Gothic horror

Harrogate (A) - EFL League 2 - 19th August 2025

Photo: Ian Allington

'See a place and a dream of the dead days, following lost and blind'

Sisters of Mercy

Cursed Harrogate. I've seen you before many times. The overcast sky seemed to offer dark portents and I felt the likely disaster that a trip would normally bring close around me. Utterly at odds with Saturday's optimism but you know, Harrogate. 

We squeezed onto the Trust bus. For those of you who survived the privations of the 80-seater to Chesterfield, this was a lot better.

Drivers exchanged and the new fella immediately plunged down the M6 as unexpectedly worrying as a Phil Bolland duck. Where in the name of Cowps were we going? 'It'll be his satnav' said a neighbour sagely. If so, the satnav appeared to have an aunt in Clitheroe. 

I settled down to listen to The Mission. It looked like it was going to be one. Still I know where Whalley is now. I always thought Annabel Tiffin had made it up.

We wandered into the hills as I moved on to Skinny Puppy. A viaduct brought brief interest to the engineering fraternity. Where the fuck is Sabden? It sounds like a festival where pentagons and patchouli are de rigueur. 

Finally, we squeezed our way onto Knaresborough's picture postcard streets. Great beer and good company in a blowy beer garden. Subjects covered: randy dogs, Moretti costs, landmark graffiti, girlfriends who were psychic, how to create a cult and Arthur Daley in Minder. 

Any pub afterglow was, as usual, extinguished by a quintessential Harrogate welcome. A disabled fan was initially refused entry although he was perfectly capable of taking his seat with the away fans. This was resolved as Harrogate grudgingly remembered the 2010 Equality Act. We were ready to begin, as blue-coated stewards and police stood ready to punish any minor infraction. 

The teams began with a dangerous-looking Harrogate unleashing a couple of raspers. We responded with a couple of unconvincing corners. 

We were tentative and struggling for any sort of cohesion as the Harrogate front two charged into spaces that we didn't want to enter. 

Tentative became terrible. A frankly pathetic loss of the ball in midfield led to the fleet-footed McCluskey charging free and slotting home.

We were utterly unconvincing in response. An outpaced defence, confused and profligate midfield and strikers starved of opportunity.

Andy Whing looked incandescent as he stalked towards the dressing room at half-time. And no wonder...we had been second to absolutely everything.

Improvement was clearly required and we returned to find the anonymous Earing and flaky Shipley benched. 

We clearly had received a rocket and were much better, but from a baseline so low it was still unconvincing. However, we started to win some of the angry flurries that characterise League 2. 

The away support found voice, partly with the improvement and partly through the traditional shithousery from the Harrogate bench. Weaver his usual weaselly self and his greying, bone-headed sidekick manipulating the officials.

But the front two were still running us ragged and their defence was rock solid. Still, only one-nil. You always get a chance.

And we duly did. Tyler Walker conjuring an awful miss from a cutback as he spooned the ball skywards.

We made more substitutions and tried to go a bit more direct. They brought on our old nemesis Muldoon. Sam Foley looked like he would be out a while when withdrawn.

Rhys Healey offered a stark metaphor for his career and lasted 5 minutes. Thus we were down to 10. Kerr, early days but controlling the ball is pretty important.

And that was that. Through gritted teeth, a word for a very well-drilled Harrogate. They outworked, outfought and outthought us. Front and back if they keep form and fitness they could go well. 

As we waited, under the blue-coated stares in the gathering darkness for the bus we reflected. To work for quality in squad size over quantity in order to financially compete is entirely reasonable. However, we've then stretched further to players who are only in our orbit because of their injury record. Big gamble.

I settled back as the haunting gloom closed around us. Siouxsie and the Banshees reverberated around me as we took another circuitous route home through the darkness via Lancaster. 

Fourteen players fit and Colchester away Saturday. Life in League Two. 'Following the footsteps of a rag doll dance'. But far from entranced.

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