A lifetime of supporting Bromley FC has taught writer, ad-man, programme obsessive and Alan Stonebridge superfan Dave Roberts not to take the club’s remarkable start to the season for granted. Top of the National League with just one defeat in fourteen – and that coming after first-choice ‘keeper Mark Cousins was stretchered off in the opening minutes at Yeovil Town – having already posted some impressive victories against erstwhile luminaries of the Football League, the Ravens’ unofficial historian refuses to be drawn into talk of promotions parties in South-East London.

“I still get the idea that despite the team’s success, we’re not taken completely seriously. Until recently, our games were amongst the last shown on the TV highlights show and live coverage seems to be the one a season BT are obliged to show. Even the local paper hardly ever has Bromley FC on the back page.”

Before 2008, the average football fan might have struggled to point to Bromley on a map, let alone give you a potted rundown of the local football club’s ill-fated journey to the bottom of the Isthmian League in the late 1960s. That changed with Roberts’ second book – and his first foray into non-fiction – as The Bromley Boys introduced bookish matchgoers to the wonderfully niche obsession of a fourteen year old and the non-league side down the road. From skipping out of boarding school to attend a midweek match, to getting a lift home from his footballing idol, via tea huts and and endless run of defeats, the true essence of football fandom oozed off the pages, earning Roberts the nickname ‘Mr. Bromley’, despite an extended period living on the other side of the world, unable to attend games at Hayes Lane.

“When I was writing The Bromley Boys, I didn’t think anyone would buy it – it felt a bit niche and even the publisher described it as ‘wilfully uncommercial’. As for being Mr Bromley, there are plenty of people more deserving of the title than me – fans who have barely missed a game in sixty-odd years, people who have devoted their lives to the club in various voluntary roles and the man who has been selling Golden Goal tickets from before I started watching Bromley. He still is today.”

The Bromley Boys was followed up with 32 Programmes, a delightful deep dive into the mind of a collector, as Dave attempts to trim down his enormous collection of football programmes to just thirty-two, at the behest of his understanding partner; and Sad Men, a superb memoir based around Roberts’ career in advertising, and a bittersweet tale of unfulfilled ambition, before 2016’s Home and Away saw the writer return to Hayes Lane for his beloved Bromley’s first season in the top flight of non-league football, in a season diary that attempts to defy geography, the British transport system and common sense. Like its predecessor, Roberts’ second book centred on an unfashionable non-league side tucked away in a forgotten corner on the Kent/London border was a hit with fans, pundits and writers alike.

“I think most football fans have more in common than I realised, so I just stick to being honest about what’s going on in my head – however humiliating it might seem at the time; whether it’s match day rituals, jinxes, keeping elaborate records or making ridiculously long journeys for meaningless matches.”

It was, by his own admission, supposed to be the final written chapter of his “lifelong love affair” with Bromley FC. The two books, published some eight years apart, had spanned a lifetime of supportership, covering the reckless abandon of adolescence to the undying embers of passion in a man that’s old enough to know better. But the last eighteen months in the lives of both Roberts and Bromey have been extraordinary.

“The plan was for Home and Away to be the last – I was sure I’d exhausted all possible material. But my lifelong fantasy had been to see Bromley play at Wembley. All hope had pretty much gone – until there was suddenly an outside chance. I started keeping notes from the Trophy run in a file named ‘Just in Case’ never thinking they would be needed. The nearer we got to the final, the more nervous I got.”

Having spent much of the 2017/18 campaign bobbing safely around midtable in the National League, a welcome distraction arrived in the form of an FA Trophy cup run. After stumbling and staggering their way past Hartley Wintney, Blyth Spartans and Workington Town in the opening few rounds, an interminable wait followed to find out whether the Ravens would in with a chance of reaching Wembley, as their replayed tie against Spennymoor Town was postponed three times, before a 2-1 victory in the north east secured a two-legged semi-final against fellow National League side Gateshead. A brace from forward Louis Dennis, who would be snapped up by Portsmouth at the end of the season, gave Bromley the advantage as they travelled back up north for the second leg, before an early own goal put Neil Smith’s side in the driving seat. Despite Scott Barrow’s equaliser on the day, Bromley held out and they – and Dave Roberts – were heading for Wembley.

National League North side Brackley Town were all that stood in the way between Bromley and glory, and once Omar Buigel had given the National League side the lead at Wembley, the result looked a forgone conclusion. Those ardent followers of Bromley knew differently however and, on cue, in the final seconds of the game, former Birmingham City and Wolves defender Roger Johnson deflected the ball past his own ‘keeper to level the scored. Predictably, Bromley would go on to lose the penalty shootout.

“When the final whistle went, I was still undecided about writing the book. I like to have vaguely happy endings to books and this was far from it. There was a real risk that Bromley fans wouldn’t enjoy the book – even I haven’t been able to read that chapter since writing it.. But in the end, I decided that reaching Wembley had been the dream, and watching the team walk out was one of the most thrilling and proud moments of my (football) life.”

Thanks to the unique way in which independent publisher Unbound fund their titles, Dave was able to crowdfund his next book, and The Long Long Road to Wembley hit bookstores in August this year. Having already garnered praise from the good and great of the literature world including football writers Adam Hurrey and Miguel Delaney, Roberts’ new book completes a year in the limelight for Bromley FC, who made their silver screen debut in the independent film adaptation of The Bromley Boys in May 2018.

“Well, it was’t something I expected, but I do feel a little surge of pride knowing that a film about my club exists. Most of my childhood memories from the book didn’t make the final script, but the few that did make it were accurately done and thoroughly enjoyable. I thought the casting – especially the actors playing me and my hero Alan Stonebridge – were perfect.”

Having conquered both the page and the silver screen, attention in the opening weeks of this season has turned to Bromley’s performances on the pitch, as an unexpected surge to the top of the National League has left tongues wagging in the non-league world. A strong summer of recruitment that saw thirteen players arrive at Hayes Lane, including three acquisitions from League One in Gillingham pair Josh Rees (who played a part in Bromley’s trip to Wembley) and Billy Bingham and Southend United midfielder Michael Klass, has refreshed a squad struggling to break out of the rat race of midtable, while the form of fellow new boy Michael Cheek – with seven goals from thirteen starts – has been crucial to the side’s impressive start.

“I wish I knew what was behind the strong start. I keep waiting for the bubble to burst, but Bromley keep the unbeaten run going apart from the loss to Yeovil which doesn’t really count as our ‘keeper was stretched off after a couple of minutes. This team seems mentally tougher than any Bromley team I’ve seen in the past and there are no obvious weaknesses in any position.  Every season has seen a steady improvement, so it shouldn’t be a huge shock that things are currently going well. Having said that, I still stare at the table in disbelief sometimes.”

While the plethora of new faces have impressed, the importance of stability and continuity at the club can’t be understated. Manager Neil Smith has been at the helm since 2016, and before that was the assistant to Mark Goldberg, who began his reign at Hayes Lane in 2006. Appointing just two managers in thirteen years is a remarkable stat at any level of football, but in the volatile world of non-league its almost unheard of. Owner Robin Stanton-Gleaves, who became the club’s major shareholder in 2016, has long extolled the virture of stability, whilst simultaneously mapping out a progressive vision for the club’s future. If it sounds like a far cry from the rag-tag team that Dave Roberts fell in love with fifty years ago, then the author’s most recent trip to the hallowed ground certainly brought the progress of his beloved Bromley into sharp focus.

“The 2-1 win over Notts County was one of the more satisfying moments in my life as a Bromley supporter. There’s a board at the entrance to Hayes Lane, and I just stood and started at it when it said NEXT MATCH HERE –  NOTTS COUNTY. It didn’t really sink in until then. Saying that, the result doesn’t quite match the 1-0 win at Lincoln during their promotion season, and the 7-3 win at Torquay in the same year.

“While things may have changed on the pitch, it’s always been a friendly club and you soon get to know the people who turn up, week in week out. I think that’s the key to the enduring obsession, being with fans who are every bit as passionate as you are, regardless of how well the team is doing. When I go to Hayes Lane these days, I’ll see at least half a dozen people who were at the first games I went to over fifty years ago.”

For now, it remains early days, but already Bromley have put themselves among the chasing pack for one of those elusive promotion spots, and a place in the promised land of the Football League. Though he refuses to be drawn on their chances of going up, Roberts remains prepared.

“I’m working on a non-Bromley book at the moment, but if we get promoted, I’d love to do one covering this season. I even have another file I’m using for making notes. It’s the same one I used for the Trophy run, called ‘Just In Case’…”

Thanks to Dave for agreeing to talk to us about his love affair with Bromley. You can purchase The Long Long Road to Wembley from Amazon, Foyles, and Waterstones, as well as all discerning independent bookshops. You can also follow Dave on Twitter. 

Sure, unless you’re Manchester City, Chelsea, Arsenal or Wigan Athletic, the chances of actually lifting the FA Cup are infinitesimal, but that doesn’t mean that, for at least two games a season, supporters can’t dream that this might finally be the year they make it to Wembley, before having their hearts broken by some lower league cloggers managed by Graham Westley on a wet afternoon in February.

One man who knows the true heartache of a cup defeat more than most is this week’s guest. Co-host of the peerless 90s Football podcast Quickly Kevin Will He Score? alongside Josh Widdicombe and Michael Marden, as well as a lifelong sufferer of West Ham United, we’re delighted to welcome Chris Scull to Losing My Favourite Game, as he looks back on a balmy night in Bedfordshire more than 25 years ago.

Luton Town 3-2 West Ham United
FA Cup Sixth Round Replay
23rd March 1994

“

Ever since I started supporting West Ham, I considered reaching the semi final of the FA Cup the absolute pinnacle of our sporting ambition. It’s perhaps the case for me, and indeed most West Ham supporters, that we’re burdened with a pragmatic realism that borders on utter pessimism.

I can honestly say that the people in my life that have the most visceral hatred of West Ham United are the very people who are the most committed West Ham fans, home and away, that I’ve ever met. Our very own club anthem, I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles, features the somewhat depressing line “and like my dreams, they fade and die”. Sometimes, I have to stop and remind myself that this refrain is sung to our heroes in an effort to cheer them on.

So I’d say that the West Ham supporter’s collective psyche rarely lets itself get carried away with such emotions as positivity and hope. We know we’re not going to win the cup every year; but for me, going to a showpiece semi-final day out would be an unparalleled footballing paradise. The pomp and ceremony. The excitement. The neutral venue.

Let’s roll the clock back a little. I would say that in 1994, at 11 years old, I was unshackled from the footballing pragmatic realism of today; running wild, with a claret and blue scarf, a home shirt with Martin Allen’s name on the back and the care-free exuberance which only youth can provide.

I had got my first season ticket in the 1992/93 season; a campaign which found The Hammers outside the top tier for the Premier League’s inaugural season. But as a consequence of dropping down, we, alongside Newcastle, were by far the biggest footballing fishes in the old-money First Division pond. And not only that, but we were whipping teams up and down the country almost every week. We had Julian Dicks marauding the wing and terrorising everyone in the process, Big Ludek Miklosko looked the best keeper in the division and tricky winger Mark Robson was flying past opposition defences like he was invisible.

If this was supporting West Ham, I was very much on-board. I’d say I’ve watched the VHS of that season review more than any other video. I’m confident I could still rattle off most of the commentary on it from memory. By the summer of 1993, we were back in the top flight along with Newcastle and Swindon. How hard could it be?

Things began with a ‘Classic West Ham’ trope as our star signing of the summer, striker Dale Gordon, scored our first Premier League goal, got crocked, then didn’t score another goal and left 3 years later after only making another 10 appearances. Meanwhile Dicks, on account of his chain-smoking, loose training and undisciplined nature, found himself sold to Liverpool where he finished the 93/94 season by scoring the last ever goal in front of the old Kop, before rejoining the Hammers a few months later.

But while the Irons slowly plodded through those autumn and winter months toward inevitable lower-mid table safety, something strange was happening. A fortuitous cup run was building.

I’ve always thought the key to a good cup run, for West Ham at least, is being consistently drawn against inferior opposition. I appreciate this isn’t a revelatory statement; but while there are some clubs who revel in a local derby, or a big team in the cup, nothing makes my heart sink lower. No, for West Ham succeed, we need to be regularly drawn against the kind of team who’ll turn up with their goalkeeper driving the coach.

Through January and February 1994, the stars started to align. We dispatched lower league Watford 2-1. Then pipped past lower league Notts County 1-0 in a replay, after drawing 1-1 in the first leg.

Then the surest sign yet that this season was destined for my coveted FA Cup semi final spot and the chance for glory: we drew non-league minnows Kidderminster Harriers in the fifth round. A team so lowly they didn’t even appear to have a real name. A team so bereft of quality, I had serious doubts about whether they’d be able to afford the requisite football to play the match.

In classic West Ham fashion, we made incredibly hard work of it, nicking a wholly unrepresentative 1-0 victory despite a series of scares and a commentator revelling in the classic cliche that “it wasn’t clear who the Premier League team was on this evidence”. Actually, looking back on this ‘run’ for this article. It’s clear to me that we were incredibly lucky on the draw. And incredibly rubbish in those games.

Nevertheless, we were in the draw. I’m sure it took place on a Sunday night, with 90s football icon Graham Kelly presiding over his famous black balls. I can honestly say that evening was the most excited I’ve ever been about a cup draw. It might be the only time I’d memorised all the draw numbers in advance. But there were only two numbers I was interested in; those of West Ham, and the crappest team left in the draw, Luton Town.

And then.. it happened. West Ham out first, Luton out second. We would be at home to the most clueless amateurs this side of Kidderminster. All that stood between me and my dream of a showpiece FA Cup semi final day out was a group of sporting hacks battling relegation a whole league below.

So to Upton Park. Get an early goal, squash their morale. Get another couple later on as the game stretches. Then worry about semi final tickets. That was the plan… but this is West Ham. And West Ham is what happens when you’re making other plans. We struggled. Neither side shone. Like two blindfolded men in an east London ditch, scrapping with unwieldy pugil sticks made of distinctly average footballer. Another game where the commentator couldn’t tell the supposed difference in class.

There was one moment though, and I think about it to this day, where our Liverpudlian midfielder Mike Marsh flicked a header which bounced beyond Luton’s diving keeper and onto the post, then out of play. It’s the sliding doors moment I’d obsess about the most; until a certain Steven Gerrard found the ball at his feet at an absurd distance in the dying moments of the 2006 FA Cup final.

If Mike Marsh scores that, my sporting heart wouldn’t have been broken until the Euro 96 semi final. If Mike Marsh scores that, my family would’ve had that day out at Wembley against Chelsea in the spring of ’94. If Mike Marsh scores that, I’m sat here writing an article about any number of West Ham misfortunes in the years that followed. But alas, it hit the post. Sliding doors. To Kenilworth Road.

Recalling it now feels like recalling a car crash or shock inducing trauma. The memories are burned into my psyche and framed with lightning. We went a goal up; my favourite player Martin Allen opening the scoring. But rather than accelerate ahead, Luton equalised with the feet of the son of Showaddywaddy’s guitarist Trevor; Scott Oakes. Then Oakes scored again, my throat tightened. I remember from this point on I watched the game on my knees in front of the telly.

Early in the second half Ian Bishop equalised for West Ham and dived into the claret and blue away end. But we know how this all ends. Of course we do. Steve Potts caught in possession on the halfway line. Scott Oakes intercepts and races away like he’s ice skating, while our back peddling defence looks like it’s running through 3 feet of water. Miklosko rushes out half-heartedly. Ball flies past him and in. Bedlam. And heartache.

Then the dying embers of the game. The first time I’d really experienced the utter desperation of football fandom. Watching time race away. The ball caught in midfield, no chance to get it forward. The referee reaching for his whistle. My head in my hands. The first time a game of football had made me cry.

I remember my Dad being aghast that football had brought me to tears; it was probably at that moment he realised I’d truly caught the bug. I would’ve gone to my bedroom that night, its walls covered in posters of my West Ham heroes. Heroes who’d let me down for the first time. To Luton Town. Luton bloody Town. Scott bloody Oakes. Show-bloody-waddywaddy.

You never forget the first time football broke your heart. Having witnessed two relegations since, I can honestly say nothing hurt more than that night. Defeats, like that game, steel you and make you hardier. And that’s how the West Ham dream-dying, pessimistic, pragmatic psyche has evolved; its easier mentally to live without hope, because you’re better prepared for when disaster does strike. Oh West Ham. Like my dreams, they fade and die.

Thanks to Chris for sharing those painful 90s memories. Series Five of the ‘Quickly Kevin Will He Score’ Podcast will be available on all podcast providers in November. For more information, or to catch up on previous shows, head to the Quickly Kevin website.

They’ve been the most talked about management duo in England’s lower leagues since taking non-league Lincoln City to the quarter-finals of the FA Cup in 2017. Their arrival at Sincil Bank in the summer of 2016 revitalised a club that had fallen to the lowest ebb in their history. But all good things must come to an end and, after a summer of speculation surrounding vacancies at various clubs in the Championship, Huddersfield Town won the race to prise the Cowley brothers away from the Imps. It’s a move that has left many Lincoln fans bereft; concerned for the future of their club on the field after an impressive start to life in League One, and watching on as the board search for a replacement that can continue the brothers’ good work. But what was so special about Danny and Nicky Cowley’s stint at Lincoln, and where do the club go from here?

A member of the youth setup at Wimbledon in the late-80s and early-90s, Danny Cowley enjoyed a solid career as a non-league midfielder with a handful of clubs in Essex, not far from his home borough of Havering on the outskirts of London. Injury curtailed his career at the age of just 29, but an opportunity soon arose to work  as part of a management team at Concord Rangers, the last side Danny had played for before a ruptured hamstring tendon called time on his playing days. In eight years at the Canvey Island club, alongside their work as PE teachers, the Cowley brothers oversaw a remarkable three promotions, lifting Rangers into the National League South, and steering them to their first ever appearance in the FA Cup First Round Proper. Word soon began to spread about the hottest coaches in non-league football, and Braintree Town pounced to bring the duo into the National League. In their only season at Cressing Road, the Cowleys took Braintree to within three games of the Football League, but were knocked out by Grimsby Town in the playoffs. Then Lincoln City came calling.

“They’re archetypal of the forward-thinking, energetic and ambitious young managers we sought to attract from the outset.”
Bob Dorrian, Lincoln City chairman in 2016

The Imps had been a staple in the lower reaches of the Football League for their 130 year existence. One solitary season in League One aside, the club had been operating in the fourth tier since 1988, but a run of poor managerial appointments eventually saw them slip into the Conference in 2011. For the next five seasons, they would flirt with further relegation, working their way through five managers before the appointment of Danny and Nicky Cowley. The pair arrived at Sincil Bank with a plan, and armed with state-of-the-art management techniques, and a willingness to work as hard as it took to turn the sinking ship of Lincoln around.

Their first port of call was to win back a fanbase that had slowly drifted away from the club the further down the pyramid it fell. From the crowd of 8,000 that had seen Lincoln relegated from League Two against Aldershot Town, just 2,000 had regularly attended games in the season prior to the Cowleys’ appointment. The answer to filling Sincil Bank up again was simple – win games. Their first home match in charge ended in a 6-1 victory over North Ferriby United. From there, they never looked back, finding themselves in the hot seat for automatic promotion early on in the season. By the last home game of the season against Macclesfield Town, 10,000 fans were cramming into Sincil Bank to get a glimpse of the reborn Lincoln City.

That famous cup run help galvanise the local support too, with victories over Ipswich Town and Brighton and Hove Albion played out in front of packed home crowds. By the time Sean Raggett had headed a stoppage time winner at Burnley to add Lincoln City’s name to the history books, the Cowleys’ had become household names.

When it came to the bread-and-butter of winning football matches, the tactical flexibility of the Imps management team also played a key part in their success. More than happy to feed long balls up to a bruising target man like Matt Rhead, the Cowleys also encouraged the short passing and possession play of a Guardiola side, and utilised the high-intensity, high-pressing game associated with Jurgen Klopp. Towards the end of their promotion campaign, the art of eeking out tight victories became key to Lincoln’s success, but that didn’t stop their involvement in the occasional seven-goal thriller or 4-0 pasting of lesser sides.

Their early-adoption of technology provided the Cowleys with a further edge over their competition, as the pair embraced the performance analysis app Hudl, which had been predominantly used in American Football, providing each player with feedback and offering interactive video clips to aid development. As one of the few clubs in the National League employing a full-time Performance Analyst, City reaped the rewards.

Any expectation of the Cowleys’ settling for consolidation in Lincoln’s first season back in the Football League were wide of the mark, as the Imps marched on to the playoffs, losing out to Exeter City in the semi-finals. Supporters had to settle for just the one visit to Wembley, as they watched their side lift the Football League Trophy following a 1-0 victory over Shrewsbury Town. After some savvy work in the transfer market, Lincoln flew out of the traps the following season, losing just four games before Christmas and occupying top spot in all but five matchweeks. In three seasons, the Cowleys had notched up two promotions and a trophy, and there looked to be little let up when the Imps won their opening three games on their first return to the third tier since 1999. Defeat at Wycombe Wanderers would be the Cowleys’ last game in charge.

We caught up with Gary Hutchinson, former club mascot and now editor of the award-winning Lincoln City fanzine The Stacey West, to discuss the Cowleys’ legacy and departure, and what happens next for Lincoln City.

“The Cowleys’ departure was a shock, pure and simple. Nobody was prepared for them leaving. They’d always preached integrity and loyalty, something we felt they would show us this season. Danny often mentioned how he couldn’t leave a club during the season and work with other managers players, nor would he bring players to a club and then leave before they’d settled. I felt they’d see out their contract and then go, but football is a fast-moving game. I got wind on the Friday before that something was amiss and within 72 hours or so it was confirmed and they’d gone.

“Their success is down to hard work. They’re relentless. They sit up watching videos and dedicate their entire lives to being the very best versions of themselves. That finds its way into the player’s mentality, even the fans. My own ‘rise’ as a writer has coincided with their arrival at the club and having spent time with Danny, I can’t help but feel enthused by his energy.

“There’ve been other factors besides the Cowleys that account for Lincoln’s success. Good management off the field, without a doubt. Chairman Clive Nates is a great bloke with a real passion for the game. He’s studious, understated and great at bringing in investment and good staff members. We’ve grown hugely as a business off the field and yet maintained a link with the supporters.

“The other obvious answer is the players, pure and simple. We’ve got good players, Danny always signed good characters as much as anything, and that shows through. He’s always had good senior pros, Nathan Arnold and Matt Rhead in the National League, Michael Bostwick and Neal Eardley in the first season back, Jason Shackell and Michael O’Connor last year. These players add stability and an assurance on the field as well as the training ground.

“I think the Cowleys’ job, to a degree, was done. We could attract good players, we have good facilities and the staff had got into a great rhythm too. They were custodians of the pattern, not innovators anymore. As managers, they had to keep the ship sailing, but as a vessel it was already built.

“The only way we can progress further than we have done already is investment, pure and simple. Without money for player and resources, we’re a League One side. Had they stayed and the investment hadn’t come in, I can’t say we’d be anywhere other than where we are right now. We’re achieving as much as we can and that is perhaps why they left.

“All of which means a the new man can be successful. The current trajectory is stable I think; we really can’t imagine being in the Championship until investment comes in, which means any manager simply has to keep doing what we’re doing.

“We’ve got good players, a good approach, a thriving fanbase and great facilities now; who wouldn’t be able to work with that? We’ve got the right tools  for a great job to be done, we just need someone willing to come in and not change a huge amount. If they can do that, then we’ll be top ten this season.”

At the time of writing Lincoln City have yet to name a successor, but the Cowleys’ have already taken charge of their first game at the John Smith Stadium, in Sunday’s 2-0 defeat to Sheffield Wednesday – coincidentally another side that had courted the management duo over the summer. It’s clear that the task in hand for Danny and Nicky is a big one, with the side that David Wagner developed and took to the top flight having been torn to shreds and sapped of any momentum. Gary Hutchinson thinks the Terriers are in safe hands, though.

“Under the Cowleys Huddersfield will be aggressive, press high and work really hard. It’ll be interesting to see how Danny works with lads on huge wages; he’s not done that before. Their recruitment will be very good, they work tirelessly to get the right players into the right positions. They’ll hunt bargains, players with capability but who are perhaps low on confidence or reputation.

“Most of all, they’ll get respect in press conferences, a no victim attitude and, unless something goes horribly wrong, they’ll get success too.”

Some may have been surprised that the pair jumped ship to manage a basket case as the wrong end of the Championship, but the opportunity to stamp their mark on the club and make wholesale changes may play into their hands. After all, that’s how they became the hottest property in the Football League.

Thanks to Gary Hutchinson for providing the Lincoln City perspective for this piece. You can follow The Stacey West fanzine on Twitter, and also find Gary’s work on The Real EFL, which provides in-depth insight into Leagues One and Two. 

This week we’re absolutely delighted to be joined by Matt Abbot. Poet, educator, activist, and performer, Matt took his one-man show Two Little Ducks to the Edinburgh Fringe in 2017 before embarking on a 22-date UK theatre tour in autumn 2018, receiving a hat-trick of 5* and 4* reviews. This tour was accompanied by his début collection of the same name, published by Verve Poetry Press. His début collection for children ‘A Hurricane in my Head’ was published by Bloomsbury in July. Matt also fronts indie act Skint & Demoralised and runs spoken word record label Nymphs & Thugs. He’s an ambassador for Trinity Homeless Projects and Eureka! The National Children’s Museum. Most pertinently, he’s been a die-hard Leeds United supporter since the age of seven, which thankfully gives him plenty of ammunition for this feature. 

Rather than dwell on the years in administration, the crushing fall to the third tier of English football, the fallow years in League One, or the absolute clusterfuck that was Massimo Celino’s ownership of the Whites, Matt is taking us back to where it all began. The real beginning of the end, when the semi-final of the Champions League was beginning to feel like a distant memory, and Peter Ridsdale’s decision to sign Seth Johnson for £7m was beginning to look more than a little questionable.

By the beginning of the 2003/04 season, Ridsdale has cleared his desk and been replaced by Professor John McKenzie, the first of three chairmen that Leeds United would get through in their final season in the Premier League. David O’Leary and most of his babies had also bade farewell to Elland Road, with a firesale over the previous eighteen months seeing Rio Ferdinand, Jonathan Woodgate, Robbie Keane and Harry Kewell all sold in a bid to balance the books. In their stead came a rag-tag bunch of loanees ranging from has-beens, to never-weres and never-would-bes, and though the club retained the goals of Alan Smith and Mark Viduka, a catastrophically leaky defence would eventually prove their downfall. By the time Peter Reid was sacked on November 10th, Leeds were bottom of the table, had just been walloped 6-1 by newly promoted Portsmouth, and had conceded 31 goals in 12 games.

The appointment of 70s hero Eddie Gray brought some much-needed stability over the Christmas period as the Whites went five games unbeaten, but it would take another ten weeks from Boxing Day for them to earn their next point. A rally in Spring that included three wins from four took them to within touching distance of safety, before defeat to relegation rivals Portsmouth in a six-pointer at Elland Road left the writing on the wall. Still, fans Marched on Together to the Reebok Arena, knowing that defeat would all but end Leeds United’s fourteen year stay in the top flight. Among the travelling contingent was one Matt Abbott.

Bolton Wanderers 4-1 Leeds United
Premier League
2nd May 2004

“

The game I’ve chosen all-but sealed our relegation from the top-flight. If memory serves me correctly, following this result, we’d have needed to beat Charlton 33-0 in our next game. As it happens, that finished 3-3, so if we’d just moved the hyphen…

Now, plenty of fans suffer relegation and I dare say some are relatively accustomed. Many seem able to dust down and prepare for one maybe two seasons in the league below, before winning promotion and forgetting the whole thing. Which is exactly what we thought would happen with Leeds, fifteen years ago.

That said, I barely need to fill you in with what was going on at Leeds back then. 2 years, 4 months and 1 day earlier, I’d seen us beat West Ham 3-0 on New Year’s Day, leaving us top of the table. Robbie Fowler scored, and in hindsight, his signing was emblematic of the sheer lunacy that took place in Peter Ridsdale’s boardroom. This was less than a year after we’d lost to Valencia in the Champions League semi-final. Fans and pundits alike expected us to mount a serious title challenge, right until third tier Cardiff shocked us in the FA Cup on my 13th birthday, and the wheels began to fall off in spectacular fashion.

So, there I was – about to head to Bolton to find out if Leeds genuinely could go down. It felt like jumping off a building in Tomb Raider, just to see if Lara could survive.

The build-up was unfamiliar, which did nothing to alleviate the tension. See, this is the thing with away games – you seek out familiarities; equivalents; quirks and routines. You might’ve researched pre-match pubs or just stumbled upon somewhere, hoping it’ll do. Who else has ended-up in a Harvester?

My dad and I, who usually travelled by train, were travelling by car from our hometown Ossett. And much as this sounds ungrateful, the guy giving us a lift was a classic killjoy cynic. To this day I wonder why some people bother when they spend every waking minute predicting worst-case scenarios. Not ideal when you need an away win to avoid relegation.

It takes an hour over the M62, and both Ossett and the stadium are next to the motorway either side. The stadium opened in a retail park in 1997. You see where I’m going with this, don’t you? This isn’t Goodison, Fratton or Ewood by any stretch of the imagination, but if it was unique and quaint that I was looking for, then that’s exactly where my dearly beloved were about to send me.

As always with Leeds, the away end was packed. 5,000 of us were there to watch our team climb the gallows. We were in fine voice, but when Mark Viduka netted a penalty on 27 minutes, the mood shifted dramatically. It became vociferous, and suddenly felt like we might manage to escape again. Nobody expected the previous season’s 3-2 at Highbury.

Six minutes later, Viduka received a second yellow. Petulant, unnecessary and self-destructive in a way that’d become second nature. But you know how it is going down to ten men – sometimes it works in your favour, and when you have Alan Smith and James Milner in your side, there’s every chance it will. We hung on til half-time, with fifteen minutes to catch our collective breath and ponder possibilities. Optimists stayed in our seats chanting our hearts out – unable to take our eyes off the pitch. Cynics shook their heads and surrendered to the bar, as if a flat pint of Foster’s and a Balti pie could do anything to mitigate misery.

Two minutes into the second half, Youri Djorkaeff equalised. Six minutes after that, he put Bolton ahead, and two minutes after that – as if this wasn’t cruel enough – Ian Harte scored an own goal to put the game beyond doubt. Ten minutes into the second half, and all we can do is watch a car crash from the zebra crossing.

Kevin Nolan added a fourth on 78 minutes, but that just turned us up a notch. We were the band on the sinking Titanic. The Bolton fans shielded perplexed expressions from the afternoon sun. In stoppage time, we chanted, “we’re going down in a minute” – the longest I’ve ever experienced. I still couldn’t quite believe it.

At the final whistle, we burst into tears at all angles. Some embraced pals, others openly wept, and others just quietly sobbed to themselves, unable to clap or swing a scarf. Quite frankly, I’d never seen anything like it, and even though I’d cried when we were knocked out of the UEFA Cup the previous season, I was numbed by the spectacle. It was highly surreal, and what’s more, bizarrely uplifting. What strikes me about Leeds is that we almost deal with tragedy better than we do with triumph. It’s ingrained in our psyche and this experience at 15 prepared me for what was in store. I was edging out of boyhood towards a moronic detour before gradually maturing. By the time I reached manhood, we were in League One.

I’m twice the age I was at Bolton. Leeds are playing tantalising football under Marcelo Bielsa and for the first time since a woeful Play-Off final in 2006, promotion is within reach. Bolton may have prepared me for the heartbreak that we suffered against Derby back in Spring, but it only hits you twice as hard when deep down, you knew it was inevitable.

Still, we’re football fans. We rationalise, recover and reset. We delude ourselves regardless of facts and we always hope for the best. Even that day in Bolton.

Thanks to Matt for sharing the trauma of the day Leeds United were effectively relegated from the Premier League. Matt’s band Skint & Demoralised recently released their fourth album ‘We Are Humans’ on Fierce Panda Records. It’s available via all major digital providers here, and is released on limited edition white vinyl on 25 October (pre-order here). You can also follow Matt on Twitter. 

It has become a staple of football quizzes in Britain. ‘How many non-British or Irish players started in the first weekend of the Premier League season?’. The answer, of course, is thirteen, and every time someone hears it anew, they’ll look to the person next to them, roll their eyes, tut and say “You wouldn’t see that these days would you? These days you get arrested just for saying you’re British!”

Yes, for better or worse, the Premier League is now a multinational, multicultural, global phenomenon. Thanks to the introduction of Norwich City’s Onel Hernandez in the opening game of this season, 110 of the 211 FIFA-affiliated nations have now been represented in England’s top flight, and on the opening weekend of last season the number of foreign players in the starting lineups of the first weekend of the season had risen to 126. Thanks to England’s surprising run to the semi-finals of the World Cup last summer, we were spared the bi-annual knee-jerk handwringing of the tabloid press, blaming the “invasion of foreigners” off the back of another disappointing tournament showing. Instead, it was the first international break of last season that sparked the chin-stroking around opportunities for young English players, as reflections on the success of the national team led to questions around how Gareth Southgate and any potential successor could use the performance in Russia as a springboard for the future.

It was Southgate himself that alerted the football media to the drop in minutes given to English players over the first few weeks of last season, complaining that the pool of players to pick from in the top flight was “getting smaller and smaller”, with just 30.4% of minutes in the opening weeks of the season being given to homegrown squad members. It’s an issue that has plagued English football since the inception of the Premier League, exacerbated by the introduction of the Bosman ruling and, most pertinently, the ever-increasing riches being pumped into the game by broadcasters. Suggestions of the introduction of ‘B’ teams at club level have been floated regularly – the implementation of under-21 sides into the EFL Trophy has hardly made a difference and, if anything, has only devalued the competition – while talk of reintroducing quotas for overseas players is likely to receive short shrift from those at the top of the game.

Luckily, if the opening weeks of the season are anything to go by, the problem of English players getting minutes may be a thing of the past. In the opening weeks of the season, Premier League sides have given an average of 34% of pitch time to their homegrown contingent. Unsurprisingly, the none-more-British Sean Dyche leads the way, with 60% of Burnley’s minutes being given to their English (and Austrian U21) players, though the sight of Watford – who former Hornets manager and current England U21 coach Aidy Boothroyd described as ‘unrecognisable’ when asked about the dearth of minutes for British footballers – in the upper echelons of the chart may come as a surprise. Last season, just 20.56% of minutes were given to English players by the top six sides, a figure that has so-far been improved upon by Manchester United (44%), Tottenham Hotspur (33%) and both Liverpool and Chelsea (23%), while on the whole Manchester City and Arsenal have stuck to relying on imports.

Dig a little deeper however, and there are more encouraging signs for Southgate and the future of English football. While minutes for English players as a whole have increased, the opportunities for younger players breaking into their respective first teams are also on the rise. Only two sides in the top flight – Crystal Palace and Wolverhampton Wanderers – have failed to give at least 90 minutes to an English player under the age of 25 over the course of the first four games of the season, while Arsenal and Leicester City can point to four each. Among those regulars are some seasoned internationals, such as Raheem Sterling, Trent Alexander-Arnold, Marcus Rashford and Ben Chilwell, but for the most part its players that have yet to establish themselves in the national side that have caught the eye.

From the promoted teams, who historically rely more on homegrown talent, Norwich City’s trio of Max Aarons, Ben Godfrey and Todd Cantwell have all enjoyed impressive starts to the season, while Sheffield United’s Dean Henderson is one of three young English goalkeepers to have played every minute of the season so far, alongside Southampton’s Angus Gunn and Bournemouth’s Aaron Ramsdale. Manchester United’s summer transfer policy of Buying British has seen Aaron Wan-Bissaka play every minute of every game so far, with Rashford and Luke Shaw not far behind, while the combination of a transfer ban and the appointment of a manager keen to promote youth has seen Chelsea emerge as a surprising hotbed of young English talent, with newly-capped Mason Mount and four-goal Tammy Abraham reaping the benefits of Frank Lampard’s arrival at Stamford Bridge.

So what’s behind this sudden resurgence of young English stars? Well, the fact that the start of this season has seen more English managers in post than any since 2008/09 – coincidentally the last time Gareth Southgate managed in the top flight – might have something to do with it. Of those eight, only two – Roy Hodgson at Crystal Palace and Steve Bruce at Newcastle – form part of the ‘old guard’ that have come to rely on imported players throughout their career. Both sides rank below the average for minutes given to English players so far this season.

Another pair – Chris Wilder and Dean Smith – have arrived in the top flight from the Championship in charge of their boyhood clubs, and while both have given the full 360 minutes to an English player under 25, Sheffield United have relied considerably more on English players, with 52% of available minutes going to homegrown squad members so far this season. Given the squad overhaul that saw twelve new players arrive at Villa Park, including seven from overseas, its perhaps unsurprising that Aston Villa have given just 29% of minutes to their English contingent.

Two English coaches newly appointed ahead of the season – Lampard and Brighton’s Graham Potter – earned reputations for working with homegrown youngsters in the Championship last year with Derby County and Swansea City respectively, and while Chelsea have only given 23% minutes to their English starlets, the fact that Tammy Abraham and Mason Mount have played more than 600 minutes between them already is a far cry from their struggles to break into the first team under previous managers. Brighton, meanwhile, remain loyal to their homegrown lot, with the likes of Adam Webster, Glenn Murray, Lewis Dunk and Solly March making up 43% of the available playing time.

The final two English managers in the top flight – Eddie Howe and Sean Dyche – have undoubtedly benefited from cast iron security in their jobs, which has allowed both to slowly bring players through the ranks and into the first team. Of the players Burnley have given 60% of available minutes to so far this season, five made their debut before their 24th birthday. Bournemouth, who rank 7th with 42%, have long been associated with their commitment to playing British talent, and while the all-English back four that brought them up through the leagues is beginning to disband, Howe continues to add exciting homegrown talent to his ranks, with Lloyd Kelly and Jack Stacey joining the likes of Lewis Cook and Dominic Solanke this summer.

Besides the sudden dearth of competent English managers, we can also point to the small matter of England’s record-breaking summer of 2017 as a likely factor for the upturn in minutes for young English players. Two years ago, England’s youth teams set a new bar for international success winning four age-group tournaments (including two World Cups) and reaching the semi-finals of the under-21 European Championships. Since then, national team fans have been keeping a keen eye on the progress of players from each of those squads.

Of the thirty-five English players under 24 to have played 90 minutes or more so far this season, eight were part of one of the winning squads in 2017, while a further eight were in the squad beaten by Germany in the Euros. While the likes of Phil Foden, and Rhian Brewster – two of the standout stars in the U17 World Cup winning squad – have struggled to displace their senior counterparts at club level, Ramsdale and Mount from the U19 Euros winning team, Ainsley Maitland-Niles, Fiyako Tomori, Dominic Calvert-Lewin and Dean Henderson from the U20 World Cup winning squad, and Harvey Barnes from the Toulon Tournament winners have all been given major roles in the top flight so far this year.  Further encouragement can be found in the Bundesliga, where Jadon Sancho continues to shine at Borussia Dortmund, while on-loan Jonjoe Kenny has played every minute for Schalke 04.

The question now remains whether this flurry of first team action for England’s youngsters is a flash in the pan or whether we can now expect team to put their faith in youth for the foreseeable future. Given the impact the likes of Abraham and Mount have had in the opening weeks of the season, there are certainly encouraging signs. It’s also worth remembering that there are still a host of players waiting patiently in the wings for their opportunities, with Foden, Morgan Gibbs-White, Angel Gomes, and Ryan Sessegnon all having tasted varying amounts of Premier League football, but yet to establish themselves as first choice, while Callum Hudson-Odoi is likely to be a starter for Lampard once he returns from injury, and Freddie Woodman has impressed in the opening weeks of his loan spell at Swansea City, having played his part in helping the Swans to the top of the Championship.

Mason Mount’s inclusion in Southgate’s squad for the first international break of the season also suggests that the national team manager will give youth the chance they deserve, and with a major tournament on the horizon, there will be plenty of new faces clamouring for a place in the squad come next summer. The pool for England’s manager suddenly resembles an ocean.

Taking a stroll up the avenue of anguish this week is Sarah Ponsford, who’s been a devoted Gashead since the age of eight, when she started attending matches at Bristol Rovers’ Memorial Ground with her Dad. Now living in London, Sarah is a contributor to This Fan Girl, a digital community that celebrates female football supporters, providing a voice for the stories and opinions of women who love the beautiful game.

Members of the Football League since 1920, The Gas had enjoyed a solid if unspectacular ninety-plus years in the lower leagues. Each decade would generally see the club either promoted or relegated between the second and third tiers of English football, and beyond their cup exploits in the 50s and 70s, a run to the FA Cup quarter finals in 2008, knocking out Fulham and Southampton on the way was as close as Rovers have come to hitting national headlines. At the turn of the 21st Century, The Gas were demoted to the fourth tier for the first time in their history, and narrowly avoided falling out of the Football League the following season. The goals of Richard Walker and Rickie Lambert saw them bounce back up into League One in 2007, but the sales of their best players and an increasingly leaky defence would see their stay last just four seasons.

By the start of the 2013/14 season, Rovers had drifted into midtable obscurity in League Two, and things would only get worse…

Bristol Rovers 0-1 Mansfield Town
English Football League Two
3rd May 2014

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Currently making up the numbers in League One, Bristol Rovers have been in the third tier for three seasons having won back-to-back promotions from the National League in 2015 via Playoffs, then in League Two after a dramatic injury time winner from Lee Brown (now at Portsmouth, still lower league dynamite). There have been many memorable moments from the past 20 years supporting Rovers. Some of the best days of my life…but this feature is about opening up healed wounds, and rubbing a shit ton of salt in there while you’re at it.

The day we were relegated from the Football League would have to be one of the worst days in my life. We had an abysmal end to the season which saw us plummet into a relegation battle, winning just two of our last 11 games. But it wasn’t just the league position – it was everything about the club, and something I had never witnessed before and since at The Mem.

The right attitude goes a long way at the club seeing as we have next to no funding. That 2013-2014 season, the attitude of some of the players wasn’t even disheartening – it was an “I don’t care” manner which caused a ripple effect of frustration out to the supporters in the stands. We knew they weren’t trying. Many of us remarked on this atmosphere both on and off the field as being “toxic”.

Coming into the last day of the season, home to Mansfield, and we were favourites to stay up. All we needed was a draw. Subsequently, we lost 1-0. To make matters worse? We were relegated on goal difference – just 4 additional goals across the previous 45 games would have been enough to keep us safe. We were now a non-league side.

In the run up to the game, I had a sinking feeling. Statistically the odds were for us, but the way they were playing, the management, and atmosphere around the club made you believe that the worst was about to happen. And of course, it did.

The game itself? You know when it’s just one of those days. We had plenty of shots, hit the crossbar numerous times, it just wasn’t happening. Details of the game are lost, but that feeling as the full whistle blew was emptiness.

The aftermath of the game was the worst I’ve seen. Police horses were brought out to control the irate crowd as some ran onto the pitch to confront players and management. The journey home which was usually a flurry of typical Dad comments about how rubbish the people they pick to speak on the radio were was just silence. Rovers had exhausted me, and it’s the emotions I remember so vividly. That tense feeling, sheer frustration, and then the heartbreak. It wasn’t one of those situations where the results were out of your hands – we had the chips and royally fucked it up.

To end on a positive note, the following season was actually one of my favourites, if not favourite, of my time supporting Rovers. We hired Darrel Clarke – a very promising young manager now at Walsall. He spent the summer getting rid of all the dead wood just there to pick up their cheques. He had a knack for scouting great players too, despite the complete lack of budget. Matty Taylor (dare I say his name since his move to the other side of Bristol) was released by Forest Green and moved to us on free transfer. Regardless of his colours now, I think most Gasheads will agree that his time at Rovers was vital in getting us back into league football. But it was the team as a whole – they were a unit and that season felt like having my old Rovers back again. I don’t know one fan who isn’t grateful for Clarke’s contribution to the club.

There were other pluses. We didn’t have the luxury of those tiny second highlights on football league shows, so fans would create their own on YouTube and other social channels. I imagine sales of portable batteries in north Bristol boomed in 2013-2014. The away game against Woking saw so many Gas turned up that they weren’t allowed in the ground and had to watch through the fencing on the outskirts. The season ended with a trip to Wembley winning promotion on penalties against Grimbsy.

The following season was just as dramatic and saw us promoted again after clinching the last automatic promotion spot in League Two on the last day of the season from an injury time goal.

It’s that old saying – sometimes you have to hit rock bottom. We’ve seen this with clubs like Leyton Orient, AFC Wimbledon, and Dulwich Hamlet who were kicked out of their ground due to hellish property developers. This was definitely the case for Rovers. In the space of 4 years and 3 leagues later, that day was the kick up the backside that was definitely needed.

League One is a great league. Nearly a third of teams are different every season and there’s such a variety of clubs and away days. Of course, I wouldn’t say no to another promotion though. One thing is for sure, the importance of goal difference will never be lost on me.

Thanks to Sarah for sharing the painful memories of Bristol Rovers’ relegation from the Football League in 2014. It would be remiss of us not to point you in the direction of Sarah’s Instagram. Meanwhile you can check out the work Sarah and a whole raft of talented female fans do with This Fan Girl on their website, or follow them on Twitter. 

After a glimmer of hope thanks to late interest from Consultancy firm C&N Sporting Risk, Bury FC were eventually expelled from the Football League on Tuesday 27th August, thanks to the financial mismanagement of Dale and his predecessor Stewart Day, and mounting debts that the club could not guarantee paying. It is a sad indictment on the state of English football in 2019 that such a storied institution could fall so far and so fast, though Bury’s is a tale that has been written with happier endings across the country over the past 25 years. Crystal Palace, Queens Park Rangers, Leicester City, Derby County, Leeds United and Southampton are just some of the so-called ‘bigger’ clubs that have been plunged into administration since the beginning of the money-spinning Premier League era, while the plights of fellow FA Cup winners Coventry City and Portsmouth in recent years have played out on the back pages, as both clubs creeped towards the brink of ruin before late reprieves.

At the time of writing, there is the smallest chink of light at the end of the tunnel for The Shakers, with concrete rumours that a takeover is on the table provided that Bury MPs James Frith and Ivan Lewis are successful in their bid to convince the EFL to overturn their decision to expel the club from the Football League. With no precedent in place, and still no guarantees that the club are able to clear their debt and keep themselves financially afloat for the remainder of the season, the chances of the league’s governing body reversing their decision are slim. Should Frith and Lewis be unsuccessful, the likelihood of any takeover of the club going through decreases dramatically, leaving Bury FC staring at the prospect of liquidation.

Supporters group Forever Bury have already begun preparations for the worst, and preliminary discussions around forming a phoenix club have taken place. Among the waves of condolence on social media, fans of Newport County and AFC Wimbledon have expressed their encouragement for Bury supporters to establish a new, fan-owned club to rid themselves of the mess that Dale and Day have left in their wake. But while a return to the EFL might feel light years away, there are a set of supporters for whom an enforced departure from the Football League now feels like a distant memory.

Maidstone United were the last club to drop out of England’s professional leagues without being relegated. Promoted to the old Division Four in 1989 thanks to some ‘ambitious’ overspending, the sale of their ground a year earlier to comply with Football League stadium size regulations had seen them sharing with Dartford for the following three years, a move which had caused attendences to fall drastically. In a bid to convince fans to return to games, Maidstone’s owners shelled out £400,000 to secure a patch of land in the town for a new stadium, but crucially hadn’t secured planning permission from the council.

With debts mounting both on and off the pitch, the club were forced to sell their best players in a bid to survive, simultaneously attempting to court new owners with little luck. A bid to merge Maidstone United with Newcastle Blue Star in the North East failed to get off the ground, and with debts spiralling out of control, no home stadium to play their games at, and only two senior players on their books, the club were forced to cancel their opening game of the season, before eventually resigning from the league on 17th August 1992, two days after the opening fixtures of the first Premier League season.

We caught up with author, journalist, former ballboy and lifelong Maidstone United fan Fred Atkins, whose book Exodus: Maidstone United 1988-2012 recounts the club’s 24 years without a stadium – covering their departure from the Football League, their resurrection, and the long road back from ruin – to discuss the feeling around the club at the time.

“It had been coming for so long no one was surprised. The whistle was blown in 1984, when a number of directors quit saying Jim Thompson was running the club autocratically. It was ignored because the club was, on the face of it, a success, the so-called ‘Manchester United of non-league football.’ There was no opposition when he sold the ground in 1988, because he kept the deal under wraps until it was too late to do anything about it.

“The money we got from selling the ground helped us to the Conference title, but it cost a huge amount to get the Dartford’s ground up to the standard needed for the Football League. When Maidstone Borough Council turned down planning permission for a new stadium, that effectively killed the club. Thompson had bet everything on his plan being accepted, even though there was clear evidence it would be refused.

“As there was no ground there was nowhere to congregate when the resignation was announced. There was no organisation among supporters. You can’t quantify the damage of 24 years without a football ground in the town. Dartford suffered too,  as Thompson sold off their ground to pay off his debts they were left without a home until 2006.”

Within days of Maidstone United’s liquidation, a ‘takeover’ of Maidstone Invicta, a local youth team, was completed in a bid to create a new club for the local community to rally around. Contrary to the phoenix-like rise of AFC Wimbledon however, interest in the new club from disillusioned supporters was hardly fervent.

“Not many fans got behind it, that was the problem. It was badly run from the start, Jim Thompson was still lurking in the background and he’d alienated so many businesses, politicians and people who might have helped us it was impossible to get meaningful commercial interest. To be frank, it was such a low level there was almost nothing to get behind.”

Without a stadium, Invicta failed to meet the required standards towards the top end of non-league football, and were effectively relegated to the basement of English football, starting over in the Kent County League Division Four, at Level 15 of the football pyramid, and playing their games on the old Maidstone United training pitches. Better news would follow as chairman Jim Thompson was banned from football for his part in the downfall of both Maidstone and Dartford, being replaced by Paul Bowden-Brown.

With a playing staff made up from Maidstone United’s youth team, the newly-formed Invicta walked promotion from the Fourth Division in their first season. In 1997, the club took on the Maidstone United moniker once again, but a return to their former glories was still a long way off. It would take until 2001 for the Stones to reach the Kent County League Premier Division, still seven tiers below the Football League.

“If you suffer the equivalent of nine relegations at once there really is only one way to go, but it took an absurd amount of time to get back into senior football. We were almost always the biggest team in the division, right up until we hit the National League, which by then, was a division which in terms of quality and infrastructure was as strong if not stronger than Division 4 when we left it.”

By 2006, Maidstone United had achieved promotion to the Isthmian Premier League and were working on the construction of their own stadium. With limited funds available, the club had to make do with staving off relegation from the seventh tier until moving into their new home. The takeover in 2010 by Oliver Ash and Terry Casey precipitated a host of changes at the club, none of which were able to save the Stones from relegation. Better news would follow in 2012, as Maidstone United finally moved into a ground they could call their own, with James Whatman Way opening in July. Encouraged by the return of the club to the town, crowds of more than 1,500 regularly turned up to cheer the Stones on the following season, as promotion back to the Isthmian Premier League was secured via the playoffs.

Now on a roll, the resurrected Maidstone United reached the first round proper of the FA Cup in 2014, beating League Two Stevenage Borough in a replay. The Stones would go on to win promotion to the National League South that season, and achieve back-to-back promotions the following year. Twenty-four years after their resignation from the Football League and demotion to the lowest reaches of non-league, Maidstone United were finally within touching distance of a return. After three seasons in the National League, the Stones were sadly relegated last year. For Fred Atkins, there has been plenty of light and shade in the last 27 years.

“I’d say the club is better run now than it ever was in the past, but it’s also difficult to see the wilderness years as any kind of blessing. Football may have made strides since Maidstone left the Football League, but not all of those strides have been in the right direction. It’s as badly governed as ever, it’s just different. Before you had well-meaning duffers in charge, now it’s slick, corporate actors like Crozier and Scudamore.”

For Bury FC and their supporters, the message is clear. The road back will be long and arduous, the importance of ridding the club of Dale and retaining their place at Gigg Lane is paramount, but one day, in the not too distant future, you can have your club back and begin looking forwards once again.

“If I had a message for Bury supporters it would be this: Your Saturdays are going to feel pretty empty this season. After that it’ll get better.”

Thank you to Fred Atkins for giving his time to answer questions on Maidstone United’s return from football’s abyss. Alongside ‘Exodus’, Fred is also the co-author of Monty Panesar’s autobiography ‘The Full Monty’, and the novel ‘Welcome To Kent: Sorry About The Racists’.

This week’s guest in the seat of defeat is Paddy from 90sFootball. Software developer by day, nostalgia content machine by night, and Norwich City supporter round the clock, Norfolk-born Paddy has been following the Canaries since he was old enough to understand why all those people were going bezerk when that sphere went into the big rectangle. As a Norwich City fan, its unsurprising that Paddy has carved an impressive social media following out of content from the early days of the Premier League, given the relative success at Carrow Road throughout the period, as Mike Walker’s side took on (and beat) some of the best sides in England and Europe. Straying from his usual niche however, Paddy has dipped his toe into the new millennium, when Ronan Keating was number one in the charts, About A Boy was screening at your local Showcase Cinema, and the BBC launched its new channel for arty-farty cerebral types, BBC Four. More pertinently, Norwich City were on the brink of a return to the top flight after seven years away.

The Mike Walker debacle had left the Canaries in a tailspin at the end of the 1993/94 season, and a woeful run of one win in twenty games at the end of the following campaign had seen them fall through the Premier League trapdoor alongside Crystal Palace, Leicester City and rivals Ipswich Town. With most of the talented squad that had led them to the UEFA Cup now plying their trade elsewhere, Norwich struggled to mount anything approaching a serious challenge for promotion over the following six seasons. The emergence of young talents like Darren Eadie, Danny Mills and Craig Bellamy were enough to see the club remain on a stable financial footing, but beyond the goals of Iwan Roberts there was little to shout about following consecutive lower mid-table finishes in the First Division.

Following the resignation of Bryan Hamilton in December 2000, former Sheffield Wednesday and Leeds United defender Nigel Worthington took the reigns at Carrow Road, steering the side away from the relegation zone by the end of the season. A 4-0 defeat at Millwall on the opening day of the 2001/02 campaign suggested that the Norfolk side might be spending another year scrapping towards the wrong end of the table, but six wins in their next seven games saw Norwich sitting pretty in the playoff spots by the end of September. Having assembled a team combining the experience of Roberts, Malky Mackay, Craig Fleming and Daryl Sutch, along with the exuberance of youngsters Robert Green, Adam Drury, Phil Mulryne and Darel Russell, Worthington encouraged a gung-ho style of football, with the Canaries going into each game as likely to win 2-1 as they were to lose 5-0.

After a tricky spell in the new year, in which they picked up just ten points from a possible thirty-six, another stellar run of five wins in seven at the end of the season saw Norwich nip into the playoffs ahead of Burnley by virtue of having a +1 better goal difference. A narrow victory over third-placed Wolves in the semi-finals set up a meeting with Birmingham City at the Millennium Stadium, a game eagerly anticipated by the pre-90sFootball Paddy…

Norwich City 1-1 Birmingham City
(Birmingham City win 4-2 on penalties)
First Division Play-off Final
12th May 2002

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I was too young to truly appreciate our previous spell in the Premier League, so from a personal point of view the playoff final presented the possibility of properly watching my club appear in the top division. I moved away from Norwich at a young age and there weren’t many First Division games on TV back then, so it would have give me a better chance to watch Norwich on a more regular basis – plus a chance to finally collect stickers for Merlin’s Premier League sticker album with some Norwich players in!

I watched the game on TV in the lounge with my Dad. My Dad’s a Grimsby fan, but had spent some time in Norwich so took an interest in it too. I would have loved to have been there, but sadly we weren’t close to Cardiff or Carrow Road so I had to get my fix from the rare occasion we were on TV or from browsing teletext.

I think with any final you’re optimistic about the 90 minutes ahead of you, especially when both clubs have had similar seasons. We’d had a very strong end to the season, winning five out of the last seven and had beaten a very strong Wolves side in the Semi-Finals, so I was certainly feeling good about our chances. Plus, with my Dad supporting Grimsby I went to the Auto Windscreens Shield Final and Second Division Playoff Final in 1998 which both resulted in wins for the Mariners, and these things come in threes… right?

The game itself was certainly a frustrating affair for both fans, with both teams missing a host of chances to seal the game before extra time. It certainly shouldn’t have come to this, but here we both were, only 30 minutes away from the Premier League. Iwan Roberts, who had only came off the bench late into the second half, popped up almost immediately in the first half of extra time to score a brilliant header giving Norwich the advantage. We held on for about ten minutes, but Geoff Horsfield equalised towards the end of the first half. That left fifteen minutes for either side to find a winner and avoid a dreaded penalty shootout. The goal never came and to penalties it was.

Norwich didn’t have a great penalty record at that point, and that record continued. Phil Mulryne and Daryl Sutch missed consecutive penalties, so it was Birmingham City that secured promotion. That was it. The dream was over.

In the immediate aftermath I was very simply gutted, I mean, who wouldn’t be? The Premier League dream was over for another year, and as there were so many strong teams in the First Division, you’re never quite sure when you’re going to get another chance.

Having grown up watching England in the 90s, for Norwich to lose in the manner they did made me dread penalty shootouts even more. But it actually spurred me on to get to more games at Carrow Road rather than watching them on the TV. I soon realised that there’s nothing better than watching your team in the flesh, the jubilation when you get that last minute winner. And for that, I’m very grateful.

Following the playoff final defeat, we actually kept pretty much all of the squad together and had a good manager in Nigel Worthington, so I was certainly optimistic that next season would be as good or even better. Ultimately we just fell short of the play-offs in the 2002/03 season, but after signing a certain Darren Huckerby we excelled in 2003/04 and won the league in style. I can’t tell you the excitement of being able to collect stickers of players from my club. It’s the little things in life, isn’t it?

Thanks to Paddy for providing his outlook on Norwich City’s playoff penalty heartbreak from 2002. You can follow Paddy’s 90sFootball account on Twitter.

By now we’d been attending our local team’s home matches for half a season. It wasn’t unusual to hear home fans barracking their own players, however counter-intuitive that seemed to my young brain. What I hadn’t heard before was skin colour being used as some kind of qualifier for an insult. It instantly jarred. The player in question had quickly become one of my favourites, owing to his brace in the first live match I ever attended, and so any criticism thrown his way was met with my internal disapproval. This felt different however. The spite in my fellow fan’s voice provoked a physical reaction in the pit of my stomach.

I didn’t speak out because, well, I was ten years old and as much of a coward as I am now. Nobody else spoke out either. For context, this game took place in a market town in the East of England, in a constituency that would later record the largest leave vote in the country for the 2016 EU Referendum.

In the hundreds of games I’ve attended since, at grassroots, non-league, and professional level, across the UK and in Europe, I haven’t encountered another incident of racist abuse. I, and perhaps millions of others, might have been fooled into thinking it was something that no longer happened in this country. Racism on the terraces seemed to belong to the distant past, to the times of Cyrille Regis, Lawrie Cunningham and Brendan Batson. Abuse of BAME players became something that happened elsewhere; in Spain, Italy, and Eastern Europe. We’d chalk up the accusations against the likes of John Terry, Luis Suarez, and Emre Belözoğlu as one-offs, and point to Ron Atkinson as ‘part of the old school’ in a bid to maintain the charade, while simultaneously airing hand-wringing documentaries about the climate of racism in Poland, Ukraine and Russia ahead of major international tournaments.

“We’ve got to get our own house in order. There are things going on in our own country that aren’t correct. Until we do, I think we should stop firing off those things elsewhere”
Gareth Southgate, speaking ahead of the 2018 World Cup

Fans directing Islamophobic chants towards Egyptian striker Mido, anti-semitic songs at Tottenham Hotspur fans and former Chelsea and West Ham manager Avram Grant, and even, in the case of Ji-Sung Park, singing culturally insensitive songs towards their own players, were marked out as ‘the noisy minority’, the ‘few that spoil it for everyone else’. The deeper the football authorities have buried their heads in the sand, the louder that so-called minority have got. In their annual summary, campaigners for equality in football Kick It Out have seen reports of discrimination rise season-on-season since 2011. In 2018/19, these reports rose by 32%, with a 42.7% rise in reports of race-related discrimination on the previous season. Racism in English football is reaching critical mass.

The debate has been pulled into sharp focus in the last few weeks after a slew of incidents on social media in which footballers missing penalties have been the target for racist abuse from their own supporters. Reading’s Yakou Meite, Chelsea’s Tammy Abraham and Manchester United pair Paul Pogba and Marcus Rashford have all been singled out by Twitter users, with the Pogba incident in particular leading to a long-overdue moral panic from the club, the FA, players and pundits alike.

“Give enough social media users enough keyboards and they will eventually write the works of Shakespeare, but it’ll take eons because so many of them will be busy revealing themselves to be dickheads.”
Daniel Storey, Football365

In the week following the targeting of Pogba, Kick It Out joined forces with Manchester United and arranged to meet with Twitter representatives with a view to thrashing out a plan to protect BAME footballers from online abuse. Meanwhile, the social media site has reportedly drawn up a plan to ‘monitor the accounts of fifty high-profile black footballers’ in order to get a grasp of the size of the issue. Whether this gesture proves to be as tokenistic as it sounds – surely a more proactive plan would send a stronger message to users – remains to be seen, but given the platform’s chequered history in combating hatespeech, this latest guarantee promises to do little more than pay the problem lip service.

Elsewhere, players and pundits have put forward their own suggestions as to how the worlds of football and social media can team up to counter online abuse, with Pogba’s teammate Harry Maguire donning his New Labour cap and calling for forms of identification to become part of the sign-up process for new accounts. Whilst this may tackle the issue of anonymity online, as well as prevent those with banned accounts re-registering with a different email address, it has the potential to lead us headlong into a world of identity fraud and concerns around data protection.

Phil Neville meanwhile has called for professional footballers to boycott social media altogether, removing the privilege for supporters to connect with their heroes that sites like Twitter have used as their USP for so long. Whilst this tallies with Neville’s suggestions that he would lead the England Women’s team off the pitch if they were ever subject to racist abuse during a game, there’s the sense that a boycott would not only be seen as a victory for the perpetrators, but also offers only a short-term solution for a longer term problem.

In a broader sense, there’s a split of opinion among social media users when it comes to combating abuse online. Those condemning racist posts have been met with responses that suggest amplifying these users only encourages their actions. Others simply feel that the best course of action is to ignore it and hope it goes away. That these opinions are largely shared from accounts of those that have not personally received abuse is perhaps telling. It is far easier to ignore something that has little to no impact on your own sense of identity.

While Twitter have agreed to look into ways to stem the rise of racism on its platform, they’ve also been quick to absolve themselves of total responsibility. And that’s fair enough – discrimination wasn’t invented by those who can only form opinions in 180 characters. Responding to initial queries around the abuse of Pogba, a spokesman for Twitter said, “This is a societal issue and requires a societal response.” Now if only there had been some kind of all-encompassing divide in British society in the last few years, perhaps we could land on a root cause for the new wave of racism in English football…

In all seriousness, Brexit is not wholly responsible for the upturn in incidents of discrimination. Whilst “legitimate concerns” around immigration were undoubtedly a major factor in the victory for Leave in 2016, to suggest every vote for Leave was a vote for intolerance is irresponsible and disingenuous. Any sensible, balanced commentator on the topic wouldn’t stoop so low as to state this as fact. Those that stand to benefit from that narrative – for example that it bolsters their own prejudiced beliefs – are a different story. There will be members of the British public that didn’t even vote in the referendum that have taken their cues from the sloganeering of the Leave campaign, deliberately misreading the phrase ‘Take Back Control’ and using it to their own ends.

“If we’re seeing a rise in hate crime, the Home Office is seeing a rise in hate crime and other bodies are seeing a rise in hate crime, it’s linked because that’s what is going on in society at the moment. If it’s there, we’ll see it in football”
 Roisin Wood, CEO of Kick It Out, speaking to BBC Sport

It can be said with near certainty that racism in British society has become more visible since the result of the EU referendum. In a poll by the Guardian conducted in February 2019, 71% of people from ethnic minorities reported having faced racial discrimination, compared with 58% in January 2016. If its happening on our streets, is it any great surprise that it has returned to our stadiums and now pervades our discourse online?

Since the referendum instances of racist abuse towards players in the Premier League have risen dramatically. Just last season, Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang was targeted by Tottenham supporters during the North London derby, West Ham and Chelsea fans aimed Islamophobic chants toward Mohamed Salah, Brighton’s Gaetan Bong was subjected to abuse by a Burnley fan, whilst the racist barracking of Raheem Sterling at Stamford Bridge prompted the Manchester City forward to take to social media and address the issue head on. Because whilst Brexit has emboldened racists to air their backwards views publicly, there has long been a quarter of the British media informing and encouraging their point of view.

There’s more than a little irony in the fact that Rupert Murdoch’s BSkyB company played a major role in moving the top flight of English football away from its dark past of hooliganism and intolerance on the terraces to the shiny multicultural cash-shitting machine is it today, particularly given the Antipodean coffin-dodger’s stranglehold on Britain’s right-wing tabloid media. Murdoch’s News Corp are responsible for the sluice of sewage that pollutes our newsagents and baby-boomer relatives homes in the twin guises of The Sun and The Daily Mail, both of whom not only banged the drum for Brexit with the sustained demonisation of immigrants, but have also been found guilty of singling out black footballers for criticism over the most trifling matters. By engendering an ‘Us and Them’ narrative, both publications earn their fair share of responsibility for the rise of racism in English football.

Rather than spending time pointing blame, it would perhaps be more beneficial for those in the media and positions of real power to begin formulating a plan to tackle this issue sooner rather than later. Tangible punishments for those spouting racial abuse online and at games must be introduced and enforced. The FA, Twitter, and football clubs at every level must be seen to be taking this matter seriously and, moving down the chain of responsibility, we as supporters can also play our part. Reporting accounts on social media, and reporting abuse in the stands is the very least we can do. I was ten years old when I first heard racist abuse at a football match. I knew it was wrong. Let’s not allow the next generation of supporters grow up thinking it isn’t.

Taking her turn in the Chair of Despair this week is Jasmine Baba, editor for Betfair, freelance writer, and long-suffering Arsenal supporter. A child of the Wenger Era, Jasmine grew up on a diet of free-flowing football, incredible goals, and trophies galore. The good times, it seemed, would never end. In their final five years at Highbury, the Gunners lifted two Premier League titles, including their season as ‘The Invincibles’, and three FA Cups, as they prepared to head to their new home at Ashburton Grove. Unbeknownst to Arsenal’s supporters however, the penalty shootout victory over Manchester United in the 2005 FA Cup final would be the club’s last honour for nine years.

Reaching the Champions League final the following season, only to lose out against Barcelona in Paris, the nucleus of Arsene Wenger’s second double-winning side began to disband, as Dennis Bergkamp retired, Robert Pires and Thierry Henry packed their bags for Spain, and Ashley Cole and Freddie Ljungberg moved to opposite ends of London. In their stead, a fresh breed of exciting European youngsters were charged with restoring Arsenal to the top of English football, with Cesc Fabregas – already a stalwart of the side despite his tender years – Robin van Persie and Theo Walcott becoming integral to the first team. Seasons soon passed without a sniff of silverware. A League Cup final here, a Champions League semi there, but nothing to add to the FA Cup beginning to gather dust in the trophy cabinet.

By the 2012/13 season, Arsenal’s supporters were beginning to lose patience with their longstanding leader. With little to spend in the transfer market thanks to the move to the Emirates Stadium, Wenger had seemingly lost his knack of unearthing bargains from overseas and, since the departure of Jens Lehmann, a team formerly famed for their miserly defence had suffered instability at the back. Languishing outside the top four in the Premier League, and with a tricky tie against Bayern Munich to come, the FA Cup was looking the best bet for Arsenal to end their trophy drought.

Having limped past Swansea City in a third round replay before hurdling the banana skin of Brighton away in round four, the fifth round draw had thrown up a kinder tie for the Gunners, with Championship side Blackburn Rovers due to make the trip down to North London. What could go wrong? 

Arsenal 0-1 Blackburn Rovers
FA Cup Fifth Round
16th Feburary, 2013

“

Cast your mind back to 16th February 2013. The blistery cold of winter was still clinging onto dear life, without showing signs of spring. The Premier League season, and the summer before, had already been a long one.

At this time I was 21, working in retail, and was throwing myself more into the one thing I felt I really had. Football.

I had always been more into watching football matches as a child, mainly because of my three, much older, siblings who would make me watch and listen with them. I loved it. It was one of those aspects that you and your family had, a special bond that you all enjoy. It was within my blood.

I remember when I was in my early teens, boys would be surprised by someone with my knowledge, and my defiance as an Arsenal fan. I remember “bandwagon” Manchester United fans taking the mick – in a North West London school – just before the FA Cup final in 2005. Safe to say the Monday after I wore my Arsenal bag with pride.

Even in the latter parts of college, there were nights out where, sat on pub benches,  I’d go into a football-laced rant at peers and people I had just met, and they’d look shocked and say, “you really know your stuff!”

Now, that date I mentioned at the start of this piece might be insignificant to you, and probably to many Gooners too, but it was important to me. As I said I was throwing myself more into my love and that year I was earning enough to get myself to more matches and bought an Arsenal red membership. A milestone.

We were playing three games in seven days, in three different competitions. For some reason, in the second half of a season where we’d lost our best player to a rival team (that was Robin Van Persie to Manchester United, they went onto win the league), and where we’d already lost six games in the Premier League, leaving us fifth, four points off our bitter rivals Tottenham, I thought to buy tickets for each one of these home games at the Emirates.

The 16th February 2013 was the first of those. An FA Cup fifth round clash against Championship outfit Blackburn Rovers, a more than winnable game. The tickets were cheaper, so we made a family day out of it, consisting of my siblings and one of my closest cousins. The next two games that followed was a Champions League round of 16 fixture against Bayern Munich, and then to round it off, a home game against Aston Villa. Tickets were harder to come by and more expensive for the other two, and FA Cup matches are always fun. Our minds were decided, we were all going to go to Arsenal v Blackburn.

The day started with optimism. Arsene Wenger had never lost to lower league opposition in the FA Cup before, a record spanning 17 years. We hadn’t exactly looked good in December but the new year-round of fixtures, apart from a little wobble away at Chelsea made us look like we were coming back into form. We were already 21 points off Manchester United at the top of the Premier League table and we were playing for top four, but we still could win the FA Cup, and we were still in the Champions League. Blackburn were nothing to fear.

We got to the stadium and found our seats, we were four rows from the goal, if any goals came in our side, we’d be in shot. Lovely scenes.

Except, they never did.

Pre-match optimism had been eroded by the a typical Arsenal performance; we looked on top, had most of the possession, all the chances, yet nothing came. As fans it was nothing we weren’t used to, but it was a strong line up against a Championship team. The atmosphere became tense. How many times had the Gunners been dominant only to lose pathetically? Many. It’s just that I had never seen it happen in front of my own eyes before.

Tomas Rosicky showed flashes of brilliance, but any balls threaded through the Blackburn defence were greeted by Gervinho, and one football memory that will always be burnt onto my brain is him missing what was essentially an open goal by four yards. Just metres away from me. Funnily enough it wasn’t the first time that season he’d done it; in December we crashed of the League Cup to Bradford and he’d missed a similar chance.

The deadlock was broken in the 72nd minute by Colin Kazim-Richards. You could hear a pin drop in the Gunners end (no jokes please), and a jubilant Rovers crowd overtook North London. You didn’t watch the last 18 minutes. We had already seen this film, read this story, been here, done it and got the t-shirt. Full-time was almost a relief.

“Well we still have the Champions League,” – I’m not sure I felt that at full-time. Going from a loss against a lower league team up against one of the best teams in the world didn’t have me exactly excited for the next few days. My worries weren’t for nothing, as we lost 3-1 at home to Bayern, which all but sealed our exit from the Champions League. Yet again, for an eighth season we’d be empty-handed.

However as down as I was that day, it was all made up next season; we sold Gervinho (who managed to only muster nine goals in 46 apps) and we won the FA Cup. Our first bit of silverware for nine years.

That defeat, along with the success after, taught me that football is a funny old game indeed.

Thanks to Jasmine for sharing her memories of Arsenal’s dismal defeat to Blackburn from 2013. You can follow Jasmine on Twitter, and find examples of her work at That Baba Girl, alongside her weekly Major League Baseball column.