Grass Roots

I've never been to watch an England international. Not in real life. I've seen plenty of matches from one tournament or another projected into my living room and dutifully roared the three lions onwards, heck I even partook in the conga down Shooters Hill when we beat the Germans 5-1, but I've never had the urge to sit amongst hundreds of school children for a slow tempo friendly at Wembley. There are many who go and support their country as often as possible, both home and abroad (which looks far more appealing), and I take my hat off to them, but it just doesn't float my boat.

So an international break just weeks into the new season must surely frustrate the likes of myself, resigned into a Saturday afternoon of decorating/shopping/gardening/talking to the wife - delete as appropriate. Except I have non league football, and this weekend everyone was invited. Not that they aren't normally you understand, but the machine that is Non League Day gathers more momentum with each passing season and this time around had more media coverage than ever, reaching an audience of both Premier League and Championship regulars plus the armchair Sky sports and Match of the Day aficionados.

My local club, Horley Town, were always going to get my entrance fee on the day, they didn't need the magic of hamster racing or such gimmicks to be assured of that, but with my wife at a wedding in Israel for the week I saw no reason against having a little warm up and making a non league week out of it. So on Tuesday I pulled the scooter out of the hedge and rode up to Tolworth, home of one of non leagues more illustrious names, Corinthian Casuals.

It was, if truth be told, a last minute decision. Horsham were at home to Carshalton Athletic on the same evening and I was set to head south but two reasons stopped me. Firstly, Horsham YMCA were at home the following night so I could visit the ground then, secondly, having such a soft spot for Sutton United I couldn't bring myself to go and watch their bitter rivals from Carshalton. It would be like catching a Palace game just because you could. I'd rather the decorating or whatever option from earlier. So I plumped for the Casuals and the visit of Guernsey for a Ryman South league fixture. And what a great decision it turned out to be.

Corinthian Casuals, the club that every side named Corinthians around the world pay homage too, wore their pink and chocolate halved shirts whilst Guernsey wore green. It wouldn't just be the language that was colourful that night. By complete coincidence I bumped into a familiar face, Ashley of putajumperon fame who I didn't realise lives just over the road from the ground. We watched the visitors take an early lead, cheered by a very noisy group of three from the mainland branch of the supporters club, which despite a clear penalty shout from the Casuals, they managed to hold onto until half time. The second half was something to behold. The home side started to play some wonderful football scoring three goals in the process.It could have been more as they attacked an end which had as many flags as it did supporters. The Ryman South is only one step up from Horley but it's a big step, especially in strength and fitness. This would become more apparent the following night.

Horsham YMCA, unlike their tenants Horsham, play in the first division of the Sussex County League and had done well to hold Redhill, another Ryman South team to a draw in their FA Cup preliminary round visit last Saturday. The clubhouse in Horsham has some great local bottled beers from the Hepworth brewery but I was disappointed to be given a plastic glass to go with it. Fortunately being on the scooter I could only have the one.

Both sides started brightly and both could have taken an early lead, yet a late goal in either half gained Redhill entry into the first qualifying round. A result made more convincing considering the visitors played nigh on the whole second half with only ten men. Horsham YMCA were an honest hard working club but Redhill had a semblance a little derisive both on and off the pitch which certainly didn't warm them to me.

As good as these games were as a spectacle, there's nothing like watching football you have a real interest in. I supported the home sides at both but the outcome was for me immaterial, the joy purely coming from partaking. Non League Day itself and back to business, Horley Town in the FA Vase.

The visitors were Sevenoaks Town and I had a nice chat with the father of one of their players in the bar before kick off. I discovered his lad is Ben Judge, formally of Crawley Town and AFC Wimbledon, who is still enjoying his football at the age of 37. I didn't know anything about Sevenoaks other than the usual google search, they had certainly started their season brightly but offered little in a even first half which they lead only due to overly accommodating defending.

A change of formation and personnel transformed Horley after the break stringing passes together, looking confident, controlled and unhurried on the ball. Two goals for Ashley Nadeson either side of a great strike from Ben Herdman saw a comeback equal in every respect to Corinthian Casuals earlier in the week. Herdman was my man of the match, a workhorse in the middle of the park who helped out wherever necessary including a goal line clearance. strong performances also from left back Jack Poplett and substitute Adam Pullin on the right flank taunted Sevenoaks. A late goalkeeping howler gifted them a late consolation but the 3-2 final scoreline somewhat flattered the visitors.

Not only do the club progress into the next round where they travel to Cray Valley Paper Mills in Eltham, but they also receive pound notes for their achievement. I could have misheard but I believe about six hundred of them. Some of this went behind the bar for the players to enjoy, and a nice touch came when I met the club chairman for the first time and he gave me a pint from the tab. We then watched as the local rugby team arrived and one of their folk drank a pint of Guinness in around ten seconds whilst stood on his head! I've always said those egg chasers were a little special.

Some clubs prospered greatly from Non League Day, Dulwich Hamlet for example getting a crowd the size of which is more akin to Conference levels, whilst for many others it was a regular Saturday. I suppose you only get out of it what you're prepared to put in, but more importantly did the message get across? Unfortunately stopping in a local pub on the walk home I spoke to a chap bemoaning the fact there was no Match of the Day that night. Of course I gave the Non League Day speech, but it fell on deaf ears. Apparently he once played for my local side, managed another then ranted about ticket prices for local football! Did he think his Sky subscription gained him free entry? I don't think it matters how much coverage Non League Day achieves, some people will always believe football started in 1992 with the foundation of the Premier League.

There really is nowt as queer as folk!

Lucky Charm

It's fair to say I haven't brought Charlton much luck this season. Nobody has. There is really quite something gratifying about wearing a crisp new shirt or some other garment of clothing to a game, winning and crowning it your new lucky shirt or pants or socks or whatever it may be. Of course lose, and you'll never venture near the ground wearing it again. Thankfully we're near the season's completion as my wardrobe budget for the year was blown months ago. As you'll discover later, it isn't just Charlton that suffer from my attendance.

We'd booked a week in the Lake District months ago when we carefully balanced the odds of missing the 'in season' prices, yet avoided missing any potential vital games. Thankfully Charlton capitulated against Sheffield United in the cup as I was faced for a long time with the very real possibility of missing a cup semi final at Wembley, best laid plans and all that. Originally it was just the trip to Brighton I'd have to forfeit, although a rearranged Barnsley game later fell into the equation followed quickly by the Bolton fixture which was moved twenty four hours forward to Good Friday, the day of our drive back south. Never mind, three fixtures to excel and pick up points; if there's a great game to be had Charlton are always cruel enough to save it until my eyes are elsewhere. As it transpired I missed two dismal defeats and finally a slightly better performance resulting in a no score draw. You missed a chance there Charlton, missed a chance.

If you thought a break from football was my sole reason for escaping to the country (and goodness knows it's reason enough), you'd be wrong. Upon arriving in the land of Peter Rabbit and Jemima Puddle-Duck my first inclination was to Google the local football. Kendal Town seemed closest, a club nestling mid table in the Evo-Stik Division One North, NOT the Northern League as I was quickly informed was something completely different. Not only were 'the Mintcakes' (do they really use that nickname) close, but they were at home the following day against Harrogate Railway Athletic, possibly the most northern sounding team in existence. I just had to go.

The Evo-Stik league is a feeder league to the Conference North with the Premier Division level seven of the pyramid and Division One North and South level eight. I was told I could expect a crowd of about a hundred and fifty, in not only a ground I'd never visited before but a league I'd never witnessed too. Never had a holiday had such a promising start.

The ground was everything you'd expect from a distant northern outpost. A wooden grandstand, rickety roofs of corrugated iron above sections of terracing, a scoreboard on a hill yet not a man with a dog in sight. Perhaps I was a little too north for that? The hospitality of the club was second to none and a credit to not only the league or to football in general but a continuation of the warm welcome I received from the whole community. I thought my strong South London accent and charm would isolate me immediately but I was greeted with a smile everywhere I went, although in typing that I realise that I bought a large quantity of beer everywhere I went too. I certainly never heard the words 'flash cockney git' if they were ever thought...

The club bar served a lovely pint and at reduced prices too, the cheap beer an aid to entice supporters to drink feverishly as half the proceeds over the bar go to the players. Everyone you saw working or wearing club overcoats (the northern version of the club blazer) was a volunteer and happy to tell me all about the community club. The ground is owned I believe by Clarks shoes who ten years ago bought out the K shoes company that was not only owner of the ground but also one of the major employers in the town and survives on the whole, like many other small clubs, from the revenue generated by the social events held in the clubroom. I got the impression the landlords were refreshingly rather proud of the association with the community football team and it's history, and I instantly felt at home.

The game itself was of a slightly better quality than I expected, Kendal kicking uphill for the first half and going into the break 2-0 after their number ten had finished with panache on both occasions. Sitting in the grandstand we could hear the benches with some clarity, the Kendal management team disputing every single decision the officials made with language you never heard on Last of the Summer Wine. The second half saw a penalty a piece as the home side ran out eventual 3-1 winners. As a seemingly meaningless mid table affair it was full of intensity and dedication, nobody ever dreaming of pulling out of a tackle.

I fell for it, I almost wished I lived closer so I could watch their run in and their big local derby on Bank Holiday Monday against Lancaster City. Romanticism in football certainly isn't dead but I've my own love affiliations back at home and as we all know, holiday romances have to remain just that, short lived flings. But you never forget them.

So back home for a day and my attentions turned to my local club Horley Town and their ongoing courting with relegation. A home match with third placed Westfield from Woking may not have been the easiest evaluation of Combined Counties Premier Division (level 9) survival but they certainly gave it a go. And this with me watching from the touchline. On arrival at The New Defence, home of Horley Town, joint caretaker manager Anthony Jupp came over and said words to the effect of "not you again, we never win when you're about". He was of course jesting but if he knew about 'the Charlton effect' he'd demand I bought a new wardrobe for non league alone rather than curse them with Charlton off casts!

Horley battled well against an under strength and young Westfield side but their inexperience and nerves unfortunately got the better of them. Unlucky to concede just before the break, they clawed their way back into the match to gain a deserved equalizer after wonderful skills from the always impressive Ashley Nadesan as he beat a couple of defenders to send in the cross for the goal. But again the similarity to Charlton raised it's head, for the visitors went down the other end nigh on straight from the restart to snatch all the points. It was as gut-wrenching at this level as it is at any other, it's a cruel game for sure when you're struggling.

Things will only get tougher for Horley as they venture to South Park for a Bank Holiday derby tomorrow morning. South Park have already been crowned champions and are looking forward to a season of Ryman (Isthmian) football in August. Sorry Juppy, I plan to go. In fact with an early kick off I can watch Horley in the morning then ride the scooter up the A217 to Sutton United for their last Conference South home league fixture against Concord Rangers in the afternoon. A double header to round off my non league season sounds like a perfect and adulterous orgy of football.

I often find myself drifting, disillusioned with so many aspects of modern football . Normally I catch myself and pull myself back in line but recently it seems harder. I'm married to Charlton, we swore oaths when I was a child at a time in every lads life when he knows there is no turning back and it's the other kids in school that will have to settle for a life of supporting the cup winners. In sickness and in health it's Charlton I'm stuck with but of late my eye roams more than ever. And never with the stunning head turner of a club that has won the heart (wallet) of every replica shirt wearing armchair fan but the plainest of the plain, the club ignored by the masses yet more appreciative of my attention. It is just a harmless 'bit on the side' I tell myself, something to keep me amused while my Charlton are working miles away from home and not giving me a second thought.

I know I'll never leave them, the day out on the beer with your mates, the sound of the Covered End in full voice, It's all too much to throw away, and besides, I don't want to become the badly dressed slightly eccentric old man weighed down by a couple of bulging carrier bags that every non league ground seems to attract. But I'm a bloke and it's only natural for me to get a flustered when the club next door offers me a quick hour and a half behind the bike sheds isn't it?

Non League Break

Or as the press would rather call it, an international break. Now I want England to succeed on the world stage as much as the next man, and I got behind the team shouting at the television as loudly as that same 'next' fellow on Friday night, but the highlight of the weekend for me was another opportunity to catch some level nine action at my local side, Horley Town.

Having lived and worked in the town for a number of years now, the well publicised non league day last month was my first and overdue visit to their New Defence ground. Impressed, I followed them the following Saturday to Whyteleafe where I saw them crash out of the FA Cup. Charlton and Sutton have my heart, but Horley Town, and this level of football in particular, have me hooked.

Yesterday saw another window of opportunity arise, a Combined Counties league match against Windsor. The visitors are a relatively new club, formed by the fans only two years ago after Windsor & Eton's demise. The original club incidentally, were a team I watched a couple of times in the late eighties during one of their more successful spells in the Isthmian League.

Following Charlton I've become used to bemoaning players, almost watching for their mistakes, the misplaced pass, the poorly timed challenge, it's watching football of a certain standard and being frustrated when my loyalty isn't rewarded with excellence. Here I'm not expecting greatness, I'm expecting shots that veer towards the corner flag, I'm expecting goal kicks that go off for throw-ins, and yet I'm rewarded for my attendance with passionate football with plenty of flash points and a surprising amount of fluidity, composure, control and skill. How very refreshing to watch football with a positive attitude, enjoying the moments of flair when they come along as opposed to wallowing in the regular moments of despair.

As I said, I saw Horley go out of the FA Cup at Whyteleafe, I'd also seen them go out of the FA Vase against Newhaven, I was keen to see the side record a win. From what I had already witnessed, the ability was there, it was the confidence and belief in themselves that was lacking. Yesterday it was a different side.

Ashley Nadesan put the home side in front after only four minutes, taking the ball around a defender before picking his spot and slotting the ball past the keeper. Great composure. His second was very similar to the first, again his calmness on the ball belied his nineteen years.

Windsor had their centre forward red carded for a second bookable offense during the first period, after a slow start the cards were going to be out at frequent intervals. Late in the match one quick witted supporter questioned the man in the middle's failure to book the floodlights. At a smidgen over five feet tall, the official certainly had a dose of 'small man syndrome'. The linesman on our side of the ground however was old enough to be the referee's dad, with a balding head and pot belly, I wondered if he'd keep up with the pace of the game and true to form he struggled through the second half misjudging more than one decision.

Despite the difference in numbers Horley were good for their first half lead. The visiting supporters were lamenting the officials display as they trudged to the other end of the ground, our turn would come.

Colourful in their number, special mention must go to their flag. As I tweeted during the game, they are certainly punching above their weight in the flag stakes, this large St George's Cross would have happily graced any League One or Two ground.

Horley started the second half brightly and added to their lead on the hour mark, this emerged as the turning point for both the game, and the referee. Horley were also reduced to ten men as the card happy man in black bizarrely gave a second yellow to the Horley number eight. Shaking his head on his way off, it was quite apparent to all that he made no contact with the player at all. This evened the numbers up although tactical substitutions made it feel like Windsor now had the numerical advantage.

At half time Windsor brought on their number 17, Jason Sheehan. He went on to dominate the midfield, their passing was crisper under his influence and his vision was second to none. He read the game superbly whilst not being shy to run at full backs as well. The all round midfielder.

The Horley keeper made a succession of fine saves all afternoon before the visitors finally beat him, just seconds after resuming play at three down. Along with Nadesan and Sheehan, the man in green put in a fair shout for 'man of the match'. Once Windsor had a sniff of goal they continued to press doubling their tally ten minutes later. Horley held on though for the three points, yet both sides came very close to scoring more, the woodwork denying both teams on more than one occasion.

Both sides had characters, Horley's short Geordie number seven standing out with his vocals, the ref warning both sides more than once with a shout of "control the language Gents", but it was passionate football and we felt at times in the middle of the park it could have easily flared up. The Windsor captain appeared to be looking for a fight, the Horley captain (not a chap you'd argue with) pleading with the ref to use a bit of 'savvy'. With a stand/clubhouse on one side, fences on the other three you feel part of the game hearing every word, it's a great insight that you miss sat in a huge stand with thousands of others.

One thing that really stood out for me, on a ground far more exposed to the elements than these huge stadia we see on Match Of The Day, is the lack of gloves etc worn by the players. These are tough working class lads, there wasn't a base layer in sight. I may be wrong but I think even brightly coloured boots were in the minority.

Horley Town's ambition to avoid relegation is far more enthralling to me than England's bid to reach the World Cup. This is proper football and you can bet I'm going to see plenty more of it before the season is through.