From The Top, to... well, quite a long way down

And from The Sublime…… to The Ridiculous?

The Premier League

Fulham F.C. vs. Manchester United

Sunday 24th August 2025, kick-off: 4.30pm

Attendance: not published - c. 28,000?

Venue: Craven Cottage.

Regular readers will already be aware that your Fabulous Football Pharaoh is accustomed to the finer things in life. [And non-regulars could probably have assumed it, too.] As is his unchallenged, sole male heir, also.

It should, therefore, come as little surprise to hear that we were both in attendance for Fulham F.C.’s latest contretemps with the self-appointed Best Football Club in the World, this weekend. And that we did so in style, by attending the newly appointed “Sky Deck” lounge, in the club’s now fully functioning newest stand, The Riverside (official grand opening, May 2025). It’s rather unimaginatively named, given that it runs along the side of London’s mighty River Thames (🎵 “I live by the river…” 🎵) and uses premium river views as a dreamily distracting design concept - and a pre-match contrast to its pitch-facing views.

It sits proudly opposite English professional football’s oldest stand, the Johnny Haynes (1905, formerly the Stevenage Road stand). With its quaint wooden seats and early 20^th century amenities. U.S. visitors have been known to liken it to elements of Boston's Fenway Park; one of just two remaining "jewel box" ballparks still in use in Major League Baseball, along with Chicago's Wrigley Field.

The contrasting, ultra-sleek, ultra-modern Riverside Sky Deck is so named because… well, because it reaches almost to the clouds, like a veritable, modern-day Tower of Babel, awaiting the smiting, jealous hand of god, etc.

“Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!", 

as FFC’s rather appropriately-named owners, The Khans, might say.

The vertiginous view from the clouds: FFC players take a pre-match stroll on the pitch, in front of England's oldest AND newest football stands. While their mighty home city glowers menacingly on visitors, in the background, beyond the green-fringed streets of low-level housing.

Attending proceedings that day (and the next day, elsewhere – see below) gave me a nudge and permission to make some observations about the different business models emerging across The Pyramid. So let’s start at the very top.

There’s been significant coverage recently of the “fact”(?) that Fulham now boasts the dubious honour of offering its fans “the most expensive season tickets in the EPL”. And, therefore, by extension – in the world!? Although, as ever, that assertion depends entirely on exactly what it is you’re measuring, of course. And what your agenda might be.

‘Season tickets in Fulham's Riverside Stand can already cost up to £3,000 - the highest in the league - and a new eight-tier hospitality section… offering Michelin-star inspired menus, rooftop pool access on the three-floor 'Sky Deck', sweeping views across the River Thames and London, plus the best halfway-line seats.’ See: https://www.bbc.co.uk/sport/football/articles/cx272pe5154o.

Quite rightly, it was in these most super-premium seats that the current Pharaoh and his future successor were to be suitably ensconced, in unrivalled luxury, for the duration. Just right for watching 22x lads kick around a sack of air, in the day’s Premier League action. I did even go so far as to look for Imperial Leather soap in the bathrooms, on your behalf. But, perhaps surprisingly (at least for readers of “a certain age”) to no avail.

Thanks to my generous, season ticket holding buddy, John (who was unavoidably out of town) Cal and I were able to experience what life is now like at the very pinnacle of hospitality in English football’s “Pyramid” structure.

To summarise, the view is great (see below). Whilst the wide range of food and drink options are also most acceptable, even to those of us with the finest and fussiest of tastes.

The view from "the cheap seats": kick-off approaches, the Johnny Haynes stand is finally filling up, and flame-throwers are deployed. Naturally!

The pre-match and half-time menus were, indeed, in Michelin-star style - and of similar quality. While the Skyline’s river views are unmatched in English football.

Its bottomless drinks fountains, meanwhile, included Guinness (and lesser beers), Veuve Cliquot champage (blanc et rosé, bien sûr), table wines, cocktails (we sampled excellent pre-lunch Espresso Martinis), mocktails (whatever THEY are?!), cognacs, malt whiskys, G&Ts, obsequiousness and much, much more besides.

Pharaoh and son: the former (right) clearly in need of some urgent hair maintenance.

 
Indeed, more or less “whatever you desire” – as the watch-word of L.A. Confidential’s famous (fictional) Fleur-de-Lis club once had it.
… oh, and the club also provides a match programme, too.

I was, almost inevitably, lured into suitably Pharaonic song, by all of this. Even before kick-off:

🎶 “I've come across the desert

To greet you with a smile.

My camel looks so tired, 🐫

It's hardly worth my while

To tell you of my travels

Across the golden East. 🌄

I see your preparations

Invite me, first, to feast.

… dreams are made of this.” 🎶

Just don’t ask for a cup of tea and a slice of cake, if you wish to avoid late-afternoon disappointment. Small sacrifices!

We did some early, mandatory, “celebrity” spotting. Saint Gary of Lineker was there, for instance; plus, entirely separately, mistress Tabitha Willett and entourage, were all in attendance. The latter, apparently, is a wannabee who was made in Chelsea. At least I think Cal said “made”.

Football-loving(?) Ms Willett - or won't it? 

Arriving fashionably early, two hours before kick-off, in order to optimise our "match-day experience" and refresh ourselves after an arduous journey, we would later take a leisurely, pre-match lunch (strangely timed as a result of SKY TV’s need for a 4.30pm kick-off) whilst seated at the table next to a proud mother. That of Fulham FC’s latest emerging talent: young midfield tyro, Josh King, who has now left the Academy far behind him, in his turbulent wake.

She was, presumably, celebrating her son’s recently renewed and lucrative club contract, amongst other things. But was far too polite to mention it. He had, notably, been voted the Fulham fans’ Man of the Match in the club’s opening day draw, away at Brighton.

As she left her table, she summarised her hopes for the day: that Fulham would not lose, and that her son would play well. One assumes she meant undaunted by his sudden, stellar trajectory. I congratulated her on her rising star. A lovely lady for whom, surely, good things are due. And don’t call me surely!

The Riverside is a key element in the Khan’s emerging business model for Fulham F.C. But don’t take MY word for it. Here’s the BBC’s Nizaar Kinsella on all this: “Fulham's 'world class' Riverside fan experience is the Premier League's relentless march towards monetising the matchday experience.”

Although I note that the BEEB describes him as their ‘Football news reporter, with specific responsibility for covering Chelsea’. So he may have simply got lost, on his way to visiting our nuisance neighbours – or been informed by some personal agenda on this matter. We will be making the short trip up the road to them on Saturday.

But let’s move on to more directly footballing matters. Interestingly, in his pre-match programme notes, manager Marco Silva presciently identified that Fulham’s recent games against The Red Devils ‘have been tight and settled by small details’. It’s unlikely, however, that he foresaw those would almost entirely be decisive small VAR details. I will not bore you with a blow-by-blow match summary. You can find plenty of those elsewhere. Although I wouldn't recommend CNN's "expert"(?) coverage (see image below). If Yoro is Bassey's team-mate, that might help to explain why no foul was awarded, for the former's blatant two-handed push in the back on him.

It sufficeth, I think, merely to draw some big picture conclusions. But Josh King's Mum got at least one of her two wishes:

1) The application of VAR is an absolute mess. And, for “smaller clubs”, a lottery with predictable outcomes. Making the word "lottery" a generous description. Given that its decisions are so seemingly completely biased to The Big Clubs. And Sunday’s visitors.

More Fulham points get flushed down the PGMOL toilet. A well-worn meme, doing the rounds this week. ('Rear Window' , anybody?)

2) Manchester United are a nervous side. With much to be nervous about. Although Cunha looks to have the makings of a decent acquisition, if Amorim doesn't ruin him, first.

When the sad time eventually comes to pass, that Callum takes over his rightful mantle from me as The Fabulous Football Pharaoh, he will be the first Spurs fan to take on that hot seat. Assuming he still IS a Spurs fan, by the time that dismal day comes around, of course.

Yes, whisper it, Fulham is only his “second team”. And that despite everything I did to help him see the clear light of day and behave in the manner of an all-knowing, all-powerful ruler.

His first ever match having been Norwich City vs. FFC (0 - 1, on 28 Aug 2000, when he was aged not yet quite 7 and almost exactly 25 years ago to the day). In the days when Fulham were making their way up The Pyramid under the ownership of an allegedly habitual sex offender. So Cal ought, by rights and by traditional football lore, to be either a Fulham or a Norwich fan. But Gen. Y will insist on having things their own strange way.

By coincidence (or not?) he would later go on to study History at UEA, in Norwich. Like some sort of misguided and delayed homing pigeon.

His Spurs connection is interesting, on this occasion, partly because we found ourselves sitting next to another Spurs fan. He was there with his Fulham-supporting buddy. That seemed a little odd. But much less so than the large number of United fans who were comfortably (and expensively) ensconced in The Riverside.

It is, one assumes, in the nature of ultra-premium hospitality that such tickets must be sold. No matter to whom. In order to optimise revenue. Or, at the very least, to reduce the loss-making risk on the day versus the club’s investment / required outlay.

Fulham fans’ views on all this premiumisation vary. From the self-focussed and parochial, to those with a rather better-informed view of The Bigger Picture. I’ve lifted one example of the latter from a fan Facebook post (25/8/25):
‘Who cares if visiting supporters or “ tourists “ come and watch the matches? It’s better than having empty seats and supports the club financially. Which in turn helps the club meet the financial fair play requirements, so it can (eventually ) invest in new players.’ Quite so, Lee!

Media coverage: The Khan Way. Not sure I entirely recognise myself in this description of FFC's fans. But I guess one out of two ain't bad.

Back down to Earth and camel-less, Cal and I wound our weary way back up the Thames path after the game, in the lowering light. Suitably "refreshed", and mulling over what might have been, if only a referee from Manchester hadn't been appointed to officiate the match. Again!

One of the undisputed greatest match-day walks in world football. The other one heads South towards Putney Bridge, of course.

The result had been a controversial 1-1 draw. MotD pundit Rob Green accurately battered both of the major VAR decisions: "They intervened when they shouldn't have done; and didn't, when they should have!" Casting doubt on PGMOL officials understanding of the game. Which is a serious charge and handicap.

A few days later, in mid-meeting, a United-supporting client asked me for my objective view of that result. I told him, as wisely as ever, that the Pharaoh couldn’t possibly offer an objective and unbiased view. But that a neutral fan might have said the score-line was a fair reflection, despite the egregious errors perpetrated by the referee and his VAR colleagues. I'm not in the business of losing business, after all.

Meanwhile, objective official match statistics showed a slightly different story. With Fulham ahead on: “Expected Goals” (whatever they are?!); overall possession; shots; shots on target; touches inside the opposition’s box; corners; one-on-one attempts; offsides; total passes; pass accuracy; forward passes; successful final third passes; crosses; and won tackle %.

While United led on shots off target (including one memorable penalty miss); long balls; total tackles; total clearances; clearances off the line – oh, and on those all-important VAR decisions (2-0). All of which hardly amounts to “Total Football”, nor match dominance.

You can probably make your own call about the balance of the game, based on all of that data. Regardless of what slant the BBC’s TV highlights package might otherwise have had you believe.

"Early days", in the new season; and hardly

worth checking out the league table yet.

The next day, I awoke with a surprisingly clear head – albeit with a sore throat. I signed myself off fit for duty, and for a second game in less than 24 hours. This time at the arguably rather appropriately-named Donkey Lane. Where early season strugglers, Enfield Town, would take on newly-promoted AFC Totton, in the Enterprise National League South. That’s tier 6 of my "Pyramid". Providing something of a contrast to yesterday's glittering experience.

The Enterprise National League South

Enfield Town vs. AFC Totton

Monday 25th August 2025, kick-off: 3pm

Attendance: 878

Venue: The Dave Bryant (formerly Queen Elizabeth II) Stadium, Donkey Lane.

Match-day tickets were £15, if bought in advance. As the club website says, ETFC refreshment options offer (though, sadly, NOT included in that entry price) ‘three sources of food or drink:

Come N Go Souvlaki and WhiteBox Catering… have a food hatch next to to the turnstiles which serves a variety of hot foods plus matchday specials, as well as tea, coffee etc.

Butler’s Bar, serves a range of lagers and ciders, and a regularly changing selection of ales from local breweries; also serves rolls etc. On busier matchdays, the main stand’s serving hatch also opens to serve as a bar facility

The Club Shop, which provides soft drinks, confectionery etc.’

Butler’s Bar: it's a tidy spot, when the locals aren't messing it up; and it offers very respectable views... but it ain't The Skyline Lounge! We cut our cloth according to our income, etc. It's for hire, y'know.

Notice that afternoon tea IS served. So, in some ways, their catering offer is superior to that of Craven Cottage's Skyline Lounge. And yet the business model is entirely different. No US-Indian multi-billionaire Sugar-Daddy to bail us out. And we wouldn’t want one! Instead, the club is 100% fan-owned. The first club in the country to adopt this model. Although others have since followed suit.

All matters, both on and off the field of play, therefore, have to be fully-financed by profits generated from revenue. Which is tough. But fully sustainable. And made a little easier after narrowly surviving (on the last day of the season) a first year operating “at this level”.

Again, I won't bore you with a full match report. The club’s own coverage is available here (far be it from me to duplicate effort!): https://etfc.london/town-fire-blanks-again/

An Enfield long throw-in, inbound. Taken from in front of the characterful, Art Deco main stand.

It's much newer than the Johnny Haynes!

My Big Picture view? That age-old cliché, “a game of two halves”. Town had the ball in the back of the net twice in the first half. But the refereeing gods were against us. At half-time I heard one home fan grumble they’d “gone 6 hours without a goal”. It seemed like an exaggeration. My own detailed calculations made it only c. 5.5 hours. But they may have been rounding up. And they had certainly, assiduously identified Town’s current Achilles Heel: not enough finishing power.

First half pressure comes to nought, for ETFC. Again!

The standard of goal-keeping is surprisingly(?) high "at this level" - also see my opening day match report, below. And the visitors' GK proved no exception to that observation. Making a couple of crucial, athletic stops to deny Enfield at least the  single point they had probably just about "deserved".  And arguably all three. I've said it before, but The Beautiful Game is a cruel mistress.

A corner and late second half pressure comes to nought, for ETFC. Again!

You can rely on good shape discipline and sturdy defending only for so long, if you’re not banging them in up front. Only until c. the 89^th minute to be precise, as it turned out. When an uncharacteristic GK handling error led to the only goal of the game. Predictably, it was for the visitors. Leaving Town in familiar league table territory, with little risk of vertigo.

Not quite such early days for Enfield;
and already fairly scary reading.

Town do look more solid than at this time last season, with a stronger squad. But we're really not enjoying the Rub of the Green. Yet! Though they often say you make your own luck, in this game.

Though I suspect that's only true in the top flight if you DON’T have crooked VAR on your side. Plus Gazillions of dollars to fritter away, like confetti. Like some newer and less well-established clubs one could mention...

An artist's impression of Fulham's
noisy neighbour's squad bus.

Home and Away, Football is BACK! Season openers, 2025-'26

The Enterprise National League South

Torquay United vs. Enfield Town

Saturday 9th August 2025, kick-off: 3pm

Attendance: 3,859

Venue: Plainmoor, Devon

AND

Enfield Town vs. Maidenhead United

Saturday 16th August 2025, kick-off: 3pm

Attendance: 758

Venue: The Dave Bryant (formerly Queen Elizabeth II) Stadium, Donkey Lane.

... And I don't mean that glorified nonce-fest we call the Premier League, either. I'm talking about REAL football. At grass roots level. Played by real men. Down and dirty. Just like it used to be in the Blue-Remembered Hills of my youth. With jumpers for goal posts and long breaks for meals. When sideburns went all the way and shin pads were for poofters. When grass was still a luxury reserved only for August. And maybe September, if the groundsman could be ar5ed.

Nowadays, we're all poofters, of course. Or women. Or both! And, even "at this level", most players would complain if there wasn't grass on parts of the pitch at least until December. Whatever next?

And so it came to pass that, in the catchily-named Enterprise National League South (the 6th tier of English football's "Pyramid") for the second successive season, Enfield Town F.C. were faced with an opening day 420-mile round trip, to promotion-fancying Torquay United. That’s a lot of miles for my camel to have to trudge.

Enfield's own season aspirations, meanwhile, may need to be somewhat more (ahem!) "calibrated", having finally survived the dreaded drop last year only on the last day of the season.

🎵“On the road again.
Goin' places that I've never been.
Seein' things that I may never see again…”🎵

I'm always (stupidly?) impressed by the commitment, determination and fortitude of football fans who follow their club through thick and thin, home and away, in sickness and in health. Sober or not. Let me reassure you immediately that I am NOT one of those kinds of hardened fans.

A holidaying and fixture computer coincidence, however, meant that this year I would be able, relatively easily, to combine my first ever week away on vacation in Brixham with a short road trip to nearby Plainmoor. Torquay's home ground of c. 104 years; and a former home of League football. A new ground for me, not that I deliberately and anally "collect" grounds, like some do. Plainmoor is what many fans would probably think of as a "proper" football ground. With a view.

Plainmoor. Not ALL that plain, after all.

Whereas Enfield's own home ground might be considered, by comparison, to be a mere metaphorical "tiny acorn", from which it is hoped a mighty oak might eventually one day grow. Sustainably.

Brixham makes a claim to be England's largest fishing port, at least by value of catch. Albeit dwarfed by the major Scottish ports of Peterhead and Fraserburgh. One look at this picturesque Devenish harbour (see below) might make you doubt its mighty claim. Its catch does, however, have a focus on valuable shellfish. A fact which also made for fantastic meal options, throughout our holiday week: from Cod, Haddock and Hake (of course) to shrimps, scallops and lobster. With many other different fish types, in between. Including a curry. The food and the views are to be highly recommended.

A Room with a View: Brixham harbour, taken from our holiday cottage.

My Saturday afternoon view promised to be rather different, though. If not to say prosaic. So it seemed only fair that, having dragged an old college buddy who is now Devon-based out to join me at the game, I should meet him at a pub with a sea view - for a pre-match meal and drinks. Steak and chips with pints of local ale. Luvverly! I include this, perhaps relatively mundane, detail primarily for the benefit of Grant Trebble (“Barbados’s finest”?). Long story, and one of the prompts that first started me off on my long and circuitous Enfield Town (and occasional blogging) journey.

The Fabulous Football Pharaoh with Hugh B, ready for the game.
Though only one of us is in club colours.

Now, Hugh and I go back longer than either of us probably cares (or even dares?) to routinely remember. All the way back to Sept. 1982, in fact, and my first appearance at a Wednesday afternoon college team kick-around. He and I were amongst the small number of a male student intake at what had previously, and until recently, been an all-female college. So we necessarily ended up playing a number of men’s sports together.

It was all so very long ago that there is, thankfully, little or no photographic evidence. Perhaps cameras had not yet been invented? Eventually, we went our separate and different ways, of course, in June 1985: career-wise, geographically, philosophically(?). But it’s been football that has largely kept us rebounding and boomeranging. Coming back together for reunion tours and related social gatherings over many years. Don’t calculate those years though, just cut us in half and count the rings.

And yet this was probably the first time we’d met up meaningfully, face-to-face together, in c. 8-10 years. Maybe longer? For me, that’s one of football’s great, enduring capabilities. Providing us with opportunities to form strong bonds; and then to keep them going over decades - and distances. That's what this football lark is really all about, isn't it?

Once upon a time, Hugh was a goalkeeper – and still is, at heart. While I was an inspirational, Beckenbauer-esque defender/defensive midfielder. At least in my own head! And still try to be, on a weekly basis, in the old men’s Walking Football format of the game. Not least with Enfield Town W.F.C. Hugh and I were able to pick up our conversation and discuss the game (and all things life-related) as though we were merely continuing on from last night's conversation.

Infamy, infamy…
they’ve all got it in for me!

After a spell of Northern missionary work in Scarborough fair, and a role with the local non-league club, Hugh still bears the deep psychological scars of the club’s alleged mistreatment at the hands of its local council. Resulting in its winding up, after 128 resonant years. The club was older than Torquay United.

Enfield Town’s own fans will be only too familiar with the sound of the moment of infamy which Hugh still relates so very passionately. The final nail in the club’s metaphorical coffin.

A covenant had existed on the club’s McCain Stadium site, that restricted its use to sporting activities only. Sadly, Scarborough F.C. failed to convince the Borough Council that its proposal to sell the stadium to a housing developer would raise sufficient funds to pay off the club’s debts and build a new ground, thus deserving approval of their change of use application.

Yet, under new ownership, the site was mysteriously found to be suddenly deserving of that very change of use confirmation that had been withheld from the soccer club. "Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose", eh? But let’s just shake our heads knowingly and head back to the day’s action…

So Hugh is also your man, should you want an intelligent conversation about, and/or an examination of, non-league football. Its dos and don’ts, its politics, etc. Scarborough, incidentally, now boasts a Phoenix club (The Seadogs) as does Enfield (The Towners). Interestingly and coincidentally, these two sides both play in the same level of The Pyramid: the National Leagues North and South, respectively.

On the day, fan coaches travelling from Enfield left it late. Arriving in Fergie Time, with just 3-4 minutes to spare before kick-off. Perfectly judged, some might say. There were c. x179 away fans in attendance, including Hugh in his honorary role for the day, out of a total attendance of 3,859.

"Are you not entertained?"

I won’t bore you with a mundane match report on the opening day’s action. Instead, I’ve shared a screengrab of a short one below. From a more authoritative and independent source. Plus a confirmation of Town’s line-up.

My own view? It was, once again, that great Match of the Day cliché: “a game of two halves”. Wherein Torquay won the first half 3-0, pretty much fair and square. Albeit with the help of the usual smattering of “questionable” refereeing.

There was sunshine, naïve Enfield defending, some arguable (not) offside calls and more besides. Unlike in the same fixture last year, there was no go-ahead early goal for the visitors, to disrupt the home side’s pre-planned pattern of play. Last season, Lewis Taaffe had slotted home after just 4 minutes. If only!

Stand-out players for United were their #7, Louis Dennis (a recent arrival, apparently) and #8, Jordan Young. They scored the 1st and 2nd goals, respectively and gave Enfield's defence a torrid first half. Young also earned their bang-to-rights penalty.

While, with a formation change and perhaps somewhat surprisingly, Enfield recovered significantly to dominate and “win” the second half 0-1. Again, fair and square (albeit with the same smattering of “questionable” refereeing decisions – or, mostly, a lack of them). Whisper it, but there probably should have been a straight red card in the second half for an “agricultural” (rather appropriately) challenge on Town's striker, clear on goal. A Denial of an Obvious Goal-Scoring Opportunity (DOGSO). Or, in this case, an absolute dog’s dinner.

The home side’s website match report later ignored this Inconvenient Truth. But did acknowledge that, in their goal, ‘Hamon was kept busy’. No sh1t, Sherlock! TBF, several of his saves were top class. Each resulting in a forgivable nudge and a smile from my resident GK expert, Hugh. Saving (pun intended) all the points for Torquay.

Enfield’s only goal came from local lad, Mickey Parcell (“He’s one of our own…” – although he has also had spells at Torquay and elsewhere). You could say he successfully delivered the goods. If you were into bad puns, that is.

A very respectable, long-distance away following. Eventually.
Hugh and I are both in there, somewhere.
Source: ETFC supporters' site

Visiting fans may well have left the ground bemused at the number of good second-half chances our side had missed, or had saved or smothered. And at Town’s failure to secure at least 1 point from their second-half efforts and their long-distance travels. For 45 minutes, they'd had to make a lot of their own fun. With some great, mostly non-stop chanting, and baiting of the home crowd. The second half had seen a considerable turn around. And a continuation of the singing.

To the refrain of KC & the Sunshine Band’s famous tune:
🎵"Town away / Uh-huh, uh-huh / I like it!"🎵

Plus many of the other usual, witty suspects:
We forgot that you were here.
3-0, and you still don’t sing. 3-0…
You’ve got to stay here. We can go home!

With Truro promoted on the final day of last season, Enfield have at least got our longest road trip out of the way early. Although The West Country still beckons a couple more times, in the shape of  Bath and Weston-Super-Mare. Clue: it's really not THAT super.

I, of course, merely had to wend my weary way 9 miles south along the coastal road, to yet another slap-up shellfish supper, overlooking the sea. Tasty! But I would rather have had 3 opening day points to digest. Or at least one.

More of the Same?

Town’s much-improved second half performance at Torquay boded well for the visit of newly-relegated Maidenhead United, the following Saturday. Those “Magpies” arrived under the leadership of former Upton Park favourite, England winger, and F.A. Cup winner, Alan Devonshire. Although you might be forgiven for not recognising him, these days. Devonshire and I share a Park Royal connection. Where he was born and where I worked for most of 17 glorious Guinness years. In other local trivia: Central Middlesex hospital (which is no longer in the disembowelled county of Middlesex at all, of course – although Enfield still IS!) is renowned within the NHS as a leading centre for the study of gunshot wounds. I wonder why…

Luckily, my holiday schedule had me travelling home from Brixham on the Friday, via Lyme Regis, Monkey World and the M25 car park. Just in time to take in Enfield Town’s first home game of the season, in front of 758 x fans. This slightly disappointing attendance figure is partly accounted for by that previously rare thing, a Saturday 3pm home kick-off for local Big Boys, Spurs. Whose Under-21 side Town had recently despatched in a pre-season friendly.

I’ll be honest. This was NOT a game to write home about. Nor to write much about at all. So I will, instead, again mostly leave it to that same neutral source.

My own view? Rather than promotion prospects, Maidenhead looked more like relegation candidates. I posted at half-time that Town were looking the better team, against a "physical" side that did seem to love a long ball. And a good, unpunished shirt pull. Plenty of those.

It was goalless, at the time. And so it would stay. Good chances were at a premium. And arguably the tastiest action of the day came after the final whistle. Following a game where the referee seemed wary of making any decisions of import, and where temperatures were steadily rising, a 20-man ("handbags") brawl was always likely to be a fitting end to matters. Both sides will need to find their scoring boots if they are to survive, let alone thrive, this season. If not their boxing gloves.

Mind you, the visitors did arrive with a decent away following, amongst the 758 present. My encounters with whom were NOT promising. Clearly already surprisingly “refreshed” before kick-off, I had more trouble understanding what they were saying than I’d had with the Torquay fans.

It would seem they were still smarting from their recent relegation. And perceived mismanagement, etc. Now, if only their club were 100% fan-owned, eh? And being built sustainably, from the ground up, based on its actual income. A concept that will, surely, never catch on "at this level". But don’t call me Surely!

A mere single point harvested from the first 6 available may not look like much. But, as I type, we are barely more than 2 hours away from kick-off time of the next league fixture. Against local rivals, Hornchurch (7.45pm K-O). The fixtures come thick and fast, this early in the new season. A win would put Enfield on a healthy 4 points (W1 D1 L1). And even a single point would be respectable. 
While a defeat would probably have Towners fans reflecting on an uncomfortable Deja Vu.

And now, for me at least, it's back to the serious business of Walking Football...

Post Script: An 88th minute Tuesday night winner for the visitors prevented Enfield's hoped-for progress UP the table. Instead, we are second from bottom. While Hornchurch's continued 100% record has lifted them to second from the top. Just ahead of Torquay. Yes, it's been a truly tough opening to the new season for The Towners. And it's already feeling like déjà vu, all over again. To quote the iconic professional baseball player, manager, coach and wit, Lawrence "Yogi" Berra.

But things can only get better.

Right?

The Horrors of Relegation Time - For Some...

Leicester City and Southampton have already gone. Ipswich are just above the Premier League trap-door, awaiting the hangman's noose (if, perhaps, only for a few more days). NINE sides are still in the relegation mix in The Championship, with nothing yet finalised. Shrewsbury have gone from League One, and any three from nine other sides will join them. As I type, any two from seven clubs face a desultory League exit, out of Division Two. Gillingham are safe. AFC Fylde and Ebbsfleet United have already dropped out of the Vanarama National League. Two other sides will join them, from a list of TWELVE suspects.

Meanwhile, in the league that everybody's talking about (yes, Tier 6 of The Pyramid, the Vanarama National League South) three sides have already had their relegations confirmed (Welling United, Weymouth and Aveley). Only one more club from three possibles will join them. But just who will it be? Enfield Town, Salisbury or St Albans City? Exciting, innit?! All three clubs are currently experiencing what Mary Shelley described, in her introduction to 'Frankenstein' (the 1831 edition), 

a story... which would speak to the mysterious fears of our nature, and awaken thrilling horror; one to make the reader dread to look round, to curdle the blood, and quicken the beatings of the heart.

If your blood isn't curdled yet, and you think I perhaps exaggerate, I  provide evidence here of the existence of those primeval fears. If there's a silver-lining to said fears, at least for the nation's Maths teachers, it is that they've been known to mysteriously prompt a sudden and unlikely reignition of long-forgotten mathematical capabilities and latent interests, amongst the broader population. However short-lived that engagement might be.

And yet some (indeed, most) of the clubs threatened by the spectre of Relegation will survive the threat of the dreaded Drop. Below, I share an example of the hieroglyphs concocted by one avid Enfield Town fan, following the club's recent home tie against fellow relegation-threatened local rivals, St Albans. Similar detailed calculations of the odds, likelihoods, probabilities and potential scenarios in play are being concocted at breakfast tables, coffee shops, pubs, bars and clubs across the country, in myriad forms.

Football maths: relegation fears prompt a resurgence of interest in calculations and statistics across the nation, around this time every year. These spells and incantations were posted on social media by a Towners fan after Friday's result. Can YOU follow them?

As trailered in my previous post (see below: Thursday, 17 April 2025) St Albans came a-calling to Enfield's Dave Bryant Stadium, on Friday afternoon, for an Easter weekend relegation local derby. The maths seemed fairly simple. To me, at least. A defeat for Enfield (unthinkable, surely) would keep them deep in the relegation dogfight doo-doo. A win would secure their league survival. A draw could eke out the fear and horror for a potential further two games, yet - AND maintain our fear of The Drop. It was a game I could hardly fail to prioritise and attend. It is claimed that a crowd of 2,498 others had made the same decision, but the official attendance figure remains unconfirmed.

The opposing starting line-ups.

Do not adjust your sets! Club captain Mickey Parcell (centre) and the Enfield Town side (in white shirts) emerge into the blue haze of flare smoke from the home end, for their all-important encounter.

Although Enfield Town's form was VERY good, going into this fixture (unbeaten in their last seven games, with four wins - including the convincing displayed covered in my previous post, below) they seemed nervy, at the start of this encounter. They were up against relegation-threatened local rivals sitting two places below them. And a lot was at stake, after all. A highlights video is available by clicking HERE. But I will summarise the action very briefly for you.

The visitors' big #9, Jeffers, missed a couple of very good early chances before City took the lead through Banton, after just 17 minutes. It was simple stuff: a long throw from Rasulo, flicked-on via a header by James to their unmarked team-mate.

Town had narrowly missed a well-worked early team effort of their own (Dillon finishing it off, with an effort just wide of the left-hand post). And they didn't waste much time going after the equaliser. It was secured within five minutes. Although Dillon was credited with getting the final touch, I wasn't convinced about that, after a goalmouth scramble in which it wasn't clear that any body had got anything on Billy Leonard's excellent, teasing cross from the right.

There was a lot of huff and puff for the remainder of the game, with some half-chances and "close things" for both sides. But neither team showed much finesse in front of goal. Perhaps unsurprisingly, in a nervy game where so much was at stake. It was not a classic for the purists to enjoy. So much so, that I spent the final c. 15 minutes walking the perimeter of the pitch, catching up with old friends and team mates. Whilst hoping the visitors wouldn't land a late winner.

Spot the Ball! Goalmouth action, as Town (in white) press for a go-ahead goal, c. 35 minutes through the first half, in front of the main stand and the home end crowd. A full-house ensured an atmosphere that was officially "tasty".

At the end, the Towners' official club website confirmed colloquially, “It’s squeaky-bum time; but St Albans have got to pick up maximum points and Salisbury have got to get at least three. So we're still in the driving seat.” Here's hoping we're not on The Road to Nowhere, or to Hell! The stats don't lie. And the overweight female has yet to start warming up her vocal chords. See league table and the day's fixtures below, prior to the majority of Monday's kick-offs.

As I type this short post, the score-lines in all three games involving the relegation-threatened clubs remain 0 - 0, just after half-time. I'm listening to the live Enfield commentary. Couldn't make it along to Boreham Wood to watch today, having hurt my foot doing some weekend gardening. Long story - and not for here!

'His mouth resembled an ancient scar on a footballer’s knees.' I know how his mouth felt. A quote lifted from Philip Kerr's ‘If the Dead Rise Not’ (2009) - a Bernie Gunther Berlin Noir novel.

"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.

The Pharaoh's radio silence has been so uncharacteristically lengthy, however (over more than 18 months, apparently – who knew?!) that a short recap and perhaps even some typology may be required, to put you in the golden picture. I will approach these in my inimitable, way. Those who've been keeping actively up-to-date may prefer to "Pass Directly to Go". Although you probably won't be collecting £200 on the way.

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".