Aston Villa vs. Chelsea : 27 April 2024.
Ahead of the 8pm game at Villa Park to the north of Birmingham city centre on Saturday 27 April, the pre-match drinking was spent in two pubs in Frome, Somerset.
Let me explain.
After Tuesday’s game at Tavistock. when the home side inflicted a 3-2 defeat to Southern League South league leaders Wimborne Town, all eyes were on Frome Town’s final game of the regular season against Bristol Manor Farm. A win for Frome and anything but a win for Wimborne at nearby Melksham Town would result in my local team returning to the Southern League Premier South for the first time since relegation in 2019.
So, despite Chelsea playing in Birmingham later that day, plans were set in motion to attend the Frome game too. A football double-header? It was simply an offer that I could not refuse.
I had never seen my two teams play on the same day and, if it was to happen, I always presumed that both matches would take place in London. In the days when Frome were playing in the division above, from 2011/12 to 2018/19, there would often be away games in the Home Counties or London itself. I myself saw a game at East Molesey between the Met Police and Frome Town in the autumn of 2018.
But here would be two games one hundred and sixteen miles apart. The distance did not worry me. In fact, I was looking forward to the challenge.
On this heavy day of football, I collected PD in Frome at 11am, then looped up to Holt near Melksham to pick up Parky at 11.30am. Just after midday, we were sat in “The George Hotel” in Frome’s historic Market Place.
On Facebook, I set things up.
“So, it all comes down to this.
This is my thirty-third Frome Town game this season. If it turns out to be my last, we will have made it.
Buzzing. Loads of friends going today. Perfect.
Stop dreaming of the quiet life.
UTFD.”
My good friend Kev – of sound Chelsea heritage, nurtured and honed in Basingstoke and London, and now recently Bristol – was staying in the hotel with his partner Sally and soon joined us. Kev, however, was wearing the colours of the visitors from Shirehampton; the oddly-named Bristol Manor Farm, supported by the Farmy Army, and ironically the team that defeated Frome Town 3-1 in a league play-off at Badgers Hill in 2022.
Kev and I, taking inspiration from the Flamengo vs. Fluminense derby in Rio, have named the games between our two teams as the “Far/Fro Superclassico” over the past few seasons and we have a shared love of the non-league scene. We only met up at a minor cup competition when the two teams met at Frome in 2017 despite being friends on Facebook for years, and having mutual friends all over the Chelsea universe. We settled down to some pre-match banter. Kev was meeting PD and Parky for the first-ever time, but he soon said that he felt that he has known them for years such is the power of social media. At 1pm, I drove us out of the town centre and up the hill towards the next pub, “The Vine Tree”, which is only one hundred yards from the Badgers Hill ground.
Halfway up the hill, Parky made a typically wry comment to a point that I was making and the whole car exploded with laughter. It was almost jolted into oncoming traffic.
“Well, there you go, Kev. That’s the Chuckle Bus for you.”
Once inside “The Vine Tree”, we were joined by my mate Francis, looking rather nervous ahead of the afternoon’s game, and we enjoyed a couple of drinks until it was time to walk up the hill to the stadium.
At about 2.30pm, we were inside, and it already felt like my prediction of a gate of just over 1,000 would be about right. I soon lost PD and Parky and found it hard to meet up with other friends such was the number of fellow supporters in all areas of the stadium. By the main entrance gate, I proffered my hand to the chairman but instead of grabbing hold of it and shaking it, he preferred to give me a big hug. That felt special.
Eventually I met up with the usual match day crew – Francis and I were joined by Steve and Louise, Tom, Rob, Darren, plus Rick from Portsmouth – and we took position on the lower slope of “The Club End” as the game began. An early free-kick to Frome, who were uncharacteristically attacking the home end in this first-half, allowed me to dash over and snap away with my SLR. There are no unyielding bag searches at this level of the game and thankfully no confiscation of cameras. Experienced midfielder George Rigg sent a ball in from out wide and the flight of the ball seemed to bamboozle everyone, not least Seth Locke, the former Frome ‘keeper, now between the sticks for Manor Farm. The ball dolloped in. Pandemonium in East Somerset.
Just after, we heard that Melksham were 1-0 up against Wimborne. At this exact moment, the Dodge were going up.
Alas, this was the highpoint of the game. The away team, dressed in all blue – yes, I was confused a few times – scored through Daniel Dodimead on fifteen minutes after a free-kick was fumbled. The visitors dominated the rest of the first-half, despite few chances for both teams. In Melksham, meanwhile, Wimborne had equalised.
This was a very tense affair.
In the second-half, the gang of us repositioned ourselves under “The Cowshed” at the other end of the stadium, but sadly saw Owen Brain drilled a rising free-kick in at the far post soon into the second period. Frome made some changes and tried to re-assert themselves but the team from Bristol were a tough opponent. We looked tired and leggy. On seventy-one minutes, more calamity. Our ‘keeper Kyle Phillips raced out to clear but lost his footing, leaving Dodimead with an easy lob into an open goal.
At this stage, Wimborne were 2-1 up, and I suddenly knew that I needed to be on my way to Birmingham.
I made my way through a noisy knot of away fans in a fine gate of 1,028 and signalled to PD and Parky, still watching in the “Club End” and with another Chelsea fan Dan – who would be coming to Villa with us – that it was time to make a move.
The guilt of me leaving early at two consecutive games – on 92 minutes at Arsenal, on 75 minutes at Frome Town – was not pleasant, but needs must. The priority now was to get to Villa Park for the 8pm kick-off. At 4.40pm, I pulled out of “The Vine Tree” car park knowing full well that I would be back in Frome for the league play-offs semi-final on Wednesday evening.
I made really good time en route to Birmingham. I even had time to stop off at Strensham, what a luxury. Dan updated us on the results.
“You won’t believe this. Frome ended 3-3.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nope. 3-3.”
The home team had scored two very late goals via James Ollis on eighty-seven minutes and substitute Reece Rusher on ninety-minutes to tie things up, and to maintain an unbeaten home record in the league for the first time since 1911. A fine achievement.
On Wednesday 1 May, it will line up like this :
Frome Town vs. Mousehole
Cribbs vs. Bristol Manor Farm
The winners will meet each other in the play-off final on Bank Holiday Monday, 6 May. If Frome make it, we will be at home. Within ten days, there could be three gates of over 1,000 at Badgers Hill. Non-league football is on the rise, gates are up at all levels, and who can stop it now?
There were no delays as I headed further up the M5 and then turned past The Hawthorns into the badlands of Birmingham. I dropped the lads off at the roundabout near Witton Station and doubled-back on myself to park up at my allotted “JustPark” spot.
It was 7.15pm.
I had made it.
Just like in 1986/87, I was attending my second of two games at Villa Park in the same season; on Wednesday 7 February we mullered Villa 3-1 in the FA Cup in our most complete performance of the campaign thus far. It didn’t seem five minutes ago since I made the short walk towards the Doug Ellis Stand. The bag-check was minimal.
“What’s that, a camera? OK.”
I had moved our tickets around so that PD could stand next to Parky in the front few rows of the Upper Tier. Meanwhile, I was further back, and alongside a former work colleague who was attending his very first Chelsea game. I have known Terry for the best part of twenty years and in the last couple of years he has very kindly been following my exploits on this website. Last season, as I mentioned the build-up to a game at Villa Park, he spoke to me about the years when he lived very close to the stadium at Perry Bar. If a spare ticket became available for this season’s game at Villa, I promised that he could come along. Recently retired, Terry lives to the south of Birmingham, and I had not seen him for a good six months. It was a joy to see him in the Chelsea section.
Terry had grown up in Erdington in a family of Villa fans, but had never followed them. This was his first-ever game at Villa Park. I explained to Terry how I got to know Ron Harris over the years, and Terry had a nice story for me too. Charlie Aitken, who played more games for Aston Villa – 660 – than anyone else, was Terry’s first landlord when he got married.
795 and 660, what a couple of stalwarts.
As the countdown to the kick-off took place, I was intrigued to see how a Chelsea “newbie” would react to a night of football, but with a Chelsea-esque feel.
After another flurry of flames, then fireworks, then “Crazy Train” by Ozzy – Osbourne, not Osgood – the teams appeared opposite.
Despite the late kick-off, this was a full house for sure, and the Chelsea section on two levels were pretty buoyant. My mate Rob was attending game number two of the day too; earlier he had seen his team Walton & Hersham beat Poole Town 3-0.
Mauricio Pochettino had selected the following.
Petrovic
Chalobah – Silva – Badiashile – Cucarella
Gallagher – Caicedo
Madueke – Palmer – Mudryk
Jackson
Game number two began.
We attacked the Holte End in the first-half, or at least tried to. There was a brief foray into the Villa penalty box but after just four minutes, we were exposed. A Villa attack, virtually their first, broke down our left. Marc Cucarella scurried away to keep the danger at bay, but the ball was neatly transferred to the other side. Lucas Digne was free and in acres of space. Our marking was woeful. He found John McGinn, just inside and in a good position for a shot. His effort was miss-hit but took a big enough deflection of Cucarella and fizzed past a stranded Djordje Petrovic.
Just like at Arsenal on Tuesday evening, a goal from the right-hand side of our defence had left us chasing the game. And on this day of two games, earlier in Somerset, Frome had been 1-0 up after four minutes but here in Birmingham, Chelsea were 1-0 down after four minutes.
The Villa fans down to our right were cheering a second soon after, but we could see from our vantage place that Digne had only hit the side netting. Petrovic saved well from Ollie Watkins. We were struggling to find a foothold.
We were all cheering when Conor Gallagher sent a ball over for Nicolas Jackson to score – “he scored in the Cup game too, didn’t he?” – but our elation was stopped by the intervention of VAR. From my position up the other end of the stadium, it did seem like an offside.
We ploughed on, but our approach play was so laboured. Frustrations grew with each passing minute. Noni Madueke, who had begun brightly, drifted out of the game but Mykhailo Mudryk never ever got going. He received the ball in wide areas often enough, but exhibited no guile nor nous in making any telling contribution. Two identical efforts after cutting in drifted so high and wide of the goal frame as to be hardly worthy of the term.
We managed to conjure up a couple of chances, but a Cole Palmer chance went wide while Moises Caicedo hit straight at Emiliano Martinez.
I lost count of the number of times that Badiashile and Silva received the ball from virtually all of our players. It was as if the coaching team at Cobham had inverted the entire direction of play.
“Don’t worry about hitting Nicolas and Cole as early as you can lads, keep looking for Benoit and Thiago, that’s the spirit.”
This was hard to watch.
Then, a deep cross from the boot of Cucarella at the by-line was headed down by an unmarked Jackson but his effort bounced back off the base of the post.
I wasn’t impressed with the home team though; they seemed to be playing within themselves, seemingly content with a narrow lead.
Sadly, just before the half-time whistle, Villa enjoyed a very rare break. The ball was played simply to Morgan Rogers – “there’s always a spare man that side” – who adeptly struck low into the corner of our net.
Neither team had played well, yet Chelsea went into the break 0-2 down.
This was always going to be a tough game. And here we were, right in the middle of it and right up against it.
To my right, Cliff hoped that Poch’s half-time pep-talk, no pun intended, would inspire the troops, but this was said with his tongue well and truly in his cheek. I knew what he meant exactly.
The second-half began with Chelsea attacking our end.
All of a sudden, out of nowhere, we improved immensely. Madueke was full of running and trickery down below us, though was too reliant on his left foot to be truly sensational. A few chances came and went.
Cucarella.
Madueke.
Silva.
On sixty-two minutes, excellent Chelsea pressure in the Villa box from Palmer and Gallagher allowed the ball to run for Madueke. He wasted no time, hitting the ball as it came across his body with his left peg. The ball sped past the substitute Villa ‘keeper Robin Olsen and into the goal. We were back in it. The scorer ran off into the middle distance but seemed to be ranting at the Chelsea crowd at the same time. Answers on a postcard.
“CAM ON CHOWLSEA. CAM ON CHOWLSEA. CAM ON CHOWLSEA. CAM ON CHOWLSEA.”
Chelsea continued to shine, and there was special praise for both Caicedo and Badiashile who grew with each passing moment. At last we saw crunching tackles from Caicedo. The Chelsea support were soon to applaud. We were playing with more bite, more hunger, and we found spaces in tight areas. Jackson never stopped running, a real handful for his markers. This really was much better.
There was a fine low save from Petrovic after a rare Villa break in front of the Holte End.
A few more chances. Everyone, of course, was stood, as we had been for the entire match. We urged the players on.
With eighty-one minutes played, Gallagher found a little space for himself and curled a magnificent shot towards goal with his left foot. The flight of the ball was perfection. The net rippled. We went doo-lally. We were level.
Fackinell.
On eighty-nine minutes, and with not a soul having left, the manager made two very late changes.
Axel Disasi for Silva.
Cesare Casadei for Mudryk.
It had been another cool and calm performance from Silva. It had been the antithesis of cool and calm from Mudryk.
Palmer swept into the box but produced a fine save from Olsen.
A corner down below us. Palmer swung it in. A Villa header and the ball bounced high. Badiashile won a challenge and hooked the ball back in. Disasi the substitute seemed to arrive late but flung himself at the ball.
Snap – GOAL – snap, snap, snap.
To my left, Terry was punching the air like a loon, and I was too. What a comeback, what a game, and I was sure that one or two snaps of the screaming Disasi would make me happy.
Wild celebrations.
But then, the bloke behind me mentioned VAR and a push.
Of course. I remembered it now. The push by Badiashile. Yes. It looked unlawful. No shoulder charge, that.
The inevitable wait, but VAR spoke.
No goal.
Ugh.
So, there was modern football encapsulated within a few seconds.
Joy, pain, euphoria, annoyance, ecstasy, misery.
“You don’t get VAR shite at Frome Town.”
I said my farewells to Terry and the lads around me. I soon met up with PD, Parky and Dan outside. We hobbled back to the car and I began the drive home. We had enjoyed the second-half, not so much the first. We stopped to refuel at Hilton park, and I eventually made it home at about 2am.
It had been another long day, but it threw up a lot of fine memories.
Kev had left me a message that I did not spot until very late on :
“From Parky’s quip in the car onwards, it has been a day of comebacks.”
I smiled.
Next up, we play the old enemy at Stamford Bridge on Thursday.
Chelsea vs. Tottenham.
Makes you shiver with excitement, doesn’t it?
See you there.
Frome Town vs. Bristol Manor Farm
Aston Villa vs. Chelsea