Paul Hodgson has allowed the official website to publish extracts from his book -- today we look at the final chapter 22, covering the events of the play offs in May 2000.

May saw us entertain Lincoln City at Feethams for the final league match of the season.

However, our fate was now out of our hands. We had to rely on Northampton losing away at Torquay. If that happened and Darlo either won or drew we would then grab the precious third automatic promotion place.

Ian, Mike, Simon and I met up in the Dalesman for this all-important fixture.

We were all disappointed that Darlo had to rely upon Torquay winning.  Ian reminded us of the fact that after the April the club had endured, the players only had themselves to blame.  I partly agreed, but pointed out that if Peter Duffield’s disallowed goal against Northampton (which in my opinion was not offside) had been given, then our fate would have still been in our own hands.  I still found it hard to believe that one extra point would have made so much difference.  Ian said that as well as Darlo gaining one point, Northampton would have been two worse off.  I actually didn’t think of it that way until he brought it up.  My head must have been in the shed!

After finishing our drinks we all headed to Strikers Bar.  Earl Gray was in there with Richard Jones. John commented that we were lucky that Torquay still had a very slim chance of making the play-offs, so at least they would be going for it rather than just lying down and dying.

 I went with Simon to my usual place to watch the game.  We saw a much better performance from the Quakers and for a few minutes we both thought that they would make it after we heard that Torquay had taken the lead at Plainmoor.  The whole of Feethams erupted as word got around the crowd via fans listening to their transistor radios.

However, the joy was short lived as Northampton came back to win 3-1.

Darlo won 2-0 that day with goals from Jesper Hjorth and Peter Duffield in what as I mentioned earlier, was a good performance.  Unfortunately, it was too little too late and we were therefore at the mercy of the dreaded Play-Offs.

After the match I went straight home as I wasn’t in the mood for socialising.

Darlo were paired against Hartlepool who had finished seventh.  The other two teams were Peterborough United and Barnet who would contest the other semi-final.

The first leg was at Victoria Park.

Mike and I travelled up there on the early train, changing at Thornaby. Having bought a copy of The Northern Echo from the newsagents at the station, we were surprised to read that George Reynolds had recently been mugged and his Rolex watch stolen whilst visiting London.  Given his reputation, we thought the thieves must be either drunk or stupid!

 When we arrived in Hartlepool we went for a drink then made our way to the ground.

One of the game’s first talking points was in the fifth minute when Craig Liddle brought down former Darlo forward James Coppinger as he was heading towards goal. Luckily, the referee, Barry Knight, only showed him a yellow card.

Thirty minutes later we were grateful to Mr Knight as Liddle settled our nerves by blasting home the ball from close range with a right foot shot. On seventy-six minutes, we scored again thanks to a controversial penalty awarded after Glenn Naylor theatrically threw himself to the ground after the most innocuous contact with Hartlepool keeper Martin Hollund, who was red-carded for the offence. Once again, we were thankful for Mr Knight’s interpretation of the events!

The first task that substitute goalkeeper, Andy Dibble, had was to pick the ball out of the net after Marco Gabbiadini converted the penalty. So, given what had happened to George Reynolds in London you could say that we mugged Hartlepool!

After the second goal was scored, the home supporters spat at and pelted David Hodgson with coins, one of which, a 50p piece, struck him on the back of the head. I was disgusted to see football fans behaving like that and felt that Hodgy should have had more protection from the stewards than he appeared to be getting.

After the final whistle had gone and the players were leaving the pitch Marco Gabbiadini was punched by an irate Poolie fan as he made his way towards the tunnel. Once again, there appeared to be no protection from the Hartlepool stewards, something that I personally just couldn’t comprehend.   

The two of us left with a few minutes remaining to avoid any trouble that may occur outside the ground and Mike pushed me in the direction of the railway station by a circuitous route.

We then sat in a pub near the station as there were police vans in the area. It would have been madness to catch the early train, so we decided to bide our time.

Suddenly, all around us were Poolie fans. But they didn’t know we supported Darlo because my replica shirt was carefully hidden inside my tightly zipped up jacket. We both sniggered to ourselves as we watched a police dog van pull up outside.

We witnessed several charges like those of the Light Brigade as some Darlo fans tried to get at the home supporters. Some Alsatians were in cages, eager to see action!

In the end the police grew tired of this and let the dogs out, which had the desired effect! Whilst all this was happening, a skinhead Hartlepool fan in the pub, who was tattooed with HUFC on the back of his neck, commented “I wish there were some fucking Darlo fans in here!” to which Mike and I just laughed to ourselves.

  While both sets of supporters were on the rampage in the streets outside the station, Mike and I were fortunate enough to watch all the above unfold from a comfortable vantage point in a nice warm pub!

 Once the fun and games had subsided, and the police dogs had been exercised off their leashes, things calmed down when the bulk of the Darlo supporters left on the first available train.

We still remained behind in the pub with our new-found “friends” and then when the coast was clear Mike pushed me over the road to the station where we caught the next train to Thornaby, and shortly after another to Darlington.

 On arrival, we headed to Feethams, where we met Ian, who had been watching the game on a giant screen. Since he had been unable to obtain a ticket, as there were only 741 available, he had watched the match at the ground instead, amongst a crowd of some 3000.

The three off us therefore celebrated our victory in Darlington Cricket Club before heading into the town centre where we met several Darlo fans and regaled them with our tale of the pitched battle outside the station. They all thought it really amusing that we had managed to find ourselves in a pub full of Hartlepool fans and, more importantly, our cover had not been blown.

For the return leg, I met Mike in the Dalesman, having gone there straight from work. Despite the fact that it was only around half past five, we were both surprised to discover that the doors had been locked and we had to knock on the side door to gain entry. Before letting us in, the barmaid looked through the window to ensure that she knew who we were.

The pub was full of Darlo fans and since Mike and I had come straight from work we both opted to have a meal.

While we were waiting for the food to arrive, we chatted about the forthcoming match. We were both confident that we would win the tie overall, since no side had scored more than two goals at Feethams all that season. The omens were therefore good.  However, Mike pointed out that there was always a first time for everything.  He almost made me feel as if I was with Roger Martin!

From there we went to Strikers Bar where we had arranged to meet Ian and Simon and they turned up five minutes after us.

The bar was really full and by the time Ian queued to get some drinks it was almost time to leave. Simon therefore pushed me into the disabled area, with me only having drunk half of my pint.

Darlo scored early though a Gary Strodder own goal on nine minutes, virtually killing the tie off as a contest. The rest of the match was really just a stroll in the park as Hartlepool never looked like scoring.

At the final whistle, to add to the air of celebration the tannoy played Que Sera Sera and Perfect Day by Lou Reed. Darlo were on their way to Wembley again for the second time in four years!

Unfortunately, Mike, Ian and I were unable to celebrate too late into the night as we all had to get up for work the next day, so we had to be content with a couple of pints in the Dalesman. Despite this, it the lager still tasted all the sweeter as we had just beaten our fiercest rivals.

Mike and I travelled to London for the final against Peterborough United by train on the Friday morning as the match had been rescheduled for that night due to the fact that England were playing a friendly against Brazil the following day.

 This was not ideal for both teams and would mean a slightly lower crowd. Nevertheless, we decided to travel early and would be staying overnight in accommodation that we had already booked near the stadium, returning on Saturday afternoon.

During the journey, we chatted to two Darlo fans who we had never met before; they said that they hadn’t seen the team play since the last Play-Off final against Plymouth Argyle in 1996. 

They added that their wives wouldn’t let them go to the run of the mill games as money was tight.  I could understand to an extent, but to not attend a home match in at least years and then call yourself a supporter was a bit much!  Personally I thought that they were part-time supporters, and I told them so.

On arrival in London we caught a black cab off the rank outside Kings Cross station to our bed and breakfast on Forty Lane near Wembley Stadium. Because of the heavy traffic it took an eternity for us to arrive at our destination and the fare was an obscene £46!!!  I still think to this day that the driver took us that particular way, knowing exactly how much the

fare would be!

 We found our B&B and Mike got my wheelchair through the door with a little difficulty considering the fact that the accommodation was supposed to be disabled friendly. When we tried to get into our room we found it was a very sharp turn and I had to get out of my chair to actually get in.

Inside, we found that there was a high step up into the toilet and shower room. It would have been impossible for Mike to get me in there so I ended up having to use the toilet and bathroom near the B&B’s entrance along the corridor.  I found this particularly annoying, as the owner had assured Mike when he had booked it, that the room was “perfectly accessible.” However, I decided against complaining as we were only going to be staying one night and it wouldn’t have been worth the hassle.

After we had dropped off our belongings and got a key, we went for a wander in the rain along Forty Lane towards the Asda supermarket where we had a coffee and a snack in their restaurant.

Since it was still raining heavily we decided to catch a taxi from Asda to a pub called JJ Moons in Kingsbury near the tube station where we had arranged to meet some of the fans who lived in the London area. This time, though, the fare was only a fiver!

Mark Trenholme was already in the pub when we arrived. We chatted to him and the name of the Australian goalkeeper called Frank Talia cropped up during our conversation. Quick as a flash, Mark said, “Is his wife called Genna by any chance?” Boom, boom!!

Just after our first pint, Stephen Lowson arrived, closely followed by John Wilson and his wife Bev.

Our main topic of conversation was the taxi fare that Mike and I had paid from Kings Cross.  Everyone agreed that we had been ripped off big time.

After leaving the pub, Mike pushed me along a very soggy Wembley way, along with the rest of our group. The rain was incessant and didn’t relent all evening.

We bought our programmes and then met a disabled Darlo fan called Debbie together with her husband Steve. I had spoken to them on a couple of occasions previously and after a brief chat decided to have our photographs taken to commemorate the occasion, which Steve, her husband, took. After we left them, Mike and I made our way to the disabled entrance, after saying goodbye to the rest of the lads.

On entering the stadium, we were issued with a plastic cape each which certainly came in handy, though for me it was a case of Halifax revisited!

It was ironic that we ended up having to play the game on a water-sodden surface that resembled Feethams at its worst. Mike and I both felt that the game should really have been called off in the circumstances.

As the players entered the arena, a firework display exploded into life as the PA blasted out “We will rock you” by Queen and “Roll with it” by Oasis, the acrid smoke hanging over the pitch like a curtain of fog.

 But Mike and I thought that it didn’t have the desired effect as it was still raining by the bucketful. The rain seemed to dampen the whole occasion. Also, I was disappointed and surprised to see that Phil Brumwell, who played two excellent performances against Hartlepool had been dropped to the bench and replaced by Neil Aspin in a reshaped defence.

After the National Anthem was played the fans behind me broke into a spontaneous chorus of, “We love you Darlo, we do…Oh Darlo we love you.” Our ten thousand fans certainly made plenty of noise but were outsung by the twenty thousand Peterborough fans. The reason for the overwhelming odds as far as the supporters was concerned was that Peterborough is only one stop away from Kings Cross by train and people could attend the game straight from work, whereas the Darlo fans would have had to take at least an afternoon off work. Had it been a Saturday game, I felt that the odds would have been more even.

My own feeling was that we could win the game due to the fact that we had beaten them 2-0 at Feethams only a few weeks previously and in Marco Gabbiadini we had a forward who could win any game.

The two of us went in the disabled area and witnessed a spirited performance by Darlo in the first half.  In the first minute Darlo nearly took the lead after Michael Oliver crossed into the box for Marco Gabbiadini to head just wide from the penalty spot. Gabbiadini had another chance after ten minutes when he sent a Peter Duffield cross just wide from ten yards out. Three minutes later he had another opportunity but the ball was deflected by a Peterborough defender for a corner. “Are you watching Hartlepool?” sang the fans as we turned the screw on our opponents.

By this time, Mike and I had a gut feeling that it wasn’t going to be our night. Our feelings were further compounded when Duffield hit the post on twenty-six minutes.

Following the half time interval, Darlo could have scored yet again when Neil Heaney had a dangerous shot blocked by a Posh defender. In the sixty-fourth minute we had to reshuffle the defence after left-back Paul Heckingbottom went off injured to be replaced by forward Glenn Naylor, with Michael Oliver slotting into Heckingbottom’s position. Although Oliver was a left-sided midfielder he wasn’t a genuine left-back.

Our fears became a reality when in the seventieth minute Steve Castle headed the ball into the Darlo box for former Wimbledon striker Andy Clarke to have a shot block by Andy Collett. However, Clarke pounced on the rebound to volley home which led to Peterborough manager Barry Fry sprinting down the touchline in celebration. My reaction was to put my head in my hands as at that moment I realised that Darlo would not be going up and all David Hodgson’s hard work had counted for nothing.

Following the goal both teams missed several good chances as we pushed forward looking for the equaliser which never came.

Taking into account the match as a whole, Darlo had been unlucky, as they had missed numerous chances, not for the first time that season.

One event that made us think that Marco Gabbiadini might be leaving the club was when he took off his shirt at the end and threw it towards one of the Darlo fans. This struck us as a gesture of farewell, similar to the Jason De Vos incident the previous season.

 After the game we moved on to a pub called The Crock of Gold where we watched the highlights of the game on the television. We saw the post-match interviews with opposing managers David Hodgson and Barry Fry. The former was drained but gracious in defeat, the latter his usual ebullient self.

 Then we went back in a subdued mood to the bed and breakfast.

Once we got on the train at Kings Cross and started to chat, the reality of what had happened at Wembley the night before began to sink in. We wondered what the consequences of not getting promotion would be.

The two of us hoped that the nucleus of the team would be kept together and a few new faces would be added to the squad. I personally thought that if this were to be the case then the club would easily achieve promotion the following season.

On the plus side, we both agreed that Darlo had a good goalkeeper in Andy Collett, but needed to sign a better back-up than Mark Samways or Chris Porter. We also had a solid defence but unfortunately Martin Gray apart, the central midfield players were weak and needed replacing. We had flair in abundance on the left flank, through Neil Heaney, with Neil Wainwright returning to Sunderland we were reliant on centre-forward Jesper Hjorth filling his boots. Again, this needed to be remedied if we wanted to go up.  Finally, up front we were too reliant upon the individual skills of Marco Gabbiadini and needed to find the correct partner for our top goal-scorer, as mentioned earlier in this book, who was named the Football League Nationwide Division Three player of the Year. Peter Duffield was the best foil for Gabbiadini, out of a pretty inconsistent bunch.

We therefore decided that we needed a back-up goalkeeper, two central midfield players, a right winger and a forward. This could have been achieved by releasing players who we felt were not up to the job, hence freeing up wages to bring in these better players.

On arrival in Darlington, we left the train wondering what the summer would bring for the Quakers.

However, as I got into my flat, I was eagerly looking forward to the new season.