When I set foot in North Ferriby’s Church Road ground at 2:27 today I had no thoughts of writing an article about it although as time went on I thought “Why not?” so here it is.
I do enjoy my trips to Ferriby, in previous seasons I have usually made about 7 games when City have been playing away and I cannot afford travel or there wasn’t a City game. Cheap food and admission, familiar faces on the pitch and good quality football. This season I’ve only managed a couple of games due to me being let down by City more often as I travel to away games. Also the admission has rose by a couple of quid and a large amount of the familiar faces from City’s past have fled as well, no longer are we treated to Andy Flounders greying temples or Darren Frances’ beer gut. However the performances on the pitch remain the same high standard and it is that fact that attracted me, my father and my good friend and fellow member of the Tiger Nation (© Amber Nectar) Cactus Jack along to this fixture.
The only former City first teamer on show today was Adam Lowthorpe. I always liked ‘Dennis’ when he was at Boothferry and his play is virtually identical to that when he was at City. He counter attacks with venom and is still sound defensively, the only difference is his rapidly receding hairline and the fact he is a few pounds heavier than his pro days. Ferriby went into today’s game without captain Bob Dewhurst (Who is like the Baresi of this division, seriously!) and wonderfully gifted striker Vil Powell.
The one thing I love about the Unibond league is the fact that there are many different washed up former pros, for example I saw the permed Simon Trevitt play last year and he was still shit. Today’s opponents were Leek Town who had the fantastically named Franck-Michael M’Fomo upfront. The pitch resembled a Dagobah swamp and not something a size 5 Diadora football should be kicked about on.
Infact that turned out the be the case as the majority of the game the ball was in the air and lightweight Ferriby strikers Gavin Knight and Paul Palmer were left running about aimlessly. Palmer actually bares a passing resemblance to this sites’ webmaster with his skinny torso and gormless, drawn features.
Mid-way through the 1st half I was given the chance to actually write this article. Ryan Williams, Lawrie Dudfield and Mark Greaves all casually walked up to the food kiosk. Williams was a site to behold decked in tartan baseball cap, denim jacket jeans and the most putrid pair of trainers I have ever seen, bright bloody purple. I spotted both Dudders and Williams sneaking off into the bar at half time. Knowing of the two players’ fondness for alcoholic beverages I slipped off to stalk them. Thankfully they were only playing the fruit machine, Williams like a small child telling his older brother in Dudfield which buttons to press.
Both Greaves and Dudders bought a cup of diesel oil….sorry tea and shipped off around the other side of the ground. Still I did have the pleasure of seeing “This is Boothferry Park guy” Martyn Hainstock enjoying a hot dog and also watching the Bobby Charlton haircutted Leek manager refer to his own keeper as a “f*cking clown.”
That was about it really. The game finished 0-0, Dudfield slipped off into the bar again as the other 180 made their way home to thaw out.
James Richardson
Saturday 1st March 2002 |
