TT GROUNDHOPPING

Clive Hayward – @Byehorse

Clive discusses his trip to see the Gulls!

WALTON & HERSHAM (A)

The Yellow caravan rolled on from Totton to Walton-on-Thames on Saturday. It was a game where we were on a hiding to nothing. Win against this season’s NLS strugglers and we might cheer up slightly. A loss or a defeat would certainly be one of the worst results in our history, and would surely be terminal for manager Jimmy Ball’s tenure at Plainmoor?

The portents weren’t good. The much-diminished squad had played with little confidence and less determination at Totton on Tuesday and we’ve been to too many plastic football graveyards to have high confidence levels that we would be able to avoid another embarrassment on the road.

As we now know, our fears were misplaced. Having had a fantastic last few years to get them higher up the pyramid than ever before, the Swans are sinking fast, without a home win all season. After a few minutes you could see why: they put up little opposition and the Gulls’ 3-0 win was well deserved.

It was Canada Geese rather than swans that welcomed me into another football watching weekend. I had opted to change trains at Exeter rather than Newton Abbot, and the view from the rattler was monochrome but very calm. The Exe looked as flat as a dab and the feathered flotillas were taking it all in their stride, bobbing serenely on the early morning estuary high tide.

The first real colour of the day came at St Davids. Where I met the Yellows-mad Wade family. There were three generations of fans on Platform Five, all clad in blue & yellow VX3 gear- as was I.

Jumping on the train, we settled down with Kirsty & Keith for a smooth journey to the Capital. The lovely tea trolley lady was soon amongst us, and it was tea & KitKats all round. There was extensive discussion of The Celebrity Traitors, with not much love flying around for James Acaster. Great Western mixed it up a bit with an unscheduled stop at Pewsey and we had a leisurely amble through Wiltshire which annoyed the railway people much more than me.

My equilibrium was slightly disturbed when the youngest member of our party described the humbugs I had brought as “old man’s sweets” and his refusal to believe that I don’t qualify for a railcard (I’m 58) took the shine off learning on Tuesday that at least one bloke who watches Gulls Eye View thinks I’m in my late forties!

We arrived into Paddington at about twenty past 10. With several hours to kill, we decided to get a late breakfast at Waterloo, and soon found ourselves perching and noshing in the “Lion & Unicorn” down in the bowels of the old Eurostar terminal.

We boarded a South Western Railway 10 car, moving off smoothly into South London. My son joined us at Vauxhall and there was a vigorous but entirely pointless debate about whether we were sitting in the middle or at the back of the train. We were at the front of coach 7, so unless you have had a recent head injury the answer should be clear. Let’s say no more about that.

Most trains don’t stop at Hersham, or at Walton on Thames, where they fairly fly through at regular intervals. Happily, ours did, and we piled into The Ashley Park across the road. It’s a very decent pub, with some engaging and quirky bar staff. We had a great time for an hour or so. My mate Andy tells me that it is built on land originally owned by the wealthy family of Siegfried Sasson, the war poet. As Remembrance Day rushes towards us and we soon won’t be able to move for poppies, it was poignant to be enjoying ourselves in that spot.

Walton-on-Thames, as the name suggests, is built on the banks of the river. It is affluent and peaceful and must have seemed like a different universe to the First World War trenches only a hundred miles or so away. With nine of us needing onward transportation, the Uber app was a boon, and we were picked up by Adam in his Vectra for a 10 minute drive to the Weir Inn. We went past the leisure centre where we would be watching the game and on down a lane to the pub, which is in a lovely spot overlooking the river.

The morning mist had long gone, and it was a perfect sunny afternoon. Pints were drunk in the beer garden: which as we know is Torquay fans’ natural habitat. As gin palaces floated past there was an opportunity to catch up. I chatted to my brother, my sister-in-law, Bittlestones senior & junior and the Parkmans, who as I know from recent experience are there if you need them. They are the heart and soul of the Dan Hayfield Appreciation Society, an informal organisation which enables Torquay fans across the globe to keep in touch, keep the faith and keep comprehensive lists of breakfast ratings! They do it for the love of the thing and they fully deserve an occasional shout-out such as this.

When the appointed hour came, we walked back down the lane and cross country to the Elmbridge Xcel Sports Hub. Think Plymouth Parkway with less of a social club and no janners. The ground it most reminded me of was Aveley, and it’s the type of functional, friendly but soulless arena we sometimes have to go to nowadays.

Despite yet another injury- Olufunwa’s knee not being as robust as he had thought- we pulled out a half decent performance against indecently awful opponents. Jimmy Ball had started the day on a managerial cliff edge. It may be that he ended it a few inches closer to safety. Time will tell.

On the train back to Waterloo Chris got talking to two of our victorious team. They were on their way to celebrate the win with some players they know from other clubs, and it’s safe to say that one of them had a better grasp of the Bakerloo Line than the other! They were happy to chat, and it was good of them to do that. One thing’s for sure, the older I get the younger footballers look!

With a blank Saturday next week, it was a win we badly needed. The alternative is too awful to contemplate!