ITS RAIN (HAM) MEN

 

Printed in the National League South game v Hemel Hempstead Saturday 7th September 2024  We finally lost at home after a year. 1-0 in front of 1203

                                           photo by TJRimages 

If there was one game not to miss it was last Saturdays momentous one against Weymouth where the Rebels secured victory and with it a year without losing at home.

Yet miss it I did as I was seriously geographically challenged in Wales at a place where the most common cause of death is a book falling on your head.

I studied the timetables and pondered the logistics but really this was too far to get to Slough and back without anyone noticing. I bought the local papers for some county league action but even those footballing gods were against me. I had no choice, I jumped on the rural bus Express hurtling through villages like Clehonger and Nantyglasdwr all the way to Hereford. Then on a Paddington train and headed to the hills. Should I fall asleep and explain to my missus that I didn’t wake up till Reading?

I alighted at the most scenic train station in the country. If you’re looking to make a period drama I’ve found the place. Malvern Town v Cleethorpes Town in the FA Cup 1st Qualifying round. I couldn’t find a pub but I did find a tree full of ripe figs and a box of cooking apples at a bus stop urging me to take them home. Normally I would oblige and they would end up as crumble at our pubs seniors lunch club but I was already weighed down with the sadness of missing the Slough game.

The last time I was near these parts was the Castlemorton Free Festival but best to keep that quiet. So I bought a programme and admired the one developed side of their ground with smart new stand and clubhouse with each table emblazoned with their badge. The only thing missing was showing the football rather than endless TVs of cricket.

As Malvern missed a host of chances and we headed towards a replay, I wondered how this round trip of 7 hours for part time players on a Tuesday night was ok but in the proper rounds of the FA Cup (like this one was somehow improper) have been abolished. Then I read that the League Cup has been seeded and really with my Brighton season ticket now binned, the Premier League and its narcissistic self obsession could do one.

A decent crowd of 391 saw Cleethorpes mount a last minute smash and grab winner. I then had to muster all my restraint not to hit the bin next to me in joy as news that the Rebels had achieved something special. And top of the league to boot. This was all tempered by finding out that the last bus to Hay on Wye had left at 6pm so an expensive taxi it was back to Wales.

It might be geographical bias but I often want clubs that are a pain to get too relegated or promoted. Or are just plain rude (Here’s looking at you Waterloogedville). Aveley we’re certainly on this list – too many train changes then a taxi from Rainham to the middle of nowhere.

Rainham is a funny old place. As you come out of the station with its dominating church, you can imagine what it looked like as a village but now surrounded by boarded up pubs, chicken shops and tiny new builds.

We were drinking in a not particularly nice boozer when Spreadsheet Stu came up with a plan to circumvent this cultural desert – where even the war memorial had a boarded up window and the football club has long gone. We walked along the High Street until we came to a forlorn sign announcing the Cauliflower. That’s a pub I could get my teeth into but sadly all that was left was the sign and it was now a curry house.

We approached the seafood stall and asked if we could get into Rainham Working Mens Club. In a flash it was sorted. ‘We don’t get no trouble or drug dealing in here, the regulars would sort them out’ we were told as we signed in. Looking around I didn’t doubt it. We were then given tours by proud members. The place was cavernous with two massive bars, snooker hall, pub garden, and a football pitch for two of the clubs teams. Maybe a phoenix Rainham Town could play here?

This place like so many across the country acts as a fixed point in a sea of change. Where people feel comfortable and safe. Feel in control and listened too. I hope they prosper and encourage new people, cos these are the community spaces that make such a massive difference. And I know I bang on like the pub bore, but if we keep heading to Wetherspoons then these places will become fewer and fewer.

Now stewards are often my nemesis, especially those that have developed a love for something you put rubbish in, taking it as a personal affront when you use it temporarily as a musical instrument. Haven’t they heard of the band Stomp? Or getting a life? Not at Aveley. Last years friendly steward John was there to greet us, shaking hands with everyone and telling us we were his favourite fans as he wheeled the biggest bin ever for us to hit. It only seemed right to buy him and his lad a drink. We won comfortably and headed to the top of the league. Blimey. What a difference a year makes.

I’ve crossed Aveley off my want-to-be-relegated list. Thankfully Eastbourne Borough and Worthing are just around the corner. And I’ve enjoyed watching travelling Rebels struggle how to get to see-you-in-an-hour Chichester. Even a geographically challenged doughnut like me couldn’t miss these ones.

And finally….if a photo sums our club up was the one at the end of the Weymouth game with players and everyone behind the goal. I might superimpose myself in. We’ve got something very special going on that so many people have worked hard to make happen. I salute you all.