Always keep a grip on your hotdog…

It was going to be one of those days. It started badly outside Field Mill when walking to the away end past the club shop (more like a club shed if we're being honest), Mansfield's mascot came out of the door without warning, walking straight into me and making me drop my hot dog. 

"Sorry mate. Can't see a thing in this outfit", said the 6' tall Stag. I just watched in horror as my much anticipated processed pork sausage rolled away down the hill. 

It'd been a tough call to come to the game. With England playing  Turkey an hour after it finished everyone I normally meet up with to get suitably drunk pre-match had stayed away, preferring to settle in pubs at home to watch Captain Becks and the boys. Mansfield being local for me I simply couldn't miss it and sped down the M1 from Sheffield, smug in the knowledge that I could be back by 5.30 and still watch the game in the pub.

The hot dog incident should have been an omen and made me turn back. The last time I dropped a meat based product at the football we lost at Lincoln last year. I'm not overly superstitious, but that lost sausage roll at Sincill Bank cost us the play-offs.

Back to Mansfield and on the pitch we were a shambles. Luckily that was just the warm-up. A tramp seemed to be working out with the city lads but eventually I realised it was super Johnny Parkin – back in the fold with big beard, bedraggled hair, cut off tracksuit bottoms and hands firmly in pockets.

Once the lads had warmed-up (and the City faithful could stop ducking from Johnny P's venomous practice shots sailing into the away end) it was into the action. City started well for the first few minutes but things soon descended into chaos. Brassy went off concussed and Mansfield were obviously ‘quite good at football' so it was going to be a long afternoon.

Mansfield's counter-attacking was swift, their overlapping play was decisive and their strikers looked sharp. City hoofed it a lot. What's more we were hoofing it towards 5'3” Dean Crowe and seemed surprised when the 6' tall centre backs didn't let him have a go with the ball. Things just weren't working. There was regular chaos at the back as we gave too much room away. New loanee Dove looked quite sharp when he got the ball but those chances were few and far between. Even the ref tried to help us out by giving us everything but his endeavours were not enough. It was frustrating to watch. A well-worked Mitch Ward free kick was our best chance.

Mansfield's goal was no surprise and it was what their vociferous fans deserved (although it must be said they shout wildly and crazily at absolutely anything – there probably isn't much else to do in Mansfield). In the second half, things were little different. Another set-piece goal was conceded. Only the introduction of Parkin and some more outstanding reflex saves from the increasingly impressive Ovendale kept the interest. Mansfield will certainly be there or thereabouts come May – they're a cut above most sides in this division.

Not only was I totally depressed at the game, but by the time I got back to Sheffield, all the local boozers were full and had people queuing outside to watch the England match with no chance of getting in. I ended up having to do a Likely Lads and hide myself away at home with a bottle of wine or two until the highlights came on. This cunning plan was ruined 5 minutes before the highlights started by someone yelling "0-0 Engerrrland! But fair play to the very sporting Turkey side!" (or four letter words to kind of that effect) outside my flat.

A bad end to a bad away day. The morals of this story are clear. Never watch City sober and always, but always keep a firm grip on your hotdog.