Abandoned passions, silent terraces

There's a sad but interesting reminder come to my attention today, about the perilous existence of English football's lower-division and non-league clubs.  It's timely, as rumours about Torquay United's prospective new owners take a leap forward - not necessarily for the better - and Gulls fans wait, with bated breath, to hear the answers to the grimmest of questions.  Will we still have a football club?  What will the club look like?  How will it be run?  Where will it play?

Seaside resorts and successful football clubs seem to have an all-or-nothing relationship.  Bournemouth and Brighton have both come through mighty perilous journeys before arriving in happier climes.  Blackpool have tasted the sweet success of Premier League football, before plummeting down the divisions.  Morecambe and Southend seem, on the surface of it, to be making a consistently successful go of it.  And then there's Scarborough FC.  Scarborough FC, who came to Plainmoor in the second leg of the 1998 Division Three play-off semi final, lost, and subsequently spiralled into relegation, and then non-existence.  Recent chatter on a Torquay forum put me onto a website, with photos of the then-abandoned McCain Stadium, Scarborough's one-time home, and clearly as characterful as any you'd find in football.  Images of the empty ground, where spectators would once have chanted, cheered and waved their scarves in the air, seem particularly haunting, almost apocalyptic.  What a sorry affair, and what a sad demise of a football club, trying to survive in just the sort of town that makes our football pyramid unique in the world.

The eerie silence of the McCain Stadium (source: Urban Ghosts)

Of course, the story doesn't quite end there for Scarborough, with the arising of their phoenix club, Scarborough Athletic.  The team now play ten miles away in Bridlington, and are riding high, currently sitting second in the Evo-Stik Northern League First Division North.  Will they one day return to the glittering heights of the Football League?

The McCain in action (source: Derelict Places)

Back in Torquay, we wait for the news that will either confirm the future of our club, or ratify its conclusion.  Non-league football is a cruel, stark and brutal world, a million miles from the game that so many people know from Sky Sports or Match of the Day.  Winter is coming to the English Riviera - and unlike its usual balmy climate, the forecast of clubs past points towards a very cold, very dark season ahead.

Torquay in play-off action versus Scarborough at a packed-out plainmoor, 1998 (source: Herald Express)

Glorious Gulls - An underdog story

It's tough following a small football team.  There are more lows than highs, there is more pain than joy, and there are more miserable Saturday afternoons than you would find in the average Manchester United or Chelsea household.  Following Torquay United, as I have done for the last twenty years (longer, if you include my six-year-old self's trip to Wembley's famous twin towers in the 1991 play-off final)  I think it's fair to say that I, along with many others in south Devon, have lived a never-ending rollar coaster cheering on the Gulls; and what better way to re-live all the delight and agony, than with a visit to Torquay Museum's latest exhibition, Glorious Gulls - An Underdog Story.

Of course, there's far too much in this packed-out little exhibition to mention here, for within is documented the life of the football club, from humble beginnings to the... erm... humble modern age.  The journey begins at the club's 1899 formation, carries the visitor through those faltering first few years, its election into the Football League in 1927, and its many achievements since that time, including promotions, Wembley visits, and cup ties against footballing royalty such as Tottenham Hotspur.

Torquay United in 1927.  Note the black-and-white stripes, which earned United their first nickname - The Magpies

FA Cup third round programme, 1965.  Torquay secured an amazing 3-3 draw in this match thanks to goals from Atkinson and Stubbs.  The replay at White Hart Lane was captured by the newsreels - you can see highlights by clicking here. 

One of my favourite aspects of the exhibition was the old photographs, blown up large for the information boards.  Prolific goalscorer Sammy Collins, signed from Bristol City in 1948, scored 219 goals in 379 games for the Gulls, and set a goal scoring record in the 1955-56 season with 40 League and two cup goals.  There's also a shot of Jim McNichol and police dog Bryn, famous to all Torquay fans.  On 9 May 1987, Torquay United hosted Crewe Alexander in the final league fixture of the season.  Finding themselves 2-1 down with moments remaining, United were heading out of the Football League.  Jim McNichol paced down the wing and whipped in a cross, in the process confusing Bryn the police dog, who promptly ran onto the field and bit McNichol on the leg.  Medical treatment led to several minutes of stoppage time, from which Torquay defender Paul Dobson somehow found the net, saving Torquay's position in the Football League at the very death, and propelling the German Shepherd to local stardom.  Quite simply, it could only happen that way at Plainmoor.

Sammy Collins scores again

Jim McNichol shakes the paw of Bryn

There is also plenty of memorabilia from within my memory of supporting the Gulls, starting with the shirt worn by Kevin Hill in the 2008 FA Trophy final, which marked the midfielder's record-breaking 474th appearance in yellow.  Hill was a bit of a cult hero when I was a teenager, an ever-present throughout the years and held in high regard by the Torquay faithful.  There's also a nod, in caricature form, to one of my favourite players, St Vincent international, Rodney Jack.  Jack was banging in the goals at around the time I started regularly attending Torquay matches, and largely through his goals, United reached the Division 3 play-off final in 1998.  After defeat to Colchester, Crewe signed him for £650,000, but fans like me never forgot those lightning performances in yellow-and-blue.

Kevin Hill's FA Trophy final shirt

Rodney Jack

There's so much more to see and remember; automatic promotion under Leroy Rosenior in 2004; ultimate relegation into non-league football, twice; all the ups and downs in one well-thought-out and colourfully put-together exhibition, which will thrill Torquay United supporters and anybody else interested in the history of local football.  Of course, our visit coincided with a match day, and what better way to round off a trip down football's memory lane than by taking a seat in the familiar old ground, the usual crowd, the colours, sights, sounds and smells of your home football team, and with a 1-0 win to boot!  Real Madrid it ain't, but it's just as historic, and just as important to its fans.  This visit reminded me just how much I love my football - now come on you Yellows!

You can see all the photos from my visit to the Glorious Gulls exhibition by clicking here.

I know I am, I'm sure I am, I'm Torquay 'til I die

Am I the only person in the world who owns both a Torquay United shirt and an Eastleigh shirt?  The Gulls versus the Spitfires is not exactly a fixture I ever expected to see, but such is the pyramid of English football, that next year, this match will become a reality.

So, why do I own an Eastleigh shirt?  My dad spent a large part of his teenage life living in the Hampshire town, my grandparents lived there for over forty years, and my Grandad proudly built spitfires there during the Second World War.  In my childhood, Eastleigh was our holiday place, the destination of that annual August pilgrimage to Grandma and Grandad's and, on one such trip, we took in a match at the Silverlake Stadium, watching Eastleigh versus East Thurrock.

Fast forward fifteen-or-so years, and back at the Home of Football on the English Riviera, our beloved club has dropped out of the Football League for the second time in ten years.  Some view it as a crisis, but whilst I'm not ecstatic at the prospect of Conference football, I must admit there's a certain exoticism about Nuneaton, Welling, and Alfreton Town that you certainly won't find in the Football League.  You might be able to detect the slight hint of sarcasm in that last sentence, but the fact is that this is a (non) league populated by familiar foes with proud League histories, and we'll be locking horns with some decent clubs next season - Cambridge United, Grimsby Town, FC Halifax Town (the incarnation of the Shaymen of old), Kidderminster Harriers, Macclesfield Town, Wrexham, Aldershot Town, Hereford United...  My point is that the enjoyment of football needn't end with exit from the Football League; underneath is an interesting, intriguing world in which, for the first (nay, second) time in our history, we will be one of the bigger fish in the pond.  We should embrace this opportunity and re-build, tackle it head-on, hold our heads high, fight to regain our place in the 92, and look for a quick bounce-back.  And why not - we've done it before!

The events of late have led me to delve into my little box of football history for a trip down the memory lane.  Following the Gulls has never been an easy ride, and things seldom happen the straightforward way at Plainmoor, but in amongst the pain and suffering there are gems, up there with the best feelings that any supporter of any club will ever feel.  Through nearly twenty years of old programmes, newspaper articles, old tickets and photos documenting promotions, relegations, cup runs and come-backs, are memories spanning the whole spectrum of what the Beautiful Game is all about - one minute your team are running out at White Hart Lane, the next you're marvelling at just how bad York City's toilet facilities (I mean, a damp old brick wall) really are.  It all adds up the genuine football experience that is totally lost on the corporate, money-centric business that is the Premier League, but I know what I'd rather have - my little club, down by the sea, doing it the hard way, but doing it with plenty of heart.

 They say that it is always darkest before the dawn, so keep the faith, Yellow Army, remember your history and keep on fighting, for the sun will rise over Plainmoor again - We will be back!

The merry-go-round of management

Oh dear, it's that time of the football season again!  The festive fixtures are complete, the Christmas points have been tallied, there are winners (see Arsenal), and there are definite losers (cite Torquay United).  Now, Arsene Wenger might be off to enjoy a little January cheer before his big North London derby, but spare a thought for poor old Alan Knill, who's dismissal from Plainmoor yesterday leaves him queuing up to ride the merry-go-round of management once again.  Football's a strange business, and football management is the ultimate performance-related job description.  It's all about results and, if they don't come frequently enough, this invariably means the end of the road.

The merry-go-round of management

Now, I've been following the Gulls for a good many years now, and we've seen our fair share of managers come and go.  In fact, I can count twelve since I started regularly watching the team as a 14-year-old lad.  Between them, they share two promotions, two relegations, five play-off campaigns, three visits to Wembley Stadium, one trip to Old Trafford, an FA Trophy final, and cup matches against the likes of Queens Park Rangers, Birmingham City and Tottenham Hotspur.  Talk about drama, it's never a dull moment at Plainmoor - in fact, in 16 seasons of support, the club has either been fighting for promotion, or battling against relegation, in eleven of them.  Unfortunately, this season we are engulfed in another titanic struggle to save our League status, so preciously won back on a glorious afternoon at Wembley five years' ago.  Off the back of a miserable first half of the campaign, gaffer Alan Knill paid with his job, and we now all have our eyes glued to the merry-go-round to see who's next to take the reins.  Whoever it is, they'll have a fight on their hands.

Torquay's new manager

So, who are all the people that have been in charge at the club since I started following?  Well there was Kevin Hodges (1996-98, dropped us like a stone when Plymouth Argyle came knocking on his door), Wes Saunders (1998-2001), Colin Lee (originally brought in to advise Saunders, then took over as caretaker in 2001 but rejected the job full time), Roy McFarland (2001-2002, who left after he was told there was no money to employ his assistant), Leroy Rosenior (2002-2006, and then again in 2007, but lasted less than a day, because a consortium bought the club hours after his appointment and relieved him of his duties), John Cornforth (2006), Ian Atkins (2006), Lubos Kubik (2006-2007, who we had never heard of and who turned out to be particularly hopeless), Keith Curle (2007), Paul Buckle (2007-2011, took over following Rosenior's stunted second spell), Martin Ling (2011-2013) and Alan Knill (2013-2014).  What a repertoire!  

Managers, managers, managers

Incidentally, in all the time of chopping-and-changing at our beleaguered little club, Arsenal have had only one manager, suggesting that perhaps, after all, a little stability is the key to success in the footballing world.  So Arsene, if you're reading this and fancy a fresh challenge, there's a club on the bay that might just have your name on it... 

Well, I think this smile says it all.

Does he fancy the challenge?

The Yellows and Blues of the English Riviera

The loveliest weather of the year so far drew us to the coast on Saturday for a dose of sea, sun, sand and soccer. Stopping en route to pick up some cheese and onion rolls and cream cakes, we took our picnic to a cliff edge near Ilsham Marine Drive, one of Torquay's most exclusive postcodes, to a high point that overlooks Thatcher Rock. We were more-or-less alone, save for a holidaying couple from the Midlands who asked us to take a photo, and there is no better place to be on a sunny day than overlooking the blue sea with a lovely lady (pictured, shortly before tucking into said cream cake!) The coastline here is dotted with little coves and beaches, a perfect haunt for pirates and smugglers or, on a day like this, kayakers. I also picked my favourite house in the area, complete with amazing sea views and impossible-to-mow lawn.

A little further around the coast, the downs of Babbacombe are an ideal place to while away an hour before heading to the football. On a very clear day you can see as far as Portland, Dorset, but the weather being hazy, we couldn't even see Exmouth. I always think the view down to Oddicombe Beach is rather pleasant, and the whirring of the cliff railway was a reminder that the Westcountry's holiday season is beginning once again. I don't quite know why, but there's something about this beach that is always reminiscent of the Jaws movies to me; maybe it's that so many people use it to launch pleasure crafts, or perhaps it's the azure sea, but I fancy I could see a sharp dorsal fin making its way to the beach.

Torquay's League 2 football team, Torquay United, play just a stone's throw from Babbacombe at Plainmoor ground. Plainmoor has its own unique history, and has certainly seen its share of ups and downs through the years, but at the moment it is buzzing; Torquay are second in the league and the ground is getting a new grandstand. Perhaps this accounted for the lively atmosphere come kick off, and with a generous amount of support from the visitors, Port Vale, the ground was mostly full. Torquay - the Gulls - went in 1-0 down at half time, but recovered brilliantly to win the match 2-1.

Feeling we didn't quite want to finish our day, we jumped in the car and drove down the hill to Meadfoot Beach. Meadfoot is a special place for Lizzie and I; we often enjoy a stroll along the sea there, and last year we stayed in the fabulous Osbourne Hotel, on the sea front. I much prefer it to many of the other beaches in the bay because it is quieter, and feels altogether more natural. Unfortunately the tide was in, so our stroll was restricted to the pavement behind the sea wall, but hand-in-hand, fresh sea breeze blowing in our faces, it was the perfect way to end a very lovely day.