Plenty of Grounds for Optimism

I think we can all agree that it has been quite a jolly, bumper-wheeze to see the Poppies back on the television and becoming part of the national footballing conversation once again.  A few bob in the bank and Luca's headed equaliser at the Cobblers on constant loop on the old Betamax.  It's fair to say that we would have all taken the current situation at the start of the season. 

An unexpected downside of our exposure though is the introduction of Latimer Park and it's limitations to a wider public.  We all know and mostly accept that our home isn't the greatest footballing temple in existence, but I certainly could do without my armchair Premier-league watching Boss weighing in with his ill-informed two-penneth.  This despite the fact that he has actually visited the club once when we managed to wangle a match-sponsorship out of our company bosses several years ago.  My boss turned up in a silk shirt and light jacket for a January fixture and ended-up watching the second-half of the game from the warmth of the match-sponsor's room.  And this was before we had the excellent Club 1872 facility we enjoy today.  Back then it was a cramped little room stuck away in a corner office

My boss had plenty of opinions of the televised games, our players, our facilities and particularly our pitch.  To be fair, he spoke well of a number of our players, suggesting they MUST be pretty good to be able to play on the Burton bobble-patch.  Ha-bloody-ha.

But, it got me thinking.  As I mentioned earlier, WE kind of accept Latimer Park for it's faults because we also see all the good things there and we know how much the ground and facilities have improved in the dozen years we've been here.  The Social Club at LP is a far better bar and certainly far better utilised than the Tin Hat ever was at Rockingham Road.  And, even though we'll never have a main stand to compare with the leviathan we had at Rockingham Road, we must have had almost as many seats at Latimer Park for the recent Doncaster cup game! 

But it wasn't until I found the images I've included in this article that I truly realised how much Latimer Park has been improved over the years from a literal field to a ground that has hosted National North football.  Some are from THAT play-off final with Slough, when we realised just how many people you could fit around a roped off pitch, while others show the ground in all of it's arboreal glory!  And, how bare was the Morrisons Hill back in the day?  It looks a bit wilder now!

Hamish Remembered

News of the passing of Hamish Young will have saddened a lot of Poppies fans of a certain vintage. The words larger than life appeared in many an online comment, and he was certainly that. Noisy, passionate, abrasive, funny, thin skinned and big hearted, he was all of these things. For a number of years he was unmissable in or around Rockingham Road.  Everyone knew him and he knew everyone. Then one day he stopped coming to games and we never saw him again. Why? I imagined it was in umbrage at something or someone that had offended him. Not hard to imagine, if you knew Hamish. Probably completely wide of the mark.  But a real shame nonetheless because he was a big presence and left a lot of fond memories.

Saturdays on a Travel Club coach run by Hamish were often far more fun than the actual match we were off to see. On pulling up in the football club car park, Hamish would loom at the coach’s doorway, vast belly under a replica top, and greet boarding passengers with a mix of warmth and genial abuse. From front to back the bus had its micro communities. Closest to the driver sat Hamish, up in his cockpit. Across the aisle, Joan and Bet, the hooligrans, regularly teased by Hamish with remarks that would make Gregg Wallace blush. A few rows of respectable, generally older punters then we started to enter beer monster territory. Sometimes, briefly, a small pocket of normalcy in a group Hamish dubbed The Sophisticates (not a compliment), probably because they ate with a knife and fork, then we reached the back row of seats, the domain of the Inbred Village Idiot Faction (their words) led by DT, who by this point was thumbing the latest Good Beer guide for lunchtime ideas or had his head stuck in a railway mag.

Once safely along the winding journey to the M6 at Lutterworth (it was always Lutterworth, or felt like it) Hamish roamed the bus, dispensing badinage and body odour.  His armpits were a chemical weapon, used to neutralise dissent and deal with offenders. On one occasion I copped the treatment and from then on was a total choirboy. By noon the bus was disgorging its load in a small market town where the pubs were about to see a surge in takings, then there was a game of football, then the journey home began.

I think it was returning from Gateshead that I first had the pleasure of sharing a meal with Hamish. It was fancy dress day on the bus and he was of course dressed as Father Christmas, though not the sort you’d find in a grotto. The long journey south was broken at Retford, and whilst DT and crew went off to sink a few more ales a few of us located a curry house. There Hamish performed his party trick: order two different curries, mix them together into a giant spicy porridge, form mouth into tube and ingest.  The resulting sound was like industrial slurry disappearing up a vacuum pump.  Not for the fastidious!

These Travel Club curries became a regular feature and livened up many a homeward journey. Hamish of course loved them, because the one thing previously missing from his perfect day out was a mountain of nosh. This is perhaps surprising, as in all other respects he was an excellent organiser. He took the TC from strength to strength across several seasons, sometimes running two or even three coaches to cope with demand. Then there were the big FA Cup away days, when the Cattle Market saw 20 or more lined up under the Travel Club banner. All went smoothly and to plan.

No trip was complete without Hamish having a brush with someone in authority.  It must have been his classic Caledonian persecution complex. Things that you or I might meekly shrug off rather than make a fuss, Hamish saw as an absolute line in the sand. A typical example was at Yeovil on our first trip to what was then their new ground. The away end had yellow lines to mark gangways. Being unfamiliar with such things on what was just a normal open terrace, we stood on them until being ordered not to by the stewards. All except Hamish, who raged at this nonsensical rule and kept at it for so long, WE were begging them to throw him out!

He certainly called it right with Mark English, seeing through this gobby wide boy from early on and throwing his personality into rallying opposition, including through those tense days until we knew if we still had a club left to support. Had he stuck around, I think Hamish would also have made short work of Ladak and his Nene Park mirage.

So RIP Hamish, a legend in your own (extended) lunchtime and a big part of what made KTFC enjoyable back in the day. A lot of us would settle for even a fraction of that.   

The big man as we'll always remember him

(with thanks to Paul Cooke for the photo, and apologies for cropping him out!)

Doncaster Unpacked

Yep ok, it would have been amazing to pull off another win to reach Round 3, but could our heads (and wallets) have handled another 6 weeks of giddy anticipation?  Could Allez Allez Oh t-shirt sales have met demand or would we be sending out to China for another shipment? Would going to Hull have made all that less of an issue? Whatever, think of the emotional crash landing when it was finally over, the Christmas decorations had come down, Blue Monday was looming and it’s Redditch away next week!

The run was exciting, huge fun and all the better for being far beyond anyone’s expectations, but it’s probably best that it’s over at this point. Getting lucky with two televised games plus all the spin off benefits has probably earned us as much as a decent 3^rd round draw, plus rebooted wider interest in the club. Going further could potentially have been a distraction when it will now be a major disappointment if this season doesn’t end in promotion.

But before packing away our tinfoil FA Cups until the next time, a few thoughts on a day when everyone associated with KTFC did themselves proud and Billy Sharp did not.

Off the pitch

Preparing Latimer Park for easily its biggest day so far was no mean feat. There was no crib sheet from previous occasions where we hosted live tv, a capacity crowd and VIP guests at what is still, despite many improvements, a distinctly unglamorous field of dreams chiefly known for mud and bobbles. Everyone involved had a planning challenge that I think we can say was fully met.

Some recent practice at getting there early paid off, with no particular congestion.  The ground was filling up a full hour before kick off, leaving fans plenty of time to discuss exciting new features such as portaloos, extra seats and an actual working scoreboard created solely to record aggregate Cup goals since the 19^th century. A most unusual idea, somebody must think it’s significant somehow. We also very much enjoyed speculating on whether the cameraman atop the Tin Hat, almost overhanging the pitch, would be dinged off his perch by a wild attempt on goal.   

 New to Latimer Park, Alex reflects on her brave wardrobe choice

Everything seemed to work about as well as it could have done, so huge credit to the officials plus army of volunteers who pulled it off. However you know how it is. You try to think of everything, then the game very nearly gets under way with two orange training goalposts still firmly stuck in the hallowed turf. Obviously left there by the Doncaster warm up crew - we may only be part time, but we do some things better.  The referee didn’t notice (not the last thing he failed to spot), the nearby lino didn’t either, nor any of the players.  Had an early ball down the wing encountered the same poles covering the left back position it could have been a viral moment. Training apparatus stops play - another first for the mighty Poppies!

As for the classic cup tie ingredient of a roaring atmosphere, somehow the memo didn’t reach Doncaster. Back when Donny visited Rockingham Road a few times in the late 90s/early 00s, their fans had that extra volume that you only usually heard from pro clubs temporarily down with the likes of us. This lot mostly watched in silence.  On the other hand, the home fans gave it their all. Maybe a good chunk of them were new or returning faces but they certainly sounded like they cared, which is half the battle. 

Memories are made of this

Now what counts is how many come back again. 2,000 against Biggleswade on Boxing Day?  Why not?  Lavs seems to have the knack of willing certain crowd sizes into being, so go for it.  One of the many good things to come out of the cup run is that the idea of a large crowd squeezing into LP no longer feels (a) highly unlikely or (b) a big logistical headache.  We’ve had a crash course in how to manage it, both as a club and as paying punters. Ideal preparation for our return to the next level!

On the pitch

Our hustling style of play against opponents who were expected to be faster and fitter, combined with the heavy pitch, must have been exhausting and in extra time we ran out of gas, but what an effort. A very good team at this level met a good team from 3 leagues higher. The result was closer than it might have been, we competed to the very last minute, no one left an ounce of sweat in the tank, as supporters we couldn’t ask for more. Maybe the one disappointment was that our celebrated ex Premier League trio didn’t pose enough of a scoring threat, though they didn’t exactly spurn easy chances. Jonny Edwards with something to prove would have been interesting, but it’s academic. He wasn’t available.   

Controversial opinion alert**  Isiah was quite clearly the player of the match. He not only scored the best goal, he rampaged all over, harried, tackled, won the ball, fell over, lost the ball, chased, extended a telescopic limb, won it back, and kept driving forward until he dropped or, in Sharp’s case, was elbowed. He was incredible. Even collapsing in pain and having to hobble off was just a temporary lull. What desire from the young man. We have an absolute diamond here. The fact he wasn’t picked as MoM is just one of those weird quirks, like Joe Dolce keeping Vienna off the top of the charts. I imagine Troy Deeney was somehow involved in rigging that too, which is probably not what actually happened, but let’s assume he was. Sharp did what good strikers are paid to do but was a total dick with it, whereas Isiah is so likeable you want to give him a big fat hug.

So very well played, rest up, bank the good memories and go out there and win this bloody league.