Waking up Saturday morning to travel into Brighton and decide my future in higher education, and then to go onto a football match that afternoon seemed somewhat irrelevant following the tragic events in Paris on Friday night. The attacks put everything into perspective and reminds us that we need to wake up and take every day as it comes, because ultimately, you never know what's around the corner.
I won't use this blog to launch into a political discussion and voice my opinions on the subject because this isn't the platform with which I'd be happy doing so, and anyway, you aren't here to read about political and religious arguments looking at both sides of the coin. I'm hoping, for one reason or another, you want to read about my visit to Westleigh Park, home of Havant and Waterlooville Football Club. I don't know why you'd want to, but humour me nonetheless, I like writing things on occasion.
As aforementioned, the day started with me pondering university in Brighton, with the ultimate goal of mooching on over to East Preston during the afternoon for their Southern Combination tie vs St Francis Rangers. Leaving the uni earlier than expected, and with the rain crashing to the floor harder than my future, I opted against hiding in Brighton and jumped on the first train home with the intention of finding a game on the way home.
A peruse of the fixture lists threw up Havant vs Maidenhead United, and it was decided there and then that I would be ticking off ground number 72 that afternoon. The pretty girl opposite me on the train even got a knowing nod as I looked up from my phone, I could see the jealousy forming in her eyes.
I won't use this blog to launch into a political discussion and voice my opinions on the subject because this isn't the platform with which I'd be happy doing so, and anyway, you aren't here to read about political and religious arguments looking at both sides of the coin. I'm hoping, for one reason or another, you want to read about my visit to Westleigh Park, home of Havant and Waterlooville Football Club. I don't know why you'd want to, but humour me nonetheless, I like writing things on occasion.
As aforementioned, the day started with me pondering university in Brighton, with the ultimate goal of mooching on over to East Preston during the afternoon for their Southern Combination tie vs St Francis Rangers. Leaving the uni earlier than expected, and with the rain crashing to the floor harder than my future, I opted against hiding in Brighton and jumped on the first train home with the intention of finding a game on the way home.
A peruse of the fixture lists threw up Havant vs Maidenhead United, and it was decided there and then that I would be ticking off ground number 72 that afternoon. The pretty girl opposite me on the train even got a knowing nod as I looked up from my phone, I could see the jealousy forming in her eyes.
I'm not usually one for slating places, but it was obvious from the moment I stepped off the train, Havant is a bit of a dump. You know that feeling you get at the pit of your stomach when you realise you really don't like a place? No? Well, you're clearly not as judgmental as me but I got that feeling about Havant. Admittedly, the weather didn't help matters. Saturday was a grim day and I was having second thoughts about staying to watch the football or jumping on the next train home and just climbing back into bed. In the end, with a McDonald's and pint of Heineken demolished, I flicked open maps and headed out into the apocalyptic weather looking for my 68th game of this campaign. A choice that paid off before I even reached the ground, as this sign outside one of the pubs in the town made my day. Fair play whoever wrote that one. |
With time getting on and me being on a self-inflicted alcohol ban (Saturday was not a good day for this), I opted to skip the pub next to the ground and seek shelter in the terraces out of the wind and the rain. £9 entry seemed about average for the level, and a quick stop to the club shop as I walked in allowed me to expand the number of pin badges that are just sitting on my desk.
I liked the ground. It certainly made up for the dive of a town in which it's located. With four concrete terraces surrounding each touchline, as well as the seated stand opposite the dugouts, I was pleasantly surprised. I managed to stay out of the rain for a full 90 minutes (mostly), and enjoy a game on a pitch that held up reasonably well, despite patches in the centre of the park holding more water than your average garden pond and meaning the ball wasn't running as true as it possibly would have done otherwise. That being said, the wind was wreaking havoc and any ball played in the air (approximately 60% of the football) was holding up and at times heading back the way it came before beginning its descent.
I did a mini tour of the ground during half-time and it's pretty much the same no matter where you're stood. Concrete terrace under some cover, which, as aforementioned, was quite beneficial considering the rain that was coming down and sweeping across the pitch. The poor ball boy was sent out ten minutes before everybody else and sat in between the dugouts, suddenly becoming the only person in the ground not hiding under something. His dedication to the cause was unrivaled.
I did a mini tour of the ground during half-time and it's pretty much the same no matter where you're stood. Concrete terrace under some cover, which, as aforementioned, was quite beneficial considering the rain that was coming down and sweeping across the pitch. The poor ball boy was sent out ten minutes before everybody else and sat in between the dugouts, suddenly becoming the only person in the ground not hiding under something. His dedication to the cause was unrivaled.
The match itself was a cagey affair, with the away side taking an early lead, before being pegged back and eventually going on to lose 3-1. Havant's second was a bit of a wonder goal, as substitute Nic Ciardini stepped up to fire a perfect free-kick into the top left hand corner from about 25 yards out. I had the perfect angle to see it too as I was stood right behind it, and watched the ball sail into the top corner. I even allowed myself a little fist pump it was that good.
Truthfully, I won't be rushing back any time soon as that would mean spending more time in Havant. As much as I liked the ground, the town isn't so much fun. Thankfully, the two sides provided an enjoyable game despite the efforts of the Havant fans to ruin my afternoon. Their sporadic chants of 'We are the Hawks' quickly entered my list of the worst songs ever heard at a football match. Thankfully, one of the Maidenhead lads bought a smile to my face with a timely 'Oh, fuck off' as the Havant faithful piped up again.