Ain't no doubt it's plain to see that Bradford Town are the team for me. He's lying.

Bradford Town FC v Almondsbury UWE FC

Monday 5th April 2010
Toolstation League Division One

Bradford on Avon Sports and Social Club, Bradford on Avon
Attendance: 60(ish)

What better way to spend Easter Monday than a stroll around a picturesque town on the River Avon, a pub lunch and some tinpot football? Well, yes I'm sure there are at least 17 better ways to spend the day but I'm sure this is the option the Lord would have wanted me to choose and it is his special weekend or something like that.

It was actually a honour to be in Bradford on Avon, it's not every due you get to spend time in the home of the the Victorian Tea Rooms, Britain's 'Tea Room of The Year 2009'. A cream tea wasn't the best pre-match meal so I and opted for a mediocre BLT sandwich in "the sports bar" of The Riverside Inn. Quite what made the barmaid designate this part of the pub as "the sports bar" wasn't obviously apparent. The three criteria I could see was a) a very shifty looking bloke perched uncomfortably on a bar stool streaming the Yeovil - Leeds game onto a laptop and then onto a filthy wall; b) a pencil drawing of David Beckham and c) a mangy dog chasing a tennis ball from the adjoining non sports bar.

The Bradford on Avon sports bar.

A warm welcome to Bradford on Avon.

After startling the man collecting the entrance fee, who wasn't use to seeing someone under the age of 60 in the ground, or arrive 45 minutes before kick off so I then had to sit awkwardly in a near empty ground. Still, plenty of time for a brew, in a proper mug (a proper mug!!) and enjoy the classic 60's tunes on the PA. They were all there, 'Why Must I Be a Teenager in Love' by Bobby Vinton, 'Heartbeat' by Buddy Holly and Claude Greengrass, and the not so classic 'Come Outside' by Mike Faran, which features call and response lyrics by an arguing couple - a musical genre that peaked with Ain't No Doubt by Jimmy Nail.

The warm up by Almondsbury UWE, a side linked to the University of the West of England was tinpot comedy. Their warm up seemed to consist of a bit of leathering the ball around, throwing the ball at each other rugby style, some ridiculous chest bumping nonsense and a little shuttle run/jump/high five combo action. Quite how this was going to give them the edge in the game wasn't entirely obvious, they seemed to be re-enacting some sort of drunken student night shenanigans and I must admit to being disappointed that the Goalkeeper wasn't put in a shopping trolley with a traffic cone on his head and skidded into the gimmers on the bowling green next to the pitch whilst vomiting up a kebab.

The match itself was surprisingly pretty good, both teams played some nice football and some moves saw more than 4 passes put together, which is a novelty at this level. Bradford took the lead after 8 minutes after the ref gave a pretty dubious penalty after the Bradford striker was fouled after he'd shanked a shot into the brambles around the pitch when clean through. They score again not long before half time after a great little move which culminated in the portly number 10 distracting the non traffic cone wearing keeper with a pot noodle and scoring from 5 yards.

As is usual half time served as a break between the two halves of football, as is it's stated purpose. It's more important task today was to serve as the vessel in which the half time raffle for a bottle of Baileys would find its new home through some amazing work by an antiquated number generation machine. Thankfully I was two tickets away from suffering the ignominy of having to claim a bottle of the filthy liqueur and spend the second half holding it on the terraces and looking a bit more of a knob than I really needed to.

If only The National Lottery was carried out on such a wondeful contraption.

Back to the match. Both teams continued to knock it round nicely and Bradford extended their lead shortly after the Baileys break, with the number 10 scoring again from a couple of yards.

Back away from the match. There was a distinct lack of oddballs, other than myself, at the game and that was clearly a big disappointment for me, it's what the tinpot matchday experience is all about - No dogs in hoddies - nothing. It's all very respectable round here, sadly.

Token match shot.

And back to the match. The ref seemed to spend most of the match shouting at the players "don't foul", quite why he needed to do this I'm not sure. He's doing himself out of a job, if there's no fouls then there's nothing for him to do. Maybe he could offer a bit of alternate advice "twat him", "break the fuckers legs" every now and then just to liven things up a bit. I'd approve.

He also took a fair amount of stick from the Almondsbury manager, most of it unwarranted and maybe if he'd thought of a more rigorous training routine than some synchronised high five twattery his team might have been a bit more competitive. Exasperated with the ref the Almondsbury manager bellows "you've got short guy syndrome haven't you ref", which was as childish as it was ridiculous given the Almondsbury managers minuscule stature, hats off to the ref for grinning and nodding at the fat berk.

Weymouth v Weston Super Mare. Another low.

Weymouth FC v Weston Super Mare
Saturday 3rd April, 2010
Conference South
Wessex Stadium, Weymouth
Attendance: 502

This weeks 'That Would Only Happen at Weymouth' moment.

Father of Weymouth player runs on pitch and attacks Weston Super Mare player (allegedly of course) after last minute defeat. Please, will this season just end now.

Dorset Echo Link

Weymouth V Thurrock.

Weymouth FC v Thurrock FC
Saturday 27th March, 2010
Conference South
Wessex Stadium, Weymouth
Attendance: 364

I wasn't at this game. I wish I was. Our first game since the CVA was granted and the latest stay of execution, or the latest in the slashes as part of our death by a thousand cuts, occurred the day before. Weymouth drew 0-0, a fantastic result for the team. A 0-0 on the back of a 7-1 defeat is an amazing performance, especially when the team is essentially our reserve team. It also makes it even better when you see the reaction of the Thurrock manager Hakan Hayrettin, who wasn't so happy with the result, as this video would seem to suggest.

Hopefully its embedded here and works, if not click the text above.




It's a fantastic feeling that my team can provoke such a reaction from a manager, that a squad of players got an almighty bollocking in the dressing room because they couldn't beat the players representing my club and the fact it provoked an rant of epic proportions makes it all the more satisfying.

In the words of Kevin Keegan "I would love it" if every managerial post match interview was like this rather than the anodyne media trained say nothing crap we get most of the time. Hats off to Hakan for his rant, he uses his rant to call the whole team useless, slate no less than 5 individual players ("I cant depend on Rob Swain, he keeps coming off Rob Swain, whats all that about? Every week he wants to come off. I don't understand it") , dock the wages of 4 who didn't play (struck down with "Weymouthitis") and transfer list the whole team! Good work fella.

Although, if I was the Thurrock chairman - which, thankfully and somewhat obviously, I am not - I would question the judgement and sanity of a man who wears a scarf on the outside of this coat and is also able to slip in a little bit of Del Boy style French (4m:20).

Up The Terras!

The Teams

To carry on the narrative from last time and give some semblance of professionalism to this blog I'm going to introduce this blog by continuing the text from the last photo blog. Check it out.

You've made your way to the ground, had a couple of beers and now the match is only a matter of minutes away. No matter how piss poor you're team are there's always a sense of excitement and anticipation before the teams come out onto the pitch and the match starts (well almost).

This anticipation reaches its peak, some say zenith, when the teams finally step out onto the pitch for the match. They were there 10 minutes ago warming up but the sight of them again in full kit is always greeted with a warm reception by the crowd, or in the case of the Forest v Weymouth game a noise I've not heard since Mark Goodier introduced Let Loose on the Radio 1 Roadshow on Weymouth beach in 1994.

As the teams come out this is often the cue for a united round of beautifully harmonised chanting by the fans, often something mumbled to the tune of Guantanamera about the fans of the local rivals and their genetic fondness for cousin licking. However if you have the misfortune to be a Weymouth fan you use the time to see if it's a) the first team, b) the reserves, or c) the youth team playing today.

If you've missed the previous two thrilling instalments of this series (part one comes complete with free ring binder) you can send away for the ones you missed by sending a SAE to AiTinpot Towers, 1 Fake Street, Faketown, Fakesville, or click the links below.

Part One - Sneaking in the ground.
Part Two - It's five minutes 'til kick off.

Crawley v Weymouth. 6th March 2004. Sadly Super Jason Matthews' beautiful Westcountry face is perfectly obscured by a piece of paper. Paper - small, Jason - far away.


Hertha Berlin II v Rot Weiss Erfurt, 15 April 2007.

Union Berlin v Vfb Luebeck. 16 April 2007.

Real Madrid v Lyon. 21 November 2006.

Bayer 04 Leverkusen v 1. FC Kaiserslautern. 19th March 2005

Nottingham Forest v Weymouth, FA Cup 1st Round. 5th November 2005.

Vasalunds IF v Mjallby AIF. 11 October 2009.

Celtic v Heart of Midlothian. 20 Sept 2009. As seen from space.

Union Berlin v Dynamo Dresden. 8th March 2009.

Hertha II v VfB Luebeck. 7 March 2009.

Royal Union Saint Gilloise v VCE Aalst.

Cockfosters v Kings Langley.

Weymouth v Welling

Weymouth FC v Welling FC

Saturday 13th March, 2010

Conference South

Wessex Stadium, Weymouth

Attendance: 405

First off an update from the Bath game our 3rd permanent manager has resigned to spend more time with his managerial clichés handbook and hair gel, 7 (seven) players have left and the clubs and this is farce. This is undoubtedly the worst season of football seen in the towns history, unless you count the abysmal 1993 Weymouth Eagles Under 12 season. (P16 W0 D0 L16 F7 A207). Relegation is a certainty now, however we face a much more important fixture in 2 weeks, away to Malcolm Curtis and HMRC on neutral territory in Chingford. A defeat here and the club could be liquidated, making this potentially the last ever game at the Wessex Stadium.

Earlier this week a Yeovil fan on our forum compared the club to a gruesome motorway crash and it is with more than a little morbid curiosity that I travelled to Weymouth. Having said that this isn't any old car crash. This is a car crash instigated by a man who is an even worse driver than Brian Harvey, a man who somehow who jumped in your beloved car when you weren't looking, gave you a £1 for it, give it a pointless re-spray, sold the wheels, crashed it on purpose
(taking out many innocent bystanders), blocked any emergency vehicles from the scene and continues to drive a monster truck of shit through the crash scene every single day until there's nothing left.

Arriving early I take a wander round the empty ground, the ground I've been coming to since I was 6. There's the gate I sat on as a young 'un, the wall where young Lee and me carved our names in in the mid 90's, the refreshment hut where I have purchased enough Panda Pops and Refresher bars over the years to comfortably write off our debts and the frankly disgusting
toilets, home of a family of nesting birds around the turn of the century. They saw sense and got out, I'm still here. (In the ground, not in the toilets-thats just fucking weird and the wireless signal is awful).

My gate since 1987 when I turned up with a bootbag full of pop and crisps. Now property of Malcolm Cu*tis. Just to the left stand The Book'em's, to the right Farmer John and just behind Young Le(e)'s Dad.

What soup have you got? I'll have a hot chocolate then thanks.

A medicinal beverage is required and make my way to the ridiculous shaped bar, the only bar I'm aware of where the patrons form an orderly queue rather than huddle at the bar whilst waiting to be served. This bar was home to one of the most memorable moments supporting the Terras, when what seemed like thousands of us crammed into the tiny bar to watch us take our place in the FA Cup First round for the first time in 18 years and draw (twice European Cup Winners) Nottingham Forest 2005, we'd go on to draw 1-1 at the City Ground in front of 1800 travelling Terras. Those days are long gone, those fans are long gone and today the bar is eerily empty, the Sky TV long since cut off, the bar largely empty of drinks and an atmosphere like some sort of pre funeral gathering. Looking around the bar its fair to say I recognise about 75% of the people in their, the other 25% are expectant

Welling fans, and not only that I know all their names, well some real names, some aliases from the internet forum and some who have been bestowed a less than flattering nickname over the years. There are so many memories tied up in this pile of breeze blocks, in this group of people and the events that have taken place here that for this club to end would mean so much more to me than just finding a new way to pass the time on a Saturday afternoon and why I have reservations about the formation of a new AFC Weymouth, however it looks increasingly likely I won't have an option.

The home end, once upon a time full of fans proclaiming singing "Weymouth 'Til I Die" Now presumed dead.

Today is 'Kids Day' at the Wessex. The now bi-annual event where the club self destructs, the first team leave en masse and the reserve/youth team are sent out for an ass kicking by very grateful opposition and we make a mockery of the element of competition in the league. I'll admit to having tears in my eyes at the last 'Kids Day', as we lost 0-9 at home to Rushden and Diamonds two years ago, as much out of pride for the players who wore the shirt as the terrible situation the club was in and since that day there's been a general numbness in my support. The sense pervades the majority of the fans, gradually they drift in and maintain the resigned look of Zombies programmed to turn up for the inevitable defeat.

As usual 'The Final Countdown' by Europe is boomed out around the ramshackle PA system and (cliche alert) this week really could be the final countdown for Weymouth. ***Continue of cliche alert*** Somehow the lyrics seem a little apt (a little apt once Ive googled them to find out what they are and shoehorned them in this blog)

We're leaving together

But still it's farewell

And maybe we'll come back

To earth, who can tell?

I guess there is no one to blame (There is, it's Malcolm fucking Cu*tis)

We're leaving ground

Will things ever be the same again? (Probably not, we're screwed.)

Thankyou Europe for those vaguely relevant words, may you never defile this blog again.

The match itself is much better than expected, the players battle against the mid table opposition and have a couple of half chances, making this one of the better performances I've seen this season. Welling have the vast majority of possession and territory, but a combination of poor finishing, goal line scrambles and some good saves mean that there is no score at half time. The young Terras are applauded off enthusiastically at the break by the fans, apart from those looking nervously at their betting slips after putting money on a Welling victory - we've got previous in betting against our own team.

Welling get their first goal just 4 minutes in the second half and from then are able to play within themselves to beat us comfortably 3-0. We have a couple of chances and if we'd taken won I'd have probably gone slightly mental and celebrated like we'd won the Dorset Senior Cup for the 24th time. The fans drift away quietly at the end of the game not knowing that whether they will push through the turnstiles again. For many though this will be a blessed relief and a chance to start again, I struggle to entertain the thought of an AFC Weymouth, my memories are of Weymouth FC. A Weymouth FC of David Laws, Alex Browne, Willie Gibson, 8-0 wins against Dorchester, Bob Lucas, Don Stevens, Jorge Diaz, Mark Boulton, 0-0 draws against Bashley in the Doc Martens Cup, Ludovic Cadama, Will Flint and Narada fucking Bernard. Good and bad memories but all of them of my team, my club and I find it abhorrent that one man's personal greed looks like it might destroy 120 years of history and so many people's enjoyment, memories and friendships.

I'm off to watch this and have a little cry. Up The Terras.

Lets hope its next Exit 2010 for Weymouth FC. Cliche tastic.