During the Scally era Gillingham have had some great FA Cup days, wonderful wins at Priestield against Bradford City, Sheffield Wednesday and Charlton, honourable defeats against Chelsea and Arsenal, but there is always another side to the coin. In the time honoured fashion of reverse order here are my three ties that go down in history as the darkest of FA Cup days.
In third place: Welling (1989)
I have Welling in my list at number three mainly because it is the only Gillingham match that I have missed by virtue of not having a ticket and therefore didn't actually suffer the indignity of the defeat. Gillingham should have made progress at the first attempt. They were in good form and a visit from our Kent neighbours from the Conference was a good draw. Gillingham of that time featured one of our cult figures that regularly wins polls as the worst player of all time, Brendan Place. A strike force of Steve Lovell and Hagar (Peter Heritage) failed to find a goal and a replay at Park View Road resulted.
A goal on the half hour saw Welling to a half time lead and despite Gillingham pressure in the second half they were unable to avoid the humiliation of another defeat from a fellow Kent club.
In second place: Burscough (2005)
An accident waiting to happen. This FA Cup denouement was also the exit door for Neale Cooper. When we arrived in the small Lancashire town, Burscough had the feel of an old-fashioned FA Cup day. Shops were decorated in the club colours with messages of good fortune in the windows and we feared the worse. Without an away win all season and following our relegation from the Championship, we were hardly tearing up trees in the lower Division.
Neale Cooper's side contained a couple of the most inept players ever to play for the club. Tony Bullock was arguably the worst keeper we've ever had and Tom Williams was just plain hopeless. Matty Jarvis was an emerging talent, but alongside him we had players that were later proved to be on the downturn of their careers, Hess, Cox, Hope and Smith. Jon Wallis and Franny Collin were never too quite make the grade, perhaps never recovering from the trauma of Burscough.
There had been a lot of rain previous to the day and it was still raining heavily as the teams took to the field at Victoria Park. It wasn't long before the pitch turned into a mud heap. Gillingham started brightly but on 10 minutes found themselves a goal down. Bullock flapped at a cross which fell nicely to the Burscough skipper who drove home. Hessenthaler then limped out of the game and although Gillingham made several good chances they went in at half-time one down.
Mark Saunders, the type of battler that was needed from the beginning was a second half substitute for Crofts and chances came and went before Jarvis equalised on the hour. The celebrations from the sizeable Gillingham contingent had barely died down when the game took another twist and Michael Flynn was sent off.
Despite their disadvantage, the Gills went ahead with 13 minutes to go when Saunders headed in at the near post and we were starting to believe that we were going to emerge from this nightmare. But in the best traditions of the FA Cup the game was set to be turned on its head one more time. In the last minute of normal time a scramble in the Gills penalty area ended with Cox getting a final touch for a own goal. Whilst the home crowd celebrated their replay opportunity, most of the Gillingham support were thankful to be taking the Unibond side back to Priestfield. But, with one last twist of the knife, Williams cleared poorly to a Burscough substitute that had literally just come onto the pitch, the shot took the most wicked of deflections, Bullock fell back onto his backside and the ball nestled in the back of the net. The sight of Bullock sat on his rear end with his legs in the air like a beetle that has been flicked on his back is my abiding memory of this depressing day.
As the home fans joined their players on the pitch at the final whistle, we disgustedly made our way back to our transport home having told Neale Cooper in no uncertain terms that we could suffer no more. Two days later he was gone.
And number one, our blackest day: Maidstone 1980
The scene of our greatest humiliation. A second round tie that went to three games against a Conference side with delusions of grandeur. Three hundred minutes in which Gillingham failed to score and finally conceded defeat on home soil. Gillingham were struggling in Division Three, had been in and out of the bottom four for the first four months of the season, whilst Maidstone were heading up the Conference. It was a shock in the making, but it couldn't happen, could it?
As I have always lived on the other side of Bluebell Hill, Maidstone fans were crawling out of the woodwork to profess life-long allegiance to a club in a town where the most scenic piece of architecture were the prison walls. As much as Stones fans were hard to locate prior to the draw, Gillingham fans were hardly a regular sighting in my home village of Marden. So I was getting a hard time, but surely we could put this lot to bed. Although we were struggling, the team wasn't all bad, these were the days of Price and Westwood, Weatherley and Bruce, Hillyard and Nicholl.
The first game attracted over 9,000 to Priestfield. Gillingham dominated for the most part but it ended 0-0 and a return at London Road beckoned. With home advantage having been lost I was less than convinced with my own argument as the banter heightened in the West End Tavern. Seemingly everyone with an interest in football was now a Stones supporter and going to pitch up at the near derelict Athletic Stadium and so it was that a crowd of 7,500 packed the place.
The most abiding memory of that night was the trouble. If I remember rightly the game had a delayed start as a wall collapsed behind the goal where there was a small bank of terracing. As we stood at one end of the covered terracing that ran the length of the ground, we noticed a group of blokes walking towards us, seemingly chanting Gillingham songs. As they got closer, somebody nearby muttered that he never recognised any of them and within seconds all hell had let loose as they waded into the Gillingham ranks.
I was standing with my wife and a mate, who thankfully guided her to safety as I became detached from them, eventually finding my way onto the pitch. Word at the time was that they had been Millwall supporters, but who knows.
The match itself was another one dominated by Gillingham, but being denied by goalkeeper Dickie Guy (remember him from Wimbledon fame) and poor finishing meant 120 minutes had failed to find a winner.
The third game, back at Priestfield, on a blooming cold Monday night, saw Maidstone eventually winning 2-0 with a goal from Frank Ovard who was later to have a undistinguished spell at Gillingham. After the first two games in which Gillingham had had the lion's share, this one leaned towards Maidstone, who (through gritted teeth) were probably worthy winners. But this was the blackest day in the FA Cup history of our club.
Sunday's draw could see Tamworth, Weymouth and Hayes and Yeading as potential opponents. These are clubs that we have managed to struggle past since our re-entry into the Football League. Tamworth were before my time, but I can remember vividly the mud at Yeading before they merged with Hayes and the relief of a desperate 0-0 draw. And then, of course, there is Maidstone . . .
For some of the research for this article I have delved into Eccles wonderful Tales from Grandad's Toolshed as a memory jogger. Thanks Eccles for such a rich source of information.