Broughty Athletic v Bonnyrigg Rose Athletic
Dundee North End v Tranent
Dundee Violet v Sauchie
Lochee Harp v Brechin Victoria
So the tail end of the season, with most of the English leagues done. Some options in North Wales, or even FCUM Women v Great Britain Police Federation Ladies, but instead
it is a return to Scotland, with a cluster of games going on in the Dundee area, including the final game at Lochee Harp.
So an 0550 start at Sowerby Bridge, with an early morning haze.
Onto the 0604 Leeds.
For those that have an interest in fleet diagramming, this is the one service a day where the unit escapes from the Calder Valley as then goes onto the Leeds-Nottingham turns, all other unit diagrams are self contained for the day on Leeds - Manchester/Blackpool - York.
It was onto the other side of the platform island, for the one East Trains service a day that heads East out of the station.
Which does at least give an opportunity for a picture of a train in Leeds station in the sun.
Passing through the sun laden Yorkshire wolds and another form of transport from Branson's empire. Though Probably not 90% owned by a bus operator like his trains are.
Across the Tyne.
And then up through Berwick. Thankfully, no signs of any deer corpses.
Into Scotland where it was through Edinburgh and across the Forth Bridge, with the weather looking decidedly gloomier.
For a time, the railway runs along the Fife coast, looking across to Leith.
The views are just as good as Dawlish, but the stretch doesn't get as much attention as its Devonian rival.
Through Kirkcaldy and passing Raith Rovers.
Before emerging onto the three mile long Tay Bridge.
And on the north shore, rounding into Dundee.
Where I was off the train.
My first game was down at Broughty Ferry. The ground has two stations nearby, Barry Links and Golf street. Unfortunately, these are two of the least used stations on the rail network, averaging one passenger a week, meaning almost no trains stops there.
Broughty Ferry station itself also has a sparse service, and there wasn't a train for another six hours, so that instead it was a bus ride. I headed into the centre. The city has a wide ranging history of business, ranging from its origin as the world centre for jute, through to it being where ZX Spectrums were made, but it is also the home of DC Thompson, who publish the Beano, Dandy and also the world's unfuniest cartoon character, Oor Wullie.
Into the centre and proof that cartoon characters just look creepy when in 3D.
Some stereotypical Scottish-Italian rhyming cuisine.
Instead I took in an exhibition of 150 years of public transport in the town, including a 1990s dial-a-ride Ford Transit.
This dropped me off on the outskirts of Broughty Ferry. Broughty lies at the mouth of the Tay and historically, was a location for defences, including a couple of castles. It then became a whaling port, until the industry declined in the 19th century. Bloody Thatcher. It then became a desirable town for the huge residences of the local jute barons, and was reputably the most expensive land in Europe. The town was home to the only pigeon to win a military medal in WWII.
Just across the road was my first game of the day.
Is it compulsory for all Scottish Junior grounds to have a half stripped car at the entrance?
Broughty Athletic were formed in 1920 as Broughty Ex-Servicemen, giving them their nickname of 'The Fed'. They joined the junior leagues and became Athletic in the 1950s. These days they form part of a wider sports organisation, that also includes rugby, athletics, cricket and, just in case any youngsters are holidaying to a French camp site, table tennis.
Bonnyrigg is a Midlothian town to the south east of Edinburgh. Originally a centre for coal mining and carpet making, it is now a commuter town, helped by it being on the new Borders railway. The football club started in 1890, playing in the junior structure with some success, including winning the cup on two occasions. Their most famous former player is listed as Sean Connery. Yes, that one.
Broughty moved to the then Claypotts Park, in the 1950s. It was renamed Whitton Park in the 1980s, in memory of a long standing former player and club official.
It is a remarkably undeveloped ground, the surrounds being uncovered grass banking, with this being the only seating.
It is fair to say that Scottish ground grading is a relatively lax in comparison to its English counterpart, with the pitchside railing being a rather intermittent affair.
Even behind the goal there were large stretches absent.
Political inclinations to the fore, though the backdrop of the aforementioned part stripped car bringing in a touch of social reality.
A decent collection of portacabins and shipping containers, the aspirtational structures of the junior scene.
These were a strange hybrid of breeze block and corrugated iron extension, like an east end cut-and-shut.
The warm up consisted of the Bonnyrigg plyers blasting it at their keeper from just outside the six yard box. This resulted in either a goal being scored without the keeper moving...
...or else the row of exposed houses behind the goal being peppered with rogue slices.
Special kudos to the centre half who managed to bounce the ball off an upstairs window, then the windscreen of a Renault Twingo, and then the full length of the six inch wide ridge of the front hedge, where the ball came to rest. I commented to the goalkeeping coach that the the player couldn't do that again if he was here for another week. The coaches response was a rather damning conclusion that the player also couldn't hit the goal in the same time period.
With the spectators huddled under the trees in the corner, the players emerged.
The now persistent rain had brought with it a very fancy @keepers_towel from the home keeper.
Which was exchanged for one in club colours for the game itself.
The away keeper staying with something more subdued.
The game started fairly evenly.
However, Bonnyrigg scored a couple of goals before half time.
They added a couple more in a minute after the break.
Adding a couple more in the remainder of the half.
To add to the home side's woes, they had a player sent off for a professional foul, which seemed a bit futile when you are already losing by six goals.
It was back to the bus stop, to be greeted with Scotland's most miserable bus driver.
Who dropped me off on the eastern fringes of the city.
It wasn't the most salubrious of environments.
And I was therefore surprised to find the SFA's regional office in a builders merchants in an industrial estate.
This took me past the city's league football grounds. Who knew they were so close together? You would think that it would be mentioned at every opportunity?
So, first of all, the rather jumbled structures of Dundee United's Tannadice.
And across the road, Dundee's more traditional Dens Park.
The signage had the now uniquitous stickering from away ultras, though this one had the welcoming image of a Plaxton Leopard bus on it. Travel to Support indeed.
Although the proximity of Dundee's league clubs is a hackneyed cliche, what isn't mentioned is that within a few minutes are three junior sides; North End, Violets and Lochee Harp.
So I carried on to here.
Another addition to the non-league signs incorporating discontinued breweries.
The modernisation of football, Scottish junior style, as a sellotaped printed notice makes stencilled paint obsolete, and juveniles become concessions.
Dundee North End 0 v Tranent 1, DJ Laing East of Scotland Cup - Semi Final
Dundee North End were formed in 1895, and have always had a fair bit of success in the Dundee and Tayside sections of the junior leagues. The re-org to the east structure has been a bit more of a challenge, though perhaps nothing can match the glory of being twice winners of the quite excellent sounding ‘Cream of the Barley Cup’.
Tranent is a former mining town on the south bank of the Forth estuary, east of Edinburgh. It was the scene of a battle between locals and the British army, in protest at forced conscription. Tranent were formed in 1911 and had some early success, including winning the junior cup in the 1930s, for which the club game themselves the nickname ‘the belters’. Needless to say, they haven’t won anything since. If you have ever wanted to visualise Colonel Sanders going for a midnight stroll whilst casually carrying a mattock on his shoulder? Well the Tranent badge puts your mind at rest.
North End Park is wedged into a scruffy part of the City, but is a tidy ground, well set out and with everything in good order.
The main feature is this sturdy touchline cover.
The far touchline is open, and houses the benches.
The near touchline backs onto the substantial social club, with a raised viewing area.
At the far end, a big grass bank, with three brave spectators.
A decent amount of groundsman's clutter around the benches.
These are the club sponsors and are located opposite the main entrance. Rather than setting up a company through analysis and inherent skills, they just appear to have picked three words at random and gone with that.
It was still raining, so it was double @keepers_towels.
And joy upon joy, the goals themselves appear to have a bespoke towel rail.
Oh joy, a dog at a football game. I think the exchange is something like:-
Man - "Ah, a cute looking doggie at a football game"
Dog - "How has mankind become the leading species on the planet when it is so fucking stupid to think that dogs get any enjoyment from being dragged to this shit? I'm going to get my own back by continuously barking, shitting everywhere and getting in the way of anyone who walks past"
This was the semi-final of the league cup.
It was a lot closer than the other games of the day.
Both sides having chances.
Expertly framed photos of throw-ins near wheelie bins.
In order to get to my main game of the day, I only stayed for the first half.
But in the end, it was the away side that grabbed a late winner.
And so it finised 0-1, with Tranent progressing to play Bonnyrigg in the final.
A short walk through the absolute pelting rain took me here.
Which is home to these.
A rather undecided pricing policy got me in.
Lochee Harp 8 v Brechin Victoria 1, McBookie.com SJFA East Region - South Division
Lochee was separate to Dundee, being the jute producing area, which was a major industry for the city. This attracted a large population of Irish immigrants, hence the emergence of the Harps football team. They were formed in 1904 by the local catholic church, and had a lot of success in the Dundee Junior set up. However, in latter years, they have tailed off, with Lochee United superceding them as the leading club in the area.
Brechin Victoria were formed in 1917 and quickly established themselves as the second biggest team in the town, with a number of Angus Junior and Brechin Rosebowl titles, although admittedly these do sound like cattle judging competitions. The changes to the junior structure, into the Tayside and then East set up, has seen the club a bit moribund in terms of progress.
Beechwood Park has been home to Lochee since the 1940s, but this is supposed to be the last game at the ground. It is being redeveloped as a car showroom, with the football and boxing clubs getting new facilities nearby.
The only structure is the changing room block in the corner, which has a cover attached to its front.
Though the wheelchair facilities are maybe somewhat lacking.
It looked like the cover was also in need of some work, judging by the number of people who had umbrellas up inside it.
The dugouts are similarly characteristic, looking like a wooden version of a Ray Mears survival shelter.
More breaches of pitch surroundings.
By now it was absolutely lashing it down. The hardy spectators had umbrellas.
Whilst those without were tucked into the surrounding trees, giving a 'Hills Have Eyes' scenario walking around, as there would be a rustling and someone would emerge from the foliage.
The rain did mean another @keeper_towel
The home side were knocking in goals at frequent intervals.
Meanwhile, the rain got heavier.
My phone was now a mixture of misted up and waterlogged.
So here are a selection of blurred photos of Lochee banging in a few more goals.
In the end they got eight, with Brechin getting a consolation.
And so, the final game ended 8-1.
There was a bit of a ceremony at the end, but I headed off straight away as I hoped to get the last few minutes of one more game. A couple of minutes away, this was spied.
Some rather cheery additions to the perimeter wall brought some relief to the persistent rain.
And through a side gate, I was into the final game of the day.
Dundee Violet 0 v Sauchie 6, McBookie.com SJFA East Premier League
Dundee Violet were formed in 1883. Like Tranent they have played have always played in the Junior leagues. Like Tranent they won the Junior Cup early in their history, in 1929. Like Tranent they haven’t won anything since. Unlike Tranent, they have given themselves the least imposing nickname possible, calling themselves ‘the pansies’.
Sauchie is a former coal mining northern suburb of Alloa. Not that most people know where Alloa is. The football team are the youngest of those being watched today, being formed in 1960. Prior to that they were a sucesful juvenile side. The team were quite low key in the local junior scene until the turn of the century, which has seen them rise up to the East Superleague. Relegation did follow but this season has seen them promoted as champions. They launched the career of Alan Hanse, before he went on to Partick Thistle, Liverpool, and Saturday evening sofa and knitwear combined smugness.
The rain was now absolutely hammering it down. My phone gave up halfway through trying to take a full picture of the ground.
The main structure is this cover on the near side.
With the rest of the ground being grass banking. At the far end are the remains of a dug out, which had been torched during the week.
Good to see some old school street lamps being used as floodlights.
I think I've only been wetter at a football game once before (19th December 1989, Reading v Welling, FA Cup second round - third replay). Everyone else had taken sanctuary of the cover, apart from these two club officials with golf umbrellas.
And on the far side the bravest/wettest/foolhardiest man in Scotland.
Overlooking the ground is Cox's Stack, which is the very ornate chimney of the former Camperdown jute works.
There was an intriguing bit of agricultural torture equipment on the left, but I was too wet to move.
I'd arrived with the score 0-6. It was fair to say that the main objective of everyone present was just for the end of the game to come as quick as possible, which it soon did.
Completely drenched, I headed off. Fortunately there was an opportunistic flag of the first bus that passed me, which by chance was going into Dundee. I managed to revive my phone whilst on the bus.
It dropped me back to a slightly dryer city centre.
Back to the station for a London bound service, which was the same HST that I'd travelled up on, which had been up to Aberdeen and back.
Rounding the approach to the Tay Bridge. To its left can be seen the base of the original structure. It was of a flimsy design, and shoddily built, which meant it collapsed in a storm in 1879. This is the reason why the Forth Bridge is such an over engineered masterpiece, because the memory of the Tay disaster was fresh in everybody's mind, and both the government and railway companies wanted to restore confidence, so chose the design on what looked sturdy and safest, rather than what was practical. Meanwhile, the Tay bridge itself, was rebuilt to just a slightly stronger design than previous, but not using dodgy Teeside based suppliers.
By the time we'd crossed the bridge, the rain had stopped and the sun was coming out.
I was tucking into the Scottish nouveau cuisine; sugar free Irn Bru and haggis crisps.
Crossing the forth and the tide was out but the sun was also breaking through.
Approaching Edinburgh with the mountains in the background, but this being the East Coast Main Line, meant most of the scenery was flat fields of rape seed.
Out of Edinburgh and along the Midlothian coast, looking across to Fife and the shoreline the train had just come down.
Although the rain had stopped, the North Sea was just as uninviting.
Across the Tweed at Berwick.
And then the Tyne at Newcastle.
I was off at York.
My train headed off to London. Notice on the right the security operation going. This is for Middlesbrough trains as the residents of Teeside spend Saturdays getting arseholed in York, then cause carnage on the evening trains back to smogland, so are tested for sobriety and pulse before being allowed to travel.
I was on the slightly more gentile Liverpool bound service, which was actually full of Widnes and Wigan fans heading back from the magic weekend in Newcastle.
It was a short hop back to Leeds.
With time to take in a fancy new screen with Crosscountry trains advertising on it.
However, closer analysis reveals Stansted has moved to Heathrow, and they appear to have just guessed at how to spell Bournemouth and Southampton.
I was onto a Preston bound 158. This is one of the few York-Blackpool services to call at Sowerby, and are particularly challenging as they are generally full of the social elite of Blackburn/Accrington/Burnley who have been out celebrating their birthdays doing the poshest thing they can imagine, which is getting annihilated on cocktails in an All-Bar-One in York.
Cue the inevitable carnage, as a short ginger bloke kept winding his mate up by saying "who's moved it now" about thirty times a minute. This had the desired effect of his mate punching him full on in the face. Almost instantly, the guard came storming down the carriage, very upset, not it seemed because they'd been a serious act of violence on his train, but because he wasn't there to have the pleasure of witnessing it, as the ginger kid had been winding him up at York.
I left Once Upon a Time in the North West to get on with it, alighting back at Sowerby with the headline nicely illuminating the remarkably still intact flower tubs.
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