In the last month I have visited two grounds to watch live football. Chelsea’s Stamford Bridge and York City’s Bootham Crescent.

They were very different experiences that were both enjoyable for their own reasons. Chelsea was a footballing feast. The slick passing and penetrating pace of the game was world-class. The last time I had seen football that good was at the same ground over a year before.

York City however, brought something to the football experience Chelsea arguably will never be able to again.

Atmosphere.

York City’s Bootham Crescent is far from a cauldron of noise. The average attendance is around the 3,000 mark and much of the noise comes in the form of groans and idle chat about what the team are doing wrong.

But what the smaller club has never lost is the sense of community. You recognise those around you from the local chippy and if you go to an away game the same faces pop up outside the turnstiles. They are the city folk devoutly giving their time and money to their football club no matter what will occur on the pitch that day.

There has been a debate about the price of football rumbling on for a long time now, which is starting to come to a head as Liverpool fans staged a walk out mid-match the other week, whilst Manchester United fans have also been protesting to name but two.

Football at the end of the day, has become a business. Prices are changing and consequently the clientele able to attend along with it. But more alarmingly for the purists amongst us, the grounds are changing.

The prices continue to escalate and it’s not right, it is billionaires bleeding the working class dry. But somehow, so many shift their finances and continue to honour their season tickets, as is the importance of their football clubs in their lives.

But for me, where the trouble really starts, is stadium alteration. Club after club has either moved ground or have planning permission in place for expansion. Even if the faithful ever-presents have painstakingly raised their funds to still attend, in a larger ground you begin to dilute them.

More corporate seats are created, specially cushioned for the tailor-made suit of the casual businessman, invited as a courtesy to observe the match rather than be involved in it. That, of course, is only if those seats are filled. It seems unlikely that on any occasion the club or chairman will feel the need to invite a few thousand at their pleasure, so the majority of seats created sit there staring emptily at those across the way in the stand opposite.

Take The Emirates Stadium, home to Arsenal, and The Etihad Stadium, home to Manchester City. Both used to play at compact old-fashioned stadiums with bags of atmosphere. Arsenal’s Highbury housed 38,419 as opposed to their new home’s 60,432 capacity. But ask any true Arsenal fan where they were happier? Highbury.

Manchester City’s Maine Road was an institution in English football before it was torn down in favour of the soulless Etihad, that half empties with 80 minutes on the clock so that people can avoid the traffic.

At York City you pay £18 to stand behind the goal at the David Longhurst End. Granted, for the football you get that is still an inflated price. But you are not paying for just the football, you are paying for that warmth many will remember from the 80s and 90s. The unwavering camaraderie and catch up with a stranger you see once a fortnight over a half-time cup of tea at a greasy spoon cafe price.

Chelsea have plans to expand their stadium, but the atmosphere left South West London a long time ago. Tickets are sold as a tourist attraction, a chance to don some blue for the night and take some photos to scan through on the flight back home.

The days of Highbury and Maine Road have been and gone. Soon West Ham’s Upton Park will follow, and even Liverpool’s iconic Anfield is set to change for the worse. Tottenham’s White Hart Lane is to be left, another great ground of the English tradition.

Alas, even York City are to move. The beautiful home of the Minstermen, placed intricately between rows of houses within a stone’s throw of the city centre is to be bulldozed for further housing to be built for incoming residents.

York will move to a new Community Stadium on the ring road. Not a soul will be able to walk to the game, and it shall be a multiplex with swimming pool to boot. With a capacity of 8,000 whether it can maintain the atmosphere I speak so fondly of remains to be seen.

But for now at least, the modern fan is being forced to make a choice. Pay the big bucks for the big boys, or like an older footballer, prepare to prioritise what matters and drop down the divisions for that Saturday afternoon you grew up loving so much.

Ever spotted your girlfriend subtly glancing at another man? Or perhaps the most hateful guy in the pub giving it a go at the bar whilst you nip to the toilet.

Inevitably, you fall out and a beautiful relationship comes to an end. You gave it a go twice, but this time she is gone. Free to do as she pleases, be with whoever she wants.

Welcome to the Mourinho saga.

Jose’s relationship with Chelsea was tempestuous. Put together a pair of egos such as those of Mourinho and Abramovich, and it was always going to be. Like the couple you see in a blazing rage waiting for the train who you cannot help but look at. They clashed continually.

Why it didn’t quite work this time no one knows. Mourinho lost the dressing room, which in football sees the axe wielded immediately.

There have been rumours of club doctor Eva Carneiro rocking the boat after their fallout, some of the men turning their allegiance to her. Sexual interest for some or pure moral obligation? We shall never know.

Whatever the truth turns out to be, the formula suddenly failed. For the fans, it was time to lament. The golden boy had finally pushed the board too far.

Chelsea had lost a legend of the club, no doubt about that. Like the moment Gianfranco Zola decided to hang his boots up, or when Frank Lampard sought an easier life on Stateside .

But this was a breakup, not a retirement. The Special One was now considered normal.

There is one moment that sticks in the mind of true Mourinho fans. The completion of the 2005 campaign saw the club win their first title in 50 years. Lampard charged towards the away end of the Reebok Stadium, hands thrust in the air, having secured the league championship with his second goal of the game.

But Mourinho sat alone come full time. In the dugout, in tears on his phone to his wife. This was not a snub to the fans, this was him showing that family come first.

Since then, Chelsea fans have become his family. When he returned for his second term, he said as much and it seemed like he may never leave again.

However, as we all know, there is nothing more powerful than a family feud.

After the Special One was shown the door by the Blues, Manchester United’s eyes lit up.

For Jose, it was like the couple fighting by the train. A proud man, feeling like he had been dumped. The ultimate betrayal? The way to really hurt those who had the audacity to throw him out? Cuddle up to the enemy.

A chance to really put the boot back into those who had nurtured him. They had built an empire together after all.

In the eyes of the former Porto man, Roman Abramovich had maltreated him. After he gave them everything. He is the hottest property in football and had chosen Chelsea after all.

Like the squabbling couple at the station, the intention is obvious. Start a fight and the other will retaliate. Hit Roman where it hurts. If the Chelsea board don’t want him, then there are plenty who would.

Furthermore, there is the chance to outdo a fellow professional by going to Manchester, an unpleasant side of the Portuguese manager. Louis Van Gaal, the current United manager, was proven at Mourinho’s former stomping ground Barcelona. But it was a club where the former interpreter never felt appreciated. Arguably the only reason he ever spent his tenure at Real Madrid.

Do the job better than his predecessor? Cutting to say the least, and tempting.

Like a petulant single lover, Mourinho will storm into the arms of those who now want him and may appreciate him. It will hurt his former family, and yes it will work on a professional level.

But his heart? Remains with Chelsea.

There was little to show for the 52 league places between Hartlepool United and Salford City tonight as the two played out a blustery draw in the FA Cup on Friday night.

Broadcast live on the BBC, the match at Moss Lane was a sell-out with all 350 away tickets available being snapped up by Pools fans in less than two hours early last week.

Hartlepool eased any early nerves, taking the lead from the penalty spot after eight minutes. Young midfielder Rhys Oates jinxed into the Salford box before being brought down by the trailing foot of Andy Dawson. The 21-year-old birthday boy brushed himself off and took the spot kick himself, drilling the ball home comprehensively into the bottom left-hand corner. It was the first time a Hartlepool striker had found the net in 478 minutes of competitive football.

But Salford responded well and got a deserved equaliser on 23 minutes. A free kick from the left channel fell kindly for defender Stephen O’Halloran ten yards out, who struck the ball through a crowd with his weaker foot to net his first goal for his new club.

Rakish Bingham came on early in the second half to replace Mikael Mandron, the Sunderland striker once again failing to impress, and nearly made an immediate impact for United. The former Mansfield man pulled the ball back to Oates from the by-line, whose shot was blocked by what looked like a hand, before a fantastic drive from loan midfielder Jake Gray forced a stunning reflex save from Jay Lynch in the Salford goal.

With twenty minutes remaining, Bingham himself had a gilt-edged chance to get on the scoresheet. A free kick delivered in by Gray was headed back across goal by captain Karl Magnay onto the head of Bingham. But the Pools’ number nine could only scoop it over the bar from 5 yards out.

Salford continued to hold their own and assured that Trevor Carson had his wits about him on 75 minutes. Captain Chris Lynch struck a pile driver from range that tossed and turned in the wind, forcing the Northern Irish keeper to back pedal and tip it over the bar.

Striker Scott Fenwick had a golden opportunity to steal the victory with less than ten minutes to go after being picked out by an excellent Oates cross, but the former Durham City man got his header completely wrong from a matter of yards out.

Hartlepool go into the 3^rd round draw alongside Sunderland and Newcastle United, but will have to do it all again in ten days’ time for the right to progress any further.

 

 

 

 

Bouncing after back-to-back wins at Victoria Park, Hartlepool seemed to have a spring in their step this afternoon. It was either that or a desperate attempt to keep warm on an unforgivingly grim day in the North East.

Wins against Cheltenham Town and Leyton Orient had relinquished any stigma that Pools were incapable in front of their home faithful and the memory of eight winless games in all competitions at The Vic had since withered away, making space for a more optimistic outlook.

Hartlepool should have been the fresher of the two teams, having had their game at Accrington postponed on Tuesday due to a waterlogged pitch. Oxford United meanwhile, today’s visitors, struggled to contain a Newport County side at home who are sitting below Hartlepool in League Two.

Oxford have had a busy yet fruitful campaign thus far. Sitting second in the table, the U’s are one of the favourites for promotion and are still involved in the FA Cup and Johnstone’s Paint Trophy as December festively looms.

In recent weeks however, clashes with relegation-threatened Dagenham & Redbridge and newly-replenished Newport have proved far from straightforward for United, the yellows picking up 4 points with just two goals. Their previous outing before these was against non-league Braintree, after the minnows took them to an FA cup replay.

Perhaps it was this that had Pools expecting more than the table suggested, or perhaps it was the fact that Hartlepool defeated the U’s last time they met at the Kassam Stadium back in March.

Mikael Mandron, the Sunderland AFC loanee, retained his place for his third start in as many games. Having been awarded Man of the Match on his debut, the Black Cat was substituted during a disappointing loss to Mansfield Town last time out and would be looking to impress the home fans again. Rhys Oates also returned to the starting lineup, whilst former York City man Michael Duckworth got his first start since recovering from injury.

Strikers Scott Fenwick and Rakish Bingham were left on the bench, meaning Ronnie Moore had gone for a new formation. A 4-1-4-1, with Mandron leading the line alone.

The game was a tight affair with individual battles aplenty in the midfield, but Hartlepool appeared the more penetrative against the opposition’s back four.

From the opening minute, a drilled drive from Pools midfielder Nicky Featherstone whistled past the top corner, shortly followed by a looping header from unmarked captain Carl Magnay that the U’s keeper was mightily relieved to see trickle past the wrong side of the post.

Just before the half hour mark, Hartlepool were unlucky not to take the lead. A Naismith free kick down the left wing was punched away by Oxford keeper Benjamin Buchel to Jake Gray on the edge of the area. The Crystal Palace man expertly controlled the ball in the air with his back to goal, before turning and driving a looping volley that rattled back off the crossbar.

With loanees Naismith and Gray dictating the midfield, it was Middlesbrough’s U21 starlet Adam Jackson’s turn to come close. Just before half time, a corner from Naismith fell to the young defender whose controlled volley was unlucky not to find the bottom corner.

Hartlepool were edging it but had nothing to show for it.

The second half started as the first had ended, becoming ever-increasingly physical as frustration crept into both sides.

It took until the 57th minute for a clear-cut chance to fall, and it was to the feet of that man Mandron. After a clever one-two with Gray, the Sunderland striker was through on goal with his skipper on the overlap.

Desperate to break his duck for Pools, he decided to go alone, his right footed strike just inside the area hitting the oncoming keeper. A simple drop of the shoulder either way should have floored the keeper and left an empty net, but the young striker showed his age and inexperience through his indecision. Something his manager spoke about after the game.

Oxford were creeping back into it and after the hour mark, striker Pat Hoban came close. Turning cleverly inside the box, the talisman lost his marker and struck across goal. Just wide.

Minutes later, Oxford came close again, forcing a double save from keeper Trevor Carson. A free kick from 25 yards out was drilled at goal and spilt by Carson as it swerved towards him. Hogan got to the loose ball first but the Northern Irishman smartly got his body in the way.

Right on the 70 minute mark, Oxford’s pressure and persistence paid off. Alex MacDonald tore down the right wing before whipping an inch-perfect pass into the path of substitute Danny Hylton. The striker strolled onto the pass and side-footed a beautiful volley into the opposite bottom corner, before antagonising the home support by clasping his hands around his ears in celebration.

With time against them, Moore changed to Pools’ more familiar 4-4-2 formation, striker Bingham replacing Oates, and winger Kudus Oyenuga also coming into the fray in place of playmaker Gray.

The effect was instant, Oyenuga passing inside to Mandron, who expertly held the ball up (as he had done all afternoon) for substitute Brad Walker whose shot narrowly looped over the bar.

Oxford again replied, Liam Sercombe breaking away down the right before demanding a world class save from Carson in the Pools goal who diverted the ball just wide when it looked destined to double Oxford’s lead.

End to end stuff at The Vic.

Hylton came close again but was adjudged offside for Oxford, whilst Bingham blasted over for Pools. Another scramble in the box ensued and Oyenuga this time erratically clearing the bar, Moore’s utter disgust on the sideline clear for all to see. It didn’t appear to be the Pools’ day.

Boos unfairly rang out at full time from quarters of the crowd. Hartlepool had returned to their losing ways, but the manner of defeat was entirely different. An energetic midfield had dominated at times and the result was far from a fair reflection of what had been an entertaining contest. The only difference, illustrated in the league table, was that the visitors were clinical. Hartlepool meanwhile, and Mandron in particular, were not.

Oxford go to the summit of the league whilst Hartlepool drop to twentieth.

Half an hour before kick off on an overcast afternoon in Hartlepool, the mood amongst the United fans was that of scepticism.

Tuesday’s 1-1 draw with Barnet had seen the Pools extend their run of home games without a win to six, after spurning an early lead in a well-fought contest which saw a hatful of chances come and go.

Crawley Town were todays visitors, another team struggling at the wrong end of the League Two table, starting today’s proceedings two points behind the Monkey Hangers.

So used to playing in the shadow of the Premier League, today’s fixture felt like a supporting act at best in the North East area with Sunderland and Newcastle’s Super Sunday clash being the “water-cooler conversation” of the week. But the game itself was well attended, with 3,262 making the trip to Victoria Park (87 of whom had made the long haul up from Sussex).

With Sunderland just twenty five minutes north on the train, there was a suspicion that some heads in the seaside town could turn towards the Sky Sports blockbuster on Sunday. But there is no denying that the two corresponding fixtures offer valuable experiences no matter what the standard on the pitch and the match day attendance reflected that.

I spoke to five Scandinavians outside the ground who had come over specially for both games this weekend.

“We came here (Hartlepool) to see a little bit of British” said Martin, the one Norwegian of the group.

“The people selling the tickets are local kids, it feels more genuine.”

I spoke to local fan Robert from Seaton, about whether it made a difference when the Pools played on a different day to the Tyne & Wear teams.

“Definitely, without a doubt. You could have a better quality of games at Newcastle, Middlesbrough, you’re not gonna pay that much more really. But it’s more for the kids (Hartlepool), definitely.”

The atmosphere inside the ground lacked the positivities I had heard in the surrounding streets. BBC Sussex described Victoria Park as “absolutely dead, a bit like a pre-season friendly” after the Pools left the pitch at half time to a chorus of boos.
The first half had unceremoniously passed, with the home side highly fortunate to not to concede on several occasions.

It took 64 minutes for the game to come alive, but it did so in dramatic style. A brisk Crawley attack saw Hartlepool keeper Trevor Carson make a clever save from striker Rhys Murphy before the rebound struck defender Scott Harrison on the arm.

The red was hastily brandished and the disconsolate defender made his way to the showers, shaking his head as he dredged off the pitch. To add insult to injury, former Hartlepool midfielder Simon Walton was the man to step up, and he confidently drilled the penalty home to the keeper’s right.

Cries of “1-0 to the referee” rang out, and the decision was certainly a contentious one. With the ball moving at pace, Harrison made no deliberate movement of his arm towards the ball and Hartlepool intimated after the game that an appeal was being considered.

It went from bad to worse 11 minutes later as Town made it 0-2. An astute cross from midfielder Gwion Edwards after some clever build-up play saw Murphy race in again, wrapping his right foot round the ball and finding the near corner with ease.

79 minutes on the clock and 10-man Hartlepool finally got a foot in the game. A corner from the right hand side was met by the head of captain Billy Paynter, who whilst leaning back, looped the ball back across goal into the top right hand corner to make it 1-2.

Five minutes added time indicated by the fourth official brought the home crowd to life. A last-gasp effort from striker Rakish Bingham could have seen an unlikely comeback completed, but Crawley held on to a well-earned victory which saw them leapfrog the Pools in the League Two table.

It ended a frustrating afternoon all-round for Hartlepool, who really failed to get out of first gear until the 80th minute, awoken by one piece of brilliance by veteran captain Billy Paynter. Ronnie Moore held no punches in expressing his own feelings about the lacklustre performance.

“What annoys me more than anything else is how a set of professional footballers can actually put in a performance like that in the first 45 minutes” said the Hartlepool boss.

“There are some great talkers, but not many doers…today I think I found out some real answers to the question I already knew really about certain people, and I will not fall into that trap again.”

Ronnie Moore singled out Rhys Oates as the only player who he wouldn’t have taken off at half-time, and the striker-turned-winger was similarly perplexed by proceedings. When asked why the team seemed to struggle at home, the new man was at a loss to explain it.

“I don’t know whether it’s confidence, scared of playing in front of a home crowd, if it’s not going our way then people getting on our backs, but we should expect that really if we are not playing the way we should be playing.”

The result leaves the Pools 19th in League Two, trailing both Barnet and Crawley who have taken points away from Victoria Park this week.

Hartlepool will be hoping the FA Cup draw on Monday can hand them a home tie that could breath some much-needed confidence into Victoria Park.

Final Score: Hartlepool United 1, Crawley Town 2.

It’s 15 minutes to kick-off at Hartlepool United in League Two and the ground is beginning to fill.

The teams are called out over the tannoy to a single cheer from one exuberant fan in front of the press box. There’s no dance floor hits to arouse the fans at this level, instead a compilation of gentle hits more associated with your father’s old cassette player than the soundtrack to a Saturday night.

My thoughts fall to how I’ll get home. It’s Hartlepool on an October evening and the trains are bound to stop before the football does. “Get a lift with the keeper” comes the advice from a reporter, “He lives in Sunderland too.”

There’s a hopeful murmur around the place and rightly so after the weekend past. Three points down at Dagenham three days previous has the optimists looking up the table rather than down. Another win is achievable, but not without an upturn of what has been dire home fortune.

Hartlepool are looking for their first home win since August 18 when the Pools scraped a 1-0 victory over relegation favourites Newport County.

Evenings at Victoria Park have been a little testing as of late with defeats against mid-table Luton (1-4) and newly-promoted Bristol Rovers (3-0). A home win to reinforce some much-wanted mid-table anonymity in League Two would work wonders in easing any angst starting to creep in.

There are a handful of Barnet fans behind the goal to the left who have braved the long trip north, all 110 of them frozen to the core. They huddle together in a bid to retain any heat generated as a wind begins to brush over the stadium straight off the North Sea.

‘Machine’ by The Jar Family rings out as the players appear to a ripple of applause. Hangus the Monkey takes his place alongside them, teasingly bumping bottoms with today’s Hartlepool mascot before racing her away back to the stands.

The home side are sporting yellow armbands as a sign of local solidarity to young Jacob Jenkins, who tragically died at a local Pizza Hut this week. A heartfelt applause warms the evening air and the game is underway.

After an uninspiring start, the crowd seem unimpressed. A drum beats behind the goal in an attempt to rouse some interest, but the responding numbers seem depleted. The chant of “Ronnie Moore’s Blue and White Army” peters out gradually, being lost as they reach the penalty spot.

Six minutes in and the deadlock is broken. The crowd roars with aplomb as Hartlepool take an unexpected lead. A lethal counter attack through striker Rakish Bingham leads to Rhys Oates getting his first goal for the club, comprehensively punching home from around five yards. It’s the start they needed.

Five minutes later and the net must surely bulge again. A clever cross falls to Barnet’s Andy Yiadom and he’s in acres of space. Without a Pool player in his postcode, he looks up, takes his aim – before blasting the ball as high as he did wide.

The response of the crowd is not a surprising one as the jeers ring out at the misfortune of the visiting number seven. The tone is not spiteful, but breathes sheer relief that the scores shall stay the same.

Twenty-seven gone and there’s more Barnet confusion. Elliot Johnson and Tom Champion consecutively test their own keeper in an extraordinary display of disarray in the penalty box. It is comedic defending at it’s best.

A half time lull has begun to set in and the game needs livening up. Referee Wright plays his part, rousing the slumbering fans in his preferred role as pantomime villain.

A single cry of “what a w****r” comes within earshot from the stands. It is met by hearty laughter from those around him and the game gathers momentum off the back of it.

The second half doesn’t take long to come alive and it’s the moment the travelling Bees have been waiting for.

The outstretched leg of Barnet striker Michael Gash prods the ball clear through to his partner Akinde who with the gentlest of touches sends the ball trickling past a hapless Trevor Carson.

It’s in front of the away fans, there’s singing and shouting, pandemonium’s unfurling. But it’s offside.

The game is pulsating, it is end to end stuff and the fans respond by finding their voices.

The Barnet contingent begin to chant, recognising that with the score at 1-0 all is not lost. The Hartlepool faithful gesticulate defiantly towards their counterparts. The words are muffled and the volume no din, but the message is nonetheless loud and clear.

Sixty-four gone and Barnet are back in it. A straightforward through ball leaves the Pool players stagnate as the outstretched toe of Akinde finally steers the ball past Carson. One one, game on.

Luke Gambin is on for Barnet and he’s making the difference. Gash has a shot, it’s blocked away, Yiadom surely? Blocked away.

A frustrated yelp of “This is s***” comes from the Hartlepool end. The game is slipping away again and the locals can sense it.

The flowing football turns into head tennis, the ball being bludgeoned from end to end. It’s route one football but only one chance need drop. The crowd responds with cries of encouragement, the final ten minutes are here, it’s now or never for that elusive winner.

Hartlepool pile on the pressure. Free kicks fly in, consecutive corners crossed over. The fourth official has been and gone, taking with him any hope of victory for either side.

The final whistle blows and the sides share the spoils. The draw does little harm to either team’s survival but Hartlepool are denied at home again. It is seven Vic Park games now without a win and keeper Trevor Carson’s man of the match award hints unfairly that they should be grateful for what they got.

A hint of a boo turns into a respectful ripple of applause as the players shake hands and the fans stream their way towards the exits. The cheers of the Barnet crowd crescendo as the team go to thank them for their support. Suddenly the arduous journey seems more than worth it.

The 80’s tunes are back on the tannoy and the ground lays eerily dormant. There is a pleasant stillness that fills the air, buoyed by the hope that Saturday could bring much more. But for tonight at least, it ends Hartlepool United 1 Barnet 1.