Your reading a pre 2010-11 archived article
One of the glories of the great game of football is how quickly a player can go from zero to hero, literary in the blink of an eye. August Bank Holiday Monday, at the Rymans Premier local South London derby between Carshalton Athletic v Kingstonian provided such an example, a player who looked so Dog and Duck standard it was embarrassing and yet found himself the game winner with two late goals.
For those unaware of the complex geography of South London, Carshalton is a smallish suburb sandwiched between the giants of Sutton and Croydon. It has two non-league football teams, the major one being “Athletic”, although given that to get to their ground you have to walk down a track between a Girls school and an allotment god knows how little the other team is. The ground is meant to hold 8000, which if true means there is an hidden stand somewhere that only comes out for special occasions. One side looks like the cheap area of Ripon racetrack with an unique “beer garden” area, some wooden outdoor tables and benches sat feet from the touchline, and that is next to the main stand! Opposite is a full length covered standing area where the roof goes down in stages to reflect the slope of the pitch, very Barnet.
To be fair I am probably being over critical of “the Robins” after hearing that no programme was produced for the game “due to a printer issue”. At least I was given a photo-copied team-sheet, which they must have rushed to the turnstile quickly as it was accurate! A quick glace showed extensive changes in the K’s team that reflected the start to the season they had suffered. In the first 4 games they had shipped 19 goals, an alarming occurrence that provoked extensive transfer activity in and out. Two days earlier the revamped promoted club won away at Hendon and now faced a similar strong test.
Having got to know the recent history of Kingstonian from chatting to regulars, I have become aware of the cult of Bobby Traynor. By scoring boatloads of goals at Ryman South level this character is even the recipient of his own Facebook group! They like him at Kingsmeadow, however I can only go on what I see and based on a very early pre-season game I saw a pub player with an occasional decent finish. Traynor is in the team alongside the new faces that even the committed are having difficulty identifying.
Speaking of the committed, one aspect of non-league football I am starting to come to terms with is the concept of having extensive chats whilst the game is on, something you don’t do following “big-boys”. As the first half broke into life a series of these polite exchanges started to flow, the most memorable of which is finding out one well-known (well in the area I live anyhow) K’s fan was at his 11th game of the weekend (had been grounding hopping in Wales the previous 3 days and has found a 10.00am kick-off somewhere on route back!). I suppose it makes a pleasant change from abusing referees and howling at errant players.
The first half started ok, in the first 15mins K’s played well but then got hit by two counter-attacks, the first had the bar rattled, the second saw a goal. The “robins choir” broke into a short song and we settled down to the rest of the first half being a bit staid. The difference between the two teams seemed to be the forwards, Carshalton’s looked nippy and tuned in, K’s looked beached. The tall lad of the two at least wanted to work hard, the little pub league legend Traynor didn’t seem to want to do sweet all. When he did get the ball his touch looked woeful, not a lot to impress. Clearly keen to impress however was the referee who treated all contact as if he was officiating the Champions League final, this becomes significant later!
The second half isn’t much better, with K’s now attacking down the slope but finding it impossible to get a shot on target. The other striker is engaged in a running battle with a gobby centre-half and the flow of the game as become disjointed, you started to feel you wanted fulltime sooner rather than later, then it happened, one of those game-changing moments courtesy of Mr Fussy. Having dished out bookings for very little earlier I was not surprised he reacted to a full-blooded (but fairly mild in old fashioned 70’s tackling terms) challenge by reaching for his pocket, what happens next however is pure circus. The Carshalton player who committed the “foul” has hurt himself (although the K’s player tackled is up quickly), as it often the case a crowd of players gather around the player getting treatment, swigging from bottles and generally milling, this obscures from the whole ground the sight of the referee brandishing a red in the face of the injured player, strange decision, expressed even stranger. The crowd look on bemused as the offender limps off not to be replaced (but just to add to the confusion Carshalton made a substitution at that moment). Suddenly everyone is playing counting games, a drone like buzz of “is he off, are they down to 10” is heard and in surreal moment the K’s hardcore behind the goal work out what’s happened (games being going on for a few minutes by now) and a loud cheer erupts.
K’s don’t seem to be making much headway, the pub player is getting worse and they have thrown on the non passing man mountain midfield player who so unimpressed me at Leatherhead. They have also thrown on a guy answering to the name Beckford, always an interesting moment for a Leeds fan that. Time kicks away and the K’s support, which must have been half the crowd, has a resigned look about it, brought on mostly by the sight of the man mountain heading widely over twice from 6 yards out. It’s just not going to be their day.
But wait, as the conversations that started earlier fade, out of the blue come a hopeful lump down the slope, two K’s players chase towards it, the pub player gets their first and in a moment best summed up as a “what do I know” one, Traynor left-foots it home from the edge of the box, bullet style along the grass, 1-1 in the dying embers. Delight all over the K’s fans. A lucky point, “take that”, not on your life, a few minutes later a corner is won, up jump a gaggle of tall players, the man mountain is as close as anyone to heading the ball as it races towards the goals and with a flick so deft it’s was wafer like, pub player flicks it home. Pandemonium, hardly time to kick-off again and it’s the latest 2-1 steal I’ve seen since Everton 81.
If that finish showed anything it was never judge a book by its cover, the little no9 may look over-weight, be as mobile as a catering van with a flat tyre and pass less that the more famous Beckford but he seems to have a touch of the Clive Allen’s when he gets a chance to shoot. The moral of this story, no idea but it might involve respecting the pub player level more.
