#50 Hand Stadium, Clevedon Town

Wrington Redhill 1 Fry Club 2

Monday 1st May 2017, Somerset County League Premier Division

It'd been an eventful May bank holiday. Daz's second trip down to sample the delights of West Country football had involved a right royal knees-up at Western League champions Bristol Manor Farm's ground The Creek as we watched them see off bottom of the table Sherborne Town and lift the cup. The day after, we went along to Bristol Rovers' final league game of the season at a sold-out Memorial stadium. It was a feisty affair as the Gas gave play-off chasing Millwall a scare in a tight-fought 3-4 defeat. 

With one more day to play with, we decided to keep it local and head over the River Avon into North Somerset to check out Clevedon Town's Hand Stadium. Playing at the Hand today were Somerset County League Premier side Wrington Redhill, taking on Keynsham's Fry Club. Of all the end-of-season clashes we'd attended this one was the most dead rubber with Wrington 14th and Fry Club 11th. We've met Wrington before on this blog, when they succumbed to a 6-3 defeat at the hands of Shirehampton at their Penpole Lane ground. Fry Club were formed in 1917 as the team of the Fry's Chocolate Company at the Somerdale Factory in Keynsham and play their games at a facility built by the company, also named Fry Club.

I'd already checked-out the Hand Stadium in passing last year, stopping for a mooch whilst on an errand in Clevedon. Remarking online that it looked like a quite a tidy facility, prominent Bristol groundhopper Terry Nutkin was on hand to offer a typically nuanced nugget of guidance:

Clevedon Town (formed in 1880) have previously played at a much higher level than where they currently find themselves, spending over two decades between 1993 and 2015 in the Southern League, hence the ground is a little more salubrious than you'd expect from a mid-table Western League Premier club. Terry and others had described it as being too out of the way from Clevedon and having the feel of a bad nightclub in the middle of nowhere. Ever the contrarian, I had decided long ago to have a look for myself and see if there was anything to be liked.

The stadium is named in honour of the Hand family who Wikipedia informs me were involved, through successive generations, in running the club for over 100 years. The Seasiders moved from their old Teignmouth Road ground to the Hand Stadium in 1992. In 2015 the leisure company Everyone Active invested half a million into the ground, setting up a gym and function rooms in the process. Right off the bat I had to concede that the ground's critics had a point about it's remote location. It's roughly 2 miles from Clevedon proper in a small village called Kenn, down several single-track roads and nestled between various farm buildings. You certainly wouldn't want to walk there and I cannot imagine the mayhem that would've ensued on the roads on the day the ground's record attendance of 2,261 was set when Chester City came to town in the FA Cup in 2006.

Upon entering the ground I was instantly hit by how, much like Melksham Town's new ground, it resembled the stadium you get given if you start as a non-league team on Football Manager. The main stand holds six blocks of raised seats in rows of four, all under the cover of a metal corrugated roof. The seats look wildly out of proportion compared to the size of the stand, covering only about two-thirds of the huge stone building but they do afford a decent enough view. In the seatless third of the stand there is a tea hatch and a small bar which was closed today.

On the opposite side to the main stand is a long covered terrace, six steps high, spanning the length of the pitch. In truth, it was mainly this terrace that made me think that the Hand looked pretty impressive during my aforementioned brief glance through the gates. I imagine it would be quite a fun place to stand if there was a good crowd in attendance but sadly Clevedon struggle to break 100 these days and the terrace cut a desolate figure on this grey Somerset afternoon. 

Behind the goals are two uncovered terraces with the furthest being inaccessible today as it is still rather amazingly set up to allow segregation, with it's own set of turnstiles. The large tufts of plant life sprouting from the cracks in the concrete suggest this hasn't been needed for a while. Although far too big for current purpose, largely devoid of quirk and somewhat tatty in places, the Hand's main stand and opposing terrace are well maintained and provide ample, element-resistant vantage points for both the sitting and standing favouring member of the Clevedon faithful. Incidentally if anyone from Everyone Active is reading this, I am available for brochure writing services at a very reasonable fee.

The match began and within three minutes Wrington were ahead after converting a simple cross from down near the corner flag. Not a lot happened for the next 20 minutes so we had to amuse ourselves by following the antics of a Fry Club forward we had affectionately dubbed "Angry Number 9". Angry Number 9 got his title early on when he was engaged in a tussle for the ball and whilst spinning around after it got away, left his arms around the opposing player and to quote my notepad: "suplexed a fool".

Angry was more justified in his rage later on in the first half when he was blatantly hacked down right in front of the lino. As the game went on around him, he slowly stood up and admonished the official with "Are you looking? Then what the fuck are you stood there for!" As this is going on his teammate, who had latched onto the ball he'd lost had drew Fry Club level. As the teams returned to the centre spot, Angry made his frustrations clear to the ref, who responded wearily with "Well obviously the advantage was played. Your team just scored!"

Just before half time a ball rose slowly into the air just outside the Wrington box and much to the collective amazement of the few dozen of us watching, a Fry's player jumped up to volley a perfect overhead bicycle kick over the stunned home keeper. Obviously this chap, like me, had been staying up to watch the Beach Soccer World Cup where every third crack at goal is a bicy and fancied a go himself. Needless to say we were overjoyed to have witnessed such greatness in the humble Somerset County League.

During the second half the threatening-looking grey clouds that were amassing finally gave way to a mini-deluge that caused us to retreat into the seated stand as the players continued to battle it out for those final, meaningless end-of-season three points. Keeping Wrington in the running was the willowy, baseball cap wearing goalkeeper known only to us as James. The young player dealt with numerous attempts on goal manfully, including one from our pal Angry so it's likely that James will end up with a horse's head on his pillow tomorrow morning.

The main event of the second half was a moment where a lino who looked not unlike Glenn Cullen from The Thick of It snapped under the abuse from one of the managers and turned on him in a gesture of headmasterly control, extended a finger into his red shouty mug and repeatedly bellowed "SIT DOWN" until the gaffer sheepishly did so. What a man. The half was fairly end on end but sadly there would be no more goals for me to write about, despite Wrington troubling the keeper from afar late in the day, with the parried save almost being bundled into goal.

I maintain that the Hand Stadium is one of the better equipped Western League stadiums and it would be nice to see it with some bumper crowds in future but it's down to Clevedon and Everyone Active to make them happen. For now though it was time to go home and think about how I'd rage against the dying of the fixture schedule next weekend.

#49 Rowdens Road, Wells City

Wells City 2 Bristol Manor Farm 4
Saturday 8th March 2017, Western League Premier Division

With just five matches remaining in this Western League season, it occurred to me that I wasn't likely to get many more chances to continue crossing off this particular league whilst simultaneously following the mighty Farm away. I say this because Farm entered this game needing just six points to mathematically guarantee becoming champions and joining the Southern League. Today probably would have been the day, had the match against Willand Rovers not been called off due to unseasonable water-loggage but we would have to wait until Good Friday for our chance to seal the deal at Hallen.

Wells City are based in England's smallest city Wells, which is 20 miles south-west of Bath at the southern foot of the Mendip Hills. The club were founded way back in 1890, joined the Western League in 1929 and have spent time in both divisions as well as a couple of wilderness decades in the Somerset County League. They were champions of the Western League First Division in 1949-50 and 2009-10. Wells started the match in 13th place with no danger of going down or up this season.

I left to pick up Loulou at around 11:30, it being Saturday and knowing first-hand the drinking culture of the professional fundraising industry I naturally assumed he would be unconscious on someone's floor. After eventually finding him in Speedwell of all places we headed off to Wells, arriving in time to catch the end of Tottenham running riot over Watford with a pint. Tony, John and the rest of the Manor Farm ultras were in attendance and a joy to talk to as always. I was sorry to have to decline their kick-about invite but I don't think Loulou would have survived such exertion.

Wells have been at Rowdens Road for a staggering 125 years since leaving their original home Torfurlong in 1892. The ground is situated in the corner of a large playing field surrounded by tennis courts. This area used to be a first-class cricket ground and acted as the home ground of Wells Cricket Club at the turn of the century and Somerset CCC from 1935 to 1951. The sky blue clubhouse is situated to the side of what was the cricket pitch so it's a fair way from the football ground but I assume it acts as a general hub for community events in the playing field. There seemed to be some sort of power-point based meeting/pyramid scheme presentation going on in the room across from the bar which I almost accidentally stumbled into. 

If you're not looking to become a millionaire through the procurement and resale of fine bespoke Tupperware goods, then the Wells clubhouse can provide a range of cider and beers in bottle or pulled format, as well as the staple non-league filled rolls. It was a pity in a way that Farm couldn't have won the title here as the spacious and friendly bar would've made a great venue for the ensuing knees-up and the brilliantly sunny day only added to the pleasant vibe, as the locals and their visitors loudly took in the Grand National together or basked on the grass outside.

Rowdens Road is another fairly simple Western League ground, dominated by a grand and ancient looking wooden stand to the far side from the entrance. The old-timer is a mixture of white fence-like panels which make up the walls, a row of four plywood steps for attendees to sit and a railed-off flat standing section underneath, all covered by a corrugated metal roof supported by several sturdy metal pillars out front. The seating is raised and accessed by a small set of steps which takes you over the brickwork that makes up the front of the stand. Though crumbling in places and fighting a war with local plant-life, it's not everyday you get a raised stand like this in the Western League and it's traditional features are quite charming. A lovely stand indeed. 

Also of note are the ornate metal gates that lead into the car park inscribed with the name Mary Bignal Rand, a local athletics legend who brought a gold medal back to Wells when she saw off all comers in long jump at the 1964 Tokyo Olympics. Don't say I don't teach you anything. The only other structures in the ground are the portakabin changing rooms to the right of the main stand and another little building with a metal annex roof which adds provides a little more covered standing. We opted to eschew all of these options in favour of getting more of that rare British sunshine and sat on the step of the changing room.

The game got underway and with just 10 of your English minutes on the clock, Dean Stamp flicked a header in from a corner at the near post for his 23rd league goal of the season. On 26 minutes Farm skipper Jordan Metters slid a ball forward to Troy Simpson who burst into the penalty area, whilst his defender took a tumble and hit it wide of the keeper and into goal, allowing Tony to unleash his new favourite chant: "Trooooyyy Simpsonnnnn" followed by a rendition of The Simpsons theme song.

Ten minutes before the break Stamp struck again and hit his brace, picking up a rebound on the edge of the box and firing low past the diving keeper. This third goal was helped in no small part by the bobbly pitch which caused the ball to bounce just wide of the keeper's diving fingertips. The pitch did look like it would have benefited from a pre-match water, in fact the patch of grass behind where we were standing looked a lot healthier than the playing surface but it wasn't massively impeding the game. Wells clawed one back just prior to the break as Lee Pitman capitalised on an ill-timed headed pass from Farm and curled the ball past Kane Manning who was making his debut between the sticks.

The game opened up a bit more in the second half and Wells were able to reduce the difference to a single goal. Pitman took a long range punt at goal and the hated bobble allowed the ball to squirm it's way past Manning. The comeback was short-lived however as Troy Simpson battled hard in the air to win the ball and set up Stamp to lob the rushing keeper and complete his hat-trick.

It was a good display from both teams and another fine advert for the Western League. However it was Farm who controlled proceedings and in all truth could have scored two or three more if they'd seen off some more very good chances, the least of these being a penalty in the 70th which Harley Purnell blasted high over the bar. Ultimately this is just nit-picking and Manor Farm's 29 wins in the league (with three draws and only two defeats) speak for themselves. After threatening to be for a few seasons now they finally look like the finished package and are unplayable on their day, time for the boys from the Portway to test their mettle in the Southern League.

#48 Gigg Lane, Bury

Bury 3 Bristol Rovers 0
Tuesday 14th March 2017, League One

With it looking fairly unlikely at this late point in the season that Rovers would be going either up or down in the league this year, I wasn't massively looking to go to any more away games. However legendary Gas Marie Curie fundraiser Matt, aka The Rovers Ram, very kindly offered me a spot in his car and as I had the afternoon off work anyway it seemed that I wouldn't get a better opportunity to tick off this far-flung and historic league ground.

Based in the Greater Manchester town of Bury, the Shakers had most of their success prior to the World Wars winning a duo of FA Cups in 1900 and 1903. Bury were so successful in the first half of the 20th century that they didn't leave the top two divisions of the football league until 1957, an impressive 63 seasons. Since then they've been a lower league outfit but they did have a brief stint in the Championship in the late 90s. Rovers had a long-shot chance of reaching the play-offs, sitting in 8th place, 4 points from 6th-placed Millwall but with games in hand for the teams around them. Bury on the other hand were facing a relegation scrap, in 19th place, two places above the drop zone, 3 points above 21st placed Port Vale.

We set off from Parkway at 2:30 in the Ramobile, stopping only briefly in a lay-by to allow Terry to answer nature's call and have a little jog. We found plenty of space to park up upon arriving at Gigg Lane and dived into the club bar which was full of the ever-present away day faces of the supporters club coach. If this wasn't enough of a home comfort for the travelling West Country faithful, the clubhouse had Kingston Press on tap along with the standard mysterious brown northern ales called things like Courageous Victory, Grubby Sheep Best and John Robert Frank Steve's Bitter.

Bury have been at Gigg Lane since 1885 but it was completely rebuilt to modern standards in the 1990s. It is now an all-seated, all-covered ground with a capacity of 11,840. It's quite a wide and open feeling ground especially when you come in the visitors entrance and walk through the empty corner towards the Cemetery End where away fans are seated. All the four stands in the ground are of a similar height and are single-tiered with fairy shallow elevation. Only the main stand has any kind of elevated seating with small sets of steps leading up to it. The Cemetery End and Les Hart Stand curve into one another and could almost be thought of as one stand, whereas the Main and Manchester Road Stands are separate from all others.

Regarding our immediate surroundings what struck me immediately about The Cemetery End was just how shallow the elevation was, we were stood about two-thirds up and I still felt about level with the pitch. It was nice and spacious with the 346 travelling Gasheads able to sit or stand where they pleased without risk of impeding anyone's view. It's also the only stand in the ground with no supporting pillars to get in the way. The only downside is the fairly sizeable gap between the stand and the pitch but it's not a deal breaker. Apart from the side nearest the car park the whole ground is surrounded by trees which gives it a nice secluded feel despite it being in the middle of town. All in all another all-seater stadium I actually quite liked. This League One lark is making me a bit prawn sandwich. The home fans did have a drum in the stand though which did embitter me to them somewhat.

The game was one to forget from a Rovers point of view as the Lancashire-born referee Ben Toner dismissed our tame Catweazle impersonator/midfielder Stuart Sinclair after 39 minutes for a pair of apparent dives. Now Stuey has his strengths and weaknesses and his fair of share of detractors but I don't believe he's the kind of player that dives. I've poured over the highlights and the first yellow is admittedly hard to judge but I can't see why he'd dive in such a central area. The second yellow however looks a lot like he had his heels clipped but he seemed to be a marked man by that point and was shown red. The most infuriating incident however was Bury's penalty which looked most like a dive of the three incidents. Reading Bury's forum a few of their fans seem to think so too. It was supposedly Mansell that gave it away but I can't see that he touched Leigh anywhere but on his arm, which doesn't to me warrant an arms-out collapse to the ground. Bryon Moore was closer than Mansell to the incident but Leigh looked to be already on his way to the ground as he passed behind.

From that point onward we knew we were going home with a point at best. Tom Lockyer had a go from outside the box but his shot got a deflection which hit the post. Lee Brown looked certain to net the rebound but Tom Pope spread himself onto the floor quickly enough to send it into the side netting. At 65 minutes James Vaughn bangs in a volley for the unmarked diving scoundrel Leigh to nod in. Lumley falls the wrong way but he didn't have much of a chance from such close range. I'm not sure what Moore was up to as he was the closest man to Leigh but it was a well set up goal from Bury.

The routing is complete when Miller gets the ball in acres of space from the Bury half, walks it past Sweeney who looks scared to risk a tackle in the box and blasts it in top corner. A shame but nights like this will happen and to paraphrase Marilyn Monroe if you can't handle us at our Bury away you don't deserve us at our Northampton at home. Just to rub it in we had to drive around rural Cheshire for two hours because the motorway was closed on the way back and we got lost. Yet another successful away day in the North West of England for this blog, good job there are so few of them in this league left for me to tick off...

#47 Bristol Road, Portishead Town

Portishead Town 0 Oldland Abbotonians 1
Tuesday 7th March 2017, Western League First Division 

Venturing out on my first midweek trip for a while, I hopped across the Avonmouth Bridge to the North Somerset seaside resort of Portishead, famous for trip-hop, Adge Cutler and weird minimalist beach sculptures. Portishead Town joined the Western League in 2005, after making a nuisance of themselves in the Somerset County League by winning it five times in seven seasons from 1991/92 to 1997/98 and then being runners-up in four consecutive seasons from 2001/02 until their ascent, by which time everyone was probably thoroughly fed up with them. They made strong start to life in the Western League, consolidating in 2005/6 with an 8th place finish then finishing as runners up the season after but failed to go up do to ground grading. Since then it's been mostly mid to low table finishes for Posset, the most disappointing being 2013/14 when they finished bottom of the league. Today they sit at a more respectable 10th place. 

Oldland Abbotonians were formed in 1998 as a merger between Somerset-based Longwell Green Abbotonians and South Gloucestershire-based Oldland. Their home, Aitchison Playing Field, is in the South Glos village of Oldland Common near Bitton. Oldland were promoted to the Western League two seasons after Portishead and like their rivals this evening were able to finish as runners up early on in 2010/11, also without promotion. They come into tonight's fixture 18th out of 22 teams.

Bristol Road is another fairly basic Western League ground befitting of a club from a small town that have only relatively recently made the step-up to this level. Portishead share the site with Gordano Valley Cricket Club so it's a vast space with a long walk between the clubhouse and the pitch. The football portion of the ground has two stands, a small covered metal seated stand on the far side of the ground and another large covered stand near the entrance. The stand near the entrance is a bit of an odd one. If you, as a teenager, ever formed a terrible rock band and were forced into a cramped garage full of assorted bits of dusty furniture to practice by your parents, you'll probably feel quite a home in this stand.

The walls of the stand are made of sturdy blue-painted cinderblock and the roof is made of less sturdy wood which has crumbled in the corners over the years. The wooden beams in the roof and the random assortment of tables only added to this overall feeling of garage. The rest of the ground is that familiar combination of hard standing concrete and white metal railing. There is also a building containing the changing rooms and tea hut which has a small roof and some railings of it's own and a lady who I assume was the cook spent the half watching from here. The ground is situated next to a steel works so all sorts of weird machinery can be seen dotted between the trees in the distance.

As I entered the ground and did my lap around the perimeter a ball got loose and hit a crowd member squarely in the groin. I enjoyed this far too much and should probably extend my apologies to the gent in question. The evening of physical comedy continued towards the end of the first half when the ball went up high and a large clod of mud flew off and hit an elderly chap on the head. Judging by the way he didn't so much as blink during this aerial assault, it would seem he was too engrossed in the game to notice. A doff of the cap to this soggy stalwart.

In terms of the game itself Portishead were the team keeping hold of the ball and passing better but Oldland spent more time in attacking positions in the opposition's half. The first chance of note came from the home side, as a short corner was worked into the centre between two players, only for the third to scuff the final product hideously giving away possession in the process. This was the beginning of many woes up front for Portishead and their humorously named players Cookie and Twigsy.

Blowers kicking it in "the bush". Immortalised in mural form.

Throughout the game the ref was getting absolute dog's abuse from at least three people at any given time. It was probably the most feisty game I've seen at this level. Not violent, although there was a bit of handbags after one tackle, just quite bile filled. I couldn't see that the ref did much wrong during the first half but it didn't stop anyone on the pitch or in the technical areas having a good old shout. One lightning rod of criticism was a poor Portishead forward named Tyler who received the bulk of advice bellows from his comrades. I genuinely feel that Portishead's general fury towards one and other might have had something to do with them losing the game as they often piled on right after a mistake while the ball was still in play.

Right at the end of the first half Portishead forced a very good one-handed save from distance but it was Oldland who scored the only goal of the game in the 53rd minute. A daisy cutter was sent forward to David Saffer who turned to lose the defenders and stick it in the top of the net.

Not great but nothing on Viktoria Žižkov.

From this moment on Portishead battled hard and got forward but could not find a goal. Free headers go begging, goal-line scrambles come to nothing, shots go wide and Tyler ponders whether spending his Saturdays gardening might be more fulfilling. The last action was a free-kick from about 25 yards that Oli Trevarthen blasted dangerously towards the top corner of the Oldland goal only to have it palmed away by Shaun Semmens who had a very good game.

It was good to get another tick in the Western League from a ground that's so accessible from my flat that it's pretty stupid that I hadn't done it yet. You can expect a few more North Somerset games in the near future. For now though it was time to get home and prepare myself for the big Bury trip next week.