It’s not much better opposite, as there’s one step of terracing, then the wall backing onto gardens. Still, at least there’s a roof all down this touchline, and with a crowd of just over 1,100, the ground is nearly half full yet isn’t empty anywhere. I love this place!
The bulk of the capacity lies at either end, as tall structures lie behind paddocks. Just like the good old days. And there’s some kind of unofficial segregation going on too, as visitors Spenny dominate the far end, while the Mariners ensconce themselves at this end, where you enter the ground.
Mind, Kev’s done some spadework at the turnstiles. A sign says it’s £18 in. Kev swears it’s £16.50 online and duly does the business, spending 10 minutes to save three quid for the pair of us. What amazes me is how nobody else is doing it. And when we get to the turnstile, the operator takes one look at our QR code and asks if we’ve just bought them. How can he tell!?
Just as good, there’s a swanky social club on the corner, ‘1894 Bistro and Bar’, which is accessible from both inside, and outside, the ground. Thankfully, the kiosk behind the goal hasn’t got its crap lager taps going yet and we’re stuck behind a gate as the teams come out. As the gate re-opens and we’re allowed towards the corner flag, I spy a number of fans turning the corner to avoid the footie action. I know what these lads are up to, I think, and follow.
Sure enough, we’re in the ‘1894’ and wonder of wonders, they’ve got Erdinger in tap. The Klopp effect? Less wondrous, a small noise is identified as a visitors’ goal (it was, 0-1). I blame Kev for the 10 minute hold-up, but he’s even more annoyed. He hates Spenny. Then thee barman starts whooping. The big screen reports on Everton going ahead. Nobody else remarks.
Back out in the real world, we walk the touchline, trying to dodge fans and not spill our pints. After toying with a young steward that I’d dare climb the camera gantry for a better view (or, indeed, A view), we find daylight in line with the far penalty area. Hereon there be dragons, or Spennymoor fans. ‘Pride of County Durham’ (their words). ‘Spendymore’ (Kev’s). Bankrolled to their artificially high position, never let it not be said that they’re a lower league MK Dons, buying a club (Evenwood) and supplanting their position in the (Northern) League. Plus they play in black and white stripes (though not today).
Another bonus of the Marine Travel Arena is that you can balance your beer on the perimeter fence. And we do – till one of them pesky players nearly boots a ball at us. (He’s been hearing what Kev has to say about them.) These are two teams on the edge of the play-offs, but there’s only one team in it. Spenny nail a second with a goal from a narrow angle at the home end. Could the keeper have done better? Well, he couldn’t have done worse.
And that’s it for the scoring, though Ramshaw spurns the chance of a hattrick in the second half by not connecting properly. An easier chance than the one he scored. The second one he scored. I couldn’t comment on the first one.
By now we’re in the upper tier, behind the goal, with the Spenny fans. Kev has treated me to the milkiest of teas, and after spending a minute considering whether to complain, or be British, I elect for the former. I’d have hated myself otherwise. It wouldn’t be so bad, I only rea lly wanted it to warm my hands, and it couldn’t even do that. I return to the refreshment shed to see the shutter being closed, but I WILL HAVE MY WAY and politely (honest!) explain that this tea is undrinkable and I’d like a new one. She gives me a new one, with much less milk, yet still too much milk. These northerners, eh? (Me, not her.) I like my tea to taste of...tea. Strong, not much milk.
Pre-match, we are treated to a minute’s round of applause for the remarkable Roly Howard, former Marine manager, who died this week. He was the longest serving manager in English football (1972-2005) with 1,975 games under his belt. You’d think he’d have seen out another 25, but I suspect there was a very good reason for not doing so. R.I.P. Rory.
Oh, and we went to the seaside to see the Gormleys on Crosby Beach. Marvellous!
The Damage:
£16.50 ent
£2.50 programme
£5.30 Erdinger
= £24.30
