08/04 – we’re now into what is known in ground-hopping circles as “the silly season” – that time, after the clocks go forward, when every minor club without floodlights is frantically playing as many matches mid-week as they can schedule, catching up on all those previously-postponed games from the winter months. Most Leagues want things wrapped up by the end of April, but I can already see some fixtures are being scheduled into May …
Two midweek games for the Ostrich, therefore, firstly a rather nondescript 1-1 draw between Gillingham Town and Shepton Mallet in the Western League on Tuesday night, then an altogether more pulsating affair on Wednesday when Wincanton Town Reserves drew 4-4 with Shaftesbury Town Reserves in the Dorset Football League Senior Division, the game featuring four second-half goals in an eight minute spell. This latter game was advertised as a 6:30 kick-off; I assumed that the Winkies had chosen to make good use of the lengthening evening light and not fire up the Incredibly Noisy Scary Generator
which powers their floodlights (I hate walking past it as it always seems to be on the verge of a cataclysmic explosion), but when I arrived, I found they’d decided to move the start to 7:30 and use said floodlights nevertheless. This meant I had over an hour to kill before the start; the Wincanton Sports Centre bar was firmly closed, and all I could do for entertainment was wrestle with a vending machine in the foyer for a tub of raisins and peanuts (50p). Cheap evening, however!
So to today, a glorious day as others have remarked on the Saturday thread; a heat haze visible from the top of Cranborne Chase and the fields of what I originally thought were spring greens maturing either side of the road have now flowered yellow and will presumably be a rapeseed crop. No road-runners or cyclists to contend with, but I did have to swerve madly once to avoid a wayward pheasant! Parked up in the Mick Loader Recreation Ground and wandered back down into Cranborne village; there’s a post office and general stores where I bought Easter cards and resisted the temptation of a large bag of peanut butter coated Kit-Kat chunks
. Opposite is a rather posh-looking restaurant and next door the rather more homely “Sheaf of Arrows”, where Mrs O and I had a nice, if basic, lunch a couple of months back. The church was quiet (well, except for the cleaning team hovering
) and the tombs went back to at least 1652.
The Ostrich was rather startled to see the Cranborne club crest apparently featuring a football being booted by an ostrich
! On closer examination, this turned out to be a crane
(the team are nicknamed “The Cranes”) and to complete a trio of long-legged birds, the road into a small close of housing just behind the ground was called Friday’s Heron.
That left me musing. What possibly could Friday’s Heron have done to be awarded such an accolade as having a street named after it? How did Tuesday’s Heron feel about being snubbed – was it cheesed off, narked, writing letters of complaint to the local council and the RSPB??
Sitting outside the clubhouse on a patio bench, I was warmly greeted by a bright, power-suited, pony-tailed 20-something who then promptly marched into the changing rooms. Ah yes, Linda Lindskog, today’s referee; I’ve seen her in action before and she’s very competent. In the bar, I learnt that Cranborne FC, who only amassed 3 league points last season but have reached the dizzy heights of 7 league points this season, will definitely be taking relegation this year (they were reprieved last year). It seems they have a reasonable bunch of players, but there’s something a bit lacking in overall commitment and they have anything but a settled team. Their opponents, Dorchester Sports, were comfortably positioned 7th in the table.
After a torrid first 9 minutes, culminating in a Dorchester striker shooting straight at the home keeper and the resulting rebound then cannoning off a defender, I wrote in my notes “it’s only a matter of time ….” before Dorchester score. Cranborne immediately went down the other end and netted!
The linesman and I concurred the cross had been flicked on past the Dorchester keeper, but we weren’t sure if it was a Cranborne player or a Dorchester defender who got the final touch. Five minutes later, and Cranborne went 2-0 up! A long ball down the middle, the Dorchester defenders and goalie left it to each other to deal with, a Cranborne player nipped round the side and gathered the ball completely unchallenged, and after a moment’s dithering, stuck it in the net.
Could this be only Cranborne’s third win of the season?
Well, no. Dorchester Sports then scored 11 goals without reply
….. it was 2-4 at half-time and by midway through the second half, the home team had simply given up. Dorchester Sports kept it simple, and at the end of the day, it was a bit like shooting fish in a barrel, as the saying goes.
A tricky return journey, the road to Shaftesbury having been closed by the police just before Tollard Royal, necessitating a seven-mile un-signposted “diversion”, exploring parts of Dorset I didn’t know existed – indeed, parts of Dorset that I don’t think even Dorset knows existed! Straggly unsheared sheep, single-track roads with passing places, deep woodland valleys, and flocks of pheasants that apparently had never even heard an internal combustion engine before (and helpfully stood in the road to observe the strange phenomenon). I eventually emerged from the countryside closer to Blandford than Shaftesbury, but once I’d got myself re-orientated, a straightforward drive home.
Dorset Premier League (Step 7): Cranborne 2 Dorchester Sports 11
No admission or programme, J2O and packet of Pombears * £2.50 from the clubhouse, attendance 30.
* Cheese and onion flavoured potato snacks, Ally, bit like Quavers!