FLASHBACK: A DAY IN GRESLEY, 2008-09, TO SEE SPALDING LOSE 5-0... Light-hearted article by THE MOWDOG...

An Afternoon In Gresley…

Off School Street was Moat Street and at the end of the short access road was the stadium, sad red in parts and looking to be in some disrepair. A car-park lay on the dog-leg right corner at the football stadium: a piece of rough ground taped off. I missed the entrance and was forced along a tight one-way system between cramped houses but at the start of lap two, I remembered to pull into the lot. 

Arrival. View from the parking-lot...

It was drizzling rain, which hardly lifted my low spirits but I walked to the turnstiles where a large, official lady was giving directions to a man in a car, who had also missed the car-park’s entrance. I advised him too and entered the stadium. It was a conglomeration of leaning, odd-shaped buildings, the Hospitality Lounge even perched high over toilets and slightly above the low-angled roof of the main stand. 

How do I get in?

Hospitality. For anyone who can climb...
The guy on the left has seen 'Gents', so is standing there.

The playing surface was obviously a problem. There was a significant slope and I could see several areas of undulating turf, as if tree roots were attempting to show their power or a magnificent badger was on the rampage underground, building a sett of several storeys. I was fascinated by the swooping, swerving landscape, constantly reminding myself that I was not studying a ruffled green carpet on a hillside. The shelters, beneath which rather bedraggled spectators huddled, were like red topped bus shelters for a working town’s population to snuggle under after 5pm. A sign on one wall warned of the consequences of climbing onto the roof. No risk assessment needed there, then…

Through the net @ Gresley...

Fine then...

Equality @ Gresley.
Seats all the same. Politically VERY correct?

Undulating Gresley...

Gresley.net...

Behind the goals at the top of the hill stood a man in his garden, awaiting the game’s kick-off. I remarked that he had a fine vantage point and that he should sell plots in his garden. He told me that I could have parked “…outside number 91…” when I told him I’d had to do an extra lap of the one-way system to return to the parking area but in the next garden, a ladder lay askew and a hole hung in the high netting, which presumably prevented balls being lost and subsequently pawned by the locals. The netting reminded me of a mediaeval fort defending itself from catapult rocks and I was really getting into the mood of moats, Castle Gresley, when I noticed the  warlike nickname of the visitors, er, The Tulips… Hmm, I wonder if they’ve ever done well in the Vase?

Not the prettiest corner of the ground...

Even the roof opposite undulates.
My mind undulated.
I was an Undulator...

The protective netting failed to stop any of the countless balls which were lumped high over the meagre shelters by bludgeoning defenders. And then I saw the Gresley mascot. Gods, I think it was a dog, or a bear, or perhaps a donkey? Whatever it was, it was hunchbacked and wore a surgical collar, as well as sporting a Gresley shirt. It was barely able to kick a ball properly and made one very young boy, also a mascot, appear like a Brazilian beach footballer in comparison.

The ladder, the netting, the er, creature...

During the game, the Spalding manager was encouraging his erratic defenders to “…put your foot through it…”, before the visiting number 5 told the ball to “Fuck off…” when he misjudged it totally and the Gresley manager spat with gusto, geeing up his number seven, Woodall with, “Keep workin’ Brian…”, at which point I nearly spat out my Mars Bar. And then Spalding’s substitute Ward, number 12, after strutting his stuff confidently during half-time, replaced the ailing number five at the break and it appeared as though Paul Jewel had given up the day job…

That animal is about to nick the little kid's ball...
Note the flat cap, foreground...

The lino', right, plays scissors, stone and paper with the next player in the line...

Sadly for the replacement, who tried so hard but simply hooked the ball forward whenever it came to him on the right flank, he then scored, raced off celebrating and encouraging his colleagues to get another goal back but then realised that he had been flagged offside and yet another Tulip wilted wistfully on the windy, wandering slopes of Castle Gresley… 

Journey home...

Spalding lost 5-0.