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Friday 5th September 2003: So I’m an exile then. Nothing particularly radical in that as Warrington, St. Neots and Bristol-based associates have been spotted offering proud support on terraces up and down the country. Without doubt, there are many others for whom the Hawk result holds the key to a good or bad Saturday night. We are the boys (and girls) from the New West Leigh, wherever we might be. Nonetheless, it is a peculiar feeling, and one that will take a great deal of getting used to. In the last issue, I talked about the drug-like nature of following this club. Now it feels like I’ve been the subject of an intervention, like I’ve been sat down and lectured to by those close to me, informing me how much I’ve neglected them in the previous 4 years (since I initially got hooked in ’99), coercing me into giving up my chosen intoxicant. Only got myself to blame though, and I’ll admit to feeling more than a little Hawk-sick after only a week here in Yorkshire. Luckily, the chance to fill my veins with some Stafford action arrives only three weeks after my move up-country. Bring it on! However, my best-laid plans to replace the nicotine of the Dr Martens with the nicotine patch of the Unibond have not come to fruition just yet either. Perhaps it’s the need to prove I can live without a football fix, but choosing an open-air performance of ‘Hamlet’ in the cloisters of Kirkstall Abbey over a jaunt to Stalybridge against Southport? Well, that’s just bizarre behaviour, whatever your opinion of the Bard, and I shall be consulting psychologists, neurologists and possibly a vet to determine what is happening in my head. “Alas poor Skiffoid…” etc. Saying that, it was a good night and not totally unrelated to football as the Abbey ruins did at least bring back memories of visiting Chippenham Town last year. The following day, a desire to bond over dinner with my new housemates, some met only briefly before, one not at all, put paid to my previous pick of Bradford Park Avenue vs. Whitby. Two sides to every story though and considering BPA’s athletics stadium home would look at the Chip’s Hardenhuish Park and consider it quite smart; some might consider this a lucky escape. So not an unproductive first week, but footywise, I’m leaving a lot to be desired. Monday 8th September 2003: I am not overly surprised by my lack of get up and go thus far – as I suggested in the last edition, visiting new grounds is great and something in which I take a keen interest, but it just ain’t the same as doing it from a vocally partisan standpoint. Nonetheless a trip to Belle Vue, for Doncaster’s Sky-televised tussle with Hull, on my second Monday in the North seemed a good way to begin my assault on the northern territories. However being remarkably thick, as some of you will have spotted, I didn’t consider the potential interest in the game considering Doncaster’s recent return to the league and Hull not being a million miles away. At 13:05 on the afternoon of the game, I checked the Donny website, and although the game wasn’t sold out, it was all-ticket. Tickets being sold up to 13:00. Bugger. Finally, and just the next day, the duck was broken. A chance to see legendary Northern Premier outfit Blyth Spartans on their visit to Harrogate Town was snapped up, as a round trip to WLP for the Eastbourne game was, although considered, deemed to be lunacy, albeit only a touch more than my Harrogate choice. However this foolishness was rewarded by two great 30 yard strikes per side and a tap in to win it for Harrogate leaving the green and white striped Blyth boys pretty Di-spirited considering their 7-3 home thrashing by Vauxhall Motors three days prior. Not much in the way of chanting from either set of fans (about 450 I reckon, pretty good for the Unibond) and not much grumbling toward the officials. Is the entire Northern League this polite, I wonder? I hope to be able to tell you more in the next Branchlines! skif Leeds Branch back to index |