Chasetown v Kidsgrove Athletic

You may have noticed, dear reader, that, when Blackpool play away from home, I’ve started going to watch my old club Chasetown. The Scholars play in the West Division of the Northern Premier League, so it’s usually not far to go – if often tricky to get to these non league grounds (see Vauxhall Motors).

I had to be particularly inventive to get to today’s home game against Kidsgrove (my old gaffer’s team) owing to a train strike. Hmm. How could I get there? I had a brainwave. Of course! Blackpool are away! I contacted Steve at the Blackpool Supporters Association and hitched a lift on their coach to Stevenage, arranging to be dropped off and collected from Norton Canes services, which isn’t far from Chasetown (indeed my walk to the ground last time took me on a bridge over the M6 Toll). I am a genius sometimes, if I say so myself.

Southbound

I got up stupidly early and walked to The Saddle to the sound of birdsong. I like to arrive early in general (I don’t like the stress of being late) so I had a good 10-15 minutes to wait for the coach to turn up. There were other Seasiders waiting for the coach and they, of course, wanted to talk about Blackpool. I am working on withdrawing emotionally from Blackpool this season for mental health reasons (with excellent success, I might add); nor am I a huge fan of conversation first thing in the morning (preferring the solitude of writing, reading or working out at the gym to start the day). However I engaged in Blackpool chat until more people turned up and I was able to quietly exit the conversation.

On board the coach, I bagged a seat at the front, directly behind the drivers. This proved to be the best seat on the coach thanks to the entertainment value of one of the drivers, Jamie, who is blog gold (can you drive us every week?).

The highlight of the journey down was Jamie talking about his Xbox.

‘You can fly around space in your spaceships, you can shoot spaceships…’

‘I love Spiderman. I spent £500 on a PlayStation 5 just for Spiderman 2.’

‘I’m in Australia in the Australian Open, I’m in my Oodie, I’m two sets up against Novak Djokovic…’

He was so passionate about gaming that I was reminded how much I used to love it before I decided it wasn’t a productive use of my time. Is that necessarily a bad thing if it’s something you enjoy? Still, I’ve sacrificed Football Manager (well it was Championship Manager in my day) and Civilization in favour of reading and writing (you’re welcome) and I guess both things have the same effect for me as gaming, as I become absorbed in another time and place for hours at a stretch.

Aside from chuckling at Jamie, I spent the two hours down to South Staffordshire editing a chapter of my book. If you’re new to the blog or haven’t been paying attention, I’m writing a book about the impact of football on my mental health over the past 30-odd years. I’m learning so much through the process of writing it and this is why I’m not watching Blackpool away any more but, anyway, more of that in the book.

As the coach pulled in to Norton Canes services, I reminded Lauren not to include me in the head count when the coach headed back down the M6 Toll. I had to explain twice what match I was actually going to and why. I then darted off for a quick comfort break (I’d downed two cans of Apple Tango en route, the first to a heckle of ‘ooh someone’s on the beers already’ from Jamie) before embarking on a quest to exit the services by circumnavigating the toll booths.

Daz sent me a map, detailing where I was to exit Norton Canes on foot.

I managed to avoid getting run over on the way to the gates (always an achievement for me). Hmm. But how was I supposed to get through? I couldn’t see a buzzer to talk to someone, as per Daz’s instructions. The fence appeared scale-proof. It was like being at (not at) Vauxhall Motors again.

I patrolled the gates as I puzzled over this. There had to be a way through. Daz had researched this and I trusted Daz more than I trusted Google Maps. I was just about to consider rolling underneath the gates (I reckoned I could just about fit), when I spotted a button to open the pedestrian gate. Doh! I ambled straight through and, within seconds, there was Daz pulling up to collect me.

Wendy had actually ASKED to come along to the Chase match today, so I think she’s getting the football bug. This is after years of her ignoring Daz’s interest in Aston Villa.

Breakfast at Wendy’s

Wendy had suggested that, as opposed to eating out (where you don’t REALLY know what you’re getting from a SlimmingWorld perspective, as you don’t know if things are cooked in oil, for example), we take breakfast at their house. I happily agreed and here is said breakfast, cooked by Wendy.

Bonus points for being served on a Pyrex plate (remember we learned all about Pyrex in Sunderland).

Other points of note chez Wendy (and Daz) were the fish tank…

…this excellent book, which I cannot recommend highly enough…

…and that alluring open chocolate bar on table that I couldn’t take my eyes off. That wouldn’t have lasted five minutes in our house.

Right, to the pub!

The Wych Elm

This is the token ‘pub that opens at 11’ because we couldn’t wait until noon for our first drink of the day.

But that’s not to say we were that keen to get started on the beers! Well I was really but they only had Banks’s Amber and Pedigree and I was trying to be good from a SlimmingWorld perspective so I enquired after their sugar free soft drink options. I was told that the R Whites lemonade was sugar free so I had one of those. Made a nice change from Diet Coke (the sole sugar free offering in a lot of pubs).

Wendy enquired after the pubdog, Luna.

‘She’s upstairs. She attacked the BT man.’

This statement was quickly retracted by our friendly hostess and apparently Luna had just been a bit excitable and wanting attention from said BT man. I was pleased she wasn’t around as I’m not a fan of high maintenance dogs myself.

We took a seat in an exciting booth with a telly in it.

We admired the artwork in the pub.

Next I can see I’ve taken a photo of something I needed Shazamming. Hmm was that because I liked the song…?

I just listened again to check and was annoyed by the song within three seconds so I guess that was the reason for my research. I can’t be doing with repetitive dross like this. Wreaks havoc with my whirring brain on bad mental health days. Can’t be doing with the music they play at the gym for the same reason, hence I’ll be blasting out South of Salem through my AirPods, if I’m not listening to a podcast.

Right. It was now close enough to noon to escape the lemonade and terrible tuneage. Next!

Vintage Liquid Taphouse

This is the micropub formerly known as Sankeys Taphouse.

I ought to have included something for scale here but these cobs were MASSIVE!

Right let’s have a look at the beers.

I’ll confess I found this selection somewhat uninspiring (again, good for SlimmingWorld, I suppose). I settled for a half of the Stewart’s (sic) but, if I’d had my wits about me, I probably should have gone for the Titanic Stout as the more interesting choice.

This decision was made after asking our host to talk me through anything that looked remotely interesting in the fridge (situated at ground level behind the bar which, being vertically challenged and short sighted, isn’t easy for me to see). Sadly, it seemed there was nothing dark or fruity in there to pique my interest.

Wendy paid and we took a seat on the comfy sofas close to the bar. It was only as I took photos of the beer board that I’d wished I’d looked at it before ordering a beer I didn’t want.

WHAAAAAATTT?! THEY’VE GOT BATHAMS?!

Further interrogation of the bottom shelf of a different fridge also revealed a selection of Tiny Rebel Sleigh Pufts. Now THAT was more like it! Where were you five minutes ago?

I couldn’t decide between all of these so I bought all of them. At least, I TRIED to…

After all that faff finding nothing to drink and then finding EVERYTHING to drink, when I tried to pay with my card, the machine first asked for my pin BEFORE I put my card in, which I thought was a bit weird, then it asked me to insert my card and insert my pin again.

INCORRECT PIN

I tried again, thinking I must have transposed the numbers incorrectly.

INCORRECT PIN

Hmm.

‘What happens if it doesn’t accept it on the third attempt?’

‘Oh you’ll have to go to a cashpoint to reset it.’

‘But what if it eats my card?’

I hesitated before inputting my pin again. I was only entering the same number because I wasn’t going to make something up that I knew to be the wrong pin.

‘Have I reached THAT age where I can’t cope with technology any more?’

INCORRECT PIN

Fucks sake.

I think a random stranger next to me at the bar offered to pay but I was rather flustered by this point. I appealed to Wendy for help and she stumped up for a round of four beers that were all for me. I transferred her some money immediately from my banking app because at least I could get that to work.

While I’d been faffing with the card machine, Wendy had been busy selecting tunes on the pub jukebox via an app on her phone. Who knew that was a thing?

As always, we got onto the subject of SlimmingWorld and Wendy showed me a chart showing equivalents to particular weights. Apparently my target weight is the equivalent of the amount of red meat the average American consumes in a year. And I’ve already lost the equivalent of a human’s skin.

There was a child in this micropub (surely there’s no room for such things in a micropub?). Anyway she came round offering us crisps and we declined of course because we’re on SlimmingWorld. She then came over again to Wendy and handed over her colouring book.

‘She gets everyone doing her colouring in,’ said granddad, seated behind us.

‘She won’t get me doing it,’ I muttered, seemingly out loud.

‘If she gets too much let me know.’

Shortly thereafter, the girl came round again, this time offering Maltesers.

‘No, thank you.’

‘Are you sure, lady?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

She was quite sweet really – but a nightmare if you’re on SlimmingWorld.

Shortly before we left, I loitered outside the toilets while I was waiting for the toilet roll to be restocked.

The little girl came over (of course she did) and remarked on how alike our hats were and I finally melted and had to concede that she really was quite adorable. I’m just not used to being around children and they generally put me on edge. I suppose they’re not all bad really.

Right – time to move on into Chasetown.

On our walk into Chasetown, we bumped into Daz, who had gone out for a bike ride while we were enjoying breakfast earlier. He’d been on a mission to find a tree that looked like Groot from Guardians of the Galaxy. The reference meant nothing to me but I still enjoyed his picture of the tree.

The Crown Inn

This pub had changed hands since our last visit, which sadly meant no more pubdog Zoe. But there was another dog, as well as some children who made themselves useful tidying up and clearing tables.

I would call this an interesting boring choice in that there are no wacky micro offerings – but there was a mild which of course I had a half of.

I’m not sure what this was on the shelf behind the bar but I have had a nightmare about it since. At the time, it reminded me of the pterodactyl that lived in a tree at my old house, not far from here in Brownhills. I recanted the story to Wendy and will do so here too for you, dear reader.

It was a Saturday morning – the morning after a Christmas party at which I had drunk lots of stupid stuff like cocktails because there wasn’t any beer on. I had been woken by a knock at the door and there was a man delivering me a big bunch of flowers, which left me with a lot of explaining to do to the man I was living with at the time, especially as there appeared to be no note with the flowers (it turned out they were from my boss). Already confused and bewildered and still pissed from the night before, I stumbled into the living room and opened the curtains. Please note that this is December and these curtains were usually drawn while I was in the house, it being dark when I left for work in the morning and dark when I returned in the evening. On Saturdays I had been going to football but this was probably around the start of the boycott, so I had stopped going. So I was opening these curtains for possibly the first time since the summer. And what did I see on opening the curtains?

Confused? Fucking terrified? You better believe it! Was I hallucinating?

This was my first winter in this house, having bought the house in the spring, when this tree had leaves on it that were covering up its unusual inhabitant, hence him only revealing himself on that morning. Needless to say, when I moved out of the house, I couldn’t leave him there to torment the new owners, so he is now looking down on me as I write from his new perch on the top of the cabinet in the corner of my new living room.

Anyway, back to the pub! Not much else to report other than the lush smelling handwash in the Ladies.

Alas we hadn’t left enough time to call in at the Uxbridge pre-match but the good news is that we would be going there after the match. We continued past, down Church Street, and found ourselves back home at The Scholars Ground.

Chasetown v Kidgsrove Athletic

Of course we headed immediately to the bar because we had our drinking heads on now (when have we ever not?). I was impressed by the range of snackage behind the bar but of course resisted because we were SlimmingWorld conscious (shush about the beer).

Drinkswise, I opted for the keg Doom Bar because it’s a safe session ABV at 4% and it is surprisingly quaffable (that latter point not necessarily a good thing on an all day sesh but I will learn one day, if not today).

Ooh let’s check out the teamsheet:

This teamsheet has just reminded me that I forgot to say hello to friendly referee Ben, who I remembered as one of the good ones from my Chase days. One of my jobs when I was at Chase was to look after the match officials, being their point of contact before the match, chatting with them in hospitality before and after the match (sometimes challenging if they had made controversial decisions), handing them the teamsheet that I had prepared and popping into their dressing room post match to pay them and occasionally politely ask them for their rationale behind certain decisions. Some refs were a bit of a weird type but many were good lads and Ben fell in the latter category.

With Kidsgrove being managed by our former gaffer, I expected to see names I recognised on their team and indeed I had signed Callum Lovatt and Lewis Bergin for Chase back in the day. And of course there were my old friends Oli and Langy in the Chase line-up today. I’m getting to recognise more of the players the more games I’m going to but, to be honest, the all-day drinking and the fact I’m nattering away all match doesn’t really help me retain this information. A visit to Chase is as much a social occasion as anything. But I think that’s not such a bad thing. One of the reasons I was here at Chase today and not watching Blackpool at Stevenage was because I feel TOO invested in Blackpool, such that I’m not enjoying it any more. I don’t get that buzz that I do still get when I’m going to watch Chase.

On my last visit here, I commended Chase for having both hot and cold taps in the clubhouse facilities (many non league clubs have a one tap strategy). Today I decided the hot taps would benefit from a warning as they were very hot! The hand driers were also very warm and it is refreshing to be able to warm up at a match. Wendy tried out the new toilet blocks and confirmed they were very nice and even had coat hooks! VERY fancy pants for non league (even most league clubs don’t have those).

Today we headed over to the Stag Bar so we could watch from the balcony above and here was our excellent view.

There was a bad injury to a Grove player, who had a suspected double leg break (mercifully this turned out not to be the case). The club were told the ambulance would take three hours but it had arrived before we left the ground so it wasn’t quite that long.

In the second half we moved to watch the match from the other end, which Chase were now attacking.

Chase won 2-0, with a goal in each half from John Atherton and Danny O’Callaghan. A win always makes for a great atmosphere in the clubhouse after the match, which is exactly where we returned.

It was lovely to catch up with ex-gaffer Scott and his dad and it was a lovely surprise to see Emma, who had been the physio at Chase in our day.

I was called over by one of the old guard, who offered little by way of greeting, and had just beckoned me over to complain about the swearing in my blog. Back when I was working here and was eager to impress – and just pulling through after a breakdown – I might have taken these words to heart and resolved to change. However I’m very comfortable within myself now and swearing is part of my language. It’s not as if I do it gratuitously – it’s all in context. Besides, I get a lot of compliments on my swearing.

Anyway, if English linguist David Crystal has taught me anything, it’s that, if something is understood, then it’s proper English. Hence, if I have learned to tolerate could ofs and should ofs and rogue apostrophe’s that have previously offended me, then I don’t think it’s too much to ask of others to accept the occasional fuck.

Anyway, back to the pub!

The Uxbridge Arms

Obvs we were having the Titanic Chocolate & Vanilla Stout in here, which was lush.

Once again we had failed to factor any tea into our plans for today, so we ended up on the cobs again.

I had the beef and onion (above) and Wendy had cheese and onion, which came on a tiger cob, which I was (a) disappointed not to have had because it was exciting bread, but also (b) relieved as it was probably worse on SlimmingWorld.

I messaged Lauren on board the BSA coach, who confirmed a 1933 arrival at Norton Canes. I messaged Daz accordingly and he came to collect us in good time.

Northbound

We again approached the secret squirrel entrance to the toll road services, but were puzzling how I could actually gain entry, with no apparent button to press on this side. Frankly, I had had a few beers by now, so probably wouldn’t have spotted it anyway (I struggled enough when sober this morning). Plus it was dark. I was just contemplating doing a stuntman roll underneath the gate when, mercifully, a car turned up, did whatever he needed to do to get the car access gate to open, and I sprang out of the car and followed him in on foot, before the gate had even finished opening, let alone started closing. Result!

The BSA bus arrived almost immediately and I boarded as everyone else had disembarked for their comfort break, spending half an hour sitting alone on the coach, listening to my audiobook (Angel Maker by Morgan Greene). I’d forgotten my AirPods (grr) but it didn’t matter at this point as there was no-one else on the bus.

Around 8pm, the bus was as full as it was going to get and I was entertained by driver Jamie for the journey home.

‘Are you on those Fridge Raiders again? I thought I could smell dog food.’

(Note this was directed at a different passenger, as I wouldn’t have them for SlimmingWorld reasons – although a pack would be well within my daily syn allowance if I hadn’t already gone well over today with my beer).

The particular highlight was Jamie’s rant about Miller & Carter where, apparently, if you order steak, you get some lettuce with mayo as some sort of aperitif. He was very angry about this lettuce and ranted about it for most of the journey up the M6. I forgot to suggest that next time he perhaps asked NOT to have the lettuce. Anyway, I was now actually rather pleased I’d forgotten my AirPods, as remembering them might have meant I’d have missed out on the entertainment value of the drivers. It’s well worth travelling with BSA to away matches for this reason alone.

I was dropped off across from the Saddle probably around 10pm and made my way home from there. It had been an excellent day out all round and I was already looking forward to the next one.

If you enjoy these blogs (which are free to read) and would like to support me in my writing, I’d be ever so grateful if you’d consider becoming a Patron. For a minimal amount each month, you’ll get updates on my book and other writing projects as well as providing encouragement and inspiration for me to carry on. Writing can be a lonely place and knowing there are Patrons out there rooting for me really is a great motivator for me. Here’s the link to sign up.

Next up: Clitheroe v Chasetown.