Willand Vs Wellington
Growing up on the mean streets of South Warwickshire in the 1970s two things were true: sport was something you played outside rather than watched on a screen, and you only had one choice of team to support.
It’s important to understand that Warwickshire was a geographical anomaly in terms of sporting teams; the county is one of only seven in England (if you happen to count the City of London and Isle of Wight as such) that does not host a professional football club.
So which team is it that we were somehow forced to support, I hopefully hear someone ask?
Not technically part of the West Midlands, we chose to disassociate ourselves with those cities and municipalities to the north. We have nothing in common with Brummies, or Yam Yams; we’re Shakespeare’s county after all, which discounted Birmingham, Aston Villa and any other team that shares the night sky of the second city.
To the east lay Coventry, once part of the county but transferred out in the early 1970s, a premonition perhaps of what happened to the football club when it was forced to leave Highfield Road several decades later. By the time they had achieved anything in 1987, affiliations had been forged and no amount of Sky Blue was going to break them.
And to the west, Worcestershire, ceremonial home of the asparagus and perennial gateway to nothing much, certainly not a football team that we could call our own.
This isn’t to say that people didn’t support football teams. On any given day you could observe blue and white, or claret and blue, or, more likely, differing shades of red and white, adorning cheap polyester scarfs.
But these were choices. Bad choices in a lot of cases, made of youthful exuberance and Match of the Day highlights, but choices nonetheless.
But we all had another team that we followed. Warwickshire County Cricket Club. Ironically enough, not based in Warwickshire.
It seems counterintuitive today, but cricket completely dominated football in television hours and accessibility during this era, for one fundamental reason: the Football League’s strict anti-live broadcast policy. Terrified that live televised matches would deplete stadium gate receipts, football chairmen banned broadcasters from showing live league games. While football fans had to survive on mere snippets of recorded weekend highlights, cricket offered free, live, ball-by-ball coverage for six or seven hours a day. The BBC’s cricket broadcast essentially functioned as the background soundtrack to British summer life, making iconic cricketers household names and rendering live cricket far more accessible to the stay-at-home public than domestic league football.
The visual presentation was distinct: static, high-angle cameras positioned behind the bowler’s arm, a simple manual scoreboard graphic superimposed in the corner of the screen, and the unmistakable, soothing cadence of legendary commentators like Richie Benaud guiding viewers through long, sun-drenched afternoons.
The zenith of this television era arrived in the unforgettable summer of 1981, when Ian Botham staged a staggering, near-miraculous comeback against Australia. Millions of households sat transfixed in front of their TV screens during the Third Test at Headingley, watching “Beefy” smash an unbeaten 149 to reverse odds of 500-1 and secure an impossible victory. The sheer drama of Botham’s heroic hitting and Bob Willis’s ferocious bowling spell was beamed live into British living rooms, capturing the imagination of the nation and cementing cricket as the defining televised soap opera of the summer.
And Bob Willis was a Warwickshire man. Goose was followed over the years by Brian Lara, Ashley Giles, Ian Bell and a plethora of names that are household, so long as your house worships at the altar of Edgbaston.
Cricket has of course changed over the last decade. Twenty20 made it more accessible to the masses before The Hundred crossed the barrier where fans and money intersect, pushing the game in a direction that Gianni Infantino would be proud of.
But for those summers of my youth, the memories of Allan Donald steaming in with the sound down and the radio on will live longer than any of it.
This is an odd start to a football season, especially one that kicks off with an FA Cup game, but long-time readers will know that the journey is usually worth the destination. New readers may take a few games to get used to it.
Cricket has been on my mind simply because of Willand’s opponents for the opening fixture, Wellington Town. The Playing Field is one of my regular stops during the season, and remains the only ground I’ve been to where the game was abandoned because the floodlight caught fire (still waiting for my refund on that one). A cosy corner ground where the admission fee is akin to an honesty box, the side of the pitch forming part of a path that leads non-footballing residents across town. I’m always amazed at the job the club seems to do with so little.
One of the challenges, at least before this season, that faced Wellington was that the ground was shared with a local cricket team whose end-of-season activities took precedence over Western League concerns, meaning that for the first handful of games Wellington were inevitably away from home, meaning that fast starts were as rare as floodlight fires (refund anyone?)
This season has seen other matters supersede the geographic limitations of the ground, though, and have left the Tangerines in an unenviable position. Last season’s manager and team have all departed, with the exception of Willand alumni Josh Baker, and the manager brought in to see the new season left after a few weeks in what can only be described as a puff of wind, leaving chairman Mike Hall to lead the team as he simultaneously searched for his own replacement.
This unfortunate set of circumstances meant that the visitors arrived at Silver Street with no wins in the league and having suffered a 10-1 bruising at the hands of Buckland Athletic midweek. They were also without talisman and captain Josh Baker.
As for Willand Rovers, despite the last minute reprise that saw us maintain our Southern League spot, the new season saw a number of stalwarts leave the club as we bid farewell to Ryan Guppy, Josh Searle and Ashton Hewlett. At the start of his first full season manager Ben Watson strengthened his squad with a number of players that I’m sure we’ll all become familiar with in short order, the standouts being the return of Adam Seedhouse-Evans in goal and the acquisition of attacking threats Zack Williams and Sol Ayunga from Sidmouth and Bridport respectively.
Given the different off seasons that both teams have enjoyed and endured, perhaps it’s no surprise which way this one went. There’s no point talking about the goals or I’d spend the next hundred lines just listing players’ names. Suffice to say those who played and came on for Willand enjoyed the afternoon, with Zack Williams marking his debut with a brace, Bailey Kempster helping himself to a hat-trick, and Harvey Dorothy grabbing two of his own for good measure. It was a workout for Willand, but as noted by the manager after the game, you can only beat what’s in front of you.
As for Wellington, they were outclassed, outperformed and beaten well, but to their credit heads never dropped and they never stopped giving 100%.
While I wish both teams well, I can’t help but think that they have started on very different trajectories.
For Willand, next up is a trip to Falmouth to open the league season, and the first of many tests that we will face across another season of hope, despair, and everything in between.
I would be remiss not to mention the dedicated grounds team at this point as well. In a time where we are facing a drought, a hosepipe ban and our fifth heat wave, the work of Tacker, Hedley and Andy to keep the Silver Street pitch as pristine as it is could be described as nothing short as a reyt good job.
It was nothing short of a Test Match wicket out there.
