Cup Final Tickets

After a draw in the reverse fixture at Denbigh last Friday, which allowed Caernarfon to draw level at the top (still have the Mold Alex game in hand), Town were back home on Saturday and for sheer fucking rarity value, we were going and would get there in ample time for kick-off.  Playing Penrhyncoch, the rarity was increased by the fact that my brother was working so couldn't go.  There was a minute's silence before the off for Aberfan.  Freely admit that I filled up as I was telling the kids about it.

Town were frankly fucking magic.  All ball was to feet, the movement off the ball was outstanding and they found space all over the place - Penrhyncoch spent most of the afternoon chasing shadows and never had a shot worthy of the phrase "on target" in the first 80 minutes.  The Remaining Twin was frankly rude, made a holy show of anyone who came near him as his touch was deft, accurate and he had total control of wherever he was on the park.  Made some old heads look very ordinary.  Jordan scored in the first minute, added a second after twenty and made the hat-trick just after the start of the second half.  2-0 at half time, one disallowed (correctly - ball was over the byline - just - before it was pulled back) before the third and but for the keeper who made three stops that were genuinely fucking amazing and a couple of sweeping moves where they carved them up like a victim on Quincy that deserved goals and on another day would have gone in, it could have been 8-0 by the hour.

So they got complacent, took the foot off the pedal and although could have scored another couple (Steady's free kicks you fancy he could stick every time) they conceded a frankly fucking soft, training ground kickabout goal on 83', then a setpiece on '87 and panicked like fuck waiting for the final whistle.  Well, it came but fuck me, they make you sweat like Graham Rix in an all-girl school sauna.

Gibbo was going to go fucking spare on them after the game, and rightly so - it would have been a travesty not to win but at the same time, they did their best to try and shit it up.  I haven't forgotten the first 80 minutes but I haven't forgiven the last ten.

No curry.  Had gravy instead.  Fair substitute.  Couple of away games and the Welsh Cup before next home game (the Holywell reverse) so a big few weeks upcoming.  Will be trying to get to most.

Great stuff Bert..........Did Puskas play?

"they make you sweat like Graham Rix in an all-girl school sauna"

Puskas appears to be off the books, Tone. Jack Kenny ousted him as first choice last season and they brought in Damien Kettley to go up front when Alex Jones went to Rhyl.

Start notwithstanding, we got some fucking desperate news tonight. HMRC served a winding-up order to the tune of £53k payable by November 24 and with no option of a payment plan. Seems a bit fucking harsh given the leeway offered the likes of Bangor and Rhyl but that's not going to help pay it. The plus side is they are a club in the community, the downside being it is only a small community. It'd be a massive loss to Welsh football (and particularly North Walian football) if Town were to go under.

Somebody will stump up the dough, don't worry.

Llanelli went to the wall for half of that, Tone, but Town are well on the way to finding it. Date is in fact the 28th which is the Monday after the Flint game. Fans intend to sponsored walk from Flint to home for the game on the day among other things.

HMRC have assessed the money (from player payments and expenses) on Premier League season 2014 (Europe) and not taken into account the swingeing cut in the wage bill (from £4k a week to £1.4k) for the seasons after. Seems a bit shitty and a bit basic to miss, tbh.

If it's a test of Gods v Taxman, the Gods have put a right fucking message out today. Wasn't well from Thursday on so had to take the knock and not go to Gresford today. Town, quite simply, dominated. Corner after corner, won 2-0, free kick (Steady) and penalty (Jordan Davies, again) and ex-Prestatyn hero keeper Dunty sent off for Gresford just before the penalty. A cracking result that is even more pointed in the face of Llanfair going to Caernarfon and winning 4-2 - a monumental result. Flint won so are in a share of third (behind Caernarfon on goals scored) but three points back and Town have a game in hand.

Crowdfunding is going well in terms of the debt - Rob Caton (fans liaison officer and plays a bit of guitar, Tone) is publicising the sponsored walk by fans from Flint to Bastion Gardens on the 26th November for the Town v Flint game and is getting a tidy bit of a response - he aimed for a grand and after two days, has revised the figure to five grand because he hit that inside forty-eight hours.

Welsh Cup next week - Hawarden away. A short journey for me, tbh. Bonfire Night as well, so I might have to finagle some sort of plan to get there and back...

has revised the figure to five grand because he hit that inside forty-eight hours.

Bitter fucking cold at Hawarden. They play on a municipal field with no floodlights opposite Hawarden High School (est. 1606) which has a hockey pitch that is floodlit. Bovril was 30p in the clubhouse and entry was essentially "find somewhere to park, it's a public field, mate". Absolute fucking magic. I nearly parked at a vet's up the road because I thought "surely they're shut of a Saturday". They are but I chickenshitted out and parked in a residential street a shade further up. Walked back the ground and the first thing I see is a space where someone has obviously realised that today was not the day for dogging here and fucked off. Realised as I walked across it and thought "shouldn't there be a car here?"

Turned up after about a quarter hour in, found it with a minimum of fuss but after a mini-tragedy when the independent where I bet has gone under, effective Tuesday, closing today. Quite saddening, actually, they were handy and a bit of value generally. Had to rejig my betting plans though, and a 2pm kickoff was always going to be a stretch then.

Town were one up and had saved a penalty subsequently. Again obviously had more of the game against a physical side. A few names shuffled around so the side looked a bit different, not a full strength outfit but more than enough. Ended up 4-1, they scored out of consolation at 3-0, tidy in the face of a stiffish wind in the first half. Went home, fried the fuck out of a ton of meat and set off pyrotechnics. Yay

The Mold Alex game was rearranged for tonight.

10-2. Jack Kenny got six. Absolutely fucking mint

Holyhead Hotspur at home Saturday last. If the club survives, in two weeks this will be the first post-survival fixture, effectively repeated for the Welsh Cup third round.

Six points clear going into the game and £8k short of the £53k target, 90 minutes later they were still six points clear because of Lee fucking Healey, the Kirkby car-robbing cunt. Town were tidy and dominant in equal measure - they weren't as untouchably fluid as they were against Penrhyncoch but they were never on the back foot and pressed throughout. Steady nearly worked the oracle yet again with a 25 yard free kick that grubbed a few inches wide of the post having completely bypassed the six-man wall - reputation precedes him it seems - and left the keeper static.

Young Jordan scored first with a hard, low strike from the edge of the box after a corner. He then added a penalty won by Jack Kenny getting in behind the last man again - he is a nightmare for any defender in this league, excellent feet and pace with it for a tall man. 2-0 at half time and it all looked rosy.

There was a sale of odds and ends in the club house obviously to raise funds and my nine-year-old pushed me into buying a badged hoodie for myself. Once bought, she badgered me to put it on which at half time, I did. The entrance fee was a donation rather than the standard £6 so I paid the most I've ever paid to get into Bastion Gardens and picked up a flyer in the door that was both warrying and heartening. The club is still £8k short but the gate of 154 reduced that on the day by a further £3k. Next update is tomorrow as the statement was that it was needed for Thursday 24th or Flint on Saturday is the last game. As Flint is up the road and they're contenders, that game could raise the £3k on its own IMO but HMRC don't wait.

2nd half was largely consolidation, you fancied goals but they never came until two minutes from time and what a fucking goal when it did. It was, I kid you not, the North Wales version of the Carlos Alberto goal of '70 Brazil. The ball was sprayed up and down and around the park to the end that the bloke behind me had time to say "fuck me, what a goal this will be if they score" and still had ten seconds afterwards before they actually did. The late Great Sorprendo flourish in the move was when sub Alex Williams stepped over deliberately for the ball to run on to Mike Parker (what a player he has been again) who pinpointed Noah on the edge of the box, from where he slammed it low into the corner. The guy behind me ran down both steps in utter joy and amazement at what he'd just seen. Ended up 3-1 when having dominated, allowed themselves a moment of nobbery straight out of Harry Hill's £250 locker where they gave up posession, a clen sheet and the disbelief of those there by playing "to me to you" and dropping the ball at the foot of a striker who then walked it into the net.

Lee Healey? The car-robbing cock has continued his tour of the A548 by turning up at Holywell. He missed a penalty that cost them a point at home to Caernarfon which would have put Town 8 clear as Flint slipped up as well. He was that angry he smashed up someone else's car

A great read Bert................especially 90 minutes later they were still six points clear because of Lee fucking Healey, the Kirkby car-robbing cunt


And I told you the money would turn up.

In terms of tin rattling, they grafted for that money, Tone.  Town of 20,000, average gate of under 200 and they raised £50k in under four weeks.  Aside from the faces at the club, there were bits chipped in from all over and spectacularly, IMO, a grand from the supporters at Crewe Alex and a grand from the players at Norwich.  There's an ex-Prestatyn lad on the backroom staff at Norwich and he's bound to have mentioned it and the players have rowed in with a bit behind him which is cracking sentiment.

This isn't just a club, it's a community and off the pitch, they're a team - not one of them has been looking elsewhere, they're closely knit, they work for each other and it's magic to see the kids who were pitched in too deep two years ago gel now and play like the side that won the cup used to.

The sponsored walkers came in from Flint yesterday to watch the first game of the rest of their lives. The programme was sold out before the off but had a front page which simply said "Thank You" and so even though I was on time, I missed out.

Flint had been second/third over the last couple of weeks and as a game it tends to have a bit of needle to it. After two minutes, the first ruck went off on the half way line; I still didn't have my fucking chips at this point, it was that early in (you can view from the tea bar, it's behind the goal, cue me like a meerkat trying to see what's going on around the perspex). No curry but the two young 'uns behind the counter made gravy that was spot on, proper chippy-style, the chips were the best ever and despite their youth, one managed to suitably embarrass this old man by leaning over in laughter at someone else [and holding the pose] and make me feel like Bill Wyman in support at a Spice Girls concert. I had to look somewhere and technically I wasn't breaking any laws but fuck me, I always felt a bit self-conscious of ogling late teens even when I was in my late teens. There are young lads in my position who would have had to stay at that tea bar for a half hour and think of Moira Stewart and I feel like they've missed out. I did look elsewhere, btw, as soon as I could, if just not to be caught even innocently looking like a birdwatcher who sees a rare oyster catcher, whips out his binos and only then realises he's goggling at a nudist beach. "No, I am a perv but this time I WAS BEING GOOD" he'd say (not me, I'm not the slightest bit apologetic and I'm not an oystercatcher man, I'm a tit man).

Enough of my "If I were thirty years younger" rambles. I feel now like I did yesterday, that I've dirtied this thread and I've done nothing wrong... Flint lived up to their name, they were hard and wouldn't break down easily but Damian Ketley was doing the hold-up, battering ram really well, Jordan was the handful is always is and Jack Kenny was overtrumping the pair of them - a big man, he's especially quick and has feet to match it. I doubt anyone fancies facing him, he's as difficult as they come at this level. Noah was showing again that he has come a long way in two years a nd is a hard man to get the ball off, it was all looking very promising, the front line were pressing everything and Flint could barely get out of their own half.

First goal came with a soft but no-complaints penalty. Jordan pushed the ball away from goal just inside the box, the defender was too slow in and trod on his toe. He went down theatrically but the ref had seen it all, the Flinters knew he'd done them and the pen wasn't in question. He converted it straight down the middle and we all breathed a collective sigh of relief as the deadlock was broken at least. There was a spell after 70 mins where we could have had four and the fourth of them was at least converted. Reverse cross from the touchline right by us by Michael Parker (what an example that man is) which Reece Fairhurst nodded in. MP opened his arms wide at the Ultras while the rest of the side were celebrating in the box - it's fucking great to be a part of this. Time enough left for Jacko to get in a bit of grief and get a yellow while the other bloke got a straight red, and then Jacko got suckered into a second yellow 45 seconds later before play had restarted. Hayesy might have taken a dig by the clubhouse while Jacko was on the way off, there was a bit of a barney (50+ people) by the pitch exit/tea bar/dressing rooms (she may have dropped a pound behind the counter, in retrospect) and the Hayesy punch seems a bit harsh given he's still on the injured list and wasn't even fucking playing. True skipper, if it's going off, he'll have a piece no matter what.

They're fluid, they knock it about well and there are some particularly useful sorts in this side with a bench to back it up. It might sound a bit big but I doubt there's a side in the Welsh pyramid that fancies us at the minute - this team has gelled. 2-0 it ended, nice to have a clean sheet. Flint had one particularly good chance which was deflected over in a saving tackle but otherwise that was it. All round tidy, six points clear of Caernarfon (who needed a late winner at home to Mold Alex) with GD in favour and eleven clear of third. Welsh Cup next week, followed by Guilsfield in third (a) and Caernarfon (h). Six points there, without jumping the gun, could be close to putting the league season to bed.

Pitch and suspensions could still have an effect of course - the surface doesn't look too great at the minute and of course it never gets a rest as it so rarely freezes or floods but if we can play proper footy on it, it's playable. This half season so far, though, has been fantastic to watch, a team of kids who've grown up together and pulled together with a handful of stalwarts who are frankly playing up to their very best still and a welcome whenever you go. I remember when on winning the Welsh Cup, Gaz Willo passed his medal up to someone in the crowd to have a look at it. There's no fourth wall, the players are fans and they'll chat to you, laugh at your jokes when earwigging and they remember you. I should have done this years ago.

A fantastic read Bert.........I envy you.

Welsh Cup, Holyhead Hotspur at home again, second time in three weeks.  No end to the list of metaphorical roadblocks in place when the roads were clear to delay me going and eventually got there after just over a half hour gone.  Town were 1-0 up when I asked the steward on entry.  "Who scored?" I asked.  "Jordan Davies or Jack Kenny, not sure which".  Jordan looks 5' 9" and looks like Wayne Rooney, shape-wise.  Jack Kenny looks 6' 2" and looks like a stretched Steve McManaman.  Nice spotting, pal.  Checked after the game, first goal, 6 mins, Damian Ketley...

Chips and gravy weren't last week's but they weren't far off and as such I wasn't bemoaning the lack of curry.  Instead of the lasses, club chairman Willo was doing another stint behind the counter (he's there pretty often) which allowed me to order without feeling like Rolf Harris wanting to say "can you see what it is yet?".  Town were playing in their usual expansive way but were aiming their sights a bit high and not getting the rub on other occasions.  It was only me and my boy this week, and we'd noticed that Pontin's behind the ground had had a clearout of microwaves, there were about 70 stacked in a maintenance area.  Wouldn't surprise me if they weren't all over the fucking car park by now.

2nd half started and under fifteen seconds in, Jack Kenny fashioned himself a one-on-one that could have buried the game.  He had too much time to think about it and placed it a yard wide.  He was fucking seething at himself.  There were a few half chances, a couple of substantial clear chances and luck, design and act of God kept them out.  Town were on top but couldn't close it down.

Well, you know where that goes - name on the cup and all that.  Minute 90, Holyhead corner, overhead kick that could go anywhere and lollops into the back of the net.  All square.  Town go nuts and try to win it in injury time.  Last attack, the ball swung in from the left, coming in under the bar, big man Fairhurst goes in with the keeper who palms it on his line on to the inside of the post and it drops just in front of the line, scrambled away, final whistle mid-attack.  Extra time.

The cameras are there so my boy says "shall we go the other end?" for the first half of extra time.  I said "You wan to get on the telly, don't you?"  "Yes."  Fair enough.  In the middle, the Town lads are stood or crouched or doing stretches.  Holyhead are sat on the turf.  One or two are having the cramp pumped out of their legs.  We're a fit team of maturing kids whereas they're older and have a lad in the Beckenbauer role who two weeks ago was described by my brother as "fuck me, they've got an Oompah Loompah playing for them".  First half of ET starts drably, that late equaliser was a body blow but the longer it went on, the more we seized the game.  But it just would not go in.  Second half of ET is the same, a handful of winning chances and a few nerves are creeping in.  Penalties to follow and as a team of knackered sorts, Holyhead knew that was their best chance.  You know how this ends, don't you?  It ends with pull back to Ben Maher, twelve to fifteen yards out, top corner, 117 minutes, fucking touch for that, he scored, wheeled away and then at the edge of the box, did a handbrake turn and ran back to the fans behind the goal (we were all there, some closer than others.  Unfortunately - but not too unfortunately - we were "others" but not too far from it) and with the rest of the team, immersed himself in them.  Absolute fucking gold.  The last three minutes played out with reasonable containment.  And we're in the bag tomorrow.

My boy and I made our way home in our own time, he chose KFC at Queensferry, and we had a great day, more so than usual, can't put my finger on why.  Maybe it was the "just me and he at the Welsh Cup" thing, that was the final at Wrexham 2013 originally, or the floodlit thing (pitch green, lights white, sky cloudless, clear, unpolluted black) which I always find almost supernatural, or the fact that the pins we'd been on were removed by the late winner but it was bang on.

Guilsfield next week.  A chance to all but isolate us and Caernarfon in the title charge.

Fantastic stuff mate.

Aberystwyth away in the cup last sixteen. Twat of a draw. Truth be told, I maintain no-one in the Welsh pyramid fancies us at the minute but for the wedge we wanted a home draw and someone local (Rhyl obviously ideal). Aberystwyth is a lovely place but a twat of a journey and we were obviously hoping "not mid/South Wales". Last week in January.

Highlights from Saturday

http://www.s4c.cymru/sgorio/gem/prestatyn-caergybi/

If you want to single me out, big fucker, light blue club hoodie behind the goal with my lad drinking a can of Rio when Jack Kenny misses the sitter at the start of the second half, normal time.

Funnily enough Bert, you look very much like I imagined you to!






Gyda llaw, ydych chi'n siarad Cymraeg?

Shave and a haircut (both of us) since then, Tone.  

And not a word, unfortunately, but I'd have loved to have a go - my aunt learnt it when evacuated so we have form...

Well, Guilsfield ended up a 0-3 win with by all accounts an accomplished performance.  Side was a man or two down from the expected starting XI but still managed to win it without conceding.  Caernarfon won as well which meant that the gap still sat at six with an immense goal difference in out favour, but third is also a further six away.

So Saturday was the biggie.  Caernarfon at home and then we're done with them for the season in the league.  The normal crew of us in attendance was ultimately quartered - son was at a party in Trafford (the centre, not a random address), daughter agreed to go to Trafford and then was disconsolate having missed out (see in a mo) and my brother couldn't make it, which was no bad thing as Caernarfon travel in numbers and whereas they are fantastically vocal and well-behaved, there's always one pissed fucker who'll get himself ejected for barking Spanish (el lingo del blotto) at Gibbo.  Our kid would have probably gone some way to making it two.

So it was me alone.  And the car was going to Trafford.  Consequently, I was on the train (which my daughter had been looking forward to - my kids, like me, see the train as a bit of a treat which was why she was upset, missing out), Ordinary To Prestatyn, and as a bonus therefore, I could, should I choose, have a drink.

So, loperamide taken (got to plan these things, Merseyrail trains are short stops and no khazis) I set off and before I'd got a train, had had to drain the tanks at Lime Street.  Radar key privileges so fuck you, immune system, let's get going.  Wirral Line to Chester, change for Holyhead train stopping at Flint and Prestatyn and I don't give a fuck after that...

Arrived in Prestatyn forty minutes before kick-off, a novelty in itself.  Got in for the obligatory chips and curry (back on today) and sat at the edge of the box, Bastion Road end as I do if I'm alone as a rule.  The game started and of course, the dynamic is there that Caernarfon have to play for the win as a draw doesn't cut the deficit.  They move it about nicely, use the full width but we contained them well enough and as ever, with Jack Kenny a yard faster than any striker in this division, and with Jordan no end of trouble as ever, the first line of defence was the front three (Ben Maher in for Damian Ketley, who was out for a second week) and they weren't allowed to settle.  Michael Parker is as phenomenal as ever and with Steady and Noah playing up to their opposition, midfield is supporting the forwards as it should.  The increasingly-familiar back four of Kemp, Fairhurst, Hart and Jacko look sound as ever and Carl in goal can be a bit cheeky (another yellow this week) but he's a fifth man at the back as well as a tidy set of gloves.

Anyhow, Caernarfon had a sizeable travelling crowd who were right behind their team and swamped the clubhouse end when they were kicking that way, which had the Town ultras playing up as well, but I have to be honest - they were a distant second.  Great to see at this level but truth is, they were champions fair and square last year and but for a farcical licensing decision, this game should have been against Cefn.

A quarter in and Jack Kenny makes that pace tell - he gets in behind the back four, the keeper has to come but he's second best and JK puts it away.  A great start, and the half goes on with few worries and a couple of chances to increase it but half time, one nil.

Do I have a pint?  Game is still in the balance and I have nerves to settle, so no.  I'll have a scoop if we win.

Second half and the game explodes just after the restart.  Jordan goes past the full back who leaves in but doesn't take him out, ref gives him an advantage which he cocks up but the ref calls back for a free kick and yellow, right back slot between touch and box, fifteen out.  Steady naturally swings it in pinpoint and it gets bundled in.  Goal is announced: Jacko.  Goal is reannounced: Michael Parker.  The skipper has it and frankly, his performances this season have him towering over this league.  Players celebrate, Holyhead-style, with the fans.  Yes, I'm on the hard standing at the edge of the box forty-odd yards away.

Caernarfon have to come out and get back into it and the game opens up, chances start to come as the spaces beging to appear so when on the hour mark, when we're containing, have hit the bar and could have been three or four in, Caernarfon's Jay Gibbs (have to name him, you'll see) was in midfield somewhere out Talacre way as the ball dropped towards him.  He looked up, set himself and let fly.  I swear it travelled the distance of two bus stops.  Unreal strike, forty-five yards minimum and inch perfect over CJ.  2-1.  Cue more to and fro, we're still having the better but there's a lot at stake, any chance we could settle those nerves?  Well, Jack Kenny gets fouled on the touchline in front of us, opposite side to the earlier set piece and slightly further out.  Steady again and more orthodox but living up to his nickname "back post"*, Parker again.

3-1.  We always look like scoring again and are keeping the ball and in their half.  They nevertheless pull a tidy move together and go 3-2 with five to play.  Rather than all but panic when this happened against Penrhyncoch, we played out the 5+5 (there'd been stoppages to merit that) tidily with only one real chance that Tom Kemp blocked.  3-2 and we're nine clear.  Get in.

As a result I had three pints while; watching first, the scores and then, TNS do for GCQ; talking to a few of the faithful; warming my aris on the radiator; having a quick chat with Hayesy (back soon, happy not to get back in if it means we keep winning); and touching the robes of Michael Parker as he passed by.  I felt a bit cured...  Shook my hand on the way out (was chatting to my lad the other week at Holywell away, got to love this level), apparently has managed a hat-trick before.  I always worried what would happen when Hayesy and Parker packed in.  Still do, but have to admit, this side has chops and mightn't match them but I feel they could be able to replace them.  FWIW, I looked at the team line-up photo for the first game in Europe three years ago.  There are only three survivors, Jacko being the third, and he had a year in Australia in between.  That's some rebuild.

Haddock, chips and mushy peas from the Crispy Cod by the station.  I sat on the dicky seat in the corridor on the train while I was finishing them because (i) I didn't want the carriage to have to put up with my fish and chips smell and (ii) fuck off, they're mine and I paid for that smell and I'm not sharing, they're too tidy.  Again, I repeat - fuck off.  Went to read a bit in the carriage after three pints and a fucking huge fish supper.  Put the book down as I was falling asleep between Flint and Shotton, which isn't going to help me get off at Chester.  Stayed awake long enough to get to Chester, bought a bit of chocolate (fuck it, I am celebrating) and was home, train door to front door, in an impressive 2 hours, which included a bus and twenty-odd minutes walking.

Nine clear, still in the league cup, still in the Welsh Cup.  Fucking mint.

A fucking gem of a write up there Bert........I could even smell the fish and chips.

Ever faithful, I even drank the sustenance of a club sponsor, Tone - Wrexham Lager.

There is a tale to tell of it. Wrexham Lager is a fucking godawful brew. If you ever drank Higson's (Liverpool brewery), it was like licking stamps. Apparently Wrexham Lager was what Higson's became after going through the human body. It was the UK's oldest lager and was on the Titanic, which probably explains the iceberg. Even the fish wouldn't swim through it.

But Wrexham Lager ceased production in 2002. The new Wrexham Lager is a phoenix beer, revived nearly a decade later at microbrewery level and although produced from largely the same recipe, does not suck dick. Wouldn't be my beer of choice but eminently suitable for a few - like Carling, a "cooking lager".

Next week Town go to Buckley (handy but Christmas Eve) followed by the League Cup quarters (Guilsfield, home, but New Year's Eve) and then Holywell at home, the two tightest defences in the league and another rematch with Lee Healey, providing he doesn't get pissed on NYE and steal someone's car to get home in time to let it the New Year by driving through their front fucking window...

Apparently my 5000th post.

6-1 win at Buckley, Jordan and Jack K traded blows at the top of the scoring charts with two apiece, Noah got one and Steady the other. Nine clear still and already huge goal difference took a bump up as Caernarfon won 2-0 in front of an impressive 1200