Apparently, according to the media, today was "FA Cup Day." It seems to them that the competition magically starts at the 3rd round. Sod the hundreds of sides that started out in August. That unforgettable two part, 12 goal thriller, at Melbourne Park and Rookery Hill? Forget it. It only counts if weekend tv is filled up with the monotony of ties involving Premier League sides.
For the hosts today, it wasn't a case of FA Cup starting. It was their season restarting. Five months in and just 13 league games played. 14th in Ryman One North didn't look too great. They were about a dozen points adrift of the play-off zone. But games in hand. Wow, those games in hand. Their opponents today, Potters Bar Town, were in 4th. But had played nine more matches to get there. To all intents and purposes, the hosts season started here.
I was also included in the seats, mind, after someone had come up with the bright idea of putting huge hi-fi speakers on the press box seats. It's a pity that a club gets so used to not getting any local media coverage that when they do, and even if told in advance, they don't expect it. No seat, nowhere to put the netbook, no team sheet. This is going to be a chortle.
Cynical? Me? Pah. No, I'm probably just wailing over a lost youth. We weren't force fed a constant message that the Premier League is everything back then. Match Of The Day regularly had at least one game from the Second Division, and sometimes 3rd and 4th Division action. The regional ITV coverage showed their region's sides regardless of status. And non-league football was always featued in the Sunday papers.
I just hate the way it's forced down our throats these days, how great the Premier League is. It seems lost on the tv channels, radio stations, and papers, that comfortably over half the nation doesn't support a Premier League side and care even less. I don't begrudge them televising or covering top flight football. I just wish they'd shut the f*** up about it.
Quite what this has to do with Brentwood Town v Potters Bar Town I don't know. Perhaps it was the sight of a Premier League team on the clubhouse tv. Someone wailed afterwards that those Newcastle players had besmirched the 'famous shirt'. Judging by the result and what they wore, I'd say plum coloured was very apt.
For the hosts today, it wasn't a case of FA Cup starting. It was their season restarting. Five months in and just 13 league games played. 14th in Ryman One North didn't look too great. They were about a dozen points adrift of the play-off zone. But games in hand. Wow, those games in hand. Their opponents today, Potters Bar Town, were in 4th. But had played nine more matches to get there. To all intents and purposes, the hosts season started here.
Also a new era at the radio station. A new presenter. Wow, the excitement builds. Minus points - a Southend United supporter, so probably a glass half empty man like me. Plus points - lives in Shoeburyness so possibly a lift home if I popped into the studio afterwards. Oh yes.
A bigger crowd today too, swelled by disgruntled Billericay Town supporters. Match called off at 1.45pm. That has to hurt. Especially for those who travelled from Farnborough. I know I shouldn't. But chortle. Anyhow, it looked almost respectable, with plenty in the seats, not far short of three figures I'd guess.
I was also included in the seats, mind, after someone had come up with the bright idea of putting huge hi-fi speakers on the press box seats. It's a pity that a club gets so used to not getting any local media coverage that when they do, and even if told in advance, they don't expect it. No seat, nowhere to put the netbook, no team sheet. This is going to be a chortle.
It's a bit miserable, today's blog so far, innit? Honest, I don't mean it to be, and I was actually quite chipper, despite Chipper not being there. It's just how the day unfolds. I was my usual cheery self to everyone around me, not taking the game unfolding in front of me too seriously. Or myself. I'm not a facts guy when it comes to radio reporting. So long as I get the score right, I'm happy. You get from me what the day is like rather than the game.
And the game itself? it started off with managers swearing, not at the officials, but at their own defences. It was an open, end-to-end, first five minutes, at which point the host boss bellows at his side "Where's the f***ing marking?". Chortle. Not just from me but from the old codgers around me.
After that, they sort of cancelled each other out, preferring to dive into the sandy parts of the pitch and breaking down play rather than creating. 'At least there's a match on rather than nothing', I thought to myself as Alex Read tried to make a break on the left. He centres it to the edge of the area. Daryl Robson smacks it into the roof of the net. Bloody hell. Proper liquid football that.
I excitedly try to report the exciting excitement of a half decent goal. As I do so, another loud cheer. I look up. Brentwood team-mates are congratulating Alex Read. "Can't you do the decent thing and not score until I'm ready?", I mutter to myself. The codgers around me chortle. 2-0 to Brentwood Town. I've missed one of the goals. Like Brentwood, I'm back on form.
It's all Brentwood for the next 10 minutes. They could and should have put the game out of reach. They don't and pay a penalty when they concede one on a rare Potters Bar break. Danny Ailey steps up. And with unerring accuracy hits the Ipswich bound carriageway of the A12. Chortlesome in the extreme.
As the skies darken, and the temperature off the pitch drops, it rises on it. The visitors are stung into action and dominate for the rest of the half and match itself. It's probably just as well that they go for it and attack. Their right back shouts to his centre half, on the edge of his own penalty area, "Wes, kick it to anyone you can see." I never realised Potters Bar Town had a San Marino internationlist playing for them.
Reece Ottley in the Brentwood Town goal was being kept a busy man, with some comfortable saves, and one or two excellent stops, as Potters Bar piled forward. Then, an almost exact opposite of the first half. Brentwood break, a trip inside the area, and against the run of play, a penalty. Only almost this time though. Alex Read bangs it away. Done and dusted.
Potters Bar pull a goal back through Danny Ailey, but you can tell from their demeanour, with urgency replacing craft and guile, that the game's up. They never really believed they could or would get themselves back into it. They'd run down the flanks, then pause, almost frightened to get into the box. Only when there was a corner did they really threaten again, and that was just an old fashoned scramble.
Full time and a 3-1 win for Brentwood Town. Not a bad way to start their restarted season. Ten points from the play-offs. Between six and nine games in hand on everyone up there. The Arena is a good place to be, a bit of hope and maybe even expectancy shining through the dark skies. Brentwood are looking good. Potters Bar were, too, but simply not good enough today.
I pop over to the studio. The new presenter, Robbo, has an air of calm and relaxation about him. Underneath, though, he's been rushed off his feet. All those FA Cup ties. Hearteningly, though, his main focus is today's game and non-league scores from around the area and beyond. The hour in the studio flies by.
As does the trip back to the Bay. A kindly man, Robbo offers me a lift home, as I'd hoped, but not expected. The discussion on the journey eastwards extends to Le Mans, Brands Hatch, and why the darts was interrupted by an episode of Doctors. It's an upbeat way to end a day that started so downbeat and cynically. You see, I am indeed a cheery chappie.
Ahead lies a rocky path. Impending eviction. A check-up to gauge just how poorly the heart is. Less money than a Scotsman winning a tightarse contest. Still, it doesn't matter. I can deal with all of that.
And the season has restarted in cracking style.
Brentwood Town 3, Potters Bar Town 1
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