Venue: Moor Park, Chester Moor, Chester-Le-Street, County Durham, DH2 3RW
Kickoff: 7.30pm Tuesday 2 October 2018
Competition: Ernest Armstrong League Cup Round 1
Weather: dry, mild evening with very light breeze
Competition: Ernest Armstrong League Cup Round 1
Weather: dry, mild evening with very light breeze
LOCATION REPORT
SatNav: DH2 3RW
Parking: c.20 onsite plus 20+ along service road & grass verges
Public transport: bus routes on A167 (Chester-le-Street - Durham)
Club information: Twitter @CestrianTweet
SatNav: DH2 3RW
Parking: c.20 onsite plus 20+ along service road & grass verges
Public transport: bus routes on A167 (Chester-le-Street - Durham)
Club information: Twitter @CestrianTweet
Entry: £5
Refreshments: adjacent clubhouse portakabin (including licensed bar plus food hatch)
Facilities: toilets under main stand.
Programmes: £1
Refreshments: adjacent clubhouse portakabin (including licensed bar plus food hatch)
Facilities: toilets under main stand.
Programmes: £1
Stands/Terraces: very spacious; main stand (west) with covered seats for c150 max plus dozens on open hardstanding in front; south end covered standing for c100 plus open stepped terraces for 500+; open standing to north/west/east sides with lean-on barriers all round
Floodlights: 8 (4 per flank)
MATCH REPORT
Official crowd: 104
Full-time [h/t] score (colours):
3 [2] Chester-le-Street Town (royal blue/white hoops)
1 [1] Billingham Synthonia (yellow shirts, blue shorts {away kit})
Sent Off: 1 (Billingham)
1 [1] Billingham Synthonia (yellow shirts, blue shorts {away kit})
Sent Off: 1 (Billingham)
NORVENMUNKI's COMMENTS
I choose to parked near (though not at) the Travelodge, assuming that the football club car park would be full. It is a good decision: there are cars parked all the way down the service road too, which is rather dark in the evening. Remember to mind the potholes!
The ground itself is behind a perimeter wall, with the clubhouse outside housed in a ramshackle portakabin. I shuffle through the gate, past the little ticket hut, and am impressed by the capacity of the venue.
There are flurries and mounds of autumn leaves everywhere, lending the place a look of New England in the Fall. There's a very light breeze tonight but it's relatively mild and it's dry and clear.
Fans of the Synners (as Billingham Synthonia call themselves) have unfurled several flags and banners; they are vocal and good-spirited. Coincidentally, I'll be going down to Billingham in my next match.
Tonight is Round 1 of the Ernest Armstrong Memorial League Cup and Chester-le-Street are actually the reigning champions. As it happens, Chester-le-Street are also currently the regular league leaders, so you could say they're bang on form. Will they defend their proud silverware?
Looking around, there's the typical netting high behind the north end goal to protect stray shots from hitting the clubhouse, or perhaps someone's prize allotment marrows?
The teams come out, silently; with my head down I hadn't realised that they were there! The players start to assume position and psyche themselves up, then the captains perform the toss and choose to change ends.
The referee and both assistants are quite short and all the players tower over them. Whistle peeps; game on.
The white lines on the pitch are very faded, so the keeper can barely see the edge of his box: especially in the evening half-light, and more especially with the leaves.
I stand in the whitewashed south bank, with eight neighbours, under the concrete roof and sheltered from the light wind.
One man turns up his radio listening to the local footie phone-in show on Radio Newcastle, which soon reverts to FiveLive and the dulcet tones of Alan Green. Make yourself at home, why don't you?
The capacity seems huge, there's hardstanding everywhere and concrete flagging all round, with the banks of stepped standing easily enough for thousands of spectators. As a legacy of demolished construction, there are random brick walls separating certain areas.
There's patches of lawn too, roughly mowed and covered in leaves, and large trees in the corner, no doubt providing a little extra wind protection on a breezy day.
A row of bungalows backs on to the ground, but is set lower down - so I suppose that makes for limited prospects of free viewing?
With 10 minutes gone, it's good news for the cup holders. A cross from the left is turned in at the near post by the clumsy Synners defender: own goal, 1-0. Nobody speaks.
The man with the radio man lights up and the smell of candyfloss vaping is sickly sweet. A serious photographer snaps away with an extended camera on a pole. I notice there's two random office chairs on the concrete terracing.
I can hear the sound of a train passing by on the track behind the row of trees and some corrugated iron fencing. It's just a gentle local train with a faint whirring sound. As that track is actually the east coast main line, then I assume an intercity will surely be much noisier.
After 20 minutes, it's all-square. A good passing move ends with a tap-in for the visitors: 1-1.
Yet, the away bench's smiles don't last long as, on 26 minutes, a cross from the Chester right flies straight on to the head of their incoming striker, who powers home the header: 2-1. Home advantage restored.
With half an hour gone, a crunching tackle from the Synners right back earns him a deserved yellow. The crunched man takes a while to get fixed up, but he's back on after a few minutes.
It's half-time. Where do you get a coffee?
I go back outside the walls, following the locals. The portakabin clubhouse is a delight: the sports channel is on, the bar is like something you find in a mate's shed.
The two ladies in the food hatch have just run out of pies! Personally, I wasn't that bothered but the groans from others tell a story.
The £1 coffee is instant powder (and it's a bit rubbish to be honest). One lady struggles for change and offers the guy in front of me a £20 note instead of a fiver - luckily for her, he's not paying attention so she gets away with it but that'd have been a very expensive giveaway of much-needed club income.
As I stand back on the terrace, I take an idle look through the programme. Curiously, on the initial info page, it still says 'Northern League Division One' despite the fact that they are actually in Division Two. More curiously still, it doesn't even mention their Memorial Cup triumph last year amongst the roll-of-honours?
The crackling PA kicks in unexpectedly, simply to announce the bonus ball draw winning number. The second half begins.
I wander around to rest by the home side's left flank. Up against the wall by the hedgerow, you can smell the nettles and damp brickwork.
Billingham are looking for an equaliser, to stay in the competition, but it's just not coming. With 55 minutes gone, there's a double substitution for the Chester, as they look to protect their lead.
Around me, children run around the perimeter lawns, in and out of the shadows, playing tig or hide and seek. In the gloom, that's a risky pursuit but nobody seems to be falling over or out.
With 85 minutes on the clock, it's game over. A slick move through the midfield is finished off with a rocket shot into far corner. Good strike: 3-1. Chester make a final sub, to a round of applause from the locals.
Game over.
The form book is maintained and the reigning cup holders progress to the next round, early dreams of a League and Cup 'double' this season maybe?
The dejected Synners fans roll up their flags and head away towards the A1. I make my way back to the main road, past the allotments. I'm trying to avoid falling into a pothole, aided by the headlights of cars crawling out from under the canopies of the mighty hedge.
The ground itself is behind a perimeter wall, with the clubhouse outside housed in a ramshackle portakabin. I shuffle through the gate, past the little ticket hut, and am impressed by the capacity of the venue.
There are flurries and mounds of autumn leaves everywhere, lending the place a look of New England in the Fall. There's a very light breeze tonight but it's relatively mild and it's dry and clear.
Fans of the Synners (as Billingham Synthonia call themselves) have unfurled several flags and banners; they are vocal and good-spirited. Coincidentally, I'll be going down to Billingham in my next match.
Tonight is Round 1 of the Ernest Armstrong Memorial League Cup and Chester-le-Street are actually the reigning champions. As it happens, Chester-le-Street are also currently the regular league leaders, so you could say they're bang on form. Will they defend their proud silverware?
Looking around, there's the typical netting high behind the north end goal to protect stray shots from hitting the clubhouse, or perhaps someone's prize allotment marrows?
The teams come out, silently; with my head down I hadn't realised that they were there! The players start to assume position and psyche themselves up, then the captains perform the toss and choose to change ends.
The referee and both assistants are quite short and all the players tower over them. Whistle peeps; game on.
The white lines on the pitch are very faded, so the keeper can barely see the edge of his box: especially in the evening half-light, and more especially with the leaves.
I stand in the whitewashed south bank, with eight neighbours, under the concrete roof and sheltered from the light wind.
One man turns up his radio listening to the local footie phone-in show on Radio Newcastle, which soon reverts to FiveLive and the dulcet tones of Alan Green. Make yourself at home, why don't you?
The capacity seems huge, there's hardstanding everywhere and concrete flagging all round, with the banks of stepped standing easily enough for thousands of spectators. As a legacy of demolished construction, there are random brick walls separating certain areas.
There's patches of lawn too, roughly mowed and covered in leaves, and large trees in the corner, no doubt providing a little extra wind protection on a breezy day.
A row of bungalows backs on to the ground, but is set lower down - so I suppose that makes for limited prospects of free viewing?
With 10 minutes gone, it's good news for the cup holders. A cross from the left is turned in at the near post by the clumsy Synners defender: own goal, 1-0. Nobody speaks.
The man with the radio man lights up and the smell of candyfloss vaping is sickly sweet. A serious photographer snaps away with an extended camera on a pole. I notice there's two random office chairs on the concrete terracing.
I can hear the sound of a train passing by on the track behind the row of trees and some corrugated iron fencing. It's just a gentle local train with a faint whirring sound. As that track is actually the east coast main line, then I assume an intercity will surely be much noisier.
After 20 minutes, it's all-square. A good passing move ends with a tap-in for the visitors: 1-1.
Yet, the away bench's smiles don't last long as, on 26 minutes, a cross from the Chester right flies straight on to the head of their incoming striker, who powers home the header: 2-1. Home advantage restored.
With half an hour gone, a crunching tackle from the Synners right back earns him a deserved yellow. The crunched man takes a while to get fixed up, but he's back on after a few minutes.
It's half-time. Where do you get a coffee?
I go back outside the walls, following the locals. The portakabin clubhouse is a delight: the sports channel is on, the bar is like something you find in a mate's shed.
The two ladies in the food hatch have just run out of pies! Personally, I wasn't that bothered but the groans from others tell a story.
The £1 coffee is instant powder (and it's a bit rubbish to be honest). One lady struggles for change and offers the guy in front of me a £20 note instead of a fiver - luckily for her, he's not paying attention so she gets away with it but that'd have been a very expensive giveaway of much-needed club income.
As I stand back on the terrace, I take an idle look through the programme. Curiously, on the initial info page, it still says 'Northern League Division One' despite the fact that they are actually in Division Two. More curiously still, it doesn't even mention their Memorial Cup triumph last year amongst the roll-of-honours?
The crackling PA kicks in unexpectedly, simply to announce the bonus ball draw winning number. The second half begins.
I wander around to rest by the home side's left flank. Up against the wall by the hedgerow, you can smell the nettles and damp brickwork.
Billingham are looking for an equaliser, to stay in the competition, but it's just not coming. With 55 minutes gone, there's a double substitution for the Chester, as they look to protect their lead.
Around me, children run around the perimeter lawns, in and out of the shadows, playing tig or hide and seek. In the gloom, that's a risky pursuit but nobody seems to be falling over or out.
With 85 minutes on the clock, it's game over. A slick move through the midfield is finished off with a rocket shot into far corner. Good strike: 3-1. Chester make a final sub, to a round of applause from the locals.
Game over.
The form book is maintained and the reigning cup holders progress to the next round, early dreams of a League and Cup 'double' this season maybe?
The dejected Synners fans roll up their flags and head away towards the A1. I make my way back to the main road, past the allotments. I'm trying to avoid falling into a pothole, aided by the headlights of cars crawling out from under the canopies of the mighty hedge.
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