As will be made obvious by my photographs, I don’t go into Manchester every working day by any means. But when I do, if arriving on platforms 4 or 5 this will invariably be the first thing seen there. Up we all go, to then distribute ourselves through the city by some other means of locomotion.
Some leagues get themselves wrapped up early, like the Northern Counties East League, which has already reached its play-offs. These are fans of Beverley Town, the home team. There are about 10 minutes to go on the clock at this point (though what they don’t yet know is that the ref is going to keep things going for about 20) and the 1-0 lead is going to be retained, don’t worry folks — although if you ask me most of them are looking at their phones at this point.
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.
This afternoon I saw L S Lowry’s famous painting, Going to the Match, which is currently on display in Bury Art Gallery. Then I went to Bury FC’s ground, Gigg Lane, where 2,790 people decided they wanted to Go to the Match. For a ninth-division game, this is pretty good, and I think Lowry might have approved.
The FA Sunday Cup might not seem like much to the rest of the world but about 600 people turned up today at Lower Breck FC’s stadium, in Liverpool, to see one of the quarter-finals. The tension seems to be getting to this guy: he’s about to see the home team (Pineapple) go out 0-2 to the visiting Trooper team from the West Midlands, anyway.
The match is over, they are happy their team won (these are Blackburn Rovers fans) but it’s a cold night — time to go home. Which I also tried to do from this point, but another two hours were to pass before I enjoyed its comforts. That’s another story however.
In Manchester, at some point in most weeks in the autumn there will be an influx of visitors from some European place or other, because either United or City will be at home in the Champions League — or lately, if it’s United, some lesser competition, but they did make the CL this time round. Today it was the fans of FC København (or Copenhagen if you like). They seemed an agreeable enough bunch, but didn’t see a win: United took the game 1-0.
I said yesterday that grim as it was, the forecast was for improvement, and the sun duly shone on me and 309 other people who spent their Tuesday evening at the ground of Trafford FC, a few miles west of Manchester city centre. Perhaps not the biggest club located in their metropolitan borough (I’m sure most people could name the biggest if they thought about it for a minute): but a friendly one. I chose this shot today because of the excellent rim-light, but also the woman laughing in the middle. At least — I think she’s laughing.
A photo of several things. Firstly, the football. Clare insists that the mark on the lower part of the dugout looks just like a sheep. Brighouse manager Vill Powell (with newly-shaven head) makes his second personal appearance on the blog. But most of all it is a photo of a crowd, in a football match, in a proper ground. Finally we can do this kind of thing again. And life is the better for it.
One would like to think the Great Fear of 2020-21 is coming to an end, but I suspect absurdities like this stairway to remain, possibly permanently. An attempt to enforce ‘social distancing’ leads to everyone crowding closer together than they would otherwise have done. But it makes it look like Authority has Done Something, and we will probably never be permitted to go back and say — you know, all that stuff actually had no effect at all, did it? Too late now.
Being 42 