Dear WSC
How’s this for a delicious sense of irony? Brentford v Colchester United, Tuesday February 18, 2003. 1) On a freezing cold night when almost everyone wishes they’d stayed indoors, the Bees put in a dreadful first-half display and are roundly booed off the pitch. 2) In an effort to pla­cate the home fans, Brentford decide to play the D:Ream hit Things Can Only Get Better over the tannoy. 3) Immediately the song finishes, the club announ­ces the match has been abandoned at half time. If only the Bees’ strike force was as good as their comic timing.
Eddie Hutchinson, Ashford

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Tirol Innsbruck, a familiar name from the Champions League, has vanished from sight. They could be a long time coming back, as Roderick Stewart writes

The dramatic collapse of Tirol Innsbruck last year, from Champions League qualifiers to the third division, was probably the most extreme case yet of a club being punished for financial misdemeanours. Now, in a new guise, the club have started the long haul back.

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Before it's too late, Tom Davies records the relaxed conviviality of chatting in the quietest part of a quietish ground, pausing only for the odd barbed reference to the game in the background

Those who have campaigned for the retention or return of terracing at football have aimed their fire too narrowly. In highlighting the mystique of a terrace as a throbbing, heaving mass of partisan passion, they’ve missed what makes an awful lot of terraces – particularly a lot of those that still exist – special: their quiet, easy-going affability.

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No, you haven't picked up Roy of the Rovers by mistake. A kid on holiday has really signed for Mallorca after a scout saw him having a kick–about, as Neil White relates

Not since Steve Norman and Martin Kemp moved from Spandau Ballet to Melchester Rovers in the early 1980s has there been as unlikely a transfer as the one that took 18-year-old apprentice mechanic Jimmy Stevenson from Alloa Athletic to Real Mallorca.

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A former Leeds chairman, an FA Cup run, a mass walkout; football is the talk of the tea shops. Mark Douglas puts down his scone to tell the Harrogate story

When the time comes to draw up a list of history’s most defiant gestures, it is fair to say the mass walkout of Paul Marshall and his Harrogate Railway first-team squad in February 2003 won’t be muscling out Nikita Khruschev’s shoe-banging rage at the UN in the Cold War’s frostiest days. Given that the repentant players were back at the club’s Station View ground within a few days, it probably ranks with John Gummer feeding his daugh­ter a beef burger. Nevertheless, Mar­­shall’s anger, provoked by the offer of a “disrespectful” £200 bonus for the team’s stellar efforts in their historic FA Cup second-round defeat to Bristol City, does at least draw attention to the crossroads which Harrogate’s football clubs are at. After decades of struggle, Railway and higher-placed rivals Harrogate Town find themselves with the finance and impetus to make a mark on the football world, but a strong conservative streak threatens to undermine the recent success and banish them to football’s backwaters.

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