Tow Law Town v West Allotment Celtic

Hosts: Tow Law Town FC

LOCATION REPORT

Venue: Ironworks Road, Tow Law, Co Durham DL13 4EQ

SatNav: DL13 4EQ

Parking: onsite carpark = c.60+; local public carpark, 2 minutes walk; on-street in neighbouring estate
Public transport: buses to A68/Dan's Castle (eg MAX X1 [Tow Law-Crook-Bishop Auckland-Darlington])

Entry: adults £5, concessions £3, kids £1
Programmes: £1

Refreshments: clubhouse (eg £1 hot drinks, £1 for fries)
Licensed bar: onsite clubhouse
Toilets: inside clubhouse + additional gents (next to changing block)
PA system: none

Covered stands/terraces:
(W) main stand = c.170 seated/standing
(N) covered seating = 24 seated (2 x rows of twelve flip-seats)
(N) covered end terrace
Open viewing:
(S) concrete banks behind goal
(E) concrete areas, including stepped tiers
(all sides) hardstanding + lean-on barriers all round

Floodlights: 8 (4 per flank)

MATCH REPORT

Kickoff: 3:00pm Saturday 16 February 2019
Competition: Ebac Northern League Division Two
Weather: windy, chilly, dry, mostly sunny turning cloudy

Team colours:
Tow Law Town = black/white stripes, white shorts
West Allotment Celtic = green/white hoops, white shorts

Official crowd: 50 (league season average = 83)

Final [h/t] score:
3 [2] Tow Law Town
3 [0] West Allotment Celtic

Sent Off: 0

Official League Report

NORVENMUNKI's COMMENTS

Tow Law Town, aka 'The Lawyers', are the embodiment of non-league football and its heritage. Their origins actually stretch back into the nineteenth century, having first joined the Northern League in 1894, and some early stints in other leagues and a slight change of name, then they rejoined in 1920 and thus have been part of the Northern League family for a century since.

In more recent years (if forty years counts as recent?), they had a guy called Chris Waddle on their books but the sold him to Newcastle United for a grand. I wonder how much he pined for blustery Tow Law whilst soaking up the sunshine in Marseille?
Moreover, the Life President is Lady Elsie Robson, widow of tse of the great Sir Bobby, who generously supported the club by raising funds and awareness.

Today, despite the chilly wind, cutting across the hillside location with a mischievous persistence, the winter sun is glowing boldly. Welcomed through the entrance by the ebullient gate-man, we take a moment to soak in the character of this proud old ground and then wander over to the main stand, to the western side of the ground. As it's empty, we can choose our preferred spec, lower down amongst the 120+ black-and-white flip-up seats.

Across the pitch, there is open standing on a stepped concrete area, elevated naturally by the roll of the hillside. A few people stand there, to the east, exposed to the breeze but contented by the warm sunshine upon their faces, shades on; for us, instead, the breezeless cocoon of the long cool shade. Soon, around and after kick-off, we are surrounded by the heat of others, buffering us from the chill.



Towering high above the opposite flank is a solitary wind-turbine, the body of which spins continuously on its platform, although its blades, exposed to the gusty valley, are barely turning. At its foot, a row of tall trees are waving constantly with a natural bendyness.



Beneath these, the onsite carpark is occupied by ISO containers but is not full of vehicles. Had I have realised this, I might have parked there instead of just up the hill into town. Later, a few observers drive in and watch the match from there, presumably for free.

At the northern end, there's a pitch-wide covered terrace, with a small scattering of spectators. For those who prefer to sit, there's actually two random rows of flip seats relocated from the main stand.
In the far corner, a cell-tower stands incongruously against the backdrop of horses in a bordering field, chomping hay obliviously.



A customary drape of tall netting surrounds much of the site perimeter, to stop loose balls disappearing into adjoining gardens and allotments; although some patches are threadbare and offer little resistence to a hefty shot.



The long shadows of our stand gradually yawn further across the pitch, as the players emerge to a smattering of applause. The pitch itself has a noticeable crossways slope, corner-to-corner from north-east to south-west.



The game commences and soon adopts a rather niggly atmosphere, characterised by snappy tackles and the drone of constant mouthing-off; punctuated occasionally with bouts of handbags and swagger. Indeed, play is temporarily halted by a spat between fans and subs, trading barbs. Apparently, some local Tow Law fans (or perhaps non-fans?) once gained the nickname of 'the Misfits' thanks to an unhelpful reputation for petty hooliganism.

[Comment: I see enough footie, at this level and others, to witness testosterone-fulled moments aplenty (and I'm not embarrassed to confess to the occasional exclamation myself at times!), but sometimes it's a bit pathetic reality and people, on and off the pitch, need to get a grip of their emotions, especially when there's young'uns present. Passion is good, but tempered with a bit of self-awareness.
Anyway, this a general societal comment rather than any reflection on these two clubs, so let's get back to the day itself!]



Tow Law take the lead; a powerful header from an uphill corner: 1-0.

Half-time looms and we trot off for some refreshment. The food kiosk is buzzing as they prep for the interval rush, and the chirpy staff are lovely. The coffees and hot chocolates are tall, strong and warming; the freshly-made fries are piping hot. Top marks.

A late goal at the end of the first half doubles the home side's lead; the visitors' defence is ragged and the shot is slotted-in by an attacking midfielder: 2-0 at the break.

The moon is out, its silvery orb fringed with a haze of light cloud. Our attention is dawn to a huge flock of birds, cawing and swooping; their slightly sinister dance has numerous onlookers craning necks and commenting.



The game restarts. Within twenty seconds or so, it's 2-1. Tow Law caught sluggish after their break and all-of-a-sudden West Allotment are back in the game.
Or are they? A minute or so later, Tow Law restore their two-goal cushion. A defence-splitting pass leads to a deep cross, and the subsequent strong shot creeps through the keeper's grappling and sneaks across the line. The linesman's eagle-eyes every bit as keen as VAR: 3-1.
Soon after, the momentum swings back again. A penalty to the visitors is thumped home: 3-2.

The crowd, and the two benches, cannot settle. The atmosphere is tense. Under the roof, the encouragements and applause echo back and the scene is set for late drama.
Late on, the home side fashion a great chance to kill the game off but their striker shoots straight at the away keeper. From the resultant goal-kick, the ball bounds down the other end and a defensive lapse allows West Allotment to equalise. Truly end-to-end stuff.
That's it. Game over: 3-3. Honours even.

As the evening draws in, we head off up the hill into town and homeward. This historic venue, nestled into the sloping landscape, settles back to reflect upon another afternoon of drama; let's hope the steely commitment of these dedicated Lawyers will keep the Ironworks firing for generations to come. A traditional ground to cherish: I rest my case.

MORE INFORMATION

Club Twitter: @TowLawTown