For
me and many other football fans, the advent of Twitter has opened up a Pandora’s Box of delights, in terms of
conversations, from the intense to the banal, with fans of other clubs. In no
particular order, I’ve forged on-line friendships with followers of Stoke,
Wigan, Everton, Man Utd, Man City, FCUM, Tooting and North Ferriby. To a
greater or lesser extent, I follow the fortunes of these clubs, well apart from
the Mancunian duopoly of course, with more than one eye on how their results
are refracted across the internet.
Indeed, with some of them, I’ve gone to the extent of penning regular
pieces for their fanzines, which is where my connection with North Ferriby
comes from. I got to meet the founder of View
from the Allotment End and all round good guy and semi-groundhopper Darren
Norton, watching his dad’s team Bridlington knock Whitley Bay out the FA Cup
back in about 2014. Whenever work has brought him to Tyneside, I’ve seen him at
other grassroots grounds places, including my beloved Benfield’s Sam Smith’s
Park, though as we lost to Dunston that night, we don’t want him back any time
soon. Or his dad, whose Bridlington outfit put us out the cup two qualifying
rounds later.
Darren’s
Twitter account, and that or several
of his pals, who were similarly disillusioned Hull City fans, driven away from
their original club by the intransigence and wilful mismanagement of the
Allams, reflected the events of a breathless 6-year helter-skelter ride up and
down the non-league pyramid. In 2013, NFU won the Northern Premier League and
were promoted to the Conference North. Two years later, the beat Wrexham at
Wembley to lift the FA Trophy. In 2016, they won promotion to the Conference,
which seems scarcely credible, considering the size of village and ground. One
can just imagine the fevered twitching of net curtains in well-heeled Ferriby
when the Lincoln Transit Elite arrived en
masse. Sadly, this was the high water mark. Ferriby were relegated in short order from the
Conference in 2017 and National League in 2018. They began last season back in
the Northern Premier League, under the ownership of a certain Jamie Waltham. Things
didn’t go well. In the 33 games they played, the Villagers managed just two
wins and four draws, accumulating 10 points and putting them at the foot of the
table. North Ferriby's remaining fixtures were cancelled and the club was not permitted
to finish the season, after Waltham petitioned to have the club wound up on 15
March 2019 due to outstanding debts of £7,645.25. Considering an 18 year old
University student is expected to pick up a minimum of £9k in loans for their
first year fees, it seemed and seems, a ludicrously disproportionate reaction,
borne out of spite after fans revolted against Witham’s plan to move Ferriby
into Hull, because of the supposed “potential” to “grow the business” this
would have offered. Thankfully, the FA looked favourably on a supporter based
phoenix club and North Ferriby won a place in the Northern Counties East First
Division, two steps below where NFU would have found themselves at the start of
2019/2020.
Having
seen the incredible supernova of the team from the prim and prosperous hamlet
on the north bank of the Humber, with the bright lights of Hull and huge bridge
that acts as gateway to Lincolnshire a few short miles to the East, interpreted
through the on-line and printed thoughts and observations of fans of the club,
I had long held an inkling to visit, which was transformed to an urge to see
the place in the flesh and gauge how the phoenix club, now denuded of the
United suffix, are coping in the less than exalted realms of the Northern
Counties East Division 1. Hence, the visit of Swallownest, who hail from
Rotherham, on November 2nd, seemed an irresistible draw. As a
fanatical remainer, it also amused me to think I could spend a day in the Haltemprice
and Howden constituency, for so long represented with trademark idiocy and
stylish incompetence by the most farcically inept of all the shower of UK
Brexit Ministers, Super David Davis. The only unfortunate thing was that the
game wasn’t taking place 48 hours after Boris Johnson had been found dead in a
ditch.
The
day broke in autumnal beauty on Tyneside; the gold and russet hues of damp but
not drowned nature extended until almost Doncaster, where we had darkness at
noon and vivid imagery of trackside trees bucking and rearing in response to
squally gales. Changing trains at Donny, I took a deserted, freezing, two-coach
rattler, where the smeared and filthy leaking windows ran slick with rain
water, though the promising sight of players warming up as we passed Goole
Town’s ironically named Victoria Pleasure Grounds strengthened my resolve.
I
can never take the train towards Hull without thinking of a pal I went to
University with. Chris was from Hessle; fond of beer, Throbbing Gristle and
Hull City, he gained a third in Philosophy and returned to Humberside to manage
a branch of Burger King. We kept in touch. He married, had 3 kids, was even best
man at my wedding, and then decided he needed change. He spread his wings,
travelling to teach English as a Foreign Language; a decade shared between
Slovakia, Qatar and Korea, before changing gender. Chryssy, as she now is,
completed a PhD in the politics of gender and is now a post-doctoral researcher
at London University, investigating the effect of dementia on elderly trans
people. I’ve no idea if she still follows Hull City, but she’s reinvented her
world to make herself happy. Could supporters of North Ferriby United do
similar?
The
walk from Ferriby station to the ground is short and was completed in brisk
time as the sight of receding green and white scarves and hats in the distance
hinted at the location of Church Road. It’s a charming ground in a charming location;
there’s a cricket pitch across the way, with a friendly cat that deserved a
stroke and a pet, half hiding in the hedge of a house on the driveway to the
entrance. Egress is obtained for the amazingly reasonable price of a fiver. If
that doesn’t keep the fanbase loyal then nothing will. In the ground, there’s a
club shop that takes card payments, so I get a hat to keep the rain out and a
programme to read on the way back. Additionally, there are cheese, mash and
onion pies the size of a bin lid, with a dash of mustard for added piquancy, at
only £2 from the tea hut. I’m neither an epicure nor a vegetarian, but these
are the best comestibles I’ve had in a football ground in years.
Suitably
assuaged, I head into the bar and meet Darren. He’s here with his dad and
grandkids; 3 of the 4 generations of Norton down on the rattler from Hull. Man
United’s loss to Bournemouth is wearily unfolding on Sky, but most punters in the thronged room are concerned more with
the prospects of Hull away to Fulham and for any play here, as the rain continues
to sling it down. The ground drains well, so there’s no danger of a
postponement and the Norton clan shuffle me outside, as we take our place among
the 285 crowd (brilliant for this level, good for a lousy day, but a tad
disappointing as Hull are away and many other local sides have called games
off) behind the dug outs as the deluge stops at kick off. There’s a bunch of
other friendly types to meet as well.
Without
exception, the fanzine contributors and Ferriby fans Darren introduces me to,
are salt of the earth football fans; they may have been driven away from Hull
by the expense and idiocy and they may have feared the worst when NFU bit the
dust, but they’re here and proud to support the phoenix by the Humber. This is
their club and the lads on the pitch are doing them proud. The contest, such as
it is, involves Ferriby’s strikers peppering the Swallownest keeper and the
young lad repelling the attacks with everything he’s got. Finally he’s beaten;
debutant Dale crashes a header against the bar, then follows up to knock the
rebound in. It’s scant consolation for their dominance, but The Villagers are
delighted to go in at the break with their noses in front. Elsewhere Hull, Benfield and even Newcastle
United have all eased into 3 goal leads.
The
half time cuppa turns into a flask, as the second period is delayed because one
of the assistants has a calf injury. She’s replaced by an apprehensive looking
and somewhat aged assessor, as the game gets back underway somewhere near 4.10.
The rain has returned, but presents no danger to the game; despite the very low
bounce there is neither spray nor standing water. Where we do have a problem is
the flickering of the far end floodlights. Any debate whether a few missing
bulbs might cause a cancellation seems to be ended when Birch taps in for 2-0.
Swallownest are football people; they know they’ve lost and certainly don’t
want to be dragged back here with a bare XI and the management pretending to be
the subs on a midweek night for a real mauling. Ferriby have their dander up
and the fans are a fraction away from roaring the side home. Suddenly, on 81
minutes the referee, capriciously, calls a halt to proceedings; while it’s
pitch black outside the ground, the 75% of lights illuminating the game, are
more than adequate to get the home win done. This cuts no ice with the
officials, who stump off even as the lights come back on. Rather like Brexit,
the whole process has failed to reach a conclusion after dragging on
unnecessarily long. Nobody’s won.
Nobody’s lost. Nobody’s satisfied. However, thoughts always return to the good
news that there is still a football club in North Ferriby to support. Let’s all
ensure it stays that way eh?
Unlike
Brexit, North Ferriby FC is a good thing. Similar to my old pal Chryssy,
rebirth has brought strength and satisfaction. I strongly recommend you get
yourself along to Church Road for a game… on a dry day… when the clocks go
forward again…
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