“This could be the last time …”
EASTBOURNE BOROUGH NULL MAIDSTONE UNITED VOID
Match Report by Uncle Albert Camus
There’s a specific attitude to the COV19 crisis that recalls that of the Royle Family’s Dave Best, when confronted by an-out-of-date product in the family fridge.
“I don’t worry about that kind of thing Barbara,” says Dave, when he’s told the food has passed its sell-by date. “Ooooh Dave,” his mother-in-law replies. “How lovely!”
For Dave, read The National League’s committee. For Barbara, read every credulous fan who tweeted the need for their “footie fix” this weekend, in the face of a global pandemic.
If Neville Chamberlain had fucked Sue Pollard, the result would be something similar, if not identical to, the current Prime Minister. Unwilling to wait for this congenital idiot to take action, the sporting authorities acted for him, unilaterally calling off events all over the world.
By Tuesday UEFA had decided games should be played behind closed doors. By Friday they’d agreed to postpone them indefinitely. The Premier League followed suit on Friday. Seria A, Ligue 1, La Liga, the Union Cycliste International, the 6 Nations, Formula 1, the NBA, MLB and almost all major sporting organisations followed suit. This was admittedly with some reluctance in certain cases, but while the people running these organisations may be bastards, they aren’t idiots.
There were a handful of exceptions. The most obvious was Cheltenham, where we can surmise that a decision was made about the amount of damage the loss of 120,000 alcoholic gamblers would do to the gene pool.
And at around 1pm on Friday the National League went into a meeting. Over two hours later the puffs of white smoke emerged and a statement was issued, saying …“The National League will keep the operation of its competition under constant and diligent review, and will remain in compliance with government advice at all times. The Football Association has offered its guidance, and made it clear the decision to continue or to suspend a competition is a matter for each league to make. The National League places the welfare and well-being of all those involved in and connected to its competition as the highest priority.
The response to which can best be summed up by the late James Hunt’s response to Murray Walker, here.
We can surmise what happened during that meeting on the basis of a series of tweets from member clubs over the next 24 hours, all of which were so similar in tone and substance that they suggested either deliberate co-ordination, or a spectacular co-incidence.
Eastbourne, like Private Walker in Dad’s Army, saw an opportunity to cash in, offering “football for a fiver” to anyone with a Premier or Football League season ticket. This offer was mirrored by Welling, who were charging a tenner to the tragically disadvantaged sub-section of the population that can afford the £891 a year it costs to watch the Arsenal.
It was almost as if the league had issued a social media template to clubs. “Start with something along the lines of ‘If you need your footie fix,’ etc, etc,and don’t forget the # and a few cheery emojis, yeah…”
Thus at a time when everyone else was encouraging social distancing, the NL was actively trying to pack in as many people as possible. And in an era of cretinous hashtags, #FillTheLane was an outstanding effort from Eastbourne.
At some stage, surely, someone at NLHQ needed to say; “DO YOU NOT FUCKING GET WHAT’S HAPPENING HERE!?”
But no one did. Eastbourne was the away day I was looking forward to more than any other this season: close enough to be almost local, but without the edge you’d get in a derby. At this point however, ladies and gentlemen, I took the decision to boycott the game. It’s not the first time I’ve boycotted a match and I suspect it won’t be the last, but it’s usually on the grounds of naked exploitation (St Albans), idiotic security (Tonbridge, Dover*), or the simple fact that the owner’s a cunt (Boreham Wood). It was however, the first time I’d boycotted a game on public health grounds: not because because I was worried about getting infected, but because I was worried I might spread it. I don’t have symptoms, but that’s the point. You can be carrying COV19 and be completely unaware you have it.
Yesterday 817 people turned up at Priory Lane, any of whom might have been unaware they were asymptomatic. One of our fans contacted us to say that he left after 10 minutes, saying there was just a tiny sliver of soap in the toilet and the conditions on the food stand were, as he put it, “minging.” He, at least, was spared the 80 minutes that followed. (For the record, he also pointed out that an EBFC steward was highly apologetic when he complained.) A second fan described the soap situation as ridiculous and referred to a “festering stench of piss” in the urinals.
It seems like a long time ago that it was announced that JS2 was stepping down and during the week he gave an interview in which he revealed just how ill his wife had been, how he’d tried to give her a kidney and that she’d been given the last rites twice last summer. This, quite aside from everything else, unquestionably, puts her in the vulnerable category.
The last thing anyone needs, with this in mind, is a sub-genre of macho, exceptionalist, bullshit from sources such as Kentish “Footie”, which managed a tweet that might have been ejaculated by Mark Francois, or the Kentish Bellend’s entreaty that you shouldn’t be scared and that you should go and watch some “proper” football.
The team, we’re reliably informed, were happy to play and we’ll leave the subsequent complaints about the performance and the refereeing for another time, but it was obvious many NL players were playing under duress, with the most professional clubs, like Chesterfield and Wrexham, among the most vocal. Eastleigh manager Ben Strevens’ tart response to the NL: “No one wants your thanks,” was subsequently deleted, but only after 144 people had liked it, including Yemi Odubade. Of our other former players, both Jamar Loza and Michee Efete were openly critical.
The bulk of the games went ahead, although for some the hubris was shortlived …
Bromley’s under-23s were due to play us at JWW. That was also called off, for reasons that shouldn’t need a flow chart.
Life is happening fast right now. In the hours after the final whistle it was announced that France and Spain are in lockdown and that in Austria they’re banning meetings of over five people (insert crowd-pleasing punchlines about how they’ve had plenty of practice and Boreham Wood matches here.)
I’d like to dismiss our 3–0 defeat as irrelevant in this context, although the truth is it still made me feel fucking miserable, as it’s likely to be the last game we’ll play for some time.
The NL’s Michael Tattersall probably doesn’t realise people take the piss out of him when he says “Arrv gott t’ chuuuze mar wurrds vurry currfulleh.”
We know better than most that clubs struggle to stay afloat at the best of times, but the league’s position is untenable and unless he wants to go down in history as sport’s equivalent of Dave Best, he’ll have to choose his next words vurry currfulleh indeed.
*Incidentally, please don’t misinterpret this as an attempt to seize the moral highground, we’re well aware of the shitgibbonistic stewarding at JWW this season.
