A good night, Irene

We're loyal supporters, faithful and true,
We always follow the boys in Blue (and white),
We all made a promise, that we'll never part . . .
(Goodnight Irene)

I've been thinking a lot about those words today.
It's transfer deadline day.
The day when the football world goes mad, throwing around money like, well, Northern Rock and it's fellow merry bankers.
And every football fan in the land is either glued to Sky Sports News, listening to Radio 5, or trying to get updates from their club's websites.
I guess I've just about got over the horrible weekend Walsall hangover.
It's been a tough day though.
My baby's been sick.
The shower is leaking through the newly decorated roof of the room downstairs.
The car tax and credit card bill have needed to be paid.
And I've been trying to do everything with my fingers crossed on account of the fact that I feared that any moment the news would come through that our star striker Good Will Hoskins has been shipped out to someone for a vastly undervalued fee.
People like me don't give a damn about whether some loyalty tested Spaniard wants to switch from an American big business franchise to a Russian billionaire's playground (for those who don't know, Torres has airlifted his mighty wallet from Liverpool to Chelsea).
We haven't the slightest interest in the fact a much-travelled Irishman has moved from one London club to another (Robbie Keane's joined West Ham on loan).
Or that the trusty board of Newcastle have "turned down" a move from Liverpool for their key striker Andy Carroll, only to have a change of heart when the value increased by £5m.
It's all monopoly to us. A long, long way from reality.
All we want to see flicker across the screen, or get a mention on local radio, or flash up on the Gas website, is the fact we have added to our depleted ranks and managed to hold on to our key players.
Until very late in the day - and this transfer window seems to close later and later these days - the only bit of business we had done was to hold on to the defender Dave McCracken we had loaned for a month from Brentford.
Good news indeed.
Then as I was putting away the last of the dishes, saying goodnight to the Mrs and considering turning in myself, I learned that not only was Mr Hoskins going nowhere, but we had signed on a tough tackling Congolese midfielder JP Kalala from local rivals Yeovil.
Not an earth-shattering addition, I'll grant you, but by his disciplinary record alone it sounds like he isn't the sort of player who will play the shrinking violet when things become a bit tricky.
Welcome, JP.
The whole sorry transfer merry-g0-round got me thinking, though.
While loyalty seems such a cheap commodity in football these days, there's no transfer deadline day for fans.
You can't just reach January 31 with your club in the bottom four and decide: I want out.
As the song, our unique anthem Goodnight Irene, says: "We all made a promise, that we'll never part..."
And despite the hammering at Walsall and previous batterings that we have suffered in this god-awful season, the one thing that stays "true" to the Blue and White Quarters is the thousands of Gasheads who "always follow", maybe not pitchside at the Mem every game but around the globe.
Our players may let us down more regularly than we would like, but we won't let them down.
It's time to give them a chance, the new manager a chance, the new signings a chance and, for 20 games, urge on the Gas . . . not necessarily the club we chose, more the club that chose us.
Hopefully, when we see you in our dreams, you'll still be in League One come May.

Anyone for tennis?

I feel like it's groundhog day.
Just when you thought things had turned the corner.
Just when you thought the new manager had instilled a bit of confidence in the battered troops and bought in some decent new additions to the squad.
And just when you thought the days of heavy defeats were behind you.
6-1. again.
So far this season for my beloved Gas has resembled an Andy Murray choke in a Grand Slam final.
Losing 6-1, 6-2, 6-1.
Tennis scores on a football pitch.
And this time even worse. Because this was against Walsall. The bottom team in the division, well adrift of the rest, cannon-fodder for all comers.
Except us.
Midlands poor relations 6, West country bottlers 1.
I wonder what our new boss Dave Penney must be thinking now.
In one way I suppose he knows exactly the task he is facing.
In another, he must be wondering if even his combination of motivation, tactics and northern grit can turn around our fortunes in the last 20 games of the season.
Because it is now plain for all to see that when the going gets tough, the Rovers simply fold.
I was full of optimism before Saturday's game. We bought in two loan signings, a big striker named Rene Howe from Peterborough and Reading midfielder Scott Davies.
But neither were on the pitch when we found ourselves 3-0 down in the first 45 minutes.
"Oh well," my wife said, trying in vain to lighten my mood. "They could come back and win 4-3."
I stuck to that thought and was lifted more when Jeff Hughes got one back immediately after half time.
But a minute later I was in the depths of despair again. Walsall made it four.
And things didn't get better from there.
It's difficult to explain what a result like this does to you on a Saturday.
You try different things to cheer yourself up, but it's always nagging at your brain - every second of every hour.
Play with the baby. 6-1.
Cook tea for the family. 6-1.
Watch a movie. 6-1.
Try to sleep. 6-1, 6-1, 6-1.
Watch Andy Murray fold in the Australian Tennis Open final. 6 bloody 1.
And it will only alleviate when Wednesday comes around and the hope that in those few days Penney and his assistants can work some kind of miracle before the visit of MK Dons.
The way I look at it, we are undoubtedly the worst team in the division, barring perhaps Dagenham. But at least they've got some fight, if not the talent.
I can't recall in our history so many heavy defeats in one season. So many collosal reversals. So many depressing days.
I know there are trials and tribulations associated with being a Gashead.
It has always been thus.
But when over a thousand fans still turn up to support you away from home and you can't even compete, but throw in the towel so easily, that is a little too much for anyone to bare.
At the moment I can find no silver lining to this particularly dark storm cloud.
All I can hope is that the current management team learned more about our club on Saturday than they did in the false dawn that was our 3-1 win over Swindon Town.
Otherwise we are sinking back down to the Football League basement and the joys of visits to Accrington, Macclesfield and Lincoln.

Three points. You bet!

BEFORE you call the Missing Persons Unit, or check around the local hospitals, I can assure my avid follower that I am still very much alive and kicking.
The trouble is it has taken me three days to climb down off the ceiling.
Bristol Rovers won a game. Repeat, Bristol Rovers won a game.
We beat Swindon Town 3-1 in the west country derby at the Mem and everything in the garden is rosy again.
Suddenly all our players aren't complete and utter rubbish.
Suddenly, we aren't completely doomed to dropping down into the Football League basement, then on to the Blue Square Conference and from there a short march to oblivion.
And suddenly our new manager Dave Penney is a complete miracle worker.
Lower league team with striking resemblance to 70s Brazil 3,
Poor lambs to the slaughter from small town off the M4 1.
And I am ecstatic. Joyous. I can't remember feeling this good . . . well, certainly not since October 16 anyway.
Ah yes, October 16. When we managed to despatch the woefully inadequate Rochdale 2-1 on our own patch. The woefully inadequate Rochdale who, since that defeat, have launched a full-blooded assault on a playoff spot while we have sunk into deep relegation doodoo. And haven't won once.
Mind you, I reckon our poor run has a lot to do with Jonesy.
Jonesy, the Luton Town follower in the office, who doubles up as the world's worst gambler.
I wouldn't say it is a gambling problem . . . but the problem is he isn't any good at gambling.
Shortly after that Rochdale result he suddenly started to taking a great interest in ROOOVVVERS, as he began to shout at the top of his voice in a hideous attempt to copy my Brizzle dialect.
Every Saturday he was asking: "So, Rippers, will your boys score today?"
Of course, that is the million dollar question. All I know is that I wouldn't put money on it.
It didn't dissuade him, though, and every match since he has put his hard earned on both sides scoring in every game that Rooovvvers play.
It came to a head against Sheffield Wednesday when the Gas somehow managed to forge ahead early on.
"Now I need Wednesday to score, Rippers. I'm sure your boys can get another one later but both sides must score to win me some money."
Well, his wish came true. They scored. And scored. And scored. And scored. And scored. And scored.
And he was right, we did get another. We lost 6-2.
Unfortunately, this doesn't earn him any money. Because he needs another seven predictions to come in. So he's cursed us, but not won anything anyway.
I kid you not, I have started getting rather narky with him, accusing him of putting a hex on us by willing the opposition to score.
On Saturday, with the Gas 2-0 up through Good Will Hoskins and Joker4 (or Jo Kuffour to those uninitiated in Rovers website talk), and he is at it again.
"Now, Rippers, I really need Swindon to score. You won't mind if they get one, will you?"
I give him a glare that would curdle milk. "Oooh, don't be like that!" he says.
"It's all your fault we're where we are. In the relegation zone," I moan.
He looks stunned and, to be honest, the logic doesn't really follow.
But these are the straws we football league followers clutch at when things start to go pear shaped.
Thinking about it, I say, "I don't mind if Swindon score as long as we win 3-1."
"Deal," he says, as if we have some power over these things.
Yet, lo and behold, it turns out exactly that way.
Not only that, but for the first time in living memory Jonesy actually WINS some money.
My god. With the repo men waiting at the gates of his house, he has managed to ward them off thanks to a series of results that have gone in his favour.
And our luck has turned as well.
Mind you, I can't help asking him: "Please Jonesy, for the sake of my sanity, don't include the Gas in your bet next week."

Perfect Foyle

YOU would think as a responsible adult I would know better.
But this week I persuaded my four-year-old grandson Marley to attend a below-average League One football game between Bristol Rovers and Hartlepool on a bitterly cold January night.
I did it by telling him how exciting it would be, how there would be a big crowd and that it would be much better than going to see the successful X-factor contestants JLS live with his mum and big brother.
Then when we got there I told him that he had to shout for the team in the blue and white quarters, because they were the best.
I omitted to mention the fact they hadn't won for 11 games, were currently mired in the relegation zone and there was unlikely to be a shot on target in the first half.
He's now officially a Gashead and programmed for a lifetime of misery, poor dab.
Still, he enjoyed the experience and I had pleasure in answering his myriad of questions like "Why is the ball always up the other end of the field, Grandad?"
To his credit he held on until half time, but when I offered him the chance to stay for the second half I could see the look of concern etched on his little features.
And for the first time that day I made the right call, whisking him off to the car before frostbite set in.
Of course, when I got home and turned the radio on I was not surprised but, I admit, a little bit pleased with the final outcome:
West country giants 0, Coldest place in the world who have a monkey as mayor 0
And for the first time in 17 games we had managed to stop the opposition from scoring.
I must admit I had sat through the first half thinking: Who is that bloke in the middle of our defence?
I knew it wasn't the young Irishman Cian Bolger, who was signed on loan from Leicester earlier in the day.
But he didn't resemble any of our usual defenders - mainly because he was talking to those around him, shouting instructions, winning headers and clearing his lines in a no-nonsense way.
Turned out I had missed our second signing of the day, the former MK Dons and Dundee United centre back David McCracken, brought in on a month's loan from Brentford.
Our new acquisition took the man-of-the-match award and I tip my hat to manager Dave Penney for his first real move into the transfer market.
Today, more good news - or it appears to be. Martin Foyle, the former Port Vale striker and latterly manager at Vale, Wrexham and York City, has been appointed as first-team coach. He has a vast wealth of experience and should help out Penney in our fight against relegation.
I shall pass on this info to my grandson and tell him that it won't be long now before the mighty Gas are moving up the table again.
Having talked about nothing else but the football since returning to his home in Southend, I am sure he will delighted.

A cunning plan

I don't mind people looking at me perplexed when I tell them I am a Bristol Rovers fan.
I don't even mind them taking the mickey, to be honest.
But when those around you start showing you SYMPATHY, that's when I get really fed up.
Sympathy for the fact that you are adrift in the relegation zone of League One.
Sympathy because it seems every week you are getting walloped by the might of Orient or Carlisle.
Sympathy because they can see in your eyes how the demise of your beloved club is affecting you.
And I realise how perilous the plight is when I take a close look at the people who are passing out that sympathy.
Sat next to me, for instance, is a bloke who supports Luton Town, for God's sake. A team who crashed and burned in just a few seasons after gracing the top flight not too many moons ago. They now spend their Saturdays strutting their stuff in the wild and wonderful world of the Blue Square Premier.
The Hatters fan says: "Oh dear, Rovers. What's going wrong?" and I stutter and stammer because I can't think of an adequate response, particularly as there is only another five hours left in work and it would take far too long to explain.
Then there are the sad eyes of the colleague who has been a lifelong follower of Stockport County. Managerless Stockport, just a couple of points away from dropping out of the league Stockport. Almost went bankrupt last year Stockport. But he is looking at me as if my anxiety is a thousand-fold compared to what he is going through.
He doesn't need words. It is almost telepathic the way he is sending me the message through those portholes of the soul: "I know what you're going through - it's the start of the slippery slope."
Another guy, who can't decide week by week whether to show solidarity with his west country upbringing and follow Plymouth or stick with his more sophisticated, debonaire London lifestyle and shout for Millwall, is more forthright in his appraisal. "Rippers, you lot are in big trouble. How did it get to this?" And he puts a sympathetic arm around my shoulder.
Even the boss. Yes the West Ham loving boss, who is seeing his team becoming a laughing stock in the national media, has words of sympathy for my cause when previously he would have suffered vertigo just looking down as far as the bottom of League One.
This all came after our new manager's first game in charge on Saturday . . .
Northernmost football outpost inhabited only by sheep and wild goats 4
Big Cosmopolitan Metropolis at the other end of the country 0
Driving back to the west country everything seems black, empty . . . like some post-war Armaggedon. And all I can think is: "Where HAS it all gone wrong."
I start going over and over in my head the scenarios that have led to this point.
The optimism of the early season - the "landmark" signings of Will Hoskins, Gary Sawyer and Wayne Brown - the talk of our manager at the time, Paul Trollope, that we would be better placed to make a playoff push this season.
Then the harsh realities of losing 6-1 to Oxford United in the Carling Cup, crushing defeats at home to Southampton (4-0) and Orient (3-0), exit from the FA Cup to non-league Darlington and then the ignominy of another battering at Sheffield Wednesday.
Trollope gone. A season caving in around us.
A 3-2 home defeat to Plymouth after going 2-0 up, then the brief hope with the appointment of Dave Penney as our new manager.
To now . . . three points from safety, and four if you consider our wretched goal difference.
But wait.
A glimmer shines through on the horizon.
It comes in the form of Penney's appointment, and the way it was announced.
The Rovers chairman Nick Higgs said that this man had a great track record and knew the lower divisions with a vast knowledge of the players therein.
He had got Doncaster promoted from League 2 and taken Darlington into a playoff spot, only for them to have points deducted because of their perilous financial situation.
He had been given the job on a long-term contract.
I start thinking . . . and I can see what the board intended with this appointment.
It is a fail safe.
A long-term strategy.
If Penney keeps us up it is a huge bonus. He will have started rebuilding while managing to retain our status as a League One club.
If we are relegated?
The last time it happened we were totally unprepared.
We had a rookie manager who had no clue about the challenges presented by weekly trawls to Macclesfield and Lincoln.
This time we already have the man in place who can disband the team, bring in his own players and enable us to bounce back up.
No one is saying it publicly, of course, but this is what I am now convinced the board had in mind.
Rebuild, hopefully stay up but, if not, return stronger and more prepared for a second crack next time.
And I can't really fault the logic.
Yes, the board have taken a lot of stick recently but I wonder who we would rather have in charge?
Some charlatans obviously in it to asset strip and leave the club in turmoil? an organisation who have a former cockney wideboy in the background pulling the strings who will always interfere, undermining the manager, whoever that happens to be? or a couple of porn barons and a media-friendly chief executive who continue to give out votes of confidence like confetti while conspiring behind the scenes to appoint someone in the manager's place?
Our directors may be a bit naive at times, even too sentimental you might think when you consider the end of Trollope's tenure, but until things go completely Pete Tong I am prepared to give them the doubt over this one.
They may just have it right.

Meet the new boss...

OH, it's a wonderful new era.
We Gasheads are skipping to work, smiling in the face of adversity, feeling that we have found a shiny, bright new penny on the pavement.
And perhaps we have. A new Penney to be precise.
Ok, so we only drew at home to the bottom club in League One.
Dave Penney's mighty Blue and White Army 2,
Miserable Black country town where I once broke down on Boxing Day 2
But there were signs...
Signs, that we can turn around our dismal form of 2010.
Signs that, though now three points adrift in the relegation zone and bottom of the current form table, we actually still have a few decent players at the club.
And signs that our new boss actually has some tactical acumen and isn't just going to try to baffle us with bullsh*t.
Don't get me wrong. Trolls was a nice fella and I am sure he was a decent coach.
But if one thing really infuriated me during his reign it was his version of management speak in the press.
He would say things like, "We tried to put pressure on them in the right areas but for some reason we weren't quite able to do that", when actually what he meant was "We tried to get hold of the ball but they wouldn't let us have it".
Followed by the infuriating, "We played well but unfortunately weren't able to perform to our full capabilities in both boxes" ... Roughly translated: "We couldn't score and they got loads".
And there was the various talk about new systems, playing a "fluid" way where the forward-looking players would switch positions at various times.
I'm sure it all looked great on the chalk board but sometimes I wonder whether he confused his own players with the new tactics he tried to introduce.
Whatever, the new man seems quite straight forward. Perhaps it's his northern upbringing.
(Please feel free to put on a Yorkshire accent at this point...)
"Ah'll play four-four-two tha' knowst, getting blokes up t'front to tackle back, fight for the cause and keep us in t'other arf. I want ma wingers to play on t'wing, to chook in crosses and a big bloke t'win t'ball or become a bloomin' nuisance anyhow. Ah want to keep our goalscorer Hoskins so that he will be able to pick up t'pieces and add to his phenomenal tally.
"At t'back ah want us to tackle, block and stop t'other buggers using our goal like Phil t'Power does with the trebles on a dart board.
"Tha' knowst football is a simple game and that's t'way I want to play it."
Actually, I don't think DP (as we are already referring to him, though this could be confused with Darren Patterson our, for the moment, assistant manager) speaks quite like that but the sentiment is real. He wants to play a highly pressurised 4-4-2 system in which everyone works their butts off to keep us in League One.
And A-men to that.
I do believe he started the job on Tuesday night. Our first half performance was nothing short of disgraceful and we could have been three down to Walsall at half time.
But in the second half the Gas came out firing, immediately turned the game on its head and in the end were unlucky not to win.
So what did Penney do?
Visibly, he made an important half-time substitution, bringing on Jo Kuffour for young Eliot Richards and watching him turn in one of his best performances of recent times.
But what we don't know is exactly what happened in the dressing room.
Certainly we looked more organised, defended further up the pitch, and players like young Ben Swallow on the wing were given license to run at defenders and attack.
As far as the back four were concerned I felt our loan signing from Brighton James Tunnicliffe - so far a huge disappointment in the quarters and getting his fair amount of stick from fans - looked far more up for the task.
Gary Sawyer, our left back signed from Plymouth, was an absolute revelation after a pretty ordinary first half and was possibly my choice as man of the match.
An interesting first outing for our new manager.
What wasn't so exciting was what followed afterwards.
DP announced that he would be trying to bring three or four new faces into the building and was hoping to name a new assistant manager on Wednesday.
By Thursday he was forced to admit: "We tried to get t'big striker but 'is club wanted to keep him in case of injuries" (memories of the Chris Wood/West Brom saga last year)
"Another blook we were after chose to join another club he had been on loan at." Doh.
"I tried to bring in an assistant but after chatting to the wife he decided he didn't want to join me."
Disappointing, and echoes of Trolls and Lennie Lawrence in the January transfer window last season.
As it is, we will be going to Carlisle United with exactly the same players that have got us into the current mess we have found ourselves in.
Rather than continuing to tell us they are "too good to go down" it's time they dug us out of it - and hopefully the motivational powers of DP, plus another couple of days on the training field, will help them do it.
Meanwhile, I can only hope that next week brings the shiny, happy new faces that we Gasheads crave.

The Penney drops

AT last we have a new manager - and just in time for our bottom-of-the-table clash against Walsall at the Mem.
The man who has been appointed is Dave Penney, formerly in charge at those footballing strongholds of Doncaster, Darlington and Oldham. Already there seem to be some restless natives suggesting that he wasn't the person they were hoping for.
Of course, they were banking on Jose Mourinho, Rafa Benitez or perhaps Guus Hiddink, who might have taken time out of his busy schedule to rescue the mighty Gas from their current predicament.
I, however, am delighted. He's a manager who understands the lower divisions, has experienced success before - launching Doncaster on their return from obscurity to a comfortable position in the Championship - and is used to getting by on a shoestring budget.
Other names were mentioned - Paul Hart and Geraint Williams among them - and they both might have done a decent job, but neither has the experience Penney brings to the table.
Some of my belief, though, goes back to his playing days.
I came across Dave during a previous life as a journalist on the Welsh national Sunday newspaper, creatively named Wales on Sunday.
At the time he was absolutely revered in Swansea as the captain of Jan Molby's sublime footballing side who only missed out on automatic promotion from the bottom division because Fulham and Wigan beat them to it.
How? Well a certain business mogul named Mohammed Al Fayed had just taken over at Craven Cottage and the owner of the JJB sports empire Dave Whelan had started pumping money into his home town club oop north.
Where are those two sides now? Both sitting pretty in the Premier League.
As for Molby's side, despite being quite a few points clear of their nearest rivals they ended up having to go through the lottery of the play-offs.
They reached the Wembley final, only to lose to Northampton with the last kick of the game, a flukey free kick by a side which until then had barely threatened the Swans goal.
For Gasheads the name of the Northampton manager on that day will be all too familiar, a certain Ian Atkins.
Penney was later to move on to Swansea's arch rivals Cardiff City and was instantly installed as captain, but was never that popular because of his history with the "hated" Jacks. Unfortunately the move, which he insisted came about because Swansea had stitched him up over a new deal, also sullied his reputation with their fans.
When today's announcement was made I got in touch with one of my former colleagues, a huge Swansea fan.
His words were: "Dai Penney was a huge Swans hero, captain under Molby playing great football. Real leader in good side."
Real leader.
A person who demands respect.
Someone who knows his own mind and has gravitas and authority.
In other words, just the kind of person Bristol Rovers need now to rally the troops, get his message across and plot our way out of this League One bunker we've dug for ourselves.
I hope everyone will be right behind him.
I have already been impressed with his first press conference.
He says he likes attacking football, which is perhaps an easy soundbyte, but if he learnt anything from Molby that will certainly stand him in good stead. That Swansea side WERE good and they haven't veered from the blueprint since then.
He also says he has identified targets in the transfer market, and if anything needs to happen with the transfer window already wide open, it is that we need some fresh blood to liven the place up.
But the most impressive thing of the lot was when he was asked if he would be in charge for the Walsall game.
It would have been so easy to say he was leaving it to Darren Patterson, as the caretaker boss had been taking training and developing a game plan for tomorrow. In that way he could have escaped any recriminations or blame if the result had gone against us, heaping the burden onto his predecessor's shoulders.
But he didn't. He simply answered yes.
It indicates a man who is ready to front up, stand and fall by his own decisions and back his judgment to the hilt.
I don't care what Oldham fans say about him. He was sacked by the club after the supporters turned against him.
All that means is he is a little bit older and wiser now, just as Trolls will be when he takes up his next managerial appointment.
I wish him all the best.

Rising from the Ashes (part two)

ONE foot through the office door and the resident Janner is on me like a flash. "Well, well . . . 2-0 up and you finish 3-2 down. Tsk, tsk."
Nothing can spoil my mood today, though. We gave the Aussies I right shellacking in the final Test of the Ashes series in Sydney and completed an emphatic 3-1 victory. All three victories came by an innings, a manner of defeat never experienced by our friends down under.
Four years ago I could never have imagined such a turn around. Leaving the Sydney Cricket Ground after two months following England's cricket team in all five tests, I had experienced the first-ever Ashes whitewash. Australia 5 England 0.
Come to think of it, it seems to be the kind of score I expect my beloved Gas to be on the receiving end of every time they play these days . . .
Still, if there is a lesson here it is that sport changes, the pendulum swings and from the lowest of lows you can somehow recover to experience unbelievable highs.
This is the nature of sport, why we love it so much.
In a very small way I experienced those same kind of feelings - complete elation to total despair - in 90 minutes at the Mem on Tuesday night.
Trucking up to the ground, even my mate Haydn, the eternal optimist, wasn't feeling confident. "I think we might lose tonight," he said.
Words I have rarely, if ever, heard him mutter.
Anyway, we took up a new position in the South Stand for this one, having failed to get entry into the family enclosure, which has somehow changed its rules and will only admit one adult, one child these days.
Neither of us expected anything from the game. Plymouth may have been struggling, but they still have pedigree as a Championship side last season. We are managerless, potless and shockingly low on confidence. Or so I thought.
Caretaker manager Darren Patterson's first decision was to shake things up a bit. He brought in youngster Eliot Richards to play instead of the more experienced but struggling Joe Kuffour up front.
And with Danny Coles injured he moved left back Gary Sawyer into his place, rather than elevate loan signing James Tunnicliffe to the starting line up. An interesting bit of tinkering.
Within 10 minutes we couldn't believe what was happening. Plymouth seemed to have turned up without a defence, and our leading scorer Will Hoskins had helped himself to two goals.
Wow - this was unchartered territory for Rovers this season.
Perhaps Patterson WAS the miracle worker we needed.
For the rest of the half we maintained our tempo, tackled like demons and looked capable of stretching our lead.
But as a Gashead, you know there is a nasty shock just around the corner.
The thing that came along to upset our applecart was the half-time whistle. We didn't need it.
And I don't know what happened in the home dressing room during the break but whatever motivational powers our caretaker used we certainly got a new Bristol Rovers after the break.
Timid, back tracking, fearful, incompetent . . .
If not a different team, it was certainly a fresh approach.
We handed back the initiative to a Plymouth Argyle side whose defence seemed to be operating an open-door policy before the break.
And they took it.
It was 2-1, then 2-2 and finally 3-2 as the Gas dispersed in front of our astonished eyes.
Astonished? Well, maybe not. This is Bristol Rovers, after all.
At the end the feeling was one of utter dejection, bottomless pain.
Three points adrift in the relegation zone and seemingly no fight and no hope.
Hopeless, in short.
Mighty West Country Warriors 2, Team made famous by a car insurance Advert 3.
If anything was going to prompt the board to say "enough" and go out and appoint a full-time manager, this was it.
Only it wasn't.
We're still waiting with an absolutely crucial game against fellow managerless strugglers Walsall next Tuesday.
Can't help thinking we've missed a trick here.
Still, even if my team's hopes are crumbling to dust, at least I've got the Ashes.

Fantasy managers

AS the crisis grows at my beloved Gas and we start looking like we are more and more embroiled in a relegation dogfight, all the talk is who the next lucky manager to step through the Memorial Gates will be.
I'm sure every fan at every club in the football league, and beyond, have played this game before. You look around the country, establish who is out of work or may be looking to move on, and then put them forward as the person of your choice.
It may be a worrying time for a fan, but it is also pretty exciting. At the moment, for instance, there are well-respected managers like Sam Allardyce, Steve Coppell, George Burley and Phil Brown out of jobs. And each one, at some stage, has been linked with the post by someone.
Meanwhile, we are approaching our second game with caretaker manager Darren Patterson in charge. After our performance in his first game, it sounds like he would be more suited to the job if you removed the word manager from that title.
Give Patto the keys, he can sweep around the changing rooms and then when he's done it will be his job to lock up.
Franchise team from a new town with no tradition and no atmosphere 2,
West country club steeped in history 0.
Patto made all the right sounds - "I believe in attacking football, as long as we score more goals than them etc etc" - only for it to blow up in his face.
He picked what appeared to be an attacking formation which was all well and good, apart from the fact we never got the chance to attack.
From every eye witness account I have read it was an absolutely pitiful performance which could have left us on the end of another six goal thrashing if MK Dons hadn't left their shooting boots at home and our on loan goalkeeper Mikkel Anderson hadn't played out of his skin.
It's desperate times.
We need a new boss, fast.
And we need someone to come in from outside the club, who can give an honest assessment of our plight and then show a clear vision of how to progress.
Reading the message boards, though, and I'm starting to think we might as well appoint Anne Robinson to the interview panel.
Why? Well, as the results came in, each manager who had been linked to the Rovers job was assessed on his team's performance that day.
Paul Tisdale at Exeter? His lot lost 4-0 at Southampton.
"Sorry, Paul, you are the weakest link - goodbye."
Torquay's Paul Buckle? His side only drew 1-1 with bottom of League 2 Hereford.
"Sorry, other Paul, you are the weakest link - goodbye."
And so it went on. Dean Holdsworth at Newport? His side lost 2-1 at home to Bath City.
John Ward at Colchester? Nah, couldn't beat 10-man Charlton.
Each manager was dismissed by someone as soon as their fallibility was highlighted.
In fact, it came to the point where people seemed to be saying: "God, none of these blokes are any better than good old Paul Trollope."
Is he still on "gardening" leave? Perhaps he should put away the lawn mower and come back. Sorry, Trolls, no hard feelings, all is forgiven.
Joking aside, appointing a manager should be a scientific process, not done on the whims of people who can look no further than Saturday's results check.
Otherwise the board might as well just throw it open to public vote. A phone in or, to move with the times, a text vote. "If you think Paul Tisdale should be manager text Tisdale to 0845........" It might even earn the club some money from the phone lines.
Perhaps Dermot O'Leary could announce the winner, too, and Simon Cowell could give him a hug.
Alternatively, how about this. The board write down a job specification, rule out anyone who clearly doesn't meet the minimum requirements, write down questions to ask at interview for those who make the short list. Then decide who best meets the criteria by judging them against the answers they give.
It's not rocket science. I've done it plenty of times and am pleased to say it works. Only on one occasion out of over 20 interviews, as I recall, did I end up with someone who didn't quite measure up to the task.
Meanwhile, tomorrow we go into a tough home game against our financially challenged west country rivals Plymouth and at last I can actually THANK the snow.
It is the first of many a midweek re-arranged home game, which means rather than monitoring the scores from my work station up in the smoke I can actually go along and lend my support first hand.
Let's face it . . . it's beginning to look like we need as much extra help as we can get.