As readers of my blog – and lucky recipients of my occasional Tweets – will know, I’ve always been fond of a bit of music. I can listen to any good (in my opinion) stuff from the 1960s right up until the present day, and pride myself on a mind open to anything that I consider to be creative or original, even if I wouldn’t necessarily ‘buy’ it. Pop, Underground, Prog, Punk, Ska, Eighties, Britpop, Indie, even a bit of country (not much though!), plus a lot of the new bands around today, although you don’t often hear them on radio airwaves which are generally packed to the gunnels with ‘allsoundsthesame’ rap plus anything uttered by the Ginger Busker…..
But there is one thing that has always puzzled me. Exactly what does that bloke waving the baton in front of an orchestra actually achieve?
Surely those musicians are professional enough to know when it’s their turn to play, and exactly how loud to play it? Do they need to be nursemaided into performing at their best, in fear that they may go off in a sulk, thus sabotaging the efforts of all those around them?
I suppose you could say the same thing about football managers. It can be a thankless task, as I discovered back in the day when I – my playing days over and my trophy cabinet buckling under the weight of the single award I got from being part of a Leicester 74 League Division 3 Championship winning squad – took up the challenge of running our club’s reserve side. Devoid of any response to my well-devised tactics, I quickly realised that shouting at the players was the best option. It didn’t improve the standard of performance, but at least I felt a darn sight better having being able to yell at them a bit.
Of course football management can be easy, as evidenced by one B. Clough who would simply tell his sides to go out and enjoy themselves and score more goals than the other team, which for several seasons they duly did. Maybe I should have adopted that approach with Europa Reserves!
Back to the music, and with tickets for a gig at the O2 Institute in Brum tonight to see Oh Wonder (we’ll be the oldest swingers in town, as usual) I meet up with the Aussie, who is out on parole after recovering from a marital ear-bashing following one-too-many footballing weekends away. We satisfy his usual pre-match appetite for Wetherspoons pubs, as well as taking in a pint of the exceptional 6.0%abv Sarah Hughes Ruby Mild at the nearby Beacon Hotel, Sedgeley by way of diversion, before arriving at the splendid Queen Street stadium of Step 6 club Bilston Town Community, of the West Midlands (Regional) League Premier Division.
We’re quickly identified as ‘hoppers’ by the orange-bedecked gentlemen gathered around the gate, and after much polite conversation of a footballing nature, we are offered the sanctuary of the Board Room at half time, to enjoy the club’s hospitality (the chip butties on granary bread a positive boon on this Autumn afternoon!). The stadium itself boasts an imposing main stand of some stature, plus a small area of covered terracing behind one goal. Probably the most noticeable thing about this venue, however, is the array of industrial-strength pillars and netting surrounding almost half of the ground, which I discover was erected to prevent the more robust of clearances from bouncing off vehicles using the busy Black Country Way which now runs alongside the ground. This structure can be best appreciated from the road itself.
Having arrived close to kick off, and with no need of the clubhouse at half time (for reasons already outlined) I neglect my remit of investigating good beer and veggie food options, for which I can only claim mitigating circumstances. Besides, after the Sarah Hughes Ruby, who would want any other beer?
The games today is between the home team, decked out in all-orange, and visiting Dudley Sports, playing in all-green – curiously, the same colours as the home keeper, though the referee doesn’t seem to mind. With both teams having shown inconsistent form thus far this season, it’s a tough one to call, yet Bilston show the greater endeavour and by the early part of the second half are three goals to the good, much to the consternation of the Dudley Sports manager whose particularly audible vocal offerings are littered with expletives. These eventually catch the attention of the referee who explains, in no uncertain terms, that one more of same will lead to the manager’s expulsion to the stand. His instant response is yet another expletive, and so he’s asked to take the long walk.
Within minutes he’s back out of the dressing rooms with his kitbag, jumps into his car after opening the car park gate, and is off down the street. Cue much incredulity all round. Now we seen it all!
In the absence of their guiding spirit, the Dudley players take the game to their possibly complacent hosts, and quickly have it pegged back to 3-2, so at last we have a contest on our hands. Sadly for the visitors, there isn’t time to complete the comeback. So is it purely coincidental that the team has performed with more purpose without their manager in the ground then when he was there, bawling and hollering. And could that be proof enough that participants probably don’t really need anybody to stand there, trying to orchestrate the show?
Or maybe he just simply felt that shouting might do the trick!
Programme: Available on entry. Impressive for this level. Glossy cover and paper with plenty of reading matter. It covers two games but that doesn’t detract from the offering.
Floodlights: 4 posts on one side, 3 posts and a stand roof cluster on the other.
Birdlife: Not much, the decoy on the post (see picture) doing his job
Toilets: In the clubhouse adjacent to the stand.
Club Shop: There may have been one but I wasn’t nearly observant enough!
Music the players emerge to: Little Mix, but that might have just been the track playing at the time