Ground Number 177 (49/92): Field Mill
Mansfield Town 1-1 Leyton Orient
Saturday 12th December
League Two
Attendance: 2,935 (444 away)
Admission: £13 (Under 21)
Says, another weekend, another ground ticked off.
With Dover in FA Trophy action this weekend, my desire for a
plum away tie in a mythical, scarcely known outpost hidden away in the Southern
Midlands/West area would obviously not come to fruition. Of course, we’d
instead have our standard mundane tie against a Conference South side.
Thus the weekend would provide the opportunity to increase
my great 92 tally from 48; though an uninspiring crop of fixtures would fall on
the alternative Saturday that I don’t have to work. A lunchtime kick-off at
Norwich City v Everton was thoroughly investigated, but although I’m not averse
to being thoroughly ripped off for football tickets, there was no way I was
parting with £45 for a restricted view seat (I disguised this as being adherent
to morals – though the reality is I’m an impulsive-spending student struggling
with my cashflow the end of a long term). It’s obscene though the price of
English football – as I’ve alluded to elsewhere – my three games in Germany
next weekend (@ Hamburg, St Pauli and Eintracht Braunschweig) have cost less
than that combined.
So the realistic best selection of a new destination from an
insipid bunch of fixtures narrowed it down to either Port Vale vs Scunthorpe or
Mansfield vs Leyton Orient. I opted for the latter, on the reasoning it would
be it less costly and that the visitors have two excellent former Dover players
in their ranks – Sammy Moore and Connor Essam – and are coached by a management
team comprising of two our former villainous managers as well. The close
proximity of the fixture would also sway a friend on my university course to
accompany me on my latest groundhopping-noncery adventure.
Having stumbled into my flat at 05:40 and awoken barely four
hours later, I wasn’t in the finest of conditions for this one, bearing the
multitude of severely drunken calamities occurring on the final night of term.
(If you want one embarrassing anecdote, I shat in bush while leaning over a
wall. There’s an image for you guys to think about while you’re trying to sleep
tonight).
An 11:48 train with my over-excitable friend had us arriving
in Mansfield at just past 13:30, later than expected thanks to the customary
East Midlands delay resulting in us missing our due connection. Thus I didn’t
have the chance to check out if the town had any decent hostelries among them.
All I will say is that from the small snapshot we had from the short walk from
the train station to the ground, it certainly seemed to resemble your
stereotypical bleak and grey, crumbling industrial, northern shithole.
Field Mill, however, not mitigating the revoltingly bitter
weather conditions, was by contrast rather pleasant. Their club bar,
unfortunately, despite being in a region crammed full of fabulous small
breweries, opts to only serve chemical factory Greene King’s muck as its ale
partner, leaving me to consume some generic carbonated ‘smooth bitter’. The
food options in the bar were more adventurous – I opted for the exotic ‘chef
special’: chicken fajita mix on a bed of chips. It was ok, but the portions
size was very scant for £4.50.
It’s essentially a three-sided ground these days – the
small, decaying stand on one pitchside remains intact but is bordered up and
only used for the TV gantry which is built on top of it. It looks really quirky
though and gives it a much needed sense of character. The rest of the ground
has very modernized smart stands, aesthetically pleasing in its unusual yellow
and navy blue colour coordination. The two-tiered main stand hosts the vast
majority of the home support with only four hundred or so, myself included,
opting to sit behind the goal. The visitors are situated in the goal behind the
other end, isolated away from the majority of the MTFC fanbase.
This made for a dire atmosphere. Well, that and the fact the
home supportership seemed to consist of apathetic middle-aged blokes needing to
venture out of their home to have a whinge and moan because their wives are no
longer putting out at home. I’d heard Mansfields’ reputation as being one of
the rough clubs with a bit of menace about them, but other than the fleeting
incoherent bark of “yellows, yellows”, the majority of the game they were
silent and had no real vocal section of the ground.
Orient, despite being backed by a reasonable following of
nearly 450, seldom ever offered much themselves. They really do seem to be
another stereotypically boring, if inoffensive, well-to-do London club with
little reason to get annoyed about one way or another. Despite the presence of
several nasty looking older fuckers in clobber congregating at Nottingham station,
they were incredibly tame.
The game itself was very befitting of the gruesome
conditions and very much reflected the terminally bitter nature of the weather.
In credit to both sides, for large periods of the game both attempted to play
passing football but the grim conditions often rendered their noble cause as
unfruitful. It made for a very sloppy 90 minutes with several misplaced passes
or underhit cross-field balls becoming the norm. That said, both sides scored
decent goals in the opening 45.
Orient, absented by the two former DAFC players I was
specifically hoping to assess, opened the scoring. There was a blatant handball
missed in the build up by the referee (who I otherwise felt had a very solid
game) but Mansfield failed to defend well. As the ball was played out onto the
left-wing to evergreen winger Jobi McAnuff, he sidestepped his man and floated
in a perfectly sumptuous cross, which was duly nodded past overweight ageing
goalkeeper Brian Jensen. The scorer in question was ex Arsenal man Jay Simpson,
continuing his rich vein of goalscoring form.
Mansfield’s equaliser arrived shortly before half-time, just
as the contest seemed to be petering slowly towards halftime with no sense of
immediate revival. A throw-in on the right touchline was punted high into the
box, and to complete surprise, Mansfield player Reggie Lambe hit it with a
clean connection straight on the drop. There wasn’t a tremendous amount of
power on it but it was hit well enough to just creep in off the inside of the
post. Lovely technique, if somewhat fortuitous and unexpected.
The second half wielded no more goals but it really should
have. Mansfield launched a ten minute spell whereby they were totally dominant,
peppering the Orient box with several threatening set-pieces, but failed to
truly stamp their mark. Inexplicably, a Mansfield player managed to power a
free header nearly 3 yards wide, leaving everyone who had rushed to their feet
struck in disbelief.
Orient rarely threatened otherwise, seemingly content with a
useful away point but a point apiece probably was probably a fair reflection of
the 90 minutes. It was a disjointed game with intermittent spells of
excitement. I think both sides showed signs of looking like decent passing
sides but lacking a bit of edge and guile in the conditions. Nonetheless, I
really see no signs from watching L2 football that Dover couldn’t compete if we
somehow manage to pull off the unthinkable this year.
Overall, a useful afternoon, a useful and proactive way to
see off what would be an otherwise horrific hangover. I think it’s fair to say
that this upcoming weekend in Hamburg has the potential to better it though……
Positives:
- · Decent ground, if somewhat exposed to the elements.
- · £13 ticket for Students is alright.
- · Reasonable game, can’t complain as a neutral if I manage to see both sides notch.
- · Company. Josh, bless him, can be very overly excitable (a more polite term of saying ‘annoying’) but we share many of the same football principles, and the ones that we don’t on, we can have an undeterminably entertaining argument about.
Negatives:
- · Dreadful atmosphere, little attempt made by either sets of supporters.
- · East Midlands. Their London services are generally ok; however, any of their shorter journeys you can expect delays.
- · Sexist abuse. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for a bit of casual sexism, but shouting “fucking slag” at a female linesman (who had a flawless game on when she was depended, btw) is completely unacceptable (just because she has the audacity to rule correctly rule a decision against you) and demonstrates the pathetic nature of soccer fans.
- · Greene King. Why does it exist? Who actually drinks it? Fuck off.
- · Sammy Moore being perennially injured. He’d have made the differnce for Orient when Mansfield were leaving gaps.
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