Barnsley 0-1 Lincoln City

It's Tuesday, 25th Oct. I'm sat in a carriage on the EMR 13.45 from Nottingham to Barnsley. They must rate as one of the most underperforming rail operators in the U.K. Actually they aren't, but folk have short memories. Turn the clock back to May 2022 when they hung out to dry those poor Tricky Trees fans on their big day out to Wembley. Taking money from passengers, and then not giving two hoots when not enough carriages were put on. One customer service person had to break the news to the thousands of queuing fans that EMR had mucked up. Another gripe I have is that their ageing rolling stock doesn't have power points or a reliable Wi-Fi connection.

Anyway, I digress. The Mighty Lincoln (1,231) are descending on the town of Barnsley, in the Republic of South Yorkshire. The Imps are on a roll. Big players have returned to the squad, free from injury. I change at Sheffield and hop onto a proper train, government-owned Northern Rail have got the lot including some beady-eyed ticket inspectors. Two passengers are caught red-handed without a ticket. They are fined £20 on the spot and have to pay for their fare too. I peer over my Shankill Butchers book and start to giggle at the pathetic excuses they give the guard for not buying a ticket. Our man from Northern is having none of it.

I want to pay my respects to another Busby Babe whose life was cruelly and tragically taken away on Feb 6th, 1958 in the Munich Air Disaster. Two of the players were from Barnsley - one of them is Tommy Taylor, who was laid to rest at Monk Bretton Cemetery, a two mile walk from the station. I pass a sea of ugly, soulless, characterless retail parks on the way to pay my respects. 

The final mile is uphill and leaves me sweating and gasping for air. Tommy Taylor scored 159 goals in 237 appearances for Barnsley, Manchester United and England. A blue plaque was unveiled by the former umpire Dickie Bird, a school friend of Taylor's, in 2011, at the lodgings where all the United players stayed at in Stretford.

I feel really sad on my walk back into Barnsley town centre. I noticed that Taylor's mother died aged 61 and that his brother also passed away at the age of 46 years old. You're never going to get over that sort of loss, are you?

I have a mooch around Oakwell, home to the Tykes, so I can familiarise myself with the area. I have visited the ground on two occasions - in 1987 with freelance photographer Robert Rathbone, for an FA Cup replay versus Caernarfon Town and in 1992 for a League Two game versus Wolves.

I slog it back uphill into town. I visit the statue of Billy Casper holding the kestrel from the film Kes. I took Ms Moon on a tour of where the film was shot. It included the common where Billy trained the bird and the chip shop, in Hoyland. There is also a blue plaque on a pub wall honouring the local actor Brian Glover, who plays the PE teacher in the film, whilst dressed up as Bobby Charlton.

It's a Greggs pepperoni pizza for tea, washed down with a pint of local bitter from the Acorn Brewery at the wonderful pub, Old No.7. I take my seat in the East Stand with the home fans. 'The Lincoln' always seem to win when I use this tactic, and the view is better than where the visiting fans are housed, behind the goal. The DJ's set isn't a patch on Carlton Town's. The guy does play a few good 'uns from Fat Boy Slim, Elbow and Swiss electronic band, Yello.

I've a few moaning Minnies sat around me. The glass is half empty. Can't say I blame them, to be honest, as Barnsley are bloody awful. Lincoln grow into the game, their impressive on loan winger, Jack Diamond, from Sunderland, strikes the base of the post, following a mazy run, after latching onto a superb ball thrown out by alert 'keeper Carl Rushworth. The Imps take the lead with a stunning goal from Danny Mandroiu, with Diamond once again heavily involved. Former League of Ireland player, Mandroiu has caught the eye (my good one) and looks a steal from Shamrock Rovers.

The second half follows a familiar pattern. Lincoln play a beautiful passing game, that falls short with the final ball. My stomach churns and aches as the minutes go slowly by. We see the game out easily during the five minutes added time. I walk briskly back to the station to be greeted by the Barnsley Big Baby Squad on the opposite side of the platform. They've got some brass neck to rock up after a sub standard performance like that. Their taunts and insults are ignored by the Imps fans. I travel home smiling from ear to ear. Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, jingle all the way, oh what fun it is to see Lincoln win away.

I continue my walk around the old pit villages on Thursday morning. I chance across a CAMRA Heritage pub in Woodthorpe a few miles outside the city centre, called The Vale. I down a diet Coke as I admire the structure. I stroll up to Bestwood Country Park, dropping onto a bridal path that takes me down to the village and the pit memorial where the winding wheel stands. I glance at the old South Notts Coal Board offices opposite the Welfare, where I spent my first day at work in September 1981. You can't beat a trip down memory lane. It fills my soul with happiness.

There's no pub meet up with Tony Mac on Friday night. The blog legend is down 'the Smoke' watching punk rock band The Damned. I blow a gasket from my armchair. That Al bloke off Emmerdale has pulled more women than Georgie Best. He has the worst chat up lines on earth, and his acting skills aren't much cop either. This is followed by Corrie which features that irritable 11 year-old little know-it-all, Sam Blakeman. The last time I saw the spoilt, little brat he was bound, gagged and in the boot of a drug dealer's car heading towards, hopefully, the Manchester Ship Canal. He somehow wriggled his way out of it. 

It's 8.30 a.m. on Saturday. Ms Moon and I drive to Copper Cafe up on Mapperley Tops. We've had many a fine breakfast up here when it was part of the Great Northern Group. Ms Moon's poached eggs are firm and not runny and my sausage cob isn't all that. Standards have dropped since being acquired by Redcat Pub Company. We won't be bothering again, anytime soon.

I wave off Ms Moon just before lunch. She is spending time with her sisters and brother at a spa in Northamptonshire to celebrate the life of her mother, who passed away in September. I've a couple of games to go to today. 'The Keyworth Georgie Best' (my lad) is playing for Keyworth Ressies, a fifteen minute walk from my crib, at Burton Road Jubilee Park, against Greyfriars - the artist formally known as Netherfield Seniors. It's a ground I need to tick off.

They're kicking off as I walk over the main road. I'm alarmed there is no Josh Stolworthy in the Keyworth starting line up. The 27 year old is a man mountain of a centre-half. They miss his imperious, dominant presence. In a battle you'd want him by your side. At any other club, such as Dunkirk or Clifton All Whites, where they give youth a chance, he would have made over 300 first team appearances by now. Circumstances currently prevent this from happening. 

Honours are even at the break although the Keyworth managers aren't happy with the performance or by some of the backchat. I wouldn't argue with the referee, who has been excellent by the way. He's harder than any player on the pitch and will probably be running the doors at a pub in town later.

'The KGB' isn't getting the rub of the green. He shines on a wider pitch, when in space. He somehow ends up at right-back when Keyworth have to chase the game at 3-1 down. It's 3-2 in the end and a deserved victory for Greyfriars. The lads retire to the pub whilst Dafty drops me on Stoke Lane outside Carlton Town's ground. His Son, Will (my Godson) has been a colossus in the last 20 minutes.

The Millers are deadlocked at 0-0 against the seaside town of Cleethorpes. I bump into 'friends to the stars', Jitz Jani. I mistakenly thought he was on the sauce in north London prior to NFFC's visit to 'The Arsenal' tomorrow lunchtime. He's chatting to former Forest legend Ian Storey-Moore. 

Dan Thorpe is playing a Northern Soul set in the clubhouse. The tunes are outstanding. You can't beat a Hammond organ. I stand with him and Nige in the second half. Carlton are chasing the game after going a goal down on 80 minutes. There's a melee close to the dugouts. It doesn't look all that. A player from both teams are shown the red card. There's an extraordinary goalmouth scramble in the dying embers which results in Brad Wells poking home a last gasp equaliser.

I run down the road and board the No.26 bus which drops me close to home. I shower up and change, putting on my best Adidas Hamburg trainers. I neck a couple of craft ales at Neon Raptor. I'm joined by the Horsburgh family. I tip Jay the wink on some good watering holes in Liverpool, as he's going to the races there next weekend.

I hook up with Dringy, his two lads and Jitz at The Dragon on Angel Row. We end the evening at some swanky cocktail bar called Six Richmond House, on Hurt's Yard.. It's where Jitz drinks with his rich and famous friends. He knows it'll be too pretentious for me. But every cloud has a silver lining. The bar sells craft IPA.

We can't 'arf pick 'em.

Player of the Match 10 Jacket for Greyfriars

Tividale 1-1 Radford (Tivi won 3-1 on Pens)

It's 5 a.m. on Sat, 2nd July, 2022. I'm in a taxi on my way up to Ripley, to a bloke's house ('Smiffy') - a Non League legend, who I've never met before. I'm shattered folks. I landed at East Midlands Airport yesterday afternoon, after a week away in Puerto Pollensa, in northern Majorca. I've overindulged in craft ales, gins, red wine and tapas. I'm fat, tired, mardy and irritated. I need to up my game, as I'm stepping out for 26 miles, later, for charity.

Let's 'Re-Rewind', as that Herbert, Craig David, would say. It's April 2022. I'm sat in the Bread and Bitter on Mapperley Tops with two die-hard Nottingham Forest supporters (Peachy and Pete). It's the first time we've been acquainted, We do have something in common though. By fate, chance and misfortune we stood close to one another at Hillsborough, 33 years ago. 97 people lost their lives that day. It became one of Britain's biggest ever cover-ups. Margaret Thatcher, South Yorkshire Police and that scum of a red top daily tabloid, that I can't bring myself to say, colluded and hatched a plot to firmly lay the blame on the supporters of Liverpool. Add to that the corrupt involvement of the West Midlands Police Force, with altered, fabricated and falsified statements.

Astonishingly, those bungling, incompetent fools at the FA insisted that the game should be replayed. Don't forget it was this joke of a governing body that chose the game would be played at Hillsborough - a stadium that was dangerous, with a history of near-miss incidents, a stadium whose safety certificate was 'very out of date.' Never forget that they got away scot free!

The reason we are all together in the pub is that a group of Nottingham Forest supporters are looking to raise monies for the Hillsborough Survivors Supporters Alliance. Funds need to be raised for private therapy for people affected by the events of that awful day - this includes folk from Nottingham too. To date this has changed 117 lives with a 98% success rate.

Despite being overcast, the air is humid and the heat stifling as we begin the sponsored walk from Anfield Stadium, adjacent to the Hillsborough Memorial, which breaks my heart when I stand and stare silently at it, 'Smiffy' and Martin point out that a young lad they knew of, from Swanwick, Derbyshire, was amongst those who lost their lives. He was just 18 years old. 

The walk is amazing and humbling too. Cars constantly hoot and toot us, in an effort to raise our spirits, as the heat intensifies. We pass Everton's wonderful old ground, Goodison Park, and one of Sticky's faves, Marine FC, up in Crosby. We stop for refreshments and go again, this time up to Aintree Racecourse and into Kirkby where Liverpool's state of the art training ground is located. We finish at Arkles pub, close to Anfield. 26 miles in total are chalked up on my Strava app. I celebrate with the group. It's a wonderful, emotional and tear-jerking moment. The Nottingham branch are led by Pete. He is an amazing, driven and passionate human being. Our small group have raised £2000 #RIP97 - well done to Ness and Michael too.

Fast forward to last Saturday. Carlton Town have let a two goal lead slip. I chance upon the referee's assessor in the car park. He's already having his ear chewed off by an angry Millers' supporter. The question is should Sheffield FC's 'keeper have been sent off for wiping out an attacker and conceding a penalty? According to the assessor the answer is NO. I zip up my gob (I've had two pints) and make a hasty exit. I'm still sulking an hour later as I try to relax in the Old Volunteer pub on Burton Road.

Sunday morning is spent with blog legend 'The Big Man' on the banks of the Trent and in the Stratford Haven public house in West Bridgford. We stop briefly on the Trent Embankment to view Poets Young Boys dishing out a walloping. Former NFFC striker, David Johnson, father of Brennan, is amongst the spectators. 'The Big Man' orders an Uber, as he has to be home for the Emmerdale Farm 50th anniversary special. Apparently there's a big storm brewing. It's called Cain Dingle. I retire to the armchair and read late into the night a case study of The Shankill Butchers - obvs I toss and turn all night and have bad dreams.

It's Monday and I'm on the train to York to see my brother for a few days. We enjoy teatime scoops at Star in the City and one of York's finest hostelries, House of Trembling Madness. It has craft ales to die for. I'm like a kid in a sweet shop. I book the Tony Mac Friday Club Christmas Party in York for December 16th.

My bro and I spend a day walking up in Ripon at Fountains Abbey, a National Trust owned ruined Cistercian monastery. We lunch at the Sawley Arms where a 12oz gammon steak is polished off with a North Yorkshire pale ale. I arrive home in time to cut and scarify the lawn ahead of the incessant rain.

Thursday evening is spent in the Long Room at Trent Bridge Cricket Ground pavilion. I hook up with 'Drurs', who I shared a dressing room with at Keyworth Cricket Club. There are two speakers tonight. The first is a fascinating talk on other sports played at the cricket ground, which includes some touching anecdotes and crowd participation. 

The second speaker is 'one of our own', 23 year-old all-rounder Liam Patterson-White, who, just today, has learnt of his call up to an England Lions training\ camp in the UAE. He's so engaging and talks openly. 'Drurs' asks Liam who is the fastest bowler he's ever faced. Notts' new signing Ollie Stone is the answer. We finish the night off at the Fox and Grapes in Sneinton. The 1961 murder of the landlord remains unsolved.

It hoses it down for most of Friday. The coast is clear at just gone 6 p.m. It's a no beer day today - I don't want to end up as a bitter and twisted member of the Ryan Yates Beer Goggle Brigade, who claim he shouldn't be 'anywhere near the first team' at NFFC, despite another POTM accolade. 

I'm at one of Ryan's old clubs, Notts County, where that clown of an owner, at the time, Alan Hardy, bad-mouthed the Tricky Trees on social media during Yates' loan spell. It was catastrophic and Kamikaze from old motormouth-  resulting in Yates being ordered back over the water and then being shipped out to Scunthorpe United. The rest is history. The oldest Football League Club in the world were confined to Conference Football, on Hardy's watch. Three managers in one season. What a palava.

The DJ is playing 'Friday I'm in Love' by The Cure, as I take my seat in the Derek Pavis Stand, accompanied by Keyworth United legend Alan Jackson. The NFFC DJ should take note of this, as I've caught him out playing 'Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting' on a Friday evening, Sunday lunchtime and a Monday night game.

A massive shout out to the 279 hardy souls from Maidstone who have made the 350 mile round trip in testing and trying conditions. Their team don't give them too much to cheer about, planting 11 men behind the ball. 'The Non League Haaland', Macaulay Langstaff, has already seen a goal chalked off and fresh-aired a sitter before he opens the scoring. The impressive Ruben Rodrigues nets a beauty before fluffing a spot kick. Cedwyn Scott puts the game to bed, helping manager Luke Williams rest up a few weary legs ahead of Tuesday's trip to Wealdstone. I notice that Lincoln City's chief scout is in attendance.

It's Saturday 11 a.m. and I'm standing outside Laguna Tandoori, on Mount Street with Faggsy and Kimberley Al. A car comes haring around the corner, 'Crazy Steve' is behind the wheel. Today folks, we're ticking off three Heritage pubs in the West Midlands and taking in Tividale v Radford, in a FA Vase cup tie. Thankfully 'Crazy' turns off Capital FM on the car radio; it's for the best.

'Crazy' weaves in and out of traffic on the A50 and A5 before we roll into the car park of the Manor Arms, in Rushall. The pub is a beauty and the landlady is dead friendly and engaging. We quaff a real ale, before stop number 2, the Horse and Jockey at Wednesbury. The red-bricked building looks lovely from the outside, but the interior is spoilt with tables from what looks like a works' canteen. Faggs, Crazy and Al are massive Pies fans. They nearly choke on their ale when NFFC take the lead against Liverpool.

Our final call is the Waggon and Horses in Oldbury, close to WBA's ground. The pub is a gem and a worthy entry in CAMRA Heritage Guide. The lads are bitterly disappointed (seething tbh) to see the Tricky Trees secure three points. One of them says there will be a open-top double decker bus parade around Nottingham City centre this evening. There will be a sigh of relief at Eva's Grill on Radcliffe Road. They've been stockpiling the fireworks since the win against West Ham back in August.

It's £7 on the gate at 'Tivvy.' A below strength Radford are caught napping in the opening minutes. They grow into the match and play a beautiful game with crowd favourite (and Sticky's) Joe Meakin pulling all the strings. They equalise near half time through Jordan Alls with Tivvy down to ten men, as the ref has sin-binned a player for mouthing-off.

Radford control the game for long periods in the second half, although Tivvy are dangerous on the turnaround. Alls sees an effort come back off the woodwork, Jebbison hits the rebound narrowly wide. Scott 'Tank' Lichfield looked to have grabbed a winner, drawing a fine save from the 'keeper.

The young referee has made a song and dance of everything. His game management is appalling. He takes an age to sort out the slightest kerfuffle. It's clear to all and sundry that he's out of his depth. A Radford player is sent off for a clear handball, what is unclear is whether it's in the penalty area or not. The player is shown a red card before the ref consults his assistant and points to the spot. His skin is saved and so is the penalty.

 

The Pheasants bow out of the Vase on penalties. They can't 'arf feel hard done by. 

Player of the Match Joe Meakin

Thanks for driving 'Crazy', top navigating Fags and welcome to the blog 'Kimberley Al.'

Carlton Town 2-4 Sheffield FC

There was no football last weekend for Sticky Palms. I had a long standing engagement with friends in the Staffordshire town of Leek. I'm unsure whether Leek Town were at home, but it was never under consideration due to it being a 3G playing surface - cough  ... I don't do 3G. Ms Moon didn't feel up to travelling. She had to finalise arrangements with family for her mother's funeral, this coming Friday.

It was a lovely weekend away. We took a boat trip on Rudyard Lake (who the author Rudyard Kipling was named after) and climbed 400 metres up Hen Cloud, a prominent rocky ridge, with sweeping views of the countryside. Apparently, on a sunny day you can see as far as Liverpool Cathedral - not with my 'mince pies' you can't. I couldn't even see local legend, Stanley Victor Collymore, 'walking his dog.'

We finished the weekend off with Sunday lunch at the glorious Spirits Vaults, in the village of Melbourne, where the travel agent Thomas Cook was born. It was a proper treat for me as they had 12x craft ales on. I supped a couple of Shiny Brewery's finest; they're based in Little Eaton, just outside D***y.

It's Monday evening, with sun-kissed skies in hilly Carlton. I make the long trek down Carlton Road and over the water into the leafy suburb of West Bridgford, where I have, over the years, had mixed fortunes. I've arranged to meet 'Our Joe' and ex work son Alex in a cocktail bar (not my bag obvs) called The Botanist. My old boss and managing director also rock up prior to the game between Nottingham Forest and Aston Villa. I only have a pint and a half as I like to view the game with a sober mind.

I take my seat in the Lower Brian Clough Stand. The Villa fans are spitting distance away (not that any of that will be going off). NFFC manager Steve Cooper is still proper under the cosh. The Greek owners are making a dog's dinner of it; particularly Maranakis junior, who some say is running the show at aged 23 years old.

It's a solid enough performance from the Tricky Trees, with Yates and Freuler impressing in the middle of the park. Villa flatter to deceive with their flicks and tricks that have no end product. Philippe Coutinho flits in and out of the game, looking a pale shadow of his former self. The Brazilian is hooked just after the hour. The second half is turgid and boring. 1-1 doesn't suit either team. The visitors are booed off by their own fans.

The most entertaining part of the game was at half time, when Nottinghamshire cricketer, Luke Fletcher, who was sat next to me, paraded the County Championship 2nd Division trophy around the ground. He's my favourite Notts cricketer and such a funny bloke. I can't wait for his benefit season in 2023.

I'm pegging it again on Tuesday evening, this time in the opposite direction. Carlton Town are playing Grantham Town. I don't have to part with any cash at the turnstile as I've invested in a season ticket this season. I join Jitz Jani, a die hard Red and the most feared man on social media, particularly if he gets stuck into you on Twitter. I decide to swerve mentioning Notts' wicket keeper Tom Moores, as he'll go off on one.

Grantham with a forward line of Nathan Tyson, Lee Shaw and Kieran Hayes are running the Millers ragged. The game has already gone by 70 minutes. Jitz introduces me to a dead interesting guy called Dan Thorpe. The Club is full of like-minded people, who want to volunteer, make a difference and contribute towards the supporters experience. Dan is a history teacher at an inner city Nottingham school. He shares his passion on this subject with me. I'm fascinated. He also shows me a bookmark on his phone from 2013. It's some stupid blog called The Groundhopper. 

My face lights up and I feel as proud as punch that he's read this waffle for all those years.Dan contributes to a new-look programme that is edited by Joe Standen. I promise to buy one at the weekend as they have sold out tonight. Dan is also doing a Northern Soul DJ set during the Cleethorpes game in a few weeks time. I say I'll swing by as I'm watching 'The Keyworth Georgie Best' at Burton Road Jubilee Park when his team take on Greyfriars in an early kick off.

It's Wednesday afternoon and guess what? I'm walking back to West Bridgford again. Trent Bridge Cricket Ground is hosting the Nottingham Robin Hood Beer and Cider Festival. I'm not a fan of the venue for the festival. The concourses are narrow and everything is shoe-horned in. I have a good laugh with a few Carlton Town fans I bump into and end up supping Bang the Elephant and Lenton Lane brews in the pavilion with one of my besties, Coops.

I'm in a particularly vile mood on Thursday morning: it's two-fold. I have to walk past a road 30 yards from our crib that won £1,000 on yesterday's People's Postcode Lottery, whilst on the same trip a visit is required to the worst supermarket in British history: Carlton Tesco. 

I'm like a coiled spring as I bolt through the shop front doors. I usually have to bollock someone in the store for one thing or another. Most of the staff are as miserable as sin and bloody unhelpful too. I once boycotted the store for two weeks having been subjected to 7 Days by Craig David on Radio Tesco during a particularly long, painful queue at the tills. It was the 12" version too. I end up storming out the shop when I find out for the umpteenth time that there's no sliced haslet in the meat section. Robin Tuxford butchers in Netherfield saves the day.

It's Friday and it has been an awfully long week for Sue. We're laying her mum, Valerie. to rest today at St John the Baptist Church, in Colwick. I'm so proud of her as she addresses the mourners with some beautiful memories of growing up with her mum. It takes a lot of courage and guts to do this when the grief is still so raw. The burial takes place at Tithe Green, just outside the old mining village of Calverton.

An extraordinary event happens at the wake that's being held at the Railway Inn, in Lowdham. Someone tries to pull Ms Moon. I'm nursing a pint of real ale and talking to Sue when some Hillbilly emerges from the bar and approaches the good lady. He asks if she's taken as his mate wants to take her out. He gets the death stare from Sticky Palms, about turns and scuttles back from where he came, to deliver the bad news to his scaredy-cat mate.

It's Saturday lunchtime. I wish I'd washed the pots rather than watch a dull as dishwater first half between Leicester City and Crystal Palace. I pull the French window door to and head down to Stoke Lane for my Saturday afternoon football fix.

Sheffield FC, the oldest club in the world, are today's visitors. I pay £2 for a programme that's mightily impressive. The DJ set is once again immense. 'Smalltown Boy' by Bronski Beat echoes around the ground as I do a customary lap of the stadium.

Former Nottingham Forest forward John O'Hare is today's guest speaker. Head of Marketing, Gary 'Boatsy' Clarke works tirelessly hard to secure the services of ex pro footballers. O'Hare famously won NFFC a penalty in a League Cup final replay, back in 1978, versus Liverpool at Old Trafford. It appeared that the offence happened a yard or so outside the penalty area. O'Hare recalls, 25 years later, that he arrived at Anfield on a scouting mission for Martin O'Neill, the then Leicester City manager. Having asked where he could park his car, he was told by the gateman "f**k off O'Hare, you're not welcome in Liverpool." ... LOL

The Millers look to have dusted themselves down from Tuesday's loss. Assisted by a stiff breeze they race into a two goal lead. It could be said that the visiting 'keeper is a lucky lad not to see Red after pole-axing O'Connor and conceding a penalty. He's judged to have tried to win the ball fairly. It's a decision that is up for debate in the clubhouse at half-time. Sheffield FC have pulled a goal back too, with a thumping volley from range.

I do a little jig of delight when I see that the Red Imps are 1-0 up at League leaders Ipswich Town. Notts County are 2-1 down to Step 3 club Coalville Town in the FA Cup. Two Nottingham lads, Luke Shaw and Tim Berridge are in Coalville's starting line-up.

Carlton aren't at the races in the second half. The demise and fallout is a bitter pill to swallow, as I watch from the clubhouse steps, accompanied by Dan, Nigel and Joe. I'd question the personality of a few of the players, who seem more interested in the unsavoury side of the game, rather than rolling up their sleeves and trying to win the battle. It finishes 4-2 in the end as the visitors are roared onto victory by their vociferous following.

The referee has had a 'Weston' (Super-Mare). He's never gained control and has faffed around for most of the afternoon, taking an age to sort 'handbags' out (you can't say that anymore can you?) He's dished out more cards than Postman Pat. 

Men and Women of the match - all the great volunteers at Carlton Town FC

Attendance: 148

Notts County 1-0 Wrexham

Do you recognise the picture of the footballer above? He was a 28 year-old striker reaching the peak of his career. I've been listening to a brilliant, but incredibly sad BBC podcast called Transfer: The Emiliano Sala Story. It takes you back to January 2019 when the Argentinian striker had completed a transfer move from Nantes to Cardiff City, who were managed by Neil Warnock at the time. A plane was chartered by banned (at the time) agent Willie McKay. The pilot and Sala both died in tragic circumstances as the Piper Malbu, a defective, rickety old plane, crashed into the English Channel close to Guernsey. 

The podcast uncovers a number of catastrophic aviation breaches of law. The pilot, David Ibbotson, a gas fitter and part-time DJ, from Scunthorpe, didn't have a commercial flying license, which meant he shouldn't be carrying a paying passenger or be allowed to fly after dusk. The plane had a number of faults that were never fixed. Carbon monoxide fumes were found in the cockpit. Blame fell squarely at the feet of David Henderson, the organiser of the flight, who was reckless and negligent. He was found guilty and sent to prison for 18 months.McKay's involvement in the deal and arrangement of the subsequent flight is put under heavy scrutiny by the BBC. 

McKay's son, Mark, stood to make 10% from the £15 million deal. McKay senior, due to bankruptcy, was banned for five years from acting as an intermediary - so the question is why was he involved? And why use a cowboy outfit to transport a multi-million pound player on a clapped out old plane. Take a listen folks, it's a compelling, gripping and an emotional production by the BBC team.

It's Saturday 1st October. I jump in Dringy's car on Green Lane, Clifton. All-Whites have been tonked 4-1 by Big Glenn's Radford FC. Dringy asks if I'm going to a new pub called the William Gunn, on Radcliffe Road, adjacent to Trent Bridge Cricket Ground - I have an issue with the name of the pub - let me explain.

William Gunn was born in St Ann's in 1858 and played one game for Nottingham Forest. He later moved to Notts County where he made 28 appearances (three in the League) before retiring from football to concentrate on cricket, where he was capped for England 11x times, as well as making 521 First Class appearances for Nottinghamshire County Cricket Club. He is one of only 13x players to be capped for his country at football and cricket. He was the 'Rory Delap' of his time, until his enormous throw-in was outlawed. So what's my (our) issue then?

It's the end of play between Notts and Sussex in a County Championship game at Trent Bridge. I'm sat with a gaggle of Notts County supporters. Someone pipes up that they fancy a mooch over the road to tick a new pub off called the William Gunn - forgot to mention he was also the founder of Gunn and Moore bats too.

The decor inside is nice enough, although I'm disappointed to hear the news that they only have one cask ale on. There's some cricketing memorabilia adorning the walls and lots of Nottingham Forest photos too. But something is missing readers. 'Crazy Steve' picks up on this and joshes with the pub manager. Why no photos of Notts County? 

We're palmed off with 'it's a pub south of the river' and that the owners are staunch NFFC supporters. Why not call it the Tricky Tree or The Garibaldi? I try to compromise on behalf of the Pies and ask if they can put a photo up of County's legendary manager Jimmy Sirrel. The offer is declined. "Ok love, I'm sneaking in a portrait of Neil Warnock then."

It's Sunday morning and Ms Moon is packing a suitcase, as she's going away for a few days to her brother's in Brighton. It's been a sad time for us all, with the sudden and unexpected loss of Sue's Mum, Val. She was a lovely kind soul who always made me very welcome. Val had a wicked sense of humour and will be sorely missed. It will leave a massive hole in Sue's life, that only time can heal. Rest in peace Val x

The only time I leave the house on Sunday is to put the rubbish out. I knock a blog up for the first time in nearly six months whilst watching Man City dish out a walloping to neighbours 'United.' England do the same to Pakistan in the final game of a rubber of 7x T20 games, to win the series 4-3.

It's Monday evening and we're half an hour away from 'El Sackio' (Leicester v Forest). Both teams are on a horrible run of form. You would say it all points to a score draw - it couldn't be further from the truth. I crank up the stove and prepare an award-winning cajun sausage pasta, as James Maddison curls a delicious free kick past Dean Henderson to put the result beyond doubt.

The second half of Coronation Street hasn't even started yet. It seems like Steve Cooper is to become the victim of his own success. The Greeks look like they are about to make a pig's ear out of it. They got lucky with Cooper and should give him the season to turn things around as it's obvious that signings have been made without his approval.

It's Tuesday evening and I'm on the No.27 bus that's making its way to the bottom of Carlton Road I'm off to take a peek at Notts County for the first time this season. A lot of noise is being made about their exciting brand of football. I'll have a bird's eye view, even with my 'mincers', as I sit perched in the Derek Pavis Stand, bang level with the halfway line. Almost 2000 Wrexham fans have made the long journey from North Wales.

The last time I was at Meadow Lane was when Grimsby Town scored an agonising last ditch equaliser in the play-offs; going onto deservedly to win in extra-time. I was sat next to a guy that day who stopped his watch with 40x seconds of added time left when a free-kick was awarded and parity restored.

Notts County light up the stage by playing the best 45 minutes of football I've ever witnessed at Non League level - and trust me I've watched some games in the last 50 years. The pace of the game is breathtaking and the skills on show are insane. 

'The Non League Haaland' - Macaulay Langstaff - opens the scoring for the Pies on 13 minutes with a set-piece performed on the training ground. They're running rings around the Dragons, but fail to notch a second. Big spending Wrexham miss three one on ones. The Pies are in debt to 'keeper Sam Slocombe, whose bravery and alertness are to be applauded. Visiting strikers Ollie Palmer and Paul Mullin are off colour and fail to trouble the scorers. Notts see the game out and rise to the top of the National League table.

I tick off the new Broad Marsh bus station on Wednesday morning, and what an impressive build it is too. I jump on the Keyworth 6, part with £3.50 for a single ticket and head out to my old stomping ground. My old mucker the 'Big Man' (Bish) is recovering from a hip operation. It's akin to Stevie Wonder spending the day with Brian Potter.

I can't drive and he can't walk. We spend the day stretched out on the sofa drinking tea and watching daytime television. He sheds a few tears during the commercial break of Place in the Sun, when a recovery driver turns up to tow away 'the 'Blue Rocket' to the scrapyard in the sky. It had more miles on the clock than Steve Bruce.

The Big Man breaks out in a sweat each time Rachel Riley appears on the screen during Countdown - he's proper got the hots for her folks. I suggest he goes for a cold shower prior to the beginning of Tipping Point - Ms Moon's favourite show. You have to be as thick as a brick if you successfully pass the screen test to appear on the show. Ms Moon applied to be on, but never heard back from the production company. I said to her to take it as a back-handed compliment.

Ben Shephard's 'magic magnet' isn't working today. The contestant, some Herbert from the West Midlands, scoops the £10k jackpot despite having a lower IQ than my old budgie Murphy Palmer. We can't half pick 'em.

Man of the Match: The Big Man

Attendance: 10,741

Clifton All Whites 1-4 Radford FC

It's Friday April 29th, a day I've dreamt about for four months. I'm holed up with 30x work colleagues in The Walrus, a bar on King Street, in the heart of Nottingham city centre. It was under a different guise in the mid 80s. Back then it was called Punters Bar and sold tin after tin of Red Stripe Jamaican lager. Alternative music used to blast out of the speakers. Post-Punk band New Model Army's 'Vengeance' was a crowd favourite and floor filler.

There's no post punk on the Walrus Spotify list, although there are 80s classics such as 'Temptation' by Sheffield synth-pop band, Heaven 17. The reason we are all gathered here this evening is because there are two leaving dos, and one of them is mine.

It's been a staged exit, with full support from my best ever employer, Ideagen PLC. I need a long break after suffering with serious eye issues, with the added burden of having to work from home during the pandemic. It's been difficult to focus on work during my six week notice period. I'm so excited for what the future holds.

We move onto a 'nightclub' called Popworld. I'm comfortably the oldest person in here by 25 years (a bit like work). It's not for everyone and certainly not for me. New Model Army aren't on the running order. George Ezra and Ed Sheeran are, in abundance. 'Beam me up Scotty,' I've eight months off work to look forward to.

Fast forward to Monday September 25th. The summer has gone in the blink of an eye. I've watched cricket all over the country and in Amsterdam too. I'm about to slump into my seat in the Radcliffe Road lower stand for the final four days of the season, as Nottinghamshire attempt to beat Durham to secure the LV County Championship Division Two title.

I've met some great people at Trent Bridge, who have welcomed me into their group. 'Crazy Steve', 'Faggsy', 'Kimberley Al' and 'Red Dog Roly' are all good friends of mine now - their cricket knowledge is second to none too. Mrs Bunns on Musters Road is a regular stop off if I've forgotten (or can't be arsed) to pack some snap. Regular customer,'Crazy Steve' gets a selfie with the lasses behind the counter prior to his final oxtail soup and haslet cob. That's proper keeping it real snap, folks. 

It's a captivating week of cricket. Records tumble as four of Notts batters all hit centuries. It's gone midday on Thursday when the final wicket falls, the title is ours. We join in with the celebrations on the steps of the pavilion. There's a nice touch from Stuart Broad, who dashes up to the dressing room before bringing down some of his kit that he shares with the members. 

We hold our own 'End of Season Party' - The Embankment, VAT and Fiddle, Canalhouse, Bell Inn and Partizan Tavern are all supported by the gang, as the curtains draw on another season end. I feel so sad that I won't be watching any cricket again until next April.

My mind turns to football and in particular Big Glenn Russell, 'Director of Football' at Radford FC. Regular readers will know of a few 'run-ins' I've had with the Big Lad. In summary, they usually get beat when Sticky Palms tips up at one of their fixtures. I got banned last season. They then went on to win 10x games on the bounce in my absence. 

As expected, there was no warm welcome at Selhurst Street last Saturday. I was told to 'GET OUT' when the 'Big 'Un' clocked me coming through the turnstile. It all ended well with an exciting penalty shootout win for Radford over table-toppers Aylestone Park. I text him the exciting news that I'll be rocking up to watch them at Clifton on Saturday. His reply was 'NO   .... don't bother.'   ... lol.

It's Friday afternoon. I'm fishing out my (borrowed) golfing umbrella from the shoe cupboard. It's not had an outing since April. It'll come in handy now as it's hosing it down and Nottingham city centre roads are gridlocked due to a fight, a tram derailment and a gas leak. The bus is stuck outside the Motorpoint Arena. I alight at the bottom of Hockley and peg it up to Market Square. It's sheeting it down with rain and I've already managed to scoop up a large puddle that has landed in my trainer.

I'd usually walk up to Canning Circus, but jump on the number 24 bus which drops me off bang outside the Sir John Borlase Warren. Blog legend, Tony Mac, is already supping a Lincoln Green ale. We have a cracking night walking around the city, as the rain subsides. Pub of the night is Bustler Market which is having its opening night in Sneinton's old fruit market. I finish the night off with a doner meat cob at the Carlton Fryer. My final drink, an 11% chocolate stout at the Partizan Tavern, has done for me. I'm in a right two 'n eight on arrival back to HQ. Ms Moon has to undo my shoe laces for me.

I'm as fresh as a daisy on Saturday morning. Those vegan craft ales, despite their strength, never give you a hangover. I rustle up a couple of sausage sandwiches. Nottingham City Transport let me down badly. There's no bus into town for 20 minutes. Seven buses, much to my annoyance, swing by in the opposite  direction. It's a race against time to get to All Whites ground on time. The tram from town is packed with folk who have spent the morning at Goose Fair. I alight the tram at Clifton town precinct.

Clifton is south of Nottingham and has a population of over 20,000. Famous people from here include the singer Jake Bugg, actress Samantha Morton, ice skater Jayne Torvill and the brilliant footballer Darren Huckerby, who was released by Notts County for being too small. It's £5 admission into the ground which is paid at the bar. 

I love this club. My son, Joe, had the honour of playing for them for six very successful seasons. A few of the lads pushed on. Timmy Berridge is banging the goals in at Step 3 Coalville Town and Robbie McNicholas is a regular starter for Loughborough Dynamo. Both of them are fine young men, who were a pleasure to coach at Under 19 level.

Former Keyworth United stopper Alex 'Barthez' Ball is hanging around behind the goal. We've been good pals and work colleagues for over 30 years. I clock Big Glenn wandering over to the dugout. I turn my back so he can't see me.

Clifton All Whites legend and friend to stars, James 'Tosh' Turner is over at Arnold helping out the young reserve team. I miss his banter and footballing nous. 'Dringy' and his lad Jordan make an appearance. An old mate, Dave 'Daisy' Reilly is also here. I bump into another blog legend, 'Swifty.' He was Notts groundsman of the year in 2007. No wonder the playing surface looks in pristine condition.

Radford are up and at 'em from the off. Clifton could do with a couple of old heads as the young lads struggle with the physical side of the game. Striker, Anton Robinson, is already impressing the judges Chances have already gone begging before a busy Kyle Stovell opens the scoring on 5 minutes. Stovell adds to his tally on the half hour as the visitors threaten to run riot.

I check the scores at half-time. Non League sensation Macaulay Langstaff, a bargain buy from Gateshead, has already bagged a brace for the Pies, to put them, as Colin Slater used to say 'two to the good'. Langstaff has chalked up 14 goals for the season. I'll be checking him out versus Wrexham on Tuesday evening.

Radford look to have wrapped things up with a third goal. The impressive Josh Gardner pulls one back with a pearler. Joint manager Marko Markelic, not a man you want to upset, is giving one of his players a piece of his mind. The Pheasants put the game to bed on the hour.

'Tosh' has rolled up after the reserve game against AFC Top Valley, a team I rate highly. He left a drink for me behind the bar, but I don't like taking advantage. It's great to see the wee man. Rain or shine there's always a smile on his face.

There's a crazy rain shower that has us all diving for cover, before the skies brighten once again and the referee calls an end to proceedings after dishing out more cards than Clintons. Big Glenn is grinning like a Cheshire cat as he makes his way over to 'Forza Radderati' to show his appreciation for their magnificent support.

At this rate he'll be begging for his lucky charm, Sticky Palms, to pitch up at every game. I can't 'arf pick 'em.

Man of the Match: 'Crazy Steve'

Attendance: 50 head count.