked to be a surge forward in the middle pens when Liverpool hit the crossbar in the opening minutes. The rest is history. I was reminded of this by a podcast put together by BBC Radio Nottingham's Sarah Julian, which is called Hillsborough Unheard: Nottingham Forest Fans. It's a heartbreaking diary of that day from a NFFC perspective. I'm so proud of my two mates who have opened up and reached out during this broadcast. I met them through the Hillsborough Survivors' Association, when we raised £3,000 on a 22 mile charity walk around some of the landmarks in Liverpool.


South Yorkshire Police, the incompetent Chief Superintendent, David Duckenfield, Sheffield Wednesday Football Club (no safety certificate), The FA, Margaret Thatcher and that pompous, arrogant weasel Colin Moynihan (4th Baron  .. wtf does that mean?) are all accountable for what happened that day, as had the correct safety measures been put in place, then this would never have happened. As for The Sun ....

It's Tuesday evening and I've just finished a 7.30am - 5pm shift at MSR Newsagents in Arnold. There's time for a quick change of clothing before pegging it down to Stadio El Stokeld for the Millers latest fixture versus Ossett United from West Yorkshire. I swing by Oceans for a chippy tea. I've hoovered it up and washed it down as I squeeze through the turnstile during a deep breath.


It's the usual drill: indie music is blasting out from the clubhouse, and 'Day Tripper' craft ale from Sneinton brewery Liquid Light, is still being poured from the bar, after the success of the Bitcoin Festival. The usual ensemble of characters are in attendance. I stand with the father of rock steady stalwart Millers' defender Dan Brown. Malc Brown is a fountain of football knowledge, particularly the Non League scene. He kicks every ball and goes through the many emotions that come over you as a parent, when your lad is a pivotal part of a team.

The Millers blow Ossett away in the first half. Forwards Nat Watson and Lamin Manneh are untouchable. Having said that, Carlton are in debt to the brilliance of 'Felix the Cat' in the nets. I'm keeping one eye on Lincoln City's late play-off challenge in League One. I do a little fist-pump on exiting the ground when I see that the Imps have won 1-0 to rivals Oxford United. Securing a play off spot could soon be in their hands.


I'm working all week, so there's no afternoon matinee at Cineworld or Broadway in Hockley. To be honest I'm still having sleepless nights after viewing Monkey Man the other week. I've never seen so much bloodshed since my burst main artery in 1985.

The backlog of fixtures and fatigue finally catch up with the Mighty Millers on Thursday evening; ironically the game versus Liversedge is played at Ossett United's ground by order of the FA. I can't leave the shop until 5 pm, so I thought there was 'Bob Hope' of me getting up to Yorkshire in time for kick off. 


Carlton Town committee board member, Kelly Marie, is leaving for the game at 5.30 pm. I jump into an UBER outside Istanbul Turkish Restaurant on High Street, Arnold. For a change it's hosing it down with rain as we make the short journey through the old mining village of Calverton towards the meeting point which is the Springwater Chinese Restaurant. Kelly is running a wee bit late with family logistics to juggle.
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I sit in the back of the car with Kelly's 12 year old son Dexter. Kelly's mum, Elaine, is in the front of the vehicle as we cross the border and enter the Republic of South Yorkshire. We discuss a number of subjects on the journey oop north including: good cinema films, murder documentaries and our favourite restaurants. Time passes by quickly, and we're soon parking up outside a butcher's shop adjacent to the ground.


It's £10 on the gate. I buy a couple of 50/50 tickets and a chip cob which isn't the best at £4. The music is mainly Northern Soul and Motown, which is pleasing on the ear. The weather is filthy wet with a swirling wind. I stand with the Carlton posse behind the goal. I'm with the club's commercial manager Gary Clarke whose tireless fundraising efforts are appreciated and supported by the club.

Carlton take the lead through an own goal from a corner. Liversedge are always a threat. It's only due to the heroics of 'Felix the Cat' that the Millers hang on to a slender half-time lead. The equaliser is well deserved and has been coming. It arrives on 69 minutes. Alex Hardwick has looked in good touch for the Millers this evening. He sees an effort smack off the underside of the bar. It's heartbreak on 85 minutes when a sensational strike from Jack Carr gives 'Sedge' all three points. It's just a bump in the road for our lads. It doesn't dampen our enthusiasm or mood on the drive home. Thanks for driving Kelly.


I'm dog tired on Saturday. This working malarkey is stifling my social life. I'm away from work for midday after an early start marking up the papers with my good mate 'Chippy Fryer.' There's a quick turnaround at Chez Palms. The Southwell 26 bus lets me down AGAIN, so I end up taking a half an hour stroll to the ground.

It's the same drill, but word up is that the well is about to run dry on the 'Day Tripper' ale front. Further bad news from the Bush Telegraph is that star man Lamin Manneh is missing from today's line up. I grab a chat with the Consett 'keeper, on my walk around the ground. He says they've only brought 12 men with them, and that the sub is a 'keeper. Add to that, their manager is playing up top and is in his mid 40s.


I stand with Malc and Mark, whose daughter is the girlfriend of Khyle Sargent, who once again is taking one for the team by playing out of position. It's a sluggish start by the Millers, but no blame is attached. These lads, ladies and staff all have full time jobs. All have gone above and beyond for the badge in recent weeks - and I include the likes of staunch volunteers such as Alan Murphy, Jonny Hand, Clubshop Ken, Jon Hartstone Nigel Harlow, Big Joe and Casually Dan  - all in it for the love of the game and club; not the money. Folk have, in recent weeks, given up time to fork the sodden turf and wheelbarrow tons of sand, to make the surface playable (Adam and Kris, amazing work). Apologies if I've forgotten to mention you.

'Felix the Cat' is at it again. He makes a worldie save that defies belief that has me rubbing my eyes, as if awakening from a dream. Niall Hylton and Alex Hardwick are excellent again. They bag two goals to settle OUR nerves. 


'Casually Dan' spins Pretty Girls Make Graves by The Smiths at the break. It's about the pressures of early sexual encounters in Morrissey's teenage years - it takes my mind off 'The Lincoln's' big game at Cheltenham, where it's one a piece.

Consett's manager is fagged out. The sub 'keeper is sent up front. I admire him for making the trip and not throwing a sickie like one or two probably have. Consett reward their loyal following with a goal that puts the Millers' faithful on edge. There's a nerve jangling, nail-biting ten minutes before the final whistle. There are ugly scenes close to us - apparently you can't say handbags anymore. A visiting player is shown a straight red. A shame that, as the ref has managed the game well.

Man of the Match: Hylton on Sat and 'Felix on Thursday

Attendance: 384

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