Why write a diary now? Several reasons: Firstly, inspiration, having started on Shots in the Dark, David Kynaston’s wonderful account of following Aldershot from 2016, with reflections on a life in football. This will be different to that. Forest are not Aldershot. I am slightly younger that David and have seen different things. I certainly have different expectations, the curse of history. Next, there is the Covid-effect. We might be returning to the new normal, but it isn’t the old normal. Things have change, including those expectations and sense of what is important. Thirdly, there is the suspicion that this might be a momentous season. Let’s qualify that. I mean personally. As a Forest fan of 50 years standing, that could mean any of many things: a) promotion and going on to be a dominant and domestic football for many years, winning acclaim, friends and European trophies as we do or b) relegation to League One, the old Third Division or c) heartbreakingly missing out on promotion, throwing a commanding automatic or play-off position away in the process or d) a miserable, dour plod to some point in between b) and c). Instinctively, d) seems the most likely and could be the straw which breaks this particular camel’s back. Like many others, I’m not sure how much I can take and have only renewed my season ticket after Covid with a sense of not quite knowing what else to do on a Saturday and wanting to see long-standing mates again.
Covid has led many people to re-evaluate their lives and what is important and I suspect football fans are no different. Does it matter that much? Was it that badly missed? Are there better ways to spend your time and money?
So, a diary might capture a big moment in my own life and and might shed some light on where the game is at in the post-Covid era. Then again, it might not. But I’m sure it will be therapeutic!
Not that it would have made any difference to me, being away on holiday anyway, but the season kicks off tomorrow with a ludicrous 4pm kick off at Coventry. The joys of Sky.
The season start is unexpectedly brought forward by the sighting of a flyer in a North Wales chippy, promoting a home match for Llanfairfechan Town v Caergybi today. It’s the 2nd round of the FAW Trophy and the hosts are fund-raising to support the family of a local girl tragically drowned last week. A quick exchange fo posts on Facebook and we’re committed to going.
The Rec in Llanfairfechan is quiet on arrival. Both teams are warming up, but we have no idea which is which. The greetings are warm and sincere though and we take up a spot on the touchline. A rheumy-eyed gent of about 70 is propping up the fence adjacent to us. He seems to be wearing a jacket with a Forest tree on the breast, the initials PW on the other side. This transpires to be Pete Williams, local boy and once goalkeeping coach at Forest under the inimitable William McIntosh Davies. In the 2009-10 season, Billy Davies led an exciting Forest team to a second successive play-off catastrophe and was sacked in 2011. 2013 saw a return to Forest, by then under the bizarre regime of Fawaz al-Hazawi. For reasons best known only to himself, Billy took the North Korean option to club management, banning the press, haranguing photographers and employing a barred solicitor as his special advisor. An eight-match winless run meant missing out on the play-offs (perhaps a blessing, given the the record) and the sack for Billy, who continued to churn out weird conspiracy theories and alienate the media and fans alike.
Safe to say, Pete was still a fan. “A great man who will be back to prove the doubters wrong.” Billy seems to inspire this sort of loyalty. I remember an evening listening to Paul McKenna speak equally lovingly of him, whilst still perhaps acknowledging some, errrm, eccentricities. I’d gladly see Billy III. It couldn’t possibly be any less dull than of late.
The match was a close-fought affair, better than expected. The players showed commitment and no small amount of skill – the kind of match which makes you realise just how good ‘real’ footballers are and how physical and quick the modern game is, even at this level. I played school team football in the 70s but this would have broken me.
The visitors won with a long range header in a rain-sodden second half. A match played in a committed but friendly way nearly descended into fisticuffs, but order was soon resumed with a shout from the touchline reminding the miscreant of the presence of small children. We pondered the joys of the Welsh language, which had dominated the arty-bargy and wondered whether there was not a word for wanker or whether it might just be wancwr.
Pete left early for a do, but not before having regaled us with tales of court cases to get payment from Fawaz, a bet with Rangers legend Derek McFarlane regarding whether or not he could pull again before he hit 70 and how concerned he was for the health of 29 stone Neville Southall, another mate. Other honourable mentions to Dino Zoff and Peter Bonetti, gentlemen both, but not so Nigel Clough, seemingly despised by Billy and his team after allegedly kicking out at them on the touchline at Derby in 2010. Pete’s view, and presumably Billy’s too, being that no one at Forest wanted to know, given Nigel’s status as “Son of God”.
Elsewhere, the Championship got off to a less than inspiring start with a series of matches and results that it is hard to care about.
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