Hartlepool United v Torquay United 2021
The National League is a land of stark contrasts, on the one hand you have established long term non league teams at the peak of their football journey and on the other you have an array of ex league clubs who are at the lowest point in their history. As a fan of a long established league club it is impossible to fully comprehend the situation unless you have experienced it. You think it is never going to happen to you, then wham the rug gets ripped from underneath and the next thing you know your new manager is kitted out in a blue Jako jacket, you have to qualify for the FA Cup 1st round, Adam Virgo is omnipresent and time wasting and shithousery have suddenly become a big part of your life.
We were relegated on the final day of the 2016/2017 season, a campaign that began with much promise ended with us being in the hands of out of their depth owners and with Dave Jones in the dugout. Despite beating champions elect Doncaster Rovers live on Sky thanks to two goals from 18 year old Devante Rodney, a late winner in the Newport game meant they leapfrogged us to safety and we were staring into the abyss. After many years flirting with oblivion and the drop into Non League, lady luck had caught up with us and we were down.
There are generally two common themes with teams that are relegated out of the league, firstly they are usually in the midst of, or recovering from some form of ownership crisis and secondly, despite point one there is the assumption that they will bounce back almost immediately and with style. When Dover turned up at Victoria Park on the opening day there was a sense of optimism around the place, new beginnings and all that. A one nil defeat later and the reality of our new existence was quickly sinking in.
Those first two and a bit seasons packed a lot in - we almost went bust, we changed ownership, we were almost relegated again, we went through five managers (two of which were Craig Hignett and one, a short lived spell from Richard Money, who left his role after an altercation with a fan in a fish and chip shop), we had a racism incident, we didn’t win many games and we went through a hell of a lot of players.
Then in late 2019 something happened which changed the course of our National League adventure, Craig Hignett was sacked and Dave Challinor was appointed as our new boss following his recent departure from Fylde. An experienced and successful Manager at this level and for once we were in the right place at the right time. Immediately you sensed a change in direction, new players arrived and we were a much different proposition to previously, gradually climbing the table and coming into form at just the right time for a play-off push. Then Covid and lockdown hit and the season was curtailed, PPG came into play and we finished 9th.
The 2020/21 season began behind closed doors and whilst we adjusted to the new reality of watching the games via varying quality live streams we understandably never really got going on the pitch. However just before Christmas things clicked into place - key new signings, a settled team and the form of Rhys Oates meant we quickly started picking up some points and established ourselves in the top 3. Following a 16 game unbeaten run we stuttered as the season came to a close, 3 defeats in the last 5 games meant any hope of the title disappeared and we dropped out of the top 3, ending the season in fourth position and the play offs.
We blew Bromley away with 3 quick goals in the first half of our quarter final at Victoria Park and a Rhys Oates goal capped the perfect away performance in the semi final at Stockport County. Torquay United were now between us and a return to the Football League, a Torquay team that had dismantled us 5-0 on our own patch live on BT Sport at the start of the season.
Hartlepool United have never played at Wembley, our previous opportunity to play there was in the 2005 League One Play Off final which was played at the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff as Wembley was being rebuilt. Due to a clash with the rescheduled Euro 2020, Wembley was out of bounds again and seemingly the only ground the National League could get hold of was Ashton Gate in Bristol.
Despite the complaints about the journey and the ticket price (£41) I was secretly pleased the game was in Bristol, it is one of my favourite cities in the UK and both footballing sides of the city have been a real support with my design work. I was also excited to tick a new ground off the list and for the chance to have another football away trip with my son. Just over 3,000 tickets were made available so the decision to invest in season tickets for a behind closed doors campaign finally paid off as I was able to pick up tickets without any issues. Whilst a couple of fans caused panic by turning up to queue overnight, igniting a social media frenzy and a huge queue at the ground for the last remaining tickets.
The weekend itself was a surreal and emotionally charged one, the long journey from our home in Gateshead to Bristol was broken up with a pitstop at Tamworth services at the same time as the team coach. We were somehow the only Pools fans in the vicinity and the squad were more than obliging to pose for photos with my son, my attempt at a Churchillian pep talk ended up with me repeating the phrase “just make sure you smash them”, much to my lads embarrassment.
Once we finally arrived in Bristol and settled in we headed out for a walk up to Clifton Village to grab something to eat and take in the majesty of the Suspension Bridge. In amongst the shops and bars and weekend revellers it soon became quickly apparent that something was wrong. We both looked up to the roof of the house we were passing and saw the shape of a figure and the voice of someone trying to reassure whoever was up there.
The horror on the face of every one in the nearby vicinity as the reality of the situation quickly became apparent, it sadly turned to tragedy as the situation unfolded to a tragic climax just yards from where we were stood. The shock as we settled down on a nearby park bench, as the emergency services headed to the scene whilst on the next street people were going about their business unaware of the situation that had just played out. Trying to comprehend what had just happened whilst comforting my son the following days football match all of a sudden felt insignificant and I felt a distinct guilt for feeling stressed and anxious about it. The rest of the evening became a much more muted affair, we popped out for pizza and settled down for a disjointed nights sleep, nervous about the following day but both still in shock after earlier events.
After breakfast and checkout we headed off early for the game. After a few laps of the ring road we finally found the right car park and set off on our trip through the nearby park to the stadium. Following the sights and sounds of the Pools fans in the distance, all congregated outside an off licence which was having the best Sunday in its history.
Ashton Gate is a stadium I have illustrated many times before and is one that has gone under extensive renovation in recent years. It sits adjacent to the flats that stood in as Nelson Mandela House in Only Fools, it is also the home of previous play off heartache in 2004 when the late Neale Coopers side were undone by two last ditch goals.
On a dull, overcast miserable day the match went by in a blur, Luke Armstrong gave us the lead before half time, I then spent the 2nd half pacing between my seat and the concourse at regular intervals. I then sat with my head in my hands throughout the 6 minutes of injury time at the end of the game, just willing the referee to blow his whistle. As the 6 minute timer I put on my phone was ticking down and the game was coming to a close, the Torquay fans erupted, their goalkeeper had equalised with practically the last touch of the game.
Heartbreak. Extra time came and went as the game drifted towards the lottery that is penalties. I have watched countless penalty shootouts, my first experience was Italia 90 and that semi final in Turin, then 1996 and 1998 and so on. They always ended badly but this was a new experience for me, it was my team, in ten minutes time it would either be euphoria or dejection, the prize at stake was massive.
I was level with the penalty spot as the players lined up to take their kicks, I put my arm around my sons shoulder as Pool’s captain Nicky Featherstone stepped forward to take the first kick, and missed. Then things took a turn, the next three penalties were unsuccessful, four kicks down and still no goal for either team, until Mark Shelton stepped forward and put us ahead.
This seemed to wake everyone up and the rest of the penalties were dispatched expertly until poor Matt Buse came to take his turn for the Gulls. The words of Adam Summerton’s commentary and the sequence of sounds as the ball is struck, hits on loan goalkeeper Brad James arm, strikes the bar and bounces back into play is forever etched into my memory and makes me well up whenever I watch or hear it. After a momentary pause as what just happened sank in, the crowd went mad, we had done it, we were back in the league!
The aftermath was a mixture of emotions, exhausted and ecstatic whilst trying to come to terms with the reality of the events that occurred during our weekend in Bristol. The long drive home offered plenty of scope for reflection and was filled with hope for the future, we had finally escaped from that bastard league. Despite a promising first season back in the EFL and cup runs in both the FA Cup and Papa Johns Trophy, we never recovered from the shock and fallout of Dave Challinor leaving to take the reins at Stockport County.
As I write this we are now 3 years down the line from that afternoon, back languishing in the National League and onto our 7th manager in that time frame. A culmination of a series of disastrous decisions made in terms of recruitment coupled with an owner on a self destruct mission, intent on taking the club and fans with him. The post promotion and lockdown buzz that was generated around the club and town evaporated and we are back to where this story began in 2017.
However, football, like life, consists of a series of singular events that make up the narrative of the whole story, sometimes it's just best to appreciate the moment for what it is and disregard the bigger picture. Sometimes I find myself recounting the events of the weekend as I go for a walk, running the penalty shoot out through my head, reflecting on that feeling when promotion became a reality but also thinking about the tragic events on the Saturday. It is certainly a weekend that will be forever etched in my memory. 
