Daylight Robbery

For once there were no engineering works on the District Line and it was a stress-free journey to King's Cross and the usual breakfast at Da Vincis.

We meet Chris and his bike on the concourse and for a short while it looks like the Big Bad Baldy Bazza Conlon argument from a previous journey was about to re-ignite. Thankfully it died out - life is too short for this nonsense.

Chris tells us that he and his fiancee, Suzy, are going to be cycling from London to Darlo in a few weeks time - much as he did with Howard a few years ago.

This time there's a twist - they're going on a tandem. I suspect it will be a good test of their relationship. Personally my money is on Chris cycling solo from Peterborough!

We arrived slightly later into Bank Top today and by the time I'd got my pastry items for the day, John was already waiting for me in the Quaker.

As ever a very good choice was on offer: Saltaire Stein Gold, York Guzzler, Hadrian & Border Are You Listening Gordon Heal?, Moles St Elmos Fire, Wolf Remus, Hart Squirrels Hoard, High House Farm Black Moss and Broughton Old Jock and Exciseman 80/-?

John and I got stuck into the extremely quaffable Stein Gold - John taking it easy as he was still suffering from the night before when he'd been out on the town with Tony. The Remus was also very tasty.

Joining us later was Brian, Tony (not looking or feeling as bad as John), John B, Lesley and then Neil. The latter had only just made it from snow-bound Aberdeen. Their lose is clearly...errr...our gain.

As ever we then wandered up to Number Twenty-2 - in addition to the usual Village Brewer beers, the guests included Bradfield Blonde, Thwaites Original, Sharp's Special, Copper Dragon Challenger IPA and Cathedral Ales Red Imp.

(left) The bar at Number Twenty-2

Once down at the Arena, John and I wandered into the club shop to see what schmutter there was to be had.

We were looking at some nice bench coats - they didn't quite have my size in but John found one which was just right - not too bad at £35. I got a wooly hat and a pair of DFC-branded gloves instead.

Once inside the ground and headed to the back of block 11 which is where we were greeted by the massed ranks of the Darlo Tykes. As ever, my old neighbour Geoff had pulled together a formidable group of fans and friends from Northallerton - plus other waifs and strays - and they were sure to make some noise and bring a bit of atmosphere to our section of the stand (full of moaning old curmudgeons).

The Tykes had all scrubbed up nicely for the occasion - my only worry was the number of shirt buttons looking under extreme strain. Protective head gear required.

The game started with Darlington looking the more lively - we seemed assured in defence and up front we made most of the running. Mor Diop had a good chance but he put the ball just the wrong side of the post - as ever he looked like he had his legs on the wrong way round.

Thankfully we weren't to rue this missed chance as Tadgh Purcell scored just before the half-hour mark. He was well placed in the six yard box to slip the ball into the net from a Mulligan pass.

(right) Darlo Tykes celebrate Purcell's second goal

The game continued to be bossed by Darlington until the half-time whistle. And then Purcell struck again early in the second half to double the lead.

The ref - who had a fairly decent game which meant Colin was extremely quiet for once - awarded the Quakers a free kick just outside the Spireites box. We were a bit concerned when the ref only paced out nine steps for the wall to retreat - it didn't matter as Purcell slotted home with what looked like a deflection off the defensive wall.

Diop managed to miss another chance but Darlo continued to look good value for their lead. Staunton made a few substitutions and after the second of these, the defence failed to pay attention when Whaley took the ball forward and then shot from outside the box - the ball squirmed under Redmond.

A goal from out of the blue and there was a noticeable tensing of the atmosphere amongst the Darlo faithful - the players must have picked up on this as they then looked extremely nervous as Chesterfield upped their game.

And then a wonder shot from Talbot that looped over Redmond - unbelievable. Coasting to victory one minute, hanging on for a draw the next.

If only.

Chesterfield continued to pile forward in the final minutes and our fate was sealed when Richie Byrne tried to clear but only succeeded in putting the ball into our own net.

A cruel, cruel finish to what had been a very decent performance with lots of positives - well, for 80 minutes. We do seem to make a habit of conceding late goals.

My old Supporters Direct chum, Phil Tooley, summed the game up perfectly in his report for the Sheffield Star when he said "Darlington were the better side with more ideas and more accomplishment for virtually all of the contest but they came out of the game with nothing more than a 13-point chasm to clear to find safety with games rapidly running out. "

I left as the final whistle went and caught the bus back into town - off to drown my sorrows in the QuakerHouse as we were on a late train back to London. Martin joined me after a while - he was keen to have some of the Guzzler in an effort to console himself - he said that some of the Chesterfield staff were almost embarrassed at the way they'd snatched victory from the jaws of defeat.

If only we could be that embarrassed for once...

A Game Of One Half, Brian

Arriving at the away end at Saltergate, I had expected a bit of hassle with regard to my camera but for once the stewards were very considerate.

I'd wanted to make sure I took a snap or three of our final visit to what must be one of the few remaining open terraces in the league - not a problem, they said, snap away. Let's hope they retain that level of friendliness at the new place.

(above) The away terrace at Saltergate

Most Darlo fans had retreated to the stand to escape the rain which whilst not too heavy was very persistent - my drinking compadres were no different in this respect but it was good to see there was still a hardcore of youngsters who were stood behind the goal, prepared to get wet for the cause.

I much prefer to stand whenever I get the chance and cognoscent of the forecast, I'd brought my waterproof so I could stay out in the rain. I spied Pete - a fellow London-based fan who works for World Soccer - who'd taken the same precautions and so I joined him. No point getting wet on our own, is there?

(above) Al-Fresco Comfort Area

For the first half hour or so, the game reflected the conditions - annoying and not very pleasant - Darlo were on the back-foot for most of that time and the defence were struggling. Plus precious little action from the lone figure of Curtis Main upfront to alleviate the pressure.

Chesterfield then took the lead with a deflected shot - Darlo claims for a foul on Foster were waved away.

I decided to go walkabout and get a few more snaps, especially the Al-Fresco Comfort Area - or open air bogs to you and me - just had to be recorded for posterity for their sheer minimalism when it came to cover.

I got talking to my old chum Geoff from Northallerton - he and I grew up together and we went to our first Darlo games together as young teens - and he was adamant that we just couldn't afford to get relegated - as we all know, the Conference is all but Division Five (League Three?) and will be extremely difficult to get out of.

I didn't disagree but I said that I don't think we'll have much option if we're going to stay within budget - and with that Chesterfield popped in a second - an effort from the edge of the box that evaded everyone. And then the ref blew for half-time.

(above) A disconsolate Geoff after we concede a second goal

At this point, the chances of Darlo getting anything from this game looked remote - the defence that was so secure last Saturday looked so leaky today - and the lure of a nice warm pub with a good selection of beers got the better of me. I unsuccesfully checked around to see if anyone wanted to join me and then wandered off back to the Chesterfield Arms.

By the time I'd warmed up and got through my first pint, I'd got into conversation with a couple of local lads who were 'debating' whether Liverpool or Manchester United had the better record. I was tempted to suggest they go and support their local team but I was hardly in a position to do that today.

I rang Liz - she was at home today rather than take the bus-replacement service to their game away at Torquay - and she said we'd pulled a goal back through Collins but it was still 3-1 to 'Cheaterfield' as she insists on calling them.

After the game Brian and John came back in the pub for a beer but other than get the final score from them I was having to sup up and wander off to catch my train.

On the return leg I was joined by Chris who was extremely scornful of my lack of loyalty to the cause today - he just doesn't understand the lure of a good pub. And this after he missed both our games at Barnet because of weddings!

A Bounder and a Cad

Despite the terrible weather of the last week assaulting the country, the train services out of London all seemed to be running well.

I'd briefly passed through Kings Cross - full of red-shirts off north to the Mackem -v- Arsenal game - as I wandered off for breakfast at Da Vincis.

The trip from St Pancras to Chesterfield was very pleasant - a table in first class to myself with just a quick visit from Lance when he joined the service at Derby.

On the way up, I'd had a text from Colin 'You Need Glasses, Ref' Fletcher - for the second week running he was unable to make the game. He was treading the boards this weekend and he was needed to help rebuild sets for the evening performance. That's showbiz, dahling!

On arrival Trevor was waiting for us - he only lives a bus ride away - we were expecting Brian too but there was no sign of him so we headed off to the pub.

(right) Chesterfield Arms

The Brown family who run the Chesterfield Arms had actually contacted DAFTS HQ to suggest we give them a try.

Their normal opening time was noon but they were happy to open earlier for us and so we arrived there just after 11am with manageress Jo waiting for us.

There was an excellent choice of beers on offer. The first that we tried were the two houses beers from Leatherbritches - a golden ale, Bounder (3.8%), and the darker bitter Cad (4.0%) - both of which are just £2 a pint.

Both were good brews and in excellent condition - and it was pleasing to be offered the choice of whether we wanted our beer through a sparkler (we did).

In addition to these two there were also: Wells Bombardier, Wychwood Dogs Bollocks, Everards Tiger, Woodefords Wherry, Oakham Black Hole Porter, Black Hole Brewery's Supernova and a remembrance beer from Wyre Piddle called Piddle Remembers.

We all tried the latter four beers over the course of the next few hours and they were all in tip-top condition. The Supernova was a strong-ish pale ale, quite lager-y, whilst the Black Hole Porter at 5.5% was a good finish to the session.

All this plus six ciders - so Liz will be quite happy when they visit here in December - pork pies, cobs, pickled eggs and a cheeseboard.

Jo told me that they'd running the pub since February having previously run the Old Poets Corner in Ashover which had won Derbyshire Pub of the Year under their reign.

(left) Inside the Chesterfield Arms at opening time

They were endeavouring to bring the same winning formula to this pub as well - apparently all part of Project William by Everards (who own the pub) to bring in high quality tenants who are able to earn better-than-normal margin by selling their own beers.

Prior to the new management, the pub was known mainly as an away fans pub but it seems that the home fans have now cottoned onto what a good pub this is and have started to come here too.

We were sat by a roaring real fire debating the football issues of the day by the time Brian and John Bell joined us - Terry Henry's goal got more than it's fair share of debate as did Brian Clough after I'd finally remembered to bring Provided You Don't Kiss Me for Lance (after he'd won it in last season's London Millers raffle).

I'd had a sneak read of the first chapter on the way up and it looks like a good read. Must put it on my list for Santa.

I took a call from Doug Embleton who was enquiring about the weather down here - he and Pete Ashmore were stuck in slow moving traffic on the M1 in what he said was a bit of a pea-souper. Expect to see him when we see him.

As time went on, the pub filled up nicely but it was very disappointing that no other Darlo fans had found the pub. It's one of those places - much like the Bulls Head in Burslem - where home and away fans can mix and chat in a friendly environment without any hassle.

(above) Trevor gets the lowdown from Lance

For once we could leave it quite late before leaving for the game - the pub is handily situated about 300 yards from the away end - but the forecast rain had started and it looked a bit inclement. Looks like we were going to be wet on the outside as well today...

No Dreaming Spires Here...

It was a nice surprise to find out that Da Vinci's opens a little after 6am - this gave me plenty of time for a full breakfast before joining Mr Wilson on the 7:30am train to Chesterfield.

The journey was due to be three hours - one hour more than usual as it seemed to be stopping absolutely everywhere for the bank holiday weekend - but it was closer to four hours by the time we actually arrived thanks to track side failures and general dithering about.

And I thought Virgin Trains were poor.

We meet Steve and Colin at Chesterfield station and took a cab straight out to the Derby Tup, one of the Tynemill chain of pubs we know well. Steve tried to get hold of Lance and Ray - already supping in the Rutland - but was having trouble getting through. Not for the first time...

After no sign of activity from within the pub just a few minutes after opening time (11:30 according to the sign outside the pub) I tried the door and found it wasn't actually locked - feeling daft for not having tried the door I was non-plussed to find stools were on tables and a cleaner was still doing her rounds.

It seems there is a new landlord and he now opens at noon - the scourge of the away fan who likes his Saturday beer session to start early - and so we have to find something to do in Whittington Moor to waste 25 minutes. Not a lot as it turns out - a quick wander round Lidl for some pork pies and chocolate being the most exciting thing on offer.

(above) Colin and Trevor ruminate on the meaning of life, the universe and Darlo

On finally getting into the pub, along with Trevor and John Bell who we'd found outside on our return to the Tup, there was quite a decent range on offer - Harvest Pale and Preservation Ale from Castle Rock, Thornbridge Jaipur IPA, Hopback Summer Lightning and a couple from the Oldershaw Brewery, Grantham Stout and Old Boy.

I stuck to the tried and tested duo of Harvest Pale and the Jaipur IPA - an easy choice really. Both Steve and John B were taking it easy - Steve was not feeling well and John had suffered at the hands of his wife driving over here from Chester and was still a bit light-headed.

The Tup is a nice, traditional pub but was virtually dead on this lunchtime - apart from the six of us there was probably only another half dozen customers whilst we were there.

That is likely to change in the next year or two once Chesterfield FC relocate to a new ground in Whittington Moor. Perhaps then they'll open a bit earlier.

We arrived at Saltergate a few minutes before kick-off - Steve was still not himself and opted for the comfort of the stand - the rest of us headed for the open terrace despite the odd drop of rain - it's not often we get the chance and we were hopeful the rain would pass over. It did.

(left) John still in a daze after his wife's driving

The main topic of conversation amongst the fans was the non-appearance of Liam Hatch and Danny Carlton - it seems the Football League have suggested all may not be well with their loans now that we're in administration and so we can't play them until it's all sorted - or maybe not play them at all - cue rumours of points deductions and relegation to the conference. God, we're a cheery lot.

The first half saw us under quite a lot of pressure and not much action up front to relieve it. Quite predictably Jack Lester, this league's top scorer, was tumbling theatrically at every opportunity, looking as if he's spent six months on loan at the Bolshoi, and the home crowd was baying for free kicks. Come on lads, have some dignity - you know what he's like...

At times it was pure gritty last gap defending with Ravenhiill, White and Miller holding firm - so much so that Kazimierczak didn't have to pull off many real saves.

The second-half saw us take the initiative and take the game to the Spireites - Abbot came more into the game with support from Burgmeier, Poole and Main - and it wasn't until late in the second half that Chesterfield looked like scoring.

It was a more-than-deserved point - the team's attitude was magnificent under the circumstances and they were given a prolonged ovation as they were warmed down after the final whistle.

One Chesterfield fan accused of coming for a point with ten men behind the ball but after chatting with him on the way back to the station, I suspect he was more frustrated with his own side. They seem to have no love for their manager and little more for Jack Lester despite all his goals.

Thankfully the journey back to St Pancras was a speedy trip - Martin and I enjoying the comfort and quiet of first class whilst abandoning John to standard class - and after a well-deserved snooze, John and I were in the Betjeman Arms for 8:30pm.

Liz and Jenny joined us a little later for a couple of drinks and then it was time to go home a little bit earlier than usual - the weekend's not over yet...