THE jokes were flying thick and fast in the Sunday newspaper newsroom where I work.
And I didn't mind one jot.
We had won a game after a miserable run of five straight losses, most of them by rather large margins.
Pride of the West Country 1, Birthplace of the first chip shop 0
Hallelujah, we were off the bottom of the league.
"Who got the goal then Rippers?" one of my colleagues inquired, only slightly disappointed that we had kept a clean sheet and deprived him of the chance to win one of his many bets.
"Rene Howe," I informed him.
"What? You can't have a footballer called Rene!" he exclaimed.
"Is it Rene, like that bloke who used to be in Allo, Allo?" another chimed in.
Now, for my younger reader, I had better explain.
Rene was the barman in a late 70s, early 80s sitcom called Allo Allo.
He gave shelter to English airmen shot down over France during the second World War.
"Leesen very carefully, I will score this only once," declared another comedian, in a parody of one of the characters from this rather dated TV show.
No matter, I couldn't have been happier.
It had been a completely nerve-wracking afternoon. I had one eye on the Sky Football Special afternoon programme, and another monitoring our progress on the drip-feed running commentary from BBC Sport, which tells you things like Will Hoskins crosses the ball and it is cleared. Byron Anthony gives away a free kick.
Hardly painting a picture, but when you can't be at the Mem you take what you can get.
At one stage I recall our visitors had managed five shots on target and we had none. They had 69 per cent of the possession and we had only 31 per cent.
But the longer our pourous defence went without conceding a goal, the more confident I became.
And when it flashed up on the screen that Rene had hit the target I jumped out of my seat and punched the air, provoking many a strange look from my colleagues.
"Roooovvvvers!" chimed in an enthusiastic Jonesy.
Admittedly one win just carries us ahead of Dagenham, who have three games in hand of us. But it does put us just three points (well, four when goal difference is taken into consideration) away from the magical safety mark.
From what I can gather two of our latest recruits, loanee goalkeeper Conrad Logan from Leicester and fullback Danny Senda, fighting back from horrendous injury problems, both performed commendably for the mighty Gas.
And suddenly everything in the garden looks a darn sight rosier.
When the final whistle blew I prized my crossed fingers apart and felt like doing a little jig of joy - but had to temper my enthusiasm because there was still plenty of work to be done.
Forget Chelsea being knocked out of the FA Cup by Everton and Manchester United squeezing past non-league Crawley Town 1-0 - to me it was the shock of the afternoon.
And I've been unable to take the smile off my face all weekend.
Well done Dave Penney, well done board of directors for allowing him to bolster the squad, and well done the players.
At last we are showing some fight to get us out of the hole which we have dug for ourselves.
And I have a whole week to wallow in this overwhelming feeling of relief, until Saturday when we go on our travels to Brentford.
There's still a long way to go, but there is life in the old dog yet.
Monday 21 February 2011
Friday 18 February 2011
Fight club
WE'RE now six points and a hell of a lot of goals from safety and Tuesday's postponement of the game against Bournemouth didn't help.
While most of our rivals were picking up points, we were watching the rain turn our pitch into a boating lake.
Mind you, rather than give up the ghost, the gasheads are coming out fighting.
A good sign, surely.
Well... it would be if we knew WHO we were fighting.
But some of us are fighting the board of directors, some are fighting the new manager, some are fighting the players and a lot are fighting each other.
I guess this is the typical reaction of fans who never in their wildest dreams expected at the end of February to be rock bottom of League One, on a run of five consecutive defeats and shipping an average of just under four goals a game.
It hasn't helped that some scurrilous mischief makers have been spreading rumours about the club's liquidity - or lack of it.
This week the chairman Nick Higgs had to come out and say there was no truth to rumours we were poised for administration, even though the only suggestion that MIGHT be the case came from social networking sources which, to be quite honest, can suggest anything they damn well please without fear of censure or need of proof.
It has been mooted that renegade fans of our naughty neighbours from south Bristol may have had a hand in starting up these chinese whispers, which were spreading like wildfire thanks to the message boards of our internet forums.
Mind you this, too, is unproven and it may be just a case of people putting two and two together to make £5m.
Anyway, back to the fighting.
Recent results have bought about a facebook group promoting a Black and Gold campaign. As far as I can gather, this is a protest against Mr Higgs and his boardroom brethren, pleading with them to come out and paint a true picture of where we are as regards finances and mothballed plans to build a shiny new stadium.
The group is imploring fans to buy black and gold scarves and wear them on the terraces - the colours symbolising the original kit of the Black Arabs, our original name from our inception in the late 19th century.
As very few people are standing on those forementioned terraces these rebels shouldn't be hard to spot.
Others are questioning the wisdom of this campaign at such a perilous time, and I must admit I am one.
For it seems to me the board have been more proactive in the last month than they have been in the last 40-odd years of my time as a Gashead.
When they decided Paul Trollope's time in charge had run its course they removed him from his post.
They then appointed an experienced, seasoned replacement in Dave Penney and gave him the go-ahead to take on an assistant - even though still paying Trollope on gardening leave and keeping HIS assistant in place.
Having done that, they allowed the new man to dip into the transfer market and increase our squad by eight players, only today adding defender Danny Senda and goalkeeper Conrad Logan to the ranks.
Now if this board is struggling then they certainly intend to go out with a bang.
Because normally when a club hits the buffers the first thing you hear is of players not being paid - not the troubled club ADDING to the wage bill.
Of course, for a variety of reasons Penney's early results haven't been quite what was hoped, and the manager admits it is the toughest job he has taken on in football.
And this has brought the pro-Trollope brigade back, pointing out: "We finished in mid-table under Trolls", "Even his results weren't THIS bad".
The anti-Trolls group are countering. "The players he bought in are the reason we are in the deep doodoo in the first place," they argue.
On top of all this the chairman has publicly blamed the players for not delivering the performances expected of them.
Phew!
So we've got an anti-board element.
An Anti-Trollope group.
An Anti-Penney alliance.
An Anti-player faction.
Some fans will be wearing Black and Gold scarves.
Others will stick with blue and white.
My God, the middle east thinks it's got problems.
It reminds me of that moment in Monty Python's Life of Brian when protesters are sitting around talking about the differences between the People's Front of Judea, the Judean Popular People's Front and the Front of Popular Judean People (sic).
Of course, what we SHOULD be doing is fighting the same corner.
And cheering on the Blue and White Army, whether it is to seemingly inevitable relegation or to one of the greatest comebacks since Ali beat Foreman after spending six rounds on the ropes.
For a bloke who acknowledges he is an eternal pessimist, I'm keeping the faith.
While most of our rivals were picking up points, we were watching the rain turn our pitch into a boating lake.
Mind you, rather than give up the ghost, the gasheads are coming out fighting.
A good sign, surely.
Well... it would be if we knew WHO we were fighting.
But some of us are fighting the board of directors, some are fighting the new manager, some are fighting the players and a lot are fighting each other.
I guess this is the typical reaction of fans who never in their wildest dreams expected at the end of February to be rock bottom of League One, on a run of five consecutive defeats and shipping an average of just under four goals a game.
It hasn't helped that some scurrilous mischief makers have been spreading rumours about the club's liquidity - or lack of it.
This week the chairman Nick Higgs had to come out and say there was no truth to rumours we were poised for administration, even though the only suggestion that MIGHT be the case came from social networking sources which, to be quite honest, can suggest anything they damn well please without fear of censure or need of proof.
It has been mooted that renegade fans of our naughty neighbours from south Bristol may have had a hand in starting up these chinese whispers, which were spreading like wildfire thanks to the message boards of our internet forums.
Mind you this, too, is unproven and it may be just a case of people putting two and two together to make £5m.
Anyway, back to the fighting.
Recent results have bought about a facebook group promoting a Black and Gold campaign. As far as I can gather, this is a protest against Mr Higgs and his boardroom brethren, pleading with them to come out and paint a true picture of where we are as regards finances and mothballed plans to build a shiny new stadium.
The group is imploring fans to buy black and gold scarves and wear them on the terraces - the colours symbolising the original kit of the Black Arabs, our original name from our inception in the late 19th century.
As very few people are standing on those forementioned terraces these rebels shouldn't be hard to spot.
Others are questioning the wisdom of this campaign at such a perilous time, and I must admit I am one.
For it seems to me the board have been more proactive in the last month than they have been in the last 40-odd years of my time as a Gashead.
When they decided Paul Trollope's time in charge had run its course they removed him from his post.
They then appointed an experienced, seasoned replacement in Dave Penney and gave him the go-ahead to take on an assistant - even though still paying Trollope on gardening leave and keeping HIS assistant in place.
Having done that, they allowed the new man to dip into the transfer market and increase our squad by eight players, only today adding defender Danny Senda and goalkeeper Conrad Logan to the ranks.
Now if this board is struggling then they certainly intend to go out with a bang.
Because normally when a club hits the buffers the first thing you hear is of players not being paid - not the troubled club ADDING to the wage bill.
Of course, for a variety of reasons Penney's early results haven't been quite what was hoped, and the manager admits it is the toughest job he has taken on in football.
And this has brought the pro-Trollope brigade back, pointing out: "We finished in mid-table under Trolls", "Even his results weren't THIS bad".
The anti-Trolls group are countering. "The players he bought in are the reason we are in the deep doodoo in the first place," they argue.
On top of all this the chairman has publicly blamed the players for not delivering the performances expected of them.
Phew!
So we've got an anti-board element.
An Anti-Trollope group.
An Anti-Penney alliance.
An Anti-player faction.
Some fans will be wearing Black and Gold scarves.
Others will stick with blue and white.
My God, the middle east thinks it's got problems.
It reminds me of that moment in Monty Python's Life of Brian when protesters are sitting around talking about the differences between the People's Front of Judea, the Judean Popular People's Front and the Front of Popular Judean People (sic).
Of course, what we SHOULD be doing is fighting the same corner.
And cheering on the Blue and White Army, whether it is to seemingly inevitable relegation or to one of the greatest comebacks since Ali beat Foreman after spending six rounds on the ropes.
For a bloke who acknowledges he is an eternal pessimist, I'm keeping the faith.
Tuesday 15 February 2011
Rock bottom
THIS season has been like a rollercoaster for a gashead.
Unfortunately there have been a lot more long dips than extended highs.
It began with optimism, tinged with a nagging feeling of pessimism, then depression, then a modicum of confidence brought by a couple of scrappy home wins, then elation (the 1-0 win at Huddersfield with the last kick of the game), then worry, then a little bit of anticipation (Trollope's departure, Penney's appointment and some loan signings), followed closely by utter despair.
And finally we end up here. Grudging acceptance.
My beloved Rovers are bottom of the pile.
They have been conceding goals as often as a Kate Price marriage rumour hits the front page of the tabloids.
Goal difference reads more like the weather forecast for Siberia (-29 and rising).
And every morning I wake up it's like I've got the worst of hangovers, but without the alcohol-inducing buzz that preceded it.
This is Bristol Rovers, my team, my club, the Gas. Bottom of the s*dding league as we watch the mighty powerhouses of Rochdale, Orient, Tranmere, Brentford and Exeter putting more and more distance between them and us.
What on earth has happened?
Well, there's more than one reason for our dramatic fall from middle-of-the-road mediocrity.
In truth, you can trace it back to the moment Southampton came in and offered us a small fortune for our powerhouse centre forward Ricky Lambert.
Money in the coffers, but where was his replacement?
We tried to muddle through, bringing in all sorts of temporary fixes with various degrees of success.
There was Chris Dickson, who started with a bang then petered out like a British sprinter in an Olympic final, Paul Heffernan, who was like manna from heaven till the gods of Doncaster decided to call him back to their fold, John Akinde, who had the aerial ability and presence of Bambi on ice, and finally Rene How, a bulldozer out of control.
Then there was the Trollope-inspired decision to get rid of the more experienced members of our squad and look for relatively young players who had the "desire" to rebuild their careers with us, somehow forgetting that their inconsistent pasts might come back to haunt them if things went wrong.
He also produced the now-ill conceived mantra that we would go for "quality over quantity", failing to realise that when the bad weather hit and the fixtures piled up we would struggle to put 11 players on the pitch.
Picking players of the "right age" is fine if things are going well, but when results take a turn for the worse how many of these players have experienced the bad times and come out the other side?
How many of them know what to do when the going gets really tough?
To be fair to Dave Penney, he has tried to address that by bringing in some more travel-worn pros, but when the rot has set in and the team are playing two games a week injuries and suspensions are bound to take their toll.
Still, older members of the Gas clan can, I'm sure, remember similar low points in our history.
At one stage we were pretty close to dropping out of the Football League altogether, as I recall.
But I look back even further.
I remember during my youth, when Terry Cooper was the man at the helm, that we were propping up Division Two (the Championship as it is now) and I was still going to every game with very little expectation or hope.
I turned up with three mates to get the coach to Burnley, only to find that the coach had been cancelled due to lack of interest.
Rather than turn for home, another lost soul suggested that we climb into his Ford Cortina and drive to Turf Moor.
The Gas away support that day amounted to six of us. We had very little chance of a result, survival was no longer an option, and all we could do was show our support in the best way we could.
All match we sang our hearts out and, to be fair, after trying to lynch us midway through the second half, the home contingent actually developed some respect for us on the basis that they realised our plight and acknowledged our unswerving loyalty to a lost cause.
A group of them walked us back to the car to protect us from Burnley nutcases intent on doing us harm.
And waved us off on the long journey home.
Just outside Cheltenham the Cortina gave up the ghost.
The prop shaft went and we were towed off to a garage in deepest Gloucestershire.
We then had to share a couple of taxis back, costing us £7 each which, in those days, was a pretty penny and more than we had paid for petrol or our entry fee at the game.
Arriving back at 1am in the morning a bedraggled crew, our only consolation was we had proved our loyalty to the cause. And, against the odds, the Gas had managed a draw.
At times, things seem like they can't get worse.
But all you can do as a supporter is give your support, keep your chin up, rely on the famous Gas gallows "sense of humour" and hope that however much your hurting at the time, things will some day feel better.
The good times may seem an age away - the Millennium Stadium, Wembley, the quarter-finals of the FA Cup - but the game is all about ups and downs.
And I'll go on hoping that in this strange world of lower league football, the Gas will rise again.
Bournemouth tonight.
Second in the league.
What better time to start turning the tide.
I really hope, come tomorrow morning, I don't have that awful hangover again.
Unfortunately there have been a lot more long dips than extended highs.
It began with optimism, tinged with a nagging feeling of pessimism, then depression, then a modicum of confidence brought by a couple of scrappy home wins, then elation (the 1-0 win at Huddersfield with the last kick of the game), then worry, then a little bit of anticipation (Trollope's departure, Penney's appointment and some loan signings), followed closely by utter despair.
And finally we end up here. Grudging acceptance.
My beloved Rovers are bottom of the pile.
They have been conceding goals as often as a Kate Price marriage rumour hits the front page of the tabloids.
Goal difference reads more like the weather forecast for Siberia (-29 and rising).
And every morning I wake up it's like I've got the worst of hangovers, but without the alcohol-inducing buzz that preceded it.
This is Bristol Rovers, my team, my club, the Gas. Bottom of the s*dding league as we watch the mighty powerhouses of Rochdale, Orient, Tranmere, Brentford and Exeter putting more and more distance between them and us.
What on earth has happened?
Well, there's more than one reason for our dramatic fall from middle-of-the-road mediocrity.
In truth, you can trace it back to the moment Southampton came in and offered us a small fortune for our powerhouse centre forward Ricky Lambert.
Money in the coffers, but where was his replacement?
We tried to muddle through, bringing in all sorts of temporary fixes with various degrees of success.
There was Chris Dickson, who started with a bang then petered out like a British sprinter in an Olympic final, Paul Heffernan, who was like manna from heaven till the gods of Doncaster decided to call him back to their fold, John Akinde, who had the aerial ability and presence of Bambi on ice, and finally Rene How, a bulldozer out of control.
Then there was the Trollope-inspired decision to get rid of the more experienced members of our squad and look for relatively young players who had the "desire" to rebuild their careers with us, somehow forgetting that their inconsistent pasts might come back to haunt them if things went wrong.
He also produced the now-ill conceived mantra that we would go for "quality over quantity", failing to realise that when the bad weather hit and the fixtures piled up we would struggle to put 11 players on the pitch.
Picking players of the "right age" is fine if things are going well, but when results take a turn for the worse how many of these players have experienced the bad times and come out the other side?
How many of them know what to do when the going gets really tough?
To be fair to Dave Penney, he has tried to address that by bringing in some more travel-worn pros, but when the rot has set in and the team are playing two games a week injuries and suspensions are bound to take their toll.
Still, older members of the Gas clan can, I'm sure, remember similar low points in our history.
At one stage we were pretty close to dropping out of the Football League altogether, as I recall.
But I look back even further.
I remember during my youth, when Terry Cooper was the man at the helm, that we were propping up Division Two (the Championship as it is now) and I was still going to every game with very little expectation or hope.
I turned up with three mates to get the coach to Burnley, only to find that the coach had been cancelled due to lack of interest.
Rather than turn for home, another lost soul suggested that we climb into his Ford Cortina and drive to Turf Moor.
The Gas away support that day amounted to six of us. We had very little chance of a result, survival was no longer an option, and all we could do was show our support in the best way we could.
All match we sang our hearts out and, to be fair, after trying to lynch us midway through the second half, the home contingent actually developed some respect for us on the basis that they realised our plight and acknowledged our unswerving loyalty to a lost cause.
A group of them walked us back to the car to protect us from Burnley nutcases intent on doing us harm.
And waved us off on the long journey home.
Just outside Cheltenham the Cortina gave up the ghost.
The prop shaft went and we were towed off to a garage in deepest Gloucestershire.
We then had to share a couple of taxis back, costing us £7 each which, in those days, was a pretty penny and more than we had paid for petrol or our entry fee at the game.
Arriving back at 1am in the morning a bedraggled crew, our only consolation was we had proved our loyalty to the cause. And, against the odds, the Gas had managed a draw.
At times, things seem like they can't get worse.
But all you can do as a supporter is give your support, keep your chin up, rely on the famous Gas gallows "sense of humour" and hope that however much your hurting at the time, things will some day feel better.
The good times may seem an age away - the Millennium Stadium, Wembley, the quarter-finals of the FA Cup - but the game is all about ups and downs.
And I'll go on hoping that in this strange world of lower league football, the Gas will rise again.
Bournemouth tonight.
Second in the league.
What better time to start turning the tide.
I really hope, come tomorrow morning, I don't have that awful hangover again.
Friday 11 February 2011
The land of hope
I'VE gone through the pain barrier.
I've moaned about all there is to moan about. The manager, the players, the board, the refs, the opposition, the luck...
But the manager has been changed, we've brought new players in, the board have acted quickly, and there is nothing we can do to affect the other things.
After the awful low of Tuesday's 3-1 defeat at Rochdale I can't go through any more.
It's down to fate now, and keeping the faith.
I find it particularly strange, though, that while, as a Gashead, all about me is crumbling, the club's 'official' website seems oblivious to it all.
Looking on their news board for some sign of hope to cling to, I am confronted with such strange messages that I feel I may have entered an alternative universe.
"Put your logo on our shirt," it implores companies, as if being associated with Bristol Rovers these days is the passport to fame and fortune.
"February Fun Days!" it declares, as if we Gasheads are going to be frollocking around with big smiles on our faces, feeling we've never had it so good.
And, finally, the best of the best ... "Treat your partner to a Rovers gift for Valentine's Day". That, I imagine, is if you want to kill the relationship off for good. No need to send a text or facebook message declaring "You're dumped", just buy the love of your life a Rovers mug and see it come flying back in your direction at a rate of knots.
Don't get me wrong.
I know it is all about marketing and it is vitally important to the club.
But these upbeat messages are portrayed as "breaking news", which is taking it a bit too far when all I want to know is how we are addressing the myriad of problems hurtling in our direction.
Perhaps the Mrs will buy me a Rovers hard hat for Valentine's Day, now there's a thought...
I somehow feel to blame for our demise at Rochdale.
I'm not generally the superstitious type but when it comes to my football team I'll try any half-baked theory to pull us away from the impending black hole of relegation.
On Tuesday night I decided the best thing to do, for my own sanity as much as anything, was to sit down and watch a DVD and try to take my mind off the things going on at Spotland.
I'd listened to the first 20 minutes on Radio Brizzle and it was a case of "So far, so good". Still 0-0 and, by all accounts, playing quite well.
So I joined the wife in the front room and watched an episode of Downton Abbey, working out that by the end of it I could return to the radio and discover the outcome.
When the programme finished I returned to the kitchen to hear that Rovers were pressing, they'd won a corner and it sounded like they were still in the game - maybe trying to grab a last-gasp winner.
Next thing I know the ball is up the other end there's a cross, a goal, a lot of Rovers players complaining, but it stands. It's 2-1 Rochdale.
To rub salt in the wounds I learn our young loanee centre back Cian Bolger has been sent off for two bookable offences. Oh my lord.
Moments later we are back up the other end, but not for long. Another breakaway, an air shot by our outrushing goalkeeper Luke Daniels and it's 3-1.
On the face of it another heavy defeat. But it sounds like we played well.
Still, that's four defeats in a row and a hell of a lot of goals shipped. We're second from bottom of League One and things are looking desperate. And I'm thinking: If only I had gone to the kitchen five minutes later, caught the final score... it might have finished 1-1.
Oh, and there has just been another announcement from that strange planet inhabited by our website organisers.
This one is from the bookies. It declares - as if this is a chance NOT to be missed - "14-1 with Corals for Rovers to beat the O's 1-0".
Right.
We are away to Orient, who are going quite nicely, thank you, and beat Swindon 3-0 on Tuesday.
We have lost our most experienced centre back through injury and impressive youngster Bolger through suspension.
We have been shipping goals at an alarming rate and the suggestion we will keep a clean sheet is laughable.
Oh, what the hell . . . our best chance of avoiding the drop is to join this new alternative world. Now what's that bookies' number?
I've moaned about all there is to moan about. The manager, the players, the board, the refs, the opposition, the luck...
But the manager has been changed, we've brought new players in, the board have acted quickly, and there is nothing we can do to affect the other things.
After the awful low of Tuesday's 3-1 defeat at Rochdale I can't go through any more.
It's down to fate now, and keeping the faith.
I find it particularly strange, though, that while, as a Gashead, all about me is crumbling, the club's 'official' website seems oblivious to it all.
Looking on their news board for some sign of hope to cling to, I am confronted with such strange messages that I feel I may have entered an alternative universe.
"Put your logo on our shirt," it implores companies, as if being associated with Bristol Rovers these days is the passport to fame and fortune.
"February Fun Days!" it declares, as if we Gasheads are going to be frollocking around with big smiles on our faces, feeling we've never had it so good.
And, finally, the best of the best ... "Treat your partner to a Rovers gift for Valentine's Day". That, I imagine, is if you want to kill the relationship off for good. No need to send a text or facebook message declaring "You're dumped", just buy the love of your life a Rovers mug and see it come flying back in your direction at a rate of knots.
Don't get me wrong.
I know it is all about marketing and it is vitally important to the club.
But these upbeat messages are portrayed as "breaking news", which is taking it a bit too far when all I want to know is how we are addressing the myriad of problems hurtling in our direction.
Perhaps the Mrs will buy me a Rovers hard hat for Valentine's Day, now there's a thought...
I somehow feel to blame for our demise at Rochdale.
I'm not generally the superstitious type but when it comes to my football team I'll try any half-baked theory to pull us away from the impending black hole of relegation.
On Tuesday night I decided the best thing to do, for my own sanity as much as anything, was to sit down and watch a DVD and try to take my mind off the things going on at Spotland.
I'd listened to the first 20 minutes on Radio Brizzle and it was a case of "So far, so good". Still 0-0 and, by all accounts, playing quite well.
So I joined the wife in the front room and watched an episode of Downton Abbey, working out that by the end of it I could return to the radio and discover the outcome.
When the programme finished I returned to the kitchen to hear that Rovers were pressing, they'd won a corner and it sounded like they were still in the game - maybe trying to grab a last-gasp winner.
Next thing I know the ball is up the other end there's a cross, a goal, a lot of Rovers players complaining, but it stands. It's 2-1 Rochdale.
To rub salt in the wounds I learn our young loanee centre back Cian Bolger has been sent off for two bookable offences. Oh my lord.
Moments later we are back up the other end, but not for long. Another breakaway, an air shot by our outrushing goalkeeper Luke Daniels and it's 3-1.
On the face of it another heavy defeat. But it sounds like we played well.
Still, that's four defeats in a row and a hell of a lot of goals shipped. We're second from bottom of League One and things are looking desperate. And I'm thinking: If only I had gone to the kitchen five minutes later, caught the final score... it might have finished 1-1.
Oh, and there has just been another announcement from that strange planet inhabited by our website organisers.
This one is from the bookies. It declares - as if this is a chance NOT to be missed - "14-1 with Corals for Rovers to beat the O's 1-0".
Right.
We are away to Orient, who are going quite nicely, thank you, and beat Swindon 3-0 on Tuesday.
We have lost our most experienced centre back through injury and impressive youngster Bolger through suspension.
We have been shipping goals at an alarming rate and the suggestion we will keep a clean sheet is laughable.
Oh, what the hell . . . our best chance of avoiding the drop is to join this new alternative world. Now what's that bookies' number?
Tuesday 8 February 2011
Twittergate
THERE used to be a time when you relied on newspapers for all the inside information on your local club. Not now.
With the global rise of twitter you can find out more from about what's happening than by going out to buy your local Evening rag.
While the manager will trot out the same old familiar lines of "the spirit in the camp is still good", "the boys are fighting for everything" and the like in the Press, just a quick click of the mouse can tell you exactly how some of them are feeling.
For instance, while our current man in charge Dave Penney is likely to want to keep the make up of his team quiet from the opposition, our midfielder Chris Lines has already informed us that his toes are "black and blue" and he will be struggling to make tonight's crunch game at Rochdale.
Meanwhile, under-fire fullback Carl Regan, dropped from the team recently, has informed his many "followers" that he is suffering the worst spell of his entire career.
No amount of soundbytes from the boss man in the press is going to be able to gloss over the fact that Regan, for one, doesn't sound in "good spirits".
Even our star striker Will Hoskins admitted in a moment of tweet surrender "I'm not enjoying it any more."
No amount of spin doctors can cover up the sentiments behind those words.
Then you have fans forums on the websites. On these you can get any little bit of gossip you need.
A player is spotted out having a beer and his discretion is already noted by the faithful. He becomes known as the Champagne Charlie of the team and any below-par performance is put down to his late-night drinking exploits.
This is the big brother era, except big brother is the public and they are watching every step their heroes take.
At the same time the only stories you will get from your local media are the ones that have been approved by the club. Interviews have been recorded and put on its official website before they even reach the press. So they amount to positive spin press releases.
No wonder newspapers are dying.
Where are the Woodward and Bernsteins of the football world these days (for my younger reader these are the guys that uncovered the Watergate Scandal that led to the fall of US President Richard Nixon)?
Who is going to delve deep behind the scenes and establish the contacts so that we can find out what is really going on?
Rumours abound that my beloved Rovers are financially desperate. No change there then.
But where is the deep investigation, the thorough analysis of our real plight?
Nowhere to be seen. We are fed with a diet of "We must start winning games", "We are letting too many goals in", "There are still enough games left to survive".
Well, to use that time honoured phrase, "No sh*t, Sherlock!"
Already the natives are getting restless with the new manager. We expected the usual "bounce" you get when a new face takes over, instead we have slid down further into the relegation mire.
And Penney is already getting stick from fans as a "lightweight", who hasn't managed to enthuse the players with the spirit needed to survive.
Highly unfair, but this is the fast moving world we live in.
Ask any manager and they say it takes two years to get the side you want, playing the way you want.
Penney has been here just under a month. Results haven't been good, granted. But he inherited a team low on confidence and shipping goals for fun that were already on a steep decline.
He has brought in players during the transfer window to try to turn things around but luck has deserted him, too. The man he charged with pulling our defence together, Dave McCracken, is out for a month having suffered a hamstring injury against MK Dons.
In a low moment, after our 4-2 loss to league leaders Brighton at the weekend, he admitted the challenge was proving "tougher than I first thought".
Still, Rovers fans should be getting behind the new man and his backroom team. We are all in this together. It can only get worse if we hit rock bottom and, to be honest, that isn't far away.
I keep thinking of all the optimism that I felt at the start of the season and how it has drained away piece by piece.
But teams have got out of worst jams and it is time to keep the faith.
My mate, a Lincoln City fan, was moaning on Facebook three weeks ago that his side had hit the basement of League 2 and were destined to drop out of the league. Their new manager had made no impact.
Since then? Five wins out of five and comfortably in mid table.
We gasheads can only hope that the revival starts tonight at Rochdale.
With the global rise of twitter you can find out more from about what's happening than by going out to buy your local Evening rag.
While the manager will trot out the same old familiar lines of "the spirit in the camp is still good", "the boys are fighting for everything" and the like in the Press, just a quick click of the mouse can tell you exactly how some of them are feeling.
For instance, while our current man in charge Dave Penney is likely to want to keep the make up of his team quiet from the opposition, our midfielder Chris Lines has already informed us that his toes are "black and blue" and he will be struggling to make tonight's crunch game at Rochdale.
Meanwhile, under-fire fullback Carl Regan, dropped from the team recently, has informed his many "followers" that he is suffering the worst spell of his entire career.
No amount of soundbytes from the boss man in the press is going to be able to gloss over the fact that Regan, for one, doesn't sound in "good spirits".
Even our star striker Will Hoskins admitted in a moment of tweet surrender "I'm not enjoying it any more."
No amount of spin doctors can cover up the sentiments behind those words.
Then you have fans forums on the websites. On these you can get any little bit of gossip you need.
A player is spotted out having a beer and his discretion is already noted by the faithful. He becomes known as the Champagne Charlie of the team and any below-par performance is put down to his late-night drinking exploits.
This is the big brother era, except big brother is the public and they are watching every step their heroes take.
At the same time the only stories you will get from your local media are the ones that have been approved by the club. Interviews have been recorded and put on its official website before they even reach the press. So they amount to positive spin press releases.
No wonder newspapers are dying.
Where are the Woodward and Bernsteins of the football world these days (for my younger reader these are the guys that uncovered the Watergate Scandal that led to the fall of US President Richard Nixon)?
Who is going to delve deep behind the scenes and establish the contacts so that we can find out what is really going on?
Rumours abound that my beloved Rovers are financially desperate. No change there then.
But where is the deep investigation, the thorough analysis of our real plight?
Nowhere to be seen. We are fed with a diet of "We must start winning games", "We are letting too many goals in", "There are still enough games left to survive".
Well, to use that time honoured phrase, "No sh*t, Sherlock!"
Already the natives are getting restless with the new manager. We expected the usual "bounce" you get when a new face takes over, instead we have slid down further into the relegation mire.
And Penney is already getting stick from fans as a "lightweight", who hasn't managed to enthuse the players with the spirit needed to survive.
Highly unfair, but this is the fast moving world we live in.
Ask any manager and they say it takes two years to get the side you want, playing the way you want.
Penney has been here just under a month. Results haven't been good, granted. But he inherited a team low on confidence and shipping goals for fun that were already on a steep decline.
He has brought in players during the transfer window to try to turn things around but luck has deserted him, too. The man he charged with pulling our defence together, Dave McCracken, is out for a month having suffered a hamstring injury against MK Dons.
In a low moment, after our 4-2 loss to league leaders Brighton at the weekend, he admitted the challenge was proving "tougher than I first thought".
Still, Rovers fans should be getting behind the new man and his backroom team. We are all in this together. It can only get worse if we hit rock bottom and, to be honest, that isn't far away.
I keep thinking of all the optimism that I felt at the start of the season and how it has drained away piece by piece.
But teams have got out of worst jams and it is time to keep the faith.
My mate, a Lincoln City fan, was moaning on Facebook three weeks ago that his side had hit the basement of League 2 and were destined to drop out of the league. Their new manager had made no impact.
Since then? Five wins out of five and comfortably in mid table.
We gasheads can only hope that the revival starts tonight at Rochdale.
Friday 4 February 2011
Visit to the Blackthorn
ANOTHER midweek game, and another chance for me to shout on the boys in blue from the terraces. And for once I am full of optimism, with manager Dave Penney bringing in SIX new additions to help bolster our meagre ranks.
Just after transfer deadline we signed a creative midfield player in Gavin Williams from our hated neighbours across the city. He was able to join us because he had negotiated a release from his contract, giving himself a few months to prove himself in the Blue and White Quarters.
Even though I am feeling quite upbeat about things, I'm not going to take any chances. I haven't see the Gas win this season, and feel perhaps a change of venue might bring a change of luck.
Usually I stand with my pal Haydn in the family enclosure, on account of the fact his son is a goalkeeper in one of the youth teams and he manages to get in free when accompanied by the boy.
Unfortunately his son is training so there is just two of us going to the game and I venture: "Look, I've been in the family enclosure, the Das Enclosure and the South Stand so far this season. Why don't we stand on the Blackthorn and see if our luck changes."
So we take the plunge and go in with the hardcore supporters.
I haven't stood on 'our' end since those famous days of the old Tote End at Eastville Stadium. In those days I would always go in there to get bumped and buffeted for 90 minutes, join in the songs and get the occasional glimpse of the pitch on account of my diminutive stature.
I used to love it, though, going along with my school mates and revelling in the atmosphere of a vibrant crowd.
Well, it wasn't quite like that to be honest. We stood over on the right side of the terrace, where there was enough room to swing not just a cat but a whole cattery.
It was nice to chat to one of the loyal old boys on there who told us he had been watching Rovers ever since his dad had taken him to a home game against Reading in the 50s and they had won 2-1. "I've NEVER left a game early," he proudly announced, a feat in itself when I think of some of the pitiful showings down the years.
It's a pretty paltry crowd all round, 4,800 to see our new-look team in action. Even so, the fans are in good heart, practising some of their new songs and unfurling one of those giant flags that gets passed across the tops of peoples heads.
We lost the previous game 6-1 but there is still a buzz of optimism, particularly when the team is announced and we learn that five of our new signings have made the line up.
It lasts 45 seconds.
For after 45 seconds, MK Dons take advantage of the fact that our back four are still introducing themselves to each other and sneak a goal.
And worse is to follow when Dave McCracken, the centre back on loan from Brentford who has made a decent early impression, chases a ball back towards his own goal and pulls up with a hamstring injury.
Oh, dear.
Still, Rovers manage to regroup and are still in the game. They put on a fair bit of pressure early in the second half only to fall asleep at the back and concede a second.
It's not looking good.
But we then earn a fortuitous penalty for hand ball, Jeff Hughes puts the resulting spotkick away and then a Dons defender gets a red card.
It leads to a 10-minute cavalry charge at the end to try to get us back on level terms, but we are just short of the quality we need to turn the result around.
At least, we reflect as we drift away, there was more effort and a more resilient approach from the Gas this time. I'm just not sure if we have what it takes to get out of the mess we are in.
Pride of the West Country 1, Football club stolen from Wimbledon 2
No worries, though. Another home game coming up.
Against Brighton.
The league leaders.
Just after transfer deadline we signed a creative midfield player in Gavin Williams from our hated neighbours across the city. He was able to join us because he had negotiated a release from his contract, giving himself a few months to prove himself in the Blue and White Quarters.
Even though I am feeling quite upbeat about things, I'm not going to take any chances. I haven't see the Gas win this season, and feel perhaps a change of venue might bring a change of luck.
Usually I stand with my pal Haydn in the family enclosure, on account of the fact his son is a goalkeeper in one of the youth teams and he manages to get in free when accompanied by the boy.
Unfortunately his son is training so there is just two of us going to the game and I venture: "Look, I've been in the family enclosure, the Das Enclosure and the South Stand so far this season. Why don't we stand on the Blackthorn and see if our luck changes."
So we take the plunge and go in with the hardcore supporters.
I haven't stood on 'our' end since those famous days of the old Tote End at Eastville Stadium. In those days I would always go in there to get bumped and buffeted for 90 minutes, join in the songs and get the occasional glimpse of the pitch on account of my diminutive stature.
I used to love it, though, going along with my school mates and revelling in the atmosphere of a vibrant crowd.
Well, it wasn't quite like that to be honest. We stood over on the right side of the terrace, where there was enough room to swing not just a cat but a whole cattery.
It was nice to chat to one of the loyal old boys on there who told us he had been watching Rovers ever since his dad had taken him to a home game against Reading in the 50s and they had won 2-1. "I've NEVER left a game early," he proudly announced, a feat in itself when I think of some of the pitiful showings down the years.
It's a pretty paltry crowd all round, 4,800 to see our new-look team in action. Even so, the fans are in good heart, practising some of their new songs and unfurling one of those giant flags that gets passed across the tops of peoples heads.
We lost the previous game 6-1 but there is still a buzz of optimism, particularly when the team is announced and we learn that five of our new signings have made the line up.
It lasts 45 seconds.
For after 45 seconds, MK Dons take advantage of the fact that our back four are still introducing themselves to each other and sneak a goal.
And worse is to follow when Dave McCracken, the centre back on loan from Brentford who has made a decent early impression, chases a ball back towards his own goal and pulls up with a hamstring injury.
Oh, dear.
Still, Rovers manage to regroup and are still in the game. They put on a fair bit of pressure early in the second half only to fall asleep at the back and concede a second.
It's not looking good.
But we then earn a fortuitous penalty for hand ball, Jeff Hughes puts the resulting spotkick away and then a Dons defender gets a red card.
It leads to a 10-minute cavalry charge at the end to try to get us back on level terms, but we are just short of the quality we need to turn the result around.
At least, we reflect as we drift away, there was more effort and a more resilient approach from the Gas this time. I'm just not sure if we have what it takes to get out of the mess we are in.
Pride of the West Country 1, Football club stolen from Wimbledon 2
No worries, though. Another home game coming up.
Against Brighton.
The league leaders.
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