Introduction
Scarborough Athletic | Vanarama National League North
October had left Scarborough Athletic riding a wave that nobody—not even the most optimistic regular down at the Tavern—could quite believe.
Five league victories on the bounce had transformed the mood around the club. The Seadogs sat proudly at the top of the Vanarama National League North, confidence was flowing through the dressing room, and for the first time this season people had started whispering a dangerous word.
“Promotion.”
Of course, Football Manager has a strict policy regarding optimism.
The moment you begin believing things are finally under control, it quietly starts preparing a hamstring injury, a suspension, three defensive errors and a goalkeeper with an unhealthy interest in local wildlife.
Before the Football Manager gods could begin their inevitable mischief, however, there was time to celebrate.
November began with the league handing out its monthly awards, and Scarborough Athletic rather shamelessly helped themselves to most of them.
Lewis Maloney deservedly collected the Vanarama National League North Player of the Month award after another magnificent run of performances. Even more remarkably, the podium resembled an internal club meeting rather than a league-wide competition, with Kieran Weledji finishing second and Alex Brown third.
Not bad for a club that had spent most of pre-season desperately trying to remember how defending worked.
As if that wasn’t enough, Mr P somehow wandered away clutching the Manager of the Month award.
Scarborough Athletic would once again like to state that absolutely no money changed hands prior to the voting.
The club has also requested that everyone immediately stop asking awkward questions.
With the celebrations complete, reality soon came crashing back through the Tavern door.
November looked absolutely brutal.
Eight matches in thirty days.
An FA Cup campaign that had suddenly become very interesting.
The beginning of the FA Trophy.
A squad already showing signs of fatigue.
And a defence held together with little more than optimism and sticky tape.
The fixture list wasn’t frightening.
It was downright offensive.
Operation: Find Somebody Who Can Defend
With games arriving every few days, it quickly became obvious that reinforcements were desperately needed.
Especially at the back.
The loan market was dusted off once again and scouts were dispatched in search of central defenders.
Truth be told, our recruitment criteria had become refreshingly uncomplicated.
We weren’t asking for international experience.
We weren’t asking for leadership qualities.
At this point we’d have settled for someone capable of standing between the opposition striker and our goal for more than thirty consecutive seconds.
Official Scarborough Athletic Recruitment Notice
The official Scarborough Athletic Defender Recruitment Advert.
One unfortunate soul rejected the opportunity almost immediately.
Clearly he’d never experienced the delights of fish and chips on the Yorkshire coast, nor the privilege of watching Mr P slowly age twenty years every time the opposition earned a corner.
His loss.
Our search continued.
FA Cup First Round
Scarborough Athletic 2–1 Exeter City
There are few competitions capable of making perfectly sensible football supporters believe in impossible things.
The FA Cup is one of them.
For ninety minutes, league positions become irrelevant.
Budgets don’t matter.
Reputations are forgotten.
Tiny clubs begin believing they can conquer giants.
Three divisions separated Scarborough Athletic and League One Exeter City.
On paper, it was a mismatch.
Football, thankfully, isn’t played on paper.
It is played on muddy pitches, in front of supporters clutching hot pies and lukewarm tea, all quietly wondering whether today might just become one of those afternoons people still talk about years later.
The answer arrived after just five minutes.
Will Thornton rose highest from a corner and thundered a header into the net.
Pandemonium.
Scarves flew into the November sky.
The East Coast erupted.
Somewhere behind the goal, a steward briefly forgot he was supposed to remain professional.
Far from sitting back, Scarborough sensed an opportunity.
Every tackle was greeted like a goal.
Every interception brought another roar from the crowd.
Every successful pass seemed to fuel the impossible belief that something extraordinary was unfolding.
When Alex Green drilled home a second before half-time, the Flamingo Land Stadium collectively lost its mind.
Supporters immediately descended upon the burger van and refreshment kiosk with the sort of confidence normally reserved for people who hadn’t spent years watching non-league football.
After all…
What could possibly go wrong?
Football Manager, naturally, had several suggestions.
Exeter emerged for the second half looking every inch the League One side.
The visitors thought they had pulled one back almost immediately, only for the assistant referee’s flag to rescue thousands of Scarborough hearts from spontaneous failure.
It proved only a temporary reprieve.
Harris unleashed an unstoppable strike just before the hour mark to halve the deficit, and suddenly the atmosphere changed.
The swagger disappeared.
The clock slowed to an almost painful crawl.
Every clearance was cheered.
Every tackle felt season-defining.
Every hopeful cross into our penalty area aged Mr P by approximately three years.
Then came the emotional rollercoaster.
Rutledge thought he’d sealed one of the greatest victories in recent club history.
Offside.
Deep into stoppage time…
He thought he’d done it again.
Offside.
At this point I’m fairly convinced the assistant referee simply enjoyed disappointing people.
Eventually…
Mercifully…
The whistle blew.
Players collapsed to the turf.
Supporters celebrated as though Scarborough had lifted the trophy itself.
The Seadogs had produced one of the shocks of the First Round and written another unforgettable chapter in this extraordinary season.
Even more astonishingly…
Mr P somehow managed to deliver a calm, respectful and measured post-match interview.
Miracles, it seems, really do happen in the FA Cup.
A club-record attendance had witnessed the giant-killing.
The reward?
League Two Gillingham away.
Another club from higher up the football pyramid.
Another opportunity to dream.
Chaos, Comebacks and Controlled Panic
If the FA Cup had reminded everyone why football is capable of producing magic, the league quickly returned us to reality.
No fairy tales.
No television cameras.
Just another cold afternoon in the National League North, where every team seemed determined to make life as awkward as humanly possible.
Our unbeaten run was growing.
Our injury list was growing.
Unfortunately, our defensive confidence wasn’t.
Scarborough Athletic 1–1 Chorley
If Exeter had been one of those afternoons you’ll remember for years, Chorley was the sort of game that reminds you exactly why promotion races are never straightforward.
The visitors struck first after just nine minutes, Sampson powering home a header before many supporters had even finished complaining about the weather.
The Flamingo Land Stadium fell quiet.
Not because anyone panicked…
More because everyone had seen this film before.
Thankfully, Lewis Maloney had too.
Sixteen minutes in, Scarborough were awarded a penalty.
There was never any debate over who would take it.
There was never any doubt over the outcome either.
One composed run-up.
One emphatic finish.
One hundred percent certainty.
If Lewis Maloney was ever asked to take a penalty with the fate of humanity hanging in the balance, I’d be perfectly happy handing him the ball.
What followed was… unusual.
For perhaps the first time all season, Scarborough looked second best.
Chorley controlled possession.
They won the midfield battle.
They created the better chances.
Meanwhile, our defence—which has often resembled a group of strangers accidentally waiting at the same bus stop—somehow produced one of its best performances of the campaign.
Sometimes through excellent defending.
Sometimes through sheer determination.
Sometimes because Chorley appeared equally surprised to find themselves in such good positions.
By full-time, the point felt rather fortunate.
Promotion-winning teams often need afternoons like these.
Not pretty.
Not convincing.
Just enough.
Alfreton Town 2–3 Scarborough Athletic
Football Manager occasionally creates matches that feel less like football and more like an emergency services training exercise.
This…
…was one of those afternoons.
Lewis Maloney needed barely sixty seconds to convert another penalty.
At this point we’re beginning to assume opposition defenders are simply tackling people inside the box because they know he’ll score anyway.
Scarborough settled quickly.
Everything appeared under control.
Naturally, Football Manager took exception to that.
Ross Whitley suddenly signalled that he couldn’t continue.
Nobody seemed entirely sure what had happened.
There hadn’t been a collision.
There hadn’t been a spectacular save.
He’d simply broken himself.
Unfortunately, we’d forgotten one tiny detail.
There wasn’t a goalkeeper on the bench.
The substitutes all looked around in the universal footballing tradition of pretending somebody else’s name would be called.
Eventually…
Dom Tear lost.
Congratulations, Dom.
You’re a goalkeeper now.
To his enormous credit, he embraced the role with considerably more enthusiasm than most outfield players would manage.
Half-time arrived without further disaster.
Which, considering the circumstances, felt like a minor miracle.
When Kieran Weledji powered home Corrigan’s pinpoint cross shortly after the restart, everyone inside the away end breathed a little easier.
For approximately sixty seconds.
Alfreton immediately pulled one back.
Comfort officially cancelled.
Scarborough responded magnificently.
A flowing move involving crisp one-touch football carved open the hosts before substitute Luca Colville applied the finishing touch.
It was genuinely beautiful.
The sort of goal that would have pundits waxing lyrical if it had been scored in the Premier League.
Naturally…
We immediately made life difficult again.
Another corner.
Another goal conceded.
Another frantic finale.
Then…
The ninety-fourth minute.
Direct free-kick.
Dom Tear stood rooted to the spot.
The ball sailed past him…
…and crashed against the crossbar.
For a split second, the entire away end forgot how to breathe.
Then came the whistle.
Three points.
Five points clear at the top.
One game in hand.
Absolutely routine.
The medical report afterwards finally revealed the mystery surrounding Ross Whitley’s injury.
Apparently he’d torn the ligaments in his wrist whilst investigating local wildlife inside the penalty area.
The club’s medical staff remain baffled.
The local wildlife has declined to comment.
Official Club Medical Bulletin
Patient: Ross Whitley
Diagnosis: Torn wrist ligaments.
Estimated recovery: Five to six weeks.
Cause: Ongoing wildlife investigations.
Recommendation: Binoculars should not be taken onto the pitch.
The footballing gods weren’t quite finished either.
The FA Trophy draw arrived.
Home tie.
Welwyn Garden City.
We’ll happily accept that.
The fixture list, however…
Less enthusiastic.
Warrington Town 2–2 Scarborough Athletic
By the time the team coach rolled into Warrington, the squad looked as though it had survived a medieval campaign.
Two players injured.
Two defenders suspended.
Several desperately needing a rest.
Lewis Maloney himself was named among the substitutes.
A sentence capable of making every Scarborough supporter instinctively nervous.
Things deteriorated rapidly.
Some wonderfully charitable defending allowed Warrington to take the lead.
Then replacement goalkeeper Cracknell produced a moment he’ll probably spend several weeks attempting to erase from memory.
A tame header.
Comfortably catchable.
Instead…
It slipped through his grasp as though his gloves had been generously coated in butter.
Two-nil.
Half-time.
The unbeaten run appeared to be ending.
If you’ve ever wondered what a disappointed Mr P sounds like inside a dressing room…
I’m reliably informed the paint is still peeling from the walls.
Maloney returned.
Mackreth returned.
Scarborough returned.
The second half belonged entirely to the Seadogs.
Lewis Maloney inevitably reduced the deficit because, quite frankly, that’s simply what Lewis Maloney does nowadays.
Wave after wave of attacks followed.
The equaliser refused to come.
Ninety minutes approached.
The unbeaten run slipped further towards the horizon.
Then…
Deep into stoppage time…
Harry Green.
The Little Green Man.
A goalmouth scramble.
One decisive touch.
Pandemonium.
The travelling supporters celebrated as though we’d just secured promotion.
The statistics suggested Scarborough probably deserved all three points.
The scoreline suggested otherwise.
Yet, considering we’d stared defeat squarely in the face for an hour…
It somehow felt like another victory.
Halfway Through November
Looking back over the opening weeks, a pattern had started emerging.
The clean sheets were disappearing.
The injuries were mounting.
The fixture list showed absolutely no mercy.
And yet…
Scarborough Athletic simply refused to lose.
The unbeaten run was no longer becoming a pleasant surprise.
It was becoming a test.
Not just of quality.
But of character.
Every week seemed to demand another comeback.
Another last-minute goal.
Another escape.
The question was no longer whether this team could play football.
The question was…
How much longer could they keep defying the odds?
Holding On, Hanging On and Somehow Still Standing
By the halfway point of November, Scarborough Athletic looked like a football club running almost entirely on momentum.
The fixture list had become relentless.
The squad was running on fumes.
Every match seemed to begin with conceding an early goal.
Our defenders appeared increasingly fascinated by the local wildlife.
And yet…
Nobody had actually managed to beat us.
The unbeaten run rolled on.
Almost through sheer stubbornness.
FA Trophy Second Round
Scarborough Athletic 7–0 Welwyn Garden City
Sometimes football is complicated.
Sometimes football is beautifully simple.
This…
…was one of those simple afternoons.
Six minutes.
Dom Tear.
One-nil.
Job started.
A few minutes later Rahim Atkinson announced himself with his first goal for the club.
Two-nil.
Before anyone had fully processed that, Will Thornton decided to unleash something usually reserved for Match of the Day compilations, crashing a magnificent strike home from the edge of the area.
Three-nil after twelve minutes.
At this point, even the burger van staff were beginning to relax.
Dom Tear added another.
Purver curled in from distance with the sort of finish that made everyone politely ignore the goalkeeper’s rather generous contribution.
Jake Charles completed a scarcely believable first-half demolition.
Six.
Nil.
Half-time.
The second half became little more than damage limitation for our unfortunate visitors.
To their credit, Welwyn Garden City emerged with renewed determination.
Harry Green immediately ruined that idea.
His seventh goal ensured the afternoon ended exactly as it had begun.
Scarborough attacking.
Scarborough smiling.
Scarborough wondering where this version of the team had been hiding every time we defended corners.
Seven goals.
No drama.
No panic.
Frankly, it all felt rather suspicious.
Better still…
The victory became the biggest cup win in Scarborough Athletic history.
Not a bad way to spend a Saturday.
Our reward?
York City.
At home.
A proper local derby.
From one cup adventure…
Straight into another.
Meanwhile… The Habib Makanuola Saga Continues
Just when we thought the month couldn’t become any stranger…
The work permit application for Habib Makanuola was rejected.
Again.
At this point I’m fairly convinced the Home Office had started recognising Scarborough Athletic’s phone number.
To make matters even better…
The board refused to let us terminate his contract because there wasn’t enough money available.
Which meant Habib would be remaining with us for another four months.
Unable to play.
Unable to leave.
Perfect.
Naturally, Habib celebrated this latest development by treating the entire squad to fish and chips before chartering his yacht into the North Sea.
At least…
That’s how I imagine it happened.
Scarborough Athletic 1–1 King’s Lynn
Lewis Maloney was finally given a well-earned rest.
Predictably…
Everything immediately became much more difficult.
King’s Lynn punished a poor pass from Will Thornton after just two minutes, continuing Scarborough’s increasingly irritating tradition of gifting opponents early goals.
The first half…
Well…
Let’s simply say it offered all the entertainment value of watching paint dry on a damp November afternoon.
Half-time arrived.
Mr P cleared his throat.
The dressing room walls reportedly haven’t recovered.
Scarborough emerged looking like an entirely different side.
Wave after wave of attacks followed.
Chance after chance came and went.
Frustration grew.
Until Harry Green stepped forward.
A magnificent free-kick flew beyond the helpless goalkeeper and into the top corner.
It deserved to win any football match.
Unfortunately, football occasionally ignores beauty.
Despite dominating the second half and peppering the King’s Lynn goal, Scarborough simply couldn’t find another breakthrough.
Nine shots on target.
One goal.
One point.
If ever there was a game that felt like two points dropped…
This was it.
Scarborough Athletic 4–2 Bishop’s Stortford
Bottom of the table arrived on the Yorkshire coast.
Surely…
Just surely…
This would be one relaxing afternoon?
Of course not.
Bishop’s Stortford sliced through our defence inside the opening minutes with alarming ease.
Honestly…
If our back four left any more space, the council would start charging rent.
Thankfully, Rutledge possesses a neck of truly extraordinary proportions.
Somewhere between human and giraffe, he stretched every available vertebra to meet Alex Green’s cross and somehow powered home the equaliser.
Then came one of the season’s greatest mysteries.
Scarborough were awarded a penalty.
Nobody inside the stadium appeared entirely certain why.
Lewis Maloney stepped forward.
The crowd waited.
He missed.
Silence.
So…
He is human after all.
Perhaps, being the generous soul he clearly is, Lewis simply felt sorry for the visitors after receiving such a questionable penalty decision.
His apology lasted approximately six minutes.
The resulting free-kick was outrageous.
One thunderous strike.
Top corner.
Justice restored.
The second half finally resembled the league leaders.
Dom Tear swept home brilliantly before repaying the favour by teeing up Oscar Hartley, whose effort benefited from a rather generous deflection.
Bishop’s Stortford grabbed another after the Scarborough defence temporarily resumed wildlife observation duties.
Thankfully…
That was as exciting as it became.
Another win.
Another three points.
Another afternoon where normal blood pressure remained entirely optional.
Scarborough Athletic 2–2 Boston United
By the final league fixture of November, the squad looked exhausted.
Unfortunately…
Nobody had informed Boston.
The visitors scored early.
Again.
At this stage we were almost considering allowing teams a one-goal head start simply to save time.
The first half was dreadful.
There are many tactical terms managers use after poor performances.
Mr P chose different vocabulary.
Sadly…
The dressing-room microphones were unavailable.
The second half somehow became even worse.
Corrigan returned from injury.
His very first meaningful contribution?
Conceding a penalty.
Two-nil.
The unbeaten run drifted towards the horizon.
Desperate times required desperate measures.
Harry Green entered the pitch.
With his first touch…
He may well have scored the goal of the season.
Thirty yards.
Crossbar.
In.
The sort of strike that makes everybody simultaneously laugh and applaud.
Hope returned.
Scarborough threw absolutely everything forward.
Defenders became attackers.
Midfielders became strikers.
Common sense quietly left the building.
Then…
The eighty-seventh minute.
Maloney produced a superb pass.
Green delivered the cross.
The Boston goalkeeper somehow managed to fall over absolutely nothing.
Luca Colville bundled the loose ball into an empty net using a technique that could best be described as…
“Functional.”
Cue absolute pandemonium.
Another comeback.
Another point rescued.
Another chapter added to the unbeaten run.
At this stage, I’m beginning to suspect this football club simply refuses to acknowledge the existence of defeat.
Player of the Month
November’s player of the month was a VERY close call, with 3 or 4 possible candidates putting their name in the hat.
Scarborough Athletic’s own Player of the Month eventually went to Harry Green, whose performances throughout November helped keep our remarkable unbeaten run alive.
By this point the dressing room was beginning to resemble an awards ceremony, which is always a pleasant problem to have.
However, considering Harry’s habit of rescuing us with late goals, I’m fairly sure this was voted through before anyone had even left the changing rooms.
The main reason why we are still unbeaten
From the Tavern
Eventually…
November came to an end.
I’m fairly certain it lasted somewhere between six weeks and three geological eras.
Eight matches.
Cup heroics.
Seven-goal celebrations.
Late equalisers.
Defensive calamities.
Goalkeeping emergencies.
Award ceremonies.
Rejected work permits.
And somewhere amongst all the madness…
Scarborough Athletic remained unbeaten.
The football itself has started to change.
Gone is the carefree swagger of early autumn.
Every match now feels like a test of endurance.
Clean sheets have become increasingly rare.
The squad is tired.
The fixture list shows absolutely no sympathy.
Yet every time this team looks beaten…
Someone finds a moment.
A tackle.
A clearance.
A free-kick.
A thirty-yard thunderbolt.
A ninety-fifth-minute equaliser.
That’s becoming this team’s greatest strength.
Not tactics.
Not talent.
Not luck.
Belief.
And now…
December waits.
Still top of the league.
Still fighting on three fronts.
Still somehow refusing to lose football matches.
Standing between Scarborough Athletic and one of the biggest days in recent club history is a trip to League Two Gillingham.
The FA Cup dream remains alive.
The Tavern doors will be open.
The pints will be poured.
And, with a little luck…
Perhaps Father Christmas might deliver one more miracle.
From the Tavern…
Mr P 🍻
Video Chronicle
Prefer to watch rather than read?
The full November Chronicle is available below in video form.