FAVOURITE NON-LEAGUE GROUNDS: Kimberley Town FC on my first visit in 2009, a 2-8 loss to league runners-up Forest Town...

 KIMBERLEY TOWN FC…

(2008-09, final match of the season: Kimberley Town 2-8 Forest Town...)

I had been told to look for an antiques shop on the road into the village and squeeze through a narrow passage to access the car-park of Kimberley Town FC. There was a children’s playground on my immediate left, totally and typically deserted, the second one near a stadium in a week, after the one on a hill at Radcliffe-on-Trent the previous Saturday. Same opposition too, oddly… Daisies grew un-trodden, where children should have been exercising and after purchasing a programme, full of pages of match reports, advertisements, blank pages and unnecessary information, I kicked a ball about with a groundhopper and his son in the play-area. And trod down the daisies. 

THE OUTSIDE VIEW...

There was a clubhouse, rather like a shack with a wide-screen television; the tea was brown, my chocolate bar cold and the toilets came with a tea-lady health warning. I was told to use the Ladies’ and so I did at half-time, whereas others braved the Gents’, which a laughing local confirmed I should avoid at all costs because I would be walking in it…

A-PEELING...

NEEDED ATTENTION...

The pitch gave the impression that someone had prised one corner away from the earth and fly-tipped beneath it. It was surely like having to be a fell-runner to take a right-wing corner at the far end but the dug-outs were isolated like tortoises deposited on the edges of a farmer’s fallow field. 

UP THE GRASSY BANK...

I was impressed by a wrecked hut, the surrounding trees, the grassy terrace and the one shed, beneath which an umbrella-challenged supporter could shelter near the clubhouse, at one end of the Stags’ stadium.

LIKED THE SHED...

SHELTER...

NO BEATING ABOUT THE BUSHES...

A lady in an electric wheelchair from Forest Town was unsure about the angle of the bank but her male companion rode the wall of death with some success, after her haranguing comments to him, although I was rather surprised when she strolled past me some time later and disappeared towards the amenities… 

The blackboard, attached to a side of the shed was a real benefit to sad statisticians and I duly copied down the names of local lads, such as Brianto, Passo, Owusu and the rural Oxborrow.

BACK AT SCHOOL, COPYING FROM THE BLACKBOARD...

I stood with a scout from Sheffield United, who gave me a Bolton Wanderers business card but he seemed to support Hull and yet was a representative of Westella Willerby. I think… Well, I supported Truro, followed Retford Badgers, admired Ilkeston and had a soft spot for Coalville, so we quite obviously got on well, so I thought. 

We marvelled at the referee’s insistence on investigating whether Forest Town could slot three penalties into the same bottom corner of the Kimberley net for his thesis and if Kimberley could dampen the Forest fire by alternating their defencemen ad hoc. The answers to the questions were yes and no…

I STOOD ON THE FAR SIDE...

ISOLATED DUGOUT...

YOU CAN'T BEAT A GRASSY KNOLL...

Spectators barracked the official and one man was bored with the penalty awards but generally, the groundhoppers were excited because there was a programme, some refreshments, somewhere to urinate and ten goals. The Kimberley players were already looking forward to shedding their pre-summer pounds and to my pleasant surprise, the Forest players were awarded their league runners-up gifts, which looked like shredded Lonsdale belts. 

SOMEONE HAS FOUND A NOVEL PLACE TO INSERT HIS TROPHY...

The league official made no fuss, the successful combatants smiled a lot, I took a few photos and an odd chap bent forwards to read the inscriptions just seconds before the mementoes were actually handed out. The Hull fan watched the television, learning that his Tigers had secured a point at Bolton’s ground, like a spaceship which has landed in the dull Lancashire countryside and we all drove home for tea and cakes. 

THE INTERESTED SPECTATOR WRECKED MY IMAGE...

Except one groundhopper, who was faced with a long, long walk to an obscure railway station and then, judging by his accent, a long train journey to the south-east. Grassroots must have been his one weakness… 

I loved it there...

THE GAME…

Forest had certainly needed a victory in this game, for Calverton won their final match of the season on the day, meaning a defeat of the Stags was imperative. The manner of the 8-2 hammering was very interesting; the Forest offense raced through the static home defence like a winter tide through the embers of a damaged wooden pier, the official awarded three penalties to the visitors, all of which were dragged low to the Kimberley ‘keeper’s right, yet despite the drubbing, hosts’ striker Ryan smacked two great goals at the start of the second period… Awards were given to the visitors at the final whistle in a stifled celebration and a windy Kimberley was vacated as the season ended, following a more than entertaining offering.

NEAT VIEW...

Forest were better, no doubt… Kimberley were dishevelled and disrupted but their forwards were led by their one success, Ryan, whose running was lively and two of his shots quite devastating. The ‘keeper tried hard, others produced effort but little more. The visitors made so many goalscoring opportunities against surely a makeshift defensive line, that it was like placing a line of does to face a marauding row of antler-sharpened stags: no real contest at all… And with the official seemingly in admiration of the visitors’ abilities and awarding those three penalties, the hosts might just as well have stayed home to await a telephone call to see if they were on the retained list…