As I hit Derbyshire, the fog came in and it never left. So much for views. I reached Glossop, then Buxton. Then a closed road. The main road to Leek cut off for roadworks. Fine. I follow the DIVERSION signs...which lead me to the exact part of the road that’s closed. (The two cars ahead, both obviously having the same problem, stop to ask the workmen WTF is going on.) My satnav is no help either, asking me if the road is still closed. What? The closed road you’d failed to tell me about in the first place?
There is then a harrowing few miles through thick mist, visibility only a few yards, up single track roads, knowing at any minute another vehicle will come out of the mist coming the other way. Far too late to change my mind now, I’m invested. I eventually reach a mainish road and make it to Leek, thankfully free of fog. Satnav now does the easy bit and finds me the ground, and I park 2 minutes on down Macclesfield Road. It’s taken me over 2 hours.
The turnstiles are down a lane, past the Main Stand. (I discover there are more turnstiles on the opposite side of the ground, but who knows when these were last used.) The Main Stand isn’t particularly easy on the eye, but it’s tall, has a large paddock in front and houses over 600 seats. Oddly, it runs from the halfway line to the byeline. I buy a programme and get the last teamsheet – should be worth something in future, that – before doubling back along the paddock, to the social club. There’s quite a few beers on, all big names, but I spy Krombacher and elect for that. An improvement on that lager with the Spanish name that isn’t from Spain. Unfortunately the barrel needs changing, so while the pipe spurts out froth, I miss the teams coming out. Boooo.
I am also hungry, and the snack bar has a better than average choice. I plump for pie and peas and walk around the pitch to stand near the corner flag. There may be only two steps, but this stand is covered and a couple of metres back. Much of the home support is behind this goal, Leek kicking this way first half. It’s a plastic pitch, which is of no advantage to the home side, as Leek have won one and lost 5 league games thus far. Indeed, hosting bottom of the table Warrington Rylands, they make it 6 defeats in 7, losing nil-one and having a penalty saved to boot.
Pie eaten, I wander round the pitch, beer in hand. Another small cover runs most of the length of the touchline, while a couple of steps level with the edge of the penalty area provides a nice little pew to watch the teams struggle. Neither team are especially great passers, but the plastic pitch removes any jeopardy. Rylands win it with a scrambled effort just after half-time. Ben Hardcastle is credited, though it looked an own goal to me, as the defender fell over himself trying to clear. The kind of goal that this kind of game deserved.
Thereafter, Leek laid siege to Warrington’s half, if not their goal. Rylands retreated, got men behind the ball, and Leek had no idea how to break it down. Their one chance was the penalty, given when a header then unintentionally came off a defender’s arm while his back was to the attacker. Harsh, but ‘the silhouette’ did for him. A low effort was saved by the keeper, and that was about it, save for me enjoying the last 20 or so minutes from the comfort of the stand. As I walked out, I could hear discussion among the 10 or so away fans as to who’d be washing the kit this week. ‘I can’t. I’m away.’ Likely story.
Oh, and I didn’t go back over the Peaks. Drove through Macc (whose floodlights were still on from their game) and the edge of Manchester. Much less hair-raising.
The Damage:
£12 ent
£3 prog
£3.50 pie and peas
£5 Krombacher (pint of)
= £23.50
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