Viva Rovers

In my column for Issue 55 of the fanzine Popular Stand (which went on sale at the weekend) I examined the nature of being a football supporter, and the different interpretations of what it means to support a club. Given the reaction from a few readers to our report of Rovers’ match with Southampton at the weekend, I thought it may be timely to reproduce that article here for wider viewing; Continue reading →

I’m not sure why Barnsley versus Doncaster Rovers has never properly taken off as a derby game. Its got all the ingredients; proximity for a start, plus the roots of mutual hatred based on more similarities than folk seem prepared to admit. Last season, in the away end toilets at Oakwell, stood a bloke loudly proclaiming how backwards and disgusting the local population were… whilst simultaneously taking a piss and using both hands to send a text. As rivalries go, it’s certainly got legs. Continue reading →

Little more than a year ago, aboard a Belgrade bound train at Bijelo-Polje on the Serbian-Montenegrin border. Hungover, sleep-deprived and nurturing an ill-thought-out late-breakfast beer, in the company of three fellow Wales and the loudest buffet car operator this side of the Caucasus’. After some time waiting the border guard appeared; he looked over my passport, smirked, and as he handed it back to me said “Ah, Doncaster… good football”. Continue reading →

“You were born in Doncaster so you should support England” they’d say. Perhaps. But in the trophy cupboard in the front room there was this cap. Nestling between Station FC Players’ Player of the Year and Anglesey League Champions 1973-74, a dark red cap. It was velvety to touch, with an odd metallic tassel, was too small even for my head and it had a dragon on the front. I couldn’t just ignore that. The fact that the man it belonged too was reluctant to speak of it made it even more alluring. Continue reading →

The Magic of the Cup, though often spoken of, has never truly been defined. As such I know not where pieces of silver sponsored by electricity companies sit upon the spectrum of the black arts. However, if pushed to estimate I would suggest a location with significantly greater allure than standing on a freezing mouse-ridden platform at Birmingham New Street being mocked by two pre-pubescent kids in replica shirts squeezed over the top of multiple tracksuits. Yet, at 11:00pm tonight, that is precisely where I found myself with Rovers having exited the Cup like an over-dunked Rich Tea biscuit; messily and without resolve. Continue reading →

“Cracking first half there Blades” said the man on the tannoy as the teams traipsed off at half-time. If he was being sincere then United must have been absolutely woeful under Gary Speed and John Carver.  The first forty-five minutes of “the bright new era” (tannoy man again) had not only been devoid of goals, but almost bereft of shots on goal too. Rovers had passed and moved, but the killer final ball had just evaded them. United had huffed and puffed and failed to find anything beyond a third consecutive pass that didn’t constitute a big hoik forward. As bright new eras go, it was up there with the current coalition government. Continue reading →

Kinder Eggs. Advent Calendars. Favourite footballers. Three things that it’s acceptable for children to have, but not so much for grown men. Perhaps because with age our excitement and wonderment is displaced by the realism that these things we were once so giddy about turned out to be a bit of a let-down, for the most part hollow and decidedly over-priced. Or perhaps it’s because our wives or girlfriends won’t let us. Continue reading →

Ah, was it not Lady Mary Currie, in her literary guise as Violet Fane, who once said “all good things come to he who waits”. Well, it was either her or Matt Le Blanc in that pointless Tomato Ketchup advert where he left the bottle on top of the bridge. Or Guinness. Anyway, as usual I digress. The point of this post was to announce that seven weeks after winning our ‘Brooker Prize’ competition, Stuart Leyland, was finally presented his prize at the weekend, a coveted Viva Rovers mug. We had hoped to get Steve Brooker to present the award himself, but sadly he wasn’t there. Or perhaps he was and we didn’t recognise him. Either way, we found a willing substitute in Rovers versatile defender James O’Connor, seen here presenting Stu with his mug (James is the one on the left). Continue reading →

I remember the last time I chanted “We want six” at an away game – you do when it happens so rarely. Boxing Day at Scarborough’s McCain Stadium 2002, another 5-2 win, and a sign that Rovers were heading in the right direction. That day had it all, a big victory over (relatively) local rivals and a side we’d always struggled to beat, a sending off for an ex-Rovers player and a giddy packed away end who sensed our non-league sojourn was coming to an end. The Wedlock Stand at Ashton Gate may not have been as full of Rovers fans on Saturday, the opponents not as eagerly anticipated, but this match was every bit as good an away day. Continue reading →

And so we wind our ten years in five teams feature up with the last and most certainly least impressive XI. We’ve had the good, the cult, the borrowed and the worldly of Rovers players of the last decade and now it’s time to bow out on a low point with the Worst XI to represent Doncaster Rovers in the Noughties. To ensure we encompass all available awfulness we’ve tinkered with the formation once again to play a suitably danger-laden 3-4-3 system. Continue reading →

A work meeting means I have to go to Cheltenham this afternoon. It’ll be just the second time that I have stepped foot in the town and my first visit since the day when Rovers fell at the final hurdle in the race for automatic promotion back in May 2008. Thankfully of course it all turned out OK in the end, but at the time we weren’t to know that. To acknowledge my return to the town of the damned and also the recent receipt of much of our old content rescued from S** Sp***s termination of Rivals let us take you back to our diary acount of what we dubbed at the time The Longest Day. Continue reading →