Relegation zone

It would be extremely fair to say that the Shots have not performed very well so far this season. It all started well but the list of wins stopped growing well before Christmas. We are now sitting perilously close to the drop zone with the threat of a return to non-League football next season.

Tonight we played Torquay so Nicktor turned up at the house in time for us to have a pub dinner and a couple of pints before the kick-off. I’d just like to say that the burgers at the Queen Vic are delicious. I have no idea whether it was horse or cow but it was definitely delicious. Nicktor had his usual All Day Breakfast, leaving about half.

Earlier in the day, the chat boards had been full of the fans’ vitriol for our manager, Dean Holdsworth. As usual, the fans blamed the manager for our poor performances, calling for his removal. This is all a long way from the legendary status he enjoyed last season when we beat West Ham. I’d call it fickle.

Anyway, it’s not just the manager. He can only do so much on the training field and with shouting from the side lines. The only ones who can win or lose the game are the 11 players on the pitch. Once the game gets underway, it’s all up to them.

A lot of the East Bank Boys had decided that, if the game was going badly, they would all leave the game at the 80 minute mark as a clear sign of disgust with the manager. From where we stood on the Slab, none of them went anywhere…which was a good thing as it turned out.

The first half was terrible. Both teams had problems stringing together any kind of attack even with our dismal marking and spent most of the time hoofing the ball back, forth and up. All this did was highlight the fact that we rarely win balls in the air.

We also continued to indulge in the weird throw-in strategy where the ball is lobbed towards the biggest cluster of opposing players in order to give them possession. From the side, this resembles a rugby line out and makes me despair. This is something very fixable and yet, game after game, we keep doing it. Torquay even showed us how to do it properly, continually throwing the ball to their own (unmarked) players.

So, half time arrived and it was still 0-0 with no-one looking like doing very much at all.

Shortly before leaving home, Nicktor had shown me a spreadsheet he’d created, showing his prediction of the end of season positions for the relegation teams. In order to keep on track, Aldershot needed to win tonight. After all, every lost game is a lost opportunity to rise out of the doldrums at the bottom of the League Two table.

One happy incident during the first half had Nicktor make a new friend. He attracts the odd balls with the frequency of a magnet. I think there’s a sign on his back saying ‘Speak to me’ written in the cleverly disguised secret sign writing of the weirdos.

The chap tonight looked like a tramp and spoke like an intellectual, throwing out words like ‘plethora’ with careless abandon as he explained to Nicktor that football is the easiest game in the world to play. Two teams, one ball, four sticks in the ground and the aim to kick the ball between them. He expanded on his theory to say there were only really two rules: offside and ball handling.

For these reasons, he claimed, the game was perfect as well as simple and it made him wonder why Aldershot couldn’t do it very well. His gravely and clearly educated voice was like an annoying buzzing insect behind me, briefly interrupted by Nicktor trying to make logical points in his fair, measured fashion.

Then, suddenly, ten minutes before the half time whistle, Nicktor’s new friend suddenly declared he was off to the bar and left us. We never saw him again. That was quite a good thing.

The second half was pretty much the same as the first until about the 83rd minute when, out of nothing, we scored. Troy Brown managed to find himself with the ball at his feet following a goal mouth scramble and he slotted it home.

Then, in a bit of insanity unfortunately seen all too often on the football pitch, Brown and the rest of the team tackled the Aldershot mascot, piling on top of the poor chap. It took a while to clear the players away, leaving Brown and the Phoenix lying on the ground. Eventually the Phoenix managed to drag his over sized head off the ground and staggered to his feet. Brown was helped to his feet and hobbled back onto the pitch.

A short while later, Brown went down during a short passage of play and didn’t get up again. The coaching staff raced on to help him and, eventually, supported him between them as they led him off the pitch, down the tunnel and into the inner sanctum. One bit of stupidity and we were down to ten men (all three substitutes had already been made) with more than enough time for Torquay to equalise.

When the board went up showing there was an extra four minutes of stoppage time to play, we were all standing on the edge of our terraces, hoping we could retain our grip on the three points so tantalisingly close.

And retain it, we did. The final whistle blew and the fans all started breathing again as the players left the field, happy for once. It’s been a while since we could go home, happy with the game. Now, for Fleetwood on Saturday…