Harrogate Town opinion: Bradford City loss was undeserved, as was fans’ treatment by stewards

I’m hanging around outside the ticket office on Wetherby Road trying to buy a ticket for Harrogate Town versus Bradford City for my daughter at 10.40am on the morning of the match.

She’s left it until the last minute, of course, but tickets aren’t available online as advertised and the ticket line cut her off after she’d reached the front of the queue. “Try again,” I suggest, and she finds herself back in a queue of 11 people.

"I can’t be bothered,” she says and hangs up.

“I’ll pop down to the ground and get you a ticket,” I say.

So here I am, chatting to a fellow fan standing next to me outside the ticket office window.

He’s around 60, grey hair, Barbour jacket, piece of paper in his hand.

“Is this the ticket office?” he inquires. I reply in the affirmative.

He points to his piece of paper and continues… “I tried to buy a ticket online yesterday and it turned me down. Thing is, I’ve got a Bradford postcode, you see. I wouldn’t mind, but I’ve been here a number of times to watch them when they were in the Northern Premier League.”

“I’m sure they’ll sort you out,” I offer as some form of consolation, as I hand over Molly’s supporter number and my debit card to a nice member of the office staff. It turns out that tickets have been taken down from the website due to it being overwhelmed by ticketless Bradford fans, so it’s lucky we only live five minutes away.

Another member of staff emerges, the guy next to me gives them the same story he’s given me and hands over his piece of paper.

“You were turned down three times yesterday and I can’t change that decision,” is the seemingly harsh reply. The grey-haired bloke then plays his supposed trump card.

“I even travelled to Wembley to watch them beat Notts County in the play-Off final,” he declares, as the member of staff disappears back inside to double-check.

I bide my time, exchange a couple of pleasantries and then quietly ask, “How did you manage to get to Wembley to see Town?” I’m genuinely interested at this point.

“I went down in the car, like everyone else,” he replies.

“But none of us were able to go to Wembley, it was played behind closed doors as we were in lockdown at the time, so how did you manage to get in?”

Silence ensues.

“The member of staff re-emerges to save him from the silent assassin and it’s still firmly computer-says-no.

"I even travelled to Fylde to watch them in the semi-final,’ he protests, having dropped the Wembley line. I wonder whether I should point out that we beat Boreham Wood at home in the play-off semi-final, again in front of an empty stadium, and only travelled to Fylde in the quarter-final that year. The quarter-final of the FA Trophy.

It’s not that he’d cause any bother in the home end if he’s a Bradford fan, and I have every sympathy for a man just trying to watch his team, but the ticket office have his number and he’s not coming in.

I walk away, happy with my daughter’s ticket. I’m glad I bought it for her, as I only find out the match kicks off at the earlier time of 1pm when she informs me, at 12.20, whilst I’m taking her on a driving lesson.

She’s got her test on Monday and I’ve just suggested doing another half hour as we have plenty of time. Except we don’t.

"I was a bit surprised when you agreed to this so close to the match,” she says on the way home. “Put your foot down,” I reply, perhaps unwisely.

Although Bradford beat us for the first time in six attempts, it’s not really deserved. They start in a lively fashion and we eventually gift them a clumsy penalty, but they’re not as good a team as their fourth place in the table would suggest.

Town build up some decent possession and could easily be level at half-time if not for a wonder save from the visiting keeper and a couple of other missed chances.

When Jaheim Headley smashes us level just after the break, we can’t believe it. We’ve scored a goal at home.

Two rolls of paper, one black one yellow, fly through the air and onto the pitch in celebration. Molly jokes about how they’ve probably been burning a hole in someone’s pocket for weeks. It’s smiles all round.

Our keeper, Pete Jameson, ignores the rolls on the pitch next to him and it’s game on. The referee eventually comes over during a break in play and removes them with a smile on his face, to a backdrop of pantomime booing from the Kop.

This should be the part where we go on to roar Town onto victory, but the moment’s quickly lost as stewards over-step the mark, wading in to eject the paper-thrower and also trying to remove one of his friends.

How you can be frog-marched out of the ground for celebrating a goal in an entirely good-natured crowd is something that defeats me.

Later, they march past with two more long-standing supporters, a couple who watch Town home and away and are two of the nicest fans you could ever wish to meet.

We shout for the stewards to leave them all alone. Nonetheless, the atmosphere’s soured and Bradford eventually score against the general run of play.

With crucial games against Colchester and Hartlepool on the horizon, the question remains: is this as good as it gets, or can the players manage to secure some much-needed league points? Time will tell.