No. 85: Boundary Park [Oldham Athletic]

Sunday, 3rd May 2015
Oldham Athletic v. Peterborough United [League One] 1-1

Waking up a little hungover in a Blackburn hotel room after a night drinking one too many fizzy lagers, I was glad I only had a short hop over the West Pennines to Oldham on this Sunday morning.

I was not so glad that the Football League had again deemed apt a 12.15 kick-off for the final games of the League One season. This meant I was still on the road by 9.30am in order to have a look around the town pre-match, a little bleary-eyed.

Oldham is one of those places never likely to be on most tourists' bucket list - and that's not because there is anything particularly unpleasant about this town, it's just that there is nothing to particularly to see here at all - pleasant or unpleasant.

Oldham Parish Church & War Memorial.

Little more than a scattering of houses across moorlands until the 18th century, Oldham came into being as a 'new' factory town thanks to the Industrial Revolution: its location in between Manchester and Yorkshire made it an ideal location for situating the many cotton mills.

Indeed, Oldham was the centre of the world's cotton-spinning for much of the 19th century - and at its peak in the early 20th century there were 360 mills here, with the bulk of the town's population employed in cotton-spinning or the coal-mining industry that supported it.

So Oldham really is the epitome of a northern industrial town with very little history before the factories came here.

As such, also being only 7 miles north of Manchester, a lot of the culture and identity of Oldham is subsumed within the great city on its doorstep.

So it's difficult to find something culturally "Oldham" that isn't just an extension of the Metropolitan area of which it is a constituent part. Especially at 10am on a Sunday morning! But I did try.

I parked up next to the pretty parish church with its impressive war memorial in the town centre, and went for a quick stroll around to see what there was to see.

As stated, it being early on a Sunday morning, the answer was not very much. If I'd had a bit more time and it hadn't been such an early start, I'm sure it would have been a bit more lively.

Some Sights of Oldham Town Centre on a Sunday Morning. Mostly Closed.

But as it was the Tommyfield Market was closed, The Hamilton Arcade was closed, The Snipe Inn was closed, and I'd bloody well missed the Oldham Real Ale Festival by 24 hours as well. Miserable!

There was little to do really than to grab myself some breakfast and head off to the game. My choice was the usual high street fast food and bakery chains, or to try a local greasy spoon cafe near the closed marketplace that looked a little rough and ready.

Well, rough and ready seems to be my watchword on these 92 Club trips, so into the Blue Onion Cafe was where I headed for a £2.95 'Budget Breakfast' and a cup of builders' tea. Lovely stuff, although my jumper did seem to be sticking to a thick layer of grime on the table, and the ceiling seemed to be leaking into my tea at the corner of my window-side table. The Ritz this wasn't - but the grub was hearty fare enough.

Blue Onion Cafe, Oldham. A proper greasy spoon!

Vote Bez. If you like.

I've already mentioned that Manchester is on the doorstep, so its influence in Oldham is strong. The Blue Onion cafe certainly ran with that, as I was treated to an endless loop of Simply Red's greatest hits whilst reading an election flyer for former-Happy Monday's dancer Bez's Reality Party.

Mad fer it.

As this was written before the general election, I'm unsure at this stage if Bez was actually elected into power but I wish him well in that effort.

Satisfactorily sated, I hoped in the car and drove off to the game at Boundary Park. Except, it isn't officially called that anymore. For sponsorship purposes I'm supposed to refer to it as Sportsdirect.com Park.

I'm not going to do that though. This is Boundary Park.

The New 'North Stand' - Opening in 2015.

There is a lot of change here though. The first thing you notice when parking up in the car park is the looming unfinished edifice of the new North Stand - currently being completely rebuilt to a modern spec and set for opening next season.

George Hill Main Stand, Boundary Park.

The new stand will be in stark contrast to the rest of the ground, and in particular the George Hill Main Stand that I had a seat in this afternoon. The current Main Stand dates from 1913 and it shows its age in places, but it reeks of character and I have to admit I love watching football from a stand like this.

Rustic Seating - Main Stand.

Squeezing through a tight iron turnstile, walking up crumbling concrete staircases surrounded by painted brick walls, there is a  faint aroma of mildew present as you pass upwards, emerging from the tinted darkness of the concourse to within view of the pitch as the sky opens up above you.


What a fantastic and atmospheric way to enter a football ground, and without wanting to labour the point, an experience that is dying out slowly but surely with modern stadium developments.

Necessary, I know, but still slightly unwelcome for me.

I took my seat - actually a long wooden back with a flimsy plastic flip-chair tacked onto it, and revelled in the uncomfortable squeeze and the view partially obscured by the posts holding the roof up. This was proper football indeed!

View from back of Main Stand, towards Rochdale Road End.

A view shared by my neighbours sat on the wooden bench-backs, a party of Dutch groundhoppers who had the day before been at Old Trafford watching Manchester United. Why had they decided to come and watch Oldham today, I asked them.

"This is real football - a real ground, real fans, and this is what really it is all about. This will be a real atmosphere today, we can't wait for it!"

I agreed with him on the sentiment about the realness of it, but I did temper his expectations somewhat that he was unlikely to get much of an atmosphere in a end of the season game between two teams with nothing left to play for in front of fewer than 4,000 fans.

Looking towards Main Stand from back of the Rochdale Road End.

Their enthusiasm couldn't be dampened though, and they spent the game enthusiastically joining in with cheers and songs for the home team, even when that meant just screaming random vowel sounds when they didn't quite know the words. Fair play to them.

And fair play too must be given to the 'Athleticos' in the bottom corner of the Chaddy Road end. A group of young fans who despite their need for a fucking drum (sorry, I don't approve of drums to create atmosphere), were in fine voice throughout the game.

Chaddy End Athleticos: Topoff visible bottom right.

Chief amongst their number was a 15-year old lad that I was told attends every Oldham game, cheerleading the Athleticos without his shirt on. He's rather predictably known as "Topoff" and was indeed quite visible throughout.

It was quite a mild afternoon so I'm sure Topoff's mother wouldn't be worried about him catching his death on this occasion. But as Boundary Park is anecdotally known as "the coldest ground in the Football League", I'd be interested to return to the ground former manager Joe Royle christened 'Ice Station Zebra' in mid-December and see if Topoff has actually turned blue.

Perhaps this would be his way of proving he genuinely is "Oldham till he dies" after all, turning the actual colour of his beloved team's shirt and freezing to death in the Chaddy Road End. Silly sod.

The game itself was a lot better than expected given its dead rubber status. Oldham grabbed the lead within 10 minutes from a sliced header that looped past Peterborough's keeper from man of the match Dominic Poleon, who ran the Posh full-backs ragged down the left wing in the first half.

I had a front-seat view of this from the front row of the upper Main Stand and quite enjoyed the display - so much for two teams going through the motions. The game did tail off a bit in the second half until former world-record triple-jumper Jonathan Edwards was sent off for Peterborough for a scything tackle.

The Sending-Off of Jonathan Edwards. Inset: The Moment Before Impact.

I suggest sticking to the day job, Jonathan.

Oldham took their foot off the gears a little after this and despite having a man advantage, conceded the equaliser shortly after the sending-off.

I've never quite understood why, but it does seem to be an unwritten rule of football that the team with a man sent off always rallies and often get something out of a game they looked less-likely to get when the teams were evenly-numbered. Go figure.

By the time of the final whistle, even the now mostly drunk Dutch guys had pretty much had enough as the game fizzled out to a slow finish. The game being something of a metaphor for both teams' mediocre season, starting optimistically but ending with a slow drawn-out fight for mid-table mediocrity.

Turnstiles and Rochdale Road End Behind, Boundary Park.

With the final whistle, a few hundred Oldham fans spilled over the advertising hoardings for a quick aimless run around the pitch as is the time-honoured end-of-season tradition (again bonkers given they've not achieved anything!).

I did consider running on myself just for the hell of it, but decided instead for a few moments of reflection from my wood and plastic seat.

I took a little time to say goodbye to this fine rickety old Main stand whilst looking out at the empty concrete building site opposite, a football pitch separating 100 years of football development. And a very fine position to finish and reflect on my own amazing 2014-2015 season.

Oldham's New North Stand: Coming for the 2015-16 Season.

I haven't quite finished the 92 yet, but I'm down to single-figures and unless I die or something, it'll be complete at some time within the next year.

I've been to some amazing places since August that I wouldn't have otherwise gone, done more culture than I've ever done around a football game and eaten some amazing and some questionable food.

I've also been to some absolute fucking shitholes I'd initially rather not have been in - but by trying to look on the positive side for this blog, I've actually found a positive side for all of them (even Luton!) and can genuinely say I'm glad I did every single one of the games I've blogged this season.

Seven more to go then (actually eight because of Barnet's promotion!) and I'll be back sometime in August to complete them. See you then!

With thanks to David Finnegan (@Aldehulme).

NEXT UP : TBC in August 2015!

No. 84: Ewood Park [Blackburn Rovers]

Saturday, 2nd May 2015
Blackburn Rovers v. Ipswich Town [Championship] 3-2

My goodness this was an early start. A 12.15 kick-off for the last day of the Championship season (why exactly, I'm not sure) meant I had to leave home at 7.30am to be in Blackburn in good time for this clash.

Typical bank holiday weekend weather, it was cold and drizzly rain when I arrived in Lancashire just under 4 hours later. This was the first game of a double-header this weekend so I had booked a room for the evening in the surprisingly comfortable Fernhurst Lodge, within eyesight of The House that Jack Built.

After parking up at the hotel, I walked down to the ground and took in Ewood Park for the first time. It's an impressive ground - three of the four stands having been built in the 1990s by Jack Walker's steel millions.

Money that also of course bought the club the Premiership title in 1995 - something that you are reminded of outside the ground where pictures of Walker and star striker Alan Shearer lifting the gaudy trophy are plastered in-between the stands.

For obvious reasons, Walker is still revered in Blackburn and there is a statue outside the Blackburn End claiming him to be "Rovers' Greatest Supporter". Certainly, his £600m fortune was ploughed into Blackburn in the 90s, turning them from a mid-table 2nd tier side into Premiership champions.

In the years since Walker died in 2000, these sort of 'sugar-daddies' bankrolling Premiership football clubs have become commonplace - and frankly, £600m would hardly touch the sides these days in times when Abramovich and Sheikh Mansour can draw on personal wealth in the tens of billions to buy titles.

Blackburn End Facade, Ewood Park.

But Walker was the first to throw personal wealth at an unfashionable club, and the first to successfully challenge the established order in the age of Premiership money.

What is never forgotten though, especially in these parts, is that he was always just a local boy supporting his local team - so it's difficult not to begrudge him nor Rovers' fleeting time at the top and to judge it quite the same as today's cash-rich clubs.

BRFC Memorial Garden @ Ewood Park and inset: Jack Walker Statue nearby.

It still seems so recent but 20 years ago was a very different time in football terms and Blackburn and Walker's 'buying' of the title has to be viewed differently than it would similarly today, I feel.

This very much still feels like a club of its community. Despite some bad feeling towards current owners the Venkys, manager Gary Bowyer, in charge since relegation from the top flight in 2012, seems to have steadied a ship that was looking down the barrel of a second successive relegation to the 3rd tier. On the pitch at least, this looks like a side that could challenge for a return to the top flight again next season.

View of Ewood Park from the wooded hilltop behind.

I had a quick scout around the ground, surrounded on three sides by red-brick terraced houses, typical of a post-industrial Lancashire mill-town, and behind the Riverside Stand by a wooded hill that I remember always being visible when games came live from here in the Premiership's early days. You are never far from the beautiful Pennine countryside in these parts.

Ewood Butty Box. Inset: Breakfast Butty!

I had just enough time to grab some food pre-match after my long journey, and elected for a sausage & black pudding teacake from the Ewood Butty Box near the ground. Absolutely bloody lovely and did take the edge off the driving drizzle and cold wind whistling around Blackburn.

Shortly after kick-off I realised in fact that I had not come properly attired for an afternoon sat in Ewood Park in early May. I had come with a thick jumper and a warm coat on, easily well-attired for an afternoon sat in Ewood Park in May, I had initially thought.

But I hadn't allowed for the fact that on this particular Ewood Park afternoon in May, Blackburn seemed to have the weather from northern Norway in January. It was absolutely freezing as a cold Arctic wind seemed to be whipping in off the West Pennines and designed to head directly through my clothes to chill my very bones.

The Riverside Stand: Oldest at Ewood Park, completed 1988.

Thankfully, the game was a lively enough affair, and a half-time cup of Bovril warmed the cockles enough to keep me in my seat for the full 90 minutes.

Blackburn of course had nothing to play for other than pride. Visitors Ipswich had it all to play for, but only needed to pick up a point to guarantee play-offs, and it looked like they were going to  comfortably cruise into the post-season after going 1-0 up in the second minute.

But credit to the home side, they fought back strong and before half-time went in 2-1 up, and the Tractor Boys in the stands were looking worried - Brentford were winning and now had a superior goal difference - Ipswich would be out of the play-offs if only Derby could earn point at home to lowly Reading.

Ipswich Fans in the Darwen End Stand.

But then, Ipswich were still in the driving seat and only needed that point themselves - could they get it in the second half and ease their fears?

No. 3-1 Blackburn on 58 minutes. Suffolk fingernails were being chomped nervously in the Darwen End.

Suddenly, a roar from the visitors with 20 minutes to go - they'd heard that Derby had gone 2-0 down and were looking unlikely to overtake Ipswich, regardless of the result at Ewood Park. Shortly after, Ipswich pulled a goal back from the penalty spot. Then at Derby, Reading also scored a penalty to make it 0-3 and it was game over for the Rams.

Match Action!

Ipswich would be heading into the play-offs to take on arch rivals Norwich for a place at the Wembley final.

After all that tension - Ipswich actually were never out of a play-off position at any point that afternoon - but only scraped in on goal difference in the end. What a climax to the season!

Blackburn Museum & Art Gallery: Closed.

I was quite happy to get out of the ground and go and warm up in my hotel room for a bit, so didn't stay to clap off the players. But thanks to the early kick-off, it was still only 2.30pm and I had a whole evening in Blackburn to look forward to!

Only problem is, not to be too unkind to the town - there isn't really much to do here. I could have spent an hour or two in the Museum and Art Gallery, which apparently has a fantastic Egyptology collection, but that had closed by the time I walked into the town centre.

I had a walk around trying to find something else cultural I might be able to while away my time with, but I'd left it a little bit late. Even the shutters were coming down on the 'Blackburn is Open" pop-up arts centre. Which was only slightly ironic.

"Blackburn is Open". No, it isn't.

The only pub I could find that didn't seem a bit ropey was the Wetherspoon's next to the cathedral, 'The Postal Order' - of usual standard for the pub chain which at least meant you could grab a decent beer or two.

So I popped in there for a quick pint and scoured the internet for other options that evening. My fears and those of other locals I'd already consulted were confirmed - there wasn't really anything to entertain a visitor for the evening in Blackburn.

Basically, I could either:
a) Spend £30 to see The Chatty Man himself Alan Carr, who was performing that evening in     Blackburn's King George's Hall;
b) Look at the statue of William Gladstone;
     or
c) Look at a shrub planted in a 'Welcome to Blackburn' plant pot.

The delights of Blackburn: Cathedral, Gladstone, Shrub & Alan Carr Concert.

I decided against 'a' on the grounds of being a fan of comedy, completed 'b' and 'c' in full and then went to get some grub.

Thankfully, on the food front Blackburn did not disappoint. The number one recommend I'd had was to try the Calypso Caribbean restaurant up in Eanam Wharf, just a 10 minute walk from the town centre past the Thwaites brewery.

After my meal, I managed to have a quick chat with the proprietor Dave Wilson, who was hanging around by the entrance greeting his customers and keeping an eye on things. Dave grew up on Moss Side in Manchester, surrounded by a West Indian community and learnt to cook Caribbean food from a friend's grandmother. He married a Blackburn lass and so decided - why the hell not open up a restaurant here? I'm glad he did - it was fantastic.

Calypso Caribbean Restaurant, Blackburn. Yeh Man!

Calypso was actually fully-booked that evening but the friendly girl at the bar said she'd fit me in if I was able to be in and gone by 8pm. As it was only 6pm I didn't think that would be a problem, so took my seat and ordered a can of Red Stripe whilst perusing the authentic menu.

I hadn't quite realised I'd be eating such a feast when I agreed to the 2 hour time limit though, and in the end I only just made it out in time! Not being a connoisseur of Caribbean food, I went for the Chef's Platter to get a good selection of everything. Or as the menu said - "a little bit of dis and a little bit of dat!"

Chef's Platter, Calypso Restaurant. Excellent!

It sure did have a bit of everything - curried goat, meat patty, jerk chicken, fried plantain, dumplings, rice & peas and more - what a great meal! I even washed it down with a crisp, refreshing 'Trinidad' cocktail (rum, peppermint and coconut water) and a mango and coconut cheesecake to finish.

I was stuffed to the rafters and just about managed to wobble out of the door just before my 8pm time limit was up.

Having asked in the restaurant where the best place for a few beers on a Saturday evening in Blackburn was, I was disappointingly told the Wetherspoon's I'd already been in was by far the best option. I tried another place instead nearby but realised they were right.

I had another couple of disappointing pints in ugly keg-beer only pubs in town before calling it a day, and wondering whether I should have gone to see The Chatty Man after all. Especially when I was almost roped into a needless scrap in the Wetherspoon's when one group of lads took exception to being told to stop swearing by another group and asked me for my opinion.

I told them I didn't give a fuck about swearing in pubs and made my exit.

Blackburn Street Scene, Town Centre.

So Blackburn's pub scene was sadly lacking. You can't have everything though, and I did have a great feed, saw a cracking game of football and had a comfortable bed for the night rather than a four-hour drive home to look forward to. And of course, I saw another town I would not have seen were it not for this blog. And I'm grateful for that.

Blackburn might not have much of a nightlife, but they've got a football club that won the Premiership title 20 years ago - I'm sure the locals will forego the gastropubs and CAMRA recognition for that legacy any day.

With thanks to Chris Heartfield (@pokermaniac2012)

Next up - OLDHAM ATHLETIC!