Thanks for the Mem

ALL the talk is about England against Ukraine.

Can we qualify? Will Rooney take us from also-rans to genuine contenders? And where will be the best place to watch the game to get into the spirit of Euro 2012, to really feel the buzz of this major football tournament?

I would have thought you would want to find a lively pub, with St George's Cross flags hanging from the rafters, Football's Coming Home booming out of the speakers, and ales flowing from a well-staffed bar.

Alternatively, operate an open-door policy at home, fill the fridge with cheap booze and invite the neighbours in to share the excitement in front of your new plasma widescreen tv.

But hang on.

There is an alternative venue.

Why not go to a delapidated football ground, in the middle of a built-up housing estate, hand over £5 of your hard-earned cash and sample the true atmosphere of the occasion.

You could pretend you are in a Ukraine slum-clearance area, twinned with Chernobyl and surrounded by poverty-stricken locals and stray dogs.

Welcome to the world of real football, people.

Welcome to the Memorial Stadium.

Don't get me wrong. I LOVE my football club. I never fail to promote its cause wherever I am in the world. 

I wore my quarters with pride on the Ashes tour of Australia, and have braved donning them in a Cardiff pub while watching the epic play-off semi-final against Lincoln five years ago.

But sometimes the powers-that-be do make me chuckle.

And the most recent promotion on the Gas website had me laughing out loud:

"Stuck for somewhere to watch England this evening?
"Support Bristol Rovers this summer and enjoy a great night out, by watching England's European Championship games at the Memorial Stadium.
"For just £5 you can watch the game and enjoy a pie and a pint, and soak up the great atmosphere in the Memorial Room bar.
"There will be large flatscreens as well as a number of TVs, and you can bring your own flags to decorate the place."
Oh, can I? Really? Thanks very much!
I shouldn't really take the mick. Anything that raises funds for our manager Mark McGhee and helps keep the creditors from banging on the door is welcome.
But I think maybe they could have put a bit more effort in... say by offering some Polish Kabanos sausages and a shot of Rekty, which is 95 percent alcohol and can really get you into the Eastern Europe mood (my pal drank some at a Polish wedding once and ended up on a saline drip!).
Perhaps pipe in some music from that part of the world, too, by the Ukrainian composer Sergei Prokofiev.
And how about decorating the bar with the flags of each nation or, at least,  provide a St George's flag to wave for everyone who turns up.
Still, knowing my fellow Gasheads, they will still give it a go.
In fact, I expect they will put a certain Premier League winning club to shame.
The Etihad Stadium, the luxurious venue that is home to Manchester City, attempted a similar thing last week.
They had giant screens and all manner of gimmicks to attract supporters to their own Euro 2012 big night out.
I saw the pictures. It looked great.
The only thing missing was people...

Pirates ahoy

WE'RE used to pirates at the Mem.
But it appears some of those ne'er-do-well's of the Somalian variety have turned up in north Bristol.
And, what's worse, they have taken one of our star players hostage.
At least, that's the only thing I can conclude from an item that appeared via the wonderful world of twitter.
This cry for help was posted by our wing magician Mustapha Carayol:
"Being held against your will is the worst thing in the world, particularly when promises are broken..."
I'm sure the Irish journalist Bryan Keenan, while handcuffed to a radiator in Lebanon for years, felt exactly the same way.
As did that poor couple who sailed into treacherous waters in the Indian Ocean during a world tour and were kidnapped by Somalis.
Others tell me different, though. They say that Muzzy is in a tizzy because Bristol Rovers have blocked his move to a Championship club.
Apparently, we don't want him to go unless the price is right for us.
What a bunch of meanies!
After all, it's not as if this hard-put-upon player signed a contract with us, tying him to the club for two years, is it?
Oh, hang on. He did, didn't he?
Mind you, these contracts aren't worth the paper they are written on once one of today's molly-coddled stars want to move on. All they have to do is throw their toys out of the pram, go on "strike" and they eventually get what they want.
Stranger, is the amount of sympathy shown to a player we rescued from non-league oblivion at Lincoln, where all his brilliant skills failed to keep them in the Football League.
Apparently, though, he only turned up there when he felt like it, and spent the rest of the time injured on the sidelines.
For us, he performed now and again, when he felt like it... and admittedly gave a couple of glimpses of his true ability in the later stages of the season.
Don't get me wrong: I am not doubting his ability. But there are no end of players with great skills who have ended up on football's scrapheap because of their attitude.
Rovers will sell Muzzy, probably sooner than later.
He will get his wish.
He may find out that his "dream" move isn't all it's cracked up to be as he languishes in the reserves at Derby... or Sheffield Wednesday... or Middlesbrough.
Some people have told him he will always be a Gashead, though, and that riles me.
To be a true son of the quarters he will have to put in more than half-a-dozen decent performances in a lower-League 2 side.
Like Harold Jarman, Stuart Taylor or, God love him, Ian Holloway did.
As for the comment he's being held against his will... the whole thing makes we weep.

Muzzy stay or Muzzy go

THE name Mustapha Carayol is on every Gasheads lips at the moment.
Muzzy as we affectionately call him.
Let's be honest, we football fans struggle over names with more than one syllable.
This 22-year-old wonder on the wing gave Rovers fans a bit to shout about towards the end of a season that, thankfully, petered out.
 I say thankfully because before the Buckle burst, we looked hell-bent on a flirt with non-league football.
Then, thanks to the common-sense coaching of Shaun North and the wide-eyed experience of new manager Mark McGhee, we pulled ourselves out of the nose-dive and to the safety of mid-table. During the closing stages Rovers fans even had the delights of celebrating a 7-1 win at home to Burton and a 5-1 conquest of Accrington Stanley. And Muzzy was well to the fore in those games, setting up plenty of chances with his intricate skills.
Now, apparently, Championship clubs are knocking at our door, trying to prize him away from us.
Despite some strong comments to the contrary, I don't think the magical Mr McGhee is too concerned really.
He built up Carayol massively from the time he stepped through the Memorial Gates, insisting he was key to our future and an indispensable member of the team.
He did this in public. In the press.
It helped build up Carayol's confidence after a far-from-impressive start in a Rovers shirt, turning him into a matchwinner.
And it helped expand his reputation throughout the Football League.
What was McGhee really thinking as he looked ahead to building a squad for next season?
Was he determined to hold on to Carayol, or trying to bump his price up for the inevitable transfer scramble which would come at the end of the season?
Let's be honest: We have a very shrewd man at the helm now. Someone who has masterminded a number of promotion campaigns in his years in the managerial game.
He knows that one or two brilliant individuals won't make you a team capable of challenging for promotion.
He also knows that for all his praising of the side towards the end of a disappointing campaign, they finished in the bottom half of the table and showed a weaknesses in character exploited by other teams regularly on their travels.
No sooner had they produced the big result against Accrington than they capitulated woefully at Dagenham and Redbridge.
Their top show against Burton was immediately wiped off by a poor display at Port Vale.
Consistency is the key to promotion, plus a team mentality hopefully supplemented by one or two individuals with a bit of star quality.
I think McGhee realised as soon as he saw the pace and skills of Muzzy that he was an asset who, sold wisely, could get him nearer the team he REALLY wants at Rovers.
His assertion he would like most of the players he had last season back for the next campaign was good management, because it kept confidence high at the time.
I'm not sure he really meant it, though, and I think it will be fascinating to see how he constructs a team for next season, with or without Carayol.

A word for the good Lord. Byron Anthony was the biggest name out of the door when McGhee announced his retained list.
Not always the most popular player, I could never fault Anthony for effort.
This is a man who took the field one weekend even after doctors advised him not to play.
He was a star in our promotion season and even at the start of our relegation campaign showed some impressive form.
 Unfortunately, I think some less committed people let the team down and Byron, for one, lost his form and confidence.
I suggested in an earlier entry that he might earn legendary status as a Gashead. It may not seem likely after our last two seasons, but in years to come I think people will recall him with affection and welcome him back if he finds another club with which to extend his career.
What Byron really needed was a leader alongside him, a Steve Elliot character. Well, Steve Elliot, to be honest.
Everything went downhill after we decided to let him go.

Stadium Fever

I'VE seen a sign of the future today - and it scares me a bit.
Bristol Rovers have unveiled plans for a 21,000-seater stadium just around the corner from where I live at the University for the West of England site.
Wow! It looks all-singing, all-dancing and there is no doubt it is something the club needs to move with the times.
But when I think of what it means to be a Gashead a small part of me fears that some of our identity will be stripped away.
For so long we have been football's nomads, moving from one rented ground to another before settling in at what, to be honest, is a down-at-heel rugby arena.
Through it all we've stood shoulder to shoulder on pretty dilapidated terraces, shouting on our team in the face of adversity.
It's the things that have gone wrong that have bound us together as Gasheads, always the poor relation compared with football's money-grabbing, soul-destroying headline grabbers.
I realise it is adapt or die.
But the Gashead spirit must go on.
And I think I've a couple of suggestions that would help.
A few years ago, working and living in London, I used to get along to White Hart Lane on the odd weekend off.
Not because I had any particular affinity to Spurs, it was mainly because it was the only ground for which I could get tickets at short notice.
I quickly noticed, though, how they quickly reminded fans of the club's history - thanks to a big TV screen which constantly played footage of action from their past to the refrain of Glory, Glory, Tottenham Hotspur.
Imagine a similar thing at the new UWE stadium. Before the players run out a looping piece of film portraying some of the great moments featuring the Gas: The crowds outside Eastville for that famous FA Cup tie against Newcastle in the 60s, the eight goals at Brighton, Paul Randall's two goals in the FA Cup win over Southampton in 78, the 2nd May 1990, Sammy Igoe's last minute charge against Shrewsbury at Wembley, the list is pretty endless.
You could play the footage with Goodnight Irene or Tote End boys playing in the background - reminding people that this is Bristol Rovers, this is what we are all about.
As has been mentioned before, we could also use poignant names for each part of the ground.
Wouldn't it be great to have the Tote End back, for starters.
Yes, let's move with the times.
But let's also remember the long, long road that got us there.

The Fat Boy sings

I WAS sorely tempted to make the trip to Sixfields on Tuesday.
Then I thought about it.
The last time I went there was when Bristol Rovers were playing their first-ever season in the bottom division.
It was a wet, cold, miserable night and we lost 3-0.
Driving to and from London every week for work, it seemed a bit beyond the call of duty to do that soul-destroying M4, M25, M1 trek, particularly as for some reason I didn't fancy us getting anything from the game.
Still, there was another option - the game was live on Radio Bristol.
Admittedly, I've had some pretty bad times listening to the Gas on there, too, but at least it has evened out. The last time I tuned in on a Tuesday night we won at Hereford 2-1; Even though from the commentary available I must admit I had no idea what was happening in the match.
Still, I was quite excited.. a feeling that lasted less than a minute.
For it was then that Adebayo Akinfenwa found himself clear in our penalty area to open the scoring.
For Goodness sake, the guy is built like a giant Marshmallow. How had he managed to outwit our younger, fitter central defensive pairing?
It was like our old managers Paul Buckle and Paul Trollope had never gone away, that familiar old sinking feeling in the pit of the stomach telling me that we are in for a regulation hiding.
Pretty strange, really, because our defensive record under new boss Mark McGhee had been pretty exemplary. We had just had three clean sheets in a row, and had only conceded three goals in our last seven games.
It got worse, though. After 20 minutes we had conceded three goals ... and Akinfenwa had scored two. It's not over til the Fat Lady sings? Well, the Fat Boy was in full cry.
I couldn't listen any more and turned the radio off with a mixture of anger and confusion.
How could this be happening?
I didn't give up completely though. I decided to turn on Sky Sports - it wouldn't hurt so much seeing the goals going in on there - you wouldn't hear the Cobblers fans celebrating.
Not only that but I could flick over regularly to monitor Arsenal's amazing attempt to overturn a 4-0 deficit to AC Milan in the Champions League. They were already 2-0 up.
As the evening wore on, though, a strange thing happened. Rovers didn't concede any more goals.
Over the last two seasons, conceding three goals in the first 20 minutes would have led to losing by a cricket score by the final whistle.
Instead, with 25 minutes left, midfielder Craig Stanley grabbed his first goal for the club. 3-1.
Arsenal meanwhile were 3-0 up ... if they could pull off the impossible then we could certainly come back against the team lying bottom of the entire football league.
86 minutes gone ... and it's 3-2. Lee Brown capitalises after Chris Zebroski is brought down in the penalty area to hammer home the spot kick.
And then comes an agonising eight minutes or so, until the final score flashes up. Northampton 3, Bristol Rovers 2.
A bad night. But not as bad as it could have been.
And at least we can be proud of a team that is prepared to put up a fight - not surrender meekly in the face of adversity.
Still, we can't afford to repeat that early lapse in our next game - at home to promotion-chasing Torquay on Saturday.

A-TAX, A-TAX, A-TAX A-TAX A-TAX

IN the manner of all good journalists I can't reveal my sources (and I hope Lord Leveson isn't watching former News of the World journalists too closely) but I happened to come across a transcript from a Football League boardroom this week.
It went something like this...
FINANCE DIRECTOR: I've no wish to pour gloom on proceedings gentlemen but I thought I had better bring something to your attention.
DIRECTOR NO. 2: Surely there can't be much to upset us old chap. I mean... we've bought in a number of really top players during the summer, have established a squad to be proud of, have reappointed the manager who was so impressive for us before he decided to leave us for greener pastures and are now pushing for the play-offs.
FINANCE DIRECTOR: Yes, mmm, I realise that... the problem is that all this has had a rather substantial impact on our wage bill. Not only that but our average attendances of just over 4,000, paying their entrance fee of £20 a time at the turnstyles, doesn't exactly cover the wages of all these top players as well as the top-notch manager and his staff. And don't forget we had to pay substantial compensation to the bloke who went before him AND his assistant.
DIRECTOR NO 2: Hmm, I see your point.
CHAIRMAN: So, um, how bad is it? And what can we do about it?
FINANCIAL DIRECTOR: I'm afraid to say, your majesty, that we are talking about a fair few million.
CHAIRMAN: Can we hang on until we get promoted, hopefully via the playoffs, and get a nice tidy sum from the gate plus the cash for going up? If need be we could melt down that nice silver cup they give you, too, and put a cheap replacement in the cabinet...
FINANCIAL DIRECTOR: It's a bit of a gamble and I am not sure if we could do that PLUS pay all our bills til the end of the season.
DIRECTOR NO 2 (face lighting up and lightbulb flashing on above his head): Hey, wait a goddamn minute. What if we actually delayed paying our tax? Those buggers at the revenue have far more things to tax themselves than little us, if you'll pardon the pun... and that would give us the leeway to see the season through, win promotion via the playoffs, sell all the players who got us there, get a nice little bit of compensation when a bigger club poaches our manager AND melt down the trophy, replacing it with a cheap imitation.
CHAIRMAN: That is brilliant. That's why you're on the board. All in favour...?

Of course, this is all a bit of tomfoolery, but the news that Port Vale are the latest team to hit dire financial straits does make me beg the question: Why oh why do clubs continue to put off paying their tax bills?
HMRC have obviously had enough of being taken for a ride and the evidence of Portsmouth's continuing demise and the fact Cardiff were pushed to within 24 hours of going bust must have been lost on all these other clubs.
It's all by the grace of God I know but I am sure Gas chairman Nick Higgs and his board must be aware of the pitfalls by now and are running a tight ship.
It would explain why two of our more experienced players, Byron Anthony and Scott McGleish, have gone out on loan recently and why we didn't make any permanent transfers during the January window.
Nice to see, also, that the man we have appointed to the hot seat, Mark McGhee, has been prepared to work with the staff already at the Mem rather than bring in his own entourage, as others have done before him.
Hopefully the next step will be to have a good look at some of the other younger prospects on our books like Shaquille Hunter and Lamar Powell - players that could become worth something to the club in years to come and keep our head above the parapit.

Dorman delivers

WHILE the rest of the office is engrossed in a close encounter of the rugby kind, I am sitting quietly at my desk.
I've got fingers crossed, legs crossed and toes crossed.
And it has nothing to do with the action being enacted out on the playing fields of Twickers.
Half the office is rooting for England, the other half for Wales. They aren't all Welsh, some of them claim to be Irish while never having moved more than 300 yards from north London in their entire lives. Plastic paddies, if you like.
To them, a defeat for England - whoever manages to inflict it - amounts to a victory for the entire Celtic Brotherhood.
Me? I'm staring intently at the small computer screen in front of me, watching the final football scores coming through.
And I'm only really interested in one result.
It is an indictment of our season that I am actually hoping the Gas can hold on to a 0-0 draw at the Don Valley Stadium in Sheffield, which is currently the home of Rotherham.
At least it would mean that our recent resurgence under new boss Mark McGhee hasn't petered out following defeat at Shrewsbury and a 0-0 home draw with Oxford.
Then in one brief instance my whole weekend has been transformed.
A message flashes up on the bottom of the screen.
Rotherham 0 Bristol Rovers 1 (Dorman 90).
And I feel like running around the office, ripping off my shirt and waving it above my head.
I know it's not a cup final - just a run-of-the-mill middle table contest in the depths of League 2. But McGhee has pulled another rabbit out of the hat, and suddenly all those fears of relegation that haunted me just a few weeks ago have been banished for the season.
Ah, Andy Dorman.
He's been on loan with us from Crystal Palace, a proud holder of three Welsh caps and a bloke who, by all accounts, had a decent scoring record when North of the border at St Mirren.
He's been with us since the end of last year, and hadn't scored once until now.
You beauty!
There's even better to come. Our former boss Ian "Olly" Holloway - a Gashead legend -has just managed to mastermind a 3-1 victory for his team Blackpool over our neighbours from the south of Bristol. The last time I had looked at the Trashton scoreline it had been 1-0 to City.
Happy Days, they don't come much better.
It's all getting pretty serious in the rugby, but I am walking around with a huge smile on my face. The Six Nations? Who cares. The Carling Cup final? What of it. The race for the Premier League title? Oh, is that still going on?
To my mind, McGhee hasn't just revived our fortunes, he has sent our expectations into orbit.
Of course, that has happened many times before, but there is something about this manager that oozes authority.
I like, for example, the way he has smashed away some of those favourite football cliches.
You never change a winning side. McGhee tends to do it every week and still gets results. He plays horses for courses, switches clientele and formations, and holds his hands up if things go wrong.
Some players are undroppable. McGhee has been inclined to leave out our two top scorers - Matt Harrold and Scott McGleish - on occasion to keep everyone on their toes. He realises it is a squad game and that with nine games coming up in March he will need all his players fit and firing for the challenge ahead.
Equally, how many managers would see a young talent like Elliot Richards start to make an impact and weigh in with a few goals, only to relegate him to the bench shortly afterwards? That's what McGhee's done because he realises how much performing in the mud and thunder environment of League 2 can physically take it out on a player still finding his feet at this level.
We need to rip up the current team. Everyone was talking about getting in a new manager before the transfer window closed because the squad wasn't strong enough. But, apart from the loan signings of midfielder Matthew Lund from Stoke and centre back Tom Parkes from Leicester(a neccesity when the impressive Aaron Downes received a serious injury) plus the acquisition of fullback Jim Patterson, he has said he is satisfied with what he has got. Not only that he has actually let some players out on loan.
It's a huge change from our last few managers. Paul Trollope picked his team regardless of players' form, trying to stick with the ones he considered his first choices. Short of a catastrophic injury crisis, those on the sidelines knew they would be out in the cold for long periods.
Dave Penney came in and spotted so many glaring problems he tried to change everything at once, and brought in players in the hope they would be able to stem the slide down the league.
He also tried to encourage a whole new playing system on those who had been used to performing in a completely different way, causing resentment among some of our more experienced stars.
And as for Paul Buckle, the players just didn't seem to know where they stood with him. One week they were in favour, the next they were dumped out of the team.
One minute they were playing in their preferred position, next they were switched to do an unfamiliar role for the team. No wonder results suffered when players didn't seem to know where they stood from week to week.
McGhee realises a team must be more than the sum of its parts; That each individual must be completely sure of the job he is there to do; that nothing should be left to chance.
He isn't governed by fear - a fear that changing things might backfire - because he believes in his own abilities and that belief rubs off on the players.
Yes, it's early days I grant you, but the more I see of Mark McGhee, the more I believe we may have stumbled on the right manager at last.

Flamin' marvellous

WE have a dance troupe at the Mem called the Blue Flames.
They are a group of schoolgirls aged roughly between 10 and 15 who have to prance about on the pitch in front of a bunch of grumpy old men, and young ones too, during the half-time break.
As cheerleaders go, they are strictly League 2 level. More Stavros Flatley than Riverdance. Mind you, even Gene Kelly would struggle on our pitch - he may have coped with singing in the rain, but Dancing in a Swamp?
Yet I felt a twinge of sympathy for them on Saturday. They were all ready to perform their routine when the announcer revealed: "I'm sorry, but the CD they have given me doesn't work."
It resulted in this bunch of hardy young ladies having to perform their steps to an entirely different song in temperatures dropping by the second. The tune was "Can You Dig It?" by the Mock Turtles. I wasn't sure if it was some kind of subliminal message from the Groundsman, to be honest.
Still, I guess the girls made the best of a bad job.
Fitting really, because that's what our new boss Mark McGhee was forced to do on Saturday. Some more miserable Gasheads among us might say it is what we are asking him to do, full stop.
To say he pulled it off would be some kind of understatement.
In his first home game in charge, Mr McGhee found himself robbed of a significant number of his first-team squad.
Yet his make do and mend baptism - not helped by the loss of our in-form right back Danny Woodards after just a few minutes - proved a resounding success.
A 2-1 win against 10 man Bradford might not sound particularly convincing, and it was squeeky bum time towards the end particularly when Chris Zebroski mowed down speedy sub Kyal Reid yet the referee failed to point to the penalty spot, but I must admit it was my most enjoyable day at the Mem for a very long time.
At last I was seeing a Rovers team who were prepared to compete for every ball - despite the fact they were depleted by injuries.
The fans on the Blackthorne were loud and supportive, the moans were kept to a minimum, and the action was pretty intense throughout.
A few weeks ago we would have been bullied out of a game like this. Make no mistake, Bradford were prepared to put themselves about.
But the introduction of an experienced and dominant centre back in Aaron Downes and an unflappable keeper in Michael Poke has made the world of difference.
Downes has been just the partner needed by the young but raw on-loan Leicester defender Cian Bolger and the two of them won headers all day long, sometimes under intense pressure from some physical Bradford challenges.
And what first impressions of Mr McGhee?
AS we stood on the family enclosure before kick off I asked: "Isn't that Mark McGhee out there in the tracksuit?"
"Ooh, I don't know. It looks a bit like him," said my pal Haydn.
The guy in question was taking a full part in the pre-game training, chatting affably to some of the players.
But, as far as I could tell, there was no announcement beforehand that our new manager had taken the pitch, no salute to the crowd, no turning to all four sides of the ground to clap his new fanbase.
When he left the pitch after the warm ups my mate agreed. "Yeah, you're right. It's him."
I liked this understated approach, in stark contrast to Paul Buckle's arrival in a fanfare of publicity and premature glory.
And nothing changed when McGhee walked back across the pitch before kick off, wearing the same tracksuit.
He acknowledged the salute of the Uplands Terrace behind the dug out, took time out to sign a few autographs for younger fans and then got down to work.
My first impressions of him were of a total professional here to concentrate on doing a job rather than get wrapped up in all the hype that inevitably surrounds new managers.
I guess at the age of 54 he has seen it all before, and certainly the way Rovers lined up in the opening half gave further evidence of a man who was trying to think differently to get the best out of the limited number of options he had available.
A case in point was a more advanced role for our on-loan midfielder Andy Dorman, suggesting that the new boss had seen him play for St Mirren while he was doing a job north of the border.
At St Mirren Dorman racked up 24 goals in 108 appearances and became a fans' favourite, yet he has played a holding role in midfield since the start of his loan spell with the Gas and has yet to hit the target.
Interesting.
McGhee had the advantage of an early goal as Lee Brown, in his new advanced role, struck the opener. But then things changed with Woodards leaving the field.
It meant Rovers were forced to cut their cloth, bringing Michael Smith across to the right back role to which he is more accustomed and pushing Brown back to left back.
A shame, not just because Woodards has become a key player for the Gas but because it meant we couldn't see more of the starting formation and tactics.
Still, it seems that slowly the optimism is coming back to a club choked by frustration and blunted expectations. Ten points out of 12 and the fear of relegation seems to be fading away.
Can't wait to see what Mr McGhee does with a full squad at his disposal and perhaps the option to dip into the transfer market.

Reasons I'm not a football manager, number 93.
Ten minutes into the second half I turned to my mate and remarked: "That Elliot Richards is struggling. His control doesn't seem to be up to much and I think he's our weak link at the moment. McGhee should take him off."
Fast forward five minutes and I'm jumping for joy with the rest of the Gasheads as young Richards charges through onto a defensive mistake to blast our second goal under the Bradford keeper.
I'd like to say I'll keep my mouth shut in future - but I don't think I'd be able to stick to that promise.

Never mind the b*!!*&%s

I'VE just passed another milestone. I won't give away my age but I work out I've now been supporting Bristol Rovers for 45 years.
To mark the occasion I had a great surprise present from my brother.
He recently bumped into the legend that is Paul Cook, the former drummer of the Sex Pistols, and managed to get a personally signed autograph for me.
It said simply: "To Nick, Bollox, Paul Cook."
I was overwhelmed. After all, it's such a great word, Bollox. Forget the literal sense, I find it is an expletive you can use in virtually any circumstance: Particularly when associated with my beloved football team.
In fact, I believe it was the one word I uttered as I stared pretty vacantly at the TV as the score came in from Whaddon Road on Saturday. After a pause for it to sink in I then pronounced: "Well... bollox!" The expression combined perfectly the emotions of high exhiliration and barely disguisable shock that I, and I imagine Gasheads throughout the world, were feeling at the knowledge that we had pulled ourselves up to the lofty heights of 17th in League Two - having taken our recent unbeaten run to THREE games.
And while we were all getting a bit carried away with such an unexpected early bonus, our new manager was having none of it. He refused to take the credit, passing it on to the players for their professionalism and hard work.
He said he hadn't changed anything in particular and had taken a backseat to Shaun North, who has been our caretaker coach this last couple of weeks.
Pardon me, but Bollox.
Certainly the players are gaining in confidence but I think knowing that there is a highly experienced, no-nonsense manager now at the helm of the club might have had a little bearing on how things turned out.
He was on the training ground for two days before the game, for instance. Players were tweeting about how much they had enjoyed training. He had tickled the formation slightly, so that we had gone from a 5-4-1 to a 4-4-2, after first consulting the players on what they thought.
Of course, this is all "new manager syndrome". There have been plenty of false dawns in the past.
But at least Saturday's result and overall performance proved that the players we have at the club ARE good enough, and recent suggestions that few of them were better than Conference level are well off the mark.
Certainly the two new loan players at the heart of the defence - goalkeeper Michael Poke and centre half Aaron Downes - have played a big part. The thought of securing two clean sheets in three games would have been the stuff of fantasy a month ago.
But also the much-maligned Chris Zebroski is proving his worth at this level, and our hard pushed midfielder Craig Stanley is becoming some sort of Gas icon having been roundly abused in some quarters a little while ago.
Let's hope the transformation continues and the supporters can carry on getting behind the team and putting some of the recent negativity behind them - the support at Cheltenham was, by all accounts, phenomenal.
The next test coming up is Bradford City at home, on Saturday. Glad to say, being on a week's holiday from my job in London, I'll be able to see at first hand what effect our new manager has had having been preparing the team for this game all week.
A home win to go with our recent achievements would be, pardon the pun, the Dog's Bollox.

McGhee wizz!

EIGHT years ago, living in Cardiff, I enjoyed one of those rare moments of unbridled joy as a Rovers fan.
There haven't been many.
But this was, in modern day parlance, a laugh-out-loud moment: Even though I was sitting alone in my car driving back from visiting my parents for Sunday lunch in Bristol.
To be honest on that day I just had to get out of the Welsh capital. There was no way I could stay there when that OTHER team, the one that resides at Ashton Gate, was appearing in a play-off final at the Millennium Stadium. I didn't think I could handle the city being taken over by crowing Bristol City fans.
To be fair, they were cast-iron favourites to win promotion and most of us couldn't see any other result. They were, after all, only playing Brighton. A team who had been in a downward spiral, without a ground and with very few resources to call on. They were homeless, having to eek out some kind of existence at an unfit-for-purpose athletics stadium known as the Withdean.
In short, they were Nomads. For fellow Gasheads, considering our experiences over the last 30 years, this all must sound vaguely familiar.
But it didn't pan out the way the critics expected. There were six minutes of a dour game to go when Brighton won a penalty and Leon Knight, the striker who had been banging in goals for them all season like some mini version of Jermain Defoe, sent our former keeper Steve Phillips the wrong way from the spot.
It might not have been pretty but it was a triumph of tactical nous.
Brighton's manager Mark McGhee explained: "We're not a free-scoring side because we don't have the legs in midfield. We try and break teams down and make life difficult for them."
In the opposite dressing room the Bristol City manager Danny Wilson admitted: "It was not the most attractive game. It was very bitty and there were very few chances. In the end it was decided by Lady Luck favouring Brighton."
On the way home from Bristol that night I happened to look in my mirror as I headed through Shirehampton. There was a huge banner, skull and crossbones on one side and BRFC on the other. In the middle it just said: "BACK TO SLEEP GIANTS".
It was a message from Rovers fans to our friends in the south who would have been able to read it clearly as their gloom-filled coaches headed home.
Oh, how I laughed.
And for that one moment of frivolity I would like to thank Mark McGhee, the man who was today named as the new manager of my beloved Gas.
It is an appointment seen by some as a bit of a gamble. He has been out of the game for two years and his last appointment at Aberdeen wasn't particularly successful.
But during a long career spanning Reading, Leicester, Wolves, Millwall, Brighton, Motherwell and Aberdeen, he has enjoyed plenty of highs and promotions to go with the odd failure.
I was a bit underwhelmed by the appointment at first but the more I think of it the happier I am.
This is a man who, I truly believe, can steady the ship and get us going in the right direction.
He is used to managing in unfavourable circumstances.
He has certainly proved that, tactically, he is no mug.
If he got Brighton to play on the beach that was the Withdean and win football matches, I am confident he can do the same thing for Rovers on the bog that is the Memorial Stadium.
Things have been made of his temperament and the possibility he might fall out with players.
I think it is more a case that he doesn't suffer fools gladly.
It was McGhee, for instance, who fell out with that same Leon Knight on a coach trip to Southampton one day, stopped the bus in the New Forest, and chucked the striker off. Anyone who has followed the prolific Knight's career will realise that he suffers from "The Great I am" syndrome.
People may say that he is just another Paul Buckle in the making. But Buckle is hardly much older than the players whereas McGhee has the medals to back up his approach.
He won the European Cup Winners Cup with Aberdeen under Sir Alex Ferguson, has sealed promotions with not only Brighton but Reading and Millwall too - all from the lower divisions - and helped Motherwell to the unbelievable heights of sealing a place in Europe.
Reading, Millwall, Brighton - all struggling in the depths of the Football League. Where are they now? All competing well in the Championship.
Who better to restore some sanity to a club that has blatantly "lost it" over the last few years?

Talent spotting

FIRST came former Doncaster manager Sean O'Driscoll, followed closely by Sky pundit and ex-Crystal Palace, Charlton and Hull boss Iain Dowie.
Suddenly, up on the rails appears former Walsall and Luton chief Richard Money, and after that the bookies tell us that ex-England legend Paul Ince is the clear favourite for the hot seat.
Meanwhile our chairman Nick Higgs is partaking of some winter sun in Italy. Fiddling, while Rome burns?
Quite honestly, any right-thinking Gashead is becoming heartily sick of the speculation, while secretly hoping the Bristol Rovers board flout tradition and produce an absolute gem to be our next manager. Maybe Mr Higgs will come back with Gianluca Vialli or Italy's World Cup winning manager Marcello Lippi in tow.
At least Shaun North, the man left in charge of the rapidly sinking Pirate ship, managed to keep us afloat by masterminding a 2-1 win at relegation rivals Hereford. Three much-needed points to keep us out of the drop zone for the time being.
Mind you, it made for painful listening on Radio Bristol. I was put through 94 minutes of inane chatter between the commentator and Bristol Rovers programme editor Keith Brookman.
I heard about four minutes of the action and the rest of the time had to put up with them telling me how Rovers were in control, didn't look like losing and were virtually guaranteed three points, even though at that point there were 15 minutes to go.
It was agony.
An example of what I had to listen to was: "Rovers played really well in the first half. They've looked pretty comfortable. Oh and that's a hopeful punt upfield by Hereford... oh it's landed in the path of Delroy Facey, and he scores!"
Pah, should have gone to the game myself. Only trouble is, there is no surer way to jinx the Gas than for me to travel to see them. Not only that but I would have to handle the disapproving glances from the wife, too.
Anyway, it's another big game on Saturday at home to promotion-chasing Crawley, who battered us earlier on this season. Hopefully those fans who wanted Paul Buckle sacked will respond to having their wishes granted by giving their vocal support on Saturday.
I can't say they proved very intimidating in our big FA Cup game against Aston Villa last Saturday. After all the excitement, we bowed out with barely a whimper, losing 3-1 to a Premier League side that didn't get out of first gear.
At the same time we were embarrassed on national TV by the state of the bog-like Memorial Ground pitch and the strange "timber yard" which suddenly appeared on the sidelines and swallowed up the ball following one hopeful defensive clearance by our porous defence.
Any "big-name" manager waiting in the wings might have been ever-so slightly discouraged by our public humiliation, I imagine.
I'm not sure, either, that the likes of Ince or Dowie are the answer.
Far better, to my mind, to get someone in who understands the unique qualities of the Gashead - someone, unlike Paul Buckle and Dave Penney, who can bond with the fans and produce the kind of fighting, attractive performances with which we can relate.
Geraint Williams and Keith Curle are still out there and I think I'd settle for either of these former Gas players than to sit around for a few more weeks while Sven Goran-Eriksson does the maths on whether he can afford to live in Bristol on such a modest salary.
Still, I've heard his agent has already been scouring the local nightclubs for eligible "talent".

It's Paul over

FORGIVE me Gasheads for I have sinned. It has been almost a month since my last blog entry.
To be honest, I feared I was losing my faith.
Having been convinced that Paul Buckle and the board were going to take us to the promised land, it was soul-destroying to see us once again slump into the pergatory that is a relegation dogfight.
What's more, being on the Memorial Ground terraces was like witnessing the last days of Soddom and Gommorah.
It was a painful experience, with Gashead pitted against Gashead, and a wailing and gnashing of teeth that could be heard all the way down the Muller Road and back at Eastville.
And that was even before kick off.
As the Christmas period approached I was still full of confidence that we would be able to reverse the worrying decline in our fortunes over the previous few months.
Ok, we got a rude awakening at Gillingham - losing 4-1 after encouraging draws with promotion chasers Southend and Swindon - but I' never expect us to get anything against the Kent club.
I hate them. We've NEVER really had a good record there. It's a thankless journey to the end of the earth that normally results in no points, no encouragement and a depressing coach journey home.
But Plymouth on Boxing Day, another home game against Crewe on New Year's Eve, followed by a trip to Barnet on the Monday really encouraged the promised revival.
So it was I headed off to the Mem for a high noon kick off against seemingly doomed Plymouth, having been unable to see Rovers due to work commitments apart from our FA Cup moment in the spotlight, beating non-league Totten 6-1 on TV.
First off, I must say I was surprised at the negativity pervading the terraces even before kick off.
I might have expected a modicum of Xmas cheer to be shared with players and manager before kick off but from my place on the Uplands Terrace all I could hear was a diatribe of negativity from those around me. And it didn't improve even though we were 2-0 up at the break and - I thought - playing some decent football.
What happened after half time was nothing short of scandalous, though. It was as if a different team had taken the pitch and the lack of drive, effort and professionalism from certain players shocked me.
Here was a chance to kick on, to get the Xmas period off to a cracking start and launch ourselves on the quest for nine points from three games and a belated chance to challenge at the top end of the table.
But whatever those players had been told by the manager, whether they weren't fit enough to cope with the heavy pitch or whether they could physically FEEL the vibe of those who just wanted the manager out, it is difficult to tell.
Plymouth, who had looked toothless in the first half, got one goal back and their fans were suddenly in full voice while ours were perplexed, bemused and silent.
It was a situation crying out for a manager to make some decisive decisions, to ring the changes, switch tactics and inspire us to complete what should have been a routine victory.
But Paul Buckle remained routed to the bench, like a rabbit caught in headlights, unable to decide what his next move was.
And inevitably Plymouth equalised, then struck the winner in the last minute of injury time.
Of course, to a great many on the terraces it was a self-fulfilling prophecy. The boos rang out and the chants of "We Want Buckle Out" quickly followed.
And although I have been pushing for him to be given more time to get it right, I knew at that moment he would never win them back.
He should have gone then. But the board dithered and dallied.
The next result - a 5-2 home defeat by Crewe - proved that even the players had lost faith in him.
The 2-0 loss at Barnet was just the final nail in his coffin.
Finally, the directors moved to remove him from the post. Some might say it was a move of compassion, because the kind of abuse he was being subjected to was becoming beyond the pail.
We have always been a resilient lot, but I've never known a manager split the faithful in the way the former Torquay boss had done - in such a short space of time, too.
It made for a horrible atmosphere on the terraces and at the ground.
Rumours of Buckle calling Bristolians a four-letter word in the dressing room after one particular defeat, and his public proclamation that they should lower their already pretty low expectations were contributory factors to turning them against him.
And so we sack a third manager in 12 months. If you include caretakers Darren Patterson and Stuart Campbell, the next man will be the sixth at the helm in that time.
It worries me because it is the classic recipe for a club in meltdown and heading out of the Football League.
I hope I am wrong. I hope the next appointment is someone who can truly re-unite the fans, with the tactical nous to save us from the dreaded drop.
It's calling out for a wise old head, someone who has found themselves in similar situations, kept their cool and done the necessary.
I don't care if it is ugly, dirty, grinding - as long as it is enough to keep us up.
There are a few candidates: Gary Johnson, the ex-City boss, would be the worst choice in my book. Too many Gasheads hate him already. His last two clubs, Peterborough and Northampton, had a habit of conceding a torrent of goals, something which we are all too familiar with at the moment.
Sean O'Driscoll would inspire the pretty football Rovers fans crave, but can we afford to work at playing that way on heavy winter pitches where we are required to scrape and scrap for every point?
Iain Dowie hasn't been a success at his last few clubs, but what he did at Crystal Palace, taking them from the bottom three to Premier League promotion is difficult to forget.
But I like the sound of Keith Curle. Ex-Gashead, tough reputation, knows about defensive organisation and has spent time under the wise tutelage of Neil Warnock. He certainly isn't afraid of winning ugly and has been around a long time.
Before then, though, we will have Buckle's assistant Shaun North in charge for Saturday's big FA Cup third-round clash with Aston Villa. It's a nice distraction after such a horrible few weeks.
And at least we'll all be united for that one...