Gresley Rovers 2-2 Heanor Town

It's Thursday 7th April and I'm hanging around that infamous bus stop outside the Fox and Grapes ('Peggers' in old money) in Sneinton.  Let's not forget folks, it's the scene of the oldest unsolved murder in Nottingham. The Landlord of 'Pretty Windows' was found dead at the very spot where I now stand, back in 1963. 

I'm on my way home to rustle up another award-winning supper, after a couple of scoops in Junkyard and Neon Raptor. A mum and daughter rock up at the bus stop. The young girl is carrying an ice hockey stick - the rink, where Nottingham Panthers play, is within my view. Mum fishes her mobile from out of her handbag. She talks out loud to her daughter: "I'm going to Google who Craig David is"

I begin to feel light-headed, break out into a sweat, as the red mist begins to descend. Me 'n David have got previous. My old budgie, Murphy Palmer (a nasty piece of work when he'd got it on him) and Sticky Palms used to terror the Southampton-supporting RnB DJ and Rapper on his Twitter account - I think we finally got blocked.

Murphy insisted that a towel was to be placed over his cage if David ever appeared on Top of the Pops 2 or Ken Bruce, such was the young budgie's disdain for his music. I stare at the billboards just around the corner. Christ on a bike, Craig David is appearing at Nottingham Arena tonight - 3-2-1- I'm Walking Away straight onto the Carlton No.27 bus. 

I've managed to watch a few games at the 'World Famous City Ground' this week. Jack and Joe swerve the FA Youth Cup semi-final game versus Chelsea on Monday evening. I have tea with 'Daddy Shanks' from the Marketing dept and 'Big Al' (not the clown who bought Notts County) from Sales. 

We're seated in the Brian Clough Lower. I'm sat next to Keyworth legend Mick Widdowson, who belts out the lyrics to 'Mull of Kintyre' despite it being a crowd just shy of 4000. Ideagen PLC, CEO, Ben Dorks sits close by - the software company sponsor the youth set up at Nottingham Forest.

It's nip 'n tuck in the first half, with lots of energy but not much doing. The game springs to life in the second half. Chelsea take the lead from a looping, deflected shot, following a training ground short corner routine, which catches the Forest young 'uns napping.

Despite their best efforts the Tricky Trees look out for the count. An incredible last eight minutes of football sees Forest score three times. Leicester-born Detlef Esapa Osong will take the plaudits for his brace of goals, but the whole team, to a man, are immense. The right back is 15-years-old and still yet to take his GCSE'S. Manchester United away at Old Trafford, in the final, is their reward.

I rustle up king prawns and egg fried rice for tea on Wednesday evening. I jump off the bus opposite Nottingham Arena. It's a blustery evening, with conditions not conducive for fast-flowing football. I'm seated in my favourite spot, 'B' Block in the Peter Taylor Stand.

Expectations are set for another win, as NFFC chase down AFC Bournemouth. Coventry City prove to be a tough nut to crack. Forest take an age to get going, but once they do, the opposition are run off the pitch. Brennan Johnson can do no wrong. He bundles the ball over the line for the first goal. Jimmy Garner, in the form of his life, wallops home the second with his left peg, to get Forest over the line. Fireworks are let off by Eva's Grill at the end of the game as Depeche Mode belts out of the stadium PA system.

Tony Mac is sidelined on Friday evening. His missus is down in Torquay watching Notts County. Mac is on 'babysitting' duties. Ms Moon is drafted in as a replacement. I've already had a couple of stiff craft ales in Bunkers Hill as well as can of Resist, a chocolate and beetroot stout, in Raptor, where 100% of the profits are to go to the Red Cross, who are helping out with the war effort in Ukraine and on the border with Poland. We spend a few pleasant hours in Sneinton winding down for the weekend.

It's Saturday morning. I'm browsing through my Gordon Ramsay Quick Recipe Book. This can only mean one thing: there'll be loads of swearing and shouting in the kitchen this evening. I have to nip down to the hell hole that is called Carlton Tesco to buy all the ingredients. Ms Moon makes a sandwich for lunch before we head out the door towards Derbyshire.

Rightly or wrongly I'd heard that Gresley FC might be leaving their wonderful old Moat Ground in the near future. I've visited twice in the last 20 years. Its sloping playing surface is one to die for. Radio 2's Pick of the Pops is on. Gambacinni is playing the Top 20 from 1983. Kajagoogoo's 'Ooh to Be Ah' is at No.7 in the hit parade. It's an old terrace chant from the Trent End "Ooh to be a Midlander.'

We hit the village of Church Gresley in 50 minutes, parking on a sidestreet a five-minute walk away from the ground. Ms Moon and I take a short stroll through the Maurice Lea Memorial Park. It has a football pitch, bowls club, tennis courts and an impressive bandstand.

It's £7.50 on the gate, £2 for a programme and a couple more quid for some golden goal tickets. The ground is at its jaw-dropping best, with all its nooks and crannies. We stand on the far side. Gresley need four more points for promotion. Their only defeat, the entire season, was against Heanor, a club I have enjoyed visiting many, many times.

Gresley storm into an early two goal lead. Heanor are never out of the game and pull back a goal on the stroke of half-time. I fancied their chances at 2-0 down as they constantly cause havoc and create opportunities. Ms Moon has already ripped up her golden goal tickets and is having a wee sulk.

I get chatting to the dad of Heanor Town midfielder Max Thornberry. He's a lovely bloke. He tells me about Max's 8-year stint at the Nottingham Forest Academy. I think folk forget how parents have to ferry kids to academies 3-4 times a week as their child chases the dream. He was in the same age group as Ben Brereton and a year below star midfielder Ryan Yates (more on him later).

Heanor's Kyle Daley bags his second goal of the game with another great finish, following a cracking move. The game peters out somewhat but has still been brilliant entertainment for the neutral and the 452 who have rocked up.

Ms Moon flicks on the Grand National on the car radio. Yesterday I placed 3x small bets for myself. Ms Moon piped up that she'd like two £5 each way selections (claimed she meant £2.50 e/w after the event). I've had a massive £1.50 e/w on Noble Yeates (pronounced the same as Ryan Yates but spelt differently, obvs). 

Ms Moon's bottom lip is wobbling and her eyes are welling up with tears as her horse has hit the deck at the second fence. Her other horse has barely been mentioned. Yeatesy storms home at 50/1. Somehow Ms Moon's horse sneaks home in 5th place. I have to payout £21 winnings to the good lady.

I'm up and at 'em first thing on Sunday morning. 'The Keyworth Georgie Best' is playing against Clifton Mad Squad at Gresham Playing Fields on Wilford Lane. I catch a bus to town, dive into the nearest Greggs for a sausage and bacon cob before jumping on the No.1 bus. KGB is warming-up (having a fag) as I wander up to the pitch.

I saw CMS get schooled by Poets Young Boys a few weeks ago in a cup semi-final Their League form is Played 13 and Won 13, with a goal difference of +78. Quite a few lads have rolled up to support the underdogs. Duds, Stolly, Sizzers and 'Our Joe' are in attendance. The banter is vicious and not going down too well with CMS who are under pressure to produce. They take the lead but are pegged back by a sublime finish from 'Hollywood' with a header that wouldn't look out of place a lot higher up the leagues. 

I take a look at another game on the adjacent pitch. Former Lincoln City and Notts County winger Terry Hawkridge is playing for Nottingham Legends. I loved Terry when he was with the Imps. He makes everything look so easy. By the time I return to KGB's game, they are dead and buried at 3-1. Final score is 4-2 - they've gave them a run for their money.

Man of the Match: Jake Carlisle, Heanor Town

Attendance 452

Man of the Match 2nd game:  Jack Kibble, Beeston Mariners heart of a lion.