THE BEAUTIFUL GAME

DATELINE: Trefrew Park, Camelford, Saturday, September 14, 2019

MATCH: Camelford AFC v Ashton & Backwell United

CUP: The Buildbase FA Vase

ROUND: Second Qualifying Round

PICTURES: See http://www.facebook.com/cupfootballblogger/ 

THE BLOG: Football supporters often argue over who is the greatest player of all time. Modern fans wonder if it is Barcelona legend Lionel Messi or the seemingly unstoppable Christian Ronaldo? Older fans will argue a case for the likes of Sir Stanley Matthews or John Charles. Some will cite Bobby Moore or Franz Beckenbauer.

It’s all a bit of pointless argument. Not because it is impossible to really compare players from different eras but because the whole thing has already been settled. To my mind, at least. The best player of all time was Brazil’s most famous number 10, Pele. Or Edson Arantes do Nascimento to give him his, er, given name.

For a boy who grew up in the 1960s and 70s, who fell irretrievably, impossibly, deeply, head over heels in love with football as a seven-year-old watching the 1970 World Cup, there will never be a better team than the Brazilian side who won the Jules Rimet trophy in the Azteca Stadium. And the star of that side, the indisputable best player, was the great Pele. There had never been anyone like him before and there has been no one to match him since. Pele is, was and always will be the greatest.

He also coined the best phrase to describe how we all feel about this fantastic sport. There is some dispute over whether he was actually the first one to use it but the title of his autobiography summed it up perfectly: My Life and The Beautiful Game.

The beautiful game.

That’s what it is for anyone who is a football fan.

Now, it’s a long way from the arenas and rarefied atmospheres in which Pele plied his beautiful trade, like the Maracana and Wembley and even New York, to the rather less celebrated football surroundings of Trefrew Park, Camelford, but the beauty of the beautiful game is still in evidence, even at this seemingly lowly level.

For a start, especially on a beautiful late summer/early autumn day such as last Saturday, Trefrew Park’s setting is, simply, quite beautiful.

The first impression on arriving on Saturday was the gorgeous smell of cut grass, more reminiscent of a cricket ground in the spring than a football ground in September.

And then there was the view behind the top goal. Standing stark in the sharp sunshine was the granite form of Rough Tor (pronounced row, as in argument, tor), sitting proudly above the glory that is Bodmin Moor. It is the second highest point in the whole of Cornwall, standing at 400 metres (1,313 feet) above sea level, and it is magnificent. I love scenery like that and there aren’t many grounds in a better setting. Beautiful.

So, even before a ball was kicked in anger, beauty was in the air. And, as it was to turn out, a moment of pure footballing beauty would ultimately settle this hard-fought FA Vase tie. But, before that, there was a moment of no beauty at all.

It happened ten minutes before kick-off and it happened to me.

I had just walked up the grass bank to the fence surrounding the pitch and was still taking in the beautiful view when the home keeper, right at the end of his pre-match warm-up, shanked a goal-kick towards the touchline. Immediately I saw that it was heading straight for me and prepared myself for an early moment of ball retrieval glory.

I got in line, judged the bounce perfectly and, as the ball bounced over the fence, I got into the perfect position and collected the ball with both hands. Perfect.

And then I fell over.

On to the hard concrete path that runs down the touchline.

I don’t know why I fell. I didn’t need to dive to get the ball. My feet, I thought, were planted. Everything was in the correct position. Maybe I just channelled my inner goalkeeper and threw myself down but, all of a sudden I was on the ground, with a concerned Camelford player leaning over the fence, looking at me prone on the ground and inquiring in a slightly worried voice: “Are you OK, mate?”

I nodded an embarrassed yes, refused his helping hand, crawled to my feet, and threw the ball back. I felt like a total idiot, but also slightly proud that I still had hold of the football.

As the players trooped off to get ready to come back on again, I wandered around to a different part of the ground in the hope that no one would notice that I had fallen, despite the blood on my elbow and the limp caused by bashing both knees at once.

Now, as I slowly regathered my equilibrium, I must admit that much of the first 20 minutes of the game passed me by a bit. This was the first-ever meeting between the two teams and they were clearly sizing each other up in that opening period while I concentrated on a stock-take of my injuries.

One of the great things about the FA Vase is that players and supporters get the chance to watch someone new, teams that they would never normally have the chance to see. Camelford play in the Kitchen Kit South West Peninsula League Premier Division West. Ashton & Backwell play their football at the same level, Step Six, but this time in the Toolstation Western League Division One and the two clubs’ paths had never crossed before. This was an intriguing tie, not only for the faithful followers of The Camels and The Stags, but also for the neutral observer – which was me.

However, I must admit that I was not entirely neutral. I have lived in Cornwall for almost a decade now and a little bit of Cornishness has seeped into my soul. So any contest between a team from the Duchy and a bunch from “upcountry” will see my sentiments lean towards the Cornish club.

But, still stronger than my Cornish soul, is my London one. That’s where I am from, where I grew up, and anyone who has ever read this blog will know that Millwall is my team. So when a team rocks up in what they describe as “maroon and blue” but which actually looks like the red and blue stripes of the hated Crystal Palace, I let irrationality take over and generally take against them. Ashton & Backwell United, The Stags, looked too much like The Eagles for my liking. That’s football fan logic for you!

Mind you, there wasn’t much to dislike about them in the first half. After the hosts dominated the first ten minutes, A&B United took control and really should have been ahead by half-time. However, their neat and tidy tippy-tappy football lacked a cutting edge and the chances they did create were wasted. For that, they were to pay a heavy price.

Half-time came with the game goalless and then something else beautiful happened. I got a free cup of tea.

This was given to me by the club secretary who I believe to be called Hilary. I never actually asked her name during our half-time chat but I found her name in the programme later. Apologies if I have got that wrong. Everyone else in the ground would have known who she was, though, as she has served the club for 30 years. Camelford is that sort of club. Manager Reg Hambly – the team is sponsored by Reg Hambly Insurance Brokers – is now in his 29th season as the gaffer.  It is a beautiful place so, once you are there, why rush to leave?

Another beautiful gesture was to provide the visitors with a cream tea to enjoy. “We wanted them to have something special, something Cornish,” said the secretary. “And we wanted them to know the right way to do it too, with jam on first.” Turns out it was a beautiful gesture with a point!

What wouldn’t have been beautiful for me would have been a goalless draw to add footballing insult to my actual injuries, but fears of that disappeared early in the second half.

Camelford were awarded a free-kick on the edge of the box, the direct shot from it was parried by the Ashton goalkeeper and Camels’ captain Adam Sleep was on hand to knock home the rebound – so 1-0 to the home side.

Ten minutes later, Camelford won another free-kick in an almost identical position. This time, though, taker Bobby Hopkinson needed no help to extend the lead. He curled an absolute beauty into the top corner, giving the keeper no chance and putting the hosts 2-0 up.

It really was a special moment. A lot of players at a much higher level would have been proud of that strike, of its precision. What a goal. Hopkinson just stood there with arms outstretched and soaked up the adulation of his team-mates and the crowd. Beautiful.

The Stags, though, were not done yet. They still believed that they could get back into the game and, with about 15 minutes to go, they were awarded a penalty after a trip in the box and halved the deficit with the spot-kick.

There then followed a properly nervy and frantic final few minutes as a real cup tie broke out. It had been a bit of a slow burner but now it really caught fire. Even I grew nervous, catching it from the jumpy people around me, I reckon, while the secretary said afterwards that she couldn’t watch the second half at all. Football really does matter, you know.

Ashton and Backwell gradually abandoned their short passing style and did what any self-respecting side should do when trailing late on in a cup tie – they lumped it forward into the box and hoped for the best. Now that’s proper football. But, however hard they tried, the boys from near Bristol could not find the goal to take the tie into extra-time and The Camels claimed their place in the next round.

Both sides were applauded off at the end, a beautiful moment at the end of a beautiful cup clash in a beautiful place on a beautiful day.

The beautiful game? Pele was spot on about that.

POST SCRIPT: Ashton and Backwell United was only formed in 2010 as the result of a merger between Backwell United and the senior and youth sections of Ashton FC. While writing this blog I saw a message on Twitter from Ashton Football Club, which said: “It is with great sadness to hear of the loss of Ashton Boys FC founder Terry Hazel today. Terry founded the club 25 years ago, something 100s of boys and girls still enjoy. Our thoughts are with all his family, friends and the football community in general. RIP Terry Hazel.” I echo those sentiments.

 

 

RIGHTING A WRONG

DATELINE: Blaise Park, St Blazey, Saturday, August 31, 2019

MATCH: St Blazey v Godolphin Atlantic (Newquay)

CUP: The Buildbase FA Vase

ROUND: First Qualifying Round

PICTURES: See http://www.facebook.com/cupfootballblogger/

THE BLOG: Blaise Park, the neat and characterful home of St Blazey FC, is one of my favourite grounds in Cornwall. I have been here many times and have always loved it. It has the feel of being a “proper” football ground, hemmed in by houses, roads and a railway line, but with its own patch of immaculate verdant green bringing a touch of magic to a non-touristy part of the Duchy.

I like the grass bank along the far touchline, the decent-sized seated grandstand facing it, the covered area behind the goal where you can huddle against the rain, providing the wind isn’t blowing it that direction, and the well-appointed clubhouse just the other side of the entrance gate. You can almost imagine hard-bitten comedians on the stage, battling the hecklers in a loud and lairy crowd while the laughter echoes and the drink flows. It’s a cracking place, a proper place.

I went to Bishop Auckland’s old ground way up in County Durham many moons ago and the place had the same sort of feel. Separated by hundreds of miles and distinctly different dialects they might be, but these are proper football places, proper “heart of the community” clubs, proper working-class clubs.

That feeling is made all the more poignant in the week that saw the demise of Bury FC in the Football League but the fans from there and from Bishops and from Blazey would all have the same feeling at heart, the same sense of belonging, the same sense of pride in their place. There are all, were all, “proper” football clubs and I have always had a soft spot for St Blazey because of that.

Yes, I have been to Blaise Park on numerous occasions. I have seen cup finals here, I have seen cup semi-finals here and I have even seen Cornwall Under-18s play here. But one side I had never seen play here was St Blazey. I have never, to my recollection, seen a Blazey home game. This blog, this visit, was and is all about rectifying that wrong.

This was also the opening salvo in this year’s FA Vase, a competition that gives clubs of this size and stature a genuine, if outside, chance of reaching Wembley or at least going on a long enough cup run to start to think that you can just glimpse the Twin Towers, sorry, force of habit, Big Shiny Arch looming in the dreamy distance.

Truro City won the Vase this century. St Austell reached the semi-finals a few years back. Teams in Cornwall at this level can dare to dream. So why not go along and dream with them for a bit? That was my reason for picking this tie to watch.

It also gave me the chance to renew acquaintances with Godolphin Atlantic. They have popped up in this blog several times over the years as they have proved to be real cup fighters, battling their way to finals and semi-finals several times in the past few seasons. OK, they have gone a bit quiet on the knockout football front in the past year or so, and the last time I saw them was at this early stage of the Vase last season, so it was good to have the chance to catch up with them again.

They also have a new name. They are now, officially, Godolphin Atlantic (Newquay) so we all know where they come from now.

So imagine that: a ground I have been to many times in the past but never to see the team who actually play there, and a team I have seen many times in the past but who now have a new name. The ramifications of that, and what “counts” and what doesn’t,  could take up hours on a groundhoppers’ forum. I decided not to get involved in that debate.

Instead, for me, the scene was set for what I hoped would be an entertaining and well-contested cup tie as these two teams started the day in ninth and tenth positions in the new Step Six Kitchen Kit South West Peninsula League Premier West division. Nothing to choose between them.

The weather seemed to be looking after me, as well, as the overnight rain and early morning mizzle had made way for a gloriously sunny, if a tad breezy, afternoon. It was a bit of a jumper on, jumper off sort of day but I turned out to be far too busy for any of those sort of sartorial shenanigans. You see, I had foolishly agreed to keep people updated on Twitter about what was happening in front of me, as well as trying to take notes on my phone for this blog and taking pictures (which you can see on my Facebook page, just follow the link at the top of this page).

How hard can it be? I thought. Hard enough for it all to go a bit Pete Tong at the end as it turns out.

But before I get there, let’s stick to the actual timeline of events. At 3pm, as the game kicked off, it was simply a lovely sunny Saturday afternoon watching the football. My hopes were high and the note-taking was soon in full flight. The home keeper set me on my way with a loud cry of “Away, away” as his defenders cleared a corner. It’s a shout you hear at every game but, surely, the defenders have already thought of this themselves and don’t need reminding of it every time the ball comes into the box? They wouldn’t be much in the way of defenders if they did, would they?

Mind you, there was nothing much any defender could do about the first goal, which came after just 11 minutes. The ball fell to St Blazey’s number three, Jamie Willmott, at least 35 yards from goal. As he took a touch and prepared to shoot, I had time to think: “Not from there, mate, you are way too far out,” and I fully expected the ball to go flying into the gardens behind the goal.

However, I was right in line with the shot and, just after he hit it, there was that moment when you think “Hang on, this is not a bad effort.” Then you see the keeper struggling a bit and then the ball rifles into the top corner. What a strike, what a goal. “I always said he should shoot from there,” you mutter to yourself and hope no one heard your original thoughts.

The home side’s lead only lasted 12 minutes though as they failed to properly clear a corner and a Godolphin strike across the goal and into the bottom corner made it 1-1. (Sorry, but I don’t have the names of the G scorers; I am taking the Blazey ones from Twitter so, if they are wrong, it’s not my fault)!

Just four minutes later, the home side were back in front again, Jordan Hogan heading home at the far post. When I was at junior school many years ago, our football teacher, Mr Thomas, was obsessed with hitting the ball to the far post so he would have loved that goal. Or hated it if it had gone in against us. But, even now, almost 50 years on, I can’t hear anyone shouting “far post” without thinking of Mr Thomas. The sign of a good teacher, I suspect.

I was already finding keeping up with all this goal action on Twitter quite difficult and was busy again just six minutes later when St Blazey went 3-1 ahead. Jack Alexander was the scorer, according to St Blazey social media. The ball was deflected to him and he either cleverly guided it home as it dropped to him or he scuffed it beautifully into the bottom corner. You decide. Either way, the hosts were now 3-1 up and the tie looked dead and buried already.

On 39 minutes, it looked even deader. A long ball forward caused a mix-up between the G keeper and his defence and St Blazey’s Harry Eaton was able to roll home his side’s fourth. The closely contested cup tie I had been expecting was turning in to a bit of a rout.

At half-time, once all the note-taking and Twittering had died down, I had a chance to reflect on the contrasting styles of the teams. The hosts were definitely of the “play it out from the back” modern school of thought which, to an old-timer like me, makes me feel like they are dicing with death every time they do it, while Godolphin were more powerful and direct, more traditional if you like.

There was no doubt that new-style was overpowering old at this stage of the game but I still felt the need to inject a note of caution. That note said: “I like SBFC’s style but will it still work on a muddy night in November?” Sometimes I am a bit of a footballing dinosaur but I remain to be convinced.

Early in the second half, other home-supporting voices started to reflect my caution as the visitors pulled one back in the 54th minute and the whole tie seemed to tighten up. The next time a Blazey defender dallied on the ball there were anxious cries of “Get rid of it,” from some of those around me. I understood their concerns.

However, those concerns were unfounded and, as the game entered the final 10 minutes, the hosts sealed their place in the next round when a tremendous free-kick from the edge of the box by Jordan Walton flew in to make it 5-2.

That was when my own little drama started. While I was tweeting and note-taking about that goal, there was a bit of a kerfuffle and I looked up to see a red card being brandished. I thought it was aimed at a Godolphin player, so started to note that, but then noticed that the player I thought had been sent off was still on. A quick count showed G still had 11 players so I assumed the ref had dished out a second yellow to the wrong player and so had rescinded the red.

While I was making a note of that, there was another kerfuffle and another red. This time, one of the visitors had definitely been sent off.

Then, while I was trying to make a note of that, the home side made a Horlicks of a free-kick and gifted possession to a Godolphin forward who ran through to score. So, 5-3 and quite a lot happening in the space of those 10 minutes. I had given up Tweeting by this time and just did a round-up of all the action once the final whistle had blown. Or, rather, the action as I saw it.

It was only an hour or two after the game that the St Blazey joint-manager Shaun Vincent messaged me to point out that there had, in fact, been TWO red cards, but the first one, the one I thought the ref had called back, was actually for a Blazey player. It turns out that both teams had been reduced to ten in those final, chaotic minutes.

I missed that completely and felt quite bad about it, but that pain was eased when I got a message from another spectator who said he had completely missed the second sending-off. I told you there was a lot going on in those final ten minutes.

But, from now on, I will try to keep my eyes more peeled on the action than on taking notes. And Twittering will be confined to half-time and full-time scores. You have to learn from your mistakes, you know, and not going to Blaise Park to see a St Blazey game was one mistake I am more than happy to have rectified. It was the real Cornish cup cracker I had been hoping for.

FINAL SCORE: St Blazey 5 Godolphin Atlantic (Newquay) 3