Kev drives the 20 or so minutes to mine and I’ll drive the hour and half to Worksop. He could’ve gone on the Ashton supporters’ coach. It’s an uneventful journey and Satnav Kev gets us to the ground in time enough to find a space in a nearby housing estate 10 minutes’ walk away. The ground itself is busy, a long queue forming outside. It’s half an hour to kick-off, an aeon in my terms. The programmes are sold out. Of course they are. Oddly, we’re channelled through the main building while the adjacent turnstiles remain closed.
Security don’t let us through the internal door into the social club – but the toilet’s down this corridor. He lets me go to the toilet, provided I don’t then slip into the social club. All becomes apparent when we go outside and find the social club queue stretching outside the main door into the ground and virtually to the corner flag. We stand in it till kick-off and barely move. I’m not that bothered about a pint, but am quite willing to let Kev stand there while I crane a neck for a view. It’s packed.
The social club is at one end, and beside it there’s a small covered terrace. Inbetween the terrace and an adjacent small, modern stand towards the corner flag is the tunnel. I see no gaps over here, so, when Kev magically re-appears 25 minutes into the match with an average pint of lager each, we head clockwise to the far end, where there looks to be some, not much, space.
There’s flat standing by the corner flag, leading along the touchline to the main stand, maybe 5 rows of seats that stretch two-thirds the way either side of the halfway line. If there aren’t enough fractions for you there. The stand is full of stanchions, yet doesn’t look all that old. Indeed, the ground as a whole is disappointing. For such a historic non-league side, with excellent gates (700+ even in the 7th tier), I expected more. Nevermind the shenanighans of getting a beer. A plastic pitch doesn’t help either.
We walk down the front of the stand. At the far end there’s a little more flat standing. At the far end, there’s a small stand the width of the pitch. Our hopes are pinned on this, yet when we get there, it turns out there’s ONE step of terracing. What’s the point??? There’s enough space for half a dozen steps. We force our way through the yoof to the other side of the goal, where we can finally get a decent view of the action.
Kev, always on the lookout for ex-Darlo, points out the Worksop centre forward, Laim Hughes, a beast of a specimen, with the tattoos to match. Turns out the last he was heard of in Darlo was when a coke deal went wrong. He never did get much chance to make an impression in the north-east (beyond the local crime scene) but smashes in the opener here, right in front of us.
Half-time arrives and with Worksop kicking the other way, we manage to gain some space, as the home fans decide to squeeze into the opposite, packed end, to be replaced by 20 or so vociferous Ashton fans. And virtually on the hour Ashton equalise, a bullet header sending the hordes into raptures. United have been more in the game this half, but it still comes as a surprise. What will happen if it’s a draw? Penalties? Extra-time?
We don’t find out. Sadly, favourites Worksop bag another goal on 76 to win the game and gain home advantage in the play-off final (which would have been against Stockton, but after beating Guiseley they were disqualified for playing an ineligible player…who they thought was eligible – sent off on the last day of the season, they didn’t think his ban kicked in till a week later. Careless.)
And the highlight? That was yet to come. Driving out of the housing estate, I had to stop to let someone cross the road. A hedgehog. I LOVE hedgehogs!
The Damage:
£13 ent
= £13
No comments:
Post a Comment