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(This article was first published in the Worthing FC Programme in the 2002-2003 season)
In the first of a regular new column our mystery correspondent, The Flying Horseman, takes an off-the-wall look at our upcoming away fixtures.
Leatherhead
Leather head? A head of leather? Did the wind change? Never mind that, this is a great place to kick off our away campaign, tragically marred by it being a midweek game. The misery is compounded for me, as I’ll be leaving on a jet plane just as the game is taking place. Leatherhead have a great ground at Fetcham Grove (just off the one-way system, with parking inside the gates), with a nice bar and a couple of colourful characters amongst their fans (listen out for the mad guy bellowing from the stand).
Traditionally this fixture attracts a few new faces in our travelling support, and as it does just about qualify as a derby game I would urge everyone to get along to this one if they can.
Prediction: A reasonable £2.20 a pint, but not too much drinking as it’s midweek. Flight delayed by 10 minutes due to congestion at Gatwick.
Bromley
Set to be the scene of the first train trip (well, for two of us at least, anyway), this sojourn to the Big Smoke’s outer limits should also attract a few, although the Bank Holiday weekend may warp this as regular fans fall under the magnetic spell of the garden centre. Dodge the M25 traffic and get yourself up there by train – either Hayes or Bromley South will do (just make sure you go to the right Hayes!).
Bromley’s ground is an old one, tucked up a concealed entrance on the edge of farmland (and yes, it is inside the M25). Ten thousand fans once flocked here to watch Nigeria in the 1940s, but now just the loud locals gather behind the covered ends to shout their support. Bromley are one of the favourites for promotion, so this will be a useful indicator of how we’re shaping up. The clubhouse is like a Youth Club, but you don’t need to pretend to be grown up by drinking Top Deck anymore.
Fact: Charlie don’t surf, and neither should you. Now behave. Bromley council once rebelled against Ken Livingstone’s plan to revolutionise London Transport in the 1980s – take no prisoners.
Bognor
The BIG one. The cup tie to end all cup ties. The match of the century. The REAL cup final. The biggest resort in West Sussex takes on a suburb of Littlehampton. 11 men versus 11 men, 1 ball, 1 referee, 2 linesman, and maybe a stray dog running across the pitch late in the game. Or a fox, like at Yeading.
We visit Bognor’s quaint breeze-block, low-rise bowling green on the last day of August for what promises to be a match to remember (but we’ll probably forget, due to the pre-match “build-up”). Traditionally we do better on Bognor’s turf and they usually win at our place, and we’re certainly due a win, Boxing Day 2000 was our last win over our local rivals, when Simon Funnell scored two in a 3-1 stroll at their place.
This is game to bring all your drums, hooters, bells and whistles to, and we can repeat the cacophony of noise that has marked recent games.
The bottom line (in the style of Stuart Hall): The wind whips in from across the pebbled beach, strewn with old ice cream cones, and up the Lane, blowing the ghosts of these magnificent sleeping Sussex giants across the pitch. The winger, resplendent in his stride, beats one, beats two, shimmies and crosses. A delivery of such perfection it hangs in the air, frozen for a second for all to admire it’s shimmering beauty, and drops…
Shine on, you crazy diamonds
The Flying Horseman
7th Feb 2004