Cold, damp, foggy…what better way to spend Satdy afternoon than in the Northern League in December? The Auckland derby – West v Bishop – called, but I’ve been to Darlington Road this season. I needed somewhere else, close to home, where I hadn’t been. Thus, too far to Blyth Town (called off anyway) and I figured Billingham could do with my support more than West.
Parked up (with the help of Google Maps) next to the ground, I paid my seven quid and was in. No programmes, and barely any fans, save for a few wearing the black and amber of Crook. I think the rest were in the clubhouse, which I hadn’t yet discovered. Just time for a little wander to the far side before battle commenced, both teams coming out to no fanfare at all as I looked up from my phone to see them ready to kick off. I could just about see the far goal, but I could definitely hear the Billy Town drummer. My God, a drummer, at this level. I couldn’t see him, but he was in the Main Stand somewhere, opposite.
There were a few fans on this side, including a couple of raucous away fans. Most spectators stood under a small cover. It may not have been raining, but it looked warmer and cosier. Behind the goal I’d walked past an even smaller stand – a former bus shelter (timetable still in place) propped behind the two step terrace.
Billingham, amongst 4 teams roughly tied at the bottom of the league, didn’t lok out of place against a midtable Crook side who’d threatened the top 4 not so long since. But the pitch was heavy, the effort was high, and neither team gave ground. Chances were at a premium and the sides went in at half-time nil nil. In the meantime I chatted on to former league president Mike Amos, who’d had to change his plans to see the Auckland derby, called off at 1:45pm. (Some people get personal phonecalls from team secretaries.)
I continued my circumnavigation of the ground. Where was everybody? I noticed them sloping off before half-time. They were all in the clubhouse over the other side. Upon finding, I went in for toilet and warmth. I sank into the comfiest of couches while marvelling at being able to buy a large bottle of Pino Gricho for 8 quid. I didn’t see any takers.
Second half, I tried out the Main Stand. I stood at the back, having changed sides to avoid the drummer. Great view. Well, considering it was foggy. And 16 minutes in, the ref blew his whistle and came over to the two coaches. What was going on? I presumed an injury of some kind, but no. Two minutes of chit-chat and that was it – the ref had called it a day, despite conditions being no worse than at kick-off. I milled around, listening to various fans chunter their frustrations before I was approached by someone looking very official in an FA overcoat, carrying a clipboard. ‘I’ve no idea why it’s been called off.’ Oh dear.
The Damage:
£7 ent
£1 tea
= £8
The Tunes:
Pure, Impure (Seefeel)
BBC5Live
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