The campaign began at home to a newly formed and, on paper, impressive looking Lincoln side on August 9th, as the Millers began what would turn out to be a sensational month with the first of many early victories... August As thousands of fans made their first ever trip to the home of football Don Valley Stadium, a few things stood out.
The view wasn't that bad, the beer was drinkable and when I went to bite into my pie it tasted like plastic. What didn't stand out was that the bogs were cleaner and the smell more pleasant because those are totally irrelevant to real football fans.
Onto the game, as Mark Lynch, Alex Rhodes and the exciting Reuben Reid made their respective debuts. 2-0 rhodes reid was the preferred prediction on the messageboard. Half-chances and throw-ins aside, there wasn't much to be said of the game, and most of the attention had turned towards the trickling of Coca Cola down the steps of Blocks 1,3,4, 5 and 6. In Block 2 they only drink beer, that's why they smash seats at Stoke (see November to come). Suddenly, though, on 44 minutes, one of the newbies exploded into life. A hoofed ball from Pablo Mills (the first of 576 for the season) found Reid in a straight race with the ageing Nat Brown.
Reid powerfully burst into position, lent on the shoulder of his marker and tucked the ball beyond Rob Burch. Excellent. This lad has a bit about him. CO'G wouldn't have done that. Reid went on to light up the show with an extremely impressive display, possessing all the qualities you hoped a raw but promising sulker who'd moped around aimlessly around Wycombe and Plymouth would. Lincoln half-threatened late on but Stefan Oakes' freekick was stopped by Warrington and the increasing pressure of Dany N'Guessan on Jamie Green came to no avail as the Millers stumbled towards an opening day victory.
Relief, after the turmoil of the summer. And even more encouragingly, Don Valley seemed quite good. 4 years of this will not be that bad. The after match press caught up with an unnamed drunk...'So, how do you feel your first game at Don Valley went, sir?' 'Plus points, plus points' 'But sir, you're still on -14!' Afterwards, the Imps fan moaned of slippy stairs and shocking service, but this is RUFC, we don't care for our own fans' welfare, so to think we'd care for others is as ridiculous as Tony Stewart's July assertion that 'we can make the playoffs'. Speaking of Stewart, our next game was away at his club, as the much-anticipated game at Hillsborough finally arrived... ''You will lose, hopefully heavily' gushed Owls fan and general successful predictor sexpistol as the Millers entered the Sty for the first time since Darren Garner's injury time stunner in 2002. Nobody was expecting much, most were just hoping to put up a fight and not be 2-0 down in 10 minutes.
New signing Nick Fenton made his debut (and was outstanding) in what was probably the only game of the season when the Millers fans did themselves proud, as a few thousand made the short journey to see if a corner had really been turned. But it didn't take long for hearts to sink, as the enigmatic Etienne Esajas squeezed his way past Lynch and Harrison too easily before rifling a shot into the far corner. The next 8 seconds were horrible. We were 1-0 down for its entirety. But before the acne-ridden goons to our left could even remember the words to 'High ho Sheffield Wednesday', Leppings Lane had erupted. Straight from the kick off, a hoofed ball from Mills (the second of 576 for the season) actually passed itself as a perfectly executed, angled ball into the path of the approaching Alex Rhodes.
The former Bradford man squeezed in between defender and keeper to beautifully place home a left footed volley. 1-1 and back to square one. That was great, we'd had our fun, and while we basked in the glory of angrily screaming 'you're not singing anymore' at the porkers with the Rotherham Owls flag, we knew, deep inside, that we'd lose 3-1 and go home disappointed. Or maybe not.
Time passed by and, although the pigs hit the woodwork a few times with a few long range efforts, there was never a sustained period of pressure upon the impenetrable Millers backline, and most of Wednesday's play was somewhere between halfway line and penalty area, not doing that much with it. Extra time arrived, and barring a half chance for Reid, who had had a frustrating, nothing's-coming-off kind of night, there wasn't much goalmouth action as the Millers continued to give everything. It was special, this.
It wasn't a drama riddled, end-to-end, mouth-watering tempest of a game but it was resilient, it was brave, the players were playing for us but they were also playing for the club and its pride. And after years of having to laugh at ourselves to shield the pain of realisation of what a laughing stock we were, after 5-1 defeats to Port Vale, after 'your not fit to wear the shirt's at Northampton, after countless deductions, administrations, bucket begging, relegation fights, shite players and near extinction...you know what, we were proud. Meaning when, on 117, Joseph's clumsiness led to rashness as he bundled over Leon Clarke, and as Esajas cruelly floated in the winner from the resultant free kick, despite the heads in hands and painful disbelief in Leppings Lane, it somehow didn't matter. That we'd taken our (two divisions higher) biggest rivals right down to the wire of wires, and had stood up for ourselves on the pitch against superior opposition as we did in those glory years of the early 2000s, was the most important thing. But hang on. We've got a throw.
Bums left seats in hope rather than expectation as Green lined up what was surely our last hope of something stupidly special, but little did the circa 3000 Millers in the away end know that they wouldn't be sitting back down on that seat for the rest of the night. Green tossed it in. Forced clear, but only as far as Todd. Back to Lynch. Spooned in high, where Sharps sort of won the first header. The rebound found itself between Sharps and the approaching Grant. The Wednesday stopper half smothered it but only as far as Hudson, who was tussling with Esajas. Neither got much on the ball, and suddenly, 6000 eyes lit up behind the goal. Why? Because as the ball bobbled right in front of the Owls' goal, it was a yellow shirt approaching it, as Harrison found himself with the chance to be a Millers hero. But just as we were about to go berserk...''F***ING HELL! YOU F***ING MORON! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! SCOUSE B*****D! I'M NOT COMING WHILE HE'S IN THE TEAM EVER AGAIN! UNNOTICED MY F*****G AR...WHA...WHA! YAHHHHHHH!!!!!!'! The chance hadn't gone.
That Harrison had managed to scoop the ball up onto the crossbar from virtually underneath it paled into insignificance seconds later, as Wednesday failed to clear the bouncing ball and Reid, poised, angled a left footed volley, via the head of a desperate Beevers, into the top of the net. Delirium. It had happened. We'd equalised. Somehow, as strangers strangled and hugged each other, bodies flung around and Mandy nearly revealed his identity to the bald man, probably Brin, kissing his soft cheeks, the big kid came out of every Miller in that moment.
The romantics could even suggest that all the pent up frustration of the last few years was let out in a burst of unbridled ecstasy as we finally had something to cheer about, some dirt to rub in someone else's face, the chance to properly celebrate without a big fat 10 point deduction waiting smugly around the corner. There was, as one Mad poster put it on the night, something transcendent going on. With all this drama unfolding, Marko95 remained calm throughout, '2-2, Rhodes reid' he happily whispered to himself. The final whistle blew and it was easy to forget that we still had a penalty shootout to win, but, after all that, it just felt right that we would. I wasn't that nervous. I honestly expected so little that a dramatic 2-2 draw was more than I could have dreamed to expect. But after Mills and Harrison had both picked their spots either side of Clarke's blast down the middle, the decisive moment came. Man of the match Esajas looked confident and assured as he calmly pushed it to Warrington's right, but the ball smacked the outside of the post and went out. 'It's alright, Rotherham won't score 5', a confident John Pearson chuffed in front of tons of listening Millers. But when Hudson sent Grant the wrong way, Pearson's brave declaration was beginning to look ambitious. And even though the Pigs scored their next 2 pens either side of Andy Todd (legend) doing the same, the Millers would win if the next taker scored. Who else but Reuben Reid? He slowly stepped up, in that arrogant, too-cool style we would go on to love (apart from the Broughton lovers, who would rather Reid spent all day chasing the keeper down then being offside when Nicholas kneed the ball back up field).
This was it. Right-footed, side footed, get in. The pigs poured out. That familiar feeling of seeing the Kop net ripple and knowing that the game was over was back again to haunt them. Those loveable rogues to our left graciously wrapped their Rotherham Owls flag up and trotted - pun most definitely intended - back to Herringthorpe. The night was ours. The pride was ours. It was reward for all those years of following Rotherham through crippling years, hoping against hope for some slab of nirvana like this. That the Millers faithful burst into an incredibly incorrect chant of 'You'll never beat the Millers' didn't matter. In fact, they were kind of right, because although the Pigs had in fact won at Millmoor (RIP spiritual home) just one year earlier, for many in Leppings Lane that night, they'd have never seen the Millers beaten at Hillsborough, even if they'd been the last 4 times. The greatest thing was, in the midst of a ghastly few years where we seemed to have undone all the brilliant work of Moore and co, we hadn't undone the legacy of conquering Hillsborough those famous years previous. That's what made it so special.
The attention had to turn to the league on Saturday, however, as the Millers went to Morecambe looking to abolish the disturbing memories of a 5-1 defeat six months earlier. Would it be a case of 'after the Lord Mayor's show'? Turned out it wasn't, as the new RUFC side continued to impress, taking another sizeable chunk out of their 17 point deduction with a 3-1 win at Christie Park. Mark Robins had used the post-Hillsborough euphoria to sneak in the signing of perennial donkey and hernia tolerant Drewe Broughton, who ambled up and down the sideline having been declared not good enough following his summer trial. Unfortunately, the game was overshadowed by the events surrounding pokermillerswinton in the minute's silence beforehand for Morecambe's recently deceased groundsman Ken Clarke. The poker player sniggered and giggled like a fat 12 year old throughout the silence, while some of deano's mob tried to join in. 'I was laughing at a pigeon, not the dead man', poker admitted later on, turning his actions from sickening to retarded. The events seemed to shake the Morecambe defence somewhat, meaning on 8 minutes Mark Lynch was given too much time to find the top corner, a well hit left footed swipe causing mediocre cheering in the terracing at the other end. And after a half of toiling and general League 2 stuff it was another goal a cut above this level that set the Millers on their way to a third consecutive(ish) victory.
A flowing move involving Reid and Hudson ended up at the feet of Taylor who with his first touch pushed the ball away from himself and with his second found the bottom corner. Was the forever promising but never fulfilling Taylor finally going to blossom? The answer, we were soon to discover, was a resounding no. The Millers dropped a bit deep and Morecambe pulled one back when Wainwright beat Green at the far post, making Warrington flap his arms like an angry grandpa who's finished his final pack of Werthers Original. It didn't matter though, Lynch was again shown inside in injury time and clipped another beauty to Roche's left. Sunny day, stood on the terracing, 3 points against crap inferior team: this is League 2 football, isn't it? The following Saturday saw the visit of a Chester side who already seemed doomed despite the comfort of 3 clubs over 10 points behind them. Their 6-0 tonking at Dagenham on the first day, added to their impending financial doom, meant there was no better opposition for a confidence-fuelled Rotherham team to meet, even though Mills and Taylor had to sit out ill. The bookies agreed - the Millers were as fancied to win as Blackburn at home to Premiership newcomers Hull.
Chester didn't fancy making things hard - Sharps bundled in the opener, Reid then doubled the advantage with a ricochet and the Millers were well on their way to another easy victory...until Harrison misjudged a header and Kevin Ellison, bald head shining in the sun, pulled the strugglers back into it. Ellison then pretended to be injured a lot (thank God he's not with us, bald prick) before Rotherham regained their advantage - a slick move involving a sublime touch by Reid finished off neatly by Alex Rhodes. By this going it would end about 8-3. It didn't. The rest of the game was played at a slower pace, less error prone and Rotherham cut the deficit to -8, despite the worrying amount of chances the visitors had to make things difficult in what should have been a more comprehensive victory, with Ellison skying a great chance and Ryan Lowe hitting the post with a free-kick. New signing Broughton was caught offside, but learnt from his mistake. Either way, things had started perfectly and one fan we spoke to truly believed a corner had been turned, 'My brother lives in Exeter'. Oh, and Blackburn only drew.
The reward for the epic win against Sheffield Wednesday was a not very mouth-watering tie with promotion hopefuls Wolves. It wasn't a full strength side, but with the likes of Andy Keogh, Stephen Ward and Michael Kightly in the 11 it was still a side expected to be able to see off lowly Rotherham. The game also saw the debut of another new signing, as former Liverpool youngster and sound buy Andy Nicholas started just a day after joining the club having been released by Swindon in the summer. The only information the RUFC fans had to go on was a small article on Wikipedia, which stated that Nicholas was 'fast' with 'a long throw'. Incredibly, neither of these turned out to be true. Nicholas is in fact slow and his throws usually get about 15 yards away from goal, bounce off Broughton's knee and go out for a goal kick.
Anyway, Nicholas was part of a Millers team and defence that showed the same bravery and resilience as at Hillsborough, and while chances were few and far between, either team could have taken the game in the 90 minutes. Harrison came closest for us with a rasping shot on half time, while Broughton had a guilt edged chance to be a hero when, on 90 minutes, the ball fell perfectly to him just a few yards out with most of the net gaping. Dreadfully, but not surprisingly, he squandered the gift by bungling his shot wide, and the ref blew for full time while hands were still clutching heads. You absolute donkey. Extra time followed a similar pattern to the first 90, but this time it was Wolves who had the chance to snatch it in the last minute. Iwelumo broke away and could have laid the ball across to Ward for a tap in or gone on his own, but instead he was indecisive and dwelt so much that he was smothered, and Rotherham breathed a sigh of relief as the chance to have another penalty face-off came about. But this time it looked like it wasn't to be as Jones smashed Wolves 1 up and then Mills tamely shot low at Ikeme. 'He keeps it on the f*cking floor when you don't want him to', we all thought. But the next pen would turn out to be crucial, as Foley rashly wasted the glorious chance of a 2 goal advantage by screwing his shot wide. Meaning when Harrison coolly slotted home, it was all back level again. Iwelumo and Hudson both scored before Stephen Elliott was denied by Warrington - the first of 9 penalties against him this season that he'd saved. Substitute Burchill found the top corner next and although Henry dispatched his, it was Reuben Reid's turn to again grab the limelight as he sent Ikeme the wrong way to send Rotherham into the 3rd round of the Carling Cup for the first time since 2003/2004 (Arsenal).
The final game of the month saw The Millers travel to Griffin Park for a battle with a Brentford side who had taken 6 points from a possible 9 going into the match. There was every cause to be confident and some of the predictions on the messageboard ventured as far as '3-0 rhodes reid rhodes' but generally the trend stuck at '2-0 rhodes reid'. In truth, the Rotherham team looked slightly tired, not surprising given we'd played about an hours worth more than most other teams in the country, including our opponents in London. I'd have used the term 'leggy' to describe the performance, but it's a word that's been used so frequently by one man between November and May that it has actually lost all meaning. Both defences dominated an uneventful game - Drewe Broughton shot wide having broken the offside trap early on then proceeded to dwell on the ball and get tackled after Reid had initiated a quick break, proving once and for all the old adage -'once a Kidderminster donkey, always a Kidderminster donkey'. Nathan Elder, a man who is now lying in a coma somewhere, missed the Bees' best chance with a header in the first half. 0-0 it finished after a game full of fouls, throw-ins and far too many Broughton 'touches'. As it turned out it would be a good result against a side who would scramble towards the League 2 title. At the time it seemed like a dire affair against a side who'd cleansheet their way somewhere into the top 9. Robins later blamed a boggy pitch for the hoofball his team played, but having seen approximately 50 games since, it's fair to say he was lying. Still, the point capped off a ridiculously good start, made even more incredible when you think our league status was still in relative doubt the day before Lincoln - 'goodnight my princess'. Earlier that day Rotherham found out that they would be facing Championship strugglers Southampton at ho...Sheffield in the Carling Cup 3rd round. Later that day, MillersMad used the word 'competitivity' in an article, and all lovers of the English language said their peace. September Mark Robins was rightly crowned the August Manager of the Month after guiding his side from 23rd to 22nd in League 2.
The first game of September saw a trip to rivals and general bogie team Chesterfield, and, in hand with the aforementioned award, inevitably all the talk in the build up to the game was of 'proving there's no such thing as a curse'. Needless to say, then, that we were shite and lost 1-0. Nobody is too good for a jinx, but Robins didn't help himself by starting the predictably crap Mark Burchill on the right wing and using the not-so-predictable-but-still-absolutely-crap Micky Cummins as some sort of second striker, despite the Irishman having no pace or movement or ability whatsoever. The rain poured down on the uncovered Millers fans and the mood wasn't lifted by a substandard first half performance. We were lucky to see Jamie Ward ruled offside when he thought he'd scored, and the best Millers chance fell to Reid but he skied it having been pressured by Downes. In the second half, Cummins completely fluffed a shot when half-decent contact would have put us ahead, but the former Darlington man kept his spirits up - 'ahhh well, mebbe anutter toime'. Ryan Taylor looked disinterested and more ugly than normal, leading to some personal abuse and jeers from the away end. Harsh but understandable. Robins later pleaded with the fans to not boo Taylor, but the manager could be rest assured that not all of the booing that day was directed at Taylor. The only thing worse than a player who can't be arsed is the man who allows the player who can't be arsed to stay on the pitch, right? Anyway, the game seemed to be heading for another dire 0-0 until in stoppage time, 48 year old Rob Page hoofed a ball up and full back Alan Goodall got between Mills and Lynch to loop home the winner.
The goal probably wouldn't have been scored if Fenton and/or Sharps hadn't been subbed injured, but that didn't distract from a totally abject performance in one of the only games at this level worth winning. Utterly disappointing. That performance was so bad that nobody was surprised to see a good-footballing Rochdale side come to Don Valley and take the lacklustre hosts apart. Dale's dominance was rewarded when on 41 Jordan Rhodes was on hand to mop up after an unfortunate Warrington had denied Will Buckley. The lead was deservedly doubled after the break when Buckley himself got on the scoresheet, waiting 'til Warrington was committed before finishing his one-on-one neatly.
Rotherham were beaten but for anything daft. However, daft comes in many forms and on 69, Lee Thorpe recklessly lunged at Sharps, and although Keith Hill later described Sharps as 'theatrical' in an interview translated by me, the red card was definitely warranted and the Millers had a lifeline. With just over 10 minutes left, Rory McArdle's back header looped into his own net and as Rotherham lumped balls forward and pressured, Rochdale's flimsy defence was cruelly breached. 96 minutes on the watch when Reuben Reid sliced across the ball superbly and watched as it flew into Russell's top left hand corner. Pleasing to see us take advantage of the extra man, but the desperate performance while it was 11vs11 surely left even the most optimistic fans ('I think we'll win the league') slightly concerned. The week got worse when on September 18th, MillersMad put an apostrophe in the word 'sees', causing a despairing shake of heads in the poddington household.
Next up was the imaginatively named 'administration derby', as -30 sufferers Luton came to Don Valley, and although they were still sat 14 points from safety, they came on the back of 2 straight wins against Aldershot and Exeter. The game followed a decisive interview from the gaffer in the week, where he had planted his iron fist firmly on Les Payne's desk and told the Advertiser that 'underperformers will be dropped'. Nicholas started. Yet again, though, it was a horrible game. The only memorable moment came when Rhodes floated a cross in on the hour. It was a shocker, given there was nobody in the box (I could go into details of why but haven't got time, but the words 'Hudson' and 'pie' would not be spared if I did care to explain). Incredibly, however, the ball seemed to pick up pace whilst airborne, and kept floating until it sailed over the back-peddling Brill and into the corner. To be fair to Rotherham, the quality of football picked up from there and a few moves were strung together - the vivacious Rhodes' blockbuster was saved by Brill and Reid was denied on the line. Luton did nothing, despite being backed by an impressive following. 'It doesn't matter how they go in!' Rhodes jovially commented after. Very true, but it does matter that they go in at all, and I'm afraid this was the last time that happened for Rhodes in an RUFC shirt.
Don Valley still seemed acceptable at this point. 4 years of this should just about be alright. What this game highlighted, for the first time, really, was a tendency to play percentage football until a lead was gained, then try and play a bit of football once comfortable. However, despite the worryingly drab periods of play in the last few games, the Millers went into the cup game against troubled Southampton on Tuesday with high hopes of a shock. But was this really a shock? That was the question posed by ITV in the three second clip it showed of the game on the highlights show afterwards. Rotherham were (despite the recent performances blip) flying in League 2 and Southampton were looking doomed in the Championship, meaning the 3-1 scoreline at DV probably didn't surprise too many. It surprised us though - surely beating two decent Championship teams then losing to a toss one is just how we do things? But this was a new Rotherham team, and for all it played questionable (meaning wank) football in a soulless athletics stadium, it had developed a winning mentality.
Before the game it was announced that Mark Lynch's shoulder injury would mean a first start of the season for Dale Tonge. Tonge had had a shaky, unconvincing first year and there were a few uneasy squirms when the team was announced, but the stereotypical Yorkshire lad went on to put in a man of the match performance, the first of many in a superb season for the 24 year old. Nick Fenton (I think) set the ball rolling 20 minutes in when his effort crossed the line from a corner, and the upset was well and truly looking on when shortly before the hour Danny Harrison proved he does exist and whipped in a 20 yarder on the spin. That this decent but nothing special strike went on to earn the 'goal of the season' award probably sums up the quality of our 73 goals. Just minutes later, Stern John hit probably the best goal at DV in the campaign with a long range scorcher - a moment of pure class from a talented player in a team littered with average ones. Nail biting time didn't last long, however, because 7 minutes later the chance of a godly comeback was all but up for the Saints when Reuben Reid's spirited work down the right hand side resulted in a tap in for Drewe Broughton, his first for the club. Even he couldn't miss that one. What the next 20 minutes highlighted, however, was DV's biggest flaw. Minutes away from another scalp, 4th round waiting, brave defending as The Championship side pressured - the tension should have been unbearable.
It would have been edge of seats stuff at Millmoor (RIP 100 year history). Instead, friends chatted and laughed with each other while they kept one eye on the action somewhere in the distance. You know, the action that was undeniably dramatic and that they'd paid 20 quid to see unfold. But nobody was quite fixated. That was weird.
It didn't detract from another wondrous result, though, and without blinking Rotherham were in the Carling Cup 4th round, with the prospect of a Premiership dream tie more realistic than ever... So what's the last thing you think of when you think of Premiership dream tie? Wigan at home? Maybe. But at least that might be winnable. Fulham away? Yeah, but at least it would be new for most of us. Hang on, hang on, what about a team who you played regularly just a few years ago, who's rise to success only underlines your emphatic failure? A team who's ground you personally visited at least twice in the last decade, and are actually so close to being a Championship side that they'll not be confident enough to play a reserve side, and will beat you 2-0 comfortably? No, don't be silly! Nobody fits that criteria! And even if there is such a team, the chances of us getting them are...Stoke City will play Rotherham United. For fucks sake. The draw was made the morning of the away trip to Dagenham, and the display turned out nearly as disappointing as the Cup draw as the Millers were punished for wasting glorious chances in the first half. The Daggers had made a superb start to the season and sat in 5th spot before kick off, but Rotherham should have put them to bed within 45 minutes at Victoria Road - Rhodes and Reid both came close, Broughton's effort was ruled out and Harrison missed a sitter when one on one with veteran Tony Roberts. But in front of a crowd of 1805 it was the home side who drew first blood - Paul Benson showed the Millers forward line how to do it with a thunderous hit just after the interval. The Daggers' defence were far sturdier from this point on and the only noticeable thing in the second half was just how bad Nicholas' ball control is. Being so close to the pitch highlighted this. Somehow, after a half of clueless lumping it and not a sniff of creative spark, substitute Burchill pounced on defensive hesitance and earned a point with a scrappy finish.
If only I was paid 8k a week to score from 5 yards. It was all worth the trip for the entertainment value at the final whistle, however, when punctuation embracer, black history scholar and well-respected MillersMad poster pokermillerswinton found himself all tangled up in the terracing and surrendered by flopping over on the steps. Priceless.
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