TT GROUNDHOPPING

Clive Hayward – @Byehorse

Clive discusses his trip to Cornwall

TRURO CITY (A)

Eaten too much chocolate? Stuffed with lamb and mint sauce? Struggling to get through Easter Sunday, which is still an important day for many with a Christian faith but frankly just something we need to get through before we can watch Paul Watton’s promotion-chasing Yellows at Plainmoor again?

Fear not. Torquay Talk never sleeps, and here is the Truro blog you’ve all been waiting for!

Fun, wasn’t it?

I may have been guilty of over-thinking Saturday beforehand. Checking weather apps every 15 minutes. Looking for bus timetables. Briefly thinking about whether it might not be more sensible to drive and, if so, whether the A30 might not be a good bet. Making a 34th screen print of my match ticket. That sort of thing.

It all panned out beautifully in the end.

I know people who were on the 9.07 train from Newton Abbot. I respect them for their extraordinary stamina and addiction to the shindig, but ultimately the lad and I decided 10.33 was a more dignified option. We arrived to hear news that the service was very busy, and the grapevine turned out to be spot on. The morning service from Paddington to Penzance was indeed “Sergio Ramos”, with every seat taken by people escaping the Smoke for a weekend in Cornwall. It was standing room only but Torquay supporters are hardy folk, and the journey down through the South Hams was cheerful enough.

Many readers of this article will know Keith, aka Kirsty’s other half. He is hugely knowledgeable and enthusiastic about all railway matters (handy, given his occupation as The Not Very Fat Controller), and he suggested we hop off so we could take advantage of a much quieter Truro-bound train at Plymouth. So that’s what we did, and the rest of the journey was much more comfortable. Our companions included Alan Wills and his Three Musketeers, Colin the boxing fan and a chap I will call Hornchurch George. Colin and George had travelled all the way down from the South East, and they were starting to feel it. The steam train at Bodmin Parkway blew their minds and George said he was certain we had gone back to the 1950s. Obviously Cornwall can do that to you, but after the HST had stopped at every telegraph poll in the Duchy we arrived in Truro at about 1 o’clock.

The Railway Inn isn’t the sort of place you would go on your holidays, but it had the vital characteristics of serving booze and being 60 seconds’ walk from the taxi rank. The smell of disinfectant was overpowering, but they didn’t appear to be putting it in the beer, and we had a quick one before hopping into a cab. £15 for a three mile journey was a bit steep, but it was a Bank Holiday and the Cornish love making a quick buck from visitors. It certainly beat the hell out of walking, even thought the forecast rain had briefly relented.

What can you say about the Truro City Stadium? Let’s be kind. It’s a work in progress. I would imagine that after their nomadic existence of the last few seasons Truro would have been happy to play on a farmer’s field provided that it was the right side of Plymouth, so they have moved into a brand new ground on the far outskirts of town which boasts one stand and a small covered standing area behind one of the goals. Probably fine if you’ve got a crowd of 800 but inadequate for sizeable away supports. We had to make do with a small, uncovered, slippery-when-wet metal terrace and lengthy flat tarmac areas which owe more to supermarket carparks than football grounds.

Anyway, we made the best of it. A pre-match hour of steady rainfall did not dampen the spirits. The unchanged line-up took many by surprise, with the Manager showing faith in Omar Mussa in a game many would have felt was too high risk for the Burundian maverick. Omar was great, again. Calm and resourceful in possession, with more tricks in the bag than Paul Daniels in his prime. He put in a good shift before a thigh strain necessitated his replacement early in the second half.

I didn’t know Jordan Dyer was only 24. In truth I am more “vibesman” than statistician. As at Dorking, Jordan’s performance was mountainous, extremely reassuring and had the hallmarks of a much more experienced defender. Whilst he and our young colossus-in-waiting Sam Dreyer didn’t quite have Truro’s 40 goal strike-force Jaze Kabia and Tyler Harvey in their pockets, the Irishman and the Plymothian sports betting enthusiast got no change from our back four and the often-prolific Tinners have now scored (checks notes) no goals in 270 minutes of toil against us this season. Now that’s a stat!

Most of us were quietly confident at half time. Truro had rarely threatened, and although Christian Oxlade-Chamberlain gets great distance with his long throws they tend to be a bit more loopy than would be ideal, and most of them were headed away with unruffled ease.

You know the rest. Matt Jay had been on our minds and the shortest man-bun wearer in the history of Torquay United scored a goal that will be remembered long after he has retired and is celebrating his Easter with the Hot Cross variety. Picking the ball up from the Trago-loving Lirak Hasani, he made the most of an inviting channel to advance on goal and beat Dan Lavercombe with a shot which Dino Zoff would only have been able to wave at as it arrowed into the top corner. We can forgive Cody Cooke his miss on the half-volley a few minutes later. If he had stuck that away the home side would have been zombies for the rest of the game, but as “away matches against free-scoring table-toppers” go, we saw it out pretty comfortably.

An immense 94 minutes from a team that seems to save its best performances for crunch games. It’s not a bad habit.

It was a party making our way out of the ground. Hugs from my sister-in-law, a handshake with Paul B and much general screaming of “Yes” and “Get in” with people who have seen too many dreadful awaydays not to make the most of this one.

About 15 minutes later there were perhaps 40 bedraggled supporters of both sides waiting for the Truronian shuttlebus, and after some negotiation commonsense won the day: we all got on together and, in fact, also got on together on the journey back. There was singing. There was banter. Perhaps we wouldn’t have got away with it in a big city but this is the Westcountry and far more unites football fans than divides them.

We got off at the railway station and had another half an hour in the pub getting dry on the outside and wetter internally.

The party continued all the way home. There was drumming, singing and dancing on the platform. This continued on the 10 car Hitachi. Meal deals were consumed. Belgian lager was seen off and Marimba Rhythm Jordan Young songs were belted out. It was reminiscent of Woking (a). I have never felt so alive!

Bring on the Weymouth!

See you tomorrow.

COYY – CLIVE

Victory at Truro ✅
Still in the title fight ✅
Play off spot confirmed ✅
Huge Plainmoor crowd incoming for Monday ✅

Let's keep going Yellow Army! 💛💛💛#TUFC pic.twitter.com/66c4CHpjby
— TORQUAYTALK (@TORQUAYTALK) April 19, 2025