The North West outfit, while still second in the championship race, were denied their first to back wins of the current campaign.
No millionaires amongst those who turned out for the Drogs but they at least respected the claret and blue colours they played in. As the game approached its concluding minutes it seemed as if the Drogs would go down fighting, having conceded two soft first half goals. In the end they didn't go down at all but secured a draw courtesy of a delightful Frantz Pierrot strike masterfully curled in from the edge of the box. There was nothing lucky about it. Pure skill from the Haitian international.
Pierrot had not scored since the Leinster Cup clash against Bohemians Under 20s back in January, a spot kick. When he eventually broke his duck from open play it was a moment well worth waiting for.
Myself, Paddy and his son had arrived about 45 minutes before the game to claim our usual seats on the halfway line.
It was a bright, mild evening, the heavy coat I had purchased for winter games left unbuttoned. In the carpark I predicted a draw while Paddy was slightly more hopeful. The ever present hip flask accompanying me, I had barely consumed the first swig before Drogheda found the back of the net, a neat Warren Davis finish signalling advantage Weavers. Three minutes in, and the already noisy fans broke the decibel bank. Paddy suggested if the Drogs bag another they could afford to sit back as they have something to defend.
By half time that had gone awry. The Drogs were trailing. We were apprehensive approaching the end of the first half, knowing too well that the Weavers men can experience a lack of concentration, a feeling compounded by two first half substitutions. Nobody in the Drogs midfield or centre back line closed down the approaching Will Patching who took what Paddy described as a training ground shot. A good goal but defensive frailty allowed it to get through. A No 6 has to block, not act like a Garda on traffic duty waving through whatever comes his way.
Across Weavers Park the Derry contingent were exercising their bragging rights throughout the second half. It is always good to see a sizeable travelling fan base. Says something about the health of local soccer. Paddy commented to me that our Ultras had messed up with the geolocator on their phones. The Brandywell side were being taunted as Orange bastards and we were invited to clap our hands if we agreed. We declined, obviously, but before some pontificator from the Wokerati goes off on one, it was soccer fans chanting, not hate speech. Ribald and raucous, performative rather than poisonous.
Our side of the park grew more animated as the clock ran down. There were frequent outbursts at the referee who did seem to make a number of poor decisions. I wondered if he too would become an Orange bastard.
We came away relieved that the Drogs avoided defeat.
At the same time, second from bottom and on eight points the position is precarious. Next week's game is away to Bohs who are not on their game this season. Three points would be wonderful but a draw is much better than a defeat.
As we left the ground in the darkness we were pleased not to have out path lit up by flares which blighted last week's game when a Shels fan thought he would set the place alight. Flares are an unwelcome feature of the local game, posing a risk too great to allow for nonchalance. The sight of a sightless eye caused by a careless flare is simple not worth the candle.
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