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Dead End Street
Aug. 28th, 2023 06:00 pmTo London yesterday for Seaward’s League Cup tie at London Bees. I’d visited the impressive Hive stadium before, but this game was being played on the brand new adjacent 5G pitch. So a new ground tick, and the picture on Futbology for the 5G pitch showed a stand. And I remembered the cafe-bar at the complex having excellent food, so a pleasant day seemed in prospect.
I arrived in the cafe-bar to see three Seaward players there. I said hello and wished them good luck. One of them reflected on how they were three promotions away from the WSL. I observed that before that there might be a WSL scout at one of their games; that excited her a little.
When they’d gone to the changing room I asked the cafe lady to show me the menu…and she said the chef wasn’t working that day so there were only a few bar snacks. I went for a sausage roll, quite tasty, and a decaf mocha.
Went to head for the pitch with a quarter of an hour to kick-off. Then came my next shock : there was nowhere to sit. Just a shingle standing area running along one side of the pitch. What’s more, the lady steward was just waving people in without looking at tickets. I might as well not have bothered buying an advance ticket online for £5.
Said hello to Dave, Keith and Gary and got the team lineup from Dave. Several first team regulars were either out of the side or on the bench; we speculated that perhaps the coaches wanted to concentrate on the league, or would prefer to play in the Plate as we’d have a better chance of reaching the final.
Early in the game I wandered along the standing strip hoping to spot the London Bees Ultra, who I’d met before at an England game. He was standing with Kevin, who I’d met in Spain last November, and a couple of other groundhoppers. We all talked for the rest of the afternoon about Seaward, Bees, and assorted groundhopping exploits. One of the others was a hardcore hopper, and, assuming me to be of that brotherhood, asked “what game are you going to tomorrow?” I explained that my current finances don’t allow for hopping on that scale. I was able, with the help of Futbology, to find the dedicated hoppers an evening game for today; with several games having 11am kick-offs that allowed them to do a coveted ‘treble’.
I told the others how I’d paid a fiver for an advance ticket and now people were being let in free; one of the others said he’d bought one, but another said “They sold tickets online to make money from mugs”. I mentioned the sparseness of the pitch and lack of hot food at the bar. The Ultra said the club owner had stopped bothering with the women’s team when they got relegated to the third tier. He said the picture of the stand on Futbology was “that one”, pointing at a stand visible in the distance across the main footpath. The stand overlooked a grass pitch, the infamous “Pitch A”, which the Ultra said had been the women’s home two seasons ago and had been a nightmare.
Most of the guys were going to make at least one of the Lionesses’ Nations League matches. Kev was fortunate enough that he’d be in Belgium anyway the night we play there. I managed to persuade one of them to take in the Scotland away game at Hampden (which he’d never ticked) in December.
The game? London Bees raced into a 2-0 lead in the first half.
At half time I pondered moseying over to the bar in search of crisps or chocolate but the Ultra said the queue would be a mile long (there were people using other parts of the multisport complex). So I resigned myself to staying my appetite until Waterloo.
Ten minutes into the second half a Bees forward made a jinky solo run and slotted home to kill the tie. Seaward got a consolation from an own goal just after but that was it.
I said my goodbyes to the Ultra and the hopper crew, then Dave, Keith and Gary said goodbye and headed for the exit. I hung back to see the girls and the coaches. Several of them thanked me for coming. On our way along the asphalt between the cage and the footpath, several of us talked to our injured player Kate who was in a motorised wheelchair. Jo observed how that spartan pitch was in no way up to the requirements for our level, and I reminded her that, worse, Bees are a level above us. Jo and I joked “Void game! Replay at Oakside.”
Ambled down the path. Weary tube ride back. Hit Mi Casa at Waterloo for a burrito.
Please give us an away game somewhere pleasant in the Plate. Southampton Sirens would do nicely.
I arrived in the cafe-bar to see three Seaward players there. I said hello and wished them good luck. One of them reflected on how they were three promotions away from the WSL. I observed that before that there might be a WSL scout at one of their games; that excited her a little.
When they’d gone to the changing room I asked the cafe lady to show me the menu…and she said the chef wasn’t working that day so there were only a few bar snacks. I went for a sausage roll, quite tasty, and a decaf mocha.
Went to head for the pitch with a quarter of an hour to kick-off. Then came my next shock : there was nowhere to sit. Just a shingle standing area running along one side of the pitch. What’s more, the lady steward was just waving people in without looking at tickets. I might as well not have bothered buying an advance ticket online for £5.
Said hello to Dave, Keith and Gary and got the team lineup from Dave. Several first team regulars were either out of the side or on the bench; we speculated that perhaps the coaches wanted to concentrate on the league, or would prefer to play in the Plate as we’d have a better chance of reaching the final.
Early in the game I wandered along the standing strip hoping to spot the London Bees Ultra, who I’d met before at an England game. He was standing with Kevin, who I’d met in Spain last November, and a couple of other groundhoppers. We all talked for the rest of the afternoon about Seaward, Bees, and assorted groundhopping exploits. One of the others was a hardcore hopper, and, assuming me to be of that brotherhood, asked “what game are you going to tomorrow?” I explained that my current finances don’t allow for hopping on that scale. I was able, with the help of Futbology, to find the dedicated hoppers an evening game for today; with several games having 11am kick-offs that allowed them to do a coveted ‘treble’.
I told the others how I’d paid a fiver for an advance ticket and now people were being let in free; one of the others said he’d bought one, but another said “They sold tickets online to make money from mugs”. I mentioned the sparseness of the pitch and lack of hot food at the bar. The Ultra said the club owner had stopped bothering with the women’s team when they got relegated to the third tier. He said the picture of the stand on Futbology was “that one”, pointing at a stand visible in the distance across the main footpath. The stand overlooked a grass pitch, the infamous “Pitch A”, which the Ultra said had been the women’s home two seasons ago and had been a nightmare.
Most of the guys were going to make at least one of the Lionesses’ Nations League matches. Kev was fortunate enough that he’d be in Belgium anyway the night we play there. I managed to persuade one of them to take in the Scotland away game at Hampden (which he’d never ticked) in December.
The game? London Bees raced into a 2-0 lead in the first half.
At half time I pondered moseying over to the bar in search of crisps or chocolate but the Ultra said the queue would be a mile long (there were people using other parts of the multisport complex). So I resigned myself to staying my appetite until Waterloo.
Ten minutes into the second half a Bees forward made a jinky solo run and slotted home to kill the tie. Seaward got a consolation from an own goal just after but that was it.
I said my goodbyes to the Ultra and the hopper crew, then Dave, Keith and Gary said goodbye and headed for the exit. I hung back to see the girls and the coaches. Several of them thanked me for coming. On our way along the asphalt between the cage and the footpath, several of us talked to our injured player Kate who was in a motorised wheelchair. Jo observed how that spartan pitch was in no way up to the requirements for our level, and I reminded her that, worse, Bees are a level above us. Jo and I joked “Void game! Replay at Oakside.”
Ambled down the path. Weary tube ride back. Hit Mi Casa at Waterloo for a burrito.
Please give us an away game somewhere pleasant in the Plate. Southampton Sirens would do nicely.
