FIRSTS AND LASTS

DATELINE: Broadclose Park, Bude, Saturday, October 19, 2019

MATCH: Bude v St Day

CUP: St Piran League Kernow Stone League Cup

ROUND: First Round

PICTURES: See http://www.facebook.com/cupfootballblogger/

THE BLOG: At the end of a great adventure are you the sort of person who sees yourself as disappearing off into a glorious sunset, quite possibly hand-in-hand with the one you love, while a romantic, soothing soundtrack plays over the pictures in your mind?

Or are you more the adventurer who would love to go out in a blaze of glory, with all guns firing, pyrotechnics filling the sky with colour and crashes and bangs, and a heavy metal guitar solo pounding in your head as the world moves on to a new chapter?

Well, I have always thought of myself as a bit of a sunset stroller but it turns out that I am more of a glory boy.

You see, after four and a bit seasons of writing this blog, of exploring the highways and some forgotten byways of Cornish football, I feel I have completed my mission of promoting the joys of cup football, of singing the praises of the beautiful knockout game. To my own satisfaction, if that of no one else, I have proved that cup football, the do-or-die, win or bust version of the game I love, is simply the best incarnation of association football there can possibly be.

Also, I am a bit busy at the moment and so finding the time to write these blogs is proving ever more difficult, as shown by the fact that I am writing this eleven days after the game itself.

So I decided that this was to be the last in this series of blogs – at least for now – and I wanted to go out on a high, I wanted to round off my Cornish cup journey with something a bit different, something new.

How about a whole new cup? That sounded to me like the perfect solution to my search for a happy ending. And, luckily enough, there is a whole new league in Cornwall and, with it, has come a whole new cup.

The league is the Step Seven St Piran’s League and the cup is the St Piran’s League Kernow Stone League Cup. Perfect.

All I needed now was an exciting venue for my final blog and where better than beautiful Bude on the North Cornwall coast? Broadclose Park, the home of Bude FC, is one of those grounds I had not managed to visit over the past four seasons and, as they were at home in the First Round of this new cup, it was too good an opportunity to miss. It turned out to be a great choice.

As soon as I found the ground itself, the phrase that sprang to mind was “joyously ramshackle”. The changing rooms and bar, and a small covered standing area outside them, run along one side of the ground, a school and a car park sit behind one goal, as does a small, blue covered “stand”, and the other two sides are gloriously open with rolling countryside and distant views down to the cliffs and the sea.

There was also a random caravan in the far corner and half the ground was roped off so you couldn’t get behind the goal at the top end. But the whole thing had an inner beauty of its own kind, a sense of real love for the club from the dedicated people who run it. In short, it was a perfect example of what local football means to its own local community. I instantly and deeply fell in love with it.

So I had chosen my final venue and now I needed my final fixture to offer some real promise, the possibility of learning something new at the end of my adventure. It looked good on paper. Bude FC started the day in sixth position out of the 16 teams in the East Division of the St Piran’s League while their visitors St Day were third of 15 in the West Division. East v West, which would be best?

So venue sorted. Fixture sorted. All I needed now was the game to give me a suitable send-off. I had no control over that, it was all in the hands of the players. So, how did it go? Well, I think nine goals, four halves, three hat-tricks and two red cards gives you an idea of the answer to that. It was an absolute belter that finally took extra-time to settle. What a way to go!

The all-action, er, action got under way almost immediately as the visitors hit the bar after just two minutes. The weather was also playing its part, with the low October sun sometimes dazzling me. Never mind, that was soon sorted when the clouds blew in and it started to rain. Oh well, I have spent a lot of time doing this blog in the rain so this seemed quite appropriate really – and it only rained for a while.

St Day took the lead on 22 minutes when the home keeper spilled a low shot and the forward following up had a simple tap-in. That also ended one other worry I had. I have been incredibly lucky over the course of this blog and have never seen a goalless draw. I didn’t want to break that record at the last hurdle and so I was ever so grateful when that first goal went in.

Moments later, there was a bit of a time-warp when I was transported, in my memory at least, back many years to a wet Tuesday night at the Northgate Sports Centre in Ipswich, a long, long way and a long, long time away from Cornwall.

It came back to me when a Bude defender, instead of a panicked shout of “man on”, gave his mate a countdown as an opponent came in. He calmly called out: “Five, four, three, two, one,” giving his colleague time to look up and take his time to pick a pass.

Now, when I used to turn up for a kick-around with friends from work for our regular midweek run-out in Suffolk, I always took it way too seriously. On this particular night, I was getting fed up with people on my side yelling “man on” when the man was clearly not yet on, thus forcing us into panicky passes and a consequent loss of possession. I had a bit of meltdown and, in a moment when one of the opposition was away getting the ball back from a wayward shot that had gone onto the athletics track next door, I called my team together and, well, shouted at them.

“Stop yelling man on when the man isn’t on,” I yelled. “Just talk to one another,” I shouted, “stay calmer and delay the call until the bloke really is about to tackle us. We can play much better than this.” For once, everyone listened, did as I suggested, played much better and we won the game. If only I had that sort of influence more often! And if only I had thought of the “man on” countdown. That would have been a proper triumph.

All of these thoughts went through my mind in the five minutes between St Day taking the lead and Bude equalising on the break just moments after the visitors had had a goal disallowed. St Day were even more grumpy on 38 minutes when Bude took the lead despite the visitors claiming a foul in the build-up. But they were level again before the break when a header from a free-kick into the box rounded off a busy first half.

It was a turning out to be a cup tie in which the action never really stopped, even at half-time when Bude had to bring on a substitute keeper to replace their injured custodian. Not sure I had seen that before during the course of this series of blogs.

Nine minutes after the break the new home keeper was picking the ball out of the back of the net, having been beaten by a first-time snapshot from the edge of the box. Nine minutes after that, we were all level again, Bude making it 3-3 with a brilliant turn and shot which completed a super hat-trick for striker Scott “Van” Percy.

And, despite the best efforts of the home side, who were on top for much of the last half-hour, that was that for the scoring in normal time.

So 3-3 and time for extra time and little bit of a bonus for my final blogging cup tie. I was more than happy to stretch it all out a bit further. St Day, though, were determined that it wouldn’t drag out all the way to penalties and found a new lease of life in those extra 30 minutes.

They took the lead again on 95 minutes with a determined twisting and turning run which ended with a close-range finish, and eased out into a 5-3 lead in the early moments of the second half of extra time after a long ball caught out the Bude defence.

Despite the best efforts of the hosts, they could not find a way back into the game and, on 112 minutes, St Day made it six. Their goals were evenly shared by Jack Willis and Dan Richards to complete a hat-trick of hat-tricks in this enthralling, engrossing, exciting cup tie.

Sadly, it had also become an edgy, excitable, tetchy and testy cup tie which the ref tried his hardest to keep a lid on. But there was not much he could do on 119 minutes after yet another flare-up and he was forced to brandish a red card to one player on each side. The Bude player then offered his fellow red-cardee the opportunity for a fight outside the ground – which was declined – and he was still going on minutes after the final whistle. “Oh, for f’s sake, shut up,” came the cry from his own, exasperated dressing room.

It was an unsavoury finish to a fantastic match and a slightly sad way to end my own cup run. But it did show the passions that football can arouse and I decided to head off into the metaphorical and, by this time, actual sunset clinging to the happy memories of a nine-goal cup thriller and four and a bit seasons of epic knockout football across the wonderful Duchy of Cornwall and beyond.

What an ending. Totally glorious.

FINAL SCORE: Bude 3 St Day 6 (after extra time)

PS: Thanks to all of you who have read and enjoyed this blog over the years and for all the kind comments, generosity and hospitality around the grounds that has made this all so enjoyable. Football people have their detractors sometimes but I have nothing but praise for all the dedicated players, supporters, volunteers and officials (on and off the pitch) who keep our glorious game rolling along at the heart of our local communities. I still hope to see lots of you around the grounds in future, you have been magnificent. Thank you and good night.

EAST v WEST

DATELINES: Mount Wise Stadium, Friday, October 4 and Marazion Playing Fields, Saturday, October 5, 2019

MATCHES: Newquay AFC Reserves v Torpoint Athletic Thirds; and Marazion v Mullion

CUPS: The Mortgage Advice Bureau East Cornwall Premier League RM Graphic Design League Cup and the RGB Building Supplies Cornwall Senior Cup

ROUNDS: First Round and Second Round, respectively

PICTURES: See http://www.facebook.com/cupfootballblogger/

THE BLOG: Cornwall has just seen a very busy summer tourist season, with towns and beaches and harbours and hills all crowded with visitors, all spending decent amounts of money to help keep the Duchy’s economy ticking over. However, as far as business is concerned, more money is still not enough money and so tourism chiefs are always being exercised by the big question: How do we get more money and more visitors coming down here?

Well, things are better than they were in times past when the season only lasted for six or seven weeks and that had to make enough profit to last the rest of the year. Nowadays, Cornwall is a year-round destination, thanks partly to a drive to become a hub for posh food and drink, thanks partly to the Poldark effect, and thanks partly to it being a slightly easier place to get to than it used to be, with some improved road and rail links.

But it is still not enough – how do we get people down here for longer, what undiscovered attractions can we offer them as the dark arms of autumn start to gather around us, as the icy grip of winter looms? What can we do to encourage visitors to come to Cornwall on say, for example, a windy Friday night in Newquay, or on a grey day down west, watching St Michael’s Mount loom out of the gloom?

I have the answer. Go to watch a local football match. After all, “authentic” tourism, where rich people want to wander off in luxury to discover the “real” Jamaica or the “real” India or the “real” wherever is a booming market. How about encouraging people down to the “real” Cornwall, away from the beaches and the fancy bars and expensive restaurants, away from the money and towards the “real” lives of “real” people in Cornwall?

And it doesn’t get more “real” than a dark Friday night in Newquay when the reserve team fromThe Peppermints are hosting the third eleven from Torpoint Athletic in an East Cornwall League Cup First Round clash. If you want “proper” football in a “real” Cornish environment then it doesn’t get more authentic than this.

Unless it’s watching a game on a playing field hidden from the touristic delights of beautiful Marazion, squeezed in between the local school, the local doctors’ surgery and some new housing. Marazion v Mullion in the Cornwall Senior Cup also has a pretty authentic Cornish feel to it, a real Duchy-centric encounter in the far west of Cornwall.

So I set myself a challenge this weekend to discover which of these “real” Cornwalls was the most entertaining, the most welcoming, the most likely to set a sporting tourist’s pulse racing, or at least get it slightly above walking pace. East v West, which is best?

My journey of discovery kicked off on Friday night at the Mount Wise Stadium, Newquay. This is a proper football ground. A bit like another favourite of mine at St Blazey, it is quite hard to explain what I mean by that, but it is something to do with the look of the place, of having a decent traditional stand, of not being in a rich part of town or county. There is just a feel, an atmosphere, about places like this that equates to being a proper football ground. I do like it here.

However, I always seem to be running late when I visit Mount Wise and the drive there is always a slightly fraught affair. That fraughtness was added to this time by not being sure when the game was actually due to start. Different outlets said 7.30pm and 7.45pm. Which was correct? In the end, I managed to get to the ground by approximately 7.18pm and the game duly kicked off at 7.33 and a bit. This meant I did have time for a nice cup of tea before the game started, always a plus point.

Now, it is fair to say that the crowd was a sparse one. A quick head count produced a number that was slightly less than the number of players, although it fluctuated a bit during the evening so might have crept up. It is fair to say that if Visit Cornwall, the region’s tourism board, decides to take up my football visitor suggestion then there is plenty of untapped potential there!

Two things happened before kick-off which I felt were worth making a note of. Firstly, I decided that, just for a change, I would sit in the main stand to watch the game, rather than indulge in my normal wander around the ground. However, despite the paucity of the crowd, I managed to sit in a spot which had a slightly restricted view of the goal at the tea hut end. Rather than actually move, I decided to just stay where I was and indulge in a bit of bobbing and weaving to improve my outlook around the offending roof post. It made it feel busier.

Secondly, for some reason, the teams changed ends twice before kick-off. This did not please the Newquay keeper who, having set up at the top end, had to jog down to the goal at the tea hut end, before having to carry out the reverse journey back up to the top end. One thing about there not being many people there is that you can hear much of what the players are saying. To be concise, he was a bit grumpy about it all. It made me smile.

Less than ten seconds after the kick-off I was smiling again, this time at the Torpoint boss whose first real exhortation to his team was: “Come on, put the work in.” Honestly, give ’em a chance to get started!

One nice thing about sitting in a nearly-empty grandstand is that, when something happens on the pitch which makes you clap your hands, the reverberation of your applause makes a satisfyingly loud and solid sound around the whole space. That made me smile too.

Midway through the first half, the irritated home keeper had something definitely not to smile about when a shot appeared to slip through his hands and squirm over the line to give the visitors the lead. Torpoint leading was not a surprise as, given the teams’ respective league form, they were clear favourites to progress. They were fifth in the 18-team East Cornwall Premier League, with five wins and a draw from their first nine games, while Newquay were 12th with one win and three draws from nine games and had been stuffed 10-0 by high-flying Foxhole Stars in their previous match.

However, for the first half of the first half there was nothing to choose between the two sides and it was a pleasantly well-contested cup tie. But, once that first goal went in, there was never any real chance of the Peppermints getting back into the match as Torpoint just looked stronger as the game went on. They were 3-0 up by half-time. The second goal was a far-post header from a corner while the third, just before half-time, looked to me like an own goal after a free-kick skimmed off a defender’s head and went in, but the official Torpoint Twitter feed credited it to their own Dan Place so who am I to argue? It was his second goal of the evening (according to Twitter), with Torpoint’s other first-half strike coming from Ross Richardson (according to Twitter).

Another memorable moment in the first half was a nice bit of ball retrieval work by myself from my spot in the grandstand. Not only did I judge the bounce nicely, catch it cleanly as I stood up, and then return it quickly and accurately (to no thanks from the player taking the throw-on I might add) but I did all this without managing to fall over and injure myself! (See a previous blog from the FA Vase clash between Camelford and Ashton & Backwell United to understand why that was a real achievement).

Five minutes into the second half, Torpoint were feeling as smug with themselves as I was with myself as they made it 4-0 when a nice move down the right wing ended with a low cross that was thumped home at the back post by Bahroz Zad (according to Twitter). Midway through the half, the visitors netted a fifth, Sam Rosevear (according to Twitter) bundling home from close range.

With ten minutes to go, Torpoint had the chance for number six when they were awarded a penalty. It looked a soft decision to me but the ref was considerably closer to the action than I was. What isn’t in dispute is that the pen wasn’t hit well and the home keeper cheered himself up a bit by making a good save. The penalty-taker was immediately substituted after his miss and came off muttering about having to take the kick from a “muddy penalty spot”. Always nice to hear the player’s explanations!

That was the final moment of entertainment that east Cornwall could offer me, so the question now was would Saturday in the west, down close to Penzance, be more or less interesting?

Well, the game was definitely closer, which wasn’t necessarily to be expected as this was a Cornwall Senior Cup tie between sides from different leagues at different steps in the Non-League pyramid.

Marazion have had a chequered recent history. A team called Marazion Blues had spent time in the Step Eight Cornwall Combination before dropping down to “junior” football in the Trelawny League. Then they folded. Then a team called Mousehole Thirds kind of took their place. Then Marazion not Blues took the chance to go it on their own and then the whole Non-League structure across Cornwall was reorganised before the start of this season and Marazion found themselves moving up several divisions and back into the Combo.

The question then was, could the blue-clad but not Blues of Marazion hold their own at this higher level? Well, they kicked-off on Saturday in seventh place out of 15 teams, with three wins and three defeats in eight games, so that’s a good solid start.

Mullion, meanwhile, who were in the Cornwall Combination last season, found themselves moved up to the new Step Seven St Piran’s League West Division for this season. Just like their hosts, they started this game in seventh place in their own 15-team league, this time with four wins and four defeats in their opening eight games. They were favourites but this was going to be interesting, I reckoned.

Now, Marazion Playing Fields, is not a “proper” ground in the way that Mount Wise is, but it is still a cracking little set-up. The clubhouse and changing rooms are just across the road from the pitch and there are grass standing areas all around the ground, while the lack of a stand is more than made up for by a very neat and friendly tea hut. As mentioned before, you have always got to have decent tea-making facilities.

What the ground did not have ten minutes before kick-off was corner flags. The home officials began a quick search for them and discovered that they were still in the equipment shed.

“Where in the shed?” came the question.

“In the corner, obviously,” came the reply.

I was smiling already.

Midway through the first half, the inner defender in me, was smiling again. Marazion had held their own against their higher-ranked opponents for the first 20 minutes but had rarely threatened the Mullion goal. Then, all of a sudden they got a corner. A member of the home defence began to sprint forward, dizzied by the prospect of contributing to a home attack. However, the home bench was having none of it and urgently called him back to the halfway line to and told him to stick with his defensive duties. He looked across at them and then at Marazion’s depleted backline and, as he ran back, said: “Oh yeah. Sorry, I got a bit excited there.”

I could empathise with him entirely. That always happened to me when I sought to join in the attack from my centre-half position. I once went seven years without scoring a goal but had that defender’s mentality of putting team before self and so scoring was not the be-all and end-all to me. Mind you, I went nuts when I finally did get one!

At half-time, the game was goalless, much to the pleasure of the home management. Not only had they restricted Mullion to rare chances but, when the visitors had got through, they found the Marazion goalkeeper in fine form.

So all to play for. All Marazion had to do now was keep playing the same way as they had in the first half, not give Mullion anything, keep it 0-0 and hope for one chance to fall their way and cause a proper cup upset.

That plan lasted for about 30 seconds.

Marazion had gone back to the changing rooms at half-time but Mullion elected to sit around their dug-out to have their team talk. Whatever was said seemed to work as, less than a minute into the second half, the visitors fired home from close range to break the deadlock. Would that signal the end of the drama and see the higher league side ease to a comfortable win? Er, no.

On 68 minutes, as tempers on both sides rose and the ref got more and more flak, the man in black (and they are still men in black at this level) had finally had enough and sin-binned one of the Mullion players. That was the first one I had seen this season and I was interested to see how the teams would deal with it.

Now, in ice-hockey, sin bins are a regular thing and teams know how to deal with the situation. There are “powerplay” attacking tactics, there are “penalty-killing” defensive tactics and it is something teams practise and understand. But it’s all new to footballers so how would they react, would they know what to do?

It certainly gave Marazion a boost and they pushed forward harder than they had done at any other point in the match, searching for the equaliser. Mullion, on the other hand, seemed to take a couple of minutes to adjust but eventually the message got through that the best way to deal with the situation was to use their superior individual ability to keep hold of the ball and not be rushed. Once they had worked that out, they “killed the penalty” very effectively and emerged from the ten-minute one-man deficit with their lead still intact.

A couple of minutes after that, a neat finish put Mullion 2-0 up and that looked like the end of the story. But Marazion showed real character to keep going and, on 84 minutes, pulled it back to 2-1 when a long ball over the top was slotted home. Was the cup upset still on?

Tensions on both sides certainly rose even further after that, with the challenges flying in and both sides constantly complaining to the ref, who was getting more and more cross but who refrained from binning anyone else. He certainly could have done and there were loud calls from the Mullion bench for a red card for one particular challenge. Again, the ref kept his cards in his pockets.

Things did threaten to boil over as the lure of a place in the next round of the Senior Cup proved something worth battling hard for but, in the end, Mullion had done enough to earn that spot and, on the balance of play, they probably deserved it.

At the final whistle, it was a good feeling to know that I had seen a hard-fought, “real” Cornish cup tie. It was, as they say, “proper”.

But was this western encounter better than the eastern one from the night before? They were very different events, that’s for sure, and hard to directly compare, so I am going to call that particular battle a draw and hope for a replay of my east and west cup journey sometime later in the season.

Right, first thing on Monday morning, I am on the phone to the tourist board with my Visit Cornish Football campaign idea. Let’s make this the “real” deal!

FINAL SCORES: Newquay AFC Reserves 0 Torpoint Athletic Thirds 5; Marazion 1 Mullion 2

A BIASED POINT OF VIEW

DATELINE: Grouter Park, Troon, Saturday, September 21, 2019

MATCH: Troon AFC v Illogan RBL Reserves

CUP: The Cornwall Junior Cup, sponsored by Bond Timber

ROUND: First Round

PICTURES: See http://www.facebook.com/cupfootballblogger/ 

THE BLOG: Before I start to write this blog, I need to make a confession. Well, an admission. Well, explain something.

Normally, whatever cup match I am watching for this blog, I try to stay avowedly neutral. I try not to care who wins and who doesn’t, I just try to take in the occasion and then bombard you all with my random thoughts about what I have just seen. Of course, if the game is in a national competition and a Cornish side is taking on someone from “upcountry” then my affection will naturally lean towards the side from The Duchy. And if Millwall are involved, I want Millwall to win. Always and everywhere.

Sometimes you go to a game determined to be neutral but something that someone says or does annoys you and you decide to support whichever side is playing against the offender’s team. Funnily enough, it rarely works the other way around. You don’t support a team because someone says something nice (although a free cup of tea always helps, thank you Camelford – see previous blog) but you take against a team because something about them irritates you. Maybe that’s just me, maybe that’s just being a football supporter, but I think that’s just the way this sporting life is.

But none of these excuses for a lack of neutrality would normally apply to a Cornwall Junior Cup tie between two teams from the Whirlwind Sports Trelawny League Premiership (yes, this league for junior teams in the west of Cornwall now has a Premiership and a Championship, as well as the more conventionally named Divisions One and Two).

Illogan RBL has been a regular haunt of mine over the four and a bit seasons that I have been writing this blog and it has always been a lovely place to go and has produced decent games to watch. It has always been a pleasure.

But I didn’t want them to win on Saturday

I was definitely supporting Troon and wanted them to produce an emphatic Grouter Park home win. Why? Well, you see, I am now a fully fledged member of the Troon Army.

No, I haven’t signed my life away to the Cornish equivalent of the French Foreign Legion, nor have I taken on the arduous duties of helping to run a grassroots football club. No, I have signed on as a player.

Well, sort of.

At my age, I’m 56 you know, a comeback to the world of “proper” 11-a-side football is physically beyond me and my knees but I have discovered a new version of the beautiful game that suits me down to the ground – walking football.

Aimed at the over-50s, I have been playing and training with the Troon walking football squad since the turn of the year and I have loved every minute of it. It’s great to be playing sport again, it’s great to meet and chat with like-minded lads and lasses and it’s great to get the old competitive juices flowing again. I am loving it.

And last weekend was a big one for the club as, on Sunday, we were taking two teams to a walking football festival in Lanivet, near Bodmin, which was raising money for a great cause – the Bobby Moore Fund, which pays for research into bowel cancer. Football and fundraising – everyone’s a winner.

However, I felt that I couldn’t really blog about my own footballing exploits and so I needed a cup football game to visit on Saturday. And a quick glance through the Junior Cup fixtures threw up the obvious choice – Troon were at home. Why not make it a Troon-tastic weekend? I couldn’t resist.

Also, it was the Junior Cup, which is a big deal down here. It might only be for teams who play what the national FA deems to be “recreational” football, but it really does matter to the players and clubs involved. For many of the players, it is probably the biggest tournament they will play in, the biggest cup they could win.

It has all the elements that cup football is about – the joy, the excitement, the desire, the out-of-the-ordinariness that marks a cup day as a special day. It is proper cup football and everyone at this level of the game wants to win it. I love it.

And both Troon and Illogan would have gone into Saturday’s clash not only focused on victory on the day but with half a distant eye on the prospect of actually winning the thing. After all, they both play in the Premiership and so they are some of the big fish in this junior football pond.

Now, although I wanted the Grouter Park boys to win, I wasn’t overly hopeful. They have started their league season with two wins and four defeats in their opening six games, while Illogan have three wins and a defeat from their first four Premiership fixtures. The visitors were definitely the slight favourites but, as we all know, league form goes out of the window when it comes to cup football; always expect the unexpected.

In the showers and descending mist, which made it feel like the proper football season, Troon made an unexpectedly good start. They took the lead with a sharp finish from a corner after 15 minutes and it was no more than their bright opening spell deserved. Sadly, for me and for them, that was about as bright as their day was to get as the home side’s cup hopes mirrored the weather and gradually become gloomier and gloomier.

The visitors were level before half-time when the ball was adjudged to have crossed the line after a corner. Now, in the absence of VAR at Grouter Park, the adjudging fell to the linesman, and not just any linesman, it fell to the home linesman, one of the Troon subs. You see, at this level, it’s not only a plethora of TV cameras that are missing, it’s also neutral linesmen. The job either falls to a club volunteer or, as in this case, one of the subs. And he said the ball had clearly crossed the line.

He happened to be on our side of the pitch and, as he ran back towards the centre circle, we applauded his decision and his honesty. “Well, you have got to be honest about it, haven’t you,” he said. Yes, mate, in the spirit of the game you do have to be truthful but not everyone always is and so your actions deserved our applause. It also made me proud to be part of the Troon Army. Well done, lino.

Now, whatever game you go to, at whatever level, there are a number of traditional calls from the players which you always hear. “Man on.” “Left (or right, depending) shoulder.” “Away”. And one of my personal favourites: “How many ref?” That is an impossible question to answer. But, while defending set-pieces, Illogan came up with one I hadn’t heard before.

Whether it be a corner or an opposition free-kick, one of their number would yell “Toes” and they would all start bouncing up and down on the spot. I know it was a move designed to improve their defensive concentration but it just looked like they had all been given an electric shock or were auditioning for a particularly poor version of Strictly Come Dancing. It made me smile and we humoured ourselves with occasional shouts of “Toes” from the touchline to see what would happen. All that really happened was that it made us smile again.

However, there wasn’t much else for the Troon faithful (that’s me) to smile about as Illogan took control of the cup tie. They took the lead twenty minutes into the second half with a crisp low strike and, seven minutes from time, broke away to crack home a third and seal their place in the next round. To be fair, it was no more than they deserved and, on this evidence, RBL Reserves could have a fruitful and exciting season ahead of them. They looked a decent side.

For Troon, though, the early signs are not great. They looked a bit disjointed and will have to hope that, after a tough start to the season, things can only get better.

What the club really needed was something to perk them all up a bit. How about a walking football side that, at Lanivet, won four games out of four, scoring nine goals in the process and conceding only four? Would that help to brighten the mood? Obviously, it was only a festival, not a tournament, there were no winners and losers as such and it was all about raising money for a good cause … but four wins out of four? If there were winners, well, it would have been Troon. And that’s got to brighten the mood, hasn’t it? It certainly brightened mine, even if I could barely walk again on Monday!

FINAL SCORE: Troon AFC 1 Illogan RBL Reserves 3

 

THE BEAUTIFUL GAME

DATELINE: Trefrew Park, Camelford, Saturday, September 14, 2019

MATCH: Camelford AFC v Ashton & Backwell United

CUP: The Buildbase FA Vase

ROUND: Second Qualifying Round

PICTURES: See http://www.facebook.com/cupfootballblogger/ 

THE BLOG: Football supporters often argue over who is the greatest player of all time. Modern fans wonder if it is Barcelona legend Lionel Messi or the seemingly unstoppable Christian Ronaldo? Older fans will argue a case for the likes of Sir Stanley Matthews or John Charles. Some will cite Bobby Moore or Franz Beckenbauer.

It’s all a bit of pointless argument. Not because it is impossible to really compare players from different eras but because the whole thing has already been settled. To my mind, at least. The best player of all time was Brazil’s most famous number 10, Pele. Or Edson Arantes do Nascimento to give him his, er, given name.

For a boy who grew up in the 1960s and 70s, who fell irretrievably, impossibly, deeply, head over heels in love with football as a seven-year-old watching the 1970 World Cup, there will never be a better team than the Brazilian side who won the Jules Rimet trophy in the Azteca Stadium. And the star of that side, the indisputable best player, was the great Pele. There had never been anyone like him before and there has been no one to match him since. Pele is, was and always will be the greatest.

He also coined the best phrase to describe how we all feel about this fantastic sport. There is some dispute over whether he was actually the first one to use it but the title of his autobiography summed it up perfectly: My Life and The Beautiful Game.

The beautiful game.

That’s what it is for anyone who is a football fan.

Now, it’s a long way from the arenas and rarefied atmospheres in which Pele plied his beautiful trade, like the Maracana and Wembley and even New York, to the rather less celebrated football surroundings of Trefrew Park, Camelford, but the beauty of the beautiful game is still in evidence, even at this seemingly lowly level.

For a start, especially on a beautiful late summer/early autumn day such as last Saturday, Trefrew Park’s setting is, simply, quite beautiful.

The first impression on arriving on Saturday was the gorgeous smell of cut grass, more reminiscent of a cricket ground in the spring than a football ground in September.

And then there was the view behind the top goal. Standing stark in the sharp sunshine was the granite form of Rough Tor (pronounced row, as in argument, tor), sitting proudly above the glory that is Bodmin Moor. It is the second highest point in the whole of Cornwall, standing at 400 metres (1,313 feet) above sea level, and it is magnificent. I love scenery like that and there aren’t many grounds in a better setting. Beautiful.

So, even before a ball was kicked in anger, beauty was in the air. And, as it was to turn out, a moment of pure footballing beauty would ultimately settle this hard-fought FA Vase tie. But, before that, there was a moment of no beauty at all.

It happened ten minutes before kick-off and it happened to me.

I had just walked up the grass bank to the fence surrounding the pitch and was still taking in the beautiful view when the home keeper, right at the end of his pre-match warm-up, shanked a goal-kick towards the touchline. Immediately I saw that it was heading straight for me and prepared myself for an early moment of ball retrieval glory.

I got in line, judged the bounce perfectly and, as the ball bounced over the fence, I got into the perfect position and collected the ball with both hands. Perfect.

And then I fell over.

On to the hard concrete path that runs down the touchline.

I don’t know why I fell. I didn’t need to dive to get the ball. My feet, I thought, were planted. Everything was in the correct position. Maybe I just channelled my inner goalkeeper and threw myself down but, all of a sudden I was on the ground, with a concerned Camelford player leaning over the fence, looking at me prone on the ground and inquiring in a slightly worried voice: “Are you OK, mate?”

I nodded an embarrassed yes, refused his helping hand, crawled to my feet, and threw the ball back. I felt like a total idiot, but also slightly proud that I still had hold of the football.

As the players trooped off to get ready to come back on again, I wandered around to a different part of the ground in the hope that no one would notice that I had fallen, despite the blood on my elbow and the limp caused by bashing both knees at once.

Now, as I slowly regathered my equilibrium, I must admit that much of the first 20 minutes of the game passed me by a bit. This was the first-ever meeting between the two teams and they were clearly sizing each other up in that opening period while I concentrated on a stock-take of my injuries.

One of the great things about the FA Vase is that players and supporters get the chance to watch someone new, teams that they would never normally have the chance to see. Camelford play in the Kitchen Kit South West Peninsula League Premier Division West. Ashton & Backwell play their football at the same level, Step Six, but this time in the Toolstation Western League Division One and the two clubs’ paths had never crossed before. This was an intriguing tie, not only for the faithful followers of The Camels and The Stags, but also for the neutral observer – which was me.

However, I must admit that I was not entirely neutral. I have lived in Cornwall for almost a decade now and a little bit of Cornishness has seeped into my soul. So any contest between a team from the Duchy and a bunch from “upcountry” will see my sentiments lean towards the Cornish club.

But, still stronger than my Cornish soul, is my London one. That’s where I am from, where I grew up, and anyone who has ever read this blog will know that Millwall is my team. So when a team rocks up in what they describe as “maroon and blue” but which actually looks like the red and blue stripes of the hated Crystal Palace, I let irrationality take over and generally take against them. Ashton & Backwell United, The Stags, looked too much like The Eagles for my liking. That’s football fan logic for you!

Mind you, there wasn’t much to dislike about them in the first half. After the hosts dominated the first ten minutes, A&B United took control and really should have been ahead by half-time. However, their neat and tidy tippy-tappy football lacked a cutting edge and the chances they did create were wasted. For that, they were to pay a heavy price.

Half-time came with the game goalless and then something else beautiful happened. I got a free cup of tea.

This was given to me by the club secretary who I believe to be called Hilary. I never actually asked her name during our half-time chat but I found her name in the programme later. Apologies if I have got that wrong. Everyone else in the ground would have known who she was, though, as she has served the club for 30 years. Camelford is that sort of club. Manager Reg Hambly – the team is sponsored by Reg Hambly Insurance Brokers – is now in his 29th season as the gaffer.  It is a beautiful place so, once you are there, why rush to leave?

Another beautiful gesture was to provide the visitors with a cream tea to enjoy. “We wanted them to have something special, something Cornish,” said the secretary. “And we wanted them to know the right way to do it too, with jam on first.” Turns out it was a beautiful gesture with a point!

What wouldn’t have been beautiful for me would have been a goalless draw to add footballing insult to my actual injuries, but fears of that disappeared early in the second half.

Camelford were awarded a free-kick on the edge of the box, the direct shot from it was parried by the Ashton goalkeeper and Camels’ captain Adam Sleep was on hand to knock home the rebound – so 1-0 to the home side.

Ten minutes later, Camelford won another free-kick in an almost identical position. This time, though, taker Bobby Hopkinson needed no help to extend the lead. He curled an absolute beauty into the top corner, giving the keeper no chance and putting the hosts 2-0 up.

It really was a special moment. A lot of players at a much higher level would have been proud of that strike, of its precision. What a goal. Hopkinson just stood there with arms outstretched and soaked up the adulation of his team-mates and the crowd. Beautiful.

The Stags, though, were not done yet. They still believed that they could get back into the game and, with about 15 minutes to go, they were awarded a penalty after a trip in the box and halved the deficit with the spot-kick.

There then followed a properly nervy and frantic final few minutes as a real cup tie broke out. It had been a bit of a slow burner but now it really caught fire. Even I grew nervous, catching it from the jumpy people around me, I reckon, while the secretary said afterwards that she couldn’t watch the second half at all. Football really does matter, you know.

Ashton and Backwell gradually abandoned their short passing style and did what any self-respecting side should do when trailing late on in a cup tie – they lumped it forward into the box and hoped for the best. Now that’s proper football. But, however hard they tried, the boys from near Bristol could not find the goal to take the tie into extra-time and The Camels claimed their place in the next round.

Both sides were applauded off at the end, a beautiful moment at the end of a beautiful cup clash in a beautiful place on a beautiful day.

The beautiful game? Pele was spot on about that.

POST SCRIPT: Ashton and Backwell United was only formed in 2010 as the result of a merger between Backwell United and the senior and youth sections of Ashton FC. While writing this blog I saw a message on Twitter from Ashton Football Club, which said: “It is with great sadness to hear of the loss of Ashton Boys FC founder Terry Hazel today. Terry founded the club 25 years ago, something 100s of boys and girls still enjoy. Our thoughts are with all his family, friends and the football community in general. RIP Terry Hazel.” I echo those sentiments.

 

 

TIGERS, TIGERS BURNING BRIGHT

DATELINE: Treyew Road, Truro, Saturday, September 7, 2019 and Tuesday, September 10, 2019

MATCH: Truro City v Wimborne Town; Truro City v Tiverton Town

CUP: The Emirates FA Cup; The BetVictor Southern League Cup

ROUND: First Qualifying Round; Preliminary Round

PICTURES: See http://www.facebook.com/cupfootballblogger/

THE BLOG: Cornwall has always been a land of myths and legends, of giants and sea monsters and mermaids, with remote and isolated communities telling tall tales to try to make sense of the world around them as the mist rolls in and the wind howls across the cliffs and moors and the long dark nights stretch on into the infinity of the imagination.

Even now, when Kernow is more connected to the rest of the world than it has ever been, when the summer sun fades and the tourists retreat, it still has a has a feel of separateness, of being distinctly different to the lands around it, of being slightly otherworldly. Deep in its Celtic soul, Cornwall is different, Cornwall is still a land tinged with mystery.

And right here, right now, something mysterious is happening in the strange world of Cornish football. It feels as if Kernow’s capital is finally reconnecting with its football team.

I have lived down here for ten years, and in the wider South West for a few years more, and that period of history has coincided with the rise and rise of Truro City. From the nether regions of Cornish football, via an English record for the number of successive promotions, the White Tigers rose all the way to the National League South. Along the way, they won the FA Vase – in front of a record Wembley crowd for the competition – and reached the First Round Proper of the FA Cup, where they put up a respectable performance in defeat away to Charlton Athletic.

But they have also been beset by off-field chaos.  Financial woes saw them come within moments of going out of existence before being rescued at the very last minute, maybe even later. They then sold their Treyew Road ground for a supermarket development but a plan to build a ground of their very own never came to fruition. The shockwaves from that saw them play several “home” games 80-odd miles away in Torquay before returning to Treyew Road as the supermarket plan itself stalled.

City are now owned by the Cornish Pirates rugby club, who play at a lovely but outdated old stadium in Penzance and the plan is for both clubs to finally move to a new shared ground, the Stadium for Cornwall. But planning wrangles about that have also been going on for several years and it is still a project, not a reality. The wait goes on.

It all means that, for several years now, Truro City have been mired in uncertainty, leaving even their most die-hard supporters uneasy despite the footballing triumphs, worried that their bright-light race to the top could end up being a shooting star of success, rising quickly, shining intently and dying in a blaze of glory and wistful memory.

And their success on the pitch hasn’t always endeared them to large sections of the wider Cornwall football community. Many British people are not comfortable with success and so, while the White Tigers were taking all before them on the pitch, their off-field travails gave the naysayers the chance to mutter about financial fragility, about the lack of Cornish players in Cornwall capital’s team, about the lack of sustainability of their soccer success.

In short, in my time in this part of the world, it has always felt as if Cornwall hasn’t really taken its capital city’s team to heart.

Even the build-up to this season was a bit of a mess. Having been relegated from the National League South to the Southern League a whole rebuilding process was needed but then their new manager left before the season even started to take up the role as manager of Bury FC in League One. As we all now know, that wasn’t a great career move, with The Shakers being expelled from the Football League because of their own money misery, but it may also have been a major, major moment for the White Tigers.

In his place, they moved quickly to appoint a bright new manager, Plymouth Argyle legend Paul Wotton, who in turn quickly set about building a bright new squad which started the season in fine, flowing, winning style. They also signed a few players from Cornish clubs on dual-registration deals. Some of the cynics saw that as a way of trying to curry favour with the locals but it has given players in the Duchy the feeling that there is a way of progressing in their careers without having to leave Cornwall – something which generations of Cornish youngsters in all fields of employment have had to do in the past.

Watching from afar, it began to feel as if the tide had turned, as if the worry surrounding the club was beginning to lift, as if the atmosphere at Treyew Road was more positive, more friendly, more connected, more gentle. In short, better. So the chance of going to watch two cup games there in four days was too much of an opportunity for a Cornwall-based cup football blogger to miss. So I didn’t miss it.

The fact that the first of the two ties was in the FA Cup made it all the more attractive, even though the build-up to it showed that I had been labouring under a misapprehension for many decades. You see, the White Tigers were at home to Wimborne Town and I thought that would give me the chance to show off my knowledge of obscure newspaper printing terminology, garnered from working for more than 30 years in journalism. Stick with me on this.

One of the things newspaper designers hate is when a headline on one page clashes with another on the facing page. For example, a headline on the top right of page 2 might say:

POLICE IN HUNT FOR

DANGEROUS CRIMINAL

while one on the top left of page 3 could say:

PERFECT CHEESECAKE

BEATS ALL THE REST

This gives rise to the possibility of them being read as:

POLICE IN HUNT FOR PERFECT CHEESECAKE

and

DANGEROUS CRIMINAL BEATS ALL THE REST

Now, I always thought that newspaper designers called this sort of unfortunate error a “Wimborne”. But, despite days of internet research before the game, and chatting to print colleagues, I could find no evidence of such a term existing. It would appear that I had invented a new old saying!

It also ruined all the puns I was going to write about the Truro v Wimborne game, which was a bit of a blow. I had to, as they say, find a new angle. Well, if I was writing a headline about this game, it would probably be along the lines of A TALE OF TWO KEEPERS, as one of the custodians ended the day basking in glory and the other, well, didn’t.

There was no real sign of the drama to come, though, as the White Tigers dominated their Southern League rivals in the early stages and took the lead after 13 minutes with a straightforward set-piece header from centre-half James Ward, much to the delight of most of the crowd of 363. Decent as that attendance was, it was lower than their previous home league games this season. My campaign to persuade people that cup football is the purest, most exciting form of the game, looks like it still has some way to go!

Midway through the half, and in their first real attack, the bright – and I mean very bright – orange-shirted visitors were celebrating an unexpected equaliser, Sam Bayston sweeping home after a neat move.

From that point on, Wimborne were the better side for the rest of the first 45 and almost took the lead on 34 minutes but a powerful strike on goal deflected off an orange head and went over the bar. Queue smiles from the City fans, although they hadn’t had much else to smile about for much of the first half. Truro had dominated the first 20 minutes but, once Wimborne levelled, the White Tigers looked about as convincing as an England batting line-up. Shaky.

One of the things that attracted my attention during that first half was the colour of Wimborne keeper Cameron Plain’s shirt. Unlike the vivid orange of his team-mates, which could probably be seen from outer space, his soft purple-coloured top was beautifully camouflaged by the Tribute Ale advertising hoards which cover all four sides of Treyew Road. If I took my glasses off all I could see was a head and a pair of pale, disembodied legs wandering about!

However, sadly for the young keeper, there was no camouflaging his error which eventually settled the tie in the home side’s favour. Midway through the second half he tried to play sweeper-keeper as his defence left him to deal with a long Truro punt forward but, just as he went to head the ball away from five yards outside his box, he fell over and could only watch the ball bounce over his head. City centre-forward Stewart Yetton was left with the simple task of touching the ball into the net, his 230th goal for the White Tigers, although he did decide to hit it first time and, for a moment, I thought he might have touched it wide. That would have been the miss of the season.

That was just that start of the drama, though. Minutes later, Wimborne thought they had netted the equaliser. The ref had even pointed to the centre circle to indicate a goal but, after Truro protests and a long, long chat to his linesman, he changed his mind and disallowed it for a handball in the build-up. Wimborne were not happy.

However, deep into injury-time, they had a great chance to force a replay when they were awarded a penalty but home keeper James Hamon pulled off a magnificent save to preserve Truro’s place in the next round, when they will visit Hereford United.

On Tuesday night, the White Tigers also made progress in the Southern League Cup in a much less dramatic, much more low-key affair against Devon rivals Tiverton Town. Both sides made several changes to their “league” sides and the crowd was very sparse indeed. I haven’t seen a crowd figure published for the game but the low attendance did at least mean it was quick to get to the bar!

But there was still a nice atmosphere at the game, a real feeling of connection between the crowd and the team, probably helped by the debut of young goalkeeper Dan Stedman, who is on dual-registration from South West Peninsula League side Wendron United, and the second-half introduction of defender Andreas Calleja-Stayne, who is on the same sort of deal from Penzance. James Ward, who spent last season at Falmouth Town, has already established himself in the Truro side this season and also came on as a second-half sub, adding to the Kernow connections.

By then, City were 3-0 up and cruising. Rio Garside netted the first, man-of-the-match Moulaye N’Diaye cracked home a super second and then Ryan Law’s cross was deflected in for a third, all before half-time.

I decided to spend the second half standing by the goal that Truro were attacking, in expectation of more City goals but fearing that Tiverton would put up a better showing. My fears were realised as most of the second half took place at the far end as the visitors went in search of some redemption, although they never really produced the gung-ho charge forward that a team trailing in a cup tie traditionally should. In fact, they looked like they might be able to pass all night but never get a goal.

Young Stedman was largely untroubled, his main part in proceedings being a furious reaction as the ball dipped over his head from a looping header late in the game as Tiverton finally pulled a goal back.

But it was too little too late to trouble the White Tigers and, as the team happily trooped off at the end, the generous applause and reaction from the City supporters who had come along, was a lovely moment to watch, with a real feeling of all pulling together, of positivity, of a shared cause.

It really does feel as if the White Tigers have come home.

FINAL SCORES

Truro City 2 Wimborne Town 1

Truro City 3 Tiverton Town 1

RIGHTING A WRONG

DATELINE: Blaise Park, St Blazey, Saturday, August 31, 2019

MATCH: St Blazey v Godolphin Atlantic (Newquay)

CUP: The Buildbase FA Vase

ROUND: First Qualifying Round

PICTURES: See http://www.facebook.com/cupfootballblogger/

THE BLOG: Blaise Park, the neat and characterful home of St Blazey FC, is one of my favourite grounds in Cornwall. I have been here many times and have always loved it. It has the feel of being a “proper” football ground, hemmed in by houses, roads and a railway line, but with its own patch of immaculate verdant green bringing a touch of magic to a non-touristy part of the Duchy.

I like the grass bank along the far touchline, the decent-sized seated grandstand facing it, the covered area behind the goal where you can huddle against the rain, providing the wind isn’t blowing it that direction, and the well-appointed clubhouse just the other side of the entrance gate. You can almost imagine hard-bitten comedians on the stage, battling the hecklers in a loud and lairy crowd while the laughter echoes and the drink flows. It’s a cracking place, a proper place.

I went to Bishop Auckland’s old ground way up in County Durham many moons ago and the place had the same sort of feel. Separated by hundreds of miles and distinctly different dialects they might be, but these are proper football places, proper “heart of the community” clubs, proper working-class clubs.

That feeling is made all the more poignant in the week that saw the demise of Bury FC in the Football League but the fans from there and from Bishops and from Blazey would all have the same feeling at heart, the same sense of belonging, the same sense of pride in their place. There are all, were all, “proper” football clubs and I have always had a soft spot for St Blazey because of that.

Yes, I have been to Blaise Park on numerous occasions. I have seen cup finals here, I have seen cup semi-finals here and I have even seen Cornwall Under-18s play here. But one side I had never seen play here was St Blazey. I have never, to my recollection, seen a Blazey home game. This blog, this visit, was and is all about rectifying that wrong.

This was also the opening salvo in this year’s FA Vase, a competition that gives clubs of this size and stature a genuine, if outside, chance of reaching Wembley or at least going on a long enough cup run to start to think that you can just glimpse the Twin Towers, sorry, force of habit, Big Shiny Arch looming in the dreamy distance.

Truro City won the Vase this century. St Austell reached the semi-finals a few years back. Teams in Cornwall at this level can dare to dream. So why not go along and dream with them for a bit? That was my reason for picking this tie to watch.

It also gave me the chance to renew acquaintances with Godolphin Atlantic. They have popped up in this blog several times over the years as they have proved to be real cup fighters, battling their way to finals and semi-finals several times in the past few seasons. OK, they have gone a bit quiet on the knockout football front in the past year or so, and the last time I saw them was at this early stage of the Vase last season, so it was good to have the chance to catch up with them again.

They also have a new name. They are now, officially, Godolphin Atlantic (Newquay) so we all know where they come from now.

So imagine that: a ground I have been to many times in the past but never to see the team who actually play there, and a team I have seen many times in the past but who now have a new name. The ramifications of that, and what “counts” and what doesn’t,  could take up hours on a groundhoppers’ forum. I decided not to get involved in that debate.

Instead, for me, the scene was set for what I hoped would be an entertaining and well-contested cup tie as these two teams started the day in ninth and tenth positions in the new Step Six Kitchen Kit South West Peninsula League Premier West division. Nothing to choose between them.

The weather seemed to be looking after me, as well, as the overnight rain and early morning mizzle had made way for a gloriously sunny, if a tad breezy, afternoon. It was a bit of a jumper on, jumper off sort of day but I turned out to be far too busy for any of those sort of sartorial shenanigans. You see, I had foolishly agreed to keep people updated on Twitter about what was happening in front of me, as well as trying to take notes on my phone for this blog and taking pictures (which you can see on my Facebook page, just follow the link at the top of this page).

How hard can it be? I thought. Hard enough for it all to go a bit Pete Tong at the end as it turns out.

But before I get there, let’s stick to the actual timeline of events. At 3pm, as the game kicked off, it was simply a lovely sunny Saturday afternoon watching the football. My hopes were high and the note-taking was soon in full flight. The home keeper set me on my way with a loud cry of “Away, away” as his defenders cleared a corner. It’s a shout you hear at every game but, surely, the defenders have already thought of this themselves and don’t need reminding of it every time the ball comes into the box? They wouldn’t be much in the way of defenders if they did, would they?

Mind you, there was nothing much any defender could do about the first goal, which came after just 11 minutes. The ball fell to St Blazey’s number three, Jamie Willmott, at least 35 yards from goal. As he took a touch and prepared to shoot, I had time to think: “Not from there, mate, you are way too far out,” and I fully expected the ball to go flying into the gardens behind the goal.

However, I was right in line with the shot and, just after he hit it, there was that moment when you think “Hang on, this is not a bad effort.” Then you see the keeper struggling a bit and then the ball rifles into the top corner. What a strike, what a goal. “I always said he should shoot from there,” you mutter to yourself and hope no one heard your original thoughts.

The home side’s lead only lasted 12 minutes though as they failed to properly clear a corner and a Godolphin strike across the goal and into the bottom corner made it 1-1. (Sorry, but I don’t have the names of the G scorers; I am taking the Blazey ones from Twitter so, if they are wrong, it’s not my fault)!

Just four minutes later, the home side were back in front again, Jordan Hogan heading home at the far post. When I was at junior school many years ago, our football teacher, Mr Thomas, was obsessed with hitting the ball to the far post so he would have loved that goal. Or hated it if it had gone in against us. But, even now, almost 50 years on, I can’t hear anyone shouting “far post” without thinking of Mr Thomas. The sign of a good teacher, I suspect.

I was already finding keeping up with all this goal action on Twitter quite difficult and was busy again just six minutes later when St Blazey went 3-1 ahead. Jack Alexander was the scorer, according to St Blazey social media. The ball was deflected to him and he either cleverly guided it home as it dropped to him or he scuffed it beautifully into the bottom corner. You decide. Either way, the hosts were now 3-1 up and the tie looked dead and buried already.

On 39 minutes, it looked even deader. A long ball forward caused a mix-up between the G keeper and his defence and St Blazey’s Harry Eaton was able to roll home his side’s fourth. The closely contested cup tie I had been expecting was turning in to a bit of a rout.

At half-time, once all the note-taking and Twittering had died down, I had a chance to reflect on the contrasting styles of the teams. The hosts were definitely of the “play it out from the back” modern school of thought which, to an old-timer like me, makes me feel like they are dicing with death every time they do it, while Godolphin were more powerful and direct, more traditional if you like.

There was no doubt that new-style was overpowering old at this stage of the game but I still felt the need to inject a note of caution. That note said: “I like SBFC’s style but will it still work on a muddy night in November?” Sometimes I am a bit of a footballing dinosaur but I remain to be convinced.

Early in the second half, other home-supporting voices started to reflect my caution as the visitors pulled one back in the 54th minute and the whole tie seemed to tighten up. The next time a Blazey defender dallied on the ball there were anxious cries of “Get rid of it,” from some of those around me. I understood their concerns.

However, those concerns were unfounded and, as the game entered the final 10 minutes, the hosts sealed their place in the next round when a tremendous free-kick from the edge of the box by Jordan Walton flew in to make it 5-2.

That was when my own little drama started. While I was tweeting and note-taking about that goal, there was a bit of a kerfuffle and I looked up to see a red card being brandished. I thought it was aimed at a Godolphin player, so started to note that, but then noticed that the player I thought had been sent off was still on. A quick count showed G still had 11 players so I assumed the ref had dished out a second yellow to the wrong player and so had rescinded the red.

While I was making a note of that, there was another kerfuffle and another red. This time, one of the visitors had definitely been sent off.

Then, while I was trying to make a note of that, the home side made a Horlicks of a free-kick and gifted possession to a Godolphin forward who ran through to score. So, 5-3 and quite a lot happening in the space of those 10 minutes. I had given up Tweeting by this time and just did a round-up of all the action once the final whistle had blown. Or, rather, the action as I saw it.

It was only an hour or two after the game that the St Blazey joint-manager Shaun Vincent messaged me to point out that there had, in fact, been TWO red cards, but the first one, the one I thought the ref had called back, was actually for a Blazey player. It turns out that both teams had been reduced to ten in those final, chaotic minutes.

I missed that completely and felt quite bad about it, but that pain was eased when I got a message from another spectator who said he had completely missed the second sending-off. I told you there was a lot going on in those final ten minutes.

But, from now on, I will try to keep my eyes more peeled on the action than on taking notes. And Twittering will be confined to half-time and full-time scores. You have to learn from your mistakes, you know, and not going to Blaise Park to see a St Blazey game was one mistake I am more than happy to have rectified. It was the real Cornish cup cracker I had been hoping for.

FINAL SCORE: St Blazey 5 Godolphin Atlantic (Newquay) 3

 

PARKWAY, PAULTON, PANACHE, POISE AND A PENALTY

DATELINE: Bolitho Park, Plymouth, Saturday, August 24, 2019

MATCH: Plymouth Parkway v Paulton Rovers

CUP: The Emirates FA Cup

ROUND: Preliminary Round

PICTURES: See http://www.facebook.com/cupfootballblogger/

THE BLOG: What do you think of when you hear the word “parkway”? Is it the classic definition, perhaps, of a tree-lined boulevard with free-flowing traffic whizzing along? Perhaps, if you are a football nerd like me, it really is Plymouth Parkway* that springs to mind. But, for most people, I think what it means now is a railway station that is miles from where it says it is.

Think Bodmin Parkway, for example, which is about four miles away from the town centre. Close but not that close really.

Well, I had my own FA Cup parkway moment at Parkway on Saturday.

The FA Cup, THE cup, England’s (nay, the world’s) finest example of a knockout football competition, tends to have only a tangential relationship with Cornwall, with few Cornish teams taking part and even fewer making much progress in it. My opening game of this cup football season was in Saltash and their Extra Preliminary Round defeat, coupled with St Austell’s similarly early exit, meant that the Duchy’s interest in The Cup was hanging by a thread already.

Truro City, who play in the Southern League Premier Division South, are Cornwall’s only representatives left in the The Cup and their elevated playing status means they haven’t played a game in this season’s competition yet. If they don’t get a home draw at some stage, then my outing to Saltash will have been the only time the spirit of the FA Cup has crossed the Tamar in this 2019-2020 campaign.

So I decided to cross the Tamar in the other direction in order to keep my own relationship with the mother of all football knockout competitions intact and headed for the home of Western League hopefuls Plymouth Parkway.

It turns out that their Bolitho Park ground is about the same distance from Saltash United’s Kimberley Stadium as Bodmin Parkway station is from Bodmin itself so I could happily think of it as Cornwall FA Cup Parkway station – even if it did cost me £1.50 to drive over the Tamar Bridge which connects the Duchy and Devon. Strangely, it costs nothing to come back in again. Are they trying to keep the Cornish out or is Cornwall trying to keep its people in? Answers on a postcard please.

Whatever the reason, I got back out and back in again relatively unscathed and, as so often happens when you have a longer journey than normal, I left a bit earlier than I really needed to, “just in case”, and rocked up at the ground fully 50 minutes before kick-off. This, as it turned out, had a bit of a footballing bonus.

Bolitho Park and the whole area around it has come along in leaps and bounds since I first visited it a few seasons back, when the car park by the pitch was unlit and unmade and not falling flat on your face in the dark after tripping over a mound of building sand or a raised drain cover was a bit of a triumph in itself.

Now, not only is the car park properly surfaced but the new clubhouse is immaculate and the ground has a much more welcoming feel. And then there is the new Manadon Sports Hub, a new sports centre complete with top drawer artificial pitch. As I walked into the car park – despite getting there early there was no space left so I had to park on the street – I didn’t turn right towards the Parkway ground, but headed left towards the Manadon plastic pitch for, from there, were emanating the unmistakable sounds of a football game in progress. This needed to be investigated.

It turned out to be a Plymouth and West Devon League Division One clash between Belgrave, resplendent in yellow and blue, and Plymouth Vaults, in all red. Given that I had time to spare before the big FA Cup kick-off, I stayed to watch for 20 minutes during which time I saw Belgrave miss an absolute sitter with a mis-kick in front of goal, and Vaults net twice. It proved to be microcosm of the game as a whole, which finished Belgrave 2 Plymouth Vaults 8.

Having got my footballing juices flowing properly with this little taster, I headed off to the big match and wondered once more whether a cup upset would be on the cards. Parkway had won all three of their league matches in the Toolstation Western League Premier Division this season while their visitors from Paulton, who play a step higher in the BetVictor Southern League Division One South, had had a win and a draw from their first two games.

But would the two-hour plus journey from the former coal mining village near Bath (yes, Northerners, we had mines down here too, you know) be a factor? Would it take something out of them, would it make their task that much the harder?

Well, for 45 and a bit minutes it didn’t. And then, for another 45 and a bit minutes it did.

Rovers took the lead after just eight minutes, Ed Butcher netting with Parkway baying for offside in the build-up. Obviously, we don’t have VAR at this level of the game so, instead, we just had the traditional ROW, with the home side venting their fury at the ref, the linesman, the blue sky, the gods of football and anyone or anything with ears willing (or unwilling) to listen. But there was no budging and Paulton were leading 1-0.

On 36 minutes, the visitors made it 2-0. Parkway gave the ball away in midfield and the impressive Butcher took advantage to slot home a fine solo goal. It looked a long way back for a home side who, despite their impressive early-season form, looked strangely disjointed and out of sorts with themselves.

They say that a week is a long time in politics. Well, in FA Cup football, ten minutes can also markedly change the direction of things. By half-time, Parkway were level.

Their first goal came as the first half entered injury time. A low cross came in from the right, there were appeals for a penalty as a PPFC forward was bundled over in the box, but all that was forgotten as Shane Krac followed up to slot home. Game on. A minute later, deep into injury time, Ryan Lane cut in from the right and curled an absolute beauty of a left-footed into the bottom corner. Game even more, er, onner.

At half-time, the worried cricket follower in me bit the bullet and checked the score in the Test Match. Remarkably, I noted, England had not lost a wicket while that first half was going on. Little did I know then how remarkable that Ashes cricket clash was going to turn out to be. Come on England!

Ahem, back to the football.

Ten minutes into the second half, the linesman who had so upset Parkway in the first half with his non-offside decision for Paulton’s first goal, turned from villain to hero (or the other way around, depending on who you were supporting) when he flagged for a penalty, saying that a Plymouth forward had been felled in the area. This time, Paulton’s plea for a rethink fell on deaf ears and Jordan Copp stroked home the spot-kick.

So 3-2 to Parkway and the mini-cup upset was on the cards. OK, so it wasn’t Hereford beating Newcastle back in the day, or Wigan Athletic stunning Manchester City in the final a few years ago, but there was still the smell of a shock in the air, that indefinable tang of something unusual in the atmosphere, something to keep the crowd on their toes and the edges of their seats.

By now, it was clear that Parkway had found the poise they had been lacking in the first half while Paulton had lost the panache they had exhibited so nicely in the opening 45. We were now on the verge of a shock but, such was Parkway’s dominance by now, that a shock didn’t feel like it would be a shock.

Midway through the half, any chance of the 180-plus crowd being shocked by the lack of a shock was comprehensively forgotten as Mikey Williams pounced on a defensive error to sweep home the home side’s fourth. A lovely, precise finish by Billy Palfrey made it 5-2 with 14 minutes to go and that was that.

It all meant that we could bask in the glorious August sunshine, bask in the glow of a cup upset and bask in the knowledge that my FA Cup parkway journey to Parkway had been a success. And, as I headed back over the border into Kernow, one thing was on my mind – I do hope Truro get a home draw in the FA Cup. Against an impressive Parkway side would be fun, wouldn’t it?

FINAL SCORE: Plymouth Parkway 5 Paulton Rovers 2

UPDATE: Well, I got half of my wish. Truro City have been drawn at home to Wimborne Town, also of the Southern League Premier South, while Parkway will host Merthyr Town. Truro came out of the hat first for tie number 101 while Parkway were first out for tie 102. So close to the dream draw!

*Plymouth Parkway got their Parkway name from having played for a few seasons at the city’s Parkway Sports Club. So now you know. And, no, I don’t know where the Parkway Sports Club got the Parkway bit of its name from. Is that enough parkways for now? Good.

BACK ON TRACK

DATELINE: Kimberley Stadium, Saltash, Saturday, August 10, 2019

MATCH: Saltash United v Clevedon Town

CUP: The Emirates FA Cup

ROUND: Extra Preliminary Round

PICTURES: See http://www.facebook.com/cupfootballblogger/

THE BLOG: So here we are again, season five of this blog about cup football in Cornwall and, occasionally, a bit beyond. Five seasons! A lot of highly-rated US TV shows don’t get a fifth season so I must be doing something right. Either that, or am I am just showing sheer bloody-mindedness in the face of reality. You decide.

Saturday, August 10, was almost exactly three months to the day since my last blogging game which also featured Saltash United and their Carlsberg South West Peninsula League Walter C Parson Funeral Directors League Cup cup final victory over Falmouth.

Nice to get that competition name in nice and early again this season!

And this season it has got just a little bit longer and, if anything, marginally quirkier, as it is now the Kitchen Kit South West Peninsula League Walter C Parson Funeral Directors League Cup.

But I digress. (Didn’t Ronnie Corbett used to say that while sitting in an oversized chair and telling a long-winded joke on The Two Ronnies TV show back in the 1970s and 1980s? You don’t know what you are missing, kids). After all, Saturday’s tie was not in the cup with the best name but simply in the best cup of all, the FA Cup.

It is, without a doubt, still the most coveted domestic cup competition in the world, despite its trials and travails of a few seasons back. OK, last year’s horribly one-sided final, which ended Manchester City 7 (seven) Watford 0, was a proper damp squib, but the grand old lady of knockout football is certainly starting to find her feet again.

There is life in the old girl yet – certainly for the 300-odd teams who kicked off this season’s competition in the Extra Preliminary Round. It offers the chance for glory, perhaps a bit of a pay day a little bit further down the line, and is something out of the ordinary, with every tie feeling like a special occasion. In short, it provides everything that a cup tie should. Which is the way it should be as this is THE cup after all. So what better way to start another cup football blogging season?

In fact, my nerves were jangling as I headed off to the Kimberley Stadium. Not so much because I was anxious about who would win the game – I am meant to be neutral after all – but because my own “Road to Wembley” was actually starting on the railway and not on the road as my trusty old Peugeot was lacking in the brakes department and waiting in the garage to be repaired.

I might have been able to make it to Saltash if I had driven, but I wouldn’t have been able to stop when I got there! However, could I really rely on the train to take the strain and get me there on time?

As Wembley is also unlikely to be the final destination of my own FA Cup journey this season, unless a side from Devon or Cornwall does something truly remarkable, my Road to Wembley should more accurately be called “Various Modes of Transport to an Unplanned and Unknown Final Cup Tie Destination.”

Not as catchy, is it?

But, however and wherever I am ultimately going on this journey, it all began on Saturday at the excellent Kimberley Stadium, Saltash.

The first time I came here was for a midweek league match in my pre-blogging days and, for some reason, it immediately reminded me of a Rugby League ground. Whether it was the sloping row of terraced houses just across the road outside the ground, whether it was the good, earthy, working-class feel to the surroundings, or whether I had just been watching Super League on the TV, I wouldn’t have been surprised if, instead of a football match, we had been treated to the sight and sound of 26 burly blokes bashing into one another at high speed, to the background of a man in the middle of the melee counting out loud: “That’s four! Fifth and last!”

On Saturday, it didn’t feel like that at all. It felt strange to see Kimberley in the bright sunshine (the rain showers having stopped just before kick-off although the wind meant it was definitely a “hold on to your hats” kind of day) but the light revealed it for what it truly is, and that’s a cracking little football ground, well-appointed, well-presented and, for this particular game, well-attended. That’ll do for a kick-off to my season.

Now, I tend to take notes throughout the games I watch, recording goal times and incidents and sometimes just random impressions of the moment. The first such thought that found its way into my notebook this season was: “Red and white stripes v blue and white stripes: it looks like a game of bar football in an amusement arcade by the seaside.” For those of you new to this blog, that’s a warning – my mind can wander away from the action and down some strange alleyways at times. Hold on tight!

Not that the action on the pitch wasn’t engaging. Saltash United ply their footballing trade at Step Six on the Non-League Pyramid, this season playing in the newly reorganised Peninsula League Premier West, while Clevedon Town are from the Toolstation Western League, which is at Step Five, and so there was the possibility of a cup upset, which always adds an edge to things.

The blue-and-white-striped visitors started the match on the front foot and it looked very much like their superior status would be reflected in the final scoreline. However, their finishing was not, it must be said, of the highest order. One particular effort from the Clevedon number eight was so high and so wide that even players and officials on his own side took the mickey!

The home side soon found their feet in the game, though, and their slightly more direct style looked as if it might well be more suited to the blustery conditions as they pushed Clevedon back and threatened to take the lead themselves, including going very close in one proper cup goalmouth scramble.

However, neither side could break the deadlock in the first 45 minutes and we went into half-time with honours even at 0-0, which was probably a fair reflection of the action. It did worry me a bit, though, as I have got used to seeing a glut of goals in my cup matches and starting this season with a goalless encounter would be a bad omen for the months ahead.

I needn’t have worried.

The second half produced some cracking goal action and lots of cup drama but I have to say that the biggest cheer of the afternoon came midway through the half when an agricultural clearance from a Clevedon defender not only cleared the fence around the ground, it also cleared the road running alongside the ground, cleared the front gardens of the houses on the other side of that road, bounced on the roof of one unsuspecting football ground neighbour and then flew over the house and into the gardens behind. The crowd loved it.

One of my proudest playing moments, as a no-nonsense centre-half, was playing in a works game at Alnwick Town’s ground way up in Northumberland and managing to clear the small grandstand there with one of my determined clearances. But that had nothing on Saturday’s superb “ave it” moment and – remarkably – they almost managed to do it again later on but this effort bounced back on the football ground side after hitting the roof again. Close!

But the real story of the second half was not balls being thumped clear but three cracking goals being scored. If I see a game with three better goals in it all season I will be a very lucky blogger.

The first of them came midway through the half when Clevedon’s tricky and skilful George King smashed home an absolute pearler from long distance. It was definitely, as they say, a goal worthy of winning a game. But would it?

Er, no.

Just two minutes later, Saltash’s Chris Menhenick curled home a fantastic free-kick from the edge of the box to level up matters at 1-1.

That goal caused me a bit of a conundrum. I was standing on the bank behind the goal into which he was shooting and tried to have my phone camera ready to capture the action as he took the kick. However, he struck it so well that I think I was one of the first three people in the ground – the others being the taker himself and the Clevedon keeper – to realise that the shot was arrowing into the net. So mesmerised was I by the footballing beauty of that moment that I forgot to take a photo until after the ball had hit the net. I will never make a great photographer as the football fan in me tends to take over as the major incidents of a match unfold. Sorry about that.

So, while I berated myself for missing my photographic moment, and Clevedon conducted an inquest into what had just happened, Saltash celebrated and the home fans wondered if they could go on to complete a minor cup upset.

They had their answer on 85 minutes. Saltash lost possession near the halfway line and Clevedon’s Lucas Vowles pounced on the loose ball, surged forward and smashed the ball home for a superb solo goal. Great stuff.

And then, right on 90 minutes, we had a VAR moment. Well, we didn’t actually have VAR but we could have done with it. There was an almighty scramble in the Clevedon box and The Ashes were convinced the ball had crossed the line before being clawed back by Clevedon keeper Tom Creed, but the ref and linesman on the far side thought he had done enough to keep it out.

From where I stood, ten yards behind the goal, it looked very, very close but the officials only get the one look and I wouldn’t have wanted to have had to  make their decision. So no goal was the verdict and no cup upset was the result.

With fellow Cornish side St Austell also going out, 2-1 away to Southern League Willand Rovers, Cornwall’s interest in the FA Cup now rests with Truro City, who don’t enter the action until much later in the piece. I am definitely hoping for a home draw for them otherwise my Road to Wembley might just have been a Train to Saltash, and that would be a shame.

FINAL SCORE: Saltash United 1 Clevedon Town 2.

 

THE FINAL COUNTDOWN – PART THREE. THE FINAL PART.

Falmouth Town 0 Saltash United 1

Carlsberg South West Peninsula League Walter C Parson Funeral Directors League Cup Final

Championes, championes, ole, ole, ole. I think that song will be in my head as they take me to my grave! The latest rendition of this musical ode to footballing triumph came from the players, officials and supporters of Saltash United after their 1-0 win over Falmouth Town in the final of the Carlsberg South West Peninsula League Walter C Parson Funeral Directors League Cup

DATELINE: Blaise Park, St Blazey, Saturday, May 11, 2019

MATCH SUMMARY: This was the second cup final between these two Carlsberg South West Peninsula League Premier Division sides in a matter of weeks and it ended with a measure of revenge for Saltash United, who had lost 2-1 to Falmouth Town in a controversial RGB Building Supplies Cornwall Senior Cup Final on Easter Monday. That match probably turned on a red card for an Ashes player early in the second half and was settled by a Falmouth headed goal with ten minutes to go. This time, it was Saltash who scored the decisive goal with a header from a set-piece, David Barker proving the hero on the day with his late, late winner.

THE BLOG: As a gentleman of a certain vintage, now well in to my sixth decade on this planet, the phrase “cup final” conjures up a wealth of thoughts and images in the footballing part of my brain.

Back in the day, THE cup final, the FA Cup Final, was just about the only live game on the telly all season. That might be hard to believe for those of you brought up on a diet of wall-to-wall small screen football but such was the way of the world back then.

And so the excitement around the cup final for a young football fan was palpable with a pre-match TV build-up from 9am all the way until the kick-off at 3pm. Ah, do you remember the good old days of 3pm kick-offs?

Wembley Stadium was always a riot of colour, with flags and banners and marching bands. All the dignitaries were dressed in their finest as they were introduced to the nervous players and the strains of Abide With Me echoed around the glorious old stadium.

And always, always, the occasion was bathed in a golden glow of sensational spring sunshine, adding to the colour and the sharpness of the picture and the feeling that this was something very different to your run-of-the-mill muddy and wet mid-winter encounters. It was the cup final and it was special.

Well, we might not have had the Twin Towers or, now, the Big Shiny Arch, at St Blazey on Saturday but Blaise Park looked an absolute sun-drenched picture for the final of the cup contest with the best name of them all – the Carlsberg South West Peninsula League Walter C Parson Funeral Directors League Cup.

We didn’t have the Band of the Coldstream Guards marching up and down the hallowed turf but we did have Falmouth’s noisy band of supporters, F-Troop, marching to the gates in full voice a few minutes before kick-off.

And we did have flags and banners, which is always a novel sight at matches at this level of the game, plus a few red flares from the outnumbered Saltash contingent and a host of what looked and sounded like mini-vuvuzelas for the youngsters, which greatly added to the infectiously delightful din.

We also had a crowd of just under 600 people – 585 paying punters to be precise – which is a pretty good effort for two Step Six sides. As we crowded on to the grass banks around the ground, most in T-shirts, some in shorts, there was a proper cup final buzz, that festival feeling of a big sporting occasion.

To top it all off, we were bathed in the wonderful May sunshine, exactly as we should be on a day like this. Yes, it felt like a proper cup final.

The appointed kick-off time was 2pm and I rocked up at about 1.25pm, easily the earliest I had been to a match all season (with the possible exception of an East Cornwall League Division One Cup tie at Roche when I got the kick-off time wrong and had time for a proper wander around before the action began). This was to be my last cup game of the blogging season, my third cup final in a week, and I didn’t want to miss anything.

Sadly though, I did miss something. A pasty.

Rumour has it that the Saltash coach turned up at Blaise Park at midday, a full two hours before kick-off and, by 12.30pm, all the pasties had gone. Here in Cornwall, a paucity of pasties constitutes a proper crisis. No big occasion, or small one for that matter, is complete in the Duchy without a pasty. It’s part of the culture.

Just before I sat down to write this, I walked up to the little shop in town and there, on the door of one of the neighbouring businesses, was possibly the most Cornish sign I have ever seen: “Back in 5 mins. Just popped up the shop for a pasty.” This hiatus in the commercial process might have caused consternation in other parts of the world but here people would have said to themselves: “Fair enough,” and then wondered about wandering off to get a pasty themselves while they were waiting.

But to be fair to cup final hosts St Blazey, that was about the only thing missing from the day. I had a chat with groundsman Paul before the game and he was rightly proud of how the ground looked, especially the pitch, which glowed an immaculate green.

The club have hosted a number of cup finals and semi-finals over the past few weeks, including Wednesday night’s Charity Cup final between St Dennis and Illogan RBL (see blog below, The Final Countdown – Part Two) but there were no signs of wear and tear. Blaise Park has long been one of my favourite football grounds in Cornwall, it looks and feels like a “proper” football ground, and I only grew to love it more on Saturday.

Appeals for a foul are waved away at a sun-drenched Blaise Park as Saltash United, in red, and Falmouth Town met in a cup final for the second time in a few weeks, this time the Carlsberg South West Peninsula League Walter C Parson Funeral Directors League Cup.

But which club, which set of supporters, would love it the most come the final whistle, that was the big question? Saltash already had great memories of St Blazey, having beaten Mousehole here in the final of last season’s Cornwall Senior Cup, while Falmouth Town had already beaten the Ashes in one final this season, taking the Senior Cup title from them, but were now defending the CSWPLWCPFD League Cup title that they claimed last year.

Easter Monday’s Senior Cup Final had been thoroughly entertaining, with three goals, one red card, loads of chances at either end and, ultimately, a late Fal winner. Would Saturday’s final live up to that?

The truth is that, although it was always absorbing, it was not a thriller. You kept feeling that you were right on the edge of something truly dramatic happening but it never quite got there. It was an altogether a more cagey affair than the Senior Cup Final.

Falmouth, loudly urged on by the big majority in the crowd who had come along to make a proper day out of it, certainly started the brighter and, for much of the first half, kept the Ashes pinned right back. They struggled to create many clear-cut openings though, with probably the best chance coming late in the half when a shot from the right-hand side of the box whistled just wide of the far post.

In fact, one of the highlights of the opening 45 minutes was an overheard exchange between opposing players. After another appeal for a foul had fallen on excellent referee Stuart Ash’s deaf ears, one player launched into yet another complaint about the man in black’s performance.

“Oh shut up moaning,” came the reply from a member of the opposition.

“Shut up telling him to shut up,” intervened an anguished third party.

Oh the level of footballing debate. It does make me smile.

So, 0-0 at half-time but no need for me to worry. I always see goals in the cup games I blog about across Cornwall and beyond. The capricious gods of footballing fate wouldn’t let me down on the last day of the season, would they? Would they?

Well, for a long time, a very long time, it looked as if they would.

Falmouth started the second half seemingly determined to make their possession superiority count and kept pushing forward, but the goal wouldn’t come as chances were missed and the Ashes defended stoutly and intelligently.

Hmm, still goalless going into the final quarter. What was going on here?

Then, almost imperceptibly, the tide began to turn. Saltash made a couple of substitutions which gave them more of an attacking threat and they began to have a few more goal chances of their own. Falmouth were still a threat going forward but there was a growing feeling around Blaise Park – well, OK, I had a growing feeling – that if anyone was going to nick it, then it would be Saltash.

But I think most people were beginning to settle for extra time and, perhaps, penalties, to decide the destination of the cup, when up stepped David Barker with a storming header into the top corner as the match counted down towards injury time. 1-0 to Saltash. Would it be enough?

In the few minutes left Falmouth valiantly tried to grab that elusive equaliser but, in truth, it never looked likely to come and, at the final whistle, it was the Saltash players and fans jumping for joy and the Falmouth followers who were left to rue what might have been.

And that was that for my cup journey this season, my fourth year of blogging about the joys of the beautiful game in its knockout form.

As I lingered by the gate watching the celebrations and listening to the hum of cup final conversation, I thought back to games I had watched earlier in the season, mainly to the beginning of my journey through the Carlsberg South West Peninsula League Walter C Parson Funeral Directors League Cup for 2018-19.

It all began in an absolute downpour at the wonderfully named Lantoom Park as Dobwalls edged out St Blazey in a First Round tie and then ended in glorious spring sunshine at St Blazey itself on Saturday. The end of any long journey is a poignant moment of memories and reflection and I didn’t really want to leave Blaise Park, I didn’t want the season to be over.

But, for me, it was and I consoled myself with the thought that, in August, it will all be starting all over again. Who knows, the sun might even still be shining then.

Blaise Park, St Blazey, was in fine fettle for the Carlsberg South West Peninsula League Walter C Parson Funeral Directors League Cup Final between Falmouth Town, in yellow and black, and Saltash United. The stand was sparsely populated as most of the crowd of 585 paying souls elected to bask in the glorious sunshine.

NB: For more pictures, see my Facebook page. Search for Peter Harlow @cupfootballblogger

CONTACTS AND COMMENTS: If you have any thoughts or observations about this blog, comment on my Facebook page (search for Peter Harlow), get in Twitter contact via @cupfootblog or email me at thecupfootballblogger@hotmail.com

 

 

THE FINAL COUNTDOWN – PART TWO

St Dennis 4 Illogan RBL 0

Durning Lawrence Cornwall Charity Cup Final

A blur of grey delight! Delighted St Dennis celebrate after their comprehensive victory over Illogan RBL in the final of the Durning Lawrence Charity Cup. (I am almost out of picture memory in WordPress so, for more pictures from this game, go to my Facebook page – search for cup football blogger).

DATELINE: Blaise Park, St Blazey, Wednesday, May 8, 2019

MATCH SUMMARY: A dominant first-half display by St Dennis, including a hat-trick by Jacob Rowe, saw the side from the Clay Country ease to a trophy triumph against underdogs Illogan RBL. Illogan had lifted the Cornwall Combination League Cup a couple of weeks earlier with a lively display against St Day but they really struggled to get going in the first 45 minutes of Wednesday night’s cup final. St Dennis, who play one level higher than Illogan, at Step Seven, were simply too pacy and powerful for them to cope with in the first half. Illogan were better after the break and, if they had got one goal back, who knows what might have happened? But they didn’t and St Dennis scrambled home a fourth to seal their success and lift the Cornwall Charity Cup.

THE BLOG: On my way to Wednesday night’s Charity Cup Final, the sunny weather gave way to frequent showers and, suddenly, I was confronted by a vibrant rainbow. As ever, I mused quietly to myself about where the end of the rainbow was and how handy the legendary pot of gold at the end of it would be. That money would go to good use. A new car. A holiday. A new house. A new first team for Millwall in the hope that we can avoid a relegation struggle again next season.

Then I thought: “You know, the right-hand end of that rainbow does look awfully close to Blaise Park, the home of St Blazey FC”, the venue for the very cup final for which I was heading. And that meant that the pot of gold wasn’t going to be a life-changing sum of money for me but, instead, it was going to be a healthy tonic of cup glory for either St Dennis or Illogan RBL.

Now, anyone who has read this blog before will know that the Charity Cup has a special place in my cup football blogging heart. Even though it is just an invitation tournament for 16 teams at Step Seven and below, it still means a lot. Back in 2015, I saw St Dennis edge out my hometown boys of Penryn Athletic 2-1 in the final and it was the emotion of that night, the joy and despair, that made me realise that almost all of my favourite, most memorable, moments in football came about in cup competitions.

Hence this blog was was born and I haven’t missed a Charity Cup Final since. In 2016, I saw Mousehole lift the trophy by beating holders St Dennis in the final; the next season saw Sticker lift the cup with another win over the unfortunate Penryn; and last season I watched as Mousehole won the trophy again with a big win over Wadebridge.

So there was no way I was going to miss the final this year, especially as it made up the middle leg of a triumvirate of cup finals in this, my final blogging week of the football season. It followed the Cornwall Junior Cup Final on Sunday (won by Mousehole Reserves, see blog below) and preceded the big final on Saturday – Falmouth Town v Saltash United in the Carlsberg South West Peninsula League Walter C Parson Funeral Directors League Cup.

Therefore, full of anticipation, I followed the rainbow to Blaise Park, expecting to see the light blue of St Dennis take on the black and white stripes of Illogan. Instead, the Saints took away all colour to play in a fetching two-tone shade of grey, while Illogan went the other way and ditched the monochrome for a vivid orange. “Looks like something out of the 1980s,” said Dave Deacon, of Cornwall Football Forum fame. I don’t think he meant it as a compliment but I quite liked the bright shirt. Probably says something about my fashion sense.

Sadly for Illogan, their shirts proved to be the brightest thing about them in the first half as they were overwhelmed by a rampant tide of grey. Maybe they just couldn’t see them in the overcast light of an early spring evening.

Jacob Rowe was the main beneficiary of Illogan’s colour blindness, bagging himself a first-half hat-trick in somewhat strange style. His first was a free header from all of three yards, a simple finish after Illogan had repulsed a wave of powerful strikes on goal from the St Dennis frontline.

For his second, he waltzed through the defence but then scuffed his shot a bit as he rounded the keeper. His effort was cleared off the line – but the clearance wasn’t as well hit as it might have been and rebounded in off him as he fell to the ground.

His third was a tap-in after a scramble in the goalmouth which trickled painfully slowly over the line, just evading the despairing stretch of the final defender. On Twitter, journalist Gareth Davies quite accurately described it as “the scruffiest ever hat-trick” but Rowe, his team-mates and the St Dennis faithful coouldn’t give a jot about that. They were 3-0 up at half-time and had one hand and four fingers on the cup already. What could possibly go wrong?

Well…

All the terrace chatter at half-time was about Liverpool’s astonishing comeback in the Champions League semi-finals the night before, coming from 3-0 down to Barcelona in the first leg to win the second 4-0 and earn a place in the final. Could Illogan do something similar?

We all thought that was very unlikely. I mean, how often does that happen?

Of course, this was before we discovered that, at that very moment, it was starting to happen again – but in Amsterdam, not St Blazey. By the time the final whistle blew in Cornwall, Tottenham had already fought back from 3-0 down v Ajax to only trail 3-2. They couldn’t do a Liverpool, could they? Well, as I listened to the end of the game in the car on the way home, it turned out that they could. Amazing.

So the half-time question was: Could Illogan RBL do a Liverpool? (Or, as we now know it, a Tottenham)? Would St Dennis become the latest stunned victims of a thrilling cup comeback, alongside Barcelona and Ajax Amsterdam? Is this the first time those two Cornish minnows have been mentioned in such exalted footballing company?

The answer to the last question above is probably yes. The answer to the previous two was, sadly for the neutrals in the Blaise Park crowd, no.

Illogan were much, much better after the break and threatened to nick that first goal that would get them back in the game. Who knows what would have happened then?

But the goal wouldn’t come and St Dennis put to bed any chance of a fightback by scoring a fourth, from yet another scramble. Such was the bumbling, untidy nature of the goal that we couldn’t work out who had scored so, while the Illogan keeper received treatment for an injury he received in the melee, we asked a nearby St Dennis official/fan (not sure which) who the scorer was.

He didn’t know either but obligingly shouted our query to the nearest Saints player. He replied with a name but then added: “Although it could have been an own goal by the keeper.”

At that point, we all gave up and just decided to go with the phrase: St Dennis scrambled home a fourth. Lucky journos covering the Premier League and Champions League never have this sort of problem!

And that was that. Huff and puff as they might, Illogan couldn’t get the goal their efforts probably deserved and, at the final whistle, it was the turn of the St Dennis players to break into the by now traditional and joyous rendition of “Championes, championes, ole, ole, ole!” They thoroughly deserved their moment of delight and celebration.

As long as you are not a supporter of the losing side, it is always a happily enjoyable ritual to watch and it meant that I left the ground with a satisfied cup final smile on my face.

But there were other winners on the night, too, and I don’t mean Tottenham.

The Charity Cup does exactly what it says on the tin – it raises money for charity. For the second season running the Cornwall FA had voted to raise vital funds for The Invictus Trust, a local campaign which aims to help youngsters in Cornwall who are suffering from serious mental health issues. It really is a good cause.

Before the game, a cheque for £1,219 was presented  to the trust, all raised during this beautiful cup competition. Well done Cornwall FA and all the clubs involved in the tournament. Football with a heart and soul … you have got to love it.

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