Ground #156: Aggborough, Kidderminster Harriers.

14/03/2015

Kidderminster Harriers 0-2 Dover Athletic

Murphy (7', 79')

Att: 1,484 (57 away)

Admission: £14

"The food at Aggborough is without doubt the best food in English football" claims just about every chap or chapess who has ever visited Kidderminster for an away game. The supposed culinary excellence has become so synonymous with the club that they are far more notable for topping the BBC 'price of football' yearly survey for selling the most expensive pies in the whole of English football, rather than for anything the club produces on the field. These lazy beeb hacks rarely offer a mitigating explanation of the actual scale of the product that justifies a steep cost. 

So attesting to see whether the vast hype of the grub would live up to its billing was one of the main agendas to anticipate another new away day. And truth be told when we were promoted to this level last May and the shiny door of glamour, hope and opportunity had opened to us, Kidderminster was an away day I was looking forward to just as much as any of the big ex-league clubs that populate this division. To me, Harriers are one of the biggest and most household names on the non-league circuit, one of the many who instantly spring to mind when you think of the GM Vauxhall Conference, along with other such stalwarts like Telford, Woking, Northwich Victoria, Runcorn, Stafford Rangers and York City. Indeed; the Worcestershire club were our opponents for our inaugural fixture at a national level, back in 1993, when we comfortably saw them off by three goals to their one on a bright, sunny August afternoon at The Crabble. 

The intervening couple of decades have conjured up somewhat contrasting fortunes for the two clubs. While a Jan Molby led Kiddy side eventually earned promotion to the football league, spending six seasons there before falling back to their natural level, we endured a rapid decay after our eight seasons in the conference top flight, descending all the way down to the fourth tier of the pyramid amid financial chaos, before our slow and eventual return to the non league summit last year. 

I was warned that the mystique of Kidderminster's reputation as a proper away day was perhaps not so warranted in terms of the quality of its pubs. Thankfully though my carefully thoughtful meticulous planning ensured otherwise; three out of the four pubs we visited were excellent, while even the oddity in the chain pub provided a lovely IPA beer. 

Carefully constructed away day map. Admirable meticulousness or just sheer sad scale of prematurely middle ageing? 

The excellent station pub, the King & Castle, set the tone for what would be another flurry of drunken away day frolics for our dozen-strong train army gaggle of society's biggest misfits and rejects. It came highly acclaimed for it's traditional setting, train industry memorabilia and most importantly, excellent cask beer. This, according to the CAMRA style nutcases on reviews online, is largely due to the presence of the mystical Batham's Best Bitter; a beer that is only in circulation at a dozen pubs around the Midlands and is scarcely available to purchase anywhere else. 

I'd stumbled across a few online blogs specifically regarding this beer, attempting to explain it's supposedly unexplainable magnificence, backed up by a flurry of accompanying comments confirming its brilliance from fellow bearded, flat cap-wearing oddballs.. Thus I was very eager to see if this was worthy of such an appraisal, while trying to cast aside the expectations and pre perception when doing so. 

I expected to come away with my supposed deliberately contrarian and anti-establishment views but this would be anything but the case. Quite simply it is the best beer I have ever had. It's unbelievable. I seldom ever stick to drinking the same beer as I am a variation kind of guy, but I made an exception here. I consumed three pints across my two visits to the pub, buying a further few bottles for the journey home. I wish I had bought a whole case worth. It has an unexplainable real quaffable value to it, a perfect session beer at a 4.3% ABV, a real balanced and smooth effort with a wow value to it that is just quite hard to articulate. It's a beer that I reckon even the most ardent of lager fairies would enjoy and appreciate.

The holy grail of beers.

So regardless of what would happy over the course of the rest of the day, 14/03/2015 would be a successful, noteworthy date. The day I discovered the best beer in the world. Forget your fancy chocolate porters, your hop heavy American pale ales, your Belgian saisons or Bavarian pilseners, the best beer turns out to be a simplistic effort in the heart of the British midlands. 

The Weavers, just up the road, provided more excellent offerings in the form of 6 rotating cask ales. Going into the centre, The Swan offered a decent what I'd call a transitional pint, breaking up the journey from the further on Ye Olde Seven stars, another fine proper boozer (if somewhat dingy) and a delicious offering in Titanic Stout, a real delight. And then of course cabs to the ground at 2:35pm, 

allowing a window of time to test out some of these infamous Aggborough delicacies prior to kick off. 

Here is my view of the Aggborough food: by the standards of the bland, rubbery, substandard and stale standards set by the vast majority of UK football grounds, the food is excellent. I plumped for the flagship cottage pie, which while perhaps a tad overpriced at £4.50, was a thoroughly tasty effort. The mince was succulent, the gravy was richened enough, there was a healthy dosage of pepper and the mash was of a fluffy consistency while providing a crispness on top. Absolutely no complaints about it. 

However, you can't help but feel its qualities are a tad overstated. While it has that homemade factor so absent from most grub offerings at football grounds, I think its reputation is more built on the complete lack of competition rather than anything else. As I say, don't get me wrong, I bloody enjoyed it. I think the chilli con carne on nachos with cheese, uniquely found at Lowestoft Town FC on our FA Trophy excursion back in December, was my favourite foodie experience this season. 

Either way though these clubs deserve a congratulatory pat on the back for their bolder and idiosyncratic approach to providing food and extending beyond the world of poor quality hotdogs and burgers, and chain brand pies. The 57 Dover fans situated in the away end certainly ate their weight in gold; my skinny-as-a-rake younger brother gobbled up three separate meals; the lasagne and cheese pie, in addition to the cottage. I wish other clubs would make more of an effort in boosting the match day experience a bit by exploiting football fans' adoration for hearty food. It can't be too much of an effort to knock up a bulk serving of a simple chicken or beef curry with basmati rice, can it? 

I've already rabbeted on so much here regarding food and drink that I've almost forgot to inform you that a football match occurred at either side of the days vast indulgences. With us all but safe from relegation, and the hosts play-off hopes having been eroded over recent weeks after a sequence of seven games without a win, this game would certainly have an element of 'end of season dead rubber' feel to it, synchronized by the lack of fervour and real enthusiasm in all areas of the ground. 

We're in real bad form ourselves at the minute, having not won in any of our last six matches, a collapse initiated after Tom Bonner was illegally tapped up under the noses of Jamie Day and his blank chequebook lured by the sheer delights that Gravesend & Northfleet is famous for. Our defence has been leaking in goals galore hereafter; courtesy of shocking individual errors and an exploitation of just how slow and incoherent they are without the presence of the Cambridge United loanee. 

So something would have to give here. Kidderminster fans would have been left hoping that assistant manager Mark Creighton's public hammering and denunciation of his players' moral fibre and fight would spring some life and spark some fire in the belly of his troops.

Wrong. If anything, it had an adverse affect. Harriers barely mustered up any threat in what truth was a poor game of football, settled by a brace from this season's surprise revelation Thomas Murphy. 

His first arrived during the game's infancy. Latching onto a lofted ball from Stefan Payne, fresh from signing a new contract during the week, he lifted the ball over onrushing number one Daniel Lewis, left him floundering in no-mans land before tapping the ball into the unguarded net. 

Questionable goalkeeping, certainly a preventable goal from their point of view. The game settler, however, eleven minutes from time, was a finish of undisputable quality that they could have little stance other than to join the away fans in admiring its finesse. Shifting the advances of defender Josh Gowling, he proceeded to dink a perfectly weighted lob from 20 yards out, providing the perfect trajectory to keep it out of the goalkeeper's reach and just enough to dip into the net. A lovely goal. 

Tom Murphy has really evolved into some player this season. I have been brutally critical of him in the past, mainly on the basis of last season's incredibly inconsistent performances, where moments of brilliance would be overridden by woeful crossing, a greedy tendency to cut in and shoot, or when actually deciding to pass would do so at completely the wrong moments. Since worming his way back into the starting XI after his last minute mentaller at the Memorial Ground in October he has been nothing short of a miracle. He scores great goals, actually provides worthy crosses, links up intelligently with his team mates, causes no end of problems by roaming from out wide to providing directness through the centre. This is all added to his unquestionable work rate and ethic. 

At first I was unhappy CK brought him back into the side and the cynical horrible bastard in me still expects him to start creeping the negative aspects of his game from last season. His reinstatement in the starting eleven was unpopular because it meant CK could sacrifice the unique talents of the extremely skillful but brittle fan favourite Christian Nanetti, in what seemed a move of replacing flair with more workmanship. But the decision has been complete vindicated; Tom Murphy has provided both of those aspects for us and continues to excel with every passing game. I can't believe I am here typing to stress the importance of now tying him to a new deal. 

Kidderminster did have their share of chances but they were met by a resilient, dogged and determined Dover team, able to grind out the a much needed and more crucially and significantly, garnering a clean sheet whence doing so. 

While the three points were exactly what the doctor ordered, finally breathing the cushion of safety after breaking the half century point barrier, it was equally quite sad to see our opponents play with such little vigour or enthusiasm. Just two seasons ago Steve Burr led them to near promotion to the Football League, narrowly being overhauled by the more irksome and abhorrent Mansfield Town in a title race that went down to the wire. It's been downhill for them since then, Burr replaced after failing to replicate the previous season's heights last year, while this season will see them finish in mid-table again with rumours circulating of pressing financial issues. 

I hope they recover soon, as my views of KHFC across the day left me with a favourable one of both the club and town. At £14 for terracing admission, it is the cheapest matchday in this league, for what is an excellent non-league venue. Two mirroring terraces behind each goals. with two smart seated stands extending down the sides. The aforementioned food is obviously fun and exciting. The locals we encountered seemed friendly and welcoming, while the stewards were non-intervening, somewhat of a rarity these days.

Amidst the drunken and victorious chaos however, the day ended on less than a high note. Southeastern railway, having heavily disrupted my journey without notifying me of their planned engineering works and changes to schedules (despite having paid for advance fares with specific reservations to make specific virgin trains to and from Birmingham New Street) which left me in a state of confusion coming home. Since the new year the route usually embarks a full loop from St Pancras to St Pancras, so I assumed that my train I was on would be heading all the way down to Faversham and thus stopping at Herne Bay, where I live. 

Wrong. It only went as far as Ramsgate, leaving me 22 miles from home with no money to pay for a taxi, unable to contact my family members and facing a freezing cold evening stuck out in the wilderness. After a huge state of panic, unable to negotiate a deal with a taxi driver, I just opted to fall asleep in a field somewhere in the middle of nowhere. So my evening was not quite the embodiment of comfort and warmth to say the least! Fortunately my Dover flags aided my unwanted cause, providing me with a handsome duvet from the shivering cold.

Once my panic subsided I did eventually see the funny side and burst out laughing at the predicament I had managed to get myself into. It was cold and unpleasurable, but I did gain a bit of perspective from such an uncomfortable evening. At least I had a home and a family to go back to once the first train out of Ramsgate finally arrived. My unexpected experience as living life like the homeless has solidified and strengthened my respect and sympathy for those who have to permanently live in such conditions. But talk is just talk. Time to start helping. 

Wanky ultra morons etc.

More flags than fans etc.