Gateshead 1-1 Eastleigh, Tuesday 6th February 2024

Gateshead 1-1 Eastleigh, National League, Gateshead International Stadium, att. 855 (14 away)

It’s midweek and I’m up in the north-east on business. I considered the Northern League, but I’ve been reading an article about Gateshead’s possession-based football leading to manager Mike Williamson being poached last month by MK Dons (booooooo!). And with The Heed challenging for a play-off spot, times haven’t been this good for a while. Plus it’s an easy half an hour up the A1 from my abode. That’s the thing about where I live now, in the West Yorkshire Pennines...you get nowhere fast. From Ferryhill in County Durham, there must be 50 grounds within half an hour or so.

With a smallish crowd expected, there’s no problem getting parked in the academy adjacent to the stadium. Free too, which is just as well as I’m stung for twenty quid admission. 20 quid? That’s what I paid to see Everton v Palace in the cup the other week. Still, this’ll be a better game to watch. Easy in, and, as mostly, only one stand open, the Tyne and Wear (West) Stand. It’s a large propped cantilever stand which affords great views despite the running track, due to its steepness.

A similar stand lies opposite, albeit with only the skeleton of a roof frame. When the opposition bring numbers, it’s open. Tonite, Eastleigh bring fourteen whole supporters, and well done them, I could hear them. Behind either goal are more open seats, with the north end being slightly larger. I’m not sure when they’ll ever be used again. Does Gateshead still host Diamond League athletics meetings, now we have the ‘London Stadium’, nee the 2012 Olympic Stadium? I dunno, I don’t really follow athletics.

Pre-match, I head for the ‘Old Goat’s Bar’ under the stand, for a craft ale refresher. Last time it had a few choices from a local brewer. Not this evening. It’s Stella or Strongbow (dark or original...wooo!) or some other non-descript beverage. I decide to keep my powder dry and pick a pew. I could enjoy a padded VIP seat on the halfway line, but I choose a higher perch, for the view, just in front of a stanchion.

The game is a throwback. In the modern era, where the high press rules, Eastleigh simply retreat into their own half every time they lose possession, which is every time. Gateshead easily enjoy over 80% possession, but despite the probling of midfield pair Whelan and Francis, Eastleigh’s rigid defensive lines of a 5 and 3 are difficult to thread a pass through. They also cede the wide areas to Gateshead, confident that any delivery will be comprehensively cleared. And this works for 95 minutes (Eastleigh one up before the hour with a rare counter attack).

Then, with seconds to spare (the minimum 5 mins of injury time the ref had signalled is up), a corner is lofted in and the ref points to the spot. No-one in the stand has any idea what the offence is, and only one Spitfire (great nickname) complains until he’s booked. Foul? A push? Handball? I have no idea, and neither do two other blokes I listen in on as I leave. But who cares. Gateshead snatch the point as Luke Hannant despatches the pen, reward for an interesting piece in the programme. Although in his second spell with The Heed, he initially came to the north-east to study (choosing Newcastle cos it had the best nightlife!) and, after a spell in the Northern League for Northumbria University, was spotted and signed. Good on the lad, it lead to a spell at Port Vale and now he’s back as an influential older head.

The Damage:
£20 ent
£3 programme
= £23

FC Halifax Town 1-2 Chesterfield, Tuesday 24th May 2022

Halifax 1-2 Chesterfield, National League Play-off, Shay Stadium, att. 5,661

The National League play-offs and a final game of the season. A last chance to stand in traffic on the M62 and miss kick-off, a chance I took with both hands. Even then, getting off at Halifax, the two lanes soon halved due to more roadworks. A sign said lane closed in 600 yards, but rather than pull in and sit angrily as queue jumpers do what they do best, I sat in the soon to be closed lane (well, 600 yards later closed) and crawled along beside another car. I don’t think I’ve ever been car-horned like this before (by the wannabe queue-jumpers) but I rather enjoyed it. Even then, when the flash car immediately behind pulled in, he tried to ensure I couldn’t eventually pull in by being so close to the car in front (the one I’d crawled beside). Shame for him then that said car let me in, in front of him. (As an aside, I’ve read that traffic flows quicker if drivers do queue jump, but this sits uneasily with me, and, I hope, every other driver who pulls in when they see signs for a closed lane, only to be overtaken by queue-jumpers, who, I presume, haven’t read the same article as me on traffic management and are just being twunts.) Anyway, glad I got that off my chest.

Halifax. I can’t believe I’ve never been, to the ground or the place. It doesn’t help that they’ve been non-league since 2002. Seems like only yesterday they were perennial re-election favourites along with Darlington and Hartlepool. However, in 2008 they went bust and reformed as FC Halifax Town. This season sees their highest position since reforming, 4th place gaining them a place in the convoluted National League play-off system, where 4th plays 7th, 5th plays 6th, then the winners play away at 2nd or 3rd, with the winners playing the final. I’m not sure I agree with a system that gives promotion to a side in 7th, but Chesterfield grasp it with both hands, deservedly winning 2-1 on the night. They’ll now play 3rd placed Solihull Moors, away, for a chance to get beaten in the final by Wrexham or Grimsby (who progressed at Notts County last night with an injury time equaliser and 119th minute winner). Capiche?

Tonight’s game certainly attracted a crowd, over five and half thousand (Halifax’s average attendance this season: 2,130). Mind, it helped having 2,063 visitors, as well as sundry groundhoppers (I spotted 3 people I know). Shay Stadium (née ‘The Shay’) is quite smart these days too, a far cry from its tenure as a ramshackle speedway stadium. Two large (by modern English standards), covered terraces envelope either end, while a newish Main Stand also provides unencumbered views. The only stanchions are contained in the Skircoat Stand, the only remnant of the speedway days and now the seated area for away fans. This stand covers maybe two-thirds of the touchline, giving an overall stadium capacity of over 14,000.

Driving in, I passed The Shay, so at least I knew how far it was to walk. I eventually found somewhere to park the other side of the railway station, about 10 minutes away, so not too bad. I missed less of the game than I expected. Checking my wallet, I only had 20 quid, so lucky I raided the soap dish full of change in the car – it was £21 to get in. No programmes though. There never are by the time I arrive. The long queue at the turnstiles which I’d passed earlier had now disappeared and I was straight into the home terrace. Plenty of space, even given Halifax’s biggest crowd in an age.

Good atmosphere too, helped in part by the referee and a crackers 5 minute period around the half hour mark. 4 awful tackles, 3 yellow cards…and a home side baying for red. Later on, in the pub, Halifax fans mused on how the guy who scored the winning goal should have been sent off. Isn’t it strange how these things come back to bite you? The ref did his best though, and it was Chesterfield fans who were goading him with ‘You’re not fit to referee’ in the 2nd half, as they desperately clung on after Halifax pulled one back for 1-2. There were still 20 minutes left, but, in truth, the home side fell short. An excellent game for the neutral, I topped it off with a half at the Three Pigeons – Salt Jute session IPA. I wish I could have stayed for more, but I had another 2 hours’ drive in front of me. I can muse over what a season it’s been; the worst Barnsley FC season in my memory, only seeing 3 away games (thank god), visiting every Northern League ground at least once and ticking off Barrow and Harrogate in the league. And my dad passing away after 2 years of illness. Perhaps next season will be back to normal…whatever ‘normal’ is

The Damage:
£21 ent
£4 burger
= £25

The Tunes:
Jarvis (Jarvis Cocker)
The Voltarol Years (Half Man Half Biscuit)
Sometimes I Might Be Introvert (Little Simz)

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

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

Welcome to ...

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.

Welcome to ....(II)

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.

Leyton Orient 2-0 AFC Fylde, Tuesday 26th March 2019

Leyton Orient 2-0 AFC Fylde, National League, att. 4,696

Welcome to ....

Tonite is a bit off the beaten track for me, a cheeky midweek match on schoolnite.  But what brings me to my old stomping ground of Leyton?  Well, my mate Loko actually knows one of the linesmen through his work and so he’s procured free tickets.  Brilliant!  Guests of the referee’s assistant.  This is a new one on me.

Oi!  Linesman!  Keep up.

Of course, the linesman is too professional to meet us pre-match for beers.  Initially we went to the Leyton Technical, basically a pub in the old town hall (where I used to live; long story).  Leyton was crying out for a decent pub when I lived in a flat around the corner, but as soon as I move out…(well, as I say, I lived in the town hall…they could hardly turn it into a pub while I lived there).  But it’s quality, and actually only takes up part of the downstairs. 

Not the Leyton Technical, but the West Stand exec bar.  For us execs.

We leave early for the ground though.  Loko wants to see Orient’s social club, pick up a few tips for Oakwell (Barnsley) and the certificates behind the bar tell the story.  The social club has won more awards than Leyton Orient!  A quid or two to get in, then a range of real ales, all in the ground floor of the towering West Stand.  It appeared to be open to anyone, though it was doubtful there were any away fans in there, AFC Fylde barely brought a dozen to the game.

Leyton Orient's award-winning social club.

Then it was into the West Stand to bag our freebies, behind none other than Barry Fry in the queue.  I bet he gets about a bit.  The lower division Harry Redknapp, if ever there was one.  Another treat was a teamsheet.  I presume your name doesn't have to begin with 'J' to play for the Orient...but it helps.  Joe, Josh, Jobi, James, another Josh, Jamie...with James, another James and Jay on the bench.  This must be some sort of record.  It must be working too: Orient are marching to the title.

Sign welcoming us big knobs into the West Stand.

Fylde, in amongst the leading pack and contenders for the play-offs, put up little resistance against a team on the cusp.  A goal down after 15, the match was effectively all over after 24 minutes when Bonne scored a penalty.  Otherwise, all that was left was giving our linesman some ‘advice’ during the game, probably to the bemusement of the home support, as no-one else was giving him grief.  We were only teasing.  And he got his beer later (but only one; he’s professional!)

The Damage:
free ent
beers?  Can’t remember, but only had one in the ground.


The Tunes:
none

I remember when that was a large terrace.

The penalty for 2-0.

Looking towards the (main) home end.

The Fylde hordes.

The old main stand.

Match action.

A personal fave; the social club carpet.

A blurred panorama.  Sorry, best my camera can do at night.