Bromley 2-1 Leyton Orient, Tuesday 2nd April 2019

Bromley 2-1 Leyton Orient, att. 3,047

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A week ago, I was in the Leyton Orient social club with a mate, getting all excited about all the real ales, as well as the impending game we’d nabbed free tickets for.  He lives up north, but at present spends half the week in London on business, staying at his ma’s in Epping.  So of course he wants any opportunity to be out of the house.  ‘How’d yer fancy going to Bromley?’ he asked, pointing at an ad on the wall.  ‘Yeah, go on then.’  Always best to act without thinking.  On he goes on that there internet and 2 tickets have been purchased, 15 quid each.  No going back now.

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Cue a week later and it turns out he’s made a slight error.  Not being completely au fait with the ‘burbs, he’s only gone and presumed ‘Bromley’ was that famous East End football team Bromley-by-Bow!  Also, a nice easy journey eastwards to mom’s.  I thought it was strange he was so keen last week.  No great shakes, we work out travel plans and I meet him on the train at Peckham Rye, 20 minutes direct to Bromley South.

The home end.

Unfortunately, the ground is some distance away from the train station.  More than 20 mins, that’s for sure, and we arrange to break up the journey with a 3^rd Londontyke at The Bitter End, some real ale micropub.  Course, it was shut at 6pm, Tues, on a matchday against the league leaders from another part of London.  Do they want business or not?  We went next door, to the Bricklayers.  Now, I’m no connoisseur, but my beer wasn’t great; flat and tasteless.  However, my mate IS (he works in the trade) and declared Shepherd’s Neame not to be the greatest.  None of us finished our beer and as we waved farewell to our mate, the two of us headed to the ground to sample Bromley’s social club.

The view from the Bromley social club.

The social club was a cracker, much better than my beloved Barnsley FC (why do lower league clubs have better social clubs?)  Still had to settle for Birra Moretti though and the choice of Wolves v Man U on the bigscreen, or leave the comfort to watch the match we’d come for.  We headed behind the goal, with the Bromley Boys, as the Orient took the terrace on the far side, or 2 of the 3 pens.
There followed 45 mins of exemplary top of the league football as Bromley were simply outplayed and couldn’t get the ball.  Still, there was an element of luck to Orient’s opener, as the ball cannoned around the box following a corner before it was prodded in, slow motion.  Surely Orient would canter to victory?  That they didn’t was down to a mixture of fortune, the referee and their own complacency.

Match action (Orient fans to the left).

Half time came and we were hungry.  Was it my tightness, or an old fondness for tomato soup (not utilised in 20 odd years) that brought me to choose the soup and bread (2 quid) over a hotdog (three fifty)?  As it was, 4/5 of it tasted of water, before I found a mound of tomato sludge at the bottom of the cup.  No wonder the guy in the refreshment hut told me to give it a stir!  Bleak.

Don't do it...

I was still ‘enjoying’ it as Bromley equalised, early in the second half.  A punt over the top and a Bromley forward cuts across the Orient defender and goes down.  The defender couldn’t have avoided it in a million years.  Penalty AND a sending off (and under the laws of the game, since he wasn’t going for the ball – or anything else for that matter – he had to go).  This was triple jeopardy, nevermind double.  In fact, make that QUADRUPLE.  I’ve since seen it again and the ‘foul’ actually takes place outside the box.  The penalty was gloriously lashed home.  ‘Now THAT boys, is how you take a penalty’, said anyone channelling Brian Glover in Kes. 

WHOOSH!

The yoof in the home end were now becoming quite raucous.  Amongst some old school insults and chants, South London is, apparently, ‘full of t*ts, f*nny and Bromley’.  Which is news to a Peckhamite like me – I thought Bromley was in Kent.  (It doesn’t have a London postcode.)  Another highlight was the number of youth with curly hair.  It’s obviously a ‘thing’ cos there’s no way you get so many together, outside of a ‘boys with curly hair convention’.  My favourite was the fat ginger one, who needed a sitdown after his halftime sustenance.  It can be tiring, eating.

Looking towards the home end.

Anyway, the (Bromley) worm had turned.  They were now on top, as Orient began losing their heads.  The Bromley right winger smashed a shot off the bar from 25 yards, while an innocuous looking fracas on the Orient touchline had 20 players pushing and shoving and the odd Orient fan (I’ve met some odd Orient fans) being led out by stewards.  What got their goat?  Memory doesn’t serve whether they were already losing by then.  I think probably.  A superb goal too, as the Bromley left winger whipped a great ball in and only one player was getting this one, as the centre forward bustled in, leapt, and met the ball sweetly with his head.  The brilliantly named Dean Brill in the Orient goal had no chance.  There was still time for a comedy Bromley miss, as a backpass header was seized upon and trundled wide as the forward fell over.  A great win for the underdogs on their plastic pitch (I had to mention it somewhere).

Look how beautiful that pitch is!  No wonder.

The ground itself is a real treat; a new cantilevered seating stand, holding about 1,400 and including club offices, looks on the verge of being finished behind one goal.  Opposite, was the main home terrace, cosy, with a small roof at the back held up with many a black and white post (club colours) and covering not much more than your average bus shelter.  The terrace to its left appeared to have three ‘pens’ of which 2 were full of away support tonite.  Indeed, over 3,000 were packed in tonite, the biggest league crowd of the season and twice the average.  Mind, nearly half the crowd were Orient.  The 4^th side housed the Main Stand, a small affair running not far either side of the halfway line, with the social club next door.

In amongst the home end.

Despatches:
The beer was £4.10 a pint, but it wasn’t my round.  I did however lose a fiver to my mate, as, at 1-1 and down to 10 men, I bet Orient would still win.  A couple of days later, I was chatting to a mate about the game.  He was originally from Welling and announced that there was no way Bromley were in the National League (perhaps he meant ‘Bromley-by-Bow’).  Anyway, let’s just say I took a tenner off him, so I’m still up on bets!

The Damage:
£15 ent
£2.50 prog
£2 ‘soup and French bread’
= £19.50

The Tunes:
If You’re Feeling Sinister (Belle and Sebastian)
Jah Sees Jah Knows (Misty in Roots)

Turnstiles on the way out.

The edge of the terrace.