"Every game that you ever play is an important game. There's no such thing as an unimportant game." - Jack Charlton, speaking robustly and challengingly (as ever) in a TV interview, just ahead of his Ireland side's success at the memorable Italia '90 World Cup. I, myself, had a unique and strangely fascinating time watching it (and Gazza's Tears, etc.) in various sports- and bush-bars around Rwanda. The only man in the former Belgian colony wearing an England shirt, drinking Guinness F.E.S., and beating the locals at table football. A long story, for another time, perhaps?
Yes, the Fabulous Football Pharaoh is back, rambling and meandering the highways and byways of English football on your behalf. And yet, in truth, he never really went away. He was merely hiding in plain sight. Hoarding up his various amazing football
stories for you. Until he could identify one with broad(er) appeal. You lucky things! And yes it's true, I AM currently working my way through the 14-novel series of redolent pre- and post-war Berlin Noir detective stories, featuring Bernie Gunther. I'm currently finishing off #9 in the series.
Let's start with another, more literary, quotation. One which may (or, perhaps, may not) be familiar:'... My name is Ozymandias,
King of Kings,
Look on my
Works, ye Mighty, and despair!'*
Or at
least that's my middle name, anyway. Real or imagined. And it’s true that I
mostly only #Metaphorically Walk Like an Egyptian. Are my works mighty? I guess that's for you to decide. I am designated “The
Football Pharaoh”, mainly because I trawl the nether regions of The Beautiful
Game on your behalf. Saving you the pain, hassle and (for many) the inevitably
disappointed hopes, of life at various levels of English Football's Pyramid
structure.
Pyramid – Pharaoh – geddit?
Don't expect too much in the way of Match Reports from The Divine One (your "nfr ntr", as the locals say). Since you can normally find such things fairly easily for yourself, via various other sources, already. The Pharaoh prefers to focus typically, instead, on the way we "consume" and enjoy our football, at its various levels. To paraphrase the old Campari advertising tag-line: With soda, with lemonade, with tonic, with friends, with a dodgy burger and some cold chips, after a prolonged queue at the snack bar? — but always with pleasure. There is one more detailed exception to that normal model here. See if you can spot it.
Our "Pyramid" is extremely wide at its “grass-roots” base; including Youth and, even, sometimes Old Men's Walking Football sections. The latter of which is played by those still keen to hang on to their blue-remembered dreams of gracing the Wembley turf (been there, done that!) as well as some semblance of their peak, personal, physical and mental fitness.
Over-60s Walking Football, in all its glory - and at its best?
The Pyramid is contrastingly narrow at its very pointy peak. That peak being, surely, London’s
oldest professional side (that's Fulham Football Club, for those wilfully ignorant on
such matters – aka The Cottagers, The Super Whites, or Bloody Fulham, depending on
who’s telling the story). Formed in 1873, and rarely consider a glamourous or fashionable choice since, I've been a fan since September 1976. I blame my Big Brother, Kevin. Plus George Best, Bobby Moore, Rodney Marsh and others. Another long story!
In addition to Fulham FC, Enfield Town Football Club sit somewhere lower down - but still well above the base of - our glorious, glittering pyramid. They are one of London's newer and more recently successful sides. I quote here, briefly, from the club's official website, for your delight and education.
Formed as recently as June 2001, 'Enfield Town FC were the first fully fan-owned, fan-run senior football club in the country. They broke away from the original Enfield FC, following the sale of their Southbury Road home ground and after their chairman, Tony Lazarou, had withdrawn from an earlier agreement to transfer ownership of the club – and escrow funds from the ground sale – to the Enfield Supporters’ Trust...'
I've been actively following The Towners since their move "home" to Enfield proper, in Nov. 2011. And their first ever match at their new ground, c. 1 mile from my house: a friendly against a Tottenham Hotspur XI. Spurs being another local club who've been poised tantalisingly close to the summit of said pyramid. Though rarely to be found at its very peak.
One of the Pharaoh's featured venues: Fulham FC's riverside Craven Cottage stadium, on the Thames. Seen here by millions of TV viewers, on Boat Race Day 2025.
Despite the recent narcissistic, ignorant iconoclasm and the arrogant dismantling of most of the world's stable and successful politico-economic structures, with which we had become so accustomed and comfortable, the English football pyramid appears to be one structure that has yet to attract the attention of the Bright Orange you-know-who. Peace in Ukraine by lunchtime on Day 1? I don't mind if I do.
As football ("soccer") fans, we are used to living in Hope, of course. Although it will likely only be a matter of time before He turns his greedy, simplistic, acquisitive eye towards us. Perhaps next year's planned FIFA World Cup finals (to be shared with Mexico and China - oh, the irony!) will be the trigger for that.
There are few Ground Rules in play (puns intended) with The Pharaoh. Although, unlike some others, I'm nothing if not predictable in my habits and behaviours. I recommend you: just grab a large vessel full of your favourite beverage; read on at your leisure; enjoy; comment, as applicable. Then feel free to be triggered / influenced to go
and support your own favourite team(s) - by spending money at their turnstiles and
elsewhere. Unless they are a known international money- or reputation-laundering
operation, or a billionaire’s plaything (or perhaps both?) then you already know they need your
financial support. On a sliding scale of desperation.
I start here with a list of the games I will NOT be describing in detail (phew!). These
include various Fulham Premier League fixtures I've attended, so far this season. Since I last shared my thoughts about the club, Fulham have opened their new Riverside Stand. Meaning that the stadium now boasts both the oldest AND the newest stands in top flight English football. With a slightly increased maximum capacity.
Now, I'm not a Craven Cottage season ticket holder. So, I largely rely on the largesse (plus the holidays, illnesses, and other absences) of those friends and family members who do hold season tickets, for my relatively rare trips down to the river bank. E.g. this season against West Ham (when we
gave up a sloppy added-time equaliser to throw away 2 points); against Ipswich, when we gave up a couple of sloppy goals and again drew (this time with a one-dimensional and "physical" side, who were already pretty much doomed to relegation, unless Wolves continued to self-destruct even more than
The Tractor Boys); and against Nottingham Forest (everybody’s favourite surprise high-flyers,
apparently) over whom we have successfully and quietly “done the double”, this season.Fulham (in white) press for the winner against another of this season's "surprise" success stories: once-mighty (like Ozymandias?) Nottingham Forest. It would come...
In general, "we" have performed well against those considered to be the better sides. The ones who have an attacking style of play - often with "a high press". While, contrastingly, doing less well against some of the less fancied teams. Many of whom prefer the dull, "low block" and counter-attack approach. Speaking of whom...
Those Premier League games were topped
off, however, with Cup disappointment at Craven Cottage, when 12-man Crystal Palace came a-calling, at the Quarter-Final stage. A frustrating 0-3 scoreline doesn't even begin to summarise the full story of the afternoon's action. When the visitors should have had a man sent off after just 22 minutes, for his second yellow card offence (with the score still 0-0). An incident which went miraculously unseen by 1 x referee, 2 x referee's assistants and (presumably) a whole party of drunks in the VAR booth. There was not even a free-kick awarded for a petulant and ill-advised kick-out at Fulham's centre forward. The TV commentators concurred en masse that Wharton had been "A Lucky Lad!" It's a technical term; expressed in code words well-understood by us fans. The opposite term could equally have been applied to Fulham's lads.
A rousing pre-match party atmosphere had prevailed, on partial-eclipse day. It continued throughout Fulham's dominant early performance. Up until it was (almost inevitably) eclipsed by even more poor refereeing. After having gone blind on 22 minutes, the offending official then missed yet another obvious Palace foul on our centre forward, after 34 minutes. Only for the visitors to then immediately break upfield and, almost inevitably, open the scoring, entirely against the run of play. Thanks, Ref!
It was a pattern of play (and refereeing) that would continue throughout the match. Denying Fulham fans their rightful trip to Wembley, for the Semi-Final of the world's oldest club competition. As the BBC Sport website observed: '... The Eagles could barely get out of their own half, before Eberechi Eze gave the visitors the lead against the run of play.' By fair means, or foul, eh?
Another mood-board image, captured during that "rousing pre-match party atmosphere". Football buddy and former Guinness colleague, Martin (left) with the (increasingly "well-refreshed") Pharaoh, sporting brand and club colours. Both enjoying "Early Bird" £2 pints in the warm, post-eclipse sunshine.
Anyways, and elsewhere, Enfield Town could currently only dream of such peak disappointments. A proper appreciation of THEIR predicament probably requires some additional background. Especially for those who've not being paying close attention to matters in Tiers 6 and & 7, over the past couple of years. Which will probably include nearly ALL of you. In recent seasons, Towns' average attendances have been steadily growing. And there are good reasons for that.
Enfield Town were promoted up and out of the pyramid's Tier 7, via last May's end-of-season play-offs. Including a highly successful, "Fairy Tale" Final, played away against Danny Dyer's over-rated Chatham Town side: 0-3 - great memories! As a fan-owned club, with limited resources and a burning need to stay within those resources, on gaining promotion, The Towners faced a couple of major concerns / obstacles after clambering up a level, into the Vanarama National League South.
Firstly, costly ground improvements were required by their change in league status and associated new protocols applicable. Secondly, the change of geographical footprint between leagues meant that some of Enfield's squad of part-time players felt unable to live with the change of league status and chose to leave the club.
Whereas, previously, the longest distance to fixtures had been to the genteel South Coast, at Margate, Bognor or Chichester, the new season could easily have seen a fixture list that included playing games on the proverbial Wet Wednesday nights in the West - for example at the much more distant Torquay, Truro, or Weston-Super-Mare. Potentially making it officially "difficult" for the players to get home for an early start the next morning, in their day-jobs. [Incidentally, what's so super about Weston, anyway?]
For more insights into the geographical demands sometimes made on players "at this level", see The Guardian's related recent article. The print copy appeared under the headline 'Roving Truro finally nearing home glories'. At exactly this point last season, Truro City, current table-toppers in Enfield's league, were 'in the middle of a ludicrous grind of 10 National League South games in 20 days... If they can... secure promotion [this time] they could face... an 868-mile round trip to Carlisle... “It would be a challenge because, at the moment, we travel at tea-time after everyone finishes at work and get to most hotels at 11pm at night” - See link to article, here.
Tackling the logistics for travel to Cumbria could well pose a welcome new problem for Enfield Town to have to face into, soon. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, here. It's become clear that the increasing scale of geography and financial inequalities between clubs, as a successful "smaller" side moves up the pyramid, could easily pose significant stress and further problems. If only Enfield can first secure survival in this Tier 6, at their first attempt.
The club has been very happy to admit that it's currently ahead of its own projected , sensible growth curve. We will learn very soon whether premature success has turned out to be merely another welcome challenge - or a poisoned chalice.
Faced with such a changed landscape, Town struggled to get their season off to a strong enough start. They had languished, as a result, in and around the bottom places in the league table for most of the year. Or, rather, that had been true until the superbly timed resurgent performances of recent weeks and months. These were, in turn, supported by the ongoing drip-feed process of carefully and wisely strengthening the playing squad with new acquisitions, to begin to match our newly-enhanced, superior league status.
Those positive factors have finally put the club's survival (or relegation) destiny firmly back in their own hands. Previously, many points have been dropped by conceding late goals. Potentially calling into question the squad's mental toughness and resilience, when under pressure.
Going into last weekend's all-important fixture against mid-table Chelmsford City, Enfield were sitting high in the six-game form table: unbeaten since 1st March, when they'd faced promotion-chasing Dorking. The other relegation-threatened sides around them were proving incapable of coping with Enfield's form "heat". But recent momentum needed to be maintained. In fact, renewed - after a recent run of THREE consecutive draws. Would these turn out to have been three points gained? Or 6 points lost?
With the aim of helping to answer such questions, I'd arranged to meet up with my friends, the (ahem!) "mature" members of the Yoko-Meshi group (the Y-M). The grass-roots-football-supporting fan elite of Essex. As I understand it, the group's "Yoko-Meshi" name derives from the concept of "Eating Rice Grains Sideways". It's a #Metaphor, of course. For an alternative way of enjoying The Beautiful Game than the increasingly predictable dull grind of the Premier League sausage machine (another #Metaphor!). The Y-Ms do this, mostly, via attending fixtures in The Pyramid's lower tiers as neutrals, in good like-minded, football-loving company - enjoying its blood, thunder, guts, warts and all. Plus its hostelries and snack bars.
This image features just THREE of the eight Yoko-Meshi who attended Chelmsford's Melbourne Stadium. Briefly taking a break from enjoying the match play at c. 4.15pm [which, rudely, continued behind them] are former college buddies: Jez (left), The Pharaoh (centre, in publicity-shunning sunglasses) and Bill (with obligatory beer and retro West Ham shirt).
On the Friday night before match day, I had been "on it", out on the lash in Central London with some of my old Energizer work colleagues. Despite which, ironically, my batteries were feeling far from being recharged, on Saturday morning. As a result, I chose NOT to head for The Tap Room to meet up with The Boys. And, anyway, I was not in need of any new taps.
Instead, I aimed to get to the ground and park up for c. 2.30pm. Which is earlier than I would normally arrive, but I spotted that there were concerning bits of road traffic chaos showing, at various points on my route, on the AA Roadwatch website.
And, sure enough, that road chaos meant I ended up arriving c. 15 minutes after the scheduled kick-off time. Luckily, said kick-off had apparently been delayed by c. 8 of those minutes, as the home players gave each other piggy-backs in an effort to get up high enough to fix a non-compliant goal net. Which rarely ever happens at Craven Cottage. I hadn't missed very much. And I was pleased, after all, that I hadn't just turned around half-way and gone home.
The Pharaoh's typical pre-match M.O. is to look up in advance some fascinating(?) details of the opposing club's history and current squad members, to share. Golden Nuggets harvested this time, about Chelmsford City, included:
1) Just like their visitors, Enfield, their home ground is also in an athletics stadium.
2) The weather forecast was predicting a beautiful day for The Beautiful Game.
3) CCFC were a club way ahead of their time. By c. 75 years, in fact.... 'In 1938, it was decided to form a professional club to join the Southern League... it was decided to close down the existing club and to reform as "Chelmsford City", despite the fact that Chelmsford itself would not be granted city status until 2012.'
4) Doing some due diligence e-scouting, I noted that ETFC would need to be on their mettle to thwart City's main goal threat (and midfield dynamo) Bermudan international, Kane Crichlow.
5) AND City's St. Vincent and the Grenadines international Jazzi Barnum-Bobb. Which also probably qualifies as the most exotic name on either side's squad sheet. His heritage suddenly sounded a little less exotic when I learned that Jazzi had, in fact, been born in Enfield, of all places. A veritable turn-coat, then!
Incidentally, St. Vincent was one of the islands I visited during my spell in "The Best Job in the World", as voted for by BBC Radio 5 Live listeners. Ask me more about that, over a beer maybe...
6) By the time I'd identified that another City midfielder, Nico Valentine, was on loan from Ipswich Town, I was starting to fear the worst. That hardly seemed fair!
7) By contrast, and despite starting the day with his side just 3 points above the drop zone, Enfield's Manager, Gavin MacPherson, had recently been awarded the title of March's NATIONAL LEAGUE SOUTH MANAGER OF THE MONTH. And most of us know what normally happens next, after that sort of malarkey...
Enfield Town's match day squad.
Some brief thoughts on the match itself shared here, will be corroborated(?) by a brief match report from the Non-League Paper and a brief highlights reel, considerately provided by the host side. The hilariously one-sided commentary is a mere bonus. And I'm pretty sure we would all do it in exactly the same way. Just click on the blue text link, above, to watch it (c. 6 minutes long).
Action got under way, in front of an official crowd of 929 (adult entry fee, £17) on a rather dry and uneven surface. With a blustery Northerly wind blowing down the length of the pitch. A reminder to us all of one significant difference between the top of the pyramid and elsewhere.
After the unplanned pre-match goal net shenanigans, and a first few minutes of early home side dominance (I missed all that, so have to rely on the views and accuracy of others about it) Enfield took control fairly quickly, with the wind behind them. Ironically, it was after having absorbed a long spell of pressure that the home side, of course, remembered where the Enfield goal was and duly advanced up the pitch towards it, to probe their opponents defence, just before the half-hour mark.
After some good interchanges down their left, City were a touch lucky to find themselves able to punish a rare rush of blood to the head of Town 'keeper, Joe Wright. His initial shot-stop with his legs occurred well outside his area. This rebounded unkindly and fell at the feet of a City player. Some simple, crisp interplay and footwork saw the stranded Wright left completely out of the equation. A relatively simple pass-shot, was finally slotted beyond two defenders who'd attempted to take up covering positions on the goal-line. It seemed very "Crystal Palace" of the hosts (see above). And hardly showed good manners or suitable hospitality, towards their endangered guests.
My obscured, early, first-half view, from behind the home goal. I soon moved to join the other Y-Ms, near the half-way line; where the coaches' dug-outs also obscured the view, equally badly - LOL!
Normal service was soon resumed, however, after that opener, with Enfield again largely laying siege to the City goal. Where, we were reliably informed by our inside mole, the incumbent, Collins, might be found to be "distinctly dodgy", if tested - or words to that effect. Enfield's efforts, alas, came to nought, though. Town eventually went in for the half-time break a goal down and concerned for their league survival.
Y-M members cast me commiserating glances, pats on the shoulder and offers of consolation half-time beers. But I was able to state confidently that I fully expected a second-half Town comeback. They didn't seem convinced, but we accordingly strolled down towards the Chelmsford goal to watch the remainder of the match, hoping to witness close-up those anticipated (and very necessary) Enfield goals.
Before long, the neutrals amongst the Y-M had mostly turned distinctly pro-Enfield. Perhaps the beers had helped? Plus the fact that the visiting fans had largely out-sung their hosts, throughout. There was only one team looking likely to score. It was, surely, only a matter of time and When, rather than If. I kept my fingers crossed. And we continued chatting away about our various domestic problems, philosophies of life, and the world going to hell in Trump's bright orange hand basket. 
Exciting second-half goalmouth action (Enfield are in yellow, attacking). THAT's how close the fans are to the pitch and the players, "at this level". Cosy, ain't it?
A mere c. 5 minutes after the restart, and after another spell of sustained pressure by the visitors, Town's captain Mickey Parcell sent a neatly lofted long pass back into the left of City's area, after a poor defensive clearance. Bayley Brown brought it down (a five-word mini-poem for you). He then neatly went wide to his left, to beat one defender, before blasting a shot through a second defender and the 'keeper, low across the goal mouth and into the far corner of the net, from a very narrow angle. Cue away fan delirium.
With one notable exception, even the supposedly neutral Y-M posse celebrated like they were life-long Town fans. And it was a goal worthy of such celebrations. Although there was more still to come. After c. 75 minutes, and a long clearance from Wright, into the prevailing wind, Jack Bates was put through on goal by a well-won, glancing header on the Chelmsford edge of the centre circle. His controlling touch took him towards the right of City's goal area. From where he cut a shot back to the left, through Collins's legs. A despairing touch from whom was not enough to stop the ball bobbling agonisingly in, over the line. More fan madness erupted behind the home goal.
There were several other half-chances, and both sides had a goal disallowed. But the full-time whistle, when it finally came, was enough to send the visiting fans and players into meltdown. Results elsewhere had gone Enfield's way. Both St. Albans AND Salisbury had lost at home. The latter, perhaps surprisingly, against already-relegated, bottom-of-the table Aveley. Making the visitors' post-match celebrations in Chelmsford even more lengthy and heart-felt.
Jez, the Y-M's resident Chelmsford fan (and a former player for them, in his glory days) summarised well. Hospitably acknowledging that Enfield had been the better-organised side, had retained their shape well, shown more forward purpose and had made the better chances. Earning what was, all-in-all, a well-deserved win and a chance of league survival.
After the final whistle, Enfield's players communally thanked every single travelling fan in person, before continuing the celebration of a vital win - together.
And yet Jez and I (and others) also agreed that the player on the pitch showing the most poise on the ball and the best level of individual touch and potential was, perhaps unsurprisingly, City's on-loan right midfielder, #27 Nico Valentine, aged 20 years old. The mystery yet to be resolved in his case is just what this beautiful game might still hold in store for him, personally. Being out on loan from a Premier League side (currently, at least, near the top of the pyramid) to a mere Tier 6 club may not bode well for his prospects of future professional success and advancement. Only time - and hard graft, perhaps? - will tell. Football, she can be a harsh mistress. Or so we hear.
Get your best reading glasses on for the tiny print: the Non-League Paper's brief match report.
The Y-M boys seemed as pleased as I was, with the result. Which was just as well, since we had to wait a fair while, for the players overground "tunnel" to be removed and to escape the ground. Although none of us much minded the wait, under the circumstances. I was belatedly informed that their progress around the lower leagues frequently throws up away team victories. Had I known that before the game, I might well have put my house on a Towners win. Or maybe not?
Some more of The Towners' dedicated away following. Proudly posing post-match for Y-M cameras, with their transport and their slightly schizophrenic Enfield-Spurs banner. Although the term "Audere est Facere" ["To dare is to do"] certainly seemed apt for Enfield's game plan and tactics, this time out.
The above image was shared with me later by Mike, one of the other Y-M members, under the message heading, "we are fncking staying up!" [my mis-spelling!]. Given that the group arrived largely as neutrals, plus one of us each on either side of the competitive divide, it was a telling testament to the tenacity and attractive style of Town's play that the Y-Ms considered themselves lucky enough to have witnessed it - and become honorary Towners. At least for the day. And that, despite largely being Essex men, through and through.
Image: the programme cover for Enfield Town's Good Friday relegation 6-pointer, against local rivals St. Albans.
And so onwards. And upwards? As I finish typing, we are less than 17 hours from kick-off in what is arguably one of Enfield Town's most important games ever. We welcome(?) St Albans to Donkey Lane, with our season's fate entirely in our own hands. A bumper crowd is expected for what is also one of Enfield's most local derby matches. Slaves have already bought my ticket in advance, which is a rarity. This is decidedly a game NOT to be missed. Why?
Town sit comfortably in 6th, in the latest 6-game form table. While St. Albans lie well below us there, in 12th place. What could possibly go wrong? Football. THAT is what could yet go wrong.
It's famously been called both "a funny old game!" (by "Sir" Jimmy Greaves - himself described by Wiki as 'one of the greatest strikers of all time and one of England's best ever players') AND "The Beautiful Game". The latter by no less than Pelé ('one of the greatest players of all time, he was among the most successful and popular sports figures of the 20th century'). Let's hope Greavesie is wrong, on this occasion.
The two sides are rather more uncomfortably close (from Enfield's perspective, at least) in the actual League Table. See below. Get those reading glasses back on and look carefully towards the bottom...
Every team in the mix has just THREE fixtures remaining, out of 46, with which to influence and decide their end of season fate. Bruisingly, yet excitingly, relegation matters are now reduced to a matter of close-quarter combat, between just four clubs. An Enfield win will secure their Tier 6 survival. For at least another season. And potentially another tilt at the title and further promotion. For which we will, surely, be rather better-equipped next time.
A draw, however, would leave matters very much in the balance, mathematically at least, due to St Albans's significantly superior goal difference. A defeat (whisper it!) could yet prove catastrophic. Whichever way things go, it seems an obvious time for The Pharaoh to have broken his radio silence, don't you think? I avoid all obvious, cheap, blasphemous and tasteless allusions to resurrections, or returns from the footballing edge, on this spiritual weekend for some/many. Except for that one, there.
If things have NOT gone according to the home side's plans by 5pm tomorrow, an away fixture at Boreham Wood and a final home game against Worthing (both are firmly in the promotion mix) might be all that separate Enfield Town from relegation back whence they came. We ALL hope not, don't we? Come On, You Towners!
Meanwhile, at the other end, promotion remains firmly in Truro City's own very capable hands. Their final day fixture? It's at home to St Albans City. Of course. Spooky, eh?
Could Truro yet go on to further success in future, and prove to be the Manchester United of the West? Just as former Fulham owner Fayed (now deeply discredited) once promised The Cottagers would become, in The Beautiful South. And is such a title even something to aspire to, any more? One might need to ask British billionaire Sir Jim Ratcliffe about that.
The Beautiful, Mysterious, Unsettling, Potentially Finance-Destroying Game, indeed. Which is why Enfield Town must follow their own rocky road, whilst aiming to continue succeeding very much within their budget, at their own level.
Town have been busy proving "Big Jack" to have been spot on, in his opening these dusty, rambling thoughts: There's no such thing as an unimportant game. All 46, throughout the Vanarama season, have had their tell-tale impacts. As you can now plainly see...
* Our Pharaonic early quotation is from 'Ozymandias' (1818), by Percy Bysshe Shelley. Ozymandias was the Greek name for Ramses II of Egypt, 13th Century B.C. Before he lost The Big Game and was "relegated".
