The Kimchi Chronicles: Ground #155: The Recreation Ground, Aldershot.

Aldershot Town 3-1 Dover Athletic

Stevenson ('53, '68), McCollin ('85) | Francis ('76)

03/03/2015

Att: 1,154 (70 away)

Admission: £17

Even with my own admission that I'm a shit fan these days I still have somehow managed to not miss a league away game this season. That's not an idle boast of some sorts, rather a symbol of having too much disposable income, too much time on my hands and being too much of a sad bastard, rather than reflection of my fandom these days. More specifically, it highlights my expeditionist nature.

A test to continuing this inconsequential record is as ever, Tuesday night games. Given I have to be up at 4am for work every morning, and specifically a twelve hour shift on this following Wednesday, travelling to Aldershot for what would essentially be a dead rubber for us would be a test to my sanity. Sleep deprivation is a worthy side-effect if it means getting to take in a new ground, however, so destination Hampshire it was. Our only previous Tuesday night away outing this season was at Nuneaton, a game which coincidentally preceded the first (and hopefully last) time I have overslept for work. I only turned up for my shift three hours late.

For the on-field value, this would prove be a complete waste of time. Quite simply we've just completely been unprogrammed in all aspects of knowing how to defend in our nosedive in form these past half-dozen games. Their two goals after the interval, following a dreary first half, were two completely unchallenged, unmarked headers. Both supremely well-taken I'll admit, but the fact that we have three 6ft+ centre halves on the field completely AWOL to the danger highlights just how slow and incoherent they are since the departure of key organiser Tom Bonner.

We pulled one back when one of our aforementioned centre halves proved better effective in the opponents box, Sean Francis seeing his shot squirm past Aldershot's Phil Smith after Stefan Payne did excellently to play the ball into his path.

As we threatened for an equaliser we decided to throw in the towel at any chances of a comeback. Long punt upfield, no danger on, Sean Raggett with a 2 metre head start to avert the danger, casually slows down, misjudges, gets beaten by the advancing McCollin who duly pokes past the helpless Rafferty to kill the game off. Pathetic.

Needless to say I didn't like our defending. What I did like though was the Recreational Ground. A proper old school ground, a creaking, decimating shithole that looks like it hasn't seen a fresh lick of paint since the days when Shirley Bassey was regularly in the charts. As my friend Russell said to me "character in football terms always equates to being a rundown shithole" and he's right. But that's the sort of thing you need at this awful level of football. All four sides are covered, and the design of the roofs provided make for fantastic acoustics. Even us small brigade of mongs managed to hear our efforts echo around a bit.

It's just the tiny, unused, temporary-looking stand behind the other goal which is a bit of an eye-sore. Previously it has just been a blank end, however they had to squeeze it in there to bring their ground up to the necessary amount of seats required for football league level. As far I'm aware they never even open it.

We were segregated into a tiny corner of the seated side stand. This was rather nice and cosy, our scant following regarded with such little menace that we were even allowed to fraternize amongst some of the home support in entering the ground, while sharing bar and refreshment facilities. Saving costs, they couldn't be arsed to put us into the neighbouring terrace on the side and make us use the traditional away turnstile.

It's a shame that we weren't situated in the traditional away terrace, shared and split with home support. Aldershot are one of those rough as arsehole clubs that while not likeable, are the sort of ones you want to play, you want the danger of some of their notorious apes lobbing their dole shrapnel at your head. (This is the perception that other people have fed me, might not actually be FACTual).
They're going through a shit time of it since relegation from the football league though; serially underachieving this season after narrowly avoiding relegation last time out. Their crowds are just squeezing past the four figure mark at the moment, when traditionally they get around double that through the turnstiles.

They made a bit of noise which is unusual for home supporters in the lower divisions, especially a low-key nothing game like this against perceived tinpot shite like ourselves. Sadly, it was mainly the cringeworthy wannabe-Palace songs that do the rounds ("we all follow the shots, the shots, the shots" - which doesn't even fit the fucking necessary syllables") but fair play to them for having a go. The tedium of screeching "you're shit, ahhhhhhhhh" at every time our goalkeeper released the ball upfield got a bit too much, but I'm sure that was the intention. We all have cliquey in-jokes on the terraces at this level. Fuck knows what they would have made of "Chris Collings' Christian Army" if they managed to hear us trying to sing from our end. Or the "you're not as good as our Phil" to the opposition's number one.

Aldershot's Jayden Gibbs did manage to hear a few calls of "you're just a shit Kieran Gibbs" (his brother) from our section, acknowledging with a knowing smile, before promptly providing the pinpoint cross for the opening goal moments later. Karma.

Photos are of meagre quality. The excuses are as follows;