TT GROUNDHOPPING

Clive Hayward – @Byehorse

Clive discusses his trip to Tonbridge

TONBRIDGE (A)

This one was personal. It turned out to be beautiful, too.

First of all, let’s have it right, Tonbridge is a nice town. A bit of old money there, I fancy. A ruined castle and an imposing public school. Our old friend the River Medway flows through it. On a spring day it’s a pleasant place to be.

But Tonbridge also has bad memories for Torquay fans. In December 2021, as the post-Ashton Gate rot was setting in, National League Torquay were drawn away to Tonbridge Angels in the FA Trophy. Then as now, the home club were operating in National League South. Although Gary Johnson had trivialised the tie (”where’s that?”), there was an early Christmas present for the Men of Kent as they unceremoniously dumped us out 2-1. The Football League dream was slipping away fast and that bleak day was later commemorated on the National Obsession podcast by John & Charlie singing “It’s Tonbridge Angels instead.”

Obviously things then got a lot worse. In February 2024 the Gaming International era finally came to an end, with Clarke Osborne helpfully arranging for the worst squad in living memory to be hit with a 10 point deduction as he left the building with as much class as he had arrived.

Which brings us to March 16th 2024. We now found ourselves in the same division as the Angels, and as Spring started to take hold Matty and I visited the town more in hope than expectation of a victory to settle the relegation nerves.

We took a selfie on a bridge. There was a quite lovely backdrop. Drifts of primroses set off by castle battlements in the background. We found a beer garden nearby, and as always the pre-match chat was optimistic. But Aaron Downes’ charges put in a desperate display on the plastic. Anger soon replaced excitement, and with the club seemingly sleepwalking to oblivion we vented our spleen in George Edwards’ direction, missing our consolation goal in a 4-1 hammering and leaving early for a trudge back to the train and several miserable cans on the way home.

51 weeks later, we made it back to Tonbridge. The sun was out, it was the first properly warm away day since Hampton in October, and although we hadn’t exactly been setting the world alight in recent weeks we knew that our club is now in safe hands and that if we don’t get success this season there is a base to try again next year.

So we took a selfie on the bridge. The backdrop still lovely. The primroses drifting again and the battlements still dreaming. We ambled along to the Ivy House pub where we basked in that same beer garden. Colin, Jonny, Keith, Kirsty and others. We had a drink, we snaffled some crisps and indulged in some semi-serious football chat and some dedicated mickey taking.

2pm. Team news. This week, the news was good. We had a semi-fit striker and we were going to use him!

Then, we walked. The Longmead Stadium is a long, flat stroll ideal for middle aged fatties like myself to accumulate a few steps on a Saturday. We passed the school, opposite which is a blue plaque honouring Kent & England cricket captain Colin Cowdrey. After a while we passed some parkland where we admired a duckpond and assured ourselves: “It can’t be much further now.” It wasn’t. We arrived at the ground in time for another pint.

Glory be: just as the last drops of Staropramen were being drained, Youngy buried the best chance of the game. We went one nil up, and for another beer! The lion-hearted Ozzy Zanzala, playing on one knee, failed to get a second just before half time, but it didn’t matter. Up the other end for the second half, we sang the lads on to a 1-0 win which puts us in great heart for the promotion race’s final stretch.

Dreamland. Should we really be celebrating a narrow win at Tonbridge? Maybe not. Did we celebrate a narrow win at Tonbridge? You bet we did. Another healthy walk preceded a ride to Charing Cross lubricated by the sweetest of all beverages: the post-victory train can. They have been in fairly short supply this season, and in truth I hadn’t expected to drink one this weekend. But as the sun started to set over South London our thoughts turned to Dorking. We’ll be underdogs for that, but the 8.54 from Newton Abbot may well be standing room only, and there’s only one way to find out…