SHIREBROOK TOWN 2-4 PARKGATE: A LIGHTHEARTED LOOK AT MY ONLY VISIT TO SHIREBROOK IN 2009-10, WHICH I TOTALLY LOVED...

Shirebrook Is A Town…

Shirebrook is a town. I was surprised. No colliery survived but, seven miles or so from the M1, the town flourished. I turned into Langwith Road and noticed the floodlights of the football ground, pulled onto what looked like the car-park but it was full and seemed to be serving the ‘Staff Club’, a bar and function room. I gambled, left the car-park, turned right onto Langwith Road and although I could see the stadium behind the clubhouse, it was not clear in the darkness how to access it. A roundabout gave me an answer, for I could see a couple of vehicles parked at the far side of an undulating grassy area, which turned out to lead to the turnstile. The access was from the left edge of the original car-park and so I negotiated the unmarked entrance and parked in partial darkness, for only one pair of floodlights was actually on. And there I saw it: ‘council’ green paint. Blighted, plagued and in my sleep, I was haunted by it. 

WHERE I MOVED TO IN ORDER TO COVER THE MATCH BETTER.
I WAS 'PRESS' FOR A WHILE...

Right from my earliest recollection of visiting a dentist’s surgery in Ward End, Birmingham, a chap known as ‘The Butcher’, the green and cream decor had always spooked me. Municipal buildings were often painted with that bottle green paint too, as if it was the cheapest available…   

HAUNTED BY GREEN...

There was no staple in my match programme. I would like to have that phrase printed in French on a t-shirt for when I next visit Boisson, perhaps this summer. I once had ‘There is no tap in my washbasin’ printed in Spanish on a black t-shirt for my first holiday there in 1980. I was not arrested. 

HE MUST HAVE BEEN A SALT OF THE EARTH TYPE...

I hate that green paint though. It was daubed on the perimeter fencing and even on the hunched dugouts in front of me and the grandstand seats dulled under the same colour. Radio Leicester Sound was blaring from a working loudspeaker as I sat alone, being encouraged by the ad-breaks to take a chlamydia test on no less than four occasions, along with most of the inhabitants of the town of Shirebrook, confirming one of my two main dislikes of commercial radio. The other is the inane chatter, hence the lack of music variety. I guess I am old… 

THE SNACK BAR AND THE STREET, WHICH WAS THE MAIN AUDIENCE FOR THE RADIO BLAST...

The time crawled towards 8pm and a late kick-off, although I had no idea that such an arrangement had been made but maybe the three officials had also been nauseated by the green surroundings and were thus shy to emerge from the dressing-rooms. There was a pair of signs in front of about four seats, both saying ‘PRESS’ and I did so but nothing happened. 

THE DARK PRESS...

Damaged plastic chairs hung at arthritic angles and I hoped that the seat that I had chosen would withstand my veteran weight. It did but chilled my buttocks which ached in protest. Shirebrook was a town, a very cold town. Sensible folks had stayed at home to watch England stutter against Egypt. I hadn’t.

DISLOCATED BUM RESTS, BLUE WITH BRUISING, PERHAPS...

The cubicles in the male toilet block were self-assembly, I presumed, so with my history of B & Q self-assembly days within marriage, I chose to defer any heavy-duty excretion until I arrived home, for although communal toilets might have been acceptable inside a Roman fort in Rocester, the thought of chatting to a fellow at the urinals from a wooden seat didn’t fill me with joy. I even looked around for the sponges on sticks. There weren’t any. 

IN ORDER TO SEE IT, AS WELL AS SMELL IT...

Anyway, Shirebrook, although a town, was a decent colliery town.

And I really must kick the habit of returning errant footballs to players during the warm-up period, for I am afflicted by the ability to chip, clip, or volley the leather against perimeter rails. It’s my one weakness… And then I became colder. I moved to the ‘PRESS’ seats, so I could lean on a stained dais, able therefore to slip bluish hands into warm, woollen pockets whilst not scribbling notes about the latest Parkgate goal, or the inability of Shirebrook to snatch victory from the jaws of, er, victory…

DARK GREEN DUGOUTS...

On my journey back to Solihull, the M1 was crawling with men who throw cones onto the road surface and belong to a secret society called ‘Workforce In Road’, leaving me crawling as usual for fifteen miles, only to be further delayed by the closure of the M42 from J10 to J9. As the members of the society’s main aim was to delay my journey home as much as possible, their cones were only just being tossed like Highland Games cabers as I exited at J10 and I ended up following the wrong set of ‘Diversion’ signs through Tamworth, past where I lived for two years and finally accessing the M42 again via Kingsbury. 

I was home half-an-hour later than I should have been, hugged a hot water bottle before bedtime and pondered Shirebrook, a town. 

A very cold town…

But one I liked nearly as much as the football ground, despite the predominance of ‘council’ green paint…

Oh, yeah, the game...

OMG! GREEN...

Shirebrook Town 2 Parkgate 4

(2009-10…)

Attendance: 55 

Despite looking menacing on a number of occasions, Shirebrook’s resolve was undone in a period of ten minutes, immediately after half-time, when the visitors regained their original lead achieved on 38 minutes with a devastating spell of three goals. Shirebrook’s defence crumbled like a Norfolk cliff into the North Sea, as the temperature descended and Parkgate took away the prized three points. Gascoigne kept the visitors ticking, striker Senior was too effective for the home defence to shackle but credit to home forward Stubley, who foraged dangerously until the end and deserved the two goals he snapped up.

AN UNGUARDED NET...

Parkgate took the lead on 36 minutes, when a weak pass by Wainman still found Swindells who turned and drove a shot from 16 yards but Pressman took off left and turned the ball away for a corner in spectacular fashion. After the subsequent corner was cleared, another centre flew across from the right, where Senior challenged for it, was hurt and in a scramble, Swindells shot again, only for his effort to be deflected for a another right-wing flag-kick. Senior rose, 7 yards out and headed Gascoigne’s delivery goalwards but no defender could prevent the looped ball from entering the Shirebrook net.

Incredibly, Stubley then showed how easy it really can be to score, by equalising two minutes later. Rhodes put him clear, centrally, after Jones’ hesitation had allowed right-back Rowbottom to steal possession near the half-way line and the nippy striker side-footed the ball past the advancing Hewitt’s left hand from 16 yards, into the bottom right corner of goal.

On 43 minutes, just as the half was about to expire, Shirebrook took a surprise lead. Peel cleared danger, Tansley poked his customary first-timer forward and Stubley had gone, with the visiting defenders appealing for offside, only to be moaned at by their own coaching staff! Stubley was confident, drifted left of the advancing Hewitt and slotted home into an empty net. 2-1 and a scoreline which had seemed so unlikely after thirty-five minutes of struggle and effort but some neat play had at least hinted at the possibility of a more entertaining spectacle. If Whalley had taken a great opportunity just after the break, maybe Shirebrook would not have succumbed to the Parkgate resurgence. 

Rhodes’ flick sent Whalley clear, onside for once, in the inside-right channel but the forward’s lob was too high from 16 yards. Parkgate broke from this in the 49^th minute and Senior picked up possession to make a diagonal run towards the right side of the penalty-box and he angled a great head-high drive from 14 yards across the dive of Pressman and into the left corner of the net. 

A right-wing corner on 54 minutes saw Senior get up for a header, Pressman managed to parry the ball away but Johnson was lurking at the right upright to poke the ball just inside the post, to regain the lead for the ebullient visitors. 

It was soon 4-2, four minutes later, after two substitutions had been made; Caine replaced Parkgate’s struggling Swindells and Davey replaced injured left-back Shaw for Shirebrook. Gascoigne, always available for Parkgate, waited to curl a left-footed free-kick in from deep on the right but with players going for and missing the ball, 8 yards out, Pressman’s attention was drawn to the falling bodies and the shot bounced embarrassingly past the ‘keeper and into the unguarded net.

MORE GREEN...

BLUE SEATS SPOTTED...

The strength of Mitchell, the guile of Gascoigne and the ability of Senior won the game for Parkgate but credit to Bettison for much of his play for Shirebrook and to Stubley for his brace of goals and general contribution, although Whalley didn’t really connect too often with his strike partner during the evening. Hampstead could be useful with his pacy runs but Bettison needed more support in midfield, really, where Gascoigne dominated without really going hell for leather. Pressman may well be disappointed, bar his fine save from Swindells but perhaps Parkgate deserved the victory, hard fought against the relegation threatened Shirebrook…  

WE LIKED THE PRESS TABLE...