Lashings of rain beat down on the Memorial Stadium for a game of football which could have come straight out of a kitchen-sink drama. Domestic sport does not get any more dramatic than this brilliant encounter. With a minute to go, the atrocious weather looked set to be nothing more than pathetic fallacy and a tormentor of we humble supporters. That is, until a last minute winner sent the soaked anoraks of devoted disciples into a frenzy of commotion. Bristol Rovers, that perennial outfit of misfits and hoofers, had actually managed to claim a crucial victory. Barnet will still win the league at a canter but, by God, these lads pulled the rug from under their feet with relish.
Few fans were perturbed by the cold when Rovers made a rip-roaring start that saw the home side take the early advantage against the runaway Conference leaders. Barnet's defenders were all at sea when a slick pass through to Matty Taylor saw him crash the ball under the away 'keepers flaying legs.For the rest of the half, the Gas dominated the Bees with miraculously flowing football, despite the monsoon conditions. It was the most enjoyment I have had at a match in years. There was a real "oof" to the atmosphere and for once the players in blue and white did not disappoint. But by half time the weather worsened and a series of controversial incidents looked to overshadow a rollicking 45 minutes of fierce competition.
When a Rovers corner came sweeping into the box, a looped shot sent one of the Barnet defenders sprawling back towards his goal line. A desperate swivel of the body diverted the ball away from the net. Was it by head or hand? Referee said yay to a penalty, while his linesman - to the home support's apoplexy - said nay. The assistant won the argument and play resumed without the obligatory spot-kick and sending off. On first witnessing it, my instinct said head. But the more I think about the way the defender's arm waved in front of his face, I have to question my reasoning. Either it was a blatant act of cheating or the greatest defensive header I have ever seen. Without a television replay, who can know for sure? Certainly not a guy with rain-smeared spectacles and a notorious lack of awareness.
Before the break Barnet reaped the rewards of their fortune. A free-kick from twenty yards was comfortably stroked into the bottom corner, with the Pirates' goalie Steve Mildenhall relegated to the role of a helpless observer.
At that stage there was no escape from the downpour. Those of us in the East terrace were drowning under the deluge, so much so that by the ninetieth minute fans around me were hoping to skip the necessary injury time and get home that extra few minutes earlier. By the end they were all glad they stayed. Another corner fell into a blundering melee in the Barnet box. Somehow - and I really am clueless as to how it happened - the ball crossed the line. Damp celebrations ensued before the final whistle blew moments later.
Of course, by then the game's early promise had totally disappeared, the second half being an ugly scrap where neither side looked bothered to run into the heavy rainfall. All I wanted to do was find the nearest towel and burrow deep into its soft lining. Alas, the almighty, in his incomprehensible wisdom, continued to urinate on his flock. At least, that is what I think causes rain.
It was a night of amazing triumph for this motley Rovers team. Perhaps this will inspire them to future success. In new addition Nathan Blissett, they at least have a striker who could work in tandem with Taylor, running at the opposition with pace and power. For them it was a great three points, and for me, the start of a terrible cold. Oh well.
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