Rushall Olympic (Away):

A nice long away trip by our own meagre standards was the promise and, my, did it deliver!  8am and the rather depleted RRF met up at Picadilly for our first train of the day, down to Wolverhampton.  Despite the slow train over to Rushall, we made our first pub (The Boathouse) by mid-morning and got stuck into the darts and pool.  The police turned up a bit later for a nose around, but the bar stayed open and it was only when the only cask ale (Partridges very own Directors) ran out that we took a wander on.  That was a bit of luck as it happened, as the next pub  was even better, with a big range of ales and, bizarrely, no bar!  You just sort of wandered in and stood where the bar should be, whilst the barmaid served from the taps on the wall.  After a few leisurely drinks in the sunshine outside, it was time for kick-off so we made our way over the bridge to the ground.

The match itself was nothing to write home about.  An uneven pitch and very agricultural football from both sides.  It was unlikely there were going to be many goals in it, and low and behold, Rushall got the break through a defensive cock-up.  We had a goal disallowed, and had probably deserved a draw, but it was not to be.  As always though the result is only half the matter with football, and a good time was had under the covered stand, mostly catching up with friends.

After the match we headed for the Black Country Arms in nearby Walsall.  This place had about 12 different ales on cask, was full of reds and so we weren’t keen to move on.  As certain beers ran out, the sign, listing what was on each pump, even clattered down like a departures board at the train station!

The journey home eventually had to be made.  We had an hour to spare though, waiting for our connection back to Manchester, so we decided to stop for one in Birmingham too.  We opted for my old favourite, The Victoria, a vaguely “in” pub and hangout with Wyre Valley beer on offer.  We weren’t disappointed.  No bouncers and a good pint served in proper pint glasses with handles!

A quick stop to stock up on spirits, and we caught our train back home.  Then it was off out into the night, with good soul music at the Thirsty Scholar.

“Do you know what a shit barometer is?” :-)

Course You Can Malcolm, limited edition IPA.

Spotted here.

Occupy Frickley

Frickley isnt exactly a favourite destination for FC fans, probably ranking alongside Skem in terms of ones to avoid, due to trouble at previous matches.  I on the other hand have always quite enjoyed the trip, with the bus ride over the pennines, views across the hills from the nice covered terrace and extremely melodramatic police escort out of town after the match.  Coincidence would have it, that it was Frickley away once again when I managed to find time to return to Manchester for the weekend.

Before the flight too important meetings needed to take place.  Firstly Rot-Weiss Essen fan, and good friend, B. was met and we travelled to the airport.  Then we met the Stade Family Fun Park Crew who had flown over to watch Borussia Dortmund and then St Pauli and were staying at my flat.  Keys handed over, we boarded our plane and headed for Ringway.

We touched down around midday and after B. had spent some time getting used to cars on the wrong side of the road and security cameras everywhere, we met up with our host from the Odd Carriers and then had a mooch around town.  A bit of a look around Oi Polloi, a few bargains snapped up in Bags of Flavor (the vintage Woolrich Coat I snapped up is almost worth a post of closeups only the Darmstadt Casuals site could match!), local cullinary delights on Tibb Street enjoyed, a few city stickers peeled off lampposts and had a good laugh at the Chester ones,  and then caught the tram up to Old Trafford.  It was odd looking around Old Trafford (from the outside) again.  The new quadrants look so alien and yet beneath the stands, there is still a feeling of nostalgia and home to it all.  This was quickly dashed though by the number of half and half city/United scarves being snapped up by passing tourists.

In the evening, we went to Joshua Brookes for JB Shorts, the evening of short plays run in the basement there every once in a while.  Id never been, but Im glad we went.  The plays were all very good, and often extremely funny, but at the same time short enough that if one didn’t tickle your fancy, then the next one would be on soon after.  As is often the case with events involving anything made with a bit of love in Manchester, there were plenty of familiar FC faces there, including of course James Quinn who armchair army fans will know from the radio commentary, and the rest of you will know from Early Doors.  Definitely worth a visit next time its on!

Afterwards we did a tour of various pubs, exposing our German guest, now dubbed “Cornish” to the wonders of real ale.  The Elbow beer in the Castle Hotel finished us off and left us stumbling through Picadilly Gardens chewing on cardboard sandwiches from the Spar.

On the Saturday we were up fairly early and after a quick nosebag were off to the Red Lion pub in Withington.  A quick pint and then it was off once again, with the Didsbury and Withington branch in their minibus.  The sun was shining so the trip across all the more enjoyable.  Another quick pub stop was fitted in near the ground and we still made it for kick off.

Id expected the match to be quite close, but instead we made light work of Frickley.  A scrappy start, was followed by a couple of goals with a dash of luck and before long we were bossing the game.  Finally a decent performance in the FA Trophy!  Despite the relatively low turnout, the atmosphere was pretty good and there was no sign of trouble, apart from when B. spotted someone in a Wuppertaler SV(!) shirt.  I caught up with plenty of old friends during the course of the match and even met a fellow St Pauli fan from the Sudkurve who is living over in Manchester for the next couple of months!

After the final whistle we got our now standard police escort out of town.  Within an hour and a half we were back in Manchester and spent the rest of the evening in the Port Street Beer House with a few other Oddies and other FCers.  The Kernel Pale Ale Stella was going down particularly well.  We even spotted a lad in a St Pauli scarf, but he didn’t seem to know much about what it was.

We caught the first half of the derby on the Sunday, but fortunately were out at Ringway by the time the final score came in.  Ive never seen so many people queuing to go on their holidays, looking so depressed!  A good time to leave the country!

Rare matchday report!

After a chaotic and expensive trip to the airport, I actually made a game of football!  I arrived in Manchester Friday afternoon, and after dropping off my bags at D. in Wythenshaw, we caught the bus into town to meet the others for a pint of Holts (Maple Moon now on cask at the Crown and Anchor!).  We then trekked it up to the CAMRA Winter Ale festival, turning down city’s offer to “Be Part of It” on the way ;-).  After giving the one purchaser in our group loads of abuse for buying the programme (it was sponsored by Wetherspoons), of course we spent much of the evening then studying the thing like a form guide at the races.  I went for Red Kyte (from somewhere up in Scotland), something from the Phoenix Brewery, a porter everyone had been banging on about and then a slightly disappointing Golden ale, the name of which I cant remember, but which had a citrus finish that didn’t appeal to me.  By this time I was fairly drunk, although not quite as bad as one friend who had taken a beating offsomething which I think was called Welsh Harp.  Further drunken behaviour was witnessed by SD. who launched into a hilarious rant at how smug vegetarians want to change the world, seemingly prompted entirely by the pile of veggie curry Id just bought.  Back into cabs and we headed off to Corbieres.  Id never been before, but entering the cellar bar to the strains of Fleetwood Mac, I immediately knew I liked the place!  A few drinks were enjoyed, whilst said Welsh Harp drinker was positioned strategically so he could be pinned in and prevented from swinging at some coked up city boy who was, to be fair, being a big of a knob.  A quick stop off at Retro bar and then bed.

Saturday started well with a egg barm at a nearby greasy spoon and even bumping into some Germans also heading to the match on the tram.  Before long we were sat in Course You Can Malcolms, listening to the comedian on, take the piss out of Crumpsall which didn’t please J.  It wouldn’t be the last mention of Crumpsall for the day, but probably the last featuring any humour!  The match itself was given a little extra atmosphere due to the arrival of the big flags as organised by FCUM Passion.  I got on to the terrace a little late as Id been gabbing on to JayDivision about St Pauli, so I missed the handing out of the flags, but I thought they looked really good.  The match itself of course, can be read about here http://www.fc-utd.co.uk/story.php?story_id=3369.  In general I thought we looked very comfortable.  Ive not seen Wolfenden play before and enjoyed watching him in particular, as he made a couple of very nice runs.  It remains to be see whether we are fighting relegation or aiming for the play-offs, such is the nature of this league, but its nice to have a few more wins under our belts either way.  During the second half and after the match, the St Pauli solidarity-banner was held up in the MRE and we even got a photo of it, before the stewards chased shooed us out of the ground as they wanted to close up.  Outside we spotted David Conn from the Guardian at the match making a dash for it, no doubt trying to make it home without missing too much of “his lot’s” match against Villa.

Thirsty after the match we headed in the direction of the Waterloo and watched city lose.  The beer was setting in by now, and the our table’s conversation seemed to be carried out in a Brummie accent to accompany the match, as well as occasional pauses which were filled by high pitched singing of some song off the Karate Kid soundtrack.

Afterwards we caught the tram back into town.  The tram ride normally is a dull affair, but of an evening it provides a perfect cross section of Mancunian society, or as one friend put it “it’s a fucking Zoo on wheels”.  Hen do’s, shift workers, football fans, hip hop freaks, indie kids, scallies.  Its all there on that late night tram.  On the way we passed through the aforementioned Crumpsall.  This prompted an attempt to insert the word Crump in any word that remotely rhymed.  Early attempts “Bottled beer or beer from the Crump” where ok.  By the end of our several hours spent in Cask, the attempts were pushing it a little, as was our table in the pub, where the conversation seemed to just be a loud exchange of expletives and in-jokes.  Still with most on Belgian beer and me on a half litre bottle of Dortmunder Union, it was no surprise.  The evening was downhill from there.  We popped over to Joshua Brookes, but what used to be a sound post-match hangout for many FC fans has all gone a bit gentrified.  No more Fifa to play, no shots menu and now increasingly populated by people who think its acceptable to wear (in winter) cuffed skinny jeans and leather loafers…with no socks!  We need a new local.  JB – RIP.

The next day and it was home time for me.  D. dropped me off at the airport and I checked in.  As I was going through the security gate though, I spotted someone wearing a Carlotti Sports jacket.  In fact he was all decked out in Carlotti.  Now Carlotti to me screams “Mill Town” and in such a place, the wearing of an entire Carlotti clothing range may well be regarded as fashionable in the same way the shunning of socks might be by those newer visitors to JBs.  I therefore assumed he was just a slightly crazy civilian.  However then more Carlotti wearers appeared!  It was the Rochdale AFC squad!  Queuing for a coffee, one of them let on to me.  “Hiya mate.  Did you go the match yesterday?” he asked, nodding in the direction of the barscarf around my neck.  “Yeah I did” I said tentatively knowing it was an FC one.  “Berba hattrick – nice” he says thinking Id been watching Big United.  “Ah no sorry mate, this is for FC United.  Don’t spit in my coffee!” I returned with a wink.  Considering they had been beaten by us with a last minute goal, the Rochdale lads were very pleasant.   They asked about FC and how we were doing, which was nice.  They also explained where they were off to.  A training camp in Spain!  Hasn’t Division 2 gone posh!