Logistics of my larger life outside this blog has required that I stay in Manchester for the last few weeks and I’ve been to two games in that time that looked intriguing on paper.
Curzon Ashton of the National League North hosting the mighty Mansfield Town sitting in League One had all the markings of a huge cupset in the making in the FA Cup 1st round proper, so off I went. After all who wouldn’t love to document such a brilliant underdog story.
The only problem with this glorious plan was that it was dependant on the hosts turning up, playing well and winning. They failed on all 3 counts…
Even before the ref killed off the slim hopes of a contest with a 15th minute red card, that was soft as butter on a hot plate in the middle of an Arizonian summer, the Nash were being ripped to shreds by the visiting Stags.
As soon as the Stags converted the penalty that accompanied the dismissal all hopes of an upset crumbled into dust, but I still had another 75 minutes to last in the freezing conditions.
Surviving that surrounded by home fans infuriated by both the red card and watching their team submit meekly to a 4-0 defeat.
Whilst Mansfield moved on to an all League One 2nd round tie at Stevenage I headed just down the road to the Etihad stadium 6 days later hoping for a more exciting and competitive match. I was to be desperately disappointed by what I found at that sparsely populated arena, the home of Man City being an admittedly foolish venue to visit hoping for an gripping encounter
I hadn’t been to a WSL match in so long that I’d forgotten that there are only 4 teams that have any hope of winning matches and Spurs aren’t one of them.
I was about to get an in-depth memory refresher when Kadija ‘Bunny’ Shaw gave the hosts the lead a mere 23seconds after the first whistle by pouncing on a schoolgirl error in the visiting defence.
City had doubled their lead earlier than Curzon had been reduced in number at the weekend and by the time Sandy Magiver doubled her brace less than 30 seconds after Jill Roord had snaffled the host’s third the game was well and truly over.
This time it was the visitors heading home with their tails between their legs and straight into a home humiliation by their big North London rivals.
As soon as that first goal nestled in the net I knew I was in for a 2nd dud game of the week and I haven’t been back to a stadium since.
I go to football for the unpredictability and an atmosphere I can lose myself in, both of which have been in shockingly short supply recently. This weekend I had opportunities to see a new stadium, an offer I rarely pass up, but with the Mazuma Stadium home a Shrimps team sinking faster than a dropped anchor into the Mariana trench of non-league I knew the result to be a home loss already and had no desire to travel so far just for another one of those.
As you may have guessed having read this far, my passion for the beautiful game is hanging by a thread at the moment and the blog is suffering as a consequence.
This is a passion project that brings me no financial rewards and thus rests entirely on that passion.
I am giving myself another chance to rekindle that passion with back to back Brentford games as November gives way to December’s darkness. Over to you my Beloved Bees.
The Football tourist 