onionbagblog

Wivenhoe Town 1, Stanway Rovers 1

To Broad Lane on Monday afternoon for the final time this season. Actually, that’s not true; Wivenhoe Town are celebrating the nuptials of the future King and Queen of England this weekend with a beer festival.

Blimey.

I’ll drink to that, etc. I thought it only rude not to turn up on Easter Monday and acclimatise myself to the ritual that is getting slowly sloshed whilst up at Broad Lane. Stanway Rovers were the local derby visitors, in a game that the Dragons really needed to get something out of if they want to banish any fears of the drop.

I’m sure that the future King and Queen of England were returning the special relationship favour, drinking cans Special Brew in some Berkshire country estate and toasting the survival of the Dragons in the Ridgeons Premier.

A rare early arrival for @AnnaJCowen and I was all the fault of a couple of visiting Friends in the North. We were rewarded with the sight of the ref and two linos warming up, raising a thigh muscle slightly too high above the advertising barrier.

Whoops – one of the boys has just popped out of the barracks, boy.

Keeping with the topical theme of outdoor celebrations ahead of the big event (Royal Wedding, not a Ridgeons grudge derby) and our little colonised corner of Broad Lane became a picnic sanctuary.

With the last food order just missed at the Horse and Groom, One Stop sells exceedingly nice sarnies for a Bank Holiday Monday afternoon. With everyone’s favourite local shop (yeah, right…) about to be re-branded as a Tesco, I don’t think that it was any coincidence that one of our Friends in the North confessed for an irrational fear of cold sandwiches.

We took up our usual place in the away end (it’s a long story…) and were joined by a couple of old boys from Stanway. I blame the Greenstead roundabout, which takes the best part of an afternoon just to circle around one of the satellites.

Stanway Rovers looked rather poncey in their pre-match ritual of playing patter cake, patter cake baker man. The Listen With Mother tactical approach clearly paid off, with the first half hour of the game giving little joy for the Wivenhoe massive.

Much like the lost Stanway supporters back on the Greenstead, the team from down the road were running rings around the Dragons. The response from Wivenhoe was to launch the dogs of war, i.e. the late arrival of the lovely mutt that also stands in the away section.

With a playing surface on par with Ballast Quay, this wasn’t an afternoon for yer fancy Dan passing game. And thank heavens for that. It wasn’t even an afternoon for studs (steady) with beach football on a rock hard surface being the best description.

Taking in the glamour of Broad Lane and the surrounds, our Friends in the North confused the portakabin down the side of the pitch for the corporate hospitality section.

Cripes.

This is *ahem* Wivenhoe, Madam.

The one chance that fell to the Dragons in the first half was an open goal that of course had to be missed. “Watching bad football being played badly is brilliant,” remarked a Friend in the North, before we both agreed that we would be one hundred times worse if we actually walked it like we talked it.

The highlight of half time was a spectacular multi-coloured tank top being paraded around in the bar. It wouldn’t have looked out of place on Swap Shop on a Saturday morning. I’d wager I’d be hallucinating if the knitwear makes a return appearance after five pints in the bar on Royal Wedding day.

The game finally opened up in the second half, with the heat and challenging pitch adding to the excitement. Our Friends in the north (not N Essex) cheered louder than @AnnaJCowen and I when Wivenhoe were awarded a penalty.

Almost orgasmic celebrations followed from the Friends in the North when the ball was calmly slotted home. I shot my own load at 4:45, with an ill-timed 5pm Bank Holiday work shift starting back at base.

No worries. 1-0 to the Dragons, and with less time than it takes a blushing Royal bride to say “I do” left to play, the game was over. Strange then to find that some five pints later down in The Station, and with a dodgy 3G iPhone signal fired up, buried away on the Ridgeons Premier League site was:

Wivenhoe Town 1, Stanway Rovers 1.

Bugger.

The end of season pitch invasion was presumably abandoned to apathy.

But keep the faith, you fan (s) of non-league North East Essex football. The beer festival has got to be the BEST way to celebrate the Royal nuptials in Wivenhoe. I might even stay until the end.

Chin chin.

Full flickr set over here.