Connah's Quay Nomads 3 Bangor City 0
Welsh Premier League
Today we were off to Flint to see Nev Powell and his boys. Flint you understand not Connah's Quay because the pitch in Deeside was being relaid. A short hop from the station to the ground via Tesco for supplies was all that was needed for the evening's entertainment. There was a hopeful mood after Tuesday.
That mood continued for the first ten minutes while Bangor's attack outwitted the Nomads and the torrential rain held off. As both situations changed the match became uncomfortable quite quickly, both mentally and physically. The Nomads went into a lead and then doubled it before half time. The rain came across the area like a curtain but then it stopped, then it came back, then stopped again; a good metaphor for Bangor's form over the last couple of seasons I mused.
Apart from the fact that Bangor were behind there was another reason to feel agreieved; Bangor were down to ten men because man mountain Docker had seen red. Having failed to pick up a thespian display from a Nomad defender the referee then provided the impetus for Timmy Mutton to follow suit and he earned Mr.Docker a first yellow. Mr. Docker did not help matters by throwing the ball away whereupon he received a second yellow immediately. Without the first yellow there wouldn't have been a second yellow and without the dive, no card in the first place. To illustrate with an historical example; without WWI there would have been no WWII. A small incident of note; a Nomads fan had been giving Ricky grief for the whole night and when the big man approached him at half time, he was off.
I saw my old mate Hywyn at half time and we reminisced about Wales. He also told me about his adventures watching Wales with some Bangor fans that he recognised. What a small but reassuring community we Wales fans are.
The second half was not much better, Bangor attacked but couldn't find a way through. Havard had to go off thanks to Tuesday's injury and Connahs Quay added a third. Something told me that Bangor were never going to score and unfortunately I was proved correct.
There was a pretty forlawn feeling in Flint's clubhouse afterwards. We got in to see that England U21s were on the TV. People wonder why attendences are relatively small when clubs are showing football on TV when there is a match on. To make matter worse it was England. I saw Hywyn there and a chat ensued about Wales' prospects for tommorrow. Later on Paul O'Neil's dad had a chat with Dewi and I. As this was happening Paul came in and apologised for the performance. That's right, Bangor's captain apologised for tonight. He also gave me his meal ticket so that we could get some free food, what a gent. Somehow you couldn't imagine Ashley Cole, Ferdinand or Savage doing that.
After our little stay in the clubhouse the homeward train was calling, except for the small fact that we'd missed it. A tour of Flint's pubs and the wildlife contained therein followed, including one with a man being handcuffed outside. We continued until we eventually found a pub that didn't contain people who may have threatened our immeadiate future. Our luck was in as we found one containing some more Bangor faces. We finally did get a train and were off home just before midnight.
All the way to Flint.
