GROUNDHOPPING
Clive Hayward
@Byehorse
Clive discusses the trip to Dorset
WEYMOUTH (A)
Robert Emerson Lucas Jr. was an American economist at the University of Chicago. Widely regarded as the central figure in the development of the new classical approach to macroeconomics, he received the Nobel Prize in Economics in 1995 “for having developed and applied the hypothesis of rational expectations, and thereby having transformed macroeconomic analysis and deepened our understanding of economic policy”.
Bob passed away last year, but his memory lives on in Dorset, with one of the county’s only remaining proper football grounds bearing his name. You can keep your brand new Wimbornes, your all seater Bournemouths and your Dorchester Tescos. The Bob Lucas is where it’s at. An old-fashioned arena with covered terraces, uncovered terraces, proper floodlight pylons and crash barriers so rusty that a tetanus jab is advisable if you want to stand within 6 feet of them.
In fact, football has only been played there since 1987 and my research tells me that it had previous use as a speedway and dog racing venue. Don’t tell Clarke Osborne!!
But it’s high time I stopped taking the mickey out of Weymouth Football Club. I wouldn’t imagine they are flush with cash themselves, but they have recent memories of things going belly-up and it was a fantastic gesture to donate £5 per ticket to try to keep the wolf from the Torquay door.
The real Bob Lucas was actually a Weymouth goalkeeper who went on to be Club President. When he was terminally ill a decision was made to name the ground after him. He was obviously a much loved & respected figure locally and it’s another really nice touch.
Our local derbies this season have been somewhat ruined by a combination of:
· Having to play them on Tuesday nights
· Yeovil being too good
· Us being so poor that Truro had no difficulty taking the points on Boxing Day, and
· The Taunton microclimate
A trip up the coast to Weymouth on a Saturday afternoon was therefore always going to be a more attractive prospect, even before the somewhat-energising effect of Gaming International spitting the dummy on February 23rd.
It was a nice day out. I decided to drive and arrived just after twelve. The first thing I saw as I searched for somewhere to park in town was several police vans and about a dozen boys in blue standing around with little to do. There were no football supporters in sight though, just 50 people waving Palestinian flags who were formed up outside McDonalds in readiness for a very short march to a rally on the seafront.
On the seafront it was a timeless scene of good-natured locals and tourists enjoying the early Spring sunshine and strolling along the prom, prom prom. In the shopping street behind it there was in fact a very small brass band. It was mainly kids, and they were having a good stab at playing “The Lion Sleeps Tonight”.
I found my way into “the Oldest Pub in Weymouth”- The Black Dog. The interior was old, dark, wooden and whilst not perhaps as depressing as its name suggests it was very quiet, and I moved swiftly back to the station to meet Matty off the train.
As well as putting me to shame with his deep devotion to all things Yellow he is an English teacher, and he had put his lengthy journey from the North West to good use. Many GCSE students’ essays had passed before his eyes and one day soon his Year Elevens will be finding out what he thinks of their analysis of “An Inspector Calls”. One can only hope his marking is better than Torquay’s for the Weymouth equaliser!
We drove to the ground and parted with a very reasonable £2 to park around the back of the main stand. After a short walk up to the away end and a thorough frisk we were in, and the away end was a buoyant place to be. My brother hasn’t quite managed to shake off Yellow Fever, and he joined us for what can only be described as a mediocre 90 minutes on the pitch with a slightly more upbeat atmosphere off it. I blew up my first balloon in 15 years. In days gone by I would have been ripping up a Yellow Pages too!
This has been said many times recently, and usually more eloquently than I can manage, but I can genuinely think of nowhere else I would rather be on a Saturday afternoon. Torquay United is much more than a business- thank goodness! It is a precious community asset which needs to be looked after, protected and cherished.
Nothing said this more than a couple of chats on the way out. I had met Simon Bittlestone- he of Charlie Baker hat-burning fame- at Farnborough, and we renewed our acquaintance. He was wearing his new pride and joy, his Osman Foyo shirt, and was hand in hand with his young son, who was resplendent in an orange goalkeeper’s jersey with his name on the back. Dad & lad had clearly had a great afternoon together and exactly the same applied to my TT colleague Chris Wade, who bounced out of the stand with his two excited sons.
I didn’t see George Edwards, which was probably for the best.
These are dark days for the club we love, but the flame is still burning. No pyro required!
Up the Gulls!
COYY – CLIVE
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