With my move to university imminent, it was about time that I started to get used to life without the heartache and dread of watching Bashley every week. So, with a free Saturday on the horizon, it was decided that we'd venture somewhere new, somewhere different, somewhere silly, but where...
The opening paragraph isn't so much of a cliffhanger as I'd like it to be because you've read the title, I hope. If you haven't, hey, how you doing? You likely haven't got a clue what I'm talking about. Having spent a lengthy ten minutes out of my lunch break to peruse the local fixture lists, we settled on one place, the place to be if you will. Rottingdean.
My Saturday afternoon was to be spent in a small village to the East of Brighton, soon to be my new hometown, or so I thought. As it so happened, and as I always do, I continued perusing the league tables further, and that's when I stumbled across a golden opportunity. Ferring. Nestled deep at the base of the third tier of the Southern Combination League, their five league games to date had returned zero points, whilst shipping 82 goals in the process. There was only one place I wanted to be.
The opening paragraph isn't so much of a cliffhanger as I'd like it to be because you've read the title, I hope. If you haven't, hey, how you doing? You likely haven't got a clue what I'm talking about. Having spent a lengthy ten minutes out of my lunch break to peruse the local fixture lists, we settled on one place, the place to be if you will. Rottingdean.
My Saturday afternoon was to be spent in a small village to the East of Brighton, soon to be my new hometown, or so I thought. As it so happened, and as I always do, I continued perusing the league tables further, and that's when I stumbled across a golden opportunity. Ferring. Nestled deep at the base of the third tier of the Southern Combination League, their five league games to date had returned zero points, whilst shipping 82 goals in the process. There was only one place I wanted to be.
A silly day watching silly football could only start in one place, and for whatever reason, that tends to be Portsmouth. So we went to Portsmouth, and we drank some beer, because what else would you want to do in life. On top of that, it was pissing it down outside. Heavily enough in fact that as I supped my Tuborg, and chomped away at my £4 curry, the homeless of Southsea were getting across town via an inflatable dinghy. Obviously. As with any change from the typical mild weather, a spot of rain threw Southern Trains services into a complete meltdown, threatening to throw our plans out the window. That being said, what with such a dry summer, pitches across the south were holding out well and postponements were of short supply, so at least our options remained open. Eventually we managed to board a train in our chosen direction, with a couple of cans of 1664 to enjoy on the journey, having somehow managed to persuade the owner of the local off-license that my 16-25 railcard was a valid form of age identification. It does include my date of of birth, so he bought it, and I bought the beer. We were on our way to Ferring. |
To achieve a Ferring, simply de-train at Goring-by-Sea, before heading right towards town and eventually you'll stumble across Glebelands Recreation Centre, where the village side ply their trade. Away from that, Ferring isn't particularly exciting. It's a typical, quaint, Sussex village, and by that, I mean it's dead. Other than the village hall and the pub, it seems that nothing happens in Ferring whatsoever. With that in mind, and the rain running down my back, I was in no mood to stick around for any extended period of time.
Don't get me wrong here, I took absolutely no pride in going to watch this game because Ferring leak goals faster than your average Wok drains water. If anything, I chose the worst game if my intentions were as detailed above, with the day's opposition, Newtown Villa, plying their trade further down the pyramid in the West Sussex League. No, I've seen Bashley ship double figures enough times, my visit was more about seeing a club before they inevitably fall into nothingness. |
That's in no way suggesting that Ferring cannot one day rise from this turbulent period, I believe I'm right in saying that they have played further up the leagues during their modern history, but they are having an absolute torrid time of things right now. Infact, as I write this, almost a month later, their league record stands as follows;
- Played: 8
- Scored: 5
- Conceded: 102
- Goal difference: -97
- Points: 0
The ground itself is very basic. The only perimeter fencing covers one quarter of the pitch, from the dugouts to the corner flag, then across to the near goalpost. On entry, I didn't see anyone to pay an admission fee and there are certainly no obvious turnstiles, we found that the stand had been closed up and was full of building supplies. We weren't going to find any shelter in there (the substitutes broke in midway through the first half), so found ourselves viewing the opening 45 minutes hidden under the trees behind the far goal, in an attempt to shelter from the wet weather. It worked, sort of.
The first half was something of a drab affair, in no way helped that both sides lacked any quality. Ferring sat deep for long periods and looked to reduce the scoreline as best they could, despite going flying forward on occasion, and Newtown Villa simply could not finish their dinner. The composure in front of goal was appalling, eventually leading 2-0 at the break which was something of a shock in itself.
The first half was something of a drab affair, in no way helped that both sides lacked any quality. Ferring sat deep for long periods and looked to reduce the scoreline as best they could, despite going flying forward on occasion, and Newtown Villa simply could not finish their dinner. The composure in front of goal was appalling, eventually leading 2-0 at the break which was something of a shock in itself.
Truthfully, the second half wasn't any better. The visitors ultimately could have run up double figures, but, having played largely good football, just didn't want to score goals. Their eventual 7-0 victory was something of a formality from kick-off anyway, but it really should have been more. I'm fairly certain the hosts smashed the crossbar at some stage as well, which likely would have sent the 11 in attendance barmy. I'd probably have ended up on top of the stand had it found the back of the net.
It was decided at the end of the game that we best continue sheltering from the rain before making a sprint for the train, and so we naturally ended up in the pub. It's never happened to me before, other than in Cwmbran, South Wales, but every eye turned on us as we wandered through the door and went to purchase a drink from the bar. I honestly believed that we were the first visitors to this little community in years, and that we wouldn't make it out again to tell the tale. It was all a bit surreal.
Still, we escaped with our lives, and found a chippy to quench our raging stomachs. Nothing special here, other than the apparent wait of 27 years for a portion of chips. I honestly could have grown the potatoes myself and made a batch of chips before the woman behind the counter got her act together.
The surreal day continued as we walked through a field just to get back to the train station. It cut all of four seconds from our time, but certainly provided a different backdrop from which we could munch away at our chips that we'd waited so long for. It was still raining as well. Bloody Ferring.
Still, we escaped with our lives, and found a chippy to quench our raging stomachs. Nothing special here, other than the apparent wait of 27 years for a portion of chips. I honestly could have grown the potatoes myself and made a batch of chips before the woman behind the counter got her act together.
The surreal day continued as we walked through a field just to get back to the train station. It cut all of four seconds from our time, but certainly provided a different backdrop from which we could munch away at our chips that we'd waited so long for. It was still raining as well. Bloody Ferring.
In all seriousness, the day was a good laugh overall. I really hope Ferring can pull themselves together before it ends in a brick wall, but I don't know how they're going to go about achieving that. Having said that, results have improved, sort of, having considered 18 goals in three of their opening five league games. Even Bashley never managed that, and we were playing at a higher level!
The club is worth a visit if you get the chance, you never know, you might even see them score a goal!
Cheers
Sheridan
The club is worth a visit if you get the chance, you never know, you might even see them score a goal!
Cheers
Sheridan