By Gregor Robertson, National League play-off winner turned journalist
I’ll be honest, my first taste of National League football was something of an eye-opener. After more than a decade of playing in the Football League, a day after I’d signed for Grimsby Town, in January 2015, I was on a team bus heading down to Eastleigh.
When we arrived at Ten Acres, on a freezing cold Tuesday night, we took a stroll out to look at the pitch. I remember, as I looked around at the cracked concrete terraces, the lacerated turf, a few of the lads commented on how good they thought the surface was. “Huh?” I thought to myself. “What are some of the others going to be like!”
The game was a battle, as were the trips to Dover, Barrow and Braintree that soon came around – very different tests than those I had experienced in the Football League. League Two, of course, certainly isn’t a pristine, manicured world, but still, the marked change in environment is undoubtedly one of the most chastening tests for those dropping into Non-League.
That is exactly what awaits my old club Chesterfield next season. Their demise from League One to the National League has been painful to watch. I honestly believe how clubs of their stature adapt to their new surroundings goes a long way to determining their success or failure. Many don’t, which is why so many have floundered and quickly realise that they may not yet have reached the nadir.
Calibre
In Martin Allen, though, Chesterfield have a manager who is well aware of what it takes to succeed there. Putting aside for a moment Mad Dog’s no-nonsense attitude, his sometime alternative methods, or those first-person straight-to-the-point press releases announcing the arrival or departure of players to supporters (which seem to have gone down a storm), the first few weeks of his Chesterfield tenure undoubtedly bodes well.
Very few clubs bounce back to League Two at the first attempt. When Cheltenham did so, in 2015/16, they did it with a backbone of players, signed by Gary Johnson, who knew the League very well – Harry Pell, Aaron Downes, Danny Wright, Daniel Parslow. In contrast, Leyton Orient and Hartlepool United, both of whom endured arduous debut campaigns in the National League last season, lacked those reliable, consistent performers and leaders at that level.
Allen has already begun to reshape his squad, many of whom have never played outside the 92. He quickly signed an experienced spine to his team that includes Shwan Jalal, Curtis Weston and Sam Wedgbury, all of whom have been promoted to League Two in the last three years. Will Evans is one of the most consistent central defenders in the fifth tier. And alongside him, Michael Nelson will bring vast experience, which will prove invaluable on and off the field.
During my time at Grimsby, the same was true. James McKeown, Shaun Pearson and Craig Disley were always the first names on the team sheet, because Paul Hurst, the manager, knew exactly what he would get from them. They were also the steadying force when players like myself arrived from a higher division, and on the cold winter nights in places such as Eastleigh.
Hurst assembled a tight group who all earned roughly the same money, which he saw as the best way to forge a strong team-spirit – an ethos that also served him well at Shrewsbury Town last season. Chesterfield, on the other hand, used more players – 41 – than any other League Two side last season. Allen has already stated his intention to slash numbers to about 18 first-team players.
After a chaotic two years at the Proact Stadium, Allen’s back-to basics approach feels timely. And in my experience, in the National League, it is also the most likely recipe for success.
World Cups will always stir emotion
I, like all football lovers, have gleaming memories of every World Cup since childhood seared into my mind. Crying down the side of the sofa aged six after Brazil sent Scotland home in 1990, Pavarotti’s Nessen Dorma stirring the pain, is probably my first. Ray Houghton’s goal for Ireland against Italy at USA 94 stands out as another.
But by the time France 98 came round, when I was 14, football was my world. So Scotland playing against Brazil in the opening game of the tournament sent excitement levels to a whole new stratosphere.
On the morning of the game the headmaster at my school in Edinburgh called an impromptu assembly. Under no circumstances, he told us, in the packed school hall, were any pupils to leave school early to watch the big game that afternoon. I’m sure you can guess how that worked out.
When the bell rang for lunch a few hours later the doors swung open to cue a mass exodus. A few hours of detention wasn’t going to stop me or hundreds of others see John Collins, Colin Hendry and Paul Lambert on the same pitch as Ronaldo, Rivaldo and Cafu!
We were valiant losers that day, of course, as has so often been the case. And although I have relished World Cups coming round every four years since, in truth they have all been dampened ever so slightly by the fact that Scotland weren’t there.
I’ll cheer on England this year, as I always have, and hope that this dynamic, youthful team flourish on the biggest stage.
But, just for the record, if they win it, I’m emigrating!
*This article originally featured in The @NonLeaguePaper which is available every Sunday and Monday
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