Dulwich Hamlet 5, VCD Athletic 2
To Transpontine del Curva! …on a Tuscany sun-kissed Saturday afternoon in South London.
I’m making up for the confused daze that was my 90’s lost Dulwich experience.
Hidden away somewhere in the back of my mind are torturous visits by VCD Athletic. I certainly didn’t sign up for four figure crowds and a South London sun tan back in the day.
If you had told me two decades ago that 1,961 pink ‘n’ blue BELIEVERS would turn out at Champion Hill to see a struggling VCD outfit, then I would have probably spluttered out my piss poor flask of tea.
There has been many changes at Champion Hill over recent years. The most significant for me is to abandon my personal flask experiment and hit the BOOZE instead.
I never use to really enjoy a visit from VCD Athletic.
Saturday afternoon was one of the BEST DAYS OF MY LIFE.
I probably had sun stroke.
And so this was Not Non-League Day. Dulwich has never been a club to tow the Establishment line when it comes to such protocol.
Which all meant that it was Pay What You Want on the gate.
I dragged @richardgallon away from North / West / whatever London to soak up the South London fun.
An in-depth debate took place over a pint earlier about the difference between Pay What You Want, and Pay What You Can Afford on the gate.
Mathematical sums were actually written down to prove a point.
Calculators were also needed inside the ground. Just as I was about to justify my financial contribution at the turnstile, the first Rabble roar of the afternoon could be heard as Dulwich went 1-0 up.
Bugger.
Oh, I mean Hurrah, etc.
It is on afternoons like this that Champion Hill joins the likes of the lovely lido and The Oval as places where I just don’t want to leave.
The colour radiating around the ground is a living work of art. We are all artistic elements making up a wider masterpiece documenting South London life, via the pink ‘n’ blue palette.
I think I enjoyed my pint of Dulwich Hamlet branded lager.
The goals kept on coming, and so did the conversations.
1-0, 2-0, 3-0 - HELLOOOOO! I haven’t seen you in years.
I don’t want to give too much away about Pay What You Want (I really didn’t give too much away…) but I felt flushed enough to fork out for a 50-50 ticket.
I think I misunderstood the concept as I handed my 50p over.
Whoops.
The walk down to the Car Wash End at half time itself was joyous. Out of the shadows and into the backdrop of the autumnal hues of the plant thingy behind the goal.
It looked absolutely perfect decorated in pink ‘n’ blue.
4-0, 5-0 - I think?
And oh.
Dennis Healy has died.
“Who is Dennis Healy?”
…asked some chap who probably wasn’t around back in the day when I was flushing out my flask of piss poor tea.
I wiggled my eyebrows and called him a Silly Billy.
The afternoon ended in the same way as it started - missing goals and more BOOZE.
But these were VCD goals, and so who gives a stuff.
Twenty years ago and I would have legged it out of the ground as soon as the ref blew for full-time.
THIS IS NO FUN.
I didn’t want to leave on Saturday.
The view from the Champion Hill sun terrace could have been one from a Mediterranean package holiday.
It’s strong stuff, that Dulwich Hamlet lager.
Pockets of fans remained scattered around the ground, soaking up the sun and enjoying the surrounds. Kids were playing around the pitch. I considered going topless to watch the setting of the Tuscany sun.
Edgar Kail in my heart…