Littlehampton Town P-P Broadbridge Heath, Bognor Regis Town P-P Gosport Borough, etc.
Sometimes the weather just proves too much to overcome.
I’m pretty much neutral on whether there’s a God. It’s not a matter of wanting or not wanting to believe, it’s a matter that the reasons put forward for why I should do so—why anyone should do so—seem more designed to protect power systems than say anything about the existence or otherwise of an all-powerful creator. Proof denies faith, eh? How convenient. Sounds like something that someone without any proof would say.
If proof denying faith is so important, why are all those tenuous examples of ‘proof’ that God exists—pictures of Jesus’s face on a slice of toast, the Turin Shroud (which is effectively the same thing, but from a mediaeval time before the invention of the four-slice electric toaster)—given such prominence by churches? I guess I’ll find out some day one way or the other for sure. Increasingly, it feels as though it will be sooner rather than later.
Were I looking for some proof of the evidence of a God that hates me, I could do worse than consider six months of my life. My dad’s been ill and my kids are now at two different schools, which is an extra layer of things to have to remember. I lost my job, and my freelancing status is just precarious enough for it to continue to feel like it will turn into something so long as I keep on keepin’ on while offering no security, peace of mind, or a standard of living worthy of the name.
Every time a period of comfort—and by ‘comfort’, I mean all bills paid, enough money for food for the next few weeks, and the like; I don’t ask for that much—threatens to present itself, something comes along and snatches it away. Meanwhile, at a time when every single second of my day, from 6am until getting on for midnight, is occupied by something or someone. Everyone wants a piece of me. Do this. Do that. Do the other. Keep giving yourself up until there’s nothing left. Not an hour, eventually not a person. Increasingly, I’m being reduced to a ball of anxiety and depression.
This particular week, I’m not going to lie, I’m also relieved that the rain fell in such exceptional quantities as to prove match-going more or less impossible. The process by which I choose a game for a Saturday afternoon is determined by a range of factors:
Is it achievable to get to by public transport and back? At a time when it seems to have been decided that only people who primarily use public transport on Fridays and Saturdays—what is this ‘weekend’ of which you speak? I do not get a ‘weekend’—bear the brunt of strike action that is never going to end, it’s far from guaranteed that I can even get out of this town on a Saturday. And even if I can, is it within a reasonable distance of a railway station? Because I sure as hell can’t afford a taxi at the other end. Talking of which…
Can I afford it at all? My Network Railcard expired a couple of months ago and since then I’ve not had the money to renew it, adding a third to any train ticket I care to buy. And when even non-league matches can cost upward of £15, is that a cost that I can justify to myself? Do the numbers through this Substack justify it? I have Saturdays to myself nowadays, but this all costs money that increasingly I simply do not have.
Have I done this ground before? There are two main reasons why I’m approaching match-going in the way that I am this season. Firstly, there is no team in my vicinity that I ‘support’. Lord knows I’ve tried, but it just isn’t happening., and the result of this has been deeply unsatisfying, going to see the same four or five teams and not really feeling anything whether they win or lose. At least this way, I get to visit some new grounds.
Is there a good story going on? Steyning Town was a good story. Horsham was a good story. Ultimately, I’m doing this equally for myself—as you may have read between the lines, I need a break from the constant stresses—and for this newsletter. And the second half of that sentence is as important as the first. If I’m to charge money for this, I have to make it value for money and these Saturday write-ups have become a central plank of it.
The planning process for this starts a couple of days beforehand, and this week my original selection was Littlehampton Town vs Broadbridge Heath in the Isthmian League Division One South-East. A new ground, a bus journey away. But… I kind of knew this was coming. The weather forecasts were bad, and even though forecasts for the south coast can be worth less than they’re written on because the weather here is so changeable, those forecasts were pretty universally bad that it felt as though back-ups would be required.
By the time of their pitch inspection on Saturday morning, I already knew the outcome and was planning accordingly. It was down as a 1.00pm kick-off, so I’d have to leave early. If I was in Littlehampton by the time the game was called off, my back-up was Bognor Regis Town vs Gosport Borough in the FA Trophy. Not a new ground—I’ve been there a few times before—and further away, but still achievable if Littlehampton was off.
I also had a third choice, Worthing United vs Dorking Wanderers B in the Southern Combination Football League, another ground I’ve visited before but not for a few years. But I’m averse to first teams playing the same leagues as development teams and the like, and I also already knew that I’d seen a game in the rain there before during which the pitch turned into something more suitable for the planting of potatoes. I’d been planning on going there a week earlier, only for it to be rained off. As it’s barely a mile from my house, I could see the likelihood of it actually taking place from my kitchen window and it was slim.
They fell in quick succession. Littlehampton fell first, following a 9.30 inspection. Bognor followed soon afterwards. Worthing United decided to act the tease. Their 10.15 inspection was delayed by a late-arriving referee. But when the news came through shortly before eleven o’clock, it was exactly as expected. They had also fallen foul of the weather.
There was one remaining option. Lancing were playing division leaders Three Bridges in the Isthmian League Division One South-East, walking distance or a 40 minute walk from home. But since this would be my fourth outing there this season—at least their 3g pitch would ensure that it was played—I decided against that, too, imagining myself looking out the window at half an hour of sun, deciding that it might make a nice walk, and then eventually turning up at Culver Road looking like I’d decided to have a quick scuba dive on the way. Even my most waterproof of boots have holes in them, these days. Fuck that.
So, I stayed at home, keeping up to date with the afternoon’s football until I didn’t any more. Chelsea vs Brentford was an entertaining watch (although the second Brentford goal could have done with some musical accompaniment from the Benny Hill theme tune), but after that I lasted until 3.10. Then for an hour or so, just after 5. Then another hour or so in the evening. It turned out that I needed sleep more than I needed to be at any football match.
I wasn’t the only victim of this. This weekend was supposed to be the weekend of the Southern Combination Football League groundhop, for those who indulge themselves to this extent. They had six matches scheduled for this particular weekend, at Shoreham on Friday night followed by three on the Saturday and two on Sunday. Only one of those three survived the cull, a late Saturday afternoon match between Selsey and Roffey. At least the Sunday matches, a morning kick-off at Wick and an afternoon match at Billingshurst—survived. Godspeed, to those making those journeys. The deities may not have been shining upon me that much these last few days, but I’m now in a position where I expect no better. At least they have for someone.
I'm truly sorry to hear you are going through a hard time. Your writing during and since 200% has reliably brightened up my days for many years and I am sorry life is not being kind to you at the moment. You have a knack of writing about football and life in a way that many of us relate to, avoiding the usual cliches and churn. You come across as relatable and normal.
Littlehampton and Bognor were my 1st port of calls, ended up at Lancing for a very decent game!
Took in Wick vs Oakwood this morning, didn't go the full distance however!
Should give me a shout for games Ian, more than happy to give you a lift somewhere if I'm going.