Pensioned off

Pic looks wonky. But that's a (slatted) visual illusion.

My wife was rather surprised the other evening to discover that she was married to an OAP. Which technically (and chronologically), I'm not.  Let me explain.

Upon arriving at Airdrie United's Excelsior stadium the other evening (for a very sweet 2-1 Dumbarton win - but I digress), a funny thing happened. Being directed to the away end, I found myself exchanging pleasantries with a couple of Sons fans, and following them through the turnstiles. The only part of the notice outside that had registered with me at this stage was the bit telling me I'd have to part with £15. A bit steep for this level of football, even if it is a nice, shiny ground.

Anyhoo, when I handed over my notes I was rather pleasantly surprised to receive four pound coins back. "Must be a midweek discount", I thought. Such things are not unknown in England, where I have spent most of my football-watching life (though I'm definitely making up for lost time now that I'm living in Scotland at last!)  Talking to my friends inside, however, it soon became obvious that, er, I'd just gone through the 'concessions' turnstile and been charged the pensioners' entrance fee. This caused some considerable merriment. I mean, OK, I'm about to turn 53 and the wrinkles are beginning to show... but I'm not quite ready to be put out to grass. Not that this is what we should be doing with our esteemed senior citizens, I hasten to add. But you take the point.

The photograph, by the way, relates to another curious happening that evening. Once inside the ground we headed up the spiral staircase in search of the top of the Jack Dalziel Stand, only to find ourselves (courtesy of the lack of signposting or stewardly direction) wandering down the office corridors and into the executive boxes. I took the picture as a little souvenir. I suppose I could have set up shop with my two tangerines, banana and bottle of water. But turning the lights on might have given the game away. Besides, I'd forgotten the water. So that necessitated the purchase of a cup of hot water with a tea bag in it from the food concession. It cost £1.50. Ouch. I was asked if I wanted anything else. I almost said, "Sorry, I'd have to consult my bank manager about that," but graciousness is the the better part of satire. Especially when you've just been discounted for your increasingly decrepit appearance. 
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As time goes by

Silent scream

Seriously, he’s a really nice guy, but this is a man you don’t want to mess with on match day!

Very loyal Dumbarton supporter Cliffe Jones, whose day job is to be the Edinburgh Glencorse golf club professional, is here engaged in an activity which produces enough steam to heat the stand for around ten minutes. Solo. That’ll come in very handy when the winter really sets in.

Yup, he’s reading the team sheet. And yes, around that mild demeanour, the air you see is indeed blue, even though it looks white in my picture. Don’t worry, Cliffe. The season starts next week. Honest. And thanks for the Peterhead ticket – much appreciated, in spite of the result.
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That's snow business

While chunks of Britain treat a bit of snow as if it was the new ice age and public transport stares into an icy abyss, minnows Inverurie Loco Works have gone down 0-1 down to SPLers Motherwell in the first minute of the game. Which pretty well sews it up, I guess. Not much of a connection there, you'd think. Except that this Homecoming Scottish Cup tie has been postponed four times (if I've counted right) due to bad weather. But now that everyone else is stockpiling baked beans and darning their gloves in anticipation of hibernation, some kind of Summery respite has appeared at Harlaw Park in Aberdeenshire. Oh, the (soft, flaky) irony. [Update: 'Well win 3-0... and, yes, it was snowing...]
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City of culcha

Ah, baffling football final ceremonies. Doncha love 'em? The organisers in Vienna tonight (no, don't get carried away, I'm only watching on TV, too) came up with a corker. Dodgy drama, dodgy art, dodgy acting and Enrique "son of Julio" Iglesias all rolled into one bulging globule of on-pitch entertainment. Awesome! When I say "dodgy", I don't mean monumental Eurovision-scale awful (it's not that hideously compelling)... just something so whimsically conceived-by-committee that it would need a lengthy commentary to make sense of it... involving, as it does, waddling puppets, floating balloons and marionette referees. "Football is focus of closing ceremony" it says here, in breathless tones. Classic. Motty, doing his last major tournament as a commentator, manfully decided to ignore the proceedings and reminisce, bless 'im. Plus he couldn't pronounce "Enrique" properly. A bit of little England was there after all. Now for the football... and the Germans are surprisingly lively at the moment.
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Withdrawal symptoms...

These mainly consist of looking obsessively at the TV guide to see when the next Euro 2008 match is, and figuring (for the sixth time in two hours) that it isn't until tomorrow night, then Thursday, then Sunday... then a big, fat nuffink for, I dunno, two weeks or more. More, given that I'll be in the USA at the end of July. How on earth will I cope? I'll just have to get a life, I guess. Actually, I have one of those. I just don't like to admit it when I'm in the company of fellow footie addicts. (On the bright side, I'm finding that every time I blink, Jim Chapman signs a new player for Dumbarton... Mainly from Partick, it seems. Thanks, Kenny. I hope.)
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Where are 'ya?

Though I think it's already been in wide circulation, I rather enjoyed this tongue-in-cheek take on England's absence from Euro 2008:

Ah, those verbal foibles

We all love a bit of Colemanballs, let's face it. So I raise you a toast to Spanish super-coach Juande Ramos, who joined Spurs from Sevilla in October 2007. Upon winning the Carling Cup against Chelsea recently, he declared: "It's been a unique experience and one I hope to repeat." As we all do with unique things, Juande, as we all do...

Meanwhile, commentator Tom Ferrie is perhaps most famous for: ""Dumbarton player Steve McCahill has limped off with a badly cut forehead." A classic Gaffta winner, that.

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Give me a break...

It was inevitable, I guess. Today Exeter City's match day magazine, The Grecian, published a piece by me saying that we shouldn't give refs such a hard time. Predictably, therefore, the official at today's Grays game (City scraped a 1-0 win) gave, how shall I say, a less than stellar performance. Especially when he failed to act on what looked like a rather blatant last-man offence right near the end. Hey ho. I'll put up the article, together with the one that appeared in Sons View (Dumbarton disappointingly drew 0-0 against a poor Forfar side) on Monday 8 October 2007.

Ransacking the positives

Not a good day for the teams favoured by this blog. Dumbarton lost 2-0 away to Stranraer. Still, at least they did twice as well as poor Exeter City away to Kidderminster. Ouch. This, I believe, is what beleaguered England manager Malcolm McLaren (shome mishtake there, shurely? Ed.) calls "taking the positives". Talking of which, I was amused to discover This Is Not 1966 the other day. Indeed it isn't.