Home sweet home
Random picture, yesterday
By Mr Frivolous
July 24 2014
Flicking through the news recently saw some of our old favourites rumble through, a certain Uruguayan bit someone, an ageing ex- icon up before the beak, phone hacking and last but not least the annual planning permission saga for the Rec.
As per usual the mere mention of the word “Rec” from even the gentlest of enquirer sends Mr Frivolous into a full blooded red faced apoplexy of frustration, hearing the commotion the office the Tea Boy rushed in to offer some soothing words and a friendly arm round the shoulders “It could be a lot worse...”. Now we know the facilities at the Rec could be described as quaint at best by those of looking through blue, black and white tinted glasses and we all know what some of our less charitable visitors say. So here’s a selection of visits to ease the frustration as it could be, indeed, be a lot worse.
Saracens – Vicarage Road, Watford
Now let’s face it Watford is not on everybody’s holiday destination top ten add in a Vicarage Road that perhaps needing a lick of paint or maybe pulling down at the time of the visit in 2007. I remember that one side of the ground was “closed” for repairs or perhaps condemned. The hospitality boxes had been bolted on the one remaining side leading to a rather strange diversion round them to our seats. Now before you say people in glass houses etc. what makes this a gem is a Sarries fan asking how it felt to be in a real ground! Thank heavens Sarries have found another home! Still, winning 30-31 made the trip worthwhile.
West Hartlepool – Brierton Road, Hartlepool
Situated on the North East coast the North Sea breeze finds its way in to every exposed nook and cranny and that’s just summer! My visit was a long time ago just as professionalism in union was taking hold which eventually took a heavy price on Wests. Not a bad ground in those days though funded by a then innovative lottery, just really exposed. Why is it on the list? Go for a night out in Hartlepool!
Dings Crusaders – Lockleaze, Bristol
Now this is not any fixture list that Bath would know but visited this fine old rugby club a couple of years ago with a friend who supported the opposition who despite his obvious set back we were made exceptionally welcome. Quoting from the wiki entry “It is one of the oldest clubs in Bristol, with its roots in a slum area of Bristol stretching back 110 years”, they weren’t wrong. The clubhouse as the only building, single storied, and a beer stained (I hope that was what it was) carpet it could be one of many rugby clubs. Included in the list as the journey to the ground passed through a housing estate where even the parked cars had boarded up windows. That should have been a clue as when we returned the car was gone! I urge you to visit and support a grass roots club but just go by bus.
I’m sure all of the COML crew have some better anecdotes, so please add!
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Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 2014:08:22:22:17:19 by Stuart Anderton.
Anyway, my three for consideration.
1. Southwold, Suffolk. The finest that Eastern Counties League Division 4 (in, err, Southwold) could produce. The pitch was a flint-strewn death trap early season, the coldest place in the UK being open to the north sea throughout the winter and only vaguely playable come march or april. The town is wonderfully upmarket - the clubhouse not so. It was little more than a garden shed at the end of a track through some fields. A place to get changed, showered, and leave asap. Still, the Adnams was soo good.
2. Islay. Irregular pilgrimages over 20 years to play games v the island. I represented RSPB, not well-liked among the farmers on the island when we started. First game wasa 7s tournament, on pitches adjacent to the airport. We had to stop a game half way through, and take the goal posts down when the daily plane was due to arrive. Most games were up near Bowmore, changing rooms were a container. Showers were at the sports centre. Pre match entertainment, laid on by the host, was a visit to the distillery where the guide, incredulously, left us in the bar as she escorted her next set of visitors around the site. Club chairman position appears to move around each of the distilleries - half-time drinks were whichever whisky the chairman championed.Didn't catch the ball once all game. Pain didn't kick in until the next morning - with a vengeance. They have an annual beach rugby tournament - never made it, regretfully.
3. Albert Park, Suva. Not the national stadium, but it does have a stand. It has 4 rugby pitches crammed into the area. All 4 pitches have games on, in a roll-on roll-off fashion, every saturday, from 9am till 5pm. Quality of the games so so. Lots of women supporters (no men, they all have to play!!!). Tries are appreciated but the hits are what everyones there for. No wonder the locals are bemused when they're penalised for this stuff at international level. Tiny changing rooms that no-one uses. Teams just pile out of trucks half an hour before the game, and pile back in when finished, presumably to go back to their clubhouses. Picnics brought along, dalo wedges (potatoes for real men) used to scoop corned beef out the tin. A special atmosphere.
Apologies for the long message - got carried away, reminiscing.
OBinExile
We were met from the ferry at the hotel which was the agreed rendezvous to be told that due to a dispute over rent the ground usually used by Tangier RFC was not available. We were assured however that all was OK as a park pitch had been booked.
2 minibuses took us to the park, where we found a large and expectant crowd - maybe as many as 2-3,00 (about the same as West Hartlepool used to draw) - but no pitch. There was a large, dusty wasteland, strewn with rocks, rubbish and broken glass & no posts.
"Posts no problem" we were assured by our hosts -and sure enough these arrived shortly after on the back of a truck. Several of the home team erected the posts while the rest of them, supported by the Gibraltar All Stars and some of the crowd, attempted to clear the pitch to render it safe to play.
After an hour and a quarter we had managed to remove the worst of the rocks and old broken bottles - but few of us felt comfortable with the idea of playing on it. As our opponents were mostly French expats - who made it clear that they would take a very dim view of the Brits if we declined to play, we reluctantly accepted our duty.
We changed in a shipping container, then played 2 halves of 35 minutes in 28 degree heat. Tackling proved optional (as you might imagine) although the French guys had a well honed technique of grabbing their victims around the shoulders and judo throwing them to ground. The biggest hazard though was dust as the Tangier backs were great jinkers and side-steppers: these actions throwing up grit into the eyes of any unwary enough to opt for low tackles.
Surprisingly, this being effectively an Anglo-French encounter (with the "Anglos" reinforced by some very hot-bloodedly latin Gibraltarians), there was only one punch -up. The Tangier backs played the kind of rugby which the French teams of the 70s favoured and we were very lucky to concede only 3 tries. As we managed 2 of our own to keep the score respectable we felt that we had not done too badly. The pitch though was no incentive to a return and the following year we chose to visit Portugal to find our grass rugby.
PG