Acomb Gateway United v St Paul's Pilgrims
Dringhouses v Church Fenton White Horse
Tadcaster Magnets v Riccall United
Yorkshire Amateur v Pontefract Collieries
Yorkshire v Hampshire
No longer being on-call meant I wasn't hindered by having to stay local, so I had a day out in Scotland planned. But then the Northern Trains conductors called a strike for today, with the skeleton service that was operating curtailing in the very early evening, so I had to stay local anyway.
So a few games around York and Leeds. The Calder Valley route between Halifax and Todmorden already had engineering works on, so was a bus operation anyway, operating in its booked schedules, so was the one part of the Northern network that did run from booked start of service to the end. Anyway, here is the inside of a coach leaving Sowerby station.
This took us onto Halifax, where an hourly train service was operating to Leeds, using managers as conductors. As a manager on the railway, emotions are split as to having guards on trains. In this day and age, there is absolutely no requirement to have a guard doing the doors or other safety critical duties, as testified by a large part of the railway being driver only operation. However, the vast salary increases managers have experienced since privatisation, have come from the staff grades getting excellent pay rises due to being able to threaten to bring the railway to a halt through strike action. So on one hand having guards makes the day job more challenging, but on the other hand, it means we get paid a lot more. The moral dilemmas of the modern workplace.
This was the first train I've been on that stopped at Low Moor, a new station between Halifax and Bradford, that opened this week, having only taken three years to build.
Into Leeds, with the footbridge giving perfect lighting conditions for photography.
It was onto a TransPennine Express service. This was heading for Scarborough, which is normally the quietest of the TPE services, but being the first sunny Saturday of the year, had attracted the hoards for a day out on the coast.
Despite it being busy, a particularly resilient enforcement of first class by the guard, meant I had a table to myself as we passed the sports club at Dringhouses, but more of that later.
Heading onto the Scarborough branch meant we used the main trainshed at York, with the locals escaping to the coast, obviously fearful of the usual Saturday invasion when half of Teeside empty out of their Wetherpoons and come to York to fight each other or to be pulled out face first from the Derwent in a 'drink related pranks that took a tragic turn for the worst' which is the standard Monday morning quote of the North Yorkshire Police.
Being equally keen to avoid Whinney Banks on tour, I headed away from the centre, with one lamp post giving me a vary varied selection of possible destinations.
And far out activity at one of them.
Though this was the most tempting, an unexpected discovery of York Council's tractor collection.
But this was where I was going, the Knavesmire common land.
Which houses this.
Not for this though. I can't believe people spend so much money just to see which horse is quicker than another? It is almost as though that isn't the prime purpose of horse racing.
My destination certainly didn't require use of this.
And here it is. No, not the field of hybrids for the tree huggers who were off buying magic crystals at the healing festival, but the football in the background.
One of the stranger access routes to a game, ducking under the railings and across the finishing straight of a race track.
Acomb Gateway United 2 v St Paul's Pilgrims 2, Yorkshire Christian Football League - Division 1
Acomb was a village to the west of York, but the opening of a railway works filled in the gap between the two, and it is now a suburb of the city. In latter years, the works specialised in building multiple units for BR. If you are travelling on a shit old train in Britain, chances are it was built in Acomb. Gateway church is in the centre of Acomb and is named after the supermarket that merged with Safeway. The football club were formed in 2010 and won the league last season. This is actually the reserve team, but as the league don't allow them, they are nominally a separate team called united.
The Knavesmire was a flood plain adjacent to the main road into York from the south. It was public land as was used from Roman times for horse racing, though the track didn't officially open until the 1730s. A hundred years later, it was where football was first played in the city, with friendly games against Leeds.
Football continues to be played here, with four pitches in the centre of the circuit, this game being played on the furthest.
The pitches are overlooked by the racing stands. On the right is the 1965 grandstand. This was joined by the Melrose stand in 1989 and the Knavesmire Stand in 1996, and then finally the Ebor Stand in 2003, to give the course a spectator capacity of 60,000. That's a lot of coked up estate agents.
Another churches league @keepers_towel.
The second half started in a normal manner. There was intricate passing, that went higher than the blokes model plane.
Someone else completely sliced a cross, making the bloke who had turned and jumped to block it, look really stupid.
However, it then took a very surreal turn, in that it started to be a perfect re-enactment of the game from Kes.
Firstly, while the game went on normally, one of the players was hanging from the crossbar? Casper, who do you think you are lad, an ape?
Then secondly, came the drama. The game had been played in a very friendly manner, and the ref didn't appear to be over fussy. However, one of the home sides used the phrase 'leave it' to one of his own players. Which the ref took umbrage at.
So he booked the player. And now it was the players turn to take umbrage.
So much so that he got sent off. He wants bleedin' milkin'. That big fat git!
However, the ref decided that he was going to enforce premier league standard rules, and said that he would abandon the game if the bloke didn't leave the park.
- What did you say? What did you say?
- Nowt, sir.
- Get off! In that changin' room! Get off!
After taking a few steps on his way out, the outgoing player had time to gather his thoughts and in a very strange exchange, pointed out to the ref that this was common land, so he had every right to stay. I have to say, an argument between a sent off player and a referee, about the enforcement of the Inclosure Acts, is a new one on me.
- I didn't say nowt, sir.
- Off!
Eventually his team mates persuaded him that yes, within the parameters of The Commonable Rights Compensation Act of 1882, he was not only within his rights to remain where he was, but also to facilitate livestock grazing and crop rotation, however, this probably wasn't the best option, so maybe he should just go.
- It's not fair! They never get sent off!
- I shall be up there in a minute!
And so, like Kevin Moran at the 1985 cup final, off he trudged on the long walk to the changing rooms, but without the consoling arm of Jim McGregor.
- They never get sent off, sir.
- Off!
But with the script now moving on to the fat kid who looks like Peter Kay, playing slaps our hero made his way off, for now at least.
The game restarted.
But uh-oh, who's this re-appearing?
It seems our man was locked out of the changing rooms, and, considerably calmer, had come back for the key. However, the ref got involved again, and demanded that he not be given the key. Now I don't know what the referees day job is, but I'm pretty sure it isn't ACAS mediation official or police hostage negotiator, because on being asked why the player couldn't have the key, the refs response was that the player was either going to smash up the changing rooms or rob something. Cue the player going nuts for a second time, but this time with the other 21 players now having some sympathy for him, pointing out that if you have sent a player off and demand that he returns to the dressing rooms, it is a bit harsh to then not let him have the key for them.
The compromise was that someone would escort the player to the changing rooms, but the only non-players were the two subs who were running the line, a five year old kid on a BMX, and me, a complete stranger.
So in a move akin to the fox/chicken/bag of grain puzzle, one of the subs did the chaperoning, and I ended up running the line. Somehow, the kid managed to stay out of it.
Ever wanted to see a really calamitous own goal from the exact viewpoint of a linesman who is 15 foot behind play? Well here it is.
The other bloke eventually returned from his warden duties and I was free to wander again. Checking out the linesman on the other side made me feel better about my efforts. Notice how play is on the goal line of the half he is officiating, yet he is still stood on the half way line, looking the other way.
The game continued in a fairly subdued manner. To add to the strangeness, the record crowd for this location wasn't for either football or horse racing, but instead for the 150,000 people who turned up for the public hanging of Dick Turpin.
Acomb missed a series of clear chances.
Until with almost the last kick of the game, the St Paul's keeper ran straight into one of his defenders, with the ball rolling to an opposition forward who slid the ball into an empty goal.
There was just enough time for the game to kick off, but not enough time for the keeper to get up again, or for anyone to check to see if he was still alive, before the final whistle was blown.
The miscreant from earlier had returned again, this time because he realised he was getting a lift to his afternoon game with the right midfielder, and helped out getting the nets down in the time honoured way.
With a very entertaining first game of the day over, I headed off, making a note in the diary of this charity event. I can't do enough for Romanian Animal Rescue, especially when there is a 'Name the Dog' competition.
It was a very short walk to my next game, where both Dringhouses' first and second teams were due to play on the only pitch in the complex, so an early kick off for the first team in the York league.
Dringhouses 1 v 0 Church Fenton White Horse 0, Minster Engineering York League - Premier Division
Dringhouses was a Viking settlement that over the years has become a southern suburb of York. The football club are long established in the local York leagues, though trying to get any gen on them is quite hard. They have won the York league more times than any other club.
Church Fenton is a small village south of York. It is the only passing place for trains between York and Leeds and I spend most of my day job telling Network Rail that a Northern service should have been held there. White Horse is a pub in the village, and the football team are currently having their most successful spell in their history, having risen up from division 2 in the last few years, after almost disbanding.
The Dringhouses Sports and Social Club complex is very well kept and has a cricket and football pitch.
The football pitch is at the far end of the wedge shaped grounds.
Being a senior league, it is required that spectators are segregated from the pitch, which always produces novel solutions. In this case a rope attached to a trolley, which was stopped from toppling over by placing a dustbin on it with a step ladder in it.
Down the touchline, even more novel, some sort of mouse-trap style escapade involving a trip wire and a fishing keep net.
Which was actually more likely to be for retrieving balls from the stream that ran behind the touchline.
The away side had chosen to have their team talk on the pitch. These really are a load of bollocks. It was just a collection of meaningless phrases, pretty much "You've got to hold and give, but do it at the right time, you can be slow or fast but you must get to the line". My favourite bit was when he told his players "I don't expect you to play like fucking Barcelona". Well, that cleared that up.
The home side emerged, no doubt after similar wise words.
The usual handshakes were accompanied by the usual site of the keeper not noticing them and sprinting to join the back of the queue, like a conga fanatic at a party, who's just come out of the bogs, and noticed that Black Lace are already playing.
I was relived to see a more poulous 15 strong crowd, plenty of more likely linesmen than me, if the requirement occurs again.
Included in them was this quite fantastic umbrella. It almost makes you not notice the lime green body warmer. Notice the make do seating on the right. As I always say, there could be a 5,000 capacity cantilever stand at the ground, and still someone would choose to sit on that roller.
For those who were good enough to keep in mind the observation from my train ride from earlier, this was the reason for choosing the game, an opportunity for some @nonleague_train. To start with a TransPennine Express 1E85 1122 Liverpool Lime Street to Scarborough, strengthened to a double set due to the inward working taking people into Liverpool for the grand national.
Next was Virgin Trains East Coast (who are infact 90% owned by Satgecoach) and 1S15 1130 London Kings Cross to Edinburgh, running a minute late but getting to see the home side attack.
Cross Country get in on the act with 1E32 0945 Reading to Newcastle, a minute late and not getting to see any action.
The home teams assistant manager emerges from the bench to get a better view of 1E12 1100 Edinburgh to London Kings Cross. And a free kick for his team.
A southbound Country with 1V89 1235 Newcastle to Reading passing the Church Fenton keeper, and in seven minutes time, will pass though Church Fenton station.
The return working of the set I had got from Leeds earlier, now working 1F88 1250 Scarborough to Liverpool Lime Street.
The longest journey of any train in the UK, as 1V60 0820 Aberdeen to Penzance is one mile shy of the mid point of the 774 mile trip, getting to its destination at 2140 that evening.
Oh, there was a goal for the home side, but it wasn't infront of a train, so I'm not sure if they count?
So how about the second longest UK rail journey, and a namer as well. A VTEC HST is spied in the gap in the hedge on 1S16 1200 London Kings Cross to Inverness, running five minutes late on the 583 mile journey of the 'Highland Chieftain'.
The game ended 1-0, maintaining Dringhouses second position, behind Wiggington Grasshoppers.
The next move was also ultra-convenient, a two minute walk took me to the bus stop, and onto the 843 'Coast Liner' service, which runs from Scarborough to Leeds via York.
This took me to Tadcaster, with this being a great picture of the the Ings Lane home of Tadcaster Albion, who are the town's senior club.
But I wasn't interested in their Billy big bollocks step 8 Northern Counties Eastern league, I carried on past the centre, alighting on the southern outskirts for some step 11 action.
This was a new ground for me, and from what I'd seen in pictures, looked very scenic, but the initial sights weren't promising.
Nor was the fact that I could only find a bowls club, but eventually, right around the back of the club house...
...this could be found.
Tadcaster Magnets 1 v Riccall United, Minster Engineering York League - Premier Division
I've spent a lot of time doing hands on research into both beer and non-league, however I've still never worked out Tadcaster Magnets. The reason being is that Tadcaster is dominated by one thing; brewing. This is/was the home of John Smiths, who's logo is a magnet and one of their trademark ales was called magnet. But I've never worked out if the magnet was adopted by John Smiths because it was relevant to the town, or if the town adopted it from the beer. Anyway, the football team were called Magnet Sports, then got promotion to the West Yorkshire League whereby they had to add the geographical reference to the name, but dropped back down to the York League a few seasons ago.
Riccall is a village to the north of Selby, which rather strangely, had a coal boom in the 1980s when it was at the centre of the newly found Selby coalfield. Bloody Thatcher. The football club were formed pre WW1, originally in the Selby and District but by 1919 had joined the York and District. They have been one of the top teams ever since, with the 1970s being their golden era with four league titles and not finishing outside the top three in the whole decade. But despite all that, the best fact about them is that their record appearance holder is called Bill Bills.
This is another complex shared with between a cricket and a football pitch.
Once again, the football pitch is at the far end.
However, this does mean you get to walk past the absolutely exquisite cricket pavilion.
Down one touchline is the old railway embankment. This was a line that connected Harrogate and Church Fenton, and was the route of many London express trains that used to go via Harrogate and Ripon. However, it was closed in 1966.
The pitch is right on the edge of the town, and borders farmland, with lovely blossoming trees surrounding the pitch.
Looking back into town, and the sky line is dominated by the historic John Smith's brewery. It is still in use, but now knocks out whatever dirge that current owners Heineken are inflicting on people. Usually Deuchars.
The more modern part of the brewery abuts one half of the touchline.
Anyway, a bloke jumped.
Another bloke ran into the barrier and bent it.
Riccall took the lead, and got a couple more.
Tadcaster did get a goal back, but it finished 1-3 to the visitors.
To add to the confusion, I'd assume that the ground was the sports and social club for John Smiths. However, it was a Theakston's tie, which made it even more (old) peculier.
It was back to the bus stop, and onto another Leeds bound Coastliner, with the brewery on the right.
As this one had only started at York, it was relatively empty and I'd got the prime top deck/front seats to myself, as we headed through the foothills of the Wapentake of Skyrack.
I was finishing off the day with the last couple of hours at the cricket. The best way to get there was to jump off on the outskirts of Leeds...
...where a town service heads across the northern suburbs, direct to Headingley.
However, I remembered that this was also the bus that takes you up to NCEL side Yorkshire Amateur. A quick check revealed they were playing at home, so I jumped off.
A minutes walk took me here.
Yorkshire Amateur 2 v Pontefract Collieries 1, Toolstation Northern Counties East League - Division 1
Yorkshire Amateur were formed in 1918 with the intention of becoming the leading amateur side in the north. They joined the Yorkshire legaue and to match their lofty ambitions, took on the lease of Elland Road after the disgraced Leeds City side were disbanded. However, the lure of £250 from the newly formed Leeds United saw them give up the ground, and with it their grand dreams, as, a couple of FA cup appearances aside, they have remained at the Yorkshire league/NCEL level ever since.
Like most NCEL locations, Pontefract is a mining town that no longer has any mines. Its current claim to fame is that it is where Harold Shipman started killing people, and is where Haribo do the same in a more obscure way, throught he means of childhood diabetes, as their licorice factory is located there. In terms of football, after a number of predecessors, Pontefract Collieries were formed in the 1950s. They played in the West Yorks league, then moved up to the Yorkshire League, which became the NCEL in the 1980s. Since then they have bounced between the two divisions, without doing too much. The locals are scouse like in their attempts to vandalise the ground, the most noticeable feat being a stand burning down due to an electrical fire, at a time when the club had no electric supply as it was connected to the mains through the adjacent colliery, which had closed.
Bracken Edge was originally a rugby union ground. After departing Elland Road, Amateurs moved around various homes, but the lease here became available in the 1930s and it has been home to them ever since.
A main stand was present on the near touch line, but its woodern construction made it a victim to fire regulations in the late 1980s. Its main replacement is the construction in the near corner, which started as an open terrace, then was covered, and finally had seats added.
Whilst the main stand was on its evolution, a rudimentary cover was added to the social club and changing room.
Behind the far goal is a grass bank, which was attractive in the sun.
The far touchline has been intruded by a five a side court...
...and also these aerials which are industrial like in their construction.
It is another ground that is a bit of an obstacle course to get around.
At the far end, it appeared that the pathway was cordoned off. However, this wasn't the case as when someone moved the bench, it became clear as to what its purpose was, as the box of electronics for the floodlight on the left, promptly fell over as the bench was actually holding it up.
Though there was strict adherence to the 'derelict fitting with an unfathomable purpose' ground grading requirement.
I didn't realise that Subbuteo still existed. Perhaps that's because it has such a niche advertising policy?
Anyway, to the game. A short bloke took a corner.
Another bloke jumped.
And the home side took the lead, infront of the new housing which has sprung up since my last visit and replaced the grass bank behind the goal.
Then the excitement started. From a Pontefract shot, the keeper fumbled, but the forward who went for the rebound was pulled back by a defender.
A lot of people shouted and pushed each other.
But a penalty was given and duly scored to make it 1-1.
30 seconds later, a Pontefract cross and the same forward was held back by the same defender, and after the same shouting and pushing, the same decision by the ref.
However, a different outcome as the keeper made a good save.
From then on it was all Pontefract. Well that was until a long Amateurs clearance saw the goalkeeper and a defender collide heavily...
...and exactly the same as in my first game, the ball fell to a forward who stuck it in the empty net, to make it 2-1 to the home side, which was how the game ended.
So it was back on the bus, an hour later than I was planning, but still in time to get the last hours play at Headingley. Fortunately the bus stops right outside the ground.
Yorkshire v Hampshire, Specsavers County Championship - Division 1
I'd yet to receive my membership card for Yorkshire. When I contacted the club, they apologised and explained that Easter had crept up on them. My reply that the Synod of Whitby took place in 664, so they have known when Easter was for the last 1350 years, didn't illicit any further response other than a letter to print out to bring to the gate, which did the job and got me through.
The exciting development at the ground has been that there are now designated parking spaces for mobility scooters.
I normally give the first county championship game of the season a miss. The reason for this is that it is almost exclusively attended by pensioners who spend the whole time updating each other on what operations they have had over the winter. I got off lightly, with only a perfunctory description of carpal tunnel surgery, and a warning about the dangers of early onset of diverticulitis, which I was enthralled to find out, was the inflammation of outpouches in the colon. I was in time to see Yorkshire lose the last two wickets of their second innings, and set Hampshire 320 win, of which they had got 10 without loss at the close.
It was back to Leeds centre, on a retro Yorkshire Rider liveried First Group bus.
This just made the last train back to Halifax, and onto the connecting bus which got me to Sowerby just as the sun was setting, and with 12 hours to go before being at the same spot, for the same bus, to head back to Headingley for a full days cricket.
Very good piece. Incidentally, I used to work for industrialist Dr Hans Riegel while living in Germany. He'd renovated an old monastery atop a hill overlooking vineyards and the River Rhine just outside of Boppard-am-Rein and I prowled the entrance area waiting to haul people's cases to their rooms. Dr Riegel, when visiting, used to arrive by helicopter parking up at the hotel helipad.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, the good doctor - a native of Bonn - also had his finger in other pies, most notably a confectionary comapany. You see where I'm going with this? HAns RIegel BOnn. I finished work at his hotel in late 1991 and haven't touched a gummi bear since.