Wolviston v Windscale

Venue: Metcalfe Park, off Thames Road, Wolviston TS22 5NE

Kickoff: 14:30 Saturday 23 September 2017

Competition: TWR Bi-Folds Wearside Football League 

Weather: dry, mild, sunny, very light breeze

LOCATION REPORT

SatNav: TS22 5NE

Staff: various (plus clubhouse, next to Cricket Club next door)

Parking: onsite carpark, 100+ spaces

Public transport: bus route to Thames Road (#35 to Stockton, #45 to Middlesbrough) 

Entry: £2

Refreshments: in clubhouse

Toilets: in clubhouse

Stands/Terraces: covered stand for approx 100 people, metal lean-on barrier all round pitchside

Programmes: no

Floodlights: none

MATCH REPORT

Approx crowd: 25 maximum, including couple of kids and one little boy (with his dad, presumably, who is an unused home squad player, and trains with subs at half time) 

Full-time [h/t] score (colours):

3 [0] Wolviston FC (blue)

0 [0] Windscale FC (red/white)

Bookings: 3 Wolviston, 1 Windscale

Sent Off: 0

NORVENMUNKI's COMMENTS

As I drive out of Wolviston along the winding country road towards Thorpe Thewles, it occurs to me that Wolviston FC may not actually be in Wolviston. Or even the same county? When I do arrive here, after being overtaken by a nutcase approaching a blind bend, it's a sharp brake to dip into the car park from the main road. Look for the sign reading: "Sports Ground".

The potholed car park is fringed by a high hedge of conifers, shielding the ground from the road. Through the branches eminate the sounds of last minute training routines and thwack of footballs, the mighty trees shiver from the impact of a stray practice shot. 

At the entrance, the little gate-hut is cute, a shed tucked away under the branches of the trees. Inside, everything is relatively neat, the turf is in lovely condition, and various groundsman's tools like rusting mowers and rollers are scattered haphazardly around the pitchsides: like an agricultural art installation. 

Further around, I find a set of rusty old turnstiles, abandoned, probably defunct now.

In the peace and quiet, you can make out the soft drone of tyres on the A19, just across the fields. Immediately behind the southern goal, there's a high sheet of tatty netting, which I consider is possibly not wide enough to prevent losing the occasional ball into the field adjoining. 

The teams appear, through another gap in the towering hedge. The game commences. 

It's a lively start, with action at both ends and determination on both sides. A few early tackles set the tone for commitment, some are perhaps a bit late thanks to some rusty legs, but the referee seems to be the kind to play advantage and keep the game flowing. An early corner to Wolviston, or Wolvo as some appear to say, which the Windscale keeper flaps at, but it comes to nothing. 

It looks like a key Wolvo tactic is to knock it over the defensive line into the paths of their pacy twin strikers, but several early efforts simply go too long even for their scurrying. A second Wolvo corner, repelled by a powerful Windscale clearance. The home side is definitely on top and showing a wider répertoire of creative moves, whilst the protestations between the visiting players show they are clearly rattled. Still, the occasional Windscale forays forward do hold a potential threat. 

Momentarily, the wind picks up and a duvet of  grey clouds roll over. At some point, I expect that I will retreat to the cover of the stand, but not yet though. 

A moment of levity, although the humour is not shared by all. The home bench are annoyed as the old guy from the away bench keeps wandering onto the pitch without authorisation. The referee hadn't realised, but now tells the Windscale dugout to behave...they respond by making jokes about their own  guy's senility. On the pitch (or not, as the case may be), the ball disappears for a second time over the perimeter fence, managing to squeeze between the trees and the fence panels. 

The home team's pressure is mounting but still they have no reward for all their endeavour. The vocal right-back and the midfielder captain (a Steve Sidwell lookalike) are particularly mobile, both on a mission to cover every blade of grass. Following a rather innocuous challenge, there's a free kick to Windscale and the home coach complains again to the referee; they're getting frustrated and tense. Yet another corner comes to nothing. 

Half-time. 0-0. Wolviston will be the more disappointed. 

As planned, I now go to take a seat in the stand. I notice now how the flip-up seats have clearly been obtained from a large venue, as they are numbered in curious repeating patterns, and have been reassembled here. 

I look around and reckon there may be three groundhoppers here today: myself and two other middle-aged blokes making scribbled comments in notebooks. Or perhaps they are scouts from another team?

Break over. The game restarts, and it's the same pattern as before. Wolviston's early attempts all go to waste. There's a counter-attack from Windscale, with the home defence claiming offside, but the linesman says no. As they momentarily switch off concentration, the visitor striker is clean through, one on one with the home goalie, but inexcusably he totally misses the target! A costly waste. 

A few moments later, a clumsy tackle by the young Wolvo midfielder earns the first yellow of the game. Thus far, the referee has been very lenient. The boy actually might have got away with it at first, but he can't resist talking back to the referee and it's the dissent that possibly gets him booked. 

At last... a goal to Wolviston. A cross from the right is buried by the ever-willing home striker. It's certainly deserved. Buoyed now, Wolvo are still pushing and there's no let-up in their commitment. 

They should really be settled by their goal advantage, but too often they are still moaning. The home bench shout to their already-booked lad that he needs to shut his mouth: one wag even lays a loud wager that he'll get himself sent off. Soon after, the referee takes aside a player from either side as things get niggly at a corner. For all the home dominance, the lead is still fragile and so is their composure. A couple of Windscale attacks draw blanks but expose the vulnerability of the home defence. 

Yet another home corner follows, with a good leap from the striker that is scrambled away by a goalline clearance. The resulting corner is from the other side, but a similar climbing far-post header goes agonisingly wide. 

Meanwhile, the home striker is subbed; a fresh pair of legs up-front to grab the killer second. The new sub soon draws a foul on edge of the Windscale box, and 'Captain Sidwell' steps up to curl a beauty into the top-left-hand corner. A peach! Fifteen to go. 

Now something bizarre. The referee delays the restart whilst he requests that the local officials repair the away net. Seemingly, it has been damaged by the despairing away keeper tumbling into it. Once fixed, the play resumes. 

Wolvo make a second substitution. Moments later, this new sub brings down a Windscale attacker, earning an almost instant yellow card. Luckily for him, although perhaps unsurprisingly, the resulting free kick is wasted by the visitors. Windscale really have been profligate whenever they have had any semblance of a chance. 

Again, Wolviston pile forward. The earlier substitute flies in full-blooded on the advancing keeper, who then petulantly pushes him in anger. The referee is beginning to run short on his deep tank of patience, and books them both. 

Then within a minute, the same Wolvo sub shoots from the edge of the box, the ball takes a massive deflection and spins into the bottom corner; wrongfooting the grumpy keeper as he sits helpless on the turf. 3-0. Game over as a contest.  

A third and final Wolviston substitution follows, as the mouthy young lad is finally taken off. There goes that fella's wager! 

By now, there around five to go and Wolviston push for a fourth: pulling a good move wide, then a pacy breakaway spins agonisingly into touch. In response, Windscale can be commended for continuing to fashion the odd chance for a consolation, but their shots all afternoon have been somewhat woeful, even from straight on they have consistently contrived to miss the target. One final shout for a home penalty, nothing doing. 

Full time. 3-0. 

It turns out that the guy I thought might be a groundhopper is actually from the League, doing an assessment of the referee. The home wag has a bit of banter with the assessor, they clearly know each other by name, but to my mind, the referee had a fine match. Perhaps he's in line for a promotion? 

All in all, this has been a nice visit, to pleasant surroundings, on a mild Autumn day, with plenty of action and a fair result. 

As I pull out of the car park, it looks like Windscale are already loading the minibus as they prepare to go home on the long trip back to Cumbria. Dejected, they obviously want to put this place behind them, in more ways than one. 

GBA rating: yes, no doubt.