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.

A good old fashioned, British moan

A pre-article addendum to this piece.  Following third-party communications with George we are content to accept and confirm there appears to be nothing untoward in the club's dealings with Alumasc about their carpark, which is good news and the funds donated are going to towards maintenance of the carpark.  

We'd like George and the new board to know, that despite much evidence to the contrary, Patgod doesn't exist purely to antagonise club officials.  Except Ken Samuel of course.  Particularly we aren't looking to upset new owners who have thus far done an excellent job.  George, Nadiya and Fabian have truly breathed new life into the Poppies.  

It's not unreasonable, however, to question things from time to time.  And what is happening with the carparking is a subject being discussed by supporters.  KTFC Chat is often a good outlet for such questions.  Sometime Patgod is better, particularly if the article spins onto several paragraphs. With the additional details listed above, we have left the original article as originally written - mainly because we wanted to ensure we still included the thanks expressed to Alumasc for their continued generous help over the years.  

Just to remind everyone, we always offer a fair right to reply to anyone who wishes to engage with us or may feel slighted by something we've written.  Unless you come from Rushden of course.  Or Corby.  Or are related in any way to Nicky Muttall.

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 Looking back over the past few months Patgod seems to have accidentally strayed into the territory of all-out positivity.  And it's taking it's toll on us.  It is wearing being so bonny and bouncy all of the time.  Time for a bit of a gripe.  Not about fairweather Glory-hunters wanting to stand where I usually stand.  Not about the FA Cup ticketing pandemonium.  Not even about the old stanbys of the price of beer and admittance. 

No, this is more of a peculiarly British moan.  About roads.  And fair play.

It can't have escaped anybody's notice who uses the Alumasc carpark that we are now being encouraged to make a donation for the privilege.  Let's be honest, without Alumasc's generous loan of their carpark the Poppies matchday experience would be an even more fraught endeavour.  What with the rapidly shrinking amount of on-street parking and numerous locals who seem to believe they own any road they can see from their front windows, it's no fun on the mean streets of Burton.  Had Alumasc asked for a small contribution for the use of their facility from Day One very few would have complained.

However, I doubt our voluntary fiscal contributions are reaching Alumasc and one is forced to consider, if this is the case, how comfortable it sits to make money from their generosity?  Is it ethical?  Is it legal?  Not only that, but during the past couple of visits there has been a definite sense that payment is less voluntary than EXPECTED and expected to be a couple of quid.  One is left with the distinct impression that, before long, the voluntary element of any contribution will be dropped in favour of an admittance fee.  Sure, other clubs do this.  But I'm pretty sure no one else is levying a charge for a carpark they don't actually own.

And what is being done with the money so far raised?  It certainly isn't been used to fill that ridiculously enormous hole in the carpark just outside of the social club that has quietly been growing this season from the size of large dinnerplate to the size of a small continent.  I'm not certain the BBC will be too impressed if one of their technical vehicles pops a crank-shaft into it's fathomless depths next weekend....

The Referee navigates the Latimer Park
carpark with greater intent than
he did the Latimer Park pitch

Fascinating Facts About Doncaster

Up until recently (well 2011!) Patgod used to introduce the following week's opponents with articles titled "Fascinating Facts About (insert opponents name here).  Curiously this fluffy piece of half-researched nonsense fell from favour when we stopped playing teams like York City, Wrexham, Mansfield and Cambridge in favour of teams like Arlesey,  North Greenford United and, of course, Chalfont St Peters.  There was only so many times we could bring ourselves to either lean heavily on Wikipedia or even make up shite about places the size of Thrapston that were expected to give us a good thumping a few day later.

Never afraid to dust off a hoary old chestnut in the chase for the blue tick on "The Musk 4 Trump Network", we present some guff about the hometown of our FA Cup opponents, Doncaster.

• Like Kettering, Doncaster traces it's history through Roman and Anglo-Saxon periods.  They were granted a charter to hold a market in 1248, fully 21 years after we'd been granted ours.  In your face Doncaster you Johnny-Come-Latelys!  Chances are that their market today eclipses our small cluster of stands selling old vinyl, out-of-season clothing and eye-wateringly-expensive posh loaves.
• Doncaster Airport is home to the last Vulcan bomber to fly.  This is the Vulcan that buzzed Rockingham Road about 15 years ago and by doing so almost won that season's  Player of the Year vote.
• At the time of writing Doncaster has two theatres and two cinemas.  This is likely to be two more of each than Kettering in a month's time.
• The phrase "Earl of Doncaster" was shorthand in the first season of "The Blackadder" for homosexual.  

Doncaster is the birthplace of numerous famous faces, including: -

• Bubble-permed former footballing great, Kevin Keegan
• Car f**ker, and selfless defender of millionaires in wellies everywhere - Jeremy Clarkson
• A still living former member of One Direction
• Alleged comedy writer Roy (Last of the Summer Wine) Clarke
• Loveable goggly-eyed Emma Chambers from The Vicar of Dibley.  An actually funny comedy
• Soprano Lesly Garrett, basically a third rate version of Faryl Smith (isn't it about time we got her back to a Poppies game and actually let her sing this time?)
• Professional shouter and sometime actor Brian Blessed, star of the previously mentioned "The Blackadder", which contrary to perceived wisdom, was the second best season of Blackadder after Blackadder II.

Looking back at these articles we were struck by the number that gratuitously included photographs of attractive women who just happened to have been born in the towns or cities we were honouring.  Or lived there.  Or visited.  Any excuse really to include a pretty face.  Obviously, in these more enlightened times we naturally draw back from such obvious and needless titillation.  In other news, here's another actor originally from Doncaster, though thanks to Received Pronunciation and years at the RSC, you wouldn't know it - the lithe and lovely Diana Rigg.  Former Avenger, Bond girl and latterly co-star of The Detectorists.  Another funny comedy.

Telford Day Redux

Long time readers will know the shorthand for an unexpected and quite shattering turnover in front of a big home crowd.  Just utter the phrase Telford Day and instantly it communicates something that will evoke shudders down the years.  Having minted the description, we found plenty of occasions to use it!

It got to the point where Telford Day decided to retire itself in protest at our tumble through the divisions. To the point where a ‘big’ home crowd was one in which you couldn’t be sure of your favourite spot if arriving one minute before kickoff.

Eventually Telford Day decided to make a comeback. However, in a twist on the old format, it chose to reinvent itself as an absolute shellacking by a former Conference rival, rudely emphasising how far we had fallen.

The pilot episode of Telford Day II: Mission Impossible was last season, when a Bucks team eyeing the playoffs strolled to the easiest of 4-0 wins.  Given our previous form, almost an above par outcome.  

That would probably have been that, had we not lived to fight another day in this division, but no one back then could have foreseen Telford Day III: Resurrection.

It was about time this tired old franchise had a complete reboot, and kudos to the new production team because the latest version is a massive improvement.

Spoiler alert for anyone who hasn’t yet seen the full recording, but whilst the concept remains Kettering v Telford, the format is turned on its head. Inspired casting delivers a versatile ensemble who can run, pass, defend AND score, in the process inflicting a demoralising beating. But this time it’s not the team in white!

Enough said. Five stars!!   

Coming to a ground near you soon

Two words. Miserable Sod!

An unexpected downside of live TV coverage of the Poppies is the possibility of being introduced to millions of viewers as a miserable sod.  

Worse still, numerous friends and relatives who know you to be a frothy, fun and happening guy, overflowing with wit and jollity, see what you look like when "enjoying" the Poppies.  And then tell you how miserable you look via numerous WhatsApp messages and BBC freeze-frames of you looking oh-so glum.

We can't all be gurningly-grinning bundles of annoyingly bouncy positivity like Vince. but bloody hell, how f*cking miserable did I come across on the telly?

Miserable Sod

Digging deep for victory, but otherwise miserable

Wearing a hat.  A miserable hat

God knows.

 

Catching up on emails.  Miserably.

Keeping up to date with Strictly Come Dancing

Silvano finally has enough of my grimness
and steps in armed with his usual overflowing
bounce and brazen cheerfulness and just about
manages to coax a reluctant smile