Clitheroe v Leek Town

There were no signs of Premiership Football taking place in Wigan when I went to get to my train from Wallgate. There was only one Policeman at the station and not a single one of the 5,000 Mackems who were coming to town. There was no getting away from Premiership football when I got to Bolton though and I had to endure a large group of Arsenal fans, who were making their way to Ewood Park. Indeed, there is nothing like a bit of anti-Semitic singing to get the afternoon off to a good start.

I got on the train from Bolton to Clitheroe and managed to get a seat eventually, amidst the hoardes of Arsenal fans and, for some reason, 30 teenagers of got on the train at Darwen. I guess there’s not much to keep the kids entertained in that particular town, I guess it was because Darwen in the Northern West Counties League Division One weren’t at home. Obviously. The train emptied after Blackburn and I looked out on to the Pennine Moors as the train travelled into Clitheroe.

I managed to find the ground, eventually. I was a little bit complacent in thinking that Clitheroe was only a small place and a quick glance at Google Maps would be enough to see me on my way, but I was wrong. Into the ground I paid £7, plus £1.50 for a programme and £1 for a raffle ticket. The programme had stuff to read in it, which was nice; it was one with a colour cover that’s the same for every match and then black and white LaserJet insides, lovely. The raffle prize was 2 bottles of wine; I don’t begrudge a club like Clitheroe an extra quid though.

The ground comprises of an eclectic range of various stands and structures, with a pitch that sloped from side to side. The backdrop to the ground was also interesting, with views to the Pennine Moors, Clitheroe’s Castle, plus old and new housing.

A local asked me who I was writing for, as I had my pad and pen out, but I told him myself and it was for a blog. He told me that I would be writing about a Clitheroe win. Little did he know the kind of stuff I was writing down ‘Sloping pitch, stands, funny accents’.

The teams entered the pitch to ‘Sally Cinnamon’ by Stone Roses, I don’t know if there is any relevance to that, or whether it was just the song that was on at the time. The teams lined up and did that shaking hands bollocks, that seems to dog the game at all levels. I just don’t get it myself. Clitheroe were in Blue and White hoops and Leek Town in their change kit of red and black stripes. If I was ten years old, I would have decided that I was watching QPR v AC Milan, but, I’m not ten.

In the East Lancashire sunshine, both teams had countless chances. Clitheroe got plenty of good crosses in, but didn’t seem to have anyone their to tap them in. I stood, for most of the first half on what I would call the pop side, terracing all down one side, all under cover. The Clitheroe fans and their flags gathered here, in good voice shouting for Cli’ro. The visitors from Leek Town were also in good voice. One of the home fans decided to nip behind the fence adjacent to the stand and have a piss behind a fence, at least I think that’s what he was doing. I didn’t get a photo.

At half time, I got a cup of tea from the Grub Tub and sat in one of the structures opposite the pop side. I then spent most of the second half behind the goal that Clitheroe were attacking. They scored on 66 minutes when Johnson put a lovely finish on the end of a pass from the right, from about 10 metres out. After that, most of the momentum seemed to go Leek’s way and the Staffordshire team equalised on 83 minutes when Miller’s shot went across goal and in off the post. Both sets of fans got behind their teams in the closing minutes, but there will now be a replay at Leek on Tuesday night as the game finished 1-1. I will be keeping an eye on that.

I travelled back to Wigan via Blackburn and Preston, seeing plenty more Arsenal fans and a handful of Sunderland fans. I enjoyed my day out into the sticks, I would say I got my monies worth. It certainly was an interesting ground with bags of character and a strange array of stands. It will probably be the last game I go to until October now, so probably the last game with conditions that vaguely resemble summer.

And here are some photos:

Next Stop: Clitheroe

I think on Saturday, I shall make Clitheroe my next port of call. I imagine that it is a good place to go on a sunny afternoon, I've been to the town before to the Castle and I spotted the football ground from there.

There is a snag though. I did aim to go to a game at every level in the pyramid at this level, well the game on Saturday is an FA Cup qualifier. The first qualifying round proper, where Clitheroe of the Unibond 1st Division North play Leek Town of the Unibond 1st Division South.

Both teams are near the top of their respective divisions, so it should be a good game. Indeed Leek Town seem to have fallen from grace a little bit, being a Conference team not so long ago. I don't know too much about Clitheroe though, apart from that I imagine it'd be a good place to go on a sunny afternoon.

Obviously I'm picking games for the right reason. Bring on the magic of the cup!

Farsley Celtic v Stalybridge Celtic

The first day of the intrepid adventure thrust itself upon me and I thrust myself upon the Moon Under Water, the Wigan Wetherspoons pub. I went to line my stomach ahead of the day's transpennine trip and because a Wetherspoons breakfast is always good when one is slightly hungover.
I didn't think that I endeared myself to the punters in there very well. Coffee and a vegetarian breakfast isn't exactly de rigueur, when everyone else is drinking pints at 9:20 in the morning, on their own. I stopped short of buying a 'quality' newspaper though, buying one later.

The train journey from Wigan to Leeds, via Piccadilly was largely uneventful apart from realising I'd left my glasses at home when I was halfway between Wigan and Hindley, getting molested by an Alsatian was another event. I then returned to my family home in Horsforth, before travelling by car to the ground. I'd like to think that this will be the last bit of car travel that any other visits to games will see, its more fun/challenging/interesting using public transport.

And so to the game and the mighty Throstle Nest. I find it hard to make observations about the Nest, cos I've been attending games there for about 15 years. From being an annoying 9 year old, to becoming a discernible football follower. There was both groups of people there and all kinds of people inbetween. I went to the game with my dad, his friend Stuart and my ladyfriend Sara. Sara has grown to accept that a day out at a non-league football game is a very romantic event. I also met Graham from my work who is a Stalybridge Celtic fan, he opted for the changing ends option so I didn't see him when the game was in place. We stood with a small enclave of Farsley fans by the half-way line and the cage from where the players emerge. Most of these blokes are aged 50 upwards, seem to have seen so much down at the Nest and have some excellent things to shout at the referee and opposition players, I think every non-league ground has such people.

Despite the deluge of rain that come the night before, the pitch was looking good and most of the game was played in sunshine. Observations on the opposition were that they were sponsered by a hand sanitizer (a festival essential) and their no.6 reminded me of Tony Adams, I think it was the haircut or perhaps the fact that my glasses were sat at home in Wigan. The Tony Adams bloke, took a knock in the eye in the first half, telling a Farsley fan it was an eyelash in his eye. Another highlight was Stalybridge's no.3 throwing a tantrum 'fuck off, its our ball ref!'. He got booked for that and also got the home fans giving him what for (me included).

Stalybridge's first goal, came from Farsley been at sixes and sevens but Andy Campbell leveled it a bit later. I was talking at the time and I was surprised to see how the goal was scored, I think it took some deflection or other. I suck at watching football. I read a description of Andy Campbell on an internet messageboard: 'that Ginner who played for Boro and fell out of the ugly tree hitting every branch on the way down', I did spot him from that description I must say. He may not be the most handsome bloke in the well, but he does kick some arse out on the park.

Our second half vantage point was from behind the goal, so my dad could sit down because of his new ankle. There's some strange seats behind the goal that are a legacy from meeting Conference Ground regs, although I think anyone over 4 foot tall would struggle to sit in the seats behind the front row. Another legacy from Farsley's conference spell last season is the segregation fence which separated the Farsley bootboys from the likes of York, Aldershot and Oxford fans.

One of the best things at Farsley is the tannoy man shouting 'GOOOOOAAALLLL' when the home team take the lead. This became 'GOOOOAALLL... WOOOAH...WHAT???', when Farsley had a potential late winner ruled out. Before that though, Walshaw put Farsley ahead after about 55 minutes, coolly slotting the ball under 'bridge's keeper. Stalybridge's equaliser came from a scramble and then their winner came at the death in controversial circumstances. Straight after the aforementioned ruled out goal, 'bridge's goal came from a free kick, which baffled the hoardes of Farsley fans behind the goal. Jubilant scenes amongst the healthy (in terms of amount, obviously) travelling support, not so much for the home fans, who's team are finding it difficult to readjust back down at this level.

I would normally write a conclusion here, but I can't find much to say about a ground I am so familiar with. Having said all that, pictures would have done the job better:

My football adventure!

So, I have decided that this football season, I am going to watch a game at every level of the English Pyramid from the Premiership down to the lower echelons of the North West Counties/Northern/Northern Counties East League.

I currently live in Wigan, which for all its faults, is blessed with its proximity to teams at every level. I am also a Farsley Celtic fan and no stranger to the joys of non-league football. I've wanted to go to a shitload of football games and write about them since I read 'The Far Corner' by Harry Pearson, which is a rather great book. Pearson travels around the North East of England watching matches from the Northern League, all the way up to the Premier League, in 1993/4. Newcastle still had terracing at the Gallowgate end and Sunderland and Middlesbrough were rocking Roker and Ayresome respectively.

I am beginning my football adventure this saturday, at Farsley, which means adventure is a bit of a misnomer as I have been going to Throstle Nest for about 15 years! Also, I don't think I'll go to too many games in Yorkshire either. I'm planning to go to games when I've got nothing to do in Wigan on a saturday afternoon or tuesday night.

So, from Preston to Prescot, Wigan Athletic to Wigan Robin Park, Atherton Colleries to Atherton Laburnum Rovers... I'm gonna do this!