Stourbridge 0 Salisbury City 0

I’m in my den, sifting through all my handwritten letters and e-mails from kids who want to be the next David Beckham. Ages range from between eight and twenty years old. One e-mail catches my eye.

He says he trained at the Notts County Centre of Excellence, as an under 8, about five years ago, but didn’t make the final draft. His preferred position is full back. He’s tough in the tackle, has good positioning sense and is a crisp passer of the ball. I’m warming to this boy.

I check out the details of his local club, it’s Keyworth United. Mmmm, that’s interesting, it’s right on my patch. Hang on a minute, I’ve lived in the village for over forty years. I look further down his CV; his team is Keyworth United Under 13’s Green – eh? I help coach them.



I glance to the bottom of the page ….. it’s signed by a Joe Palmer (‘The Skipper’). The cheeky little monkey has tried to blag a trial with the oldest Football League club in the world (Notts County). Oh well, I might let him come and train for the last few weeks of the season.

Boy, have I been ill readers. It was touch and go one day that I might miss ‘Cash in the Celebrity Attic,’ featuring comedy genius Syd Little. Thankfully, I struggled down the stairs, accompanied by my duvet, box of tissues and Lemsips.

I was off work for two days. My first sick leave since 2007, when I dislocated my ring finger whilst almost taking a breathtaking catch on the deepest boundary in Nottinghamshire.



I’ve not proper ground hopped in weeks. I did Anstey Town v Hinckley FC on the 3rd Jan but didn’t blog it. I’ll have to re-visit. Apart from a Notts Senior Cup tie between the excellent Greenwood Meadows and Radcliffe Olympic, the ground hopping schedule has been as dead as a door nail.

It’s Friday evening. I’m shivering in sub zero temperatures at the bus stop outside The Fairway pub in the village of Keyworth. The bus turns up 25 minutes late. I have an enjoyable evening with work colleagues at the superb Mexican restaurant, Las Iguanas, on Chapel Bar in Nottingham.

I’m back home for 10pm. I can’t do late-ones anymore. Besides, I’ve a busy schedule tomorrow. Sticky Jnr needs dropping off at Center Parks, near Sherwood Forest, and then it’s back home, pick up the legend (Trumpy Bolton) and head off to Stalybridge, close to Manchester.



I’m up at 7.30am. We do the paper round a bit earlier. The Daily Mail informs us that young women in Britain have a binge drinking problem – fair play, Mrs P did had a couple of Lambrini’s last night. This is the same paper that warned us in December that the ‘Big Freeze’ was set to continue until the end of January.

We jump in the car and head up towards Mansfield. Sticky jnr asks for a detour to the nearest McDonalds. We both grab a McMuffin Breakfast. We’re back in the car. Junior has tuned into Capital FM (aka Radio Trent). They play three on the spin which darken my mood: ‘G6’, Usher and Rihanna – it’s like the old Chinese water torture. I ask junior if it’s OK if I go and hang myself on a tree in Sherwood Forest.

I boot him out the car at Center Parks, where he’s hooking up with a mate from school. I immediately change over the radio station. I’m panicking about the trip to Manchester. It’s reportedly -4 overnight, with a freezing fog set in for the morning.



As soon as I’m home, I log onto the Interweb: Hyde are already off. A friendly official from Stalybridge confirms down the phone to me that their Conference North game against high-flying Boston United has bit the dust.

I phone up Trumpy. He’s on his second can, and requires a steady hand to prepare his litre of cider that he’s siphoning into his trusty plastic bottle. He’s quite keen on a trip to Osset, but games in the West Yorkshire area are nearly all frozen off. We play it safe and head towards the West Midlands.

I’m keen to tick off Stourbridge, the weather seems more settled in that part of the country. Trumpy studies his crumpled, dog-eared old atlas. He has a couple of pubs to chalk off in the vicinity.



The legend is relaxed now. He unscrews the top off his cider bottle and guzzles two or three mouthfuls. I’ve some serviettes from McDonalds on standby in case he starts slavering. He’s had nearly three weeks off the pop and has an enormous thirst to quench.

Trumpy boasts of a refund he has been gifted by a hotel firm in Essex, after suffering a two hour Karaoke session whilst he was trying to get some kip. He and Mrs Trumpy ended up moving rooms.

He’s fiddling about with my Tom Tom sat nav. He normally bleats about how good his Garmin system is. The Tom Tom wire is frayed and won’t boot up. It’s no big deal, Trumpy knows the West Midlands like he does his cider manufacturers.



Five Live’s Mark Pougatch is smelling a cup upset at Torquay United’s Plainmoor. A heavy frost has seen games fall by the wayside at Crewe, Morecambe, Rochdale and Barrow.

We’ve soon rolled up in the car park of the Apple Tree in Coseley. Trumpy has the barmaid eating out of his hand. She falls for his charm and brings our two pints of Banks bitter over to the table. She flirts with the legend: “anything for you love.”

T Bolton notices that Valentines meals are advertised at £6.99 each. He enquires with the bar staff about a table for two for him and Mrs Trumpy.

I phone up Stourbridge FC, they confirm that the game has survived the elements.



Trumpy craftily lines up another boozer.. This time it’s the Fox Inn in Stourton. I field a call from my boss at Notts County. The under 18s have won again and retain top spot in the Northern Youth League.

Trumpy talks to some friendly locals, who tip us a few grounds we ought to visit. Halesowen is the pick of the bunch.

We park up down a cul-de-sac, 500 yards away from the ground. Trumpy has one of his infamous five minute sneezing fits, which is normally caused by him gating a cider too quickly.. It’s £8 entry and £1.50 for another excellent programme.



Stourbridge is in the metropolitan borough of Dudley. It has a population of over 50,000. It was once the centre for the glass-making industry. The War Memorial Ground is set in the Amblecote area of the town.

I remember Colin Murphy signing Stourbridge forward Tony Cunningham, when he was manager at Lincoln City, for a bargain £25,000. He later played for a string of clubs including Man City and Newcastle Utd. He’s now a top lawyer in Lincoln.

Well known bands to come from the Stourbridge area include: Diamond Head, The Wonder Stuff, Pop Will Eat Itself and Ned’s Atomic Dustbin. Led Zeppelin singer, Robert Plant, attended the King Edward VI School in the town.



T Bolton immediately dives into the Glassboys Social Club. The ground is three sided. The open side acts as a boundary for Stourbridge Cricket Club, who share the ground. Causeway United also play here in the Midland Alliance.

The ground is covered on the far left touchline, which also has wooden seating. The far goal is a covered terrace. The playing surface is worn and tired looking. Stourbridge U19s also play on here.

Today’s visitors are second placed Salisbury, which is a cathedral city in the county of Wiltshire, with a population of 50,000. Notable people born in the city include the actors Michael Crawford and David Mitchell.



Salisbury City are managed by former Mansfield Town and Hartlepool United free scoring midfielder, Darrell Clarke.

I’ve positioned myself nearer the end that Stourbridge are to attack. There’s a biting chilly breeze coming across from the cricket ground.

Trumpy appears on 15 minutes, and to be perfectly frank he’s missed nothing. Salisbury have that bit more quality, which is only to be expected, bearing in mind that last season they graced the Conference Premier. Stourbridge string three passes together, Trumpy starts singing: “it’s just like watching Brazil.”



Trumpy has made acquaintances with a little fella who’s sporting a tea cosy on his head. He’s immediately christened ‘Compo.’ Trumpy can’t work out his thick Black Country dialect. He asks Compo if he’s from Wales. Compo replies that he’s not from Wales but has been to Rhyl on his holidays.

The game has 0-0 written all over it. Chances are at a minimum. There’s a small flurry of activity before the break, with both sides spurning opportunities.

We’re on our way back to the clubhouse again. A lad gets chatting to us. He’s a season ticket holder at Barcelona, who goes to all their home games at the Nou Camp.



The Social Club is buzzing. Trumpy downs another pint. I peer up at the TV screen, former Salisbury City striker Matt Tubbs has put Crawley Town one up at Torquay.

I leave ‘our hero’ to shout another one up and go and stand with the Salisbury fans at the far end. I expect them to push on and show their quality. Incredibly it’s the Glassboys who create the clearer cut chances. One is cleared off the line, whilst substitute Drew Canavan horribly screws a shot wide with his first touch of the game.

Salisbury play the prettier football, but sadly have no end product. Trumpy is in my ear now, giving me grief about another 0-0 (I’ve done three with him now). He scuttles off for his final alcoholic beverage of the afternoon.



I decide to fetch him from the bar, just as Stourbridge’s best player, the diminutive Sam Rock sends a long range shot whistling past the upright.

The game’s petering out and is in the dying embers. Trumpy is in the ‘small boys room.’ Sticky Palms lets out a huge shriek “GOAL”. People dash from the bar to the window to see which team has snatched a late winner.. “Sorry folks, says Sticky, “I’ve just noticed that Lincoln City have scored in the 88th minute on the BBC Vidiprinter.”

I’ll get my coat.

Attendance: 381

Man of the Match: Sam Rock.

Alfreton Town 2 Eastwood Town 2

It’s Friday December 31st : famous people born on this day include the Chairman of the Keyworth Branch of the Wolverhampton Wanderers Supporters’ Club – ‘Gangsta.’ (7 years old). The little fella’s favourite colours are orange and gold.

He’s splashed out on a replica Holland shirt for his birthday. I’ve watched him tackle his big brother in our back garden. The antics of the Dutch squad in the World Cup final of 2010 have had a lasting effect on the youngster.

It’s New Year’s Eve night. We’re having a party at our house. Thirty people are in the room. Sticky Palms is in full flow as the bingo caller. I’ve got all the lyrics. We’re playing for an £8 jackpot. Everyone is on tenterhooks. Most of the players only require one number.

I shout out number 14. There’s a huge squeal. A young man celebrates with a shirt over his head. Birthday boy,’ Gangsta’ has scooped the jackpot.



Mrs P has organised a ‘Secret Santa.’ People have bought some joke presents. I’m called into the room to collect my gift. Some cheeky sod has gifted me a plastic, talking budgie. When will I get a real one?

The party is a success. Taggart is man of the match. He’s slipping my lads a couple of cans of beer. The watching constabulary are not amused.

I’m still washing pots up at 2.30am. I’m fagged out readers. I don’t rise until 11am. There’s a mass tidy up. I’m soon up at the bottle bank for the second time in two days.



Big D texts in. He’s happy to drive to Alfreton, providing I pilot up to his house in Bramcote. Mrs P is off to the QMC to sit with her mum for an hour or two. I’m desperate to blow the cob webs away.

I take a quick gleg at the unofficial Badgers forum, an eleven page thread of insults and vitriol is being played out between fellow Eastwood supporters: they are divided and not united.

I sit with ‘The Angler’ and watch the first half of West Brom v Man Utd. The Baggies are outstanding, particularly midfield duo, Chris Brunt and Graham Dorrans.

I’m in the Rolls Royce on the Melton Road. My head is still banging. I switch Radio Trent on. The annoying ‘Like a G6’ song, by Los Angeles electro hop band, Far East Movement, is bouncing around the car. I switch it off and open the car window to allow some fresh air in.



Within 15 minutes I’m knocking on Big D’s front door. The big man has also been ‘on it.’ We hop into his 4x4. He flicks on West Brom v Man Utd on Five Live. The reception is poor. He retunes to Radio Nottingham. Billy Davies is droning on and on.

Big D is livid. He raced back from Radford the other evening to watch a double episode of Coronation Street. It was a no show from the ‘Street’ Jack the Ripper - John Stape. I’m sure he’ll cook up another murder for the New Year.

Alfreton is a town and civil parish in the county of Derbyshire. It has a population of just over 20,000. Its main industry was coal mining. The Thorntons chocolate factory is situated in the south of the town. The civil engineer, Benjamin Outram, was born in the town in 1764.



Alfreton Town were formed in 1959. Their record attendance is 5023, for the visit of Matlock Town in 1960. They recently sold talismanic defender Kyle McFadzean to Crawley Town for a substantial fee. Previous managers of the Reds include: European Cup winner, Gary Mills (now York City) and Oxford United manager Chris Wilder.

I bag a programme for a couple of quid on the way in. It’s another outstanding effort for this level.

Big D and Sticky Palms need some hot food to soak up the alcohol fumes from last night. The snack bar ranks amongst one of the best on the circuit. We have Cornish pasty and a chip cob. It’s washed down with two cups of tea.

I notice Rammers wandering through the turnstile. He’s accompanied by Shirebrook Town manager Rudy Funk. He’s immediately pounced upon by eager Eastwood fans, who are no doubt keen to express their gratitude to John for the sterling work he put in when he was an employee of the club.



There is a moving moment before the game when a minute’s silence is held in the memory of goalkeeper Dale Roberts, who turned out for both teams during his short career. I notice how visibly upset Reds’ ‘keeper Paddy Gamble appears – he used to be a colleague and friend of Dale Roberts at Nottingham Forest.

We stand behind the goal, at the top of a steep terrace, with a terrific, panoramic view of the Derbyshire landscape. Alfretown are attacking our end.

England C international, Liam Hearn, looks razor sharp for the Reds and more than capable of playing at Conference level. He has a shot turned away in the opening minutes and blazes another effort into the crowd.

The Badgers begin to find some rhythm. Pocket-sized forward Lindon Meikle is on top of his game. He buzzes like a bee, but his final shot has no sting in the tail. His touch is good today, as is his movement.



Eastwood take the lead on 42 minutes through a deflected free kick from former Belper Town attacking midfielder, Lee Stevenson. Gamble makes a fine save from Lindon on the stroke of half time.

We take a stroll in an anti-clockwise direction around the Impact Arena. We stand to the rear of an all-seated area, behind the goal we expect Alfreton to launch an all-out attack on in the second period.

Big D has made acquaintance with the Alfreton mascot, Jasper the Dog. The big man is never shy at missing a photo opportunity. Jasper is not as sociable as Scrappy Doo or Scooby Doo, but does whisper his name into my ear.

Nicky Law will have been stripping the paint off the changing room walls. Eastwood have dominated the last 25 minutes of the first half and look good value for their lead. Stevenson’s drive and Meikle’s all round play are easy on the eye.



A last ditch tackle on Anton Foster prevents Eastwood from going further ahead. Alfreton restore parity on 51 minutes. Substitute Ian Ross floats in a corner, Paul Clayton’s effort is cleared off the line, but Hearn pounces onto the clearance to equalise.

Andy Todd puts Eastwood 2-1 up, cutting in from the right hand side and blasting a shot into the roof of the net.

The final half an hour is a pleasure to witness. The game ebbs and flows and twos and throws. You just don’t want to it end. The Badgers spurn two great opportunities. Stevenson and Meikle, for once, fluff their lines.



Former Stags’ winger, Nathan Arnold, has been introduced to the game. His low sense of gravity and speed are causing mayhem down the Alfreton right hand side.

Ian Ross clips a ball in from the left which is headed home by Anthony Howell. The Reds go for the jugular in a grandstand finish. At the death Danby tips over an Arnold header which would have given Alfreton an undeserved victory. Eastwood are well worth the point.

It later transpires that Preston North End’s mascot, Deepdale Duck, had to be led away by a club steward for distracting Rams’ ‘keeper Stephen Bywater. Jasper the Dog would never behave like that.

Attendance : 914

Man of the Match: Jasper the Dog.

Radford FC 0 Gedling Miners' Welfare 3

It’s Tuesday evening, December 28th. I’m sat in the Snug of the Lord Collingwood public house in the picture postcard North Yorkshire village of Upper Poppleton, close to the city of York. I’m enjoying a pint of Christmas Cracker real ale. Mrs P, ‘Our Mark’ and his wife are sat with me.

I delve into my pocket for my phone. I’ve two missed calls from my sister in-law and brother in-law (Plod). No disrespect, but they wouldn’t both be trying to contact me, unless it was absolutely necessary. My heart sinks and my hand begins to tremble. I know the news isn’t good.

My mind goes back to when I received bad news about my father over ten years ago, as I begin to punch out the numbers on my mobile. I can’t look Mrs P in the eye. It turns out my mother in-law has took a nasty tumble at Bradgate Park in Leicestershire. She has been rushed into the Queen’s Medical Centre University Hospital, in Nottingham, with a suspected broken hip. She will be having corrective surgery tomorrow.



Poor old Mrs P is unable to enjoy the rest of the evening, as she is sick with worry. We decide not to tell the kids until the morning, as they both worship the ground that Nana walks on. The operation is a success. We can look forward to our get together on New Year’s Eve.

The following night (Wed) is a momentous occasion for Sticky junior. He’s gutted to be missing the Forest v Sheep game but is delighted with the Blackberry updates he’s receiving from The City Ground. Predictably he hammers his Uncle Craig (Plod & Ram) with a few teasing texts).

I later notice on the highlights that Nottingham born Kris Commons is kissing the Rams badge and pointing out his name on the back of his shirt to the Forest fans. This tosser is out of contract in June and will be heading to pastures new. There should be a banning order preventing this fool from entering our city.



It’s Thursday evening. The Radford v Gedling MW game has passed a 4pm pitch inspection. Reports suggest that the frost has thawed but water levels have risen, the surface will be heavy. Some of the players haven’t kicked a ball for nearly six weeks.

Mrs P and Sticky jnr have nipped off to the QMC for the visiting hours graveyard shift. ‘The Skipper’ and I are in ‘Sally Gunnell’ heading down to the ten pin bowling centre on Lenton Lane industrial estate. He’s having a night out with his pals from Clifton All Whites Football Club.

I’m hopeless around the inner city, so have brought my Tom Tom sat nav. The fuse in my lighter connection has blown up and the sat nav is dead. I’ll have to bluff my way to the ground.



I drive down Derby Road and turn left opposite the Savoy Cinema. I turn Radio Nottingham on, it’s a bad start to the evening, they are playing George Benson’s 1983 hit ‘In Your Eyes.’ I’m smack in the middle of Radford. The night is still and the place feels eyrie. I pass a few ‘Rat on a Rat’ signs. One or two pubs are boarded up.

I had planned on visiting a hostelry that was in the Good Pub Guide 2011, but time isn’t on my side. I’ve also got with me my new Panasonic camera which Mrs P has persistently pointed out has cost an arm and a leg (no new budgie to report on folks, we cling onto the hope that he will arrive on my birthday).

I turn left off a vibrant Radford Road, opposite the Asda superstore, into Randall Street. You would never guess you were at a football ground as the Selhurst Street arena is concealed with huge mauve coloured gates.

I park up at the back of some dimly lit terraced housing. I squeeze Sally Gunnell in between a white van and a Bentley.



Radford is one of the most multi-cultural areas in our city. It has a large ethnic minority which includes: West Indian, African, Asian and Eastern Europeans. It is a place not without social issues. Two days after this game the junction of Hartley Road and Alfreton Road was sealed off by police following reports of shots being fired at 6am on New Year’s Day.

Radford was once the home to Raleigh bicycles, Player’s cigarettes and Manlove, Alliott & Co Ltd – inventors of incinerators for waste disposal.

Famous custodians from the area include the writer of Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, Alan Sillitoe and Hi-de- Hi actress, Sue Pollard.

There is a belief in hope not hate. Groups such as UNITY, headed up by former Ilkeston Town midfielder Morris Samuels, endeavour to unite the troubled areas of the Meadows, St Anns and Radford. It’s a project that I’m keen to get involved with.



A friendly official from the Pheasants lets me in through the gate. It’s £4 admission and £1.20 for one of the best programmes I’ve read this season: a huge pat on the back to its editor, Howard Bacon, for this labour of love.

I’ve already noticed one or two of Nottingham’s larger characters amongst the crowd. Big Glenn Russell, the Pelican manager is in attendance. He’s seems rather subdued, just lately, on the world’s greatest football message board (NSL).

Radford Football Club were established in 1964. In 1977 they became the first amateur club in Britain to be allowed to wear advertising on the front of their shirts. Former Notts County, Lincoln City and Bristol Rovers striker Devon White once played for the club.

I take a few snaps with my new camera. The on-board memory only stores six photos, so I’m well miffed when I’ve run out of photos before the game starts. I’ll get a memory card tomorrow.



I take a leisurely stroll around the ground. Behind the far goal is wasteland that backs onto some three storey flats. Sirens blare out from nearby Radford Road.

I stand to the right of the Gedling MW dugout, I like their manager Graham Walker, he certainly appears to know his onions.

The game is delayed by five minutes when an alert linesman spots a hole in the top right hand corner of the far goal. Nobody seems in a particular hurry to remedy it.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, the bald eagle has landed, Big D is in the building. He collects a cup of tea from the snack bar and hooks up with Sticky. He’s not on great form as he’s suffering from an ear infection. He prefers the less traditional methods of treatment like fiddling with a cotton bud or pouring TCP down his tab hole.



There’s an early scare for Welfare in the first minute, with their ‘keeper Ross Cherry having to be alert to prevent Radford’s Luke Attenborough from scoring.

Big D doesn’t appear to be that interested. He tells me he’s booked in for a four day wedding celebration at Sorrento, in Italy, in late summer. Talk then turns to the latest happenings on the cobbled streets of Weatherfield, in Manchester. Big D is worried and concerned for that bungling, murdering idiot, John Stape. I remark that he reminds me of Stan Laurel with his blank expression and continual head scratching.

We take a break from ‘The Street’ when Gedling’s Luke Smith, on 17 minutes, curls a cross in from the left; it’s met with a Bryan Robson type run from the excellent Danny Roberts, who heads the ball into the roof of the net.

Radford look to be blowing a bit already. The effort levels are there, but they are poor in the final third and appear to have little or no game plan.

The first 45 minutes has served up poor fare. Big D has seen enough, he slips away to catch up on John Stape’s latest mishap.



I bump into Nottingham’s most famous groundhoppers, Malcolm Storer and Daft Lad Kev, from next door. They’ve both been desperate for a game. It’s their first ever visit to Selhurst Street. Radford FC very kindly reserved them a car parking space on the front grid.

Malc is trying to raise some cash for the APTCOO charity (children’s special needs). I hand him over a small donation.

Welfare double their lead early in the second half. An excellent corner from Luke Smith evades all in the box, an alert Ben Greenhalgh, a first half substitute for Stephen Cox, is lurking at the back post, he stabs the ball into the back of the net.

The £4 entrance fee is fully justified moments later. A mazy run by full back Liam Corrigan puts him deep into the Pheasants half, he releases the ball to Greenhalgh on his right, who skips inside and curls the ball into the far corner of the net. It’s the game’s ‘Champagne Moment.’

I’m next to the Radford dugout. Their management are normally game for a laugh, but tonight they are less animated, without passion and almost resigned to defeat. It’s a shame as Radford is a fantastic club, with a vibrant social scene and an important place in the community.

The game ends on a sour note with an awful tackle on two goal hero Greenhalgh. The offender escapes unpunished.

There’s just time for a quick chat with the charming Gedling MW official, Tony Hay, before heading home to watch John Stape’s latest calamity at the doctor’s surgery.

Attendance: 88

Man of the Match: Danny Roberts (no relation of Alf)

Nottingham Forest 3 Crystal Palace 0

I really want a Budgie. I thought I’d cracked it earlier in the year when Mrs P planted a box of Trill seed in my snap bag on my birthday – it was just a practical joke though.

My thoughts have turned to Christmas and I’m hoping that a little green and canary fellow, who I’ve named Murphy (after the legendary Lincoln City manager Colin Murphy), will arrive on the morning of December 25th. I can teach him to whistle the EastEnders theme tune (to annoy Mrs P) and the kids will be feed him swear words. I’m not holding my breath though.

I managed to make it 4 games in 6 days this week but not all went to plan. I was all set for the FA Trophy replay between Eastwood Town and Rushden & Diamonds. I logged onto the Badgers’ website at 6pm. There was an announcement saying that the game has been cancelled due to ‘unforeseen circumstances.’ I presumed it was down to power cuts reported in the area.

The Taxman and I shot over to Quorn’s Farley Way Stadium. Lincoln United ran out worthy winners, despite playing over an hour with 10 men. I switched my phone on when I got home to find a text from Rammers. Rushden and Diamonds goalkeeper Dale Roberts, whose previous clubs include Nottingham Forest, Alfreton and Eastwood had died suddenly. I was in shock and totally numb.



The following night was a proud moment for anybody involved in the youth set up at Notts County (I am the Talent Identification Co-ordinator for the club). We played Liverpool in the FA Youth Cup 3rd Round.

Liverpool took an early lead. A disallowed goal for the Pies on the stroke of half time proved to be a decisive turning point. We were blown away in the second period. Liverpool’s multi million pound world wide scouting network, versus little old me and my boss Mick – hardly a level playing field is it?

It’s Friday afternoon and I’m sat in the Larwood and Voce pub in Trent Bridge Cricket Ground. It’s our works’ Christmas party. I have a couple of Harvest Pale Ales. We move onto the Stratford Haven. We bump into Barthez, Tuckers and Bagpuss. They’re all steaming as they have been on the pop since midday.

We stroll into the Monkey Tree on the Avenue. Nottinghamshire County Cricket Club are holding their Xmas party in here. The world’s greatest glove man, Chris Read, is sat at a table in a Bananaman outfit. He had the misfortune to bump into a drunken Barthez in the toilets a few hours earlier.



It’s Saturday morning, 4.30am. I’m trudging downstairs with a duvet and two pillows. I watch the ‘afternoon’ session at Perth’s WACA ground. Southampton born 6ft 8” fast bowler Chris Tremlett bowls a furious spell of short pitch bowling. There’s no fist pumping from Brad Haddin today, he boots the ball through the covers when he’s bowled by Tremlett.

Sticky jnr is fast asleep. I don’t want to disturb the highly-strung teenager, he might kick off. I do him a favour and deliver his papers for him. The Daily Mail front page predicts that the ‘Big Freeze’ is to continue until the end of Jan. I collect some tips off junior’s customers – snooze you lose, readers.

I nip into town for some lastminute.com shopping. England’s top order collapse quicker than Gillian McKeith. The highlight of trip was hearing David Essex’s ‘A Winter’s Tale’ in Clinton Cards. My mate Shifty at work does a cracking impression of that song. I was ripped off for £8 for two cards by the way.

I stroll round to the Nuclear Scientist’s crib; he’s piloting today. The foot well in his Jaguar is overflowing with empty Ginsters sandwich wrappers, Walkers crisps packets and half full plastic bottles of Buxton’s Spring Water.



NS forced his 12 year old lad to watch Band of Brothers on DVD last night. The poor little sod has tossed and turned for most of the night.

Twenty eight of us are meeting up at the Goose in Gamston for the game today: 21 kids and 7 adults. I shout up 7 Cokes, 7 bowls of chips, 2 pints of Hardy Hanson’s Rockin Rudolph (yum yum) and a cup of coffee. Total cost £28: Non League days out are a lot cheaper.

Sunderland v Bolton is on the car radio. The Black Cats lead with a solitary goal from Danny Welbeck. We park up on the Radcliffe Road, adjacent to a frozen Grantham Canal. The kids throw branches and stones at the ice-covered surface.

As we enter the ground I notice a stationary police van with 6 coppers inside tossing it off drinking coffee. We’re in Block M of the Brian Clough 12 rows back. It’s a bird’s eye view.



It’s a pitiful but understandable turn out by the visitors (739). They are down on their luck and are a club in financial crisis. It will need someone with the skills and experience of George Burley to get this club back on course.

Crystal Palace play in the South Norwood area of south London, in the borough of Croydon. It has a population of 15,000 and lies on the River Wandle. The author of the Sherlock Holmes novels, Arthur Conan Doyle, once lived in the area. Boxing commentator Harry Carpenter was born in South Norwood.

Its most famous resident is Pickles the dog, who bagged a £6000 reward, when finding the stolen Jules Rimet World Cup in 1966 underneath a hedge, wrapped in paper. He was invited to the celebration banquet where he was allowed to lick all the plates clean. Pickles met a tragic end when he choked on his own lead chasing a cat in 1967.

The Eagles were founded in 1905 but have been located at Selhurst Park since 1924. Their record league defeat was 9-0 to Liverpool at Anfield in 1989. Goalkeeper Perry Suckling was man of the match.



Defender Jim Cannon holds the record for the most league appearances (660). Their youngest ever player is John Bostock, who took to the field aged just 15 years old. He was soon snaffled up by Spurs.

Their record transfer fee received was for Andy Johnson, who went to Everton for a cool £8,600,000. Their biggest outlay was for French defender Valerian Ismael for 2,750,000. He went on to appear in only 13 league games.

Players to have played for the Reds and Eagles include: Neil Shipperley, Dougie Freedman (now Assistant Manager and also the scorer of Palace’s fastest league hat-trick), Ian Wright and Stan Collymore.

A list of celebrity fans include: the comedians Eddie Izzard, Jo Brand, Ronnie Corbett, Sean Hughes, ventriloquist Roger De Courcey (Sticky Palms caddied for him once) DJ Kid Jensen and the cricketer Mark Butcher.



I browse at the excellent John Lawson produced programme, which is good value, even at £3. There are some interesting interviews. A journalist talks up 19 year old forward Nialle Rodney, who has made just one league appearance.

I take note that the Academy side have lost their last two games. Nothing has come through since 22 year old Lewis McGugan.

A minute’s silence is held for Dale Roberts, the former reserve goalkeeper, who died in tragic circumstances last Tuesday. The silence is shattered by latecomers singing as they walk along the banks of the Trent, unaware of the moment.



The opening 20 minutes are as dull as dish water. Palace are set up for a draw and Forest can’t break them down. The Reds start to pepper Argentinean ‘keeper Julian Speroni. McGugan stings his hands from distance. He also claws away another curling effort from the Long Eaton youngster – no wonder he’s been crowned Palace player of the Year three years in a row.

Forest take the lead on 30 minutes when Luke Chambers heads home a flighted corner from McGugan. A yellow card is issued on 35 minutes; one of the kids has lobbed a sweet at someone eight rows down, Sticky Palms immediately reaches for his top pocket.

Once again Speroni comes to the rescue when a threaded through ball by the excellent Majewski finds Earnshaw whose effort is blocked.

Half-time can’t come soon enough. The Rockin Rudolph ale has taken its toll. There’s grim news from Elland Road – Leeds are one up, but plenty of Christmas cheer from Pride Park as D***y look to be tumbling to a fourth consecutive defeat.



Sheffield Wednesday loanee Marcus Tudgay opens his account on 47 mins lobbing over a stranded Speroni.

Palace go two up top at the break, and have brought on exciting 18 year old Ivory Coast striker Wilfried Zaha. His feet are fast and his pace frightening, he keeps Bertrand on his toes.

Speroni foils Earnshaw, once again as Forest run riot. The outstanding Majewski makes way for Welsh international Aaron Ramsey, a lad I first saw play for Wales U16s at Rhyl five years ago. His performance for the final 15 minutes of this game is breathtaking.



McCleary replaces an ineffectual Paul Anderson, who has had a wretched game. The 23 year old former Bromley winger makes no mistake from 12 yards following good work by Nathan Tyson.

Palace are awful. Midfielder, Neil Danns, who has given the ball away for most of the afternoon, later apologies to the Palace fans on his Twitter account.

Man of the Match: Julian Speroni and the 739 brave souls who made the trip.

Attendance: 22,359

Notts County 2 MK Dons 0

I’m in the Rolls Royce driving back from Peterborough. I feel gutted for the 132 Rochdale fans who are making the long, tiring journey home, to the Lancashire mill town.

There was an icy chill blowing off the River Nene, down the ground and into the away end. I was shivering for most of the second half. I’ve got the heaters on full blast. My nose is streaming and my throat is on fire.

To make matters worse my car radio has auto tuned into Peterborough Heart FM – bloody hell readers, they’re only playing the awful ‘Dancing on the Ceiling’ by Lionel Ritchie. I quickly hit the ‘search’ button. I’ve never been so relieved to hear the dulcet tones of Pete Waterman on Smooth FM.



I’m back home just before midnight, having dodged a couple of foxes on the A1. Mrs P has had a girly night. There are a few wine bottles stacked up. I’m stone cold sober; everyone appears to be talking gibberish. I climb the wooden hill and leave them to it.

I’m awake for 7.30am. I’ve promised Sticky jnr I’ll give him a dig out with his morning papers. I quickly check the Daily Mail for its front page headline, as it’s a constant source of amusement. For once it’s not about Princess Diana, Zola Budd or the Labour Party; instead they’re slaughtering the son of Pink Floyd star David Gilmour, for swinging on the Union Flag at the Cenotaph during the student riots, earlier this week.

I’m back in the house for a bit of Marmite on crumpets for breakfast. Mrs P is off to Tesco in Loughborough. I decide to have a quick run-around West Bridgford to see if I can spot any talent (footballers not women).

I’m driving down Station Road towards Plumtree when suddenly my wing mirror falls apart off ‘Sally Gunnell.’ Mrs P has conveniently forgotten to tell me that she caught it on the garage door yesterday. I have to make some running repairs.

I glance at the non league fixture list. Plenty of games have succumbed to the weather. I’m not taking any chances today. I ask the lads if they fancy an afternoon at the oldest football league club in the world. They both love coming down ‘The Lane.’



It’s an easy passout for Groundhopper when the kids tag along. Mrs P will turn a blind eye to two games in less than 24 hours. Before all that though, Sticky Palms Cleaning Services are called into action. My best pal, Finley Palmer, the rabbit, needs a cage make-over.

He’s sprawled out on the floor enjoying a brief spell of winter sunshine. He’s still got the monk on with me that he’s banned from having a trot out in the garden following an unexpected overnight stay (he escaped) a few weeks back, when the dirty stop out didn’t come home until 8am.

I have chicken soup, cheese and bread for lunch. I snatch the last five minutes of Dan Walker on the BBC’s Football Focus. He’s live at Villa Park. They show a wonder goal from Dalian Atkinson, ironically against Wimbledon, from back in 1993. It’s a mazy run, starting in his own half. He finishes it with an audacious chip.

‘Sizzers’ and ‘Growler’ are on board. We have to nip up Martins newsagents as jnr wants to buy a 3 litre bottle of pop. He’ll never smuggle that past the eagle-eyed stewards.



We park in County Hall. I notice that the ‘world renowned Trent Bridge Inn’ has its windows boarded-up. It’s been snapped up by controversial pub chain J D Wetherspoon. The Groundhopper blog’s resident drunk, Mr Trumpy Bolton, will be cocker hoop with the news.

The kids are at an age that they’d rather be seen dead than sit with Dad at a football match. They make their debut in the Kop Stand and leave me to gather my thoughts at the back of the Derek Pavis Stand.

I sit with The Nuclear Scientist and legendary Keyworth Utd Reserves manager ‘Jacko.’ Rumours are sweeping around the ground that ‘Jacko’ has blagged his way in as a pensioner.



Milton Keynes is a town in Buckinghamshire with a population of just under 200,000. It was, like Peterborough, designated a new town in 1967. The only time I’ve ever been was when Joe Kinnear’s Tricky Trees played at the National Hockey Centre a few years ago. My abiding memory of that evening was another inept performance by Marlon King.

I found the town to be soulless and short on character and pubs. I suppose it was only to be expected with it being a new town.

Milton Keynes has no dedicated radio station, just the Home Counties Heart FM – I don’t think Sticky Palms will be tuning in when he’s in the vicinity.

Well known folk from the town include: Arsenal first team fringe player, Mark Randall and Somerset batsman James Hildreth. The Formula One motor racing team Red Bull are based in MK.



Milton Keynes Dons were founded in 2004, under very controversial circumstances. That story is for another day. They play at Stadium: MK, which has a capacity of 22,000.

Scouser, Karl Robinson is the youngest manager in the Football League, having only just turned 30 years of age. His assistant is John Gorman. Former German international, Dietmar Hamann, is on the coaching staff; he will be joined early in the New Year by ex Liverpool legend Robbie Fowler. Luke Chadwick is also in the squad.

The Pies have had a change of manager since my last visit. Paul Emerson Carlyle Ince has instilled discipline and a hard work ethic since his arrival. There’s certainly a steelier look about them in the first half. The defence appears to have found a backbone.



Sticky’s favourite, ‘Rocky’ Ravenhill is patrolling the middle of the park. He tops the roll call with 20 appearances this season and also the disciplinary charts with 9 bookings and a sending off. He makes it double figures with a caution for persistent foul play.

MK Dons don’t look particularly interested in attacking Notts. Aaron Wilbraham cuts a lonely figure in their forward line. He has a fine first touch for a big fella and can hold up play. He also receives a yellow card for leaving a flailing elbow into Mike Edwards’ upper torso.

Neal Bishop lacks the composure to put the Pies one to the good, he blazes horribly wide from a good position. He sinks to his knees, with exasperation all over his face.

The much coveted Magpies’ midfielder Ben Davies has had 48 shots at goal this season, 29 have been on target. He races onto a Mike Edwards through ball but is thwarted by a fine stop from Dons’ ‘keeper David Martin.



Notts will rue those missed chances at the break but Ince will be encouraged by a 20 minute spell of attractive, high tempo football. NS treats me to a coffee – it’s stone cold, apparently the machine was on the blink.

I have a flick through the superb matchday programme. I looking for the Colin Slater column as he often has something interesting to say. He’s a big admirer, like I am, of York City manager Gary Mills. He has just been made Manager of the Month in the Blue Square Bet Conference. Don’t rule out a late charge for the play-offs.

I have a quick chat with my boss Mick. The youth team have had a run out at Loughborough University this morning. They are due to play Liverpool on Wednesday evening in a FA Youth Cup 3rd round tie.

The second half is drab and dreary. Both sides give away possession cheaply. With 15 minutes to go Wilbraham slings another elbow out and is asked to take an early bath.



The Dons manager who has been laughing and joking with the crowd starts moaning at the fourth official. He dressed more for a round of golf than to coach a football team. He wears a sweater, a Simon Cowell collar up shirt, trousers and shoes.

Ince’s final throw of the dice is to throw on his lad Thomas and the prolific Lee Hughes. Young Ince’s impact on the game is instant. He seizes upon a poor clearance and rifles home a shot from the edge of the box.

Five minutes later it’s game, set and match to the Pies with a sublime, curling shot from Hughes which bags all three points.

Attendance: 5172 (322 from Milton Keynes)

Man of the Match: Mike Edwards