Saturday's game against Bristol City was my first Rovers game of the season. After being away for so long, I came home sooner than anticipated on the Friday, which meant I was off to the game on Saturday. Being a Southerner it is hard to see my beloved Rovers too often, but when they come down this end of the country, I drop everything to be there. I had nothing to drop, so off I went.
I had never been to Bristol City before. The last time Rovers were down in this league I was a lot younger, so we only went to Ewood or grounds we had been to before. Perhaps I was a tad spoilt by the Premier League, because although Ashton Gate would not be classed as a hole, it was most uncomfortable.
First off, we didn't take many fans. No surprise there. We do well just to have a fan at every game. We could sit anywhere, and since we arrived very early, we decided to sit in the second row, just behind the goal. It had a delightful view. We were mere yards from the players. What did strike us as concerning was that there were no backs for the seats. We were in effect, sat on a bench. Everyone had their own individual bum-grooved piece of plastic to plonk down their bottom, but if someone were to make an astute quip about David Dunn's fitness, you better be careful, because one could literally fall of their chair with laughter.
Funnily enough, the seats still folded up when you got off them.
To my ever growing concern, I noticed that the advertising hoardings were lacking in recognisable brand names. Instead of multi-national organisations offering intangible produtcs and expensive luxuries, working class fellows from the local area were attempting to draw attention to their menial services, such as building and plumbing. How quaint.
One of the best views in the ground was in the fourth row. It was completely obstructed by a large red pillar. When did these come back into football? Was the pillar charged admission?
Before I took my seat, I made a visit to the washroom. With an hour until kick-off, there was time within my schedule to drop some friends off at the pool. I had the choice of not one, but TWO cubicles, both of which were out of paper. To discover this, one had to enter the cubicle itself, which felt more akin to a phonebox than to a thunderbox. As the door opened, it went in towards the porcelain, missing it by a centimetre. This meant that to leave, one would have to climb over the toilet. Within our £25 fee, we did not know that it included an obstacle course.
Upon exiting the washroom, I noted that the laminated piece of A4 paper above the sink stated that during the game, running water can and will become scarce, due to the large demands placed upon the water supply. They had kindly provided some alcohol based hand wash just next to the soap, that assured the reader it would do just as good a job at cleansing one's hands as soap and water. That's easy for you to say, you're just a sign.
The staff and the stewards made it appear to be a very humourless place. To buy food, you had to go through more security checks than US customs. They have a glass window separating the patrons from the clerks, much like in a bank. There was however, no microphone. I would lean down and put my head through the gap to ensure that the lady behind the counter could hear my order. She had a very thick Bristol accent and appeared to be delightful as she said "So you want no lettuce or nuffin?" when my father requested that there be no salad in his cheeseburger, stating clearly he wished for just the cheese and the burger. In his buoyant manner, ready for the game, he mimicked her accent and said "Nah, no lettuce or nuffin". She appeared to have not recognised this jibe, and proceeded to prepare our food. We continued making fun of her later as we enjoyed our rock hard, salad-less and cheese-less cheeseburger.
I must admit that I was a little disappointed with my fellow Rovers fans. After around twenty minutes of abuse and songs from the Bristol City fans, the best retort we could compose was to sing "Have you ever won the Premier League?". Good job guys. Let's point out to this group of fans that we used to be great, highlighting our embarrassing and depressing fall from grace into this lower league. That will certainly shut them up.
The game itself though has to be the most entertaining I have ever seen. It had good goals, and lots of goals. The lack of standards within the ground meant that we were able to experience pitch-side as if we really were on the pitch. It was exciting, fast paced, and Bristol City didn't seem to care that we have a lot of international players in our squad. Nuno Gomes was kicked just about every time he got the ball, as I would instruct my players to do if they had someone of his calibre and glorious past playing for them.
Twice late on we thought we had won the game. As Ruben Rochina's goal hit the back of the net, there were a flurry of fans that made their way straight to the divide between us and the home fans. One of whom was so happy, he decided to loosen his trousers and expose his bottom to the City fans. His red rosey cheeks were symbolic of the stress that game put us through.
Attempting to top his predecessor, another young man was so elated when Jordan Rhodes put in the fifth and final goal, he took off his shirt, grabbed his stomach, and wobbled it at the Bristol fans. It was the tribal dance of the fat pastey white man.
All three Bristol City goals were Steve Kean's fault. It's only fair to blame him. He was playing awfully. If I was manager, I would have substituted Steve Kean right away.
This game put Rovers top of the league, going five games unbeaten in the Championship. We have a better and more in depth squad than we did last season when we were in the Premier League. An even more encouraging sign is that we have more than one goalscorer. Last season there was a huge dependence upon the Yak. Now we have many players who are capable of scoring goals, so if one of them is having a bad game, there are others who can step up.
It's encouraging, but it's a long season in the Championship, especially for Premier League snobs.
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