Crap Match Report

27 October 2013 » No Comments

Dulwich Hamlet 2, Billericay Town 1

To Champion Hill! …on a windswept Transpontine afternoon for the latest instalment in my football re-education. Thirty-six years watching the beautiful game: two European Cups [TWO!] a Simod Cup and even a brief flirtation with the fantasy football of *shhh* supporting two Trentside teams.

But over a quarter of a Century of football fandom was finally killed off when I was finally out-priced of the game.

Football is Dead, Long Live Future Football.

Something VERY special is happening down at Dulwich right now. The style and fluidity [oooh] of the football is far superior to even the pomp of the Clough Glory Years that I was lucky to lap up. In return the fans have responded with a carnival of gayety behind the goal.

Blimey.

The re-birth of Dulwich Hamlet as an institution for Transpontine sporting excellence has come full circle. Those fanciful stories of a GREAT club that I use to read about in the ACE Hamlet Historian have returned.

These are truly Golden Days down at Dulwich. Crowds of 500 plus, a very special team on the verge of something unthinkable, and probably the only Voodoo stick in the non-league game.

It’s no wonder that dear old Bill tapped me on the arm at half time and said:

“I have to pinch myself that this is really happening.”

TUSCANY!

Which is a million miles away from Billericay, the Essex away team on Saturday. The boys in blue were a bunch of bruisers, preferring a ‘robust’ style of football that one would expect from a team managed by ex-Hamlet boss Craig Edwards.

I’ve just entered the Craig Edwards period during my mammoth online unarchiving of Transpontine images. My files tagged with Dulwich Hamlet depict plenty of gnarled teeth and expressions of pain.

And that’s just what was left of the thinning Rabble behind the goal.

It was around this period in the Dulwich timeline that I simply got bored and started basket weaving on a Saturday afternoon instead.

But skill and a belief in the passing game will always win the day. It certainly helped Forest to those TWO European Cups, not to mention the glory of the Simod back in ’89.

A first half penalty gave Dulwich the lead. The Voodoo stick charmed the masses into a Pied Piper merry jig.

“You ARE the Jay Rayner of Dulwich Hamlet!”

…I remarked to the man with the incredibly BIG stick. It was meant as a compliment, recognition that any rallying call needs a lightening rod (or Voodoo stick) in which to flush out football fandom from an afternoon of basket weaving.

Dulwich doubled their lead with a beautiful passing goal shortly into the second half. The Rabble embraced and kissed. A man (or woman) can have no greater love than 90 minutes and their friends.

I do fear that local estate agents will soon start to write twaddle about ‘vibrancy, energy and artisan experiences [steady]‘ when they catch on that Dulwich Hamlet is by far the strongest selling point in a locality that has already gentrified beyond belief.

But if you want some help with the marketing tosh, then yeah, I’m yer man.

Billericay played to form, especially Fat 5 Freddy, the chunky centre half who bullied his way around the pitch. It strangely led to a late penalty to the away team, leaving those pink and blue lucky pants slightly browning.