LEON'S LINES 2005-2006 - The Groundhopping Page
As I pulled into the quiet Springfields Close car park an hour and a half ahead of kick off, there was just one other vehicle parked up. When the chap in the car spotted me, he wound down his window and expressed one of the warmest welcomes to a new ground I have received for a long time. This diminutive fellow turned out to be the Padbury chairman as well as the groundsman, secretary, kitman, sometime linesman, social events organiser, matchday all-rounder and very occasional centre-forward, despite being the wrong side of forty. This was indeed Mr Padbury himself who despite the atrocious situation the team currently find themselves in, is seemingly keeping the club going single-handedly. When I asked whether there were any bridleways in the area so I could take Smudgie the whippet for a walk before kick-off, he promptly pulled out an Ordnance Survey map from his car and proceeded to point out some of the more scenic routes through the countryside surrounding the village. When later on I bumped into him in the beer garden of the Blackbird Inn (he was picking up the sandwiches for the officials), he bought the missus and myself a drink. Top notch hospitality I should say and if he's reading this, cheers mate! Later in the afternoon he went on to tell me that Buckingham Town, who Padbury had been feeder club to up until recently (hence the BTFC in their name), had severed all ties with the village side and in doing so, taken seven of last season's team to Ford Meadow. Last season Padbury had surprisingly reached the semi-finals of the Challenge Trophy – this season they had conceded over forty goals in their opening few games plus a further nine today against a strong Oxford City side from two divisions higher. It was a sad state of affairs indeed although the youngsters who took to the field this afternoon did Padbury proud with a second half display which frustrated their opponents and supporters and ultimately will give their collective confidence a timely boost ahead of their crucial next few games. A pasting table was put out at the entrance today and admission charged at £2 (including a programme) and why not I thought – a famous old club like City at Springfields Close may not happen again for many years. Sadly however, the match had failed to trigger interest in the village whilst City's support, although colourful, was far less than I had imagined. Still the atmosphere around the place was friendly and the banter good as a nervous Padbury and strong looking City took to the field. Oxford were three up after six minutes and six up at the break. Padbury replaced their injured keeper late in the half and what a difference his replacement made in the second half, not only beating away numerous City chances but organising his back four and inspiring the midfield to close down their opponents, even if that did mean a few yellow cards and eye-watering challenges. My feeling is that if Padbury can replicate their second half showing in the upcoming weeks, the can put the heavy defeats behind them and start getting points on the board. No.19 - Tuesday 13th September 2005, 7.45pm at McMullen Park, Meadow Lane, Cardington, Bedford, Beds Poor old Bedford United, forever in the shadows of their next door neighbours and now dropping through the divisions like faster than you can say The New Eyrie. I was relieved to read in the programme notes that Saturday's 14-0 pasting away at Arlesey Athletic was down to injuries and the non-appearance of their recognised goalkeeper but tonight they would be back to something resembling full strength. Just as well I thought as visitors Colney Heath were top of the table after five games and had already demolished United here at McMullen park in the league. If you've ever travelled down the A421 Bedford bypass, you will almost certainly have seen McMullen Park with it's tiny grandstand and sparse surrounds in stark contrast to Town's rapidly developing stadium a few hundred yards away. Inside however, its a cosy little place with the good humoured support generally gathered in and around the stand. I remember a few years back when Kingstonian, then a strong Isthmian League side, came here in the FA Cup and the place was absolutely bulging with life. At that time, Bedford United were also looking like a progressive little club destined for advancement up the pyramid. For the time being however, those days are a distant memory and the plight of the club and it's dwindling support (just 22 through the turnstiles tonight), is a familiar one. On a mild September evening, the chap on the gate, proudly displaying his club tie and apologetic for the lack of content in the programme, was pessimistic about his side's chances. But from straight from the kick-off United looked up for the challenge and although occasionally a little sluggish at the back, they looked like they were going to give their St. Albans visitors a decent game. When the visitors scored twice close to half-time however, the young heads dropped and their half decent passing game began to fall away. Colney Heath scored a further three times in the second half to go through to the next round whilst United were left to reflect on another heavy defeat. No.18 - Saturday 10th September 2005, 3pm at Station Road, Stanstead St. Margarets, Hertfordshire For myself, the early rounds of the FA Cup are like Christmas when I was a kid, with so many mouthwatering ties between the Davids and Goliaths of the non-league world. St. Margaretsbury of the Spartan South Midlands League against Isthmian high-fliers Billericay Town was the game for me I decided having whittled my list down to three or four. Certainly the potential of an upset was high here in Hertfordshire with 'Bury notoriously difficult to beat in the FA Cup (they reached the third qualifying round a few years back) and in decent league form at the moment. As the blue and white clad masses from Essex descended upon the sleepy village of Stanstead St. Margarets, the excitement down in the pubs alongside the River Lea was tangible. I would guess that 'Ricay brought with them 150 or do supporters and in the place the size of Stanstead, this was enough to completely transform the place. Incidentally, there is an excellent 30 mile plus walk from Stanstead Abbotts through the Lea Valley through varying scenery which, if you're into that sort of thing, I can highly recommend. I did the walk over a few weekends in 2002, starting at Ware and finishing in Tottenham although I believe the walk actually starts in Luton. Anyway, back at the St. Margaretsbury Recreation Ground where the little wooden grandstand from the club's Herts County League days still stands alongside the neighbouring pitch, the bar was full, the queue at the tea bar stretched out the door and the programmes were fast disappearing. Funnily enough, that old stand is actually preferable in size and structure to the pair of tiny, DIY corrugated stands the club erected atop the bank when they swapped pitches. Nevertheless, it's a picturesque little ground being tightly hemmed in on three sides (the far side by a canal) and dominated by the well established oaks and sycamores around the perimetre. The 'Ricay support congregated behind the goal which their attacked and attacked with some panache I might add during the early exchanges. In a half strewn with injuries and hold-ups, a peculiar incident occurred right at the end of the half which brought about great hilarity amongst the travelling fans. Clean through on goal, Danny Hockton had his ankles clipped by a 'Bury defender. The dopey bleeder in black (to paraphrase an Essex visitor) promptly sent off the 'Bury goalkeeper (who admittedly had come out to gather the ball) before being persuaded by the raucous crowd that it was actually the defender who was the guilty man. Back on came the keeper as the ref wafted his card in the face of a defender – the wrong one! With the whole saga threatening to descend into complete insanity, finally, after ten minutes of discussion and two incorrect red cards, the ref and his linesmen took note of the pointing Billericay fingers and cries of 'it was him you bloody twat' and got the right man. This shall remain my 'most bizarre moment of the season' I'm sure. Remarkably, with ten men and up against incessant pressure, St. Margaretsbury held on for a draw and another famous FA Cup result. It was to get better the following week however when they went to Billericay and pulled off a win in the replay, probably the biggest shock of the round. A decent day all round and a club worth a visit on a Saturday and with enough time to explore the delightful little villages of Stanstead Abbotts and St. Margarets. Bloody Sutton Bridge. For the second time in a year I got meself stuck in a queue which formed when the Cross Keys Bridge did it's bit to let a ship pass beneath. Anyone who knows this little area of fenland a few miles west of King's Lynn will know what a Godawful place it is with it's monstrous power station, tempting yet highly dangerous overtaking spots and scores of (probably) illegal immigrants pulling up turnips in the fields alongside the A17. Admittedly, I should have been more prepared and left a good half an hour earlier for my double-header beginning at Gainsborough Trinity but an hour stuck in a queue just to let a bloody dinghy through I ask you! By the time I arrived in Lincoln, the chance of reaching Gainsborough had passed, as had my three o'clocker at Retford. One o'clock kick-offs at Sleaford and Grantham were touch and go and so it was that I decided to park up in Waddington on the southern outskirts of the city, pull on my new hiking boots and trek the four miles downhill to Lincoln Moorlands. I didn't really mind in all honesty, as sixteen matches in the opening few weeks of the season had left me a little footy'ed-out and a single instead of a double plus the bonus of a hike on a scorcher of a day was by this point a situation which I was actually quite happy with. The Moorlands club is situated a little way down Newark Road on the right hand side as you leave the city. A blink-and-you-miss-it sign depicts the club's emblem at the entrance to a narrow lane which leads down to the ground, itself tucked in amongst the gardens of some Lincoln's more desirable properties. With England playing Wales I had suspected that the crowd would be thin but with five minutes until kick-off, I wondered whether the officials and supporters of both clubs were all members of the England supporters club as the only folks in the ground were myself, another couple of hoppers and a young girl running the tea bar (and looking mightily annoyed she was doing so I should add). A few more stragglers appeared as the game began but a crowd of just 25 in a large private sports ground which is hidden away in a quiet, nay silent, residential area really did give new meaning to the word soulless. Still, I wasn't going to complain as I lay atop the grass bank behind the far goal with my shirt off - no one was really going to point a finger at me and cry 'who ate all the pies'. As it turned out, at least 24 of the 25 in attendance were from Parkgate and when their side, resplendent in a strip identical to their neighbours Rotherham, dominated Moorlands in the first half but failed to score, a few mutters of 'should have bloody stayed at home at watched England' grumbled around the tea bar at half time. They really should have as Moorlands pinched two goals midway through the second half for a most unlikely victory, their first this season. The 'Moorlands Club' is a truly delightful ground which has become more established with each passing year since the club's acceptance into the North East Counties League back in the early nineties. The latest addition is a smart new grandstand which is positioned along the dug-out side from the corner flag to the halfway line. A giant flag depicting the club crest has proudly been strung out along the back of the stand although this seemed lost on the pitiful few inside today. On the opposite side, set back a good ten feet from the touchline, is the original timber seated stand with it's quaint diagonal supports – a classic non-league gem. Embedded into the turnstile block is a beautiful embossed plaque, again bearing the Moorlands crest and name. The overall appearance is one of uniformity, tidiness and above all, pride. The fantastic programme was chock-full of club facts, reports, 'funnies' (what ever happened to the obligatory joke/cartoon page in programmes?!) and news making the best I have seen this season. I know England were playing and the chance to but attendances here so far this season (and indeed last season) have been dreadful and the overriding feeling I was left with was that this club deserves a lot better. Those with nowt to do on Saturday afternoons in Lincoln (and my guess is that there is plenty) could do a lot worse than take in a game at the Moorlands. No.16 - Wednesday 31st August 2005, 7.45pm at Bearscroft Lane, Godmanchester, Cambridgeshire It was only when I arrived home and flicked through my match records that a most curious coincidence became apparent. On 31st August 1995, exactly ten years ago to the very day, I attended a Godmanchester Rovers match at their old Judith Field ground. Back then 'Goddy' were an average Cambridgeshire League club with no obvious ambitions to move forward. Fast forward ten years and here they were with a neat little ground set out amidst rolling farmers fields, a small but loyal fanbase and a fast improving team who were proving themselves to be one of the early Division One pacesetters. I had originally planned to visit Huntingdon Town but upon arrival at Jubilee Park was told there were no programmes. With half an hour in hand and a decent geographical knowledge of the adjoining towns, I made the decision to visit Goddy instead and this was rewarded with a thoroughly absorbing game. Bearscroft Lane is tiny, unmarked farm track on the left hand side of the A10 and is roughly equidistant between the town centre and the Wood Green Animal Shelter. It's unmarked but keep an eye open for the floodlights which are clearly visible from the main road. On a hot and humid late summer evening, this was certainly the place to be and the decent gathering which included around thirty vociferous souls from Fulbourn added to the sense of occasion. Like last season's newcomers Walsham-le-Willows, Fulbourn were already well at home in the Eastern Counties and after a few games were up in second place. When I visited them in their final Cambridgeshire League match last season, the one thing that really struck me was the bond between this close-knit group of lads. I remember on that evening the chairman telling me their young left-back had travelled down from university in Leeds for the game with Tuddenham – a meaningless end of season game in which champions Fulbourn won 13-0. This spoke volumes of the commitment of these players and there must be hundreds of clubs out there who would die for this kind of loyalty. Anyway, they were impressive from the off tonight and scored through Ben Mhishi after just 30 seconds play. They then struck a second shortly after although it was clear they were going to have to work hard for the three points as Goddy roared back with some excellent football. Shortly before half-time, Bewers met a corner with a sizzling overhead kick to set up the second half nicely. The ground at the moment is fairly basic with just a small stretch of corrugated cover along the clubhouse side. The rural location however makes Bearscroft Lane ripe for further development however and the chap in the tea bar told me that plans had been drawn up for a grandstand along the far side. Burger in hand, I made back out to pitchside where Goddy were already limbering out with ten minutes of the break still remaining. This seemed to work as they proceeded to dominate the second and drew level through another wonder goal from that man Bewers, this time a stunning curling free-kick. Six minutes into injury time, they were awarded a penalty which the Fulbourn keeper saved superbly. The ball was hastily flung up the pitch where Fulbourn's Joey Abbs smashed the crossbar with a thunderous drive. These last couple of minutes reflected the chances and excitement throughout the match and if you get the chance this season, I would certainly recommend watching either of these two highly attractive sides. No.15 - 29.08.05: Atherstone Town v Nuneaton Griff (MCFLP)... COMING SOON! No.14 - 29.8.05: Yorkshire Main v Bentley Colliery (CML) ...COMING SOON! No.13 - Monday 29th August 2005, 12noon at Moorends MW, Grange Road, Moorends, Doncaster, South Yorks The first bank holiday of the new season and the first chance of a treble. Although the Hellenic groundhop was in full swing, I had already visited a few of the grounds on the menu so I instead grouped together a small list of fixtures in and around the Doncaster area and gradually whittled those down to two with an evening game a few counties south in Warwickshire. I left with four hours to get to Doncaster and made it in three meaning a walk around the gloomy, eerily empty market town of Thorne was possible. I then made my way a few miles north to the colliery village of Moorends, locating Grange Road at the far end on the right hand side heading north. Through a housing estate and the ground is located at the far end beyond the cricket pitch. The first thing that strikes you is the scale of the wonderful ancient brick grandstand. Although it has it's back towards you, it's quite a sight being resplendent in it's fresh coat of vivid blue paint with the legend TCFC picked out in giant white letters. Inside the ground and inside the stand, there are two sections of bucket seats in the clubs colours of blue and yellow. Today, on a showery afternoon, the stand held around fifty spectators although I would guess it could seat at least 200. Last season proved to be a miserable campaign for Thorne as they ended up rock bottom with a number of heavy defeats along the way. This was brightened at the very end however by the good nature and foresight of the Premier Division's other clubs who voted to keep Thorne in the division. The AFC Barnsley crowd I spoke with last season were adamant that a club like Thorne, with over a hundred years of history, a fine old ground and a genuine bunch of locals who work tirelessly to keep the club going, should be kept alive. This feeling was seemingly echoed amongst Thorne's rivals and this season on the pitch they have started well. Having just taken a photo of the stand's exterior, I purchased my programme which proudly displayed the grandstand on the front – a picture taken from an almost identical spot to where I had just taken mine. Askern brought a number of rowdy followers with the them and this coupled with the grizzled old boys with smokers coughs from Thorne created enough banter to keep everyone amused. When Thorne pinched two goals in the final minutes of the match to snatch victory, I could have sworn there were 500 in the stand and not just 55. A big old colliery ground with stacks of history and a few old boys still left to tell their tales are my favourite type of venues. And I would put Thorne up there in my top ten – if you haven't been already, I would certainly recommend a visit to this fine old club. No.12 - 27.08.05: Southampton v Crewe Alex (Football Championship) ... COMING SOON! No.11 - Thursday 25th August 2005, 6.30pm at Cavendish Road, Markyate, Hertfordshire There is so little to report on my trip to Markyate, a decent sized village a few miles south of Dunstable, that I almost didn't bother. I then remembered there was a double rainbow halfway through the second half so I thought I'd better get something down on paper. The trip down was hellish having got caught up in rush hour traffic in and around Dunstable. Upon arrival, the response I received when I asked the petite female secretary whether there were any programmes was a sarcastic 'yes mate, they're in the Markyate Megastore along with the replica shirts'. There were of course no programme nor was there any decent football to speak of between two of the least attractive sides I've seen for some time. The ground, situated at the very top of the narrow Cavendish Road, is unsurprisingly basic with no cover and three sides railed off, the fourth giving way to the cricket field. It reminded me of a less developed Shillington, right down to the clubhouse building which is almost identical. Markyate have begun the season atrociously, losing their opening game to newcomers Tring Corinthians 12-1. More of the same followed in the next few games but tonight's game with fellow Division Two weaklings Loughton Orient would be their first real chance to register a point or three. At least that's what I thought until I spotted Markyate's keeper who resembled an oversized Buster Bloodvessel with a mouth to match. The brightest aspect of the home side's play was a young diminutive midfielder who was head and shoulders above everyone else on the field. Sadly his sweet passes and tackle-dodging were wasted as every time he displayed his abilities, he was immediately let down by his team-mates. Still, there was one moment of brilliance to savour when Loughton's Campbell struck a blistering shot in off the post from fully thirty yards to win the game. Having seen a few sides in this division already this season, there is no doubt in my mind that Markyate and Loughton will struggle this season and for the few relatives and friends who turned out on this showery evening, it could be a long one. No.10 - Wednesday 24th August 2005, 6.30pm at Kingsway, Beverley Road, Luton, Bedfordshire For my first of two successive midweek South Midlands Division Two matches, I chose to visit The 61 FC who play their matches on the open parkland of Kingsway in urban Luton. Back in the late 80's and early 90's, The 61 were regulars in the Vase and a staple of any hopper if not only for their continuous programme issuing and curious name. Nowadays however, this proud little club are being threatened with demotion into county football as Kingsway becomes increasingly dilapidated and remains unenclosed. The little stand is peculiarly positioned at an angle near the corner flag and is surprisingly cavernous inside, despite only having a single row of wooden bench seats. Affixed to the overhang, in peeling paint, the club name: 'Welcome to the 61FC' painted in a quirky 1950's style reminiscent of a welcome sign to long forgotten town in the American midwest. This area of Luton is truly multicultural and this was reflected in a group of Asians behind the far goal playing an intriguing game that resembled a hybrid of volleyball and cricket. At times this evening, this was infinitely more interesting than the game I had travelled over 100 miles to watch. Keeping up the club's excellent reputation for issuing, a stack of programmes sat on the bar in the club and what a splendid effort it was too being full of stats, graphics and charts. Someone out there is an anorak just like me...Tonight's visitors were Crawley Green, last season's Division Two champions, but tonight they looked anything but champions as they huffed and puffed their way to a slender 2-1 victory over The 61. I counted only 11 spectators who remained for at least half the match although many, many more passed through, took a look at the game, then wandered away. During the second half some idiot with a little group of followers turned up on a tiny two foot high motorbike and proceeded to speed around the perimetre of the park on this ridiculous contraption. A group of scantily clad teenage girls with blue legs sat on a flight of steps leading up to the Dunstable Road, hoping to be noticed by the stud on a kiddies motorcycle. The funniest thing was that the 'biker' was even clad in leathers and boots. Twat. In the distance, by the kids playground, a gaggle of lads stood around looking menacing and doing little whilst dog walkers came and went and an old boy carried home bags of shopping from Tescos. On a warm summer evening, the park must have had over hundred people in it at one point or another but only 11 stopped to watch a senior game of football. A sad reflection of our times I guess... No.9 - Tuesday 23rd August 2005, 7.45pm at Outgang Road, Towngate East, Market Deeping, Lincolnshire Into the very heart of the fenlands I drove where the fields fill your nostrils and the telephone directories only have two surnames in. Only joking. I love it out here – miles of empty roads, curiously named villages (Hop Pole anyone?) and a 360 degree horizon. Outgang Road really is the quintessential fenland ground being a good mile or two from the town and surrounded by nothing other than miles of flat, fertile, honest land. It's been nicely developed too into a UCL premier division venue and whilst the attendances are still poor, the club are well equipped for the future should the locals get interested as at Wisbech, Spalding or King's Lynn. Tonight Deeping played host to the wildly unpredictable Harrowby who had either shipped huge amounts of goals or surprised the fancied sides in their opening few games. £3 admission was paid and a programme, smartly designed with an image of the club shirt and badge on the front cover, was snaffled. The main stand is an impressive thing indeed and is split into two sections, one side for seating, the other for loitering. Surrounding the whole site and thus enclosing the ground are tall conifers, perfect for losing the ball in after every wild shot. Luckily tonight, the majority of the shooting was pretty accurate as a superb game of football developed. Harrowby struck early before Deeping's sole import, the Hungarian Lovas Laszlo, scored with a sweet reverse volley. Deeping were by far the more impressive of the two sides using the flanks to great effect and crossing with pinpoint accuracy. However, a minute before half-time, a dubious penalty was awarded to Harrowby for handball which Chappell converted for a surprise lead. During the break I queued for a brew with a 6 and a half foot guy clad in leathers, jet black hair down to his waist, black lipstick and matching eyeliner who told me he and his mother – a sweet little lady with silver hair standing next to him - had been watching Deeping since the Peterborough League days and hadn't missed a home game since then. Now that's loyalty for you. Another thing that I love about the fens are the huge expanses of sky. Tonight, as dusk fell, the sky was a remarkable palette of pinks, reds and oranges giving the match a beautiful backdrop as the floodlights flickered into action. Deeping levelled midway through the half but then high drama right at the death as the ref inexplicably played eleven minutes of injury time. A few minor injuries had occurred but no more than three or four minutes. Anyway, with Deeping pushing hard for the winner and twice hitting the bar, Harrowby broke away and won the game in the very last minute of injury time. The Deeping players and fans alike were incensed and a few feet away I saw the giant goth having to restrain his dear old mum from going after the referee. It certainly was a peculiar end to an otherwise exhilarating game. No.8 - Saturday 20th August 2005, 3pm at Wodson Park, Wadesmill Road, Ware, Hertfordshire With FA Cup history set to be made down in the Lea Valley, this match up was always my number one choice of game in this season's first round of the FA Cup. Sporting Bengal would be the first Asian club to enter the competition and having already become rather fond of this passionate bunch of football fanatics from my first visit to the Mile End stadium back in 2002, I sure wasn't going to miss this one. Upon arrival I spotted a few familiar faces from around the groundhopping circuit and wondered whether they too were there simply for the history-being-made aspect. Certainly the journos and camera crews were here for this reason and when two minibuses of Sporting fanatics rolled up with their Bangladeshi flags and confident swagger, I think everyone inside Wodson Park not connected had a smile on their faces and promptly put their hands together to applaud them. They took up half the decent sized grandstand and from there, cheered every pass their team made (whether it found a player or not I should add), booed every decision that went against them and made enough noise to be heard in Hertford. Safe to say this afternoon was not going to be your average FA Cup fare... Before the Sporting supporters had arrived half an hour before the kick-off, Wodson Park was virtually empty meaning I had the luxury of the club shop to myself. Here I was able to rummage through piles of musty old programmes at my leisure and dig out a few rarities as well as an old heavyweight Subbuteo team which has since prompted the start of a small collection. The missus isn't happy I can tell you. Anyway, the Ware club shop is excellent and is situated beneath the grandstand. A quick half in the lively clubhouse before a trek around the ground which still looks as immaculate as when Ware moved in back in the early 90's from their historic old Buryfields ground. Despite being some distance from the town centre, there appears to be no shortage of locals willing to make the trip out to Wodson Park and this despite the club's average league form over the past few years. This season Ware will again ply their trade in the Isthmian Division Two where the derby matches with Hertford Town will be the season's highlights. A tunnel of photographers arced around Sporting as they ran out onto the pitch in their golden shirts whilst FA chief exec Brian Barwick looked down from the stand. It really had been a baptism of fire for the fledgling club when they first moved into senior football a few years ago but since then, a steady improvement in results and increasing confidence has turned Sporting Bengal a side not to be taken lightly. My favourite striker – Prince Pipim – was still frightening defenders with his brawn up front whilst a wealth of young talent had broken through since I last saw them. However, Ware's no nonsense game plan won the game with two goals from as many attempts and a brick wall defence saw off Sporting who for all their flair, pace and willing, simply couldn't break down the more experienced home side. After all the early scepticism, Sporting have firmly established themselves in the Kent League and with so much talent within the Asian communities just waiting to be discovered, I'm convinced they will go from strength to strength. In doing so, let's hope they encourage more youngsters to join their local clubs. No.7 - Friday 19th August 2005, 6.30pm at Old Northamptonians Sports Ground, Billing Road, Northampton A day spent working in Stratford-on-Avon gave me the opportunity of a rare Friday evening fixture in Northampton en route back to Norfolk. For a while it was touch and go as to whether I was going to make the early kick-off as the traffic on the A45 Northampton bypass was at a rush hour standstill and I was right in the middle of it. However, I arrived in the Old Northamptonian sports club car park on Billing Road with just a few minutes until kick off and with the programme seller at the entrance clutching the last two copies. Phew. This was the first game of the new season and a derby against last year's Division One champions. The decent crowd of nearly 100 reflected this although I think a few were here to sample the fine new clubhouse with it's balcony overlooking the pitch. Although still unenclosed on two sides due to sharing with the cricket, Chenecks little ground has been made all the more tidy with addition of the clubhouse and the smartening up of the small seated stand which now proudly displays the club name on the fascia board as 'ON Chenecks FC.' I discovered from the secretary that the club's intriguing name derives from one of the school houses at Northampton Grammar School where the club's origins lie. Other houses were named Chipseys, Beckett and Spencer, the latter of course giving it's name to the town's other non-league club. During the close season Sileby Rangers had suffered something of a mass exodus as the majority of their championship winning side had departed to pastures new and it was clear from the off that they were just a shadow of last season's all conquering side. Coincidentally, I saw Sileby almost exactly one year ago to the day and their brand of football on that occasion was controlled, skilful and a joy to watch. A year on and it was all wild swings, hoofs up the field and a distinct lack of control. Still, they took the lead a minute before the break when Chenecks failed to clear a corner and Bennett bundled the ball over the line. The second half began with the ground bathed in soft, hazy evening sunshine. Chenecks levelled on 53 minutes with a strike from Gray and went on to score two further goals despite looking only very slightly inferior to Sileby. They even had the luxury of a missed penalty, the culprit Mark Tebbutt who went on to score the goal of the game with a fine run and low drilled shot. I enjoyed my brief visit to this friendly little club whom have been members of the UCL for a staggering thirty-six years without having any real success. Maybe the time is right for them to change that this season and push for the Division One title. No.6 - Tuesday 16th August 2005, 7.45pm at Hamlet Croft, Hamlet Road, Haverhill, Suffolk Why I never got round to visiting Haverhill Rovers when I completed the rest of the Eastern Counties league five years ago I will never know. I remember once turning up for a match on a freezing December afternoon and finding the gates locked upon arrival. That was in 1994 and over ten years on, here I was again at this delightful little ground set amongst trees on the eastern side of the Suffolk town. Hamlet Road follows on from the High Street and the ground is set back from the road and accessed via a little lane. The first thing you will notice are the three different ground levels which give Hamlet Croft it's distinctive appearance. Up on the top level are the facilities; the clubhouse, 'Rovers Return' tea bar and the stand which now looks resplendent after an ingenious make over. What was once a simple and uninspiring cover is now a non-league gem as a giant 'HRFC' has been painted in white onto the black steps within the stand. With so much greenery surrounding Hamlet Croft, these initials really jump out and at once lets reminds you of where you are. A six foot bank drops down to the playing surface and on the far, tree-lined side of the ground, another bank leads down to the perimeter and houses beyond. After three games with a combined admission of £55, it felt good to get back to paying just £3.50 to watch a game of footie. A reasonable programme cost a further £1 and a cup of tea 50p meaning by the end of the evening I had spent just £5 plus fuel. Haverhill's visitors tonight were Eastern League newcomers Debenham Leisure Centre who during the close season had bizarrely adopted the name of their home ground in favour of the far more cutting edge AFC Debenham. My money's on a name change back to AFC in the next year or two. Anyway, only four months had passed since I last saw Debenham in Suffolk & Ipswich League action and there were a number of familiar faces in the team tonight. Having lost at Cornard in their opening game the previous Saturday, I was sceptical as to whether they had strengthened their squad sufficiently to survive in their new league. Seven promotions in twelve seasons in the SIL was one thing but stepping up to the Eastern Counties League was going to be much more of a challenge. Tonight would be a good test as Rovers were always a top-half club and normally an attractive side to watch. On a humid evening, the teams were lead out by shortest referee I think I have ever seen. After three minutes and his third mistake, someone screamed 'Jimmy Krankie!' from up on the bank which brought about great hilarity amongst the 100 or so in the ground. Rovers were playing the better football in the half light (the floodlights were not switched until half time) and went ahead on 30 minutes when Jonathan Welsh – the hardest man in local football according to the programme – bundled the ball in. The football was being played at a frenetic pace and I was surprised by the quality Debenham had to offer. It took just three minutes for them to level and in doing so, register their first Eastern League goal. The ball was floated over from the touchline, flapped at by Bavester in the Rovers goal, and Debenham's key marksman Andy Richards crashed the ball home. The hundred mile an hour pace did not let up in the second half and both sides created numerous chances before Debenham won the game with a fine strike from Bryant in the 81st minute. However, the drama was not quite over as six minutes into injury time, the little Krankie fella appeared to award a penalty to Rovers and Cogger put the ball on the spot. Just as the Rovers striker was about to begin his run up, the referee blew up for full time! A bizarre moment in which I think the ref must realised his mistake in awarding the kick (it was never a penalty) and signalled so not to go through with it. He left the pitch with eleven furious Rovers players plus the management surrounding him whilst the team from mid-Suffolk and their twenty or so supporters gathered in the middle to celebrate their first win at this level. No.5 - Saturday 13th August 2005, 3pm at The Withdean Stadium, Tongdean Lane, Brighton Brighton & Hove Albion (1)2 Crewe Alexandra (0)2 (Football League Championship) I guess for any visiting supporter going to the Withdean for the first time it's going to be a very strange day. For myself however, perhaps a little stranger than most because back in the mid-90's when I lived in Hove, I watched a Sussex County League game between the now defunct Withdean and Lancing at what was then a simple athletics stadium. Around that time I also had the opportunity to visit the Goldstone Ground in it's final days but foolishly passed up the chance in favour of the likes of Whitehawk and Newhaven - how I now regret that decision! For those who have yet to visit, the first thing I will say is that the stadium in tucked away amongst some of the most exclusive properties south of London. The rolling denes and valleys that give Brighton's residential districts of Blatchington, Moulsecoomb, Preston and Withdean their distinctive flavour are quiet and sleepy which all adds to the surreal feeling one gets when visiting Albion's supposedly temporary home. I believe a decision on the proposed move to Falmer is imminent and I would strongly recommend a visit to the ground if you haven't already - it's possibly the most peculiar setting that league football has ever been staged at. An hour before kick-off, I was climbing my way up Tongdean Rise, cutting along shady lanes and down woody paths as I tried to locate the entrance to the nature trail which weaves it way behind the Withdean. When I finally found it I was disappointed to find there were no decent views across the stadium towards Moulsecoomb and consequently no photo opportunities. However, if you visit in the Autumn when the leaves have fallen from the trees, it would be possible to get a spectacular shot of the stadium which would show the setting in it's full picturesque glory. Alternatively, bribe one of the residents of Shepherds Croft to use their back gardens which are perched up on the hill overlooking the Withdean. Whilst the game was in progress today I spotted a group of gents in one of said gardens, sat on deck chairs and watching the match whilst a barbecue smoked. How perfect, eh? I had purchased my ticket in advance (£23 which included free bus travel from one of the two park & rides) and was inside the stadium by 2.30 with around a hundred other Alex fans. Sat in a very temporary terrace block with the running track and oval of the pitch between us and the action, I certainly would not have wanted to be without my specs today. Or my waterproof for that matter as twenty minutes in the rain began to fall and by half-time, most people were soaked right through. Many of the Albion fans were handed free plastic raincoats as a way of apologising for the lack of cover and facilities at the stadium I guess. The away fans however had to suffer on this most miserable of August Saturdays. Anyway, the game was pretty good with Brighton taking the lead in the first half through Leon Knight. The Alex and the Albion are the two favourites for relegation this season (surprise, surprise) and whilst I am confident my own team will continue to surprise and punch above their weight, I have a sneaky suspicion that Brighton will do the same and beat the drop for the second season in a row. They looked good today but maybe lacked a real match winner in the centre of the park. With fifteen minutes remaining, the match looked won but then Dario pulled off a master stroke, bringing on the unpredictable Mark Rivers and promising Michael Higdon. Within ten minutes, both had scored leaving the Withdean silent and shell-shocked. However, as is typical of my team over the past few years, we threw it away in the final minute with the softest of goals you will see all season. Another point for us however and that's three matches unbeaten so far this season – I cannot remember us ever starting a season in the Championship as well as this and who knows what excitement the next nine months will bring. Squeezing through the narrow railway arch which leads down to the London Road after the game, I noticed a number of Albion shirts with the slogan 'We Want Falmer' printed on the backs. The 1983 FA Cup final was the first I ever watched on television and the images of those thousands of Albion fans at Wembley were imprinted on my mind forevermore. They are a truly great club who deserve their new stadium to begin building for the future and I for one will be behind them all the way. No.4 - Wednesday 10th August 2005, 7.45pm at The Kassam Stadium, Grenoble Road, Oxford The following afternoon I had some business to attend to in Witney. This gave me the opportunity to visit the still derelict site of Witney Town's old Marriotts Close ground (the terracing still visible amongst the vegetation) before heading eastwards for a game at yet another league club. Thankfully, The Kassam Stadium was well signposted and after a lengthy drive around Oxford's ring road, I turned off into a thoroughly miserable new estate comprised of office units, unattractive restaurants and a cinema. These types of places seem to be popping up all over the place and are similar to redeveloped High Streets across the country in that they all look the same. Oxford's 'leisure park' as it may or may not be known, is slightly different from the norm however because at the far end of the complex is a football stadium. A quite peculiar football stadium. An hour before kick-off I was sitting at a table outside 'Frankie & Benny's' with a half pint, actually looking into the stadium. From where I was sitting, it was rather like a giant version of one of those cut-away architects models. The Kassam Stadium has three decent sized stands and one end which has nothing other than a simple scoreboard and a wooden fence. Very non-league. From inside the stadium this quirk is even more apparent and the only other ground I can liken it to is Clyde's Broadwood Stadium circa 1996, although I believe stands at either end have now been built. If United pull their weight on the pitch over the next few years and the support for the club continues to grow, The Kassam Stadium will also be fitted with it's final stand as promised by the chairman. For the second successive evening, my wallet took a beating as another £16 admission was handed over then £2.50 for another average Division Two programme. Unlike at Meadow Lane the previous evening where one could take their pick of seats in the vast empty rows, the Oxford Mail East Stand was rammed and I sat two rows in front of a little section where the more vociferous United fans were placed. Despite the spattering of saliva on the shoulders and back of my jacket, the banter and songs from this little group of seventy or so supporters was both humourous and good natured and got the crowd going when Oxford began to dominate the game. I have great respect for Leroy Rosenior at Torquay United and like many, consider him to be one of the bright young managers in the game. However, his side looked less than average this evening and despite the arrivals of some promising foreign imports including the less-than porky Mamadou Sow, I think a season of struggle may be in store for the Devonians. The game certainly took a while to warm up and whilst never a classic, the solitary goal was one of the finest I will see this season. The excellent wide man Chris Hackett, surely destined for great things in the game, laid the ball into the path of Gray who in turn hooked the ball into the area. Twisting and turning in mid-air and making a mockery of his ageing years, journeyman Lee Bradbury performed the textbook bicycle kick and the ball flew into the roof of the net. Magnificent. Torquay had little to offer and Oxford should have run out winners by more than the one goal. Driving home I reflected on my day spent at the old Manor ground on FA Cup day in the early 90's and how that ramshackle, hotchpotch ground really bounced when Oxford played well. At their strange new stadium in it's soulless environment, the team and management have a lot of work to do to get the stadium bouncing like the old days but there are certainly signs that those days may not be too far away. No.3 - Tuesday 9th August 2005, 7.45pm at Meadow Lane, Nottingham In the week leading up to the start of the big non-league kick-off, I really should have been saving the pennies. However, my visit to Stranraer had left me hungry for more football and by Tuesday morning, it became clear that I was not going to get through a full week without a game (uncontrollable shakes, blurred vision, slurred speech - you know how it is). I guess a barren summer devoid of any major tournament had taken it's toll this year and so it was that at 6pm I found myself in Nottingham for a game at the oldest football league club. Meadow Lane Stadium is tucked away amongst quiet industrial sheds and units, camouflaged by it's monotone exterior which blends in with it's surroundings. Approaching Meadow Lane from Lady Bay, the only giveaway is the thin set of floodlight masts and the occasional glimpse through the County bus park of a Magpies badge on the end of a stand. The new, redeveloped Meadow Lane is truly one of the most understated grounds I have ever seen. It's minimalist, angular and geometric whilst the colour scheme is simply four shades of grey with black, yellow and white trim. If you stand at the entrance of Incinerator Road and look down County Road towards the Trent and the City Ground, the contrast between Meadow Lane's Jimmy Sirrel Stand and Forest's Brian Clough Stand just beyond is remarkable. Inside Meadow Lane, the colours become predominantly black with yellow and white picked out in the seats to read 'Magpies' and 'Notts Co'. The four similar sized, single tier stands give the place a nice, simple balance whilst the programme design again reflects County's identity with just the match details and sponsors in eye-wateringly small text laid over an image of club captain Julian Baudet. I remember as a kid in the 80's watching County on television against the likes of Manchester United and Liverpool. Such games were played out against the backdrop of a packed and passionate Meadow Lane with that curious sports centre directly behind the goal. Talking with a Magpie fan tonight, he told me this club is unrecognisable from the County of twenty years earlier. I wondered if all the minimalist stuff was symbolic of the fact County no longer had anything to shout about. Lining up against County tonight were Wrexham, another club to have suffered more than most over the past few years. I guess it was to give these two clubs my support more than anything else which lead me to Meadow Lane and with pie in hand, I took my place up in the Family Stand. By kick-off, the stadium was barely a third full and shot was shards of blinding evening sunshine which made it difficult for both the fans and the players to see a great deal. However, this can be no excuse for the fact that between the first and the eighty-ninth minute, the game was extremely disappointing with little controlled football and barely a sniff of a goal for either side. Wrexham probably edged it but were beaten in the final minute by tonight's one moment of brilliance when some delightful link-up play left Stacy Long in a one-on-one and he dribbled round the keeper to score. The crowd for the most part had been quiet but this goal sparked magnificent celebrations which for a split second gave me a glimpse of a 1980's Meadow Lane. As a footnote, I guess Forest's name should also be mentioned whilst writing of County's decline. Relegated to Division One at the end of last season, it's astonishing to think that twenty-five years ago Forest were winning their first of two European Cups. They have started this season poorly and if a fan I heard on Radio Five's 606 programe is to be believed, there will be a Nottingham derby next season. In Division Two. No.2 - Saturday 6th August 2005, 3pm at Stair Park, London Road, Stranraer (Scottish League Division One) Stranraer (1) 1 Airdrie United (0) 0 Attendance: 855; Programme: £2 for 36 pages A three day visit to south-west Scotland combining business with a spot of hiking threw up the opportunity to get a game in at one of Britain's most isolated clubs. With the tent pitched just outside the delightful little town of Kirkcudbright (home to South of Scotland League side St. Cuthbert Wanderers), the morning was spent driving along the coastal roads through the old counties of Kirkcudbrightshire and Wigtownshire and onwards towards Isle of Whithorn and Burrow Head. Back in 1972, the British Lion film company dispatched a crew and cast which included Britt Ekland, Edward Woodward and Christopher Lee, up to Dumfries and Galloway to begin filming a low budget horror film which thirty years on would become one of the most celebrated cult movies of all time. The Wicker Man is one of my favourite films and whilst not so obsessive as to attend the numerous conventions and festivals set up in tribute to the film, I did want to have a look at a few of the original sites where the most memorable scenes took place. Having located the original wooden stumps of the Wicker Man high up on the bracing Burrow Head and subsequently exhausted the camera with all manner of ridiculous poses as we attempted to simulate those in the film, we moved onwards towards Stranraer where we arrived a couple of hours before kick-off and with enough time to explore the town. Too much time in fact as after twenty minutes or so mooching around the shopping streets and along the bleak seafront, it became clear that Stranraer was not, how can I put it, as aesthetically pleasing as some of the other towns we had passed through. Luckily however, Stair Park the kind of place you would want to wile away a few hours on a hot summer's afternoon and that's exactly what we did, beneath the ornate bandstand in the far corner of the park. At 2.45pm, I paid my £12 admission and entered the ground which it has to be said is a lovely little stadium which combines the charm of a non-league venue (tree lined, shallow terraces, cranky old tannoy) with the functionality of a stadium which could, in theory, host Celtic or Rangers. With the sun beating down and both sets of fans in full song, I decided that there was no other ground in the country I would rather be at today. Stranraer had been promoted at the end of last season to Division One of the Scottish League for the third time in the past ten years. On the previous two occasions, they had promptly gone straight back down but if the optimism of the programme notes and indeed the supporters are anything to go by, they will have a good chance of staying up this season despite what the bookies say. Today Stranraer beat a very average Airdrie United, resplendent in their famous old red diamond jerseys, thanks to a ferocious volley from David Hamilton on 37 minutes. In the second half, the clearly barmy chap in the black managed to book six players and send two off, one from either side. From where I was standing, and that was about three feet away from the first incident, Airdrie's Brian McPhee's tackle on Leigh Hinds warranted no more than a free-kick and both sets of fans made it known with some choice language what they thought of Mr. Boyle. Sunday's newspapers did the same. Stranraer deserved the win however and if they manage to beat the drop this season, it will be one of the greatest achievements in the club's history. I for one wish them all the luck in the world. It had been around nine years since I last visited Scotland for football. On that occasion I took in games at Alloa, Rangers, Lesser Hampden, Clyde and the old Clydebank. I had remembered the standard of football as being quite poor in comparison with the English third and fourth divisions but today, the quality and skill on show easily matched some of the football I had seen in England at this level over the past few years. With this in mind, I will hope to make another visit or two to Scotland over the next nine months. Incidentally, included in the photos I took at Stranraer are images of a few of the South of Scotland League grounds I passed during the weekend, including Creetown, Wigtown & Bladnoch and St. Cuthbert Wanderers. No.1 - Monday 1st August 2005, 7pm at Ashby Avenue, Hartsholme, Lincoln Lincoln United (0) 0 Crewe Alexandra (0) 4 (Pre-season Friendly) Attendance: 155; Programme: N/A Less than 24 hours earlier, I had expressed my feelings about pre-season games in an email to Martin which concluded that I had no intention of watching a friendly game this season nor any other. By the following morning however, the fickleness which I freely admit affects much of my decision making over the course of a season, had already crept in and by six o'clock I was halfway towards my first destination of the new season. For a friendly. My own team Crewe Alexandra were providing the opposition for Northern Premier leaguers Lincoln United and with Dario having made a surprising number of new signings in the past few weeks, it would be interesting to take a look at the academy and fringe players lining up tonight. As many of you will know, Crewe have always brought players through from their youth academy and this has provided new talent each season. Up until now, my club have rarely had any real reason to buy players as ready-made replacements for those stars who depart to the Premiership wait in the wings. I for one would hate to see a change in this rather unique policy but this season Dario appears to have seen a shortfall in the supply chain and has gone out on one of the biggest buying sprees I can remember at the club for many years. I was aware that new strikers Juan Ugarte, Pavel Suhaj and Luke Rodgers would not be involved tonight and therefore looked forward to making my own mind up on the youngsters and how far away some were from the first team. Michael Higdon, supported by a lively and confident Mark Rivers, looked the part in the first half and caused numerous problems for Lincoln. It was the introduction of young Nicky Maynard in the 65th minute however which unlocked the burly United defence and in four second half minutes, the Alex scored three times. Maynard scored his second right on the final whistle and he along with the pacy Paul Bignot, Ben Rix, Michael Higdon and the magnificently named Cavell Coo, reassured me that there is plenty of young talent coming through. Ashby Avenue is tucked away on the fringe of a housing estate in the district of Hartsholme. The tidy little tree lined ground is bordered by the scenic Hartsholme Park where this evening Nicola walked the dog whilst I was spent two hours trying to read into every gesture, every shake of the head and every look skywards Dario made. I was both disappointed and surprised to find the club had not produced a programme whilst the attendance of 155 for the visit of a Championship side, some way down on the club's league attendances last season, was equally poor. The lack of atmosphere, a programme and the sight of a rather disturbing local lad who had both hands down his tracky bottoms whilst telling me which of the Lincoln players he had had fist-fights with, made this one of my least memorable first games of the season. Still, seeing the Alex youngsters added to the excitement that was growing with every passing day as the 'real thing' approached...