Two minutes to go before kick-off and someone, somewhere lets off a flare to add to the atmosphere. The two guys in the centre look pretty tense about it all. And considering their team are about to concede three soft goals in the first 12 minutes of the game that is to come, they were justified — not that they knew that at this point. Final score, Oldham Athletic 4, Halifax Town 0. This lot all go home now and wait for next season.
Half an hour into the Yorkshire Amateur League Cup Final in Bradford (well, how do you spend pleasant, sunny Friday evenings towards the end of a season?) and Berry Brow’s no. 11, Kyle Walton, dinks the ball over the Ryburn Utd keeper for a 1-0 lead. Having spotted my camera, this was his chosen means of celebration. And it was kind of amusing, so I’ll let him off the need to wipe the lens clean afterwards. They went on to win 2-0. (Clare insisted I use this picture today, and who am I to argue.)
Sometimes there is no better place to spend a glorious evening than somewhere like Marsden FC. Not quite perfection — there were too many insects buzzing around for that — but not bad, not bad at all.
The Manchester marathon took place in quite warm conditions and Alex definitely needed this assistance as he passed the 26-mile marker, thus, 385 yards to go. By the time she reached this point — over four hours later — Clare was also very much in need of some water, but she made it nevertheless, thus completing her second marathon after Edinburgh in May last year. That’s two more than I have ever done, or ever will do: even at walking pace (like, up a mountain or something) I see no need to ever propel myself 26.2 miles in one day. Well done to all who do so.
When buying tickets for football grounds with which one is not wholly acquainted, it might help if warnings were issued to the casual fan: “You are entering an area occupied entirely by people who want to stand up throughout the game and wave flags.” I mean, I admire their enthusiasm and respect their support — but after a few minutes, I moved, somewhere right up the top.
This is Bradford City’s ground; their game against Notts County attracted over 20,000 people to see a fourth-tier game — so someone, somewhere is doing something right…
While there is football here — I saw it on Sunday afternoon — skittles appears to be the principal sporting activity of those who live on Ascension Island, drawing people to the Saints Bar in Georgetown on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday nights. Tonight, The Painkillers team, made up of staff from the hospital, brought their mascot along for support. It didn’t do them any good though, they were well beaten by The Power (they run the power station — you dig?).
The wife was doing her latest excessively long bout of exercise, as she trains up for her second marathon in April. 22 miles today I believe. 9 miles in, our paths crossed briefly, then, off she went eastwards.
The theme continues into Sunday morning, but this time with more action. Also with less regard for clashes of kit or the integrity of the pitch boundaries. The result was the same though: 1-0, this time to the blacks, if you can tell the difference. But it mattered to them.
A double-bill to fill out the weekend, because I saw a lot of football, and not much else. This one is taken about half an hour before kick-off at the second match of the weekend, at Rhyl FC, where the Wales Under-19 team were playing Portugal in front of quite a big crowd, at least for the size of the ground. (A seagull crashes the shot for the second day in a row.) They were to see defeat, however: Portugal won 1-0.
I don’t know whether St Bernadette’s — the church in the background — was busy on this Sunday morning, possibly it was. Hough End Playing Fields across the road certainly was, although this picture doesn’t capture the fact that at least half-a-dozen sports matches of various kinds were taking place around me at this point. I like the combination of the bright orange shirt and the slight dullness and tattiness of the background.
Being 42 