Sunday, 22 September 2019

Ground 332: Campo Municipal, CD Mulagua

How long does it take to start a football club from scratch?  For CD Mulagua, just 35 days separated registering with their regional football federation and fielding a team in a friendly against Gomeran neighbours UD Alajero.  "The work of many months achieved in weeks," Mulagua's Facebook account announced when the team was accepted into the third group of the seventh-tier Segunda Regional."My family and friends were all against me getting involved in this," president Lorenzo Negrin wrote, "but Sergio Jerez Padilla brought a group of committed players who have aspirations to go higher.  We hope to be a family that will bring a lot of happiness to the people of Hermigua."



The co-founders are well-known around La Gomera, Padilla arriving from two seasons as el mister at Alajero and Negrin formerly involved with the now-defunct CD Orone Santiago.   These connections have helped their new club hoover up a whole host of raffle prize sponsors, vital funding for what's now the fourth senior men's team on the island. "I'm very happy to receive support from all over La Gomera and Tenerife too," Negrin wrote.  "Maybe we can add a few grains of sand to the local economy."


Mulagua's first ever competitive opposition is Union Deportivo Chio, a village team from the south of Tenerife who come fresh from an eventful summer of their own.  "This will be a very complicated year because we've just lost half of our team," reckoned new coach Nando Ferrer.  "My only goal this year is for the club to function properly."  With no car and just a single bus that can make it in time for the 12.30 kick-off, things functioning properly are at the top of my mind as well.  Fortunately, I'm saved the 19km hike to Hermigua by the punctual departure of the half ten guagua, which climbs straight up through the mountains, loops precariously back down by a terraced vineyard and some banana trees, and finally drops me off by a 16th century Dominican monastery and an enthnographic park.  Safe to say it's all un poco mas exotico than my last time out in suburban South Tyneside.



Things are different on the pitch too.  A chalkboard at the entrance lists raffle prizes, including a box of biscuits and a restaurant meal for two. There's a Lego block-coloured concrete stand along the near touchline, with a road above and a mountain, a banana field and a park on the other three sides.  The home side kick off but it's the visitors who score, a first-minute through ball bouncing twice between defenders and straight to the boot of Chio's centre forward.  "Have it!" he shouts, jogging to the corner flag in celebration.  "But...," Mulagua's left-back begins, looking at the linesman for help.  Chio have a second chalked off for offside before the home side muster a threat of their own, a midfielder chesting down and smashing the blue-and-pink ball against the bar.  I count a crowd of around 80, including 15 standing on the road above, three sitting on a pile of logs and ten on the ramp that leads down to the stand.  Most of them are cheering when Mulagua score their first ever competitive goal, a corner skimming the pitch before the side netting ripples and green shirts joyously converge on the mystery scorer. "For real?" laughs a bloke in flip-flops.  "I didn't see a thing," chuckles his mate between two gulps of beer.  


"You've lost your intensity," Ferrer screams from the touchline, but his team doesn't take long to win back the lead, the number 10 doing a Riyad Mahrez impression down the right before bending in a cross that that a teammate gleefully cushions in.  The middle of the stand rises in celebration as the centre forward gives the scorer a fireman's lift back to halfway.  At the interval I shell out a euro on a raffle ticket and head down to the tea hut, which is busy knocking out paella and cold beer from under a tree in the neighbouring park.


The second half is no less eventful.  I miss a sending off, fail to win the raffle, a Mulagua player Joelintons a free header wide, and two of his teammates can't get their foreheads to a ball that spins annoyingly across the six-yard line.  "Up! Up! Come on," a home fan implores his team.  "In the goal."  With 15 minutes left, the visitors oblige him by smacking a free kick in to the corner from 25 yards. Even worse, in time added on the red-and-whites knock in a fortuitous fourth, finally poking a shot into the net after the luckless home keeper twice saves one-on-ones.  "They didn't deserve so much punishment," Gomera Verde laments post-game. Not the start Padilla and Negrin were looking for, but then they've only been going a month and a half.

Admission:  Free
Date:  September 22nd 2019

A Brief Guide to Groundhopping in La Gomera

CD Santos Reyes are the current kings of Gomeran football.  The Valle Gran Rey team were promoted to the fifth-tier Primera Regional last season and play their home matches a short walk from Playa del Ingles on the edge of the closest La Gomera gets to a beach resort.  If you're travelling from San Sebastian de La Gomera, bus number 1 takes the scenic route (5 euro; about 1 hour 40 minutes) through Garajonay National Park, or you can skip round the island on Fred Olsen's fast boat (10 euro; 70 minutes) then walk 30 minutes along the seafront from the port at Vueltas.  The quirky stadium has the Atlantic at one end, a mountain at the other and a single stand with cover half provided by a roof and half by some parasols. Entrance to games is 5 euro, though any cheapskates among you can climb up a road behind one goal and watch from a rock for free.


CD Bahia de Santiago were a penalty shoot-out away from promotion to the Primeria Regional last season and must be one of the few club sides in Spanish football that are best reached by boat.  Their campo municipal is a short stroll from Playa Santiago's beach, where the Fred Olsen ferries stop off on their route from San Sebastian to Valle Gran Rey.  Unless you've got a residents' discount, the number 3 bus from San Sebastian takes a bit longer but is half the price or there's the free option of a 21km coastal walk.  If you're coming from the north of Tenerife, you can also fly to La Gomera's pint-sized airport and walk down the hill to the ground.  Entrance is free and there's a bar inside the ground.

UD Alajero play on a municipal pitch with a covered stand, a bar in the corner and a view downhill to the North Atlantic.  After finishing last season dead last in the Primera Regional, they're now in the same Segunda grupo as Mulagua.  You can get to Alajero on bus number 3 from the station in San Sebastian de La Gomera (4 euro; about one hour).  Entrance to the ground is free.

As most of the players travel from Tenerife, kick off times for the four men's teams are usually 12 or 12:30 on Sundays to fit in with the ferry schedules. You can find all the league fixtures for Canary Islands football at Tercera level and below here.  With other fixtures staggered across Friday night to Sunday afternoon, it's easy enough to fit in more than one game across a weekend if you base yourself on Tenerife. Including La Gomera in your plans would mean a flight or return ferry (64 euro with Naviera Armas or 68 with Fred Olsen, though there are discounts for groups and over-60s).  You can find all the Gomeran teams on Facebook; up-to-date kick off times are listed here.

After UD Gomera resigned their Primera Regional place in March 2018the sole occupants of San Sebastian's stadium are AD Sanse, who play in the third-tier Segunda Division Feminino Group 6.  The uncovered stadium is a 10-15 minute walk from the town centre. There's a hut selling coffee next to a corner flag and a bar on the street outside.  Games usually kick off at noon on Sundays; entrance is free. Their Facebook page is here.

Sunday, 8 September 2019

Ground 331: New Fields, Whitburn and Cleadon FC

Hello again, reader.  It's been a while.  In case you'd been wondering, since I last wrote anything on here I've shivered through the death throes of Dnipro Dnipropetrovsk, watched an unlikely promotion lift-off at Desna Chernahiv's Yuri Gagarin Stadium almost aborted by Arsenal Kyiv, looked on as Whitley Bay lost at Stockton Town, South Shields won at Whitby,  Hercules Alicante stalled at home to Levante's B team, and Rayo Vallecano went down to Getafe on a balmy Sunday lunchtime in Madrid.  Apologies to all but one of the home teams listed; I can only promise not to come back soon.

I've also accidentally taken in the reopening of Belarus's national stadium as Dynamo Minsk hosted Derry City in the early rounds of the Europa League, sat through Ukraine U16s besting Belgium - a rare home win - at Kyiv's House of Football, and ended two years in Eastern Europe with a Brexit-beating move to the North Atlantic, tanning myself at three grounds on La Gomera:  a promotion play-off that Playa Santiago lost on penalty kicks, an island derby at Santa Reyes where the opposition turned up off the ferry with just nine men, and CD Tenerife's youth team's routine thrashing of UD Alajero as the latter finished rock bottom of the sixth-tier 1a Regional Grupo 2.  Oh, the glamour of it all.  Eleven new grounds in just over two years; in school report parlance, I could definitely do better.

Which is one of the reasons I'm at groundhoppers' dream club Whitburn and Cleadon this afternoon. Since my last visit in 2016, they've joined up with a junior football team, changed their name, shifted to a fourth different home ground, and been promoted to the middle-tier of the Northern Football Alliance after a six-season stay in Division Two.  "The move to New Fields settled us," reckoned manager Ryan Shave. "Having a pitch we know is in decent condition and looked after is important...in previous seasons we were asking players to help put up nets and barriers while watching us pick up dog crap off the pitch".  Whatever else they suffered, that was something they never had to dirty their hands with while dropping through the leagues at the Dnipro Arena.


Shave's team sit third with seven games gone, already 15 points ahead of a Felling Magpies side who've played six, lost six and conceded 42 goals while they were at it. The visitors are out and working on their shape in more than one sense of the word when I arrive at New Fields.  "A perfectly normal clump of grassland, with a hedge on one side and a school on the other,"  the Telegraph's Jonathan Liew wrote in a piece on South Tyneside Council's plans to sell it off in 2016.  With the local area not yet safe from the housebuilders, the 'Keep Cleadon Green' flags are still flying outside the brick clubhouse building the home team are emerging from. I find myself a spot where I won't be expected to chase down stray balls, eventually settling on a place where the visiting subs can retrieve any overhit passes and the home keeper beats me to the weeds behind his goal.  "Howay lads, someone grab this," referee Keith Scoffham says, holding linesman's flags out to both teams.  I take a headcount of nine other spectators, including a bloke with sunglasses and a camera bag he never opens, two people out for a walk and a visiting fan with his own folding chair.

The Magpies hold their own until the quarter hour, when their keeper scuffs a clearance and a Whitburn forward walks the ball around him and into the net.  "Eeeh, Jesus Christ," a defender rages.  "From our own mistake again." "Keep the shape, keep the shape," a midfielder tells his teammates.  "You're doing well," says Scoffham.  "Great half, lads.  Great discipline.  Thank you."  At half-time the teams form circles on the touchline, the referee stands alone with a water bottle and a defender has a slash behind the goal.  "At least he turned his back," a player laughs.  "You won't be coming on as a sub this half, will you?" Scoffham asks one of his assistants before restarting the game.


The second 45 is dominated by the home team, who see a header nudged back off the line and a shot that just fails to squeeze between the keeper's knees before they finally clank a second goal in off the bar.  "Dig in!" shout the Felling coaches.  "Keep going, heads up."  The away side battle gamely but the closest they get to a goal is a penalty shout that Scoffham waves away.  "Blatant ref, man," a midfielder complains. "Come on, lads.  Sometimes I get them right, sometimes I get them wrong. Do you want to moan or play?"  With ten minutes left, Whitburn dink a third goal in and go first in the table ahead of Hexham, Red Row Welfare and Blyth Spartans Reserves.  "Our first clean sheet of the season. Eight games in and we somehow sit top of the league despite not hitting any form," they tweet at full time.  Football, eh?

Date:  September 7th 2019
Admission:  Free

Monday, 7 August 2017

Ground 319: West Close Road, Barnoldswick Town

"Who are these we're playing, like? Anyone kna owt about 'em?" asked one of the 12 Jarrow Roofing fans waiting in a social club carpark for their club's first game of the new season.  "Wembley warriors," someone joked as the travelling squad packed their holdalls into the boot of the coach.  "You still eating nowt but celery?" a teammate asked Lee Kerr, a scorer in three successive Wembley finals for Whitley Bay. "Will we be stopping off on the way back?" a player shouted from the back.  "It's just I forgot to bring any bait."


The bus had leaflets for trips to Berlin and Great War battlefields but today we were bound for Barnoldswick Town and an extra-preliminary round tie in the 2017-18 FA Cup. "Two and a bit hours," a supporter announced, "according to my phone." Joint managers Richie McLoughlin and Mark Collingwood huddled at the front scribbling their formation in a notebook.  "They've already put their team on their website as a 4-3-2-1," McLoughlin said.  "Red herring," thought first-team coach Mick Mulhern, who trained half a dozen of the current England women's squad during 15 years in charge at Sunderland Ladies.  "They started that way when I saw them but they finished up 3-2-3-2."  Richie's wife Janice collected lottery subs and the bus money.  "Are you doing Twitter today?" she asked the student from Sunderland University doing work experience with the club.


Barnoldswick had gone big on their ninth appearance in the world's oldest football tournament. A replica FA Cup had pride of place on their clubhouse bar and balloons in the shape of the Champions League trophy had been tied to half the tables.  The pie and mushy peas was served with proper cutlery and china bowls from a hatch in the corner and the toilet block outside had a choice of soap, hand sanitiser or waterproof suncream.  "Bit posh this," a Roofing fan marvelled, "but I divvent think the factor 30 would do much to clean yer hands."  The home side had never before won a game in the competition; Roofing had once played at Fleetwood Town and twice made it as far as the second round of qualifying. "It's winnable," a Roofing fan concluded, looking at the line-ups stuck neatly to a wall.  "But at this stage of the season you never know what you're going to get."


The first 20 minutes promised an even contest, Dennis Knight, once of Newcastle United, reacting first when his free kick rebounded back from the wall to put Roofing ahead, but the home side responded swiftly, turning the score around with two goals in four minutes just after the half hour.  "Too many slack balls," a Roofing fan bemoaned. "We gave the game away," Kerr rued later.  You could hear the raised voices in the visitors dressing room at half-time.  "I've told him to calm down," Janice McLoughlin said, cocking her head towards the door. 


"Get the ball down, use your heads and play," McLoughlin urged his side in the minutes after half-time.  "Got to make this pressure tell," a Barnoldswick fan muttered, the referee's whistle sounding almost simultaneously for a penalty kick.  "I didn't know whether it was in or out of the box," Roofing keeper Shaun Newbrook reckoned back on the bus. "Definitely in," said Mulhern, who'd been watching from a gantry above the dugouts. "Wouldn't have made a difference," thought a despondent McLoughlin.  "The better team won on the day."


Two goals behind,  Roofing threw giant centre-back Dan Kirkup up alongside Knight but couldn't find a route past Connor King, an England schoolboy international signed on loan from Burnley's under-23s. The home side eased to victory, their first ever in the FA Cup. "They were lively in the first 10 minutes," lamented former Northern League chairman Mike Amos as he looped around the pitch.  "History makers," tweeted the Barnoldswick account. For the victors, a preliminary round meeting with Northern League Dunston UTS.  The losers made do with post-match pints, a sausage sandwich from the clubhouse and a whip-round for the driver on the journey back home. 

Admission: £5
Date:  Saturday August 5th 2017

Friday, 4 August 2017

Ground 318: Clandeboye Park, Bangor

"You hoped it couldn't get any worse," a Bangor fan remembered of his club's long descent down the league.  "But it did."  Relegated once on the pitch and twice off it, the Super Seasiders plummeted three divisions from the Northern Irish Premiership to the Ballymena & Provincial District Football League. "It took a while to sink in. Unimaginable. But maybe the shock was what the club needed."


Whatever else it was, dropping out of the Football League formed the catalyst for change elsewhere. "Season ticket sales are up, matches and balls sponsored, Friends of Bangor scheme in full flow,  new management team, clean up days organised, new website and fans returning in numbers," one forum poster celebrated after five new directors took control at Clandeboye Park.  "Bangor is the biggest club I've managed," incoming manager Hugh Sinclair told the club's website.  "We have the same vision for Bangor as we did when we set up the Supporters' Steering Group," pledged the new chairman.  "We want to take the club into the Premiership within five years and ensure Bangor FC is a community based club. We want to move forward in an open and transparent manner."


Half an hour from Belfast Central, Bangor was the end of the line.  "Straight down for Eisenhower Pier," the conductor told a couple of elderly Americans as the first of the day's showers blew in off the Irish Sea.  There was a single fisherman on the concrete, facing inland with his back to a mural of Eishenhower's send off to the fleet in Bangor Bay.  "From here we started the long, hard march to Allied victory," he told cheering crowds in Belfast the following year. Two walkers with golf umbrellas hurried by along the North Down Coastal Path, and a group of kids kicked a football between puddles in a car park nearby.  Bangor once produced players like Gerry Armstrong, Terry Neill, Steve Morrow and the effervescent Tommy Casey, an FA Cup winner with Newcastle United and a man "whose tackles called to mind a speeding bulldozer". "We got into the UEFA Cup one year and the Cup Winners' Cup another two," the fan told me later.  "Finished second in the league and won the Irish Cup and League Cup in the same season. We've been sinking for years, but things feel a lot brighter now."


The quarter hour walk from the train and bus station took in a kebab shop called Doner Trump and the site of the sixth century Bangor Abbey - smashed up by the Vikings in the town's first brush with continental opposition - before cutting up Church Street past a gospel hall and a house-end mural of a cow keeping goal.  There was a wooden table at the entrance and a gloriously quirky ground inside, almost every corner a new and unexpected delight.  The TV gantry was made of planks of wood and scaffolding poles, a stepladder strapped to one side with bits of rope.  Plastic office seats were scattered inside the dugouts and the main stand had four armchairs in the middle of the disabled section.  The curved terrace at the Clandeboye Road end was a reminder of the ground's former use as a go-kart track.  On one side there was a corrugated structure with holes in the roof and a fence tacked to the front to keep spectators out.  On the other, the club shop was in a portakabin between the grandstand and the toilet blocks, whose only sign of opulence was the bar of Imperial Leather stuck on the side of the sink.  A note on the door gave prices for club mugs and bar scarves. Season tickets, sponsored by a fish and chip shop, were just £70.

 
Sinclair's new-look side had put six goals past Groomsport, seen off Lower Shankill and Crumlin Star and lost 4-0 to Premiership champions Linfield.  Their fifth pre-season opponents, Albert Foundry, were another fourth-tier club, the two matched tackle for tackle and error for error in a full-blooded opening half.  Bangor took the lead half an hour in, the returning Johnny Bowers, the closest thing the Ballymena & Provincial District will see to a genuine trequartista this season, swinging a free kick in from the corner flag that clattered back off the post and past the keeper's flailing hand.  Seven minutes later, Marcus Beattie bundled in a leveller after Foundry broke clear down the left.  The bloke in the next seat sucked air through his teeth while two travelling fans in bobble hats clapped enthusiastically down below. 


The second half was evenly matched but largely uneventful. An unwilling Foundry coach tucked a linesman's flag under his arm, while another ran back to the changing rooms to fetch a substitute a pair of shorts and the right colour socks. The lights came on a lamp at a time. Bangor grazed the crossbar but the game played out at pre-season pace. "Decent workout," the fan next to me reckoned, "but none of this counts for anything if we don't get promoted this year."


Admission: £2
Date:  Tuesday August 1st 2017

Friday, 28 July 2017

Lincoln '96

When I tell people I've been to places like Bristol, Norwich, Lincoln and Oxford, I usually mean I've seen them in the way teenage football fans do, which is to say that rather than the Bodleian, the Ashmolean Museum or Christ Church Cathedral I had an open terrace at the Manor Ground, a black-and-white santa hat and the unwanted present of a 4-2 defeat three days after Christmas 1992. While I might not have any photos of Cabot Tower or the Clifton Suspension Bridge, I did watch Harry Palmer make a memorable early contribution to the Bristol Sound in a pub by Ashton Gate.  Norwich Cathedral was an attempted short cut between beers; in Lincoln, I missed England's oldest inland harbour and what Ruskin called "the most precious piece of architecture in the British Isles" and saw instead a football stand sponsored by the Co-op and a backstreet boozer filled with black and white shirts.  Back in the city 21 years later, the road to Sincil Bank had a Polish barber's, a Wetherspoons and a Chinese restaurant called 'Legal Food'.  I crossed Scorer Street, birthplace of Leeds and Sheffield Wednesday striker Lee Chapman, and followed a sign pointing left between two rows of terraces to a familiar cantilevered stand...

It's not every day you get to see the world's most expensive footballer make his debut for your team.  We were due a bit of a pick-me-up: in the past few months Newcastle United had let slip a 12-point lead to lose the Premier League title to Manchester United and Germany had beaten England on penalties (again) in the semi-final of Euro '96.  Football wasn't coming home but the bloke who'd just won the Golden Boot was.


"This signing  shows you the ambition of Newcastle United," Kevin Keegan told the assembled media in Bangkok. "We are the biggest thinking team in Europe now."  Back home in Newcastle, shops had already run out of letters to put Shearer on the back of black and white shirts. "Can you imagine being Alan Shearer?" posed a disbelieving presenter on Lincolnshire local news.  "You're a 25-year-old son of a sheet metal worker and not only are you set to pick up around £1.5 million as your cut of the £15 million paid by Newcastle but apparently if you're Alan Shearer you'll be on £30,000 each and every week."  It was just five days after the Magpies had been thrashed in Japan by Gamba Osaka and three since Shearer was presented to a 15,000 crowd in a rain drenched car park outside St James'. "This is your day,"  Kevin Keegan told the delirious masses.  "You've bought the shirts and the tickets and put the money in and I've invested it so we can have the very best on the pitch."


Around 2,000 more were at Lincoln City's Sincil Bank, with the same number again trying to get inside.  Outside the ground, tickets were changing hands for four times their face value.  "Every seat in the 11,000 capacity stadium has been sold," Peter Sissons told the nation on the Six O'Clock News. "Lincoln had probably not seen an invasion of its like since the city's castle was stormed in 1644," the Independent reckoned the following day.  The game had been arranged as part of Darren Huckerby's £400,000 move to St James' Park; the Imps were losing £10,000 a week and were struggling to find three times that amount to sign Kevin Austin from Leyton Orient.  "We'll probably make £80,000 from tonight," Lincoln's grateful managing director told the BBC.


It took 18 minutes for Shearer to get his opening shot on target and 15 more for his first Newcastle goal, slamming a penalty one way while ex-Cramlington Juniors teammate Barry Richardson leapt the other.  "Shearer! Shearer!" we roared unimaginatively as he shook hands with Robert Lee and Peter Beardsley and ambled back to halfway.  On the hour, Tino Asprilla played in Philippe Albert for a second.  "Ye kna," the bloke in front told his mate, "we'll win the league with Shearer in this team."  Veni.  Vidi.  Vici. 

Two days later we got thumped 4-0 in the Charity Shield at Wembley.  World's most expensive player or not, some things never change.

Wednesday, 26 July 2017

Ground 317: Druids Park, West Allotment Celtic

Sometimes it pays to stay where you are.  Newcastle Blue Star were among the venerable names of north-east non-league football.  FA Vase winners in 1978 and Northern League champions in 2006, they had once had the financial clout to fly Trevor Brooking up from London on a £500 fee to play against Wearside League title rivals Coundon Three Tuns. Just to be on the safe side, they'd tried for George Best too.


In 2007, Star took up the FA's offer to be one of the founder members of the Unibond First Division North.  To meet the Unibond's stadium requirements, new Blue Star chairman Dave Thompson arranged to share the 10,000-capacity Kingston Park with his Newcastle Falcons rugby union team. "My vision for Blue Star is for it to be a community club for the people of Newcastle," Thompson loftily informed the local press. "Today's announcement comes after a huge amount of planning, and represents a significant day for North East sport."  Two years later, Blue Star thrashed Curzon Ashton 4-1 in the First Division North play off final and were promoted to within three divisions of the Football League.  It was the final game they ever played.


A decade of patient work on the club's Wheatsheaf Ground had failed to meet Unibond standards but had left it with a state-of-the-art 4G surface paid out of a Football Stadia Improvement Fund grant.  When Blue Star moved to Kingston Park, their former home was used as a training ground for the Falcons and for first team games by Gosforth RFC. The FSIF cited breach of contract as the football club were no longer using the facilities and demanded its grant be repaid. Thompson responded by pulling his funding and the 69-year-old club folded without kicking another ball. “This is a long saga without a simple solution, but you cannot sustain a team on 80 fans turning up every week," Blue Star's former benefactor complained to the Newcastle Evening Chronicle. 


With Blue Star just a memory, the Wheatsheaf was used by rugby players and the Newcastle Vikings American Football team, joining the ever lengthening list of lost Northern League grounds. This summer alone Billingham Synthonia's sumptious 2,000-capacity cantilevered stand closed owing to "unsustainable maintenance and running costs" and West Allotment Celtic moved out of Blue Flames  when the Northumberland FA hiked the rent up by £3,000 a season with £300 more on top for every home game over 25.  For a while it looked like West Allotment  - just a year short of their 90th anniversary - might go the same way as Blue Star, the club tendering their resignation from the Northern League.  "It's a disaster," secretary Ted Ilderton thought. “The people who run the club are all getting old. We don’t want to be standing around in open fields.”  By May, the club had been relegated from the Northern League's top-flight but had managed to secure their existence with a move to the Wheatsheaf, now known as Druids Park. Tonight they were preparing for life in Division Two with a friendly against Blyth Spartans Reserves, formed out of a link up with New Hartley FC and newly admitted to the Northern Football Alliance, three divisions lower than their hosts.  


The artificial surface was flanked by rugby posts, the back end of a Premier Inn, wheelie bins, a conifer hedge, two metal-roofed stands and a car park, where most of the few dozen spectators were congregated within a few metres of their cars.  Spartans seized an early lead with an uncontested header.  "What did we say before the game?" the Celtic keeper asked rhetorically three times. "Let's learn from it," a defender shouted back.  "Fucking hell," said the keeper.


The visitors played the tidier first half football, clipping the crossbar with an identikit header and several conifer branches with a shot that needed shaking down from the tree.  Allotment deservedly levelled with a strike that curved around the goalkeeper's dive, the swish of ball on net lost to the roar of an aeroplane engine at the other end of the ground.  "Pick it up again," demanded a Spartan as the floodlights blinked on and two blokes on a picnic bench demolished the last of their half-time chips.  With ten minutes left, a crossfield ball was played first time back across the centre and turned in by Peter Murray. "Great goal," the bloke next to me clapped, looking up from his phone. "Quality," someone shouted.  "We go again," screamed the beaten keeper, hoofing the ball upfield.  Whatever the result, for West Allotment going again is a triumph in itself.

Admission:  Free
Date: Monday July 24th 2017

Sunday, 23 July 2017

Ground 316: Lobanovskyi Stadium, Olimpik Donetsk

"Ukrainian football's just like Ukraine," a cynical Dynamo Kyiv grumbled in one of my classes. "There's no money, it's run by fools and anybody with sense just wants to get out."  The European exploits of Shakhtar Donetsk, Dynamo and Dnipro Dnipropetrovsk have managed to keep the Ukrainian Premier League above the likes of Belgium, Turkey and the Netherlands in the UEFA rankings, but a truer reflection of the competition's curent state was a regular season average attendance of 4,361 in 2016-17 - a 13% decrease on the already dismal turn out during the previous campaign.


Crowds aren't all that's going down.  Dnipro - Europa League finalists in 2015 - started the 2017-18 season in the third-tier after owner Igor Kolomoyskyi pulled his funding from the club.  Metalist Kharkiv made the top-three in eight successive seasons between 2008 and 2014 but finished last season bottom of a regional amateur league, their owner having fled to Russia charged with stealing $180 million from bank investors whole owing another $130 million in unpaid tax. Dynamo Kyiv and Shakhtar Donetsk, the twin behemoths of Ukrainian football, continue to dominate but have also been shrunk by economic reality, the shelling of Shakhtar's 52,000-seater stadium forcing them to play in Lviv and Kharkiv, and Dynamo beset by money troubles stemming from the nationalisation of Kolomoyskyi's Privat Bank.


The big two are still doing better than anybody else in the 12-team UPL.  Shakhtar's erstwhile city rivals Metalurh fielded Yaya Touré, Henrikh MkhitaryanJordi Cruyff and Darren O'Dea at various points in their nineteen year history but went bankrupt in 2015 and re-emerged in Dnipro, where they now play to meagre crowds as Stal Kamianske.  Donetsk's third side, Olimpik, left their home ground behind for a training pitch belonging to the Ukrainian Football Federation and then moved across the capital city to the small but perfectly formed Lobanovskyi Stadium, named in tribute to the legendary coach of Dynamo Kyiv.


Formed in 2001, Olimpik reached the Premier League in the same year the war forced them out of Donetsk, staying afloat on attendances that barely scrape into four figures thanks to a no-frills recruitment policy, loan signings, academy products and Roman Sanzhar, an Eddie Howe-esque figure who played over 200 times for the club before taking over as manager in 2013.  Promoted at the end of Sanzhar's first season, Olimpik made a Ukrainian Cup semi-final in his second and the Europa League at the end of his fourth, the top-flight neophytes bested in the final standings only by the big two and Zorya Luhansk, yet another team playing hundreds of kilometres outside their hometown.


The third of four meetings between Zorya and Olimpik was played on a April afternoon in central Kyiv "Easily my favourite ground in Ukraine," Adrian Colley reckoned as we walked up to the white-columned entry gates, passing blokes flogging Zorya scraves, wizened babushkas hawking newspaper cones packed with sunflower seeds and a statue of Lobanovskiy leaning forward off a bench with his feet on a giant football.  At the ticket window we plumped for the posh seats - the extra 30p getting us armrests and a place in front of the press box while the 16 Zorya ultras slummed it above a spare set of goalposts and a corner flag.  The beer was 75p wherever you sat and the programme came free along with a five-minute lecture on Russian incursions into eastern Ukraine. "It's a war no matter what Putin tries to tell you," an Olimpik fan confided.  Behind him, a man strolled past in a t-shirt with a picture of a gun and the slogan 'It's an Uzi Life'.


Olimpik cracked the bar before Zorya took the lead,  Ivan Petryak lumbering unopposed down the left and the Brazilian Paulinho (no, not that one) heading into the corner of the net.  Almost the entire main stand clapped the scorer back to the halfway line while the ultras stripped to the waist and twirled scarves around their heads.  "Black and whites to victory," they chanted but Zorya missed out on a second goal when a striker shot against his own foot and conceded an equaliser from a looping header that prompted celebrations from a few scattered handfuls of the 1,138 crowd.  A lone Olimpik fan blew into a vuvuzela, the announcement of the attendance garnered a polite round of applause and Zorya ended up a player short, Artem Gordienko dismissed for protesting about the non-award of a penalty kick in the last minute of the game. "We understood they had more skill and we had to beat them for effort," Sanzhar said later. "It's hard," admitted Zorya's Yuri Koval.  "The general trend is that the quality is going down and the financial situation makes it hard for us to attract players."


The TV cameras packed up and the exiles drifted back towards Kreshchatyk, where thousands of people were going about their Sunday afternoon oblivious to the game next door. "That was alright for a quid," said Liverpool fan Jim, taking one last look at the semi-deserted ground. 

Admission:  40UAH (£1.10)
Date: Sunday April  30th 2017