Farewell to Guido

There's a brief report of the farewell to Gordon Lennon at the Strathclyde Home Stadium from the Dumbarton website here, with pictures.

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A day to remember

Various commitments, combined with a distance of 360+ miles, means that I will not be able to attend the farewell for Dumbarton captain Gordon Lennon, which is taking place today. But my thoughts and prayers are most definitely with with those who do - and, of course, with Guido's family, partner, friends and young baby. Occasions like (and the funeral tomorrow) this can be very difficult and upsetting. Nothing can wipe away the tragedy of a young life snuffed out prematurely by sheer happenstance. Yet funerals are, more positively, a chance to remember, to give thanks, to resolve for life and to regain a sense of perspective on what and who really matters in the midst of the world's joyous and grievous oddnesses - including football. It will be different things for different people. Meanwhile, Robert Ryan is also galvanising a group of fans to work on a testimonial and memorial match and more. Good on ya, Rab, and all at DFC, who have handled the pain of recent days in a way truly befitting a community club.

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Tributes for Gordon...

At Dumbarton's SHS Stadium. Also 

a statement from the Lennon family.

Picture courtesy of Gilbert Lawrie.

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Bittersweet memories

Of all the numerous fine photos of Gordon Lennon around at the moment, for some reason this one (courtesy of Sonstrust and (c) photographer Donald Fullarton) is my favourite. Celebrating Dumbarton's recent Third Division Championship trophy with the fans. Very touching, and  one of many to remember him by. Good to speak today to several friends in and around DFC. The sadness is immense, but there are also heartwarming stories of human kindness and solidarity abounding.

Gordon Lennon, 15/02/83 – 7/06/09

Like everyone connected with Dumbarton FC I was really shocked to hear this evening of the tragic death on Sunday of Club captain, Gordon Lennon, in a road accident. Just 26, with a 5-month-old child, about to be married, and having just lifted a trophy for the Sons which he regarded as the highlight of his far-from-finished career - he had so much more to give and receive. An awful loss. Words can seem so superfluous in the face of such tragedy. But they are frankly all we have, and though they can never take away the rawness and loss, they can, strangely and gradually, comfort, console, unite and reconnect us to life. The messages on the Sons Trust website, from people across the country and from other teams, as well as from the locality, are very touching to read. More can be added here. 

I'm very grateful to Campbell Yule for letting me know about Gordon, as I had been otherwise occupied all day and had not checked the DFC site or seen the (now numerous) news reports. His own picture and anecdote are fine. As are Robert Ryan's comments on The Ben Lomond Free Press. Meanwhile Dumbarton CEO Gilbert Lawrie, who knows about tragic loss all too well, has reminded us of the picture many will want to remember Gordon by.  See also the Evening Times report, and others in The Scottish Daily Record and even (for once!) the Scottish Sun: "No one at Sons will ever forget Gordon's smile". 

As for those Trust site messages, two stand out for me. Tommy Hughes writes: "Still numb with shock. A gentleman on and off the park, all round a helluva nice guy. Always smiling and an inspiration to everyone, young and old. [He] will be sadly missed by all the fans, staff and players at DFC. My thoughts and prayers are with Kelly, Kai and his family. RIP Gordon." Meanwhile, John Doyle, who knew Guido well, wrote: "I managed Gordon over a number of years during his time playing with Maryhill Boys Club and Harmony Row Under-21s. He was an absolute delight to work with, always smiling and game for a laugh with his team mates."

John adds: "Gordon was not only one of my best players but he was a close friend too. In fact we both used to get slagged at Harmony Row because we also spent a lot of time together outwith football, therefore everyone used to say he was “ma boy!”. I cannot put into words how proud I was of Gordon and all that he had achieved in his career. My deepest thoughts and prayers are with Gordon’s family but especially with [his fiancee] Kelly and his son Kai. Rest in Peace Guido x."

The picture above shows Gordon Lennon, on the right, with Dumbarton manager Jim Chapman, holding the 2008-9 Irn Bru Scottish Third Division Championship Trophy. I was there to see it lifted, and those memories will remain as long as I do. 

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Watching the Sons shine upon us

So in the end it wouldn’t have mattered if Shire had scored 180 times in 90 minutes, let alone 18. Dumbarton’s well-deserved 3-1 win against Annan Athletic meant that we finally claimed the Scottish Third Division title today with points to spare and no thought of goal difference.

From the outset it was a carnival atmosphere. When I arrived in Annan just after 12.30pm, Sons supporters were all over town – apparently soaking up rather more than the pre-match atmosphere! After refreshments, photos, banter and some singing at the local social club (for whom Christmas had come earlier than expected), I joined the steady stream of supporters into the ground at 2.10pm.

Weather wise, the Borders microclimate decided to throw everything at us: wind, rain, sunshine, icy chill, warm spells, blue sky and menacing storm clouds. OK, I made the ‘warm spells’ bit up. It was decidedly nippy throughout. Nothing, however, could suppress the enthusiasm of the hundreds of Dumbarton supporters ringing three sides of the pitch (standing room only!) and filling the away allocation in the stand.

The Annan faithful bore the Sons party with remarkable good grace, given their own disappointment at having failed to secure a play-off place by losing 1-0 to Stenny at Ochilview last week. They’ve had a good first season in the SFL, having taken fated Gretna’s place with only days to go back in July ’08. The club has a strong community and family atmosphere, and they worked hard to provide the facilities for today’s match – even if the pitch, which was soaked and cut up before the game commenced – still needs a good deal of work on it. I wish them well.

As to the football itself on this august occasion, it was uneven, directed by the swirling winds, and dominated overall by Dumbarton. The Galabankies did far more than make up the numbers, but they couldn’t get a proper handle on the match to spoil Sons’ party, as they would surely have wished. It was 1-0 to the Mighty DFC at half-time, whereupon the queues for the portaloos and food outlets grew to bladder-threatening and stomach-distending proportions. My vegetarian lunch at the nearby social had consisted of John Smiths Bitter and crisps. In the ground itself I was able to extend that health-conscious diet with, er, chips and ketchup. No tasty Dumbarton macaroni cheese pies here, I’m afraid. Just the dead animal kind.

Then the heavens opened, and so did my brolly… after about ten minutes. I’m no southern softy! On cue, the second half commenced, Dumbarton scored a well-taken goal number two, the sun appeared and we conceded a scrappy one at this end – with more than a hint of a foul in Annan’s build-up. This put paid to the possibility of an eighth clean sheet in a row, but with the crown about to be passed into the hands of the Rock’s football kings, who really cared? Besides, a third and decisive Sons strike followed as a fitting finale, and the ground erupted as the final whistle blew.

Then Dumbarton fans cheered and bided their time through the presentation ceremony near the centre of the field (which involved a walk-on ovation for each player and the manager, before the captain finally lifted the trophy aloft)… and then the comparatively well-ordered pitch invasion began. Even law-abiding types such as myself succumbed, and only as the afternoon sun drew in did the gradual dispersal begin.

I haven’t yet heard how the bus-top parade back in Dumbarton went, as I had to hit the trains to Birmingham rather than venture further north. But I’m sure the celebrations continued in style at the Strathclyde Homes Stadium. It’s a pity Annan and Berwick aren’t in Division Two, as they are my only SFL ‘day trips’ from the English midlands. But I’ll be back at the Rock again as soon as I can next term. As for today, it’ll keep those brain synapses busy for years to come.

Oh, and then there are the pictures. They’re fairly low-grade stuff from my mobile phone, I’m afraid; with more to come. The first shows Sons on the attack (or, rather, Annan on the defensive) in the first half. Then my rather rictus-style grin during the break was occasioned by the perils of performing a self-portrait by guesswork, while perched on one leg for elevation and good – or perhaps not so good! – measure. The third one shows Gordon Lennon sharing that all-important trophy with the assembled throng. G’night, fair world… it is for Sons fans, at last.

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Here's to you, Mary

Last time I was at Galabank, just before Christmas, the hospitality was wonderful in the Annan Athletic club house, but the pitch and the football were dire... and Dumbarton lost right at the end of the game. Little did I suspect on that damp day that I would be returning in May 2009 to watch my beloved Sons being crowned Third Division Champions. (Yes, I know I keep going on about it, but moons are not often blue.)  Anyway, today the club house is closed to visiting supporters, I imagine for health and safety reasons, or possibly because the Annan faithful - who have their own reasons to celebrate a fine first season in the SFL - want a bit of peace and quiet! There's also going to be strict separation of supporters in the ground itself. This means that it is unlikely that I will get to say 'hello' to one very distinguished and venerable Galabankies fan. Mary Burns in a sprightly 95-years-old. I met her son, Michael, a JP, at the conference I was involved with in Sheffield two weeks ago. She attends as many home games as possible. Sometimes, however, she can't go because a friend of hers who is "much older" (97!) can be a little frail. Well, I hope you have a marvellous day, Mary.   Even if there are a lot of annoying Dumbarton supporters around going on and on about their triumph!

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The biggest party of the year

Now, where was I? Ah, yes. Preparing for what, for all Dumbarton fans, will be a wonderful day at Galabank tomorrow, as we (hopefully) end the season with a victory over Annan Athletic, and then -- almost whatever happens here or with East Stirling -- collect the Irn Bru Scottish Football League Division Three winner's trophy. I was too young to get to the '71-72 Second Division championship decider, and I was out of the country when we lifted the title again in '91-92, so this is a 'first' in my lifetime. And very, very special it is, too. When you support a small (read: real) football team, such occasions are rare delights and absolutely not to be missed. Transport providers and other logistical factors, please note! 

Meanwhile, I still haven't processed my mobile phone photos from last Saturday's 6-0 decisive and stunning  triumph over Elgin, or my reflections from that momentous day, and afternoon, and evening... and early morning. But they will follow, together with some more wonderful memories from 9 May 2009, I trust. Goodness, I'm well into my anecdotage already. The really good thing about being on the cusp of triumph for a whole week, with a virtually unassailable 18-goal difference, is that you get two huge bites at the celebratory cherry.  An uncomplicated outright win wouldn't have allowed that in quite the same way. 

Sadly, as I am committed to a rail 'away day' from Birmingham, I shall not be around when the  squad return to the Strathclyde Homes Stadium in the evening after being officially crowned Third Division Champions. There will be a bus tour, a Your Radio special, and yet another party. But Andy Galloway interviewed me, along with other ex-pats, on the phone for the Lennox Herald earlier today. So I might make it to the 'final cut'. That matters little compared to the shared celebrations. But it's good to be just a tiny part of football history, even so. 

[Photos (c) Donald Fullarton... please give him your business. The top one of Dumbarton captain Gordon Lennon and his baby is a particular gem.]

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Rain on their parade? Nah...

I will not be in Exeter tomorrow to witness the Grecians' victorious parade around the town centre to celebrate second place in English League Two and automatic promotion to League One - in their first season back in the football league. That's because I have a prior loyalty and commitment to Dumbarton's Third Division title party at Annan. As a supporter for almost 40 years, I couldn't be anywhere else! But as an Exeter resident for nearly six years now, a strong backer of Trusts (I'm naturally a member of the Sons' one), a regular at St James' Park (when I don't have the time or money to get to Scotland), a writer for the superb programme (well done, again, Mike Blackstone), and someone who naturally cheers my 'local heroes'... well, I'm really chuffed for them, too. What a season it's been! So have a great day, City fans. Oh, and even though, as Pete Martin and the weather forecasts might suggest, there could be laden clouds in the southwest tomorrow, surely no amount of liquid sunshine will dampen the spirits there.  

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Respect is a two-way street

Strange how football sometimes conspires to turn you against your most basic instincts. While deploring the moronic threats against referee Tom Henning Ovrebo following the Chelsea-Barcelona Champions League semi-final, I can't help feeling a bit sorry for the Blues. There, never thought I'd say that about the billionaires!  In truth, Barcelona are by far the better side, but on the night in question it's hard but to conclude that they would have lost if one of the two pretty solid penalty decisions had gone Chelsea's way. The referee did, I think, lack the experience needed for this particular sporting cauldron, and a number of his decisions - including the Barca sending off, too - were woeful. He was honest enough to admit that afterwards, and doesn't in any way deserve the calumny or abuse. 

That said, UEFA are being typically smug and aloof over the matter. Drogba and Ballack cannot finally be defended, but they are easy targets and are not the only problem to be tackled. You can't have players throwing abusive tantrums, but when the system itself, and the mistakes it makes or masks, seems immune to common sense, due humility and the exercise of proper discretion (no doubt for 'good' litigious reasons), the boiling point is bound to be reached more readily. Meanwhile, I very much hope that Scotland's Darren Fletcher is given a reprieve for the Champions League final, following his clearly erroneous red card and concomitant suspension in the Arsenal semi. This is one case where the 'no appeal' rule will result in a clear injustice if the officials do not relent. And no, I'm not a Manchester United sympathiser normally, either. I wanted Wenger's youngsters to win.  I doubt that decency will prevail in the Fletcher case, but this instance does give UEFA a chance to show that it can exercise a sense of natural justice. 

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Champions in all but name!

The Sons have done it! Not withstanding an 18-goal mishap next week, which, I confidently predict, is not gonna happen, the Scottish Third Division Title 2008-9 belongs to Dumbarton. But I'm too exhausted with celebrating to say anything informative, sensible or even downright silly. So you'll have to wait a wee while for that...   Meanwhile, hearty congratulations also to my 'local heroes' Exeter City, who have achieved a second promotion in a row by winning automatic ascent to English League One. 

Monday update:  (May the Fourth be with you, and all that...!) There are now some fine 'almost Champions' celebration photos by Donald Fullarton viewable here. I imagine he might just sell a few. Also, here are some snaps from the Elgin match itself, which, as an afterthought, we won 6-0, in case you didn't notice. I'm still in shock. I have some mobile phone pics of my own, which I will add when I get a moment. I managed to keep out of the frame myself, I think. I shouldn't be so camera-shy... 

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It's the big one. Well, the first of two

First published in Sons View, 02 May 2009, Dumbarton -v- Elgin

When the final whistle went at the Rock last Saturday, to rapturous scenes from Dumbarton fans, I was soberly answering questions from the platform of a conference in Sheffield. Then my mobile phone buzzed. Not too loudly, thankfully. I managed to sneak a glance at the all-important message from Denise Currie: “4-0 super Sons. Cowden lost 2-1. We’re top o’ the league and they’re no’!” it read.

I let out what I though was a quiet cheer, though according to the reaction of at least one startled punter in the front row it may have been nearer to the clearance signal on a jet airliner. Was I bovvered? Not remotely… Just momentarily distracted by dreams of glory, like every other Sons fan.

The cold sweat wasn’t long coming, mind. You don’t have to have been a Dumbarton supporter for many years – let alone to have witnessed the various ups and downs this season has offered during our gradual assault on the summit – to fear a latent capacity to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Jim Chapman’s dressing room will also have included one or two pointed mentions of chickens and why they are not for counting, I’m sure.

But this is no time for negativity. Pack up your cynicism in your old kit bag, and smile, smile, smile as loudly as possible for the ensuing 90 minutes against Elgin. If you’re like me and always feel a smidgeon of sympathy for the team propping up the table (we’ve been there a few times and know what it’s like), suspend that goodwill until the points have been secured. Then be magnanimous in victory. Aw, go on, it won’t hurt…

The key thing is that Sons now have their destiny for season 2008-9 firmly in their own hands. I almost said ‘our hands’, because the fans are as much a part of the Club as anyone else. But only the select few will be required to demonstrate graft, guile and skill on the pitch. This is a good thing, overall. It leaves us shouting our advice from the sidelines, where it belongs. Because if anything depended on my footballing gifts, we’d be scuppered. So I’ll stick to terrace encouragement, having wheedled a long weekend north of the border so that I can grab a seat to perch upon … edgily.

Meanwhile, the Statistics of Destiny, which I’ve mentioned a few times this season, are not complex. Given goal differences, four points will almost certainly crown us Third Division champions, barring a goal spree by the competition that would defy most expectations. More baldly, two wins and six points guarantees it. So that’s what the aim must be. Relying on others to fail for you is the worst recipe for end-of-season hypochondria.

Right now, I’m sure we’ll make it. But whatever unfolds between now and the end of next week’s away game against Annan (which I also plan to attend in a ‘day trip’ from my intermediate Birmingham bolt-hole), this season has seen an extraordinary turn-around. What an achievement!

All football loyalists question the sanity of the manager and players at times, especially the four-pint pundits. But to be where we find ourselves at this stage could hardly be bettered. The great run all winning sides need has come at the right time, and we are all praying that recent form can continue to deliver what all the hard work surely merits: a title for the first time since 1991-92, when Dumbarton clinched the Second Division Championship.

Football writes its best scripts in blood as well as champagne. So the fact that we are also marking the 25th anniversary of Dumbarton reaching the Premier Division is bound to be part of our thinking. The top prize this year would certainly add a wonderful final note to the book on Sons in the SPL that your programme editor and I have been working on. But in terms of what we need to do this afternoon, it matters not a whit. Romance in football is a hopeful afterthought, not a blithe promise.

As for the play-offs, well the ‘p’ word is probably even more taboo than the ‘c’ one. But breaking the spell is no bad thing. Superstition, be damned. More games for a second prize would seem a bitter consolation now we’ve got this far, but it’s also a safety net which should take away just enough of the fear to leave the adrenalin we need. ’Mon Sons!

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Yes, I know...

... I'm at least two programme notes behind (on the blog, anyway). Life has been busy. Fingers crossed for the Sons this afternoon. Also Exeter City, who need a win away against Rotherham to guarantee an automatic promotion place from English League Two. It's nail-biting time, folks.

Meanwhile, normal service on Only Just Offside will be resumed apres le excitement...

[Footnote: OK, the missing columns are now here and here, respectively]

Strangle that parrot, someone

First published in Sons View, 25 April 2008, Dumbarton -v- Forfar

Successful football teams don’t have half-hearted fans. By that measure alone, Dumbarton FC certainly deserves the prize we all covet: an unassailable place at the top of the table come the end of this season. Will we do it? Jim and the lads are taking it one step at a time, and rightly so.

Meanwhile, you can say many things about Sons fans: we cheer, we moan, we celebrate, we complain, we drown our joys and sorrows. But a casual shrug and a nonchalant “whatever” doesn’t really come into it. Especially if the Apache Army have their way!

The players and manager are going to need all the verbal encouragement and positive lungpower you can muster this afternoon. Understandably, there will be a mixture of excitement and nervousness as we face Forfar, who have their own significant agenda. The Loons are pressing hard for a play-off place, while we would like to do everything we can to avoid one – by going up as champions.

There, I’ve said it. The dreaded ‘C’ word. Well, the main one that Chappie has probably banned from the dressing room and training pitch, anyway. For Dumbarton’s task is clear. Dreams alone won’t suffice, we need maximum points from the next three games, and then we have to hope that others fail to hold their nerve in the same resolute way. That’s why sticking together is so vital.

Naturally there was some disappointment at yet another shutout (the fifth in a row) against Cowdenbeath at Central Park last weekend. A win would have put us securely in the driving seat for top spot. But looked at another way, it makes no difference to the challenge we face right now, at home against Elgin next week, and for the visit to Annan on 9 May. We have to go on winning. Full stop.

The good news is that the Sons emerge on the pitch this afternoon undefeated in their last five games. The lads haven’t conceded in that time and have claimed four 2-0 victories in a row since 31 March. That’s quite a tiger in the tank for this encounter.

Remember that old expression? It’s almost as ancient as the ubiquitous “sick as a parrot”, which you used to hear from managers and players after some cruel twist of football fortune. Or did you? The parrot was actually invented by Private Eye magazine in the 1960s, and like a lot of football clichés went unchallenged until somebody noticed that it had fallen virtually into disuse.

The past few seasons have been tough for Sons, but as the climax to this season nears we finally have a chance to strangle that bloody parrot! Metaphorically, of course. Meanwhile, a different kind of football phrase has made its way into the sporting lexicon: “Squeaky bum time.” This is something all teams, managers and fans on the threshold of success or failure are said to be experiencing right now, while we perch anxiously on the edge of our seats.

Poor Rafa Benitez got a complicated psychological explanation when he expressed puzzlement at the term in a Liverpool press conference on 2 April. But according to linguist Gary Martin (who contributes regularly to the online Phrase Thesaurus), the saying first made it into print on 18 March 2003, courtesy of Sir Alex Ferguson and The Daily Express.

Of course, “squeaky bum time” could only find its way into our language in an era when a majority of fans actually are seated. Whatever you think of the continual demise of terraces, in the lower reaches of Scottish football too, you’ve got to admit that it’s a bit less of an uncomfortable experience than “wet step time.” Enough said.

It so happens that the estimable Dr Martin, who is tracking football lingo and much else beside, hails from Sheffield. And that is where I shall be this afternoon, while you hopefully watch the Sons steaming to victory. I’d wanted to make it up from Exeter for both the game and the noble ‘Walk to the Rock’, but work has intervened.

Wild horses won’t keep me away from SHS next weekend, however, and I’ll probably end up forking out a small fortune on the train to Annan via Birmingham and Carlisle, too. A day trip, theoretically, and worth every penny. Because whatever choice words you use to express what you’re feeling right now, the Sons are in with a shout – and they need you.

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One more big push

First published in The Grecian, 25 April 2009, Exeter City -v- Morcambe

I’m still shaking my head in disbelief. Not at that freak goal we gained in the last few breaths of the away game at Lincoln City last week – though that was extraordinary enough. No, it’s the fact that we are almost at the end of the season that I’m still having difficulty taking in.

Where did it all go? When City kicked off their first term back in the Football League after a five-year absence and a good deal of turmoil, I was imagining a good, safe mid-table position to ‘steady the ship’. A play-off place or better wasn’t really on my radar. Maybe I’ve spent too many years following football minnows.

But the management, fans and playing staff here at St James’ Park were not so un-ambitious. So I hold my hands up. You were right Pete Martin (even if you have been living in Plymouth!), and Ron, Richard, Chris, Pauline and the others I enjoy sitting with. A top six finish wasn’t out of the question. Nor is League One next season. Indeed it’s agonisingly close.

This is why Paul Tisdale will have been reminding his dressing room that nothing has been secured yet. Not the title (that’s Brentford’s to lose), not automatic promotion (though that is in the Grecians’ hands now) and not a third trip in a row to Wembley – the one we are all hoping to avoid this time. Except as a consolation prize.

Whatever happens over the next two games, no-one can deny that this season has been an outstanding success for Exeter City, and a tribute to all who have been involved in projecting this Club back towards the footballing heights that it isn’t ever right to say you ‘deserve’ – it has to be earned by skill, craft and sheer guts.

Which brings us back to the match against Morecambe this afternoon. Unfortunately, work commitments mean that I am missing what we all hope will be the last home game of the campaign – even if that means just a little less live action before the summer break. I will be checking my text alerts, though, as will many others. The crowd for the match against Wycombe was fantastic. This time round it will be even larger. But don’t forget the thousands across the country (and indeed the world) who “follow the City” through radio, the web and other media.

Our opponents today are no strangers. They are welded to us by history. Memories of 20 May 2007 would be rather more painful if the Grecians had not grabbed their subsequent Wembley promotion opportunity in 2008, but even in defeat that first ‘big outing’ against the Shrimps prepared City for what was to come. So in a strange way we have to be grateful for what at the time seemed like a last ditch failure.

Football is like that. The shadows can be dark, but if you learn to respond to them appropriately you can have your day in the sun – and not just once. So the aim this afternoon is nothing to do with ‘revenge’ for that loss two years ago. Morecambe got into League Two ahead of us, and they deserved it. Good luck to them… but not today. Right now, Exeter need three points very badly, and if they have to come through the equivalent of a “Rob Burch moment” in the 88th minute (sorry Lincoln!), so be it.

All football sides, even the best, need a bit of luck at the right time. The Grecians have had their knocks and their breaks this term. But all have them have been outweighed by the fine football that has been played, by courage and determination. Over the course of the next 180 minutes City will need every ounce of those qualities, together with your support. 

But remember, this isn’t a dream. It’s possible. One more big push and the next rung on Exeter City’s ladder to the top beckons.
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Another Wembley let-down

I'm not talking about bombastic Chelsea sneaking it over cultured Arsenal, either. I'm thinking of the lumpy pitch and the empty corporate seats. As Arsene Wenger observed, the turf was in a gruesome state even before the FA Cup semi-final began. Why semis should be played at the national stadium anyway (other than to grub some more money), I've no idea. But the fact that this overrated, over-hyped, overpriced, over-budget gleaming barn of a structure can't even provide a decent playing surface tells you all you need to know about post-Thatcher England's inability to do anything more competent than line the pockets of private interest groups when it comes to undertaking major projects. I can't imagine the FA World Cup bid will be aided by today's show, either.

When I first went to the 'New Wembley' two years ago, it was the first competitive professional game there - Exeter City versus Morcambe in the Conference play-off final. The Grecians got the opening goal, lost 2-1 and then came back in May 2008 to win promotion to Football League Two by beating Cambridge United. Its conceivable that they might be back in '09, but the hope is for one of the three automatic spots to go into League One this time.

Anyway, first time round the pitch was poor, but that was put down to insufficient time for the grass to 'bed in' and to successive waves of re-planting. Since then there have been repeated problems and multiple relayings. It turns out that the micro-climate created by the stadium's design, its lack of sun and its permanent shadows are the enduring problems. The BBC tried to interview the head ground keeper about the situation this morning, but he had been instructed not to speak to the media. Another fine mess.

As if that wasn't enough, when the second half of today's high-profile match got under way, the corporate area which sits smack in the main camera's eye-line was a sea of red plastic, being two-thirds empty. Twenty minutes later there were still massive gaps. Presumably the fat cats were too busy quaffing champagne, sorting out their next bonuses and celebrity networking to actually watch the football that others would have given their right arm to grab a seat for. The argument is that the big bucks hospitality keeps prices down for the ordinary punters. But the tickets are hardly cheap and the catering is of the usual rip-off variety.

The actual stadium is a splendid edifice, it has to be said. But the atmosphere is anodyne compared to some of the other big grounds. Give me Hampden Park any day.
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The big match... live

Nah, not the FA Cup, the Champions League, the English Premier League, the Old Firm, or some such nonsense... I'm talking Dumbarton versus Cowdenbeath, which kicked off a few minutes ago. Can Sons go top? My nerves are killing me, and I'm 367 miles away! Right now, I'm perched in front of the computer watching the BBC text update, gin to hand for nerve-steadying, kettle poised to boil for further comfort, waiting from any additional news via the mobile from Denise Currie - who very sweetly keeps me in the picture when I'm not around. It's an away fixture. I gather my friends Tim and Margot Rhead are there, too... I gather it's a really good DFC turnout. I'd be there myself if it wasn't for that £155 rail fare. What we all want to see (or hear about) now is a goal celebration like this one, snapped by the ever-watchful lense eye of Donald Fullarton (for all your photographic needs, etc etc.) Meanwhile, 'mon Sons!

Updates: 15.19 and Annan and Elgin have scored already, I see. No goals at Central Park yet. (Incidentally, fellow writer Jack Deighton conveys the many agonies and occasional ecstasies - we hope - of being a Dumbarton fan very well on his blog. Like me, he's not able to be present regularly. As for Campbell Yule, he was in apocalyptic mood last he scribed.)

15:27 Near competitors Shire have grabbed a goal against Montrose. Meanwhile, in League One, with leaders St Johnstone not playing today, Partick have taken the initiative against Morton... which will please Kenny Macaulay, and Sons fans because of the long-standing local rivalry with 'Ton. Cowden's Sheilds booked on 19 mins, I see. (Big swig of, er, tea.... If I smoked, I'd have a cigarette break. Instead I'll just gnaw the carpet, like a normal person.)

15.34 Stenny are a goal up now, too. The Sons game is the only one in the Third Division without a goal at the moment. (If I go to the loo, will something crucial happen, and will it be my fault if it's not good?) Just remembered Exeter away at Lincoln - which is why I am not at any kind of match today, though I shall cheer on Arsenal in the pub at 5.15. Nil-nil for the Grecians. They need all three points for the automatic promotion chase, too.

15.45 (Have just returned from my comfort break. Nothing too exciting or worrying seems to have happened. But the sun is streaming through the window, and I am crouched before a computer screen. Strange, strange existence, Barrow.) No change in Scottish League Division Three. Exeter need a goal, because Brentford, Wycombe and Bury are all ahead. Do your magic, Pete Martin.

15:49 The Bees are two up against Accrington. They are odds on to win the English League Two championship, I reckon. My late grandfather's side, and the first professional team I ever saw, in 1967. So good on 'em. Nearly half-time, and late lunch time for me...

15:54 Cowdenbeath 0 -v- Dumbarton 0 at the break. Denise texts me with the sad news that Stevie Murray, of all people, missed a penalty for the Sons. Agghh! Still, it's a game of two halves... and hopefully second chances. For us. Give 'em a good (positive) talking to, Chappie. Exeter gridlocked, too. ("All to play for," he says... in full fitba cliche mode. Unavoidable, really. More tea and a Marmite sandwich.)

16.06 We're off again. Janet Lynn Kroeker kindly writes to me on Facebook at 3:49pm April 18: "Raising a glass just for you. (oh wait, it's only 7:40AMPST - hmmmmm)." The wi-fi has gone a bit wonky. More tea. This is a sad thing I am doing, but at least it proves I don't work all the time, right? 0-0 everywhere that matters...

16.17 I am contemplating the beam in my own eye. Specifically, I have often mocked Sky Sports News for broadcasting live pictures of blokes looking at pictures you can't see on screens and telling you what's happening. Now I'm doing it myself - minus the pictures. Forgive, me Jeff Stelling. (And while you're about it, please, stop making near-pervy comments to the delightful Rachel Riley at the end of Countdown. It's creepy, and you really should know better.) Nothing happening goal-wise, so I'm digressing.... as you can see.

16.24 When you note that nothing's happening, isn't that a cue for something to happen? Not this afternoon, it seems. Also, nothing happening is less fun when you're not there. But I see that Brentford have added a third goal and Bury a second. Plus Stenny are two up. Time for the Sons and Grecians to show what theyre made of. Provided it's reinforced steel.

16.27 This is a bit like American Football, in the sense that I am immersed in data and have no interesting sporting action to look at. It's always puzzled me, has American football. A game which involves throwing a ball is named after another body part. People in armour assault each other and call it a game. Plus there are more stoppages than would be needed by an incontinent at a dinner party. Not that I can ever really have claimed to get to grips with the whole thing, as you can tell. I can't get past the nicking of our monicker for what gets called soccer. (Must buy that WSC book on real American football - Football in a Soccer World. Great title.)

16.39 'Final Score' on BBC1 adds to the stat blur. "Stoke have scored. It may help them to stay up, but not mathematically." Eh?!? I love the way football scrambles the brains of commentators and pundits alike. I think they mean "until the game's over".

16.45 Not such good news for Kevin Scully, as Leyton Orient are 2-1 down at home. But they should avoid relegation. Tougher overall for my colleague Jonathan Bartley's side, Nottingham Forest. They are one up, but still in trouble at the bottom of the Championship. Bury have three now. Exeter really need a last-minute goal. So do Dumbarton.

16.48 Yey! Troy Archibald-Henville, the stylish Spurs youth loan player, has scored for Exeter City against Lincoln. That's vital for the Grecians, given the other results around them.

16.51 Time running out and no sign of a winner from Dumbarton. 'Mon Sons! Meanwhile, commiserations to Charlton Athletic (and my friend Stephen Lyon). They have been relagated to the third tier of English football for the first time in 28 years, and only two seasons after being in the Premiership. How are the not-so-mighty fallen.

16.54 Lennon (60 mins) and Gordon (89 mins) have been booked for Dumbarton. Three Cowdenbeath players in the book. No goals. Time added on.... frustrating. My Midlands locals Wolves are up to the Premier League, though I think ex-Sons captain Neill Collins is out of the picture at Molinieux these days. Result at Lincoln. Well done again, Grecians!

16.58 Nil-nil for Dumbarton at Cowdenbeath. That Murray miss cost us dearly, evidently. Ordinarily a draw at Central Park wouldn't be bad, but this keeps the Blue Brazil top, and East Stirling have come within three points of Sons, Montrose having failed to pull level there. If my calculations are correct, Dumbarton are almost guaranteed a play-off place, unless they lose by silly amounts in each of the next three games. But it isn't certain, and we really want that Champions place and auto-promotion in this, the 25th anniversary of gaining our one and only season in the SPL. The play-offs are a lottery.

17.02 My namesakes Barrow grabbed a precious point today, 3-3 after being 0-2 down. They are three points clear of the Conference relegation zone. Really hope they can do it. Go, Bluebirds (and up, not down). Stoke have survived in the PL. Well done, them.

17.12 Denise Currie has the right attititude: "They're [Cowdenbeath] more likely to drop points than us though, so no worries." Me? Worry about my beloved team? Perish the thought. Also, Pauline Goodlad says of Exeter, "The title is still on." Correct again - just. OK, I'm off to the pub to watch Arsenal thump Chelsea in the FA Cup semi-final, I hope. After writing about football all afternoon, I actually need to see some. Albeit on a small screen. Have a good rest of the weekend, y'all...
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