Time For Football,Time To Be Sully Again

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well it's Wednesday around six and I'm at the Sully Sports FC pitch to watch their match against the Cardiff Corinthians.

I remember seeing the Corinthians years before, in a match against Penybont FC (or as it was pre merger with Bridgend Town FC Bryntirion AFC).The capital side were fighting relegation, which they were eventually unsuccessful in, and in this particular game they were in the first half constantly under pressure yet by the break it was still goaless. Come second half they had a free kick just outside the box. The guy curled it into the net. Football can do that. Unfortunately the pressure told and they lost by three, possibly four to one.

I'd learnt from my first experience visiting the ground a few weeks back. Firstly it didn't matter that it was the end of August, the sky was blue and the sun shining. The pitch is by the sea so you wear a jumper.

The second was that if you want to make sure you watch all the game get your food before not at half time. So first thing I did was to go to the stall.

"What would you like?" asked the lady

"Small portion of chips....and a coke"

"Regular or diet?"

"Well as I'm having chips....... diet"

And she smiled. Having got the joke.

We chatted. I'd explained that I was here as I'd recently moved into the area and saw that it was on. "Ah" she said. "Someone rang up a few weeks back and asked how much was it to get in for the game against Pentwyn"

Pencoed actually was the thought in my head......that person being me.

Chips were nice

As I walked towards the ground I saw the Corinthians training. That moment it was where they raise a leg and move it in a circular direction apparently so that they could as instructed "feel the groin". A rare moment where this could be done in public without a police response.

The Corries in training

Of course as it was just my second visit to the ground not all mysteries were solved. I still don't know the answer to the question as I was eating my chips ready for the game to begin....

What is this?

Oh and of course as always I'm claim to be the first person to read a Bruce Chatwin book during the break in a Welsh football game.



There was a notable bright sun for most of the game to the right of where I was spectating which might affect the players. Assumed then that Sully won the toss as they weren't facing it first half.

Yes everybody Wales has sun

As I was awaiting for the kick off the manager and his enforcer number two were walking behind me. All I could hear the enforcer say was that someone had quit. Few things more intriguing than catching half a conversation.

For the Cardiff management team though there was no ambiguity.

"Two minutes to get blowing!!!" Whatever that means.

So the match began.

For a moment you can avoid the match and just look at the sea

It wasn't that long (about six minutes) when there was a goal. The Sully number 7 got the ball bypassed the defender and scored. The Cardiff management seemed to blame the defending, but there seemed to be skill in that goal as well. Anyway one nil Sully.

The Management

For most of the half the teams were relatively equal. Cardiff hit the post once. It seemed that by the break it was going to be Sully in the lead. Then however a Corries player got pushed in the box. Referee immediately awarded a penalty. The man by me was unimpressed and shouted at the manager that it didn't need much pressure for the Cardiff player to fall down. The manager, angry at the notion his team could be full of wussies responded by saying the felled player was "powerful". Of course implying the Sully player that tackled his man was more stronger.

It was "Zak " who had to take the penalty. He was under pressure. Not just from his team but by the boy being held by his relative nearby. Dad was playing for Cardiff so he knew what team to support.

"Score a goal Zak"

"Score a goal Zak".

Don't know whether Zak could hear him. Probably best not. For he would then know the weight of a child's hope and innocence rested on his shoulders. The reality of a cruel world would have been faced by one so young.

"Score a goal Zak"

Zak versus the Sully goalkeeper aka the man in radioactive orange.

"Score a goal Zak"

Thankfully for those of us who believe in childhood hope Zak scored. Of course it was not enough.

"Score a goal Dad"

"Score a goal Dad"

Dad didn't score. No one for the rest of the half did. As it happened it didn't matter. There was always the second half for him to score and besides, the boy was off with his Nan to the swings.

Kids. Fickle huh?

1-1 then. The team most clearly agitated at half time was Sully. The enforcer number two demanded an all out attack in the first ten minutes. Words like "Smash" and "bang" were used. It was as if they were planning a bank robbery.

As it happens in the second half  this attack didn't happen. Basically everything seemed equal until about the last twenty minutes. It was then that the Sully bank raid happened. Attack after attack was thwarted or the final shot was just not there. The Cardiff management were getting more frenzied.



Incidentally I learnt that a jumper was of no use. It was getting colder. Knee buckingly colder. Coat next time.



With about seven or so minutes to go the ball fell to the Sully number 10 just outside the Corries box. He shot. I think it was deflected. It didn't matter. It was a goal. 2-1 Sully.

That was how it finished. To be fair because of that last twenty minutes Sully deserved the victory.

I left feeling cold, in need of a cup of tea but having enjoyed a good game.

Until the next time.

No Football On This Blog For A While, Time To Be Very Sully

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I am conscious that it's been a while since football has made an appearance in this blog. There's a number of reasons for that, working most Saturdays, house hunting and the lack where we live at the moment of a decent internet signal on the TV for BT Sport have all conspired to reduce my footy watching for a while.

However where I live now I'm conscious of a number of football teams that play relatively nearby. Of those that I'm aware of there's Barry Town United AFC, Dinas Powys FC, Ely Rangers FC and Cardiff City. Neither have I forgotten Newport County AFC, Penybont FC and the team I've decided to follow as much as possible Ton Pentre FC. There seemed to be more opportunities to spectate now.

For this Wednesday however in the early evening for a six fifteen kick off I was off to see the nearest team to where we're renting at the moment, Sully Sports FC. Part of the South Wales Alliance Premier League, as I'm sure you knew already. The ground is a tolerable walking distance from where we live, but the journey the journey is awkward so I drove there.

So then part of the Vale of Glamorgan, no hint of my previous seventeen years in the Bridgend area, if it wasn't for their opponents, Pencoed Athletic FC, and I think you can guess where they're from.

To reach the ground you go through the car park, down the path where it's advised that children are welcome but not dogs (fine by me). Everything I should also mention was free.

You then approach the stand but cannot help looking at the pitch first. Or rather beyond it.

The Sea,The Sea

I mentioned to a few people in conversation that this must be the only ground in Britain where the ball boys are also lifeguards. They don't get the joke.

It's then I'm conscious that I've underdressed. The skies were blue when I'd left but now are black. I'm wearing a short sleeve shirt. It's cold, windy and I'm an idiot.

Anyway to the stand....past the container.




At the stand found I had company.

I'd no idea whatsoever

Someone on Twitter told me that it was a Horcrux. Google tells me that it comes from Harry Potter which regular readers will know I've never read out of principle (It's for kids! I'm fifty three). So I'm still none the wiser.

I brought What If? by Randall Munroe to read during the break. But as you will see as I go on I didn't have time to look it. So all I'll claim is to be the first person to have brought a copy of a Randall Monroe book to a Welsh football game. No I'll go further I'll claim to be the first person to have brought a science book to a Welsh football game.

History In The Making

So there was I, a man in a short sleeved shirt in unshort sleeved shirt weather. Only now do I realise how I looked like the weird oddball that evening.

About to Start

So the match, along with my ninety minutes plus of double pneumonia began.

It wasn't long before a man I'd assumed to be the Pencoed Athletic manager was shouting at a player for "quicker communication". He being blessed with never having the need to use a microphone to be heard. Indeed the entire three man management team seemed very emotional. Constantly waving their hands to show where the ball should've gone. Except that is when the instruction was to "open this way" when oddly enough the hand gestures were conspicuous by their absence.

The Sully management team consisted of a small man and his bodyguard type assistant who was the one mainly shouting out orders. Given that he'd the look of a man who would have been the maniac cop in any TV series interrogation of the bad guy I'm sure the Sully team carried out the orders as well as possible.

The Management....Sully are in Red

With about ten minutes of the first half to go. The Sully number ten had noticed that the Pencoed goalkeeper was out of his line and lobbed a ball over him. It was dramatic. It was a goal. It was one nil Sully.

A Few Stills From The Game....Yes I was That Close

Grey clouds Up There

More Goalmouth Action

And it stayed like that until five minutes before half time. Where if I understood it right from the Pencoed fans by me Ash crossed and Dunc connected to score. Could have been the other way round. Forgot that. And as to how, a shot or a header .....no idea....the Pencoed Management team were in the way.

One all is how it stayed at the end of the first half. It all seemed very fair to me. Sully seemed like the team with the skill but Pencoed were the more physical. It made predicting the outcome difficult.

For me though at that moment it didn't matter. I was cold I was hungry I wanted chips.

Now to explain the place to get the chips was a stall by the car park. From there the only view of the match was what was now the Sully goal. I'd expected the break to be fifteen minutes so imagine my shock as the lady was frying the chips when I saw the radioactive orange sight of the Sully goalkeeper. The second half was starting without me.

So there I was. Walking back to the pitch. Chips in hand.

Nice Chips At That

Passing through instruments of sporting torture.



And was just ready to see the ball go into the Sully net. Two-One Pencoed.

From that moment there was a clear change in Pencoed. Winning seemed to make them more relaxed. They were now matching Sully in the skill department. There was I could recall a piece of skill that produced a round of applause from the Pencoed management.

They were happy.

Behind the Sully Goal and The Man In Radioactive Orange

View from seaside of the pitch

The Sully side of the pitch....where most of the second half action was

Final Few Minutes 

With about ten minutes to go Pencoed scored a third. One on one with the radioactive goalie the player elegantly slotted the ball passed him. The best goal of the game.

Party time amongst the Pencoed posse began in earnest. One of the Pencoed management fell over. No one cared. Shots hit the bar. They knew they had won and were playing with the happy abandon of the school playground.

Sully however were deflated and you could see it. Their management hardly said anything after the third goal. They knew it was pointless.

Three one Pencoed was how the match finished. They deserved their victory.

So thankyou Sully Sports FC and Pencoed Athletic FC. For the neutral like me it was an enjoyable game to watch.

I'll just make sure next time I'm in Sully I dress a whole lot better.

Until the next time.

In Parallel Universes I Had An Interesting Saturday Going Out And Doing Things....Not This One

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

What was I going to do Saturday? Well after going out for breakfast as there was a viewing for our house at the unearthly hour of nine thirty I actually had various ideas.

Bore Coffi Porthcawl: On the first Saturday of the month in the local tabernacle church there is a Bore Coffi  (Coffee morning) between ten and twelve where over hot beverages people chat in Welsh. I'd not been there for years. Partly due to when I'd stopped learning Welsh and now because I always seemed to be working on that particular Saturday. Not this Saturday though.

Penarth Heights: Since the sale of the house had fallen through it had been pointless to go and view other houses. This though was an exception as it was a new development (as you can tell by the name - "Heights" - along with "village" names developers like to use) should we like it part exchange was an option.

It was unlikely. What we could see online suggested that the rooms, rather like chocolate bars these days, were going to be too small. Still there would be no harm in having a look.

Visiting a friend in Barry: Regular readers of this blog may remember that I mentioned a friend of my wife who moved from Cardiff to Barry in September following her divorce. I'd not been able to help with the moving as it coincided with my trip to London on the twenty fifth anniversary of my father's death.

Well I've still not visited the house. Mainly because it clashed with work. Not that I was particularly bothered. There may come a moment of I'll have to view many houses but going round one just because somebody's moved there holds no interest for me whatsoever. Even so, though I was disinterested there was no real excuse not to go and also it did link with.....

Football: The house was apparently close to Jenner Park, the home of Barry Town FC. I'd done my research ("research" meaning I went online) "Let's visit W" I'd say to my wife "Just make sure it's before two o'clock so I can watch the game". Can't say she appreciated that.

If that proved impossible I could have gone to watch Penybont FC. Ton Pentre though were playing away. One day I'll be able to become part owner (annual fee of £20) of that club.....just not this Saturday.

There we are. All those things to do. And didn't do any of them.

Let's come back to this universe. Returning to the house after having breakfast. I had to immediately go to the toilet. I will spare you full details, suffice it to say that it was graphic and I needed to take anti diarrhoea pills afterwards.

The point is that I suffer from time to time with vasovagal attacks. The thing I know about these attacks is that they occur if I'm physically weak (not necessarily ill, just weak) because of something else causing me to faint. I'd no idea whether this was going to be just such an attack but I couldn't take the risk of fainting outside of home and all the problems that would cause. So stay in we did.

The wife didn't object. She'd seen me faint often enough to know that discretion was the better part of valour. So the rest of my day was spent propped up on the settee with water and later toast to build me up.

Tried to read. Finished The Cricklewood Tapestry by Alan Coren. Can't say I liked it as much as the first two but then again wasn't really in full reading mode. Similarly tried a few pages of the Vasily Grossman, which I do like, but really wasn't up to it.

Watched about four to five episodes of The Gilmore Girls on Netfllix with the wife. I'm really into the show. Much to my (and wife/daughter's) surprise. Just Netflix you understand. Really was in no mood to chill.

So on a Saturday was the first one that went to bed, even though I would have normally stayed up to watch Match of The Day given that West Ham won. That will wait until the Sunday morning repeat which as I'm writing this is less than half an hour away.

I feel better now. Not one hundred percent but well enough to say with confidence to the wife that she can go out to watch Italy Wales play rugby at a friend's house with the girls later today.

So apologies that readers in parallel universes had a more varied post than you've got today. Let's hope the roles are reversed soon.

Until the next time,

Library humour. Books Borrowed And Bought, And I Become A Bluebird Fan For Ninety Two Minutes

Hello there hope you're feeling well today.

Yesterday I went to the Porthcawl library for the first time this year. I was, I must admit a little late so needed to pay a small fine. So put the books down on the counter as the librarian approached me. Behind her were two other ladies looking at a computer.

"Just need to pay my debt to society".

"Well" she responded "We'll need to get the dungeon ready".

To which I said: "I thought you were going to throw the book at me"

Alright it's hardly a "Woody Allen when he was funny" remark. Still it wasn't bad. And it earned me a small ripple of applause which for a library is the equivalent to a standing ovation.

Have decided to limit the books I borrow from the library to two. One football book and the other well anything that takes my fancy. Having said that it is stretching it to say that this is a football book.

Mark Chapman - The Love Of The Game

This book is about how he tries to instill a love of sport to his children. I must be honest here and say that for reasons of her unwillingness on some sports and just bad luck with injuries on others have not really been successful with my daughter. But I'll chat about that once I've finished reading this. Can though relate to it, which is the reason I picked it up.

My second choice could not be more different:

Marian Keyes - Under the Duvet (actually photographed above one)

I have mentioned before in this blog how I believe that Marian Keyes is a brilliant writer undermined by chick lit book covers and blurb. This is a collection of her journalism (I mean would you expect a cover like that for Alistair Cooke?) so I'm hopeful.

I didn't have much time to spend once I finished with the library. But armed with £3.57 from my Penguin paperback budget went to the PAWS charity shop. Bought two books for a total of 50p. What really pleased me was that they were both on the old numbering system.

On the other hand:

835 - C S Forester - The Happy Return

As I've recently explained when discussing The Commodore I'm not a C S Forester fan at the moment because I believe UKIP would lap the over the top patriotism, all foreigners are flawed mantra that ran through that novel. So I'd be lying if I said I was looking forward to reading another novel by him for a while.

The other book could not be more different:

D114 - Vasko Popa - Selected Poems

Vasko Popa was a "Yugoslav" (when this was published - was born in Serbia) poet. I've made it clear that poetry and me rarely get on. But I'm intrigued by this and will give it a fair wind when it's name comes up on the pile of the great unread.

It had been a while, other than watching Penybont FC, that the stars of the universe would align that I would be so aligned that I could watch some live sport. But later that afternoon I discovered through Twitter that the Cardiff  Under 23 team would be playing in the city stadium that evening and it would be free (including, a factor crucial to me for going to matches at Cardiff City in an evening, the car park). Daughter would be at guides, wife would have the chance to watch whatever Downton Abbey replacement TV is throwing these days and I would watch live football. Happy family life.

As I've made clear previously, Cardiff City, along with Swansea City, Newport County and Leyton Orient, belong in that small group of teams that I genuinely wish well as long as they're not playing West Ham. And as they were not facing any of the other teams I've just mentioned was happy enough to be a Bluebird fan for ninety minutes plus stoppage time.

I drove to the Cardiff City Stadium early. I'd done this once before and I knew that essentially it would be a few blocks of the stadium that would be occupied by fans so consequently had a good chance of a decent car park space. Once that was done went to what I had not realised before was a surprisingly small McDonalds (given how busy it must be for match days) for a meal. Once finished went inside the stadium.

Bluebird Country

From a distance new football stadiums look as if alien spacecraft have just landed ready to request to be taken to your leader. With the nearby Millenium stadium Cardiff has two relatively close together. That presumably is one of  the privileges of capital city status.

I'd taken the book Bobby Fischer Goes To War with me to read during the breaks and claimed on Twitter that I was the first person to take a book on chess to a Cardiff City game. Their Twitter feed quickly came back to say that they would need to "....check.Mate".

But for now....

...I'm still claiming this

Cardiff's opponents were Ipswich Town who apparently judging by their away strip seemed to think of themselves as the Barcelona of Suffolk. Still when the match began they were the ones who came closest to scoring in the first minute.

Beware Barcelona . Boys in Tractors are coming for you

Both teams played the opening minutes full of energy, youth and enthusiasm. As a fifty three old man I hated them for it.

But around the twenty sixth minute Cardiff scored. As I recall it was a response to a parry of a first attempt. But It didn't matter how they scored, they scored. One nil.

And from the moment the first half was mainly one set of Cardiff attacks after another. You've heard of an "unlucky bounce"? Well in this match there was an unlucky ricochet as the Cardiff shot went from the goalkeeper to a defender and then to safety to Ipswich. One nil is therefore how the first half ended.

So to the second half. You will note from this picture the Ipswich goalkeeper. Dressed in a colour that I could only describe as motorway maintenance.

Presumably cycling to Suffolk after the game

After that picture was taken Cardiff scored a second.A shot by James Waite. All seemed to be going smoothly then.....but

There came the moment where the Cardiff defence went all Rip Van Winkle when there was a run along the left, a cross and the oncoming Ipswich player slotted the ball to the net. Two - One.

Around the seventy fifth minute order was restored when Matt Kennedy scored a delightful free kick that got everyone outside of Suffolk applauding in admiration. It must have been particularly sweet given that two Ipswich players in separate incidents were booked for tackles on him last seen in a Jackie Chan movie. Three - One.

Five minutes after where. after a pass went astray the Ipswich manager threw a water bottle down to the ground in anger. He was by far the loudest person in the stadium that evening. His equivalents on the home technical area seemed to say nothing until ninety minutes had passed when all of a sudden they were shouting things to their players. Ninety minutes gone. Three one ahead and now you want to say something? Did not get that.

Anyway made no difference. The Match finished with the victory to Cardiff City.

Earlier I'd poked fun at the Ipswich goalie's taste in luminous clothing. But let me also say this. There are matches where a team is comprehensively beaten but their best player turns out to be the goalkeeper because he (or she) stopped the score being much worse. This was the case here. Michael Crowe put his body on the line constantly during the match to thwart what seemed to be near certain Cardiff goals. Judging solely on this game Ipswich should do their damnest to keep him.

Thank you Cardiff City. It was fun.

Until the next time.

In Which We Become American For The Morning, A Bont Too Far For Airbus And A Dalek Win

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

On Friday I did the early shift. Meaning that I had to deice the car windows at five thirty in the morning on the most frosty opening day this year. Running the car as I did so, much to the widespread applause of the neighbours I'm sure. Worked an eight hour day,had a quick lunch of a packet of crisps and a bottle of mineral water after which I drove to near Maesteg and back to pick up daughter from school. Later I did some vaccuming and cleaning as there was a viewing of the house at nine thirty Saturday morning.

Despite all of this your sympathy will automatically switch to my wife when I tell you that on Thursday she discovered she had a chest infection. She came home from work sounding like wounded bagpipes and it resulted in her having tons of medication from the doctor as well as needing an inhaler and would probably explain what happened last Sunday when she didn't feel up to going Christmas shopping in Cardiff.

Thankfully on Friday she felt better. This resulted in an argument when she wanted the viewing to continue and I wanted to cancel given her condition. Eventually however we reached a compromise. The viewing would continue, but rather than go to the big out of town Starbucks about five to ten minutes drive that she wanted we'd have breakfast in one of the cafes a few blocks away so that if the wife didn't feel well and we needed to get back to the house it would be relatively quick.

Next stop: The United Nations.

Which was why wife. daughter and I were on a Saturday morning in a local café about to have a Saturday breakfast. The irony of going to a local café for the first time in order to try and leave the locale was not lost on me.

I wish could say that having a weekend breakfast like fashionable Americans was something that we should continue as a family but alas not. Firstly there were clear signs that they hadn't completely dealt with the night before. The floor wasn't completely clean, the flowers on the table were dead and the mens toilet door was open.

We ordered what is normally described as an "English breakfast" (Eggs,bacon etc) before which we were given jars of brown and red sauce. All seemed fine until you looked at the bottles. One wasn't labelled, the other said "Orange Juice". Needless to say no one took the sauce.

The food itself was edible but nothing special. Daughter was of the same view though the wife did like it I must stress. Nobody liked the coffee though. When we got home the first thing I wanted was a cup of tea.

Wish I could say that it was all worthwhile but no. Nothing from the estate agent, who let's face it would have contacted us immediately after the viewing.

Now the plan for Saturday was going to Cardiff and do Christmas shopping. But that was dropped due to wife's illness. I had intended to go to Ton Pentre today and watch their match with Bangor but although she was better really couldn't go a journey of roughly forty five minutes away until she was fully fit.

Saturday however as there was the option of going to Penybont FC (which is Bridgend in Welsh, Bont after mutation meaning Bridge, here endeth the language lesson) who were playing Airbus UK Broughton in the third round of the Welsh FA cup. As wife was ok to look after herself, a friend came to visit to see how she was and the ground was a ten minute walk away from our house I decided to go.

Now the thing to remember here is that Airbus UK Broughton (which from now on I'll call Airbus) are in the Welsh Premier League, albeit bottom of that league currently. So what that meant for a club like Penybont FC is that, (I suspect this discripyion being used for the first time in their history) Airbus were glamourous.

Now what this meant was that there were things in this match I've never seen in Penybont games in the past. Such as being greeted in the car park with men in high vis jackets and a tressel table wanting money for watching the game. Once you paid your dues they would, uniquely, actually give you a ticket!!

That ticket is surely a Penybont FC collectors item

There was a bouncy castle for the children and a TV gantry was ready to show highlights of the game on the Welsh language channel S4C.

Most of the front seats in the small stand were reserved. Including that for the lady mayoress (who left at half time)

The players had mascots as they came out and had to also go through a guard of honour of further kids some who were going to act as ball boys (I think they were all boys).

For Penybont FC this was big.

Of course I should mention here that I claim to be the first man to read a C S Forrester novel during the breaks of a Welsh F A cup game.

Proof to any doubters out there

But before the match started there was a minute's for the tragedy of the air crash in Columbia that included the Brazilian team of Chapcoense. It was observed impeccably aside from a few young kids who didn't know any better and a deliberately fashionably dressed dark haired woman with a chiffon like scarf and her young coiffured teenage son who did. Rather than stand still for a minute this cow and her brat were going to get a seat in the stand and were not nothing respectful was going to stop them getting it clanking them as they did so.

The mark of respect

So the match began. And it wasn't long before something really interesting happened. About the twelfth minute Penybont scored. I think it was number 6 who was generously given a pass from someone who could've gone himself. The pass made the chances of a goal easier for Penybont and it was taken.1-0 then.

A few minutes later it was two nil A shot from the number 10 easily superior to the efforts of the goalkeeper.

And then something truly incredible happened......the sun came out. It had been missing for the past couple of days but decided to make an appearance around the half hour mark. It seemed to energise the Airbus players as if they were solar powered for soon after they scored. A curling on from the ground by the number 33. It was the best goal of the game and the only time in the first half where the away side even suggested that they were the ones playing in the superior league.

That's sunlight in case you were curious

I should use this moment incidentally to congratulate the Football Association of Wales in encouraging minorities to participate as match officials. In this game it was Skinheads.

Multiculturalism if not multi hair

There were a couple of women around me. One of them remarked that she was going to shoot her son for putting his coat on and then proceeding to roll on the grass. The other queried the brain cells of some Penybont players for a wayward pass, So you see the ladies can criticise on football as much as the men, they just go for a more sniper approach.

But at half time it was 2-1 to the home team and people around me were happy aside from me who discovered there was no bacon and had to make do with a sausage sandwich instead. As I returned to the stand the Airbus players came out early. Presumably they didn't get the hair dryer treatment from the manager more the entire salon.

And their number 33 had a good effort early on again. Another curl that beat the goalkeeper and just missed the goal. Unfortunately for them soon after Penybont (number 6) scored a third. A cross from the left,a header, a goal. The easiest goal of the match.

To be honest Airbus gave the impression of having given up from then on. The one true effort came from their number 32, who after learning that a throw in was not going his way threw the ball on the floor and pushed a Penybont player (he was booked).

As the game entered it's final minutes Penybont added a fourth, A shot around the edge of the box by the number seven. That's how it finished. 4-1. The result was not a surprise. The comprehensive score was.

Even their team coach seemed to be mocking Airbus. "A Premier Way To Travel" was the company's slogan. They are not however a Premier way to play. Airbus are in big trouble.

As are West Ham.

I've mentioned previously that as a West Ham fan I'm probably unusual in that Arsenal and not Millwall are team I hate and that for me watching Arsenal is like viewing Doctor Who and rooting for the Daleks. However being real life the Daleks more often than not win.

They played each other in the evening game which I saw and Arsenal won by five goals to one. Although West Ham have been rocked by injuries the thing I really don't understand is that the get up and at them spirit which personified last season seems to have disappeared.

Living relatively near Swansea I'm lucky that the jibes in my direction are muted. Swansea City having also let five goals in against Tottenham. So their fans and me just wallow in our current misery together.

Until the next time.

In Which I Watch Penybont FC - Goytre Utd FC

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Saturday. The weather is awful. At it's best it was a fine persistent rain with a light to heavy wind. At it's worse it was a heavy persistent rain with a light to heavy wind. Only an idiot would want to go out and watch Welsh league football in this weather.

Well.....two thumbs pointed towards this guy.

My first thought was to go to watch Ton Pentre, the team I've decided to own (and when I say "own" I mean with a group of other people for a £10 annual subscription - though quick digression not sure when I'll be able to do this as work and a necessary trip to see my mother near Epping means that this is likely to be some time in October). However they were away at Afan Lido which is in the Port Talbot area. Though I had a rough idea how to get there discretion was the better part of valour given that it was not the sort of weather to drive somewhere when you weren't one hundred percent certain of the way.And (another quick digression) it didn't later on seem as wimpy a decision as it first appeared given that Newport County had postponed their game because of the weather.

So the decision was simple. I'd take the walk (in the rain) to watch Penybont FC play Goytre Utd FC. Wasn't bothered by the fact that wife/daughter were going to be by themselves alone. After all they were going to watch that evening and Saturday/Sunday nights until December a group of celebs dancing so it seemed to even itself out.

To emphasise the point about the weather this is the view from the stands a few weeks back when Penybont FC played a pre season friendly with Newport County AFC

And this from roughly the same spot was the view on Saturday.

Look No Mountains

Though very early in the season Penybont had problems. In the sixteen team division Wales League (to be precise the Nathaniel Car Sales Welsh League Division One) they were fifteenth with just one point. Their opponents Goytre were in eleventh position with three points. Trouble with being in this position early in the season is that if there are no victories then things begin to fester and a turnaround, though not impossible, is more difficult to achieve.

Furthermore I was at half time told by a father of one of the Penybont players that a key striker and centre back were injured which was another problem they had to face up to.

As the first half went on I had the theory that somebody from Goytre had been doing homework on their opponents if only because they seemed to floating cross after cross into the Penybont box and yet like a bunch of athiests the home team didn't appear to know what to do with them. The men in white just dominated the half. Much to the annoyance of a man well to the left of a (well filled) stand who couldn't contain himself once a rare Penybont incursion into the Goytre half.

"Finish!" he shouted. They unfortunately didn't. The young men behind him revealed him to be "Chippy's dad". His son also playing for Penybont He would shout something else in the second half. Chippy's dad wasn't feeling chipper that afternoon.

In the thirty second minute Goytre scored. A corner met by an untroubled header. One nil. They doubled it after forty five minutes. A free kick also from the right met by an untroubled header. Quite nearly a Goytre groundhog day moment.

Incidentally before I forget I claim to be the first person to read a Ben Mezrich book during the breaks of a Welsh football game. Nothing, especially in a day like that could remind you of Las Vegas more.

History is made

More aquatic action

A word of praise for the match officials. At least they didn't look as if they'd spent the previous day in junior school like those for the Ton Pentre - Penybont game. Look at the assistant referee in this photo. Bald and looking older than my fifty two years on this planet and yet there he was, running around as if he had no care in the world (hope he's not younger than fifty two!).

The second half was basically a dead game. Penybont FC clearly tightened up in the back but apart from one opportunity they didn't seem capable of scoring until very late in the game. That came when the Penybont number ten scored from a free kick. If I understood the conversation behind me correctly the goal scorer was Chippy. For the record I didn't notice, though wasn't deliberately listening, to any utterances at that moment from Chippy's dad.

It was however too late. Goytre had won and taking the overall performance into account had deserved their victory. Judging purely on this one game you can see at the very least mid table respectability.

For Penybont however this seems like worrying times. I've seen three matches (one being a pre season friendly) for this season now and they are not the secure team of the past. In all of these games they conceded the first goal (in the Ton Pentre/Goytre matches two) and so the struggle for victory becomes ever the greater.

They need a win....fast.

Until the next time.

In Which Reality Bites Fantasy And The Premiership etc Have To Wait For A Match At Ton Pentre FC

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well let's set the scene. I'm in the bath. I've explained before how I'm a fan of a good soak and won't bore you with it again. Listening to a season preview of the Guardian Football weekly podcast. Of the three football podcasts I listen to this is my favourite. In my comfortable relaxed state am jolted by a sentence from the show.

"Defoe is injured".

Defoe? Jermain Defoe? The Jermain Defoe that's on my fantasy football team? Clearly have to change the starting eleven.

So I get out of the bath,dry and go onto the Daily Telegraph fantasy football website.....but for some reason my team wasn't there. Was confused but was in a rush so I decided to create the team again. Exactly the same as before except that Berahino of West Bromwich replaces Defoe. So the team is set up and ready to go when.....the Telegraph Fantasy League website crashes.

I try,try again but it's down. Too late to do anything before the first match begins my fantasy team dies in this initial week.

Whose fault was it? Well I suspect did something wrong initially but then it was compounded by the website crashing. And of course the biggest irony is that not only did Defoe actually play against Manchester City he scored as well.

I had to go to Bridgend Town today. Was in a bit of a rush but went into the other Polish deli there for a look around. Because of my lack of time really couldn't make a considered decision so got these.

I shopped Polish

These barring the packaging are probably about as Polish as I am but that's not the point. The point is that in these post Brexit dark ages we should support the Polish shop against those racists happy to denigrate those Poles who have moved and have set up lives/businesses here. Next time I'm going to Bridgend Town I'll ask on Twitter to recommend some Polish food (meats,cheeses etc) to give them a try.

And one more thing on Bridgend Town. Noticed this building.

Does Have A Certain Style

Twitter tells me it's a church. It does seem worth investigating in the future though I'm not sure when.

Wife/daughter had no real plans for Saturday. As they hadn't I had.Penybont FC were playing at Ton Pentre at the first match of the new season for this, the second tier of Welsh League football. I was going to spend the afternoon in the Valleys. You remember I had a day out in there in May to wallow in the views. Yesterday though it was going to be mainly football.

One quick digression though. As was going out I noticed this.

That bird is big

Had thought that I knew where the Ton Pentre ground was but I'd overshot and what turned out to be an empty ground was in the nearby village of Pentre. To digress for a moment Pentre I was told later was once a longer name than that. It makes sense to me. Pentre in Welsh means village so essentially this is a village called village.

So got back to Ton Pentre to ask where the football ground was. It turned out that I was not that far away.

View number 1

So followed the instructions to the most well hidden ground I know. Essentially park in a nearby street.

View number 2

Across another street.

View Number 3

Cross a bridge.

Bridge

View from the bridge.

With added finger

Turn right by the industrial estate.

Industrial Estate Action

And here you are. Still doesn't give you any idea of what's inside.

Ton Pentre FC

It cost £5 to get in. This included a programme which though more cheaply produced (hence the price) is far more readable than anything else I've seen in this league. It included an application to be a part owner of the club for an annual fee of £10. Must admit it's tempting and will think about this,but I won't decide for a while yet. Working next Saturday and the following week will be driving to Essex (which I'll explain then).

So then I've properly entered the ground. This is the view that awaits.

Quietly stunning

Thing about a Welsh League football game is this. If the match has it's dull moments you can always wallow in the views. This is from the other side of the pitch.

Yes I know

Before I forget let me claim now to be the first man to read an H E Bates novel during the interval at a Ton Pentre FC game. Already I've made history in this club.

The proof

The sole seated stand is in the centre - To the left is the clubhouse

You know football is often described as a game of two halves. Well this was a game of two quarters and a half. The first quarter belonged to Ton Pentre. They started the match attacking the Penybont FC half and were rewarded with a goal in just 8 mins, a perfectly placed header by the number 10.

Relatively soon after the number 9 despite falling down during his run into the box scored another. Two-nil then and it looked bad for Penybont FC

Ton Pentre have a manager and his assistant. I'm assuming that the guy wearing the baseball cap Pulis style is the manager. But it was his sidekick who did most of the shouting in the first half.

The assistant's calls did occasionally go to the bizarre. This was a conversation to the number 8 of his team.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Well done".

The number 8 had a look of a man who did not understand what was been said to him, He was not the only one.

The Dynamic Duo

In the second quarter things seemed to change. Rather like the friendly against the Newport AFC youth team Penybont seemed to get their act together when things seemed to be at their darkest. They scored in the twenty ninth minute (can't tell you who) though how the Penybont player was able receive a cross that went through various defenders and score despite a flapping oncoming keeper is a mystery. From a Ton Pentre view the goal was described by those around me as sloppy. That seemed the best description.

Nothing though sloppy about the second Penybont goal. A cross from the right and a straight volley by the Penybont number 8. It was pure skill.

Two all then and that is how it stayed until half time.

The second half was mainly Ton Pentre. They had chance after chance but were seemingly unable to score. They weren't helped by the match officials. Being young they seemed unable to count the correct distance of a wall in a free kick situation, the offside law or that a throw in is not taken at a spot preferred by the thrower. I blame the education system.

Must admit though have an older man's dislike for officials who are not only younger than you but also have the confidence to wear fashionable hairstyles. Though in this case the assistant referee's hair seems to have been cut using a garden implement.

Shawn by shears

With every wrong decision the Ton Pentre management were by degrees angrier. I heard from the manager what seemed like "forty grams of shocking"after one decision. Not sure you understand but it sounded good.

The next photo shows where I was watching the game from. The men coloured in motorway maintenance are the Penybont FC managerial team.

The brightly coloured dynamic duo

A draw was where this match seemed to be going until in the thirty fifth minute the Ton Pentre number 11 was able to out run a number of Penybont defenders and score. Three-Two to Ton Pentre which turned out to be the final score and. given their second dominance, deserved.

After the match was finished went to see some friends in the nearby village of Llwynypia. As I arrived they were about to take some garden rubbish to the local tip. They suggested that I relaxed in the bench they have in front of the house whilst they disposed of their stuff. This I did. A pleasant few moments reading the H E Bates book in front of this view.

Imagine seeing that in front of your house every day. Even if the building below is an ASDA

It was certainly pleasant. Would've been even more so if I liked the book. That though is for when I've finished it.

Had pleasant chat with tea and biscuits when they returned. Soon though it was time to go. Six pm. Time flies when you've had a good time

Thankyou Ton Pentre FC, Penybont FC and the Rhondda Valley.

It was fun

Until the next time.