The Problem with Radio Northampton part 17

Patgod has had ongoing issues with the uneven overage that Radio Northampton gives to the Poppies and the Scum. How many times has coverage been from Nene Park, or wherever the Direones happen to be? How many times have RN made an last minute excuse for not covering a Poppies game, and the coverage suddenly swapped to the Nonce Park Freakshow?

We were so sick of the obvious bias that we wrote to Geoff Doyle, the Sports Editor at RN asking why Radio Northampton all to often became Radio Direones. Part of his reply read thusly,

"To clarify, the general BBC policy is to provide Online commentary of the home Conference match which is what most (but not all) local BBC stations try to do so that the opposition BBC station don't have to send a reporter if they don't want, to save costs."

Why then do we often get two stations covering the Scum games, including the faithful RN? And why, more shockingly, in light of Geoff's comments, was the local radio car sent all the way down to Eastbourne tonight to cover the Inbred's game? The very idea of covering the Poppies at Gateshead on the opening day of the season was completely dismissed, but the budget, will and sat-nav are all present and correct when it comes to a trip to the coast to follow Justin's army of freaks?

Why don't RN just come clean and admit that the Scum give them half a bar? Perhaps covering them gives them the warm glow they used to get they had TWO League teams to cover (like a big-boy's radio station?) Perhaps RN thought they were somehow "big time" when Max had paid millions in order to get that glorified f*cking village into the Football League?

Perhaps their dislike for Imraan is having an effect? Perhaps the lack of modern amenities such as running water and glass in the windows in the press box at Rocky Road depresses them? Hopefully their former Poppies reporters open on-air warfare with Imraan hasn't entirely coloured their opinion of our football club.

Whatever the reason I really wish the people at RN would just come out and announce, loud and proud, that they all want to be Justin Edinburgh's love slaves, and get on with it!

Perhaps JP has the right idea...

Option One - Get back to the club mid July.  Sweat your b*llocks off running round and



"Oui, oui, oui....!"



 around Wickies Park.  Run through training routines every day in the blazing sun.  Miss out on the family holiday and get earache from 'er indoors.  Try to shift a bit of "summer love handle" in order to avoid a club fine.  Play several pre-season games where you bust a gut against players you can't get near in front of a couple of hundred whining bastards who bask in the sun complaining about your lack of effort.  Get constantly slagged off by the manager, ch

airman and the chubby online community.  Then you don't get into the starting XI anyway.

Option Two - Get married.  Have a l-o-n-g honeymoon.  Boff like a bunny.  Finally turn up for work a month late and score goals for fun.

I know which sounds best to me....!

Big Sam, Big Joke

Whilst the identity of our next manager remains uncertain, one thing is for sure. It will NOT be Sam Allardyce. That is because Sam has already nailed his colours to the mast by making it clear that his future lies at one of the continent's top clubs.

"I am not suited to Bolton or Blackburn", he explained. "I would be more suited to Inter Milan or Real Madrid".

"I would win the double or the league every time".

On hearing this news, Mourinho no doubt fingered his collar nervously and checked the termination clause in his contract.

After all, who can ignore the CV of a man cruelly overlooked whenever the England job falls vacant?

Having established Bolton as a top flight club by liberal use of sports science and flying elbows, he enjoyed an era of unparalled success at Newcastle that lasted all the way to the end of the pre-season friendlies, before he was the unfortunate victim of boardroom politics and an inability to win football matches.

It takes more than that to dent the confidence of a man who signs his autographs as "Big Sam" (why not - he created the name himself). Sam must wake up every morning and wonder how long the world can ignore his greatness. In fact "Sam the Great" has an even better ring to it.

Psychologists call this a delusional fantasy, we say that's just Sam being Sam.

Terry Angus - Superstar!

I've always had a high regard for Terry Angus. Many moons ago I had the pleasure of briefly working alongside Terry and he was always the most bubbly, bouncy personality you'd ever wish to meet. That's not always initially appreciated when you are as miserable as I was back then (Poppies fan working at the Cobblers - you do the math!)

He was the only player at the club you could really have a decent chat with, as most of the others were full of themselves (God knows why as they were bumping along at the bottom of the league) or suspicious of anyone who didn't share their bath water. Terry was certainly the only one who could ever charm additional freebie tickets out of Tracy, the Assistant Secretary. None of the other players even got close to scoring more tickets for their nearest and dearest!

He was also a reasonable player. Certainly we never got much change from him when he was at Nuneaton. One memorable game he had one of our wanabee strikers (Roy Essandoh?) so deep in his pocket that a pickpocket couldn't have extracted him.

When Nuneaton got a replay in the FA Cup a few years back at Middlesbrough he seemed so happy to be visiting that particular dump that you'd be forgiven to thinking that the return game was to be at the Nou Camp!

He also greatly impressed when he came over to the poppies fans after one game to congratulate us on our support, but remained to single out one of our more abusive, one-eyed arseholes and told him straight that he was a disgrace to Kettering Town Football Club! Wow, we've all wanted to say that to some of our racist dickheads, and here was a player doing it for us! Priceless.

I have just listened to his co-commentary of the Cobblers win at Anfield, and he was as entertainingly barmy as ever. He shrieked and whooped through the broadcast, and was as thrilled and excited as any fan. He didn't seem to understand that the co-commentator was meant to be on hand to offer the odd comment to support the main commentator. Not Terry - he rabbited, and bubbled at a thousand miles per hour over the top of the Jeff Doyle, apologising in advance for his screams of delight, and kicking every ball with the players.

Mad, but brilliant. He should be on hand for EVERY Radio Northampton commentary, and, who knows, he might get back over to Rockingham Road one day!

Deja Vu All Over Again

The retro feel to this season gathers momentum. First we assembled a squad uncannily similar to 2008, now we have the same manager as in 2006, and are well on the way to occupying the same league position as 2002, when we headed for a fixture at Forest Green at the end of September with just a single win in the bank...

All our yesterdays but not the ones we like to remember.

And now Imraan is dropping hints that the new boss will be a big name. Ye gods, are we going full cycle back to Gazza? After all, it has uncharacteristically long since our reclusive, camera shy chairman last courted publicity by pairing Morrell Maison (remember him?) with Big Ron.

You can count on the fingers of one hand (half a hand if from Rushden) the number of big names who have dropped into non-League and cut the mustard.

What we need is someone who knows football at this level and can hit the ground running, not risk us plunging further into trouble whilst he learns the ropes.

Oh, and with the contacts to bring in players on loan who can make a difference.

And cheap.

As we await Imraan's next dramatic move, it is small comfort to examine his record in this area to date. Not quite five years at the club, six managerial appointments resulting in four sackings, one ludicrous short term fix that failed, and one success. In other words, P6, W1, D0, L5.

I suspect that the fortunes of DRC Locums were built on rather better judgment than that, but then Imraan isn't the first chairman to discover that being good in one field doesn't automatically extend to others.

Fascinating Facts about Forest Green

FGR are NOT in located in Birmingham, and still don't actually play in green.  Except when they do as an away kit as they did at Rocky Road last year.

They spent a couple of years rebuilding their stadium, only to decide, once complete that they didn't much like the neighbours, so built themselves another ground.  Basically on one street in a tiny west country town they had TWO Conference level football grounds.......Are they taking the piss?



Rush hour strikes Nailsworth



Trouble-making, baby-faced, knob-jockey Lee Fowler has sandwiched his memorable Poppies career with spells at FGR.

They have managed through a mixture of footballing ability and the lucky demise of others to survive several seasons in the top flight of non-league football despite the town of Nailsworth having a smaller population than Burton Latimer.  It also lack's Burton's windfarm, the constant smell of hot weetabix, and predilection for thinking that they aren't just a suburb of Kettering.

Among their former managers is Jim Harvey who seemed to take it upon himself to constantly annoy us when boss of Morecambe.  Mind you, we'd probably dance a jig of delight if he took on the Poppies hot seat about now!

The history of Nailsworth almost makes Kettering look cosmopolitan: -

800AD - evidence of settlements
1923 - arrival of electricity
1965 - ducking stool decommissioned
2007 - new FGR ground opens

Note - Only one of the above is a lie.

If Morrell Maison is the answer.....

......I'm not sure I WANT to know what the question is.



Plenty of smoke, and plenty of fire



His "career" since being sacked here hardly inspires.  Even leaving out the questionably libelous stuff you are left with administration at Halesowen, bans from football, fraud investigations and involvement at Chester City as they blinked out of existence.  The Internet is bulging with stuff about Morrell, which, if only 10% is true, suggests he really shouldn't be allowed back in the door.

I thought this quote from Imraan was rather telling, "He is here to manage the team, not run the club. He is here to do what he is good at."  Even his friend is keen to point out that Morrell will have no influence in off the pitch matters.  Says a lot about how far he trusts him?

The big worry is that should Morrell get a couple of results, will Imraan be tempted to offer him the job again?  Morrell says he doesn't want it, but his word doesn't always seem to be his bond.

Do everyone a favour Imraan and sort out a new manager quickly and ship this guy out, pronto.

Fascinating Facts About Cambridge

Cambridge is still just a small town in Histon apparently.

Syd Barrett - some time Pink Floyd muso, full time space cadet and the man responsible for titling of this very blog used to live there.

Bearded super-know it all Rory McGrath also lives in Cambridge.  However, he has not thus far, as far as we know, assisted with the titling of any Poppies fanzine.

We hear that there is some sort of famous centre for further education associated with the place.  Obviously this place is not attended by some of the webbed fingered Fens folks we have encountered during our annual collection of three points from the Abbey Stadium, unless the euphemistically titled course of "Rural Studies" is still on offer.  Can't imagine their colleges are a patch on Tresham College though.....

At the same time the Poppies were blowing a big Christmas lead in the Conference back in the early 90's, Cambridge United came within a whisker of getting into the PREMIER LEAGUE.  One can only imagine how bitter those memories are nowadays for their fans when the like of us, Tamworth, Eastbourne, or, heaven forbid, Hayes & Yeading turn them over!

The away end at the Abbey Stadium is very nice, but too bloody far from the pitch!

Wanted - One Perfect Manager Part Two

Well, the more vocal elements of our support have had their way and Lee Harper and the Poppies have parted company.  Hopefully now the numerous Poppynetters who have been demanding Lee's head since pre-season can start fantasising about about the next boss that they will be slagging off by Christmas.

Lee's dismissal has left more of a bad taste in my mouth that any of the other managerial dismissals I can remember.  Why?  Mainly because he was a good guy.  He went about his job honestly, and attempted to get his teams to actually play football.  His biggest failing was, seemingly, to not put enough distance between himself and the players.  He was probably still seen as one of the lads, and not the gaffer who could sack them.  I'm sure he will learn from that error.

And it's those players who will need to take a long hard look at how they've acquitted themselves.  It's clear that a number of our players have seriously gone off the boil without a Cooper type manager kicking their arse every day.  Are they such children that the need the big, bad manager to scare them into playing well?  Seemingly , yes!

Also, we supporters need to wake up and smell the coffee from time to time.  We are a paying a tenner to watch non-league football in a division where we are, at best, mid-table in terms of numerical support, and a good deal lower in terms of actual support.  But most of us either recall us being as good as Brazil once upon a time or expect us to be as good as them now, and at the very least be up in the play-offs.  All this despite the fact that this division is awash with much bigger clubs with decades of Football League history behind them.

Unfortunately Lee has paid the price for these inflated expectations.

For readers who missed the Wrexham programme, which unfortunately included the writer, you have the good fortune to have another chance to read the article we slipped in there. Well, we say article when obviously we mean "bare-faced plug for the blog of course!" 

And when we say another chance we mean it in the same way that the ITV channels mean it when then show Mel "Twisted Dwarf" Gibson's "What Women Want" for the hundredth time this year!  That's right - it fills a gap in the schedule!  Enjoy!

The Rebirth of the Football Fanzine

The birth of mass publishing in the 16^th Century led to the cataclysmic division of Europe into bloody religious conflict, whose repercussions are still being felt in the 21^st Century.

Whereas, the sudden availability of slightly quicker, small run publishing in the 1980’s and early 1990’s led to the mushrooming of football fanzines where people could have a bit of a moan about their team’s performances.

Not quite the same!

Lorne Cheetham, Peter Wilson and the writer assumed the awesome responsibility of producing, publishing and selling the Poppies fanzine for most of the 1990’s.  The only criteria for inclusion was that an article should strive to amuse, or be in some vague way about the Poppies, or both if we were lucky. 

Producing PATGOD was fun at times.  A stranger telling you that something you had done had made them laugh is never a bad thing to hear.  Hearing Ginger opponents given a hard time after we’d suggested they somehow deserved it, gave us a glow of pride.  And obviously it was fun from a point of view of all the groupies.

But you had to balance the good with the bad - regularly coming up with new ideas, or assembling the material to fit the issue, or, worst of all, standing like a lemon outside the ground trying to sell it to passers-by who either ignored you or thought you were programme sellers.  It was also never much fun to be told by the Club you support that your efforts were not welcome (although curiously the money we raised and donated always was….) 

We did our bit for Poppies and Country until boredom, lack of time and actually developing a semblance of a life away from Rockingham Road saw us drift away and leave others to keep the fanzine torch burning for a few more seasons.

Peter and I still attended games of course.  Who was going to miss out on thrilling trips to Hitchin, Workington and Gainsborough?   Only now we didn’t have to worry about how to make a 10 hour round trip to Barrow for a 0-0 sound like the game of the century.  We’d become kind of single entity – “Them that used to do the fanzine“.  Fair enough.

Fast forward to 2009 and it struck me that it was the 20^th anniversary of the first appearance of PATGOD.  Questions flooded my mind.  Should we do something to mark this milestone?  Was it still actually being produced?  Did I really waste my youth on the damned thing?

We didn’t really want to go down the route of producing a “Special”, or even a “Best Of”.  God alone knows how the costs of printing the thing would have ballooned over the years.  Had we the infinite patience to scan every page of every issue this may have been an option.  But, there was a lot of stuff in there we wouldn’t necessarily want to see the light of day again.  And anyway, we didn’t want to go through the death by a thousand cuts of having to stand outside the ground again and sell it.

What we needed was a magical way of showcasing the bits and pieces we still quite liked, and perhaps write new material, and not be constrained by deadlines or printers.  But how? HOW?

“What about that new-fangled Interweb?”  It was no longer the preserve of Star Trek nerds and rich Nigerian Generals.  No, now football geeks could find a home there too, and electronic football fanzines seemed to be the way forward.

We set up a modest little site, which, to our surprise is still going strong over a year later.  There are in excess of 200 articles covering everything the Poppies fan could possibly want to read, including, if you look really carefully, some stuff about football!  If you have the Interweb thingie you might want to check us out at www.patgodonline.blogspot.com.

Patgod on Tour Part 3: No sleep till Mablethorpe!

Wanted - One Perfect Manager

Whenever a Manager is sacked after barely a half dozen games into a season the usual reaction is to criticise the club for not giving the Manager a fair chance. Unless, of course, the Manager happens to be managing YOUR Club. In which case it is somehow acceptable to hound out the Boss before October! Lee Harper is coming under an avalanche of criticism from Poppies supporters, some fair, and some unfair. Yes, he is making some mistakes. He does rely on a bit too much "manager-speak" when dealing with the media. Tactically he needs help (oh for someone like John Deehan back on the touchline with him....)

But it is soon forgotten just how new he is to Management. I wonder how many of Lee's armchair critics, who are quick to point out the perceived shortcomings of Lee's efforts could bear such scrutiny themselves in their professional lives? It also doesn't help matters when games such as "Championship Manager" have given too many people a highly inflated idea of their own managerial worth.

In football management, as well as life, no-one has all the answers, and there aren't always "right" responses. Should Lee be thrown out of work for the want of a couple of below-par performances? If his substitutions of formations do not exactly match what each of us would do, does it make him wrong? If I had a penny for every time I'd heard someone say, "That was the worst Kettering game EVER", I would have a substantially larger collection of pennies than I presently have. Let's be honest, we are an infamously fickle bunch of supporters who are almost impossible to impress.

Just what kind of Manager do we want? Using our past bosses as inspiration, and squeezing supporter feedback into the equation, our ideal Manager might be something like this: -

Our perfect Manager should be a bit of a media darling in the mould of Big Ron (as was). Defensively he should be a cross between the dour mindset of Mark (keep them to nil and hope Moses nicks a goal) Cooper and Peter (keep them to nil and hope Robbie nicks a goal) Morris. Our midfield could only come under a 1990 vintage Gazza. Our attacking play should be overseen by Morrell Maison and Mick Jones, using an attack consisting of Rene Howe, Craig Westcarr, JP Marna, Roy Clayton, Billy Kellock and Carl Alford, with Robbie Cooke, Phil Brown and Jonny Graham ready to join in from the bench.

Of course, our perfect Manager must make breathtakingly unexpected decisions, which must be almost entirely successful, in such a way that we could anticipate them beforehand to show how clever we were.....

No doubt we would still find fault, and if the League wasn't won by February Poppynet would be groaning under the weight of, well, groaning.

And if Lee Harper didn't quite grasp the concept of a poisoned chalice previously, it's fair to assume that he does now.

Fascinating Facts About Fleetwood

A little too late for anyone actually planning to travel to the game, but after literally minutes of detailed research, here we go.

Fleetwood, pop 26,000, a former fishing port on the Lancashire coast can trace its origins back to Roman times but was a quiet backwater until a local landowner decided to build it up into a town in the 1800's. The idea was to make it a major terminus for trains connecting to ferries to Scotland and Ireland. Great care was taken in planning an attractive new town, only for the railways to bypass Fleetwood on their way north, and the landowner uttered a Victorian version of "D'oh!".

However, plan B was to develop the harbour into a major fishing port and that enabled Fleetwood to prosper for a while. It also explains Fleetwood Town FC's nickname 'The Cod Army' - possibly the only club nickname that could serve equally well as a fanzine title. Sadly, on a related note, Blackpool's all time top scorer Jimmy Hampson ended his career in novel fashion in 1938, when he drowned off Fleetwood in a sailing accident.

Fleetwood also evolved into an upmarket resort, as a deliberate contrast to its brash cousin Blackpool a few miles down the coast. Today the two are still linked by a tram line but have little else in common apart from a lousy climate - certainly any stag parties looking for raucous thrills in Fleetwood might be disappointed. However Fleetwood isn't entirely dull - it boasts one of the largest model yacht ponds in Europe! And our visit today coincides with the annual pop festival Fleetwoodstock - which is exactly like Glastonbury except with acts you've never heard of.

Finally, we have to mention Fleetwood's most celebrated resident. Born Cyril Mead in 1942, he found fame as a thin chap in glasses who tried to sing a song in a reedy voice whilst a fat man interrupted with bad jokes and impersonations of a host of characters ranging from Telly Savalas to Kojak. Who else but Syd 'Supersonic' Little. Yes children, that was Saturday night entertainment at its best circa 1979.

Strangely, the public eventually tired of this hilarious double act, and Syd shuffled off into early retirement whilst his partner still occasionally pops up to crack a feeble one liner about Manchester City.

Patgod on Tour Part 2: Still Raisin' Hell

North Norfolk Preservation Steam Railway

250th post on PATGOD ONLINE! Irrational Hatreds No.2 - Premier League Fans

100 posts after our initial "Irrational Hatreds" comes the second in this very occasional series.  Nothing gets on my tits quicker than listening to some Premier League wanabee fan smirking the odds at Rockingham Road.  You know the kind of thing - there's a dodgy pass or poor effort on goal and from behind you hear one dickhead snort to this mate, "Oh my God, did you see that?"  "Rubbish or what?"  This would be fair enough if you hadn't heard them chortling at play for fully 80 minutes and comparing it to the action down at Shite Hart Lane.

That's right, even though Premier League fans are a personal peeve, Tottenham fans at Rockingham Road are the worst!  Spurs have pretended to be a "Big Club" for 40 years despite winning nothing but the odd cup.  They have assembled team after team of under-performing prima-donna over the decades.  They have bitterly lived in the shadow of Arsenal (and now Chelsea too) for generations. 

Their fans (at least those at Kettering games) seem to think everyone is interested in how "wheeler-dealer" 'Onest Harry's team of crippled defenders and ex Portsmouth strikers are getting on.  At least I think they do, given the fact they are always shouting to each other about incidents 'dahn th' Lane'.  And now they've finally managed to finish high enough up the league to qualify for what is laughably called the Champions League, the local Spurs fan is like a dog with two dicks.  Suddenly they feel the need to jokily pontificate about the performance of lesser mortals.  

I'm more of a Heide Klum fan myself.....

I heard one of these footballing experts actually complain about shelling out £10 for the Wimbledon game.  This was a game where every one of our players ran, sweated and tried harder in one game than David Bentley will do in his entire career.  All these armchair Spursaholics could do, in their completely non-London accents, was moan that our players weren't as talented as the Tottenham ones, presuming, of course that they conveniently didn't include Pavyluchenko or Palacios in this determination.....

If you don't like supporting your local team no one is actually stopping you boorish Cock(erils) from shelling out 40 notes for trainfair and a further 50 or 60 on a ticket to watch the third best team in North London fritter away their season once Harry gets banged up, and Joe Jordan is put in charge.

Gertcha!

Football's not life and death

Regardless of the result against a moderate Wimbledon we must remember that there is more to life than football.  More important than another 3 points lost at home is the catalogue of potential injuries almost suffered by an away team.  Some caused by diving, some by rolling around, whilst others simply imagined - they all had the potential to have hurt.  A bit. 

Special mention must go to the Wimbledon physiotherapist who valiantly managed to waste precious minutes treating pretend injuries in a professional manner.

We are just thankful that 'keeper Brown lives to play another day after surviving a torrid afternoon of imagined challenges suffered by, or more accurately in his head.

National Statistics Relating to Head Trauma in the UK during 2010

Football - it isn't worth a man's life (or, seemingly his self-respect), even if he is a f**king cheat!

That Sinking Feeling

I'll begin by saying that I didn't see the Wimbledon game. But in a way I feel I did. Tons of perspiration, very little inspiration, lots of possession, a penalty shout denied, opposition create a few good chances, we don't. End result: all too familiar.

Lee Harper is perhaps the most well-liked Poppies manager I can remember. Honest, decent, wears his heart on his sleeve. Everyone wishes him well and wants him to succeed. He was dealt a poor hand when he took over and bore it without complaint. For that reason the dwindling hard core have been unusually patient - recognising that he was operating in difficult circumstances.

But that was last season, and even then there were concerns that - tight budget or not - Lee wasn't making the best of it.

However in the summer he was given the backing to reshape the squad and we all hoped that this would deliver a better, more entertaining team. Instead, by bringing back several former players, Lee did little more than strengthen the feeling that his contacts book was missing a few pages. Meanwhile, the glaring lack of service to the strikers remained unaddressed.

And everything since has just felt so predictable. We knew some of the opening games would be tricky, but they were last year too and after the same number of matches we had 12 points not 6. Looking ahead, it's difficult to see a run of fixtures that are easier than, say, Gateshead or home games against distinctly average sides like Rushden and Darlington. If we can't score against any of them, why will it be any different against Tamworth or Forest Green?

After each disappointing home result Lee has talked about working hard to put it right only for the same pattern to repeat itself. Worryingly, he has also slipped into the beleaguered manager's trap of blaming match officials or bad luck, whilst talking up our performances to a level that strains credibility.

Lee - whatever the plan is, it's not working mate. Unless we find a combination or method that creates more than half chances and a reliance on set pieces (poorly executed) we are in for a relegation scrap. Unless you have the solution, please - being the decent man you are - accept that you gave it your best shot but someone else may do better and move aside. No one wants to see you sacked but it seems to be heading that way.

Something rotten in the state of Crawley

Take the following ingredients, add together and see if there's anyway you think this cake will turn out well: -

• A large dollop of convicted fraudster Steve Evans
• A dash of Crawley Town who were in Administration in 2006 and subject to a winding-up order in February 2010.
• A generous helping of unknown "investors".
• The liberal sprinkling of a whole new squad, including six expensive strikers, with Richard Brodie rumoured to have cost upwards of £300,000 himself.

Ordinarily we would have waited until we played Crawley to start sticking the knife in, but, given that we aren't due to come up against these Non-League Galacticos until January, we thought it best not to wait until then and miss our chance!

Steve, with friend.

We just hope that when the shit hits the fan that the players don't try to pass themselves off as innocent parties.  They've all stuck their noses deep into this gravy train, knowing full well that their money isn't coming from a sustainable source.  They probably can't believe their luck, and intend to fill their boots until the bubble bursts, and then grab everything that isn't nailed down shortly thereafter!

Mind you, we all know that Steve Evans's name is a byword for honest financial dealings.  We recall the case of the seemingly innocent or should that be simple Ken Charlery when he played under Evans at Boston.  He was paid a signing on fee of £15,000 in readies and £620.00 per week.  A contract he signed and which was registered with the League was a teensy bit different in that it didn't mention any signing-on fee, and gave his wages at £120.00 per week.  A typo, surely?  The Courts decided differently!

What price AFC Crawley playing in the West Susses Senior League this time next year and Evans coaching the Wormwood Scrubs team?

Patgod on Tour - Rock n Roll Part 1

Settle, North Yorkshire

Patgod Issue Ten - Flying Start to the 1990-91 Season Continues!

With doom, gloom and gnashing of teeth the order of the day at Rockingham Road in 2010 we thought we'd transport you back, via Issue 10 of PATGOD, to the magical Winter of 1990.  The club, under the flamboyant tenure of "Smiling" Peter Morris, and under the prudent financial guidance of "Uncle" Cyril Gingell was flying high in the League after a 15 match unbeaten run.

Mouthwatering Football League fixtures at exotic places like Mansfield, Cambridge, Grimsby, Darlington and Luton were within our grasp....

In this unprecedented 28-page edition, we all bask in a festive cavalcade of merriment, secure in the knowledge that nothing could stop us taking our rightful place in the Football League!