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Bristol City 1 (Donowa 87) Bristol Rovers 0. Tuesday 5th March 1991. 30 Year Anniversary.


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Tuesday 5th March 1991. 

Ashton Gate.

Bristol City vs Bristol Rovers. 

K.O 7.45 pm

Attendance. 22,227

Bristol City.  Leaning; Llewllyn; Scott; May; Bryant; Aizlewood; Shelton; Newman; Taylor; Morgan; Donowa.

Bristol Rovers. Parkin; Alexander; Twentyman; Clark; Mehew; Jones; Holloway; Reece; White; Saunders; Pounder. 

FULL MATCH. YOUTUBE The Bristol derby 1990-1991

HIGHLIGHTS. YOUTUBE  Classic: Bristol City 1-0 Bristol Rovers (March 5th 1991)

THE CONTEXT

This game had been postponed earlier in the season and rescheduled for a night game in March. The Rovers fans filled the away end of Ashton Gate full of confidence. "Will You Ever Beat The Gas?" they sang. "Will You Ever Beat The Gas?" It was a fair question. City had not beaten Rovers in the league for half a decade. City's last win was a 2-0 victory in March 1986. Rovers had gone 10 league games unbeaten against City (5 wins 5 draws). City had never won a league game at Rovers' non-league home they borrowed from Bath City, Twerton Park. And at Ashton Gate things were little better. In 1986/7, City battered Rovers, who had an outfield player in goal, but could not score, and Rovers nipped up the Open End to win it in the last minute with a Gary Smart screamer. In 1987/8 City were 3-2 up, but Ian Holloway equalised. In 1988/9, on the New Year's Day fixture, another screamer from Gary Penrice won it for Rovers 1-0. In 1989/90, despite having ten men for half the match after Ian Alexander was sent off, Rovers played out an effortless 0-0 draw.  The full sequence is this.

1. April 86 Rovers 1 City 1

2. Jan 87 City 0 Rovers 1

3. Apr 87 Rovers 0 City 0

4. Sep 87 City 3 Rovers 3

5. April 88 Rovers 1 City 0

6. Jan 89 City 0 Rovers 1 

7. March 89 Rovers 1 City 1

8. Sep 89 City 0 Rovers 0

9. May 1990 Rovers 3 City 0

10. Jan 1991 Rovers 3 City 2

But this was getting serious. This was game 11. City held the record for an unbeaten sequence in the Bristol derby. It was 11 games. This was Rovers' chance to equal that record. They only needed a draw, and had kept three clean sheets on their last four league visits to Ashton Gate. And then next season, with game 12 probably at the dreaded Twerton Park, they would surely break the record and have gloating rights forever. City had one last chance. They HAD to win game 11 and protect their own record. City's form was good. They were on a run of 5 wins out of 7, which would take them to fifth. With four teams going up from the second tier in 1990/91, and 7th getting you a play-off spot, City had a real chance of going up. They were competing with Joe Royle's Oldham, who had reached the League Cup Final and FA Cup semi-finals the previous year. They were competing with Ron Atkinson's Sheffield Wednesday, who had David Hirst and Trevor Francis up front, and who beat Man Utd to win the League Cup final as a second tier side in 1991, as well as promotion. Meanwhile ragbag Rovers were in lower mid-table, doing nothing. City needed to win for their play-off push. City needed to win to save their 11 game record. But City could not win a league game against Rovers, who had the hoodoo over them. What would happen?

Then the Rovers fans sang another song. It was like a knife to the heart of the City fans. "Championes, Championes, Ole Ole Ole!!!"  It referred back to the previous season. In 1989/90, City and Rovers occupied the top two places of the Third Division all season. City were managed by ex-Scotland international Joe Jordan, while Rovers, without a ground and without two pennies to rub together, were managed by ex-England international Gerry Francis. Both would go on to better things. City had been top all season. At times the lead over Rovers in second was 7 points. While City were bashing teams 5-0 and 6-1 with Bob Taylor hat-tricks flying in from 35 yards on the volley, Rovers were scraping 1-0 wins everywhere, with Gerry Francis making pious noises about getting enough points to avoid relegation. Taylor hit 27 league goals in a season he did not finish. No Rovers player managed 20. City won national fame by being first up on Match Of The Day in the FA Cup 4th round, when they effortlessly thrashed top division Chelsea 3-1 (Turner 2 Gavin). Rovers meanwhile went to Wembley in the LDV. It was a golden age of Bristol football. But everyone assumed City would finish first and Rovers second. With three games to go, City were first, four points clear.

Bristol City      P43 Pts 88

Bristol Rovers P43 Pts 84

City went away to Bolton, lost 1-0, and lost star striker Bob Taylor to injury. Now the gap was one point. Game 45 was Rovers vs City at Twerton Park. On a balmy May night Rovers thrashed City 3-0 to jump two points ahead of them. City tried to claw back the title with a 4-0 win against Walsall on the last day of the season, but Rovers won away 3-0 at Blackpool to steal the title off us.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1989–90_Football_League#Third_Division

They named a fanzine after the 3-0 defeat of City, The Second Of May. It remains the footballing highlight for an entire generation of Rovers fans. 

Meanwhile, an entire generation of City fans had grown up never having seen City beat Rovers in the league. And when you add in the fact that in the 5 years before that City had been relegated from Division 1 to Division 4 in three seasons and had nearly gone out of business, Rovers had had gloating rights over City for an entire decade. 

The trouble was, that Rovers team was actually a very good team. You had to respect them. They were managed by Francis, who went on to manage QPR, Spurs, and nearly got the England job. In goal was Nigel Martyn, scouted in Cornwall by the Rovers tea-lady, who was Britain's first million pound goalkeeper, and played for Palace, Leeds, Everton, and England. Centre-half Steve Yates played over 100 games in the Premier League for QPR. Midfielder Ian Holloway played in the Premier League. Dennis Bailey went on to score a hat-trick at Old Trafford. Carl Saunders went on to score a worldy at Anfield in front of the Kop. Monster centre-forward Devon White, a sort of lower-league John Fashanu, managed 7 Premier League goals in 19 games for QPR. Gary Penrice moved to Watford, Villa for a million, and QPR, where he scored 20 top-flight goals. When he left Rovers, City fanzine The Bountyhunter wrote him a farewell poem.

ODE TO PENRICE.

A constant thorn in City's side,

Each derby day you've mastered. 

But now you're off, you're on your way,

Cheerio you scrawny b#####d. 

As well as being good, that Rovers team killed us City fans by being lucky. Again and again the season before in the race for the Third Division title they had been 1-0 down with a minute to go, before scoring two goals in the last minute to win. They stole the title off us from nowhere. We could not beat them.

And they were not a lovable side, either. They were a dirty, ugly, horrible side. They played on a tiny cow-field at non-league Bath, wellied the ball up to 6 foot 4 Devon White, and fed off the scraps. Devon White himself specialised in fracturing the cheek socket of opposing centre halves using the point of his right elbow. Most professional footballers are not sent off three times in their entire career. Ian Alexander was sent off three times at Ashton Gate alone. In 1989, Alexander's two tackles on Dave Smith in one half at Ashton Gate nearly ended his career twice. Nowadays it would be two straight reds. Probably three. Then it was one yellow.

YOUTUBE Bristol City v Bristol Rovers, Ashton Gate, Sep 1989

They were also not a nice side to look at. A horrible outbreak of moustaches had swept through that Rovers team like cholera. Not nice moustaches. Bit fat chunky upper-lip square black slugs. Ian Alexander and Gary Penrice were suspected of being the ringleaders. Even decent sober men, like Nigel Martyn and Geoff Twentyman, who have been clean shaven for decades since, succumbed to the craze.

So to sum up, that Rovers side were good, lucky, dirty, horrible, always beat City, had the hoodoo over us, had stolen the title off us, never lost at Ashton Gate, and had now rocked up on a March evening at Ashton Gate to steal our eleven game derby record from us. 

This was it. City had to win. But not one City fan felt fully confident. At the back of our minds was a dreadful feeling that the curse would strike again. 

THE MINUTE'S SILENCE

Before the match started, the players lined up on the half way line for a minute's silence to mark the passing of City Chairman Des Williams. The referee blew his whistle and the minute started. After a few seconds some Rovers fans in the Away End started singing "Ole the Gas, Ole!!!" The City fans booed and shouted for them to be quiet. But the City fans then realised that they themselves were breaking the minute's silence, and hard though it was, they had to stay quiet and could not react. So silence descended, but it was an uneasy, tense silence. It was not what it was supposed to be, a peaceful time to honour and respect the deceased. There was anger and tension under the surface after what the Rovers fans had done. The minute continued.

After about forty seconds, a few people in the Rovers end starting shouting out a few things. The City fans were livid, but could not do anything. The final twenty seconds of the minute felt like an eternity. The City fans were seething with anger, and they were frightened that the Rovers fans would interrupt for a third time. The minute's silence had been completely ruined. Des Williams' family had been invited to the game and were standing by the side of the pitch. They were deeply upset, and had to hug and console each other during that minute. The seconds ticked on. It was supposed to be a peaceful testimony to humanity. It was agony. 

Eventually, after a hundred years, the referee blew the whistle to end the minute. Immediately every single City fan in the stadium wheeled round to the Away End and bellowed out with furious indignation at full volume

"YOU'RE JUST A BUNCH OF ****#ERS."

THE MATCH 

The match kicked off. The crowd were still furious, and channelled their wrath by roaring City forward. City were at home, were a good team who scored lots of goals, were going for promotion, and it was natural for them to attack. Rovers meanwhile, had a defence coached by an ex-England defender, and were not going to give way. It was attack versus defence. Could City break through? Bob Taylor fluffed a chance in the box. Nicky Morgan had a tap in at the far post, but was hustled out of it, and hit the woodwork. At half time it was 0-0.

The second half kicked off. Rovers were attacking the East End. City were attacking the Open End. During the summer City had signed right winger, Louie Donowa, for £50,000 from Ipswich, as a replacement for Mark Gavin, who had gone to Watford. They had also taken a £30,000 punt on a speedy maverick midget from Huddersfield called Junior Bent. aged 20. Donowa was the senior pro, but Bent, after scoring the winner away to Swindon where he ran half the length of the pitch, was keeping Donowa out of the side. And with new midfielder Andy May also filling in on the right of midfield, there was no room for Donowa. He had hardly had a chance. For this game though, left winger Dave Smith was injured, so Donowa got his chance on the left wing. He was desperate to win his place in the side, and was running around here, there, and everywhere trying to make an impression. 

City continued to dominate. Nicky Morgan, who was outstanding that season, hooked a volley towards the Rovers goal. In goal for Rovers was Brian Parkin, Nigel Martyn's replacement. He looked like a plastic Action-Man, and his game was completely ruined when the back-pass rule came in, but he was a good shot-stopper. But there was no stopping that one. He turned his back on Morgan and stood and watched as the ball dropped into the top right-hand corner, in front of the Rovers fans. Except it didn't. It hit the post, and bounced away to safety. Rovers continued to hold out. 

Meanwhile Donowa was not giving up. On his weaker left foot, he sent over a cross from the left wing. Flying in at the far post, Morgan sent a bullet header towards the top left corner. Again Parkin did not move. The ball flew past him, but skimmed the top of the crossbar and flew into the Open End, like a giant game of Ashton Gate pinball. Morgan had now hit the woodwork three times. City could not score. Time was running out.

Then disaster struck. 

On 74 minutes, the ball went back to City centre-half Mark Aizlewood, 30 yards out. He swivelled, and with the instep of his left foot just touched the ball back to the goalkeeper Andy Leaning on the volley. Effortless. Calm. Nonchalant. Imperious. Like Franco Baresi.

Except there was a problem. Mark Aizlewood was not Franco Baresi. He was a psychopathic Welsh centre-half from Leeds who was always getting sent off for stamping on people's heads. 

The ball travelled all of one yard.

Lurking behind Aizlewood was the monster from Twerton. 

Devon White bounded forward, picked up the ball, and advanced into the box one-on-one with the keeper for the clearest chance of the game.

Andy Leaning came out.

White went round him, jumped over him, and was caught on his back ankle.

He went stumbling and falling to the ground, all arms and legs, like the Eiffel Tower falling down, or like a giraffe running at high speed across the Serengeti Plains of Africa who is tap-tackled on the ankle by a mischievous baby rhino.  

The referee said penalty.

The East End were furious. It was under their nose, and they were convinced that he had dived.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" said the East End. "CHEAT.CHEAT.CHEAT.CHEAT.CHEAT" 

But the rest of us weren't arguing. Instead we were sitting in silence, with that sick feeling in our stomachs. We knew what was going to happen now, and had to watch it play out in front of our eyes. Rovers would tuck away the penalty. Then they would defend for a 1-0 win. Six points out of six against City for the season. They would equal our 11 game unbeaten run. Next season at Twerton they would make it 12. Meanwhile, back we would go to our offices, our schools, our businesses, our workplaces and our families. There the Rovers fans would be waiting for us. More gloating rights. No answer. No prospect of ever beating Rovers. We could not beat them at Twerton. And if we could not beat them at Ashton Gate when we were the better side, were higher in the league, had dominated the game, and had had all the chances, when could we beat them? Will we ever beat the Gas? And to give the game away like that with a catastrophic error leading to a penalty............................The curse had struck again. We were doomed forever. 

Ian Holloway put the ball on the spot, ran up, and hit it right footed bottom right.

But it was a poor penalty.

All Leaning had to do was go the right way and he would save it.

Leaning went the right way. 

Leaning saved it. 

Ashton Gate roared with joy, relief, and noise. The East End exploded into a riotous bomb of joyous arms and legs flying everywhere.  City were still alive. Leaning wellied the ball downfield, and the game continued. Now Ian Holloway is not a popular chap among City fans. Fair enough. But after the game he came out and stated publicly how ashamed he was to be a Rovers player when the Rovers fans were breaking the minute's silence. He did not have to do that. He was speaking out for City against Rovers, against his own fans, because he felt that that was right. Good for him. He deserves respect for that. He has two deaf daughters, and knows that there are more important things than football.  Could it be that he was not in the right frame of mind for that penalty? I am not saying he missed deliberately. But to put away a pressure penalty like that you need nerves of steel and fierce concentration, like in a tournament shoot-out. If at the back of his mind there were feelings of disgust towards his own club and he was not in the mood for football, perhaps that explains his casual, badly-struck penalty.

The ball continued to ping around in midfield. But the East End was not watching. It was still an exploding mass of celebrating humanity. It had been their penalty. Under their noses. They thought White had dived. They had seen Holloway miss right in front of them. A minute passed. Two minutes passed. Still the East End celebrated. Complete strangers, who by day were stockbrokers and accountants, clutched each other's arms and leapt wildly for joy, roaring and jumping endlessly.  The game carried on. Even the rest of the City fans had stopped celebrating the penalty and were watching the match. But the East End celebrated wildly, on and on and on. The static terrace had become a bouncing, jumping, living organism. Could it have been that they sensed something great was going to happen later that night?

THE END OF THE MATCH

But Rovers still held all the cards. There were 16 minutes left. 0-0 would do them fine. They were away from home. A draw gave them 11 unbeaten league derby games, an outstanding feat that equalled City's record and gave them a chance to enter the history books the next season by setting a new record. Earlier that season Rovers had beaten City 3-2 at Twerton. Rovers went 2-0 up, City pulled it back to 2-2, then Rovers got the winner. So it would be 4 points out of 6 for Rovers against City that season. Despite the missed penalty, they would still have full gloating rights. 

City desperately tried to find the winner, but the Rovers defence was solid. Manager Jimmy Lumsden sent on "The Chief" Wayne Allison to try and win something in the air. But it was a forlorn hope. City were out of ideas. Will we ever beat the Gas?

With three minutes to go Bryant launched a long ball down-field. Allison finally won us a header 30 yards out, but it just ran through to the Rovers defence. 

But Louie Donowa had not given up. Scampering off the left wing with enthusiasm, he nipped in front of the Rovers back four and picked up the ball. The Rovers defence were still goal-side, so he pushed the ball onto his favourite right foot and shot, low, from right to left. It was a feeble shot, and Parkin saved it. The crowd roared "OOOOOOOOOOOH" with disappointment. 

But the shot was so bad it was good. It bounced before it reached the keeper, and Parkin, instead of collecting it cleanly or pushing it in front of him, allowed the ball to skid off his body and loop slowly behind him towards the empty net. 

Donowa was onto it like a flash. He was already on the move, and had no difficulty outpacing the static Rovers defence. (Yes, that means YOU, Geoff Twentyman.)

He dodged the keeper lying on the ground, and got himself into position to force the ball over the line.

The Rovers fans, all 3000 of them packed together in the Away End, were so close to the action that they could have spat over the head of Donowa, but they were all chained up and there was nothing they could do.

Ashton Gate seemed to fall silent, and time stood still. 

In a moment of almost religious ecstasy, Donowa went down on his knees. 

The ball was now dropping out of the night sky like a balloon slowly sailing to the ground in some forgotten corner of a children's birthday party. 

It kissed the top of Donowa's head.

Springing off the ground like Superman taking off, Donowa hurled himself at the ball like a seventeen-year-old diving into bed with a supermodel. He flew over the line, both feet off the ground, pushing the ball with his head into the back of the net.

The referee pointed to the centre-spot. 

GOAL -Bristol City 1 (Donowa 87) Bristol Rovers 0

The City fans roared.

The Rovers fans stood motionless.

The City players piled into the net to celebrate.

And Donowa sat in the goalmouth smiling and exhausted, like a child sitting in the sandpit.

After this game Louie Donowa did nothing else for Bristol City. He was sold to Birmingham the following summer. But he will always be a Bristol City legend. Don't you attempt to buy your own drinks in the red half of Bristol, Mr Donowa. We'll take care of that. Lifetime offer. 

DEVON WHITE IS NOT FINISHED YET.

But the game was not won yet. Rovers kicked off, and poured forward in search of an equaliser. They had three minutes plus injury-time. Their tactic was the one they always used. Whack the ball up to 6ft 4 Devon White, win the header, and then feed off the scraps. City dropped everyone back, and started to defend with their lives. But the City fans were not watching the game. You cannot miss an opportunity like this. They were turned towards the Away End, and were singing "ONE-NIL, ONE-NIL, ONE-NIL!!!! ONE-NIL ONE-NIL ONE NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIL ONE-NIL, ONE-NIL ONE-NIL ONE NIL!!!!!" 

The aerial onslaught on City's box continued. City dragged back six-footers Rob Newman, Dave Rennie, and Wayne Allison to help out centre-backs Mark Aizlewood and Matt Bryant.  Martin Scott got another huge cheer from the City fans when he cleared the ball out of the penalty area onto the top of the Grandstand. To be honest, it would probably have cleared the Lansdown.

But now there was a problem. 

Rovers had a throw-in, level with the penalty area.

Their Welsh defender Vaughan Jones was a long-throw specialist.

And lurking in the six-yard box was Devon White. 

He seemed to have grown since the last time we had seen him, and was now about 9 foot 3.

It was simple, wasn't it? Jones would throw the ball onto Big Dev's head. And he would head it in.

Six City defenders were surrounding him, but it didn't matter. 

He could win a header against all of them without jumping. 

And possibly fracture the cheek-socket of one or two of them with his elbow after scoring the equaliser. Referees never used to mind about that. 

Ashton Gate fell silent again.

They knew that Devon White always scored against City.

Vaughan Jones ran up and launched a flat-trajectory nuclear-scud missile into the heart of the penalty area. 

Somehow City got it clear. 

Then the final whistle went.

Full Time Bristol City 1 (Donowa 87) Bristol Rovers 0

We all celebrated.

Were we celebrating because it was a thrilling last-minute victory in a night match against the Old Enemy? Yes, but that wasn't it.

Were we celebrating because it was natural justice for Rovers to lose after they had ruined the minute's silence? Yes, but that wasn't it.

Were we celebrating because with seconds to go, from nowhere we had saved our own 11 match derby sequence, and kept Rovers out of the record books? Yes, but that wasn't it.

Were we celebrating because we could now go back to our schools and offices with full gloating rights? Yes, but that wasn't it.

Were we celebrating because we had now beaten Rovers in the league for the first time for five years and ten matches, a victory all the sweeter because we had waited and suffered for it for so long? Yes, but that wasn't it.

Were we celebrating because this was 5 wins out of 7, a run that would take us to 5th with a real chance of promotion? Yes, but that wasn't it. 

We were celebrating because our luck had changed against Bristol RoversThey had been the ones to miss a penalty, and they had been the ones to gift us a cheap last-minute goal in the nick of time to save our record. It looked like Aizlewood had blown the match. Then it turned, and Holloway and Parkin blew the match. The hoodoo had been broken. The curse was over. And that curse has never come back to this day. In the thirty seasons since that game, Bristol City have finished higher in the league than Bristol Rovers twenty-seven times. 

The City fans started to file out of the top of the Dolman. At the start of the evening, the Bristol Rovers fans had asked them a question.

"Will You Ever Beat The Gas? Will You Ever Beat The Gas?"

 They say you should never answer a question with a question. But the Bristol City fans did it anyway. They saw the 3000 Rovers fans standing on the terrace, locked up, and completely still. So they sang back

"Will We Ever Beat The Gas? Will We Ever Beat The Gas?"

They gazed down through the Bristol night sky, waiting for an answer. 

Those Bristol Rovers fans had not been able to keep silent during a minute's memorial to mark the passing of a dead man ninety minutes earlier.

They were all silent now. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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5 hours ago, Boston Red said:

Tuesday 5th March 1991. 

Ashton Gate.

Bristol City vs Bristol Rovers. 

K.O 7.45 pm

Attendance. 22,227

Bristol City.  Leaning; Llewllyn; Scott; May; Bryant; Aizlewood; Shelton; Newman; Taylor; Morgan; Donowa.

Bristol Rovers. Parkin; Alexander; Twentyman; Clark; Mehew; Jones; Holloway; Reece; White; Saunders; Pounder. 

FULL MATCH. YOUTUBE The Bristol derby 1990-1991

HIGHLIGHTS. YOUTUBE  Classic: Bristol City 1-0 Bristol Rovers (March 5th 1991)

THE CONTEXT

This game had been postponed earlier in the season and rescheduled for a night game in March. The Rovers fans filled the away end of Ashton Gate full of confidence. "Will You Ever Beat The Gas?" they sang. "Will You Ever Beat The Gas?" It was a fair question. City had not beaten Rovers in the league for half a decade. City's last win was a 2-0 victory in March 1986. Rovers had gone 10 league games unbeaten against City (5 wins 5 draws). City had never won a league game at Rovers' non-league home they borrowed from Bath City, Twerton Park. And at Ashton Gate things were little better. In 1986/7, City battered Rovers, who had an outfield player in goal, but could not score, and Rovers nipped up the Open End to win it in the last minute with a Gary Smart screamer. In 1987/8 City were 3-2 up, but Ian Holloway equalised. In 1988/9, on the New Year's Day fixture, another screamer from Gary Penrice won it for Rovers 1-0. In 1989/90, despite having ten men for half the match after Ian Alexander was sent off, Rovers played out an effortless 0-0 draw.  The full sequence is this.

1. April 86 Rovers 1 City 1

2. Jan 87 City 0 Rovers 1

3. Apr 87 Rovers 0 City 0

4. Sep 87 City 3 Rovers 3

5. April 88 Rovers 1 City 0

6. Jan 89 City 0 Rovers 1 

7. March 89 Rovers 1 City 1

8. Sep 89 City 0 Rovers 0

9. May 1990 Rovers 3 City 0

10. Jan 1991 Rovers 3 City 2

But this was getting serious. This was game 11. City held the record for an unbeaten sequence in the Bristol derby. It was 11 games. This was Rovers' chance to equal that record. They only needed a draw, and had kept three clean sheets on their last four league visits to Ashton Gate. And then next season, with game 12 probably at the dreaded Twerton Park, they would surely break the record and have gloating rights forever. City had one last chance. They HAD to win game 11 and protect their own record. City's form was good. They were on a run of 5 wins out of 7, which would take them to fifth. With four teams going up from the second tier in 1990/91, and 7th getting you a play-off spot, City had a real chance of going up. They were competing with Joe Royle's Oldham, who had reached the League Cup Final and FA Cup semi-finals the previous year. They were competing with Ron Atkinson's Sheffield Wednesday, who had David Hirst and Trevor Francis up front, and who beat Man Utd to win the League Cup final as a second tier side in 1991, as well as promotion. Meanwhile ragbag Rovers were in lower mid-table, doing nothing. City needed to win for their play-off push. City needed to win to save their 11 game record. But City could not win a league game against Rovers, who had the hoodoo over them. What would happen?

Then the Rovers fans sang another song. It was like a knife to the heart of the City fans. "Championes, Championes, Ole Ole Ole!!!"  It referred back to the previous season. In 1989/90, City and Rovers occupied the top two places of the Third Division all season. City were managed by ex-Scotland international Joe Jordan, while Rovers, without a ground and without two pennies to rub together, were managed by ex-England international Gerry Francis. Both would go on to better things. City had been top all season. At times the lead over Rovers in second was 7 points. While City were bashing teams 5-0 and 6-1 with Bob Taylor hat-tricks flying in from 35 yards on the volley, Rovers were scraping 1-0 wins everywhere, with Gerry Francis making pious noises about getting enough points to avoid relegation. Taylor hit 27 league goals in a season he did not finish. No Rovers player managed 20. City won national fame by being first up on Match Of The Day in the FA Cup 4th round, when they effortlessly thrashed top division Chelsea 3-1 (Turner 2 Gavin). Rovers meanwhile went to Wembley in the LDV. It was a golden age of Bristol football. But everyone assumed City would finish first and Rovers second. With three games to go, City were first, four points clear.

Bristol City      P43 Pts 88

Bristol Rovers P43 Pts 84

City went away to Bolton, lost 1-0, and lost star striker Bob Taylor to injury. Now the gap was one point. Game 45 was Rovers vs City at Twerton Park. On a balmy May night Rovers thrashed City 3-0 to jump two points ahead of them. City tried to claw back the title with a 4-0 win against Walsall on the last day of the season, but Rovers won away 3-0 at Blackpool to steal the title off us.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1989–90_Football_League#Third_Division

They named a fanzine after the 3-0 defeat of City, The Second Of May. It remains the footballing highlight for an entire generation of Rovers fans. 

Meanwhile, an entire generation of City fans had grown up never having seen City beat Rovers in the league. And when you add in the fact that in the 5 years before that City had been relegated from Division 1 to Division 4 in three seasons and had nearly gone out of business, Rovers had had gloating rights over City for an entire decade. 

The trouble was, that Rovers team was actually a very good team. You had to respect them. They were managed by Francis, who went on to manage QPR, Spurs, and nearly got the England job. In goal was Nigel Martyn, scouted in Cornwall by the Rovers tea-lady, who was Britain's first million pound goalkeeper, and played for Palace, Leeds, Everton, and England. Centre-half Steve Yates played over 100 games in the Premier League for QPR. Midfielder Ian Holloway played in the Premier League. Dennis Bailey went on to score a hat-trick at Old Trafford. Carl Saunders went on to score a worldy at Anfield in front of the Kop. Monster centre-forward Devon White, a sort of lower-league John Fashanu, managed 7 Premier League goals in 19 games for QPR. Gary Penrice moved to Watford, Villa for a million, and QPR, where he scored 20 top-flight goals. When he left Rovers, City fanzine The Bountyhunter wrote him a farewell poem.

ODE TO PENRICE.

A constant thorn in City's side,

Each derby day you've mastered. 

But now you're off, you're on your way,

Cheerio you scrawny b#####d. 

As well as being good, that Rovers team killed us City fans by being lucky. Again and again the season before in the race for the Third Division title they had been 1-0 down with a minute to go, before scoring two goals in the last minute to win. They stole the title off us from nowhere. We could not beat them.

And they were not a lovable side, either. They were a dirty, ugly, horrible side. They played on a tiny cow-field at non-league Bath, wellied the ball up to 6 foot 4 Devon White, and fed off the scraps. Devon White himself specialised in fracturing the cheek socket of opposing centre halves using the point of his right elbow. Most professional footballers are not sent off three times in their entire career. Ian Alexander was sent off three times at Ashton Gate alone. In 1989, Alexander's two tackles on Dave Smith in one half at Ashton Gate nearly ended his career twice. Nowadays it would be two straight reds. Probably three. Then it was one yellow.

YOUTUBE Bristol City v Bristol Rovers, Ashton Gate, Sep 1989

They were also not a nice side to look at. A horrible outbreak of moustaches had swept through that Rovers team like cholera. Not nice moustaches. Bit fat chunky upper-lip square black slugs. Ian Alexander and Gary Penrice were suspected of being the ringleaders. Even decent sober men, like Nigel Martyn and Geoff Twentyman, who have been clean shaven for decades since, succumbed to the craze.

So to sum up, that Rovers side were good, lucky, dirty, horrible, always beat City, had the hoodoo over us, had stolen the title off us, never lost at Ashton Gate, and had now rocked up on a March evening at Ashton Gate to steal our eleven game derby record from us. 

This was it. City had to win. But not one City fan felt fully confident. At the back of our minds was a dreadful feeling that the curse would strike again. 

THE MINUTE'S SILENCE

Before the match started, the players lined up on the half way line for a minute's silence to mark the passing of City Chairman Des Williams. The referee blew his whistle and the minute started. After a few seconds some Rovers fans in the Away End started singing "Ole the Gas, Ole!!!" The City fans booed and shouted for them to be quiet. But the City fans then realised that they themselves were breaking the minute's silence, and hard though it was, they had to stay quiet and could not react. So silence descended, but it was an uneasy, tense silence. It was not what it was supposed to be, a peaceful time to honour and respect the deceased. There was anger and tension under the surface after what the Rovers fans had done. The minute continued.

After about forty seconds, a few people in the Rovers end starting shouting out a few things. The City fans were livid, but could not do anything. The final twenty seconds of the minute felt like an eternity. The City fans were seething with anger, and they were frightened that the Rovers fans would interrupt for a third time. The minute's silence had been completely ruined. Des Williams' family had been invited to the game and were standing by the side of the pitch. They were deeply upset, and had to hug and console each other during that minute. The seconds ticked on. It was supposed to be a peaceful testimony to humanity. It was agony. 

Eventually, after a hundred years, the referee blew the whistle to end the minute. Immediately every single City fan in the stadium wheeled round to the Away End and bellowed out with furious indignation at full volume

"YOU'RE JUST A BUNCH OF ****#ERS."

THE MATCH 

The match kicked off. The crowd were still furious, and channelled their wrath by roaring City forward. City were at home, were a good team who scored lots of goals, were going for promotion, and it was natural for them to attack. Rovers meanwhile, had a defence coached by an ex-England defender, and were not going to give way. It was attack versus defence. Could City break through? Bob Taylor fluffed a chance in the box. Nicky Morgan had a tap in at the far post, but was hustled out of it, and hit the woodwork. At half time it was 0-0.

The second half kicked off. Rovers were attacking the East End. City were attacking the Open End. During the summer City had signed right winger, Louie Donowa, for £50,000 from Ipswich, as a replacement for Mark Gavin, who had gone to Watford. They had also taken a £30,000 punt on a speedy maverick midget from Huddersfield called Junior Bent. aged 20. Donowa was the senior pro, but Bent, after scoring the winner away to Swindon where he ran half the length of the pitch, was keeping Donowa out of the side. And with new midfielder Andy May also filling in on the right of midfield, there was no room for Donowa. He had hardly had a chance. For this game though, left winger Dave Smith was injured, so Donowa got his chance on the left wing. He was desperate to win his place in the side, and was running around here, there, and everywhere trying to make an impression. 

City continued to dominate. Nicky Morgan, who was outstanding that season, hooked a volley towards the Rovers goal. In goal for Rovers was Brian Parkin, Nigel Martyn's replacement. He looked like a plastic Action-Man, and his game was completely ruined when the back-pass rule came in, but he was a good shot-stopper. But there was no stopping that one. He turned his back on Morgan and stood and watched as the ball dropped into the top right-hand corner, in front of the Rovers fans. Except it didn't. It hit the post, and bounced away to safety. Rovers continued to hold out. 

Meanwhile Donowa was not giving up. On his weaker left foot, he sent over a cross from the left wing. Flying in at the far post, Morgan sent a bullet header towards the top left corner. Again Parkin did not move. The ball flew past him, but skimmed the top of the crossbar and flew into the Open End, like a giant game of Ashton Gate pinball. Morgan had now hit the woodwork three times. City could not score. Time was running out.

Then disaster struck. 

On 74 minutes, the ball went back to City centre-half Mark Aizlewood, 30 yards out. He swivelled, and with the instep of his left foot just touched the ball back to the goalkeeper Andy Leaning on the volley. Effortless. Calm. Nonchalant. Imperious. Like Franco Baresi.

Except there was a problem. Mark Aizlewood was not Franco Baresi. He was a psychopathic Welsh centre-half from Leeds who was always getting sent off for stamping on people's heads. 

The ball travelled all of one yard.

Lurking behind Aizlewood was the monster from Twerton. 

Devon White bounded forward, picked up the ball, and advanced into the box one-on-one with the keeper for the clearest chance of the game.

Andy Leaning came out.

White went round him, jumped over him, and was caught on his back ankle.

He went stumbling and falling to the ground, all arms and legs, like the Eiffel Tower falling down, or like a giraffe running at high speed across the Serengeti Plains of Africa who is tap-tackled on the ankle by a mischievous baby rhino.  

The referee said penalty.

The East End were furious. It was under their nose, and they were convinced that he had dived.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" said the East End. "CHEAT.CHEAT.CHEAT.CHEAT.CHEAT" 

But the rest of us weren't arguing. Instead we were sitting in silence, with that sick feeling in our stomachs. We knew what was going to happen now, and had to watch it play out in front of our eyes. Rovers would tuck away the penalty. Then they would defend for a 1-0 win. Six points out of six against City for the season. They would equal our 11 game unbeaten run. Next season at Twerton they would make it 12. Meanwhile, back we would go to our offices, our schools, our businesses, our workplaces and our families. There the Rovers fans would be waiting for us. More gloating rights. No answer. No prospect of ever beating Rovers. We could not beat them at Twerton. And if we could not beat them at Ashton Gate when we were the better side, were higher in the league, had dominated the game, and had had all the chances, when could we beat them? Will we ever beat the Gas? And to give the game away like that with a catastrophic error leading to a penalty............................The curse had struck again. We were doomed forever. 

Ian Holloway put the ball on the spot, ran up, and hit it right footed bottom right.

But it was a poor penalty.

All Leaning had to do was go the right way and he would save it.

Leaning went the right way. 

Leaning saved it. 

Ashton Gate roared with joy, relief, and noise. The East End exploded into a riotous bomb of joyous arms and legs flying everywhere.  City were still alive. Leaning wellied the ball downfield, and the game continued. Now Ian Holloway is not a popular chap among City fans. Fair enough. But after the game he came out and stated publicly how ashamed he was to be a Rovers player when the Rovers fans were breaking the minute's silence. He did not have to do that. He was speaking out for City against Rovers, against his own fans, because he felt that that was right. Good for him. He deserves respect for that. He has two deaf daughters, and knows that there are more important things than football.  Could it be that he was not in the right frame of mind for that penalty? I am not saying he missed deliberately. But to put away a pressure penalty like that you need nerves of steel and fierce concentration, like in a tournament shoot-out. If at the back of his mind there were feelings of disgust towards his own club and he was not in the mood for football, perhaps that explains his casual, badly-struck penalty.

The ball continued to ping around in midfield. But the East End was not watching. It was still an exploding mass of celebrating humanity. It had been their penalty. Under their noses. They thought White had dived. They had seen Holloway miss right in front of them. A minute passed. Two minutes passed. Still the East End celebrated. Complete strangers, who by day were stockbrokers and accountants, clutched each other's arms and leapt wildly for joy, roaring and jumping endlessly.  The game carried on. Even the rest of the City fans had stopped celebrating the penalty and were watching the match. But the East End celebrated wildly, on and on and on. The static terrace had become a bouncing, jumping, living organism. Could it have been that they sensed something great was going to happen later that night?

THE END OF THE MATCH

But Rovers still held all the cards. There were 16 minutes left. 0-0 would do them fine. They were away from home. A draw gave them 11 unbeaten league derby games, an outstanding feat that equalled City's record and gave them a chance to enter the history books the next season by setting a new record. Earlier that season Rovers had beaten City 3-2 at Twerton. Rovers went 2-0 up, City pulled it back to 2-2, then Rovers got the winner. So it would be 4 points out of 6 for Rovers against City that season. Despite the missed penalty, they would still have full gloating rights. 

City desperately tried to find the winner, but the Rovers defence was solid. Manager Jimmy Lumsden sent on "The Chief" Wayne Allison to try and win something in the air. But it was a forlorn hope. City were out of ideas. Will we ever beat the Gas?

With three minutes to go Bryant launched a long ball down-field. Allison finally won us a header 30 yards out, but it just ran through to the Rovers defence. 

But Louie Donowa had not given up. Scampering off the left wing with enthusiasm, he nipped in front of the Rovers back four and picked up the ball. The Rovers defence were still goal-side, so he pushed the ball onto his favourite right foot and shot, low, from right to left. It was a feeble shot, and Parkin saved it. The crowd roared "OOOOOOOOOOOH" with disappointment. 

But the shot was so bad it was good. It bounced before it reached the keeper, and Parkin, instead of collecting it cleanly or pushing it in front of him, allowed the ball to skid off his body and loop slowly behind him towards the empty net. 

Donowa was onto it like a flash. He was already on the move, and had no difficulty outpacing the static Rovers defence. (Yes, that means YOU, Geoff Twentyman.)

He dodged the keeper lying on the ground, and got himself into position to force the ball over the line.

The Rovers fans, all 3000 of them packed together in the Away End, were so close to the action that they could have spat over the head of Donowa, but they were all chained up and there was nothing they could do.

Ashton Gate seemed to fall silent, and time stood still. 

In a moment of almost religious ecstasy, Donowa went down on his knees. 

The ball was now dropping out of the night sky like a balloon slowly sailing to the ground in some forgotten corner of a children's birthday party. 

It kissed the top of Donowa's head.

Springing off the ground like Superman taking off, Donowa hurled himself at the ball like a seventeen-year-old diving into bed with a supermodel. He flew over the line, both feet off the ground, pushing the ball with his head into the back of the net.

The referee pointed to the centre-spot. 

GOAL -Bristol City 1 (Donowa 87) Bristol Rovers 0

The City fans roared.

The Rovers fans stood motionless.

The City players piled into the net to celebrate.

And Donowa sat in the goalmouth smiling and exhausted, like a child sitting in the sandpit.

After this game Louie Donowa did nothing else for Bristol City. He was sold to Birmingham the following summer. But he will always be a Bristol City legend. Don't you attempt to buy your own drinks in the red half of Bristol, Mr Donowa. We'll take care of that. Lifetime offer. 

DEVON WHITE IS NOT FINISHED YET.

But the game was not won yet. Rovers kicked off, and poured forward in search of an equaliser. They had three minutes plus injury-time. Their tactic was the one they always used. Whack the ball up to 6ft 4 Devon White, win the header, and then feed off the scraps. City dropped everyone back, and started to defend with their lives. But the City fans were not watching the game. You cannot miss an opportunity like this. They were turned towards the Away End, and were singing "ONE-NIL, ONE-NIL, ONE-NIL!!!! ONE-NIL ONE-NIL ONE NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIL ONE-NIL, ONE-NIL ONE-NIL ONE NIL!!!!!" 

The aerial onslaught on City's box continued. City dragged back six-footers Rob Newman, Dave Rennie, and Wayne Allison to help out centre-backs Mark Aizlewood and Matt Bryant.  Martin Scott got another huge cheer from the City fans when he cleared the ball out of the penalty area onto the top of the Grandstand. To be honest, it would probably have cleared the Lansdown.

But now there was a problem. 

Rovers had a throw-in, level with the penalty area.

Their Welsh defender Vaughan Jones was a long-throw specialist.

And lurking in the six-yard box was Devon White. 

He seemed to have grown since the last time we had seen him, and was now about 9 foot 3.

It was simple, wasn't it? Jones would throw the ball onto Big Dev's head. And he would head it in.

Six City defenders were surrounding him, but it didn't matter. 

He could win a header against all of them without jumping. 

And possibly fracture the cheek-socket of one or two of them with his elbow after scoring the equaliser. Referees never used to mind about that. 

Ashton Gate fell silent again.

They knew that Devon White always scored against City.

Vaughan Jones ran up and launched a flat-trajectory nuclear-scud missile into the heart of the penalty area. 

Somehow City got it clear. 

Then the final whistle went.

Full Time Bristol City 1 (Donowa 87) Bristol Rovers 0

We all celebrated.

Were we celebrating because it was a thrilling last-minute victory in a night match against the Old Enemy? Yes, but that wasn't it.

Were we celebrating because it was natural justice for Rovers to lose after they had ruined the minute's silence? Yes, but that wasn't it.

Were we celebrating because with seconds to go, from nowhere we had saved our own 11 match derby sequence, and kept Rovers out of the record books? Yes, but that wasn't it.

Were we celebrating because we could now go back to our schools and offices with full gloating rights? Yes, but that wasn't it.

Were we celebrating because we had now beaten Rovers in the league for the first time for five years and ten matches, a victory all the sweeter because we had waited and suffered for it for so long? Yes, but that wasn't it.

Were we celebrating because this was 5 wins out of 7, a run that would take us to 5th with a real chance of promotion? Yes, but that wasn't it. 

We were celebrating because our luck had changed against Bristol RoversThey had been the ones to miss a penalty, and they had been the ones to gift us a cheap last-minute goal in the nick of time to save our record. It looked like Aizlewood had blown the match. Then it turned, and Holloway and Parkin blew the match. The hoodoo had been broken. The curse was over. And that curse has never come back to this day. In the thirty seasons since that game, Bristol City have finished higher in the league than Bristol Rovers twenty-seven times. 

The City fans started to file out of the top of the Dolman. At the start of the evening, the Bristol Rovers fans had asked them a question.

"Will You Ever Beat The Gas? Will You Ever Beat The Gas?"

 They say you should never answer a question with a question. But the Bristol City fans did it anyway. They saw the 3000 Rovers fans standing on the terrace, locked up, and completely still. So they sang back

"Will We Ever Beat The Gas? Will We Ever Beat The Gas?"

They gazed down through the Bristol night sky, waiting for an answer. 

Those Bristol Rovers fans had not been able to keep silent during a minute's memorial to mark the passing of a dead man ninety minutes earlier.

They were all silent now. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hilarious. Remember that match better than most this season!! :laugh:!

Gotta ask. Boston Lincs or Boston Mass?

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Sat in the dolman with me old man. I'm those days, he always wanted to walk down to the front of the dolman (that little standing area that was there) with 5 minutes to go. The original dolman shuffle. 

Was an 11 year old short arse at the time. That area at front of dolman was rammed. Me or me old man couldn't see a thing for those last 5 mins, except the goal city were defending. Thanks dad! When the place erupted for city's goal, dad asked the woman next to him who scored. The reply was "CITY!!" 

Guessed that answered that question! 

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Was just going out of the east end for a pee I needed to go we scored went back to celebrate , jumping up and down ,think I might have weed a little ,then ran  back to pee , in the smelly bog . Good all days

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The bit about Aizlewood not being Baresi made me laugh!!!

Can’t believe it’s 30 years. I remember that night so well. I was in the EE right behind the goal and when Hollowhead missed the penalty there was that feeling it was going to be our night. The atmosphere was fantastic, the City fans bolstered even more by what happened in the minute’s silence. As a 16 year old at the time I had never seen anything like it. That Rovers team was horrible and it was good to beat them after a barren few years. 

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6 minutes ago, GasDestroyer said:

Most on here won’t have a scooby doo how much hatred there was between the two clubs back then. Both teams hated each other. Bristol really was a war zone when it came to football and City v Rovers.

The pain at secondary school was horrendous, it just seemed never ending. This and the 4-2 win at Trumpton were the finest 'going to school the next day on top of the world' moments of school. 

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My favourite Derby win as broke to sequence of no wins. Made sweeter by the fact that most of keynsham at the time was Gas so had years of piss taking, cars outside house after games beeping horns to rub it in. What a night that was and revenge is sweet.

Most memorable part was hugging Aizlewood and him saying “calm down mate it’s only a game!!”   If only he knew and as others have said will always be the Gas as number 1 rival and frankly as I get older I dislike them more

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Absolutely my favourite bit of an amazing win was at the final whistle when Holloway went to shake Gary Shelton’s hand and he pushed him away.

Fair to say Shelts (who I loved) was absolutely pumped up that night, also Bob Taylor taking the opportunity after Louie had scored to run in front of the few and celebrate with a couple of very appropriate gestures. Biff Newman too celebrates the goal with a demented war cry.

Great players, a great night.

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Brilliant account by the OP, just missed out one joyous bit... prior to the Rovers penalty we had been loudly singing "Holloway, olloway, ollie, ollieway, when he gets the ball he does **** all, ollie, ollieway". Then they get the penalty and we think the words of that ditty were going to be shuffed down our throats, only for him to hit a poor pen easily saved and that ditty to be song lounder than ever for about 5 mins!

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And after all that those of us from London had the problem of getting back to Temple Meads for the last train (which I recall in those days was the 10:12.) With all the shenanigans that night the match had a late finish such I recall having to bust a gut to leg it to get the train (personal best by a long way, never again to be emulated.) I managed to hold the doors for a few stragglers, plus those enterprising types who'd 'hijacked' (more like hijinxed cars) along The Cut to speed them to TM.  Until Bath Spa the carriage resembled the London Marathon finishing line. By Chippenham the carriage was Studio 54 in full flow.

Heady days.....

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Was in the enclosure near the EE and after scoring it seemed like the whole ground was pointing at the Gas giving it the 1-0 chant. It was booming. All that pent up emotion of the previous failures against them just spilt out in that moment. A fantastic night, clear in the mind,will never forget it.

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1 hour ago, TomF said:

I love this, a good start for a Friday. 

Throwing in the brief YT clip with a good ol' bit of Roger included

 

Thanks Tom, what a great clip! One of my favourite nights for sure. The match was so important for both teams, it had everything and it went our way in the most dramatic fashion. All those years ago and still I find myself shouting "get in there!" watching it back. And oh, those bragging rights. Sweet ... 

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Its funny how the best football matches that stick in the mind the longest aren't always the finest performances or the biggest wins or the against the best opposition. 

Indeed there are other derby wins that I can hardly remember and I think I've been to every derby match in the last 45 years, I know, we've probably only played in 20 of those years. But what goes on before and the build up to a match can make a victory stick in the memory forever. This one certainly sticks in the memory.

I must admit, I wouldn't mind another derby or 2........or would I?

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15 minutes ago, ralphindevon said:

I must admit, I wouldn't mind another derby or 2........or would I?

It feels like we'd have everything to lose and nothing to win.  Just like last one, we were expected to beat them and we only just managed it so of course it's a moral victory for them.  

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1 minute ago, TomF said:

It feels like we'd have everything to lose and nothing to win.  Just like last one, we were expected to beat them and we only just managed it so of course it's a moral victory for them.  

Yes, right now wouldn’t be a good idea. I was thinking more if we somehow ended up in the same league back on level terms. But even then the pressure would be more on us, especially now our facilities are light years apart 

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