Fanzines were the football rage during the 1990’s. Pre-internet days; and definitely no message boards, the sole way for the ordinary bloke on the terrace to outline opinions or quite possibly to vent rage was through the pages of a fanzine. The primary fanzine at County was “The Tea Party”. Dave Espley, author of the seminal tome “Saturday Night and Thursday Morning” which described the Annus Mirablis, 1996/97, was the primary driving force behind TTP, which was recognised the length and breadth of the land as one of the best of its genre. I contributed pretty regularly to it.
I was an avid reader of fanzines from a whole range of Clubs. Indeed in those days I had to make regular trips to London on business and always called in at Sportspages on Charing Cross Road. They stocked fanzines from far and wide, and I always exited with a pile of the things with which to occupy myself on the train back North. They made, in general, for excellent readind, and it was always illuminating to discover what sort of travails there were at other clubs, and how the management, (on and off the field), was riling fans.
I’d been aware for a couple of years that a compendium of fanzines was published annually reviewing the previous season. I’d bought myself the first two, and thoroughly enjoyed reading them. Dave Espley had penned the Tea Party contribution. Then one cold day at Bury a few days before Christmas 1996 I got into conversation with Dave. He asked me if I could do the contribution to SoTF that season, as he was busy on another project. That of course turned out to be Saturday Night and Thursday Morning. I agreed, (having always enjoyed writing), not knowing of course that I would have the privilege of summarising the greatest season in County’s history. The remit was no more than 2,000 words. Could it be done given the nature of the previous 9 months? Twenty three years on – here it is.
My contribution was penned in June 1997 and is reproduced below as originally written
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THE TEA PARTY
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STOCKPORT COUNTY
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Veritably it was an odyssey: 259 days, 1 hour and 50 minutes; 7,984 miles; 34 grounds; a 67 game programme fit to reduce Ferguson to tears, from Carlisle to Gillingham, Plymouth to Middlesbrough and seemingly every point in between. We’d had the full vagaries of the English climate: sunstroke at Crewe; monsoons when the cameras showed at Edgeley; fog-bound at Mansfield and Stoke; icebound at Wrexham. Not to mention the full gamut of emotions: ecstasy at the Dell; dumbstruck at Burnley; anger at Carlisle, but, most importantly, complete and utter joy at Saltergate. So there it is; the County season summarised, and the honours board showed promotion to the First, semi-finalists in the Coke Cup and Auto Wotsit, and a decent FA Cup outing. All in all, not a bad nine months’ work.
But it wasn’t unexpected. Fifteen months of Dave Jones’ stewardship had suggested to those who could think further than the next five minutes that ’96-97 could well produce the harvest from the seeds sown by himself and Danny Bergara. For those on the superstitious side there was also the 30 year cycle to be completed – Division 3 North in ’36-37, Division 4 in ’66-67, so why not Division 2 in ’96-97? Certainly the pre-season outings, with a trip to Portugal replacing our normal friendlies at Cheadle Town and Northwich Victoria, a four goal stuffing handed out to Birmingham, (prompting Trevor Francis to claim that the grass was too long and thus setting the tone for his woeful season-long contributions on Sky!), and a win at Prenton Park added to pre- August 17th confidence.
Six games in and the mood had changed. Two points, and half as many goals, in nine hours of league football saw Plymouth arrive at EP as the Last Chance Saloon threw open its welcoming doors with the guest of honour one David Jones. Informed gossip suggested that anything less than three points and he would be yet another notch on Chairman Elwood’s Edgeley Park bed-post. But this was insanity to those who had suffered through the years, who realised that the drop in form was but a minor blip on what was clearly an onward and upward trip.
So it’s worthwhile remembering that the journey didn’t start last August but in mid-November 1986, when a return of six points from 15 games was indisputably leading to a permanent one-way ticket out of the League. Colin Murphy, summoned back from the Middle East to replace dancing master Jimmy Melia, did the trick and saved our bacon. Then, and after a couple of years treading water under Asa Hartford, the appointment of Danny Bergara was the catalyst which led to what has been thus far an inexorable rise up the league. One promotion, four play-offs and two Auto finals later, Jones’ appointment came courtesy of Bergara’s inevitable dismissal following an alleged bout of fisticuffs with the Chairman!
In preparing for the new campaign, DJ took a financial, (and fans’ loyalty- testing), gamble by replacing perennial favourite, Wales No. 1, Neil Edwards, with a Wolves reserve. Nine months later, this proved to have been a masterstroke – we still had Wales No. 1, but the name had changed to Paul Jones. His contribution was simply awe inspiring, and effectively he was the final part in a defensive jigsaw which proved insoluble for attacks from the Premiership downwards. Quite simply, pound for pound, Jones was the best buy in the whole league – no argument invited or countenanced!
Plymouth it was then, on September 14th – the pre-season dreams had dissipated and been replaced with a tense EP atmosphere. The Fat Lady, tucked away in the wings awaiting the call from the Directors Box, was sent packing without exercising her vocal chords, courtesy of a Jim Gannon double and Alun Armstrong’s first of the season. The performance owed more to a belief which the team had instilled in themselves, supposedly over a pot of tea, than to the appearance of a Winchester Court bound Grobbelaar in goal. From that point on there was no stopping them. Seventy seven points from the remaining 39 games gave the just reward of a place in the upper reaches next season – a holy grail which had slipped by in three previous play-off attempts.
To most people, and certainly those outside of the SK postcode area, the campaign must have seemed to centre around triumphant cup exploits. Certainly those cannot be denigrated – they offered incredible highs, the like of which had never before been experienced. Undefeated in four outings on Premiership grounds, and victorious in three of them; the ecstasy of Mutch’s late winner at the Dell captured for posterity by the Sky cameras; a win at Blackburn which saw off Harford; a battling perfomance at West Ham which afforded us the delights of Dowie’s ‘Classic Own Goal of All Time’ in the replay; and the bittersweet victory at the Riverside. We dined with the elite and slummed it at Field Mill and Belle Vue; old and bitter foes, Stoke and Burnley, were drilled out on their own midden.
In total. 21 cup games and only three defeats. The one at Birmingham was quite unbelievable, not for the loss itself but for the fact that a fourth round FA Cup tie, a virtually unknown occasion for County, was treated with seeming nonchalance by the fans who appeared more interested in the forthcoming Coke Cup tie.
The cups represented a fantastic effort, appreciated by the fans and unlikely to be bettered in our lifetimes. They were assuredly welcomed by chairman Elwood, who scooped a bonus of well over a million quid into the EP vaults, from whence it has yet to re-appear. More importantly, they introduced County to a national audience more accustomed to linking us with a Music Hall act.
Yet through all of this there was a sneaking feeling that it could prove costly on the league front, and there were those who positively coveted an exit from the AWS. A day out at Wembley would have meant 13 games in the last 4 weeks; with the benefit of hindsight, it could, (and probably would), have been a game too far. The latter stages of the season saw the players performing from memory. Not for us the luxury of the type of 24 man international squad enjoyed by that whinger over at the self-styled ‘Theatre of Dreams’. The team remained virtually unchanged all season, eight of the lads playing in 55 games or more. It showed. The away form, so consistent all year, seemed to go AWOL as within the space of four days the team staggered to a single goal defeat at Gillingham and fell to a sucker punch at Preston, having dominated the game. At that point, with four games left, and just hanging onto a play-off berth, things looked bleak.
A season where success was richly deserved was going to end in tears, and as Tolson rolled in a Mickey Mouse goal for York on April 22nd, the bleakness turned into an Arctic blast. No-one would have dared dream that a few days later we would be in heaven at Saltergate, (surely a contradiction in terms!). In between, victory was salvaged from the Minstermen, and we endured the most nerve-wracking 25 minutes ever as a comfortable two goal lead against Wycombe was almost squandered. All we needed was three points at Chesterfield and the play-offs were someone else’s problem.
It was highly fitting that it should end there, just over the hill. Two sides which had captured the imagination of the country by their cup exploits had it all to play for. No animosity either, as the home fans acknowledged the support they’d been given by County fans on the way back from their semi-final at Old Trafford. It was also highly fitting for those of us who’d seen out first attempt at the play-offs, seven years previously, end in a debacle on the same field. As for the match itself, an Angell goal was a sub-editor’s dream, (‘Heaven Sent’, ‘Winging to Glory’ etc.), as promotion was secured amidst scenes of virtual delirium. Galley slaves a short decade ago, now invited to the Captain’s table.
But it was the Coke semi that summed up the season on and off the field, and the game itself was, sadly, almost incidental. The biggest game in our history – national networked TV, the prospect of a Wembley final, and Europe beyond, Despite this the so called ‘Friendly Club’ managed, as on many other occasions, to make a complete cock-up. Ticket prices were virtually doubled under the guise of a league ruling, which proved to be naught but nonsense when the Riverside tickets went on sale. Christmas came early for the touts, who had a free-for-all, and many regulars were left empty-handed and bitter.
On the field, a below-par EP performance left a mountain to climb, which was all but scaled as the return leg victory on Teesside saw the homesters have the gall to do a lap of honour in celebration of a home defeat by ‘Second Division rubbish’. To add insult to injury, their management were mightily relieved at not being left with a pile of redundant Coca-Cola Cup Finalists shirts, which they had the sheer effrontery to sell before the game!
So, after all that, to be honest, anything else will be a bonus. The Tea Party end of season soiree was unanimous in settling for survival this coming year – although some optimistic souls thought we might actually do a bit better. Seeing Man City in anything other than a friendly will be a new experience, but the fixture we all look forward to is welcoming Boro and Captain Caliper back to EP. As they make the salutary trip, devoid of foreigners, their ‘fans’, the vast proportion of whom probably never even knew where Ayresome Park was, might like to reflect that money doesn’t always buy success. Because, whatever happens, that will never be the case for us – Elwood’s purse strings are far too tightly drawn.
Success has had and will have, to be earned, and what’s more, whilst trips to the Shay and Hartlepool may now be distant memories, the fans will always remember those dark days, and recognise just how far we have come in ten short years.
Martin Frost
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