Knee Jerk Poppies Ownership simply can't stop digging.

I suppose we ought to thank George and Fabian for clarifying their previous statement where they pretty much accused everyone who attends games at Latimer Park of being racist. Even though it was definitely a grudging and pointedly partial climbdown, it was at least a step in the right direction.  It would have been infinitely better had they not instantly jumped in with two-feet in the first place, but what's done is done.  If nothing else, hopefully Fabian has learnt that those in authority releasing statements while angry is rarely a good idea.

Unfortunately, Fabian's borderline libellous tarring of us all has gained infinitely more traction with local and national news outlets that the "clarification" statement ever will.  To the public at large we're still that racist football club being racist again.  And the more we argue with this lazy "fact" the worse we sound.

My favourite paragraph about our new-found status as the "Restore Britain" of the footballing world was this sentence from the BBC's website -

"The incident comes after a match official reported alleged racial abuse at a Kettering fixture last season, and a previous instance of alleged racist abuse against a Redditch player at Latimer Park in 2017."

The word "alleged" is doing an amazing amount of heavy lifting here.  Something that might have happened a while ago, might have also happened an even longer while ago....I mean WTF!

I would be interested to know how many banning orders have been issued to such an obviously racist supporter base in the past couple of years.  Perhaps George can enlighten us?

Last week's "incident" should have been a slam-dunk for the club to name, shame and ban someone.  A barely filled terrace where every face was entirely viewable.  Match officials and players standing around in close attendance.  Opposition supporters on the spot who would have been eager to pint out the miscreant.  And yet, nothing.

Some of those close to the action, including supposedly some of the players have recalled hearing shouts of "fat bastard" at the time.  Could it be that our entire reputation as a club and as people supporting that club is being damaged, possibly permanently, because a footballer mis-heard something?  Could this be the reason we are all getting the proverbial shit kicked out of us by everyone in football and society beyond, including our own club officials?

Unfortunately, our own people turning on us has proved to be the last straw for many Poppies fans who were still prepared to give George and Fabian the benefit of the doubt.  The owners had previously lost the backing of many due to their shoddy handling of numerous off-field matters.  Some checked out as several formerly trusted volunteers resigned, all telling similar tale of behind-the-scenes chaos or worse.  Yet others declared that enough was enough when George put his hands up for seemingly-fraudulently applying for funding towards our new floodlights.  A few even flew the coop over the protracted nature of the sale of the club that George may or may not be responsible for.

Seemingly determined to turn the rest of us against them, the current ownership now throw poisonous, unsubstantiated accusations at them.  I can't quite shake the thought, no doubt an irrational one, that all this racism talk might make for an awfully good smokescreen and narrative for leaving the club and making it sound like they had been hounded out.  Nothing was their fault and all the blame lies with those racist hicks from the Northamptonshire sticks.  I'm probably miles off, but it might be interesting to keep half an eye on the "Watford Observer" in the coming months for an interview with a plucky local footballing-man and his tales of woe....

"Couple of Klondikes please Ken...."

Not Fab by any stretch....

As much as want to avoid the cliché "thrown under the bus" it's difficult to think of a more apt phrase after reading Fabian's comments about Poppies supporters today.  It is obvious from reading the article on the ET site that Fabian feels strongly about what has been reported.  The words come across as passionate and we can all side with him on the subject of racist abuse.  But to practically accuse us all of racist-adjacent compliance by not calling out such incidents has struck a discordant note with fans.  While we appreciate that no-one should be subject to racist abuse, we would also suggest few appreciate being labelled racist because they haven't personally condemned and identified the perpetrator of something that may have happened 100 yards from them.

But the facts during the Redditch game could do with repeating.  I may be wrong, but the player in question didn't seem to bring the abuse to anyone's attention at the time.  Seemingly Paul White and the Referee, who were as close, or even closer to the fans than the complainant heard nothing. The Redditch fans at the game were standing where he stated the abuse came from also seemingly they heard nothing.  There were barely 10 people on this part of the terrace.  How could this person not be singled out then and there?  It doesn't mean that something totalling indefensible WASN'T said, but it is always dangerous to simply take one person's recollection of an incident as gospel.  

I personally know this to be the case, having stood next to Dave Singh during the infamous Singh-gate incident a couple of seasons ago and KNOWING the player in question was either entirely mistaken or worse when calling out a racist comment.  Mistakes CAN happen in the heat of the moment.  I'm not saying this is necessarily the case, but should we expect our own Director of Football to instantly tar all of us as, at the very least, racism-accepting?

And then, to further labour his entirely erroneous point he basically accuses any of us who use social media to hold the club officials to minimum expected ownership standards of using "vile racist language".  I would suggest Fabian re-read KTFC Chat.  There's plenty of crap on there.  There's much bitterness from the usual suspects. And there's far too many fake profiles.  But I don't recall reading anything racist on there.  Unfortunately, being accused of racism sticks long after the exact incident is long forgotten.  Even more so when it's your own club officials throwing those accusations around.

Pulling the Plug

Another day, another crisis in Poppyland.  

This week's evidence of the END OF DAYS is the mass stepping down of our Media team.  No more match highlights.  No more post match interviews where the Greenie and Bridgie try to find yet another way of talking about a match without sounding like Ron Manager from the Fast Show.  No more radio commentary when Cookie confidently blurts out "that's a goal" moments before backtracking with, "Oh no, it's not".  Now, no-one at Patgod has ever commentated on a live football match, but, if we might suggest, perhaps announce the goal when the ball actually hits the net rather than every time the ball flashes across the 6-yard box?  Just a thought....

I think it's fair to say we live in a society increasingly built on instant gratification where all needs and wants are speedily catered to.  We're always amazed when an Amazon parcel turns up next day.  "Wow, I only ordered this yesterday evening".  But woe betide a delivery that hasn't turned up a couple of days later.  We're banging on neighbours doors and checking behind every wheely bin in a two-mile radius.  Similarly, we've become comfortably accustomed to watching Poppies post match managerial comments on You tube within 24-hours of the game, at the absolute latest.  And if the match highlights aren't served up within a couple of days gaskets are well and truly blown across the length and breadth of KTFC Chat.

Being of a generation who remembers when we had to reach the first round proper of the FA Cup to have even a sniff of seeing a Poppies goal on the telly, it's amazing how blasé we've become to televised Poppies on tap, day and night, 365 days a year.  Forever.  If not longer.

Perhaps not having the Poppies served up on TV for a while will make us appreciate what we get a little more.  This footage doesn't just happen.  It's not magicked-up.  People put hard work into giving us a service.  A nice bonus to attending matches.  

Assuming the withdrawal of this service is more to do with encouraging the presumed regime-change we are all waiting for, rather than for purely technical reasons, we can only hope for normal service to be resumed sooner rather than later.  

OK, perhaps some of the equipment is
showing it's age a little...

Getting a bit nervous now.....

Anyone engaged in the most casual perusal of our club's social media in the past few weeks would have been hard pushed to note any movement towards the current owners selling up and moving on.  Since the initial post from George about accepting Brad's offer to purchase the club 5-weeks ago we've seen nothing but "business as usual" messages from the top and how great it is to be in charge of such an iconic club.

This is all well and good.  And the team are certainly doing their bit in keeping us in the hunt, but looking at the underlying trends and the picture is less rosy.  Even though we are playing through something of a golden period, our recent attendances have been appalling.  We've gone from being disappointed not to get 1000 through the turnstiles to hoping we don't dip below 500.  I don't buy the "bad weather" excuse.  There's plenty of cover at Latimer Park if you want to stay dry.  

At the same time it's clear from the number of hospitality invites that we are struggling with matchday sponsors and hospitality bookings which is a crying shame as it's a great facility and experience.

It seems a lot of our fan base are sitting back and waiting for the takeover to happen or at least, updated news about it.  And what do we get instead?  George posting as though nothing has changed and disquieting rumours that Brad is about to withdraw his offer.  Are we truly going to sleepwalk into fading gates and off-field malaise when the opportunity of a lifetime is within our grasp?  Well, if any club could, it would probably be us.

We don't need to know the ins and outs of the club sale, but some updates and appropriate language from the club would really make us all feel a lot less fearful that the present ownership aren't going to scupper the club's best hope in several generations.  If the takeover stalls, the chances are it won't be just the usual mouthy malcontents complaining and not attending games - it could well be an awful lot more of us.

To paraphrase a lyric from Queen's Roger Taylor on his latest album "It's a Beautiful Club - Don't f*ck it up."

Everyone's happy that you're happy, but c'mon,
let's get the takeover sorted, eh?

REDEMPTION!

Our regular reader will recall my shameful profiteering from the gut-wrenching recent injury time defeat to Bromsgrove where the footballing reverse was personally cushioned slightly by winning dirty money by betting against the Poppies.  I guess I still feel bad about it.  It could be guilt I'm experiencing if all emotions hadn't been worn down to a nub through decades of being used and abused by the Poppies.

Anyway.  On Tuesday I believe I achieved a small amount of redemption for my previous act of betting falsehood.  At 2-0 down at home to Rushall I put a bet on the Poppies to come back and win.  Annoyingly, I didn't have much cash in my online wallet, so only had £7.50 to put on my boys to complete a second-half turnaround.  I guess someone had banked most of their previous winnings....ahem...

I think we were worth a punt.  Despite being behind at the break the game had been pretty even.  Sure, Rushall looked slick on our suddenly fabulous pitch (!) but we were definitely matching them.  A quick goal at the start of the second half and who knows, the comeback might be on.....

The team were obviously keen to back me in my betting endeavours and for 25 minutes at the start of the second half ran riot and gave Rushall the kind of unremitting spanking that would probably be an expensive high-end extra at certain discreet establishments.  Suddenly we were 3-2 up and £70 notes looked to be heading my way.

The balance of the game grew more even for the last quarter, even more so when Coyle went for 2 rather innocuous yellow cards.  You will never have seen anyone move as fast as me to "cash out" my bet when we were reduced to 10-men.  I swear I'd banked £58.00 of the possible £70.00 between the ref fishing in his pocket for the red card and waving it at our bemused number 3.

The players, not realising I'd cashed out, and still playing for my bet, dug-in and got us over the line.  Thanks lads.  I couldn't do it with out you.

Next column - adventures at my first Gamblers Anonymous meeting - 

SPLITTER!!!

To understand this article you need to understand a little of my relationship with my late father.  Bear with me.  It'll all make sense.  Hopefully.

My Dad was a non-archetypal armchair Manchester United fan inasmuch as he WAS an armchair MU fan, but rarely chose to actually watch them despite having the full Sky TV package.  If I was watching TV with him and a United game was on he would put it on for me to watch.  He'd watch too, but got almost no enjoyment from the action.  He simply didn't like football that much.  He'd happily watch back-to-back test cricket day-after-day but 90 minutes of football would bore him to tears.  

If the TV was carrying a United game while I was visiting my dad would be straight online with his trusty laptop laying a few small bets on the game to keep his interest.  Next goal scorer.  Number of throw-ins.  Correct full-time scores.  Halftime advantage.  Number of physio visits.  You name it.  He'd have a succession of small punts on it.  

But the thing was, he NEVER bet on United in any of these bets.  He'd always pick the opposition to win most corners, score more goals, win the game, or have most Physio interactions (the last one might be a lie).  He used to say that it bored him to bet on United as he already wanted then to win, but if the opposition succeeded, even though it might disappoint him he felt he'd still make something out of the game by potentially winning the odd bet.

I only mention this because this week for the first ever time, I placed an online bet against the Poppies.  Five minutes into the second half against Bromsgrove no Poppies fan in the ground held out a hope of us holding onto our slender 1 goal lead with 10-men and the home team utterly rampant.  They could have scored three before our coaching staff were fully in their seats at the start of the second half.

I glanced at the odds on my betting app and the odds of a Bromsgrove win were lengthening despite the completely one-sided nature of the game and the charmed life our goal was leading.  Realising the betting app based the odds solely on the scoreline I watched the odds increasing as the half wore on.  Finally I thought, what the hell and put £20 (the cost of the coach to the game which I had left over after the missus pulled out of attending) on Bromsgrove to win.

My thought process was simple.  We win and that would be brilliant.  But, as seemed likely, we lose, I've at least come out with something.  Believe me, I was as gutted as any Poppies fan when they got their second goal well into stoppage time.  All thoughts of wining my bet temporarily evaporated.  But I wasn't so consumed with all-consuming angst that I didn't wisely cash out 30 seconds from the end of the game when we had the chance to aim a long throw into their penalty area.  I didn't want to end up hopping up and down in celebration should we have equalised while at the same time crying over losing a nice wedge....

As we know, the equaliser never came and Bromsgrove celebrated in the appropriate, time-honoured way all teams do when beating Kettering Town.  It's clear Sporting have invested heavily in their club, with a new, lively team, 2 scoreboards, more electric advertising hoardings than I've seen at every other team at this level put together and the proverbial billiard table pitch.  I'm also pleased that the good folk of Bromsgrove turned out in force to support this investment in their club with fully almost 400 of them "packing out" their stadium.  In the event that they are the promoted club from the pack of us that will trail in after Real Bedford come April, I'm sure the National North league will welcome another barely supported, heavily funded club with glee.

And my winnings?  If nothing else, I now know what the expression "blood money" feels like.  It's not nice.  Don't be surprised if it ends up being spent at Latimer Park or on the supporter coach some time soon.

 

Finance is no cure for Fatalism, alas

Well, the statements on the club website by George and Brad pretty much redefined for the modern age the phrase "puff-piece."  Both sides sought to out-do each other in gushing praise of the other.  For a football club more famous for injudicious and questionable social media postings this piece was professionally put together with a polish and re-read through usually sadly lacking.

Brad and Craig celebrated in the appropriate fashion with another interview on Poppycast podcast, where enthusiasm for their coming tenure was palpable.  They have BIG plans, no doubt.  And I should have been as excited as they were.  I wanted to be.  But I wasn't.  No doubt this says more about me than them.  But I've been a Poppies fan for too many years to take anything at face value.  I WANT to get enthused by the prospect of Brad's billions funding my club, but at the back of my mind I'm remembering what happened at the Diamonds.  

Part way through Brad and Craig's chat on the Podcast all I that flashed in front of me was that this is exactly what Max Griggs said in the Evening Telegraph about his plans for the Scum 30-odd years ago.  To be fair, he was as good as his word.  The Griggs millions funded one hell of a roller coaster ride for the suddenly flush inbreds. But, at the end of the day, despite success and attendances we can only dream of in NN16 land, when the funding was pulled the Diamonds bubble burst in the most spectacular and instant way.  I don't want that to happen with the Poppies.

If all this reads as incredibly churlish, I apologise, but even the starriest-eyed, George-hating, Brad-loving Poppies headcase knows, deep down, nothing in football is ever too good to be true.