A Saturday at the Huish

Yeovil Town 2:2 Bournemouth
(Virgo (pen), MacDonald : Ings (2, 1pen)
Leccy Board League One : 23/04/2011
Huish Park, Yeovil : Ground no.69



Doing a second ground over Easter is something of a regular with the games splitting across Good Friday and Easter Saturday. Previous years, I've visited Bury and Wycombe on the day Leicester weren't playing. The original intention thistime was to do one of the Devon clubs, ideally Exeter on the Good Friday but with Sky moving Forest game to Good Friday, it left just Yeovil has the only ground I hadn't visited in the 92 who we're kicking off at Saturday, 3pm. I didn't mind, even more so with the good weather. A nice drive down to deepest Somerset in the sun, it's better than struggling through snow, frozen windscreen cleaner and a M6 traffic jam to visit Morecambe in November (yes, that's correct. Probably my favourite neutral day of the season).

Fun was to be had on the route set by the Sat Nav. I rolled down towards Cheltenham having to content with the various jam-packed cars and their swaying caravans. Down the A46 towards the M5. Nice and easy at this point except for a roundabout where it appeared everyone in Warwickshire wanted to go Stratford Racecourse. Sat Nav said go towards Bristol. Instead it ended up through it, pass the Cabot Circus and towards Wells. Traffic hellwas had. Once through that trauma, it was through pretty much every village in Somerset on roads of restricted speed limits and cameras. All very quaint, past pubs with no-one in and inns with no vacancies. So reinforced the attraction of this groundhop with Yeovil being Somerset's only Football League club.

Eventually I got there, the problem with Huish Park is that it's another of those out-of-town developments. My opportunities for a Somerset Cider and a steak reduced significantly as it developed I was pretty much in boring suburbia with a run of mill Holiday Inn pub and a massive Asda to choose from. One saving grace, a fish and chips restaurant next to a garden centre, I certainly see their target audience there. I'll have a sit down I thought, plenty of time to kill. Sat down at a table and could clearly tell the (19-21 year old) waitresses we slightly miffed at this 22 year old lad sitting a table for fish and chips alone. I was pretty much instructed when receiving a menu that the only thing left was fish and chips and that it was closing soon. They were possibly some of the worst ever fish and chips I've had, I had the odd ends basically. I had made an error and for the rest of the day, I was starving. Never judge a book by it's cover.

Walked towards the ground, up a hill and it was a good fifteen minute mosey to Huish Park with it's pebbledash car park and a tent for a pub. Huish Park is rather simple and pretty basic. Two simple sized seating stands along the side, a covered terrace behind one goal and an open terrace for the away fans. All with the steel painted a nice solid dark green. Nothing really interesting or stand-out and a low score on the location. In an increasing trend of ripping off the small man (this season I've watched football for free and a fiver), I paid £11 for the Cowlin Stand on an Under 21 rate.

Unlike the previous neutral tale of Bradford City and their plight, this is a happier tale. Both clubs, Yeovil Town and Bournemouth are in the midst of being modestly successful and whilst neither club is equalling their clubs' best, they are playing above themselves.

The beauty of these two is that the only expectation is a sign of a building optimism. Yeovil Town went to the dizzy heights of nearly reaching the Championship and rather than go chasing after it, they have respectfully stayed in League One keeping a sensible budget and developing the club. Terry Skiverton's a club legend, he was there alongside Gary Johnson as they accelerated through the divisions (Conference to League One) as captain and occasionally goal-scoreer. Now he's the gaffer.



Carrying out an understated job of keeping Yeovil Town out of trouble, relegation scares occur but there is never any final day of the season pressure cooker. Importantly for a young manager, it appears he possesses a good book of contacts with loanees from Tottenham and other Premiership clubs always strengthening their side. This is often criticised how clubs over-achieve because of their use of loanees but for me it's not a problem, the majority of loanees are young and British. It's developing English Football. Skiverton has also sensibly picked up bargains like Dean Bowditch and Paul Wotton who can provide a background for the young lads to flourish.

After two seasons of constantly battling point deductions and transfer embargoes,Bournemouth have performed even better. A near great escape saving themselves from relegation to League Two in 2007/08, followed by staying up in League Two despite being deducted 17 points the following season, then a promotion from League Two and now in the play-offs of League One. Incredible effort mostly done with the same players who followed them down the divisions. The vultures have already circled, Eddie Howe and Jason Tindall the management team for the majority of it are now at Burnley with Marvin Bartley alongside them. Despite some recent wobbles, they find themselves still in 6th with Rochdale on their back. So they came in confidence with a full away end terrace cheering them on.

When I sit at a game as a neutral, I pretty much keep quiet bar the odd round of applause and a stand-up when a home goal goes in. I know this is completely different to my body language at a Leicester game. I may no Tasmanian devil at the Walkers but I am certainly not polite in my language or gestures. It became apparently as the first half wore on, sitting next to me was a young Bournemouth fan probably in his late teens. Originally I thought he was with a father and his young lad at the end of the row but as Donal McDermott, Bournemouth winger ran his way through the Yeovil defence I could hear 'go on son' under his breath. It reminded me of the film version of Fever Pitch where the narrator goes to a cup tie at Reading wearing his Arsenal gear only to find out his Mum has bought him a ticket for the home end. He'd probably came with his mates and once he realised he couldn't unleash his support found it a bit crap.



He was growing nervous as Bournemouth dominated the play in the first half with a centre midfield of Danny Hollands and Harry Arter controlling play and ensure the ball was in Yeovil's half of the pitch. Despite the pressure, Yeovil had the better chance of a goal-less first half. Jonathan Obika, a loanee from Tottenham missed a sitter when his initial shot was saved and his rebound missed the goal completely with the keeper's back turned.

Obika was the victim of the young lad two seats towards the left, swear words I never expected off a Somerset schoolchild. 'You fucking prick Obika, just fucking ping it!'

Below me was an annoying woman in about her late-sixties who had the Somerset accent down to a fine art, the way she screeched 'Andy' in reference to the incredibly weak and bony, Andy Welsh got on my tits. What made it worst was these screeches were in approval of Welsh, he played for Leicester you know and I thought he was completely shite at the Walkers. He's well liked at Yeovil, his mug was on the front of the local paper being sold outside the ground as he'd had a baby in the week.

A constant trend these goalless first half on neutral visits, it gives you a whole first half to regret why you went in the first place. The Bournemouth fan must have thought the same of the swearing kid and the annoying woman, he never returned for the second half. The second half was what I'd visited for, a little needle was required and it soon developed. Paul Huntingdon's second yellow card which was well deserved but the tension up a couple of clicks accordingly.

Then I seen one of the most stupid actions I have done all season, Adam Smith for Bournemouth made a run into the box from his right-back position and made a feeble attempt at conning the ref for a penalty with a laughable. Except it was a penalty. It wasn't for the foul though but Adam Virgo's over the top reaction to the dive. Rather than telling Smith to get the fuck up, he tried to rip his head additionally to telling him he's a cheating bastard. And to top it off, in front of the linesmen. Just plain daft. Of course, the Yeovil fans didn't see this way. It was a penalty no doubt, Virgo should have gone off but the ref decided a yellow was enough.

Danny Ings from the penalty spot, 1-0. The crowd had got a bit barmy by now, the ref was a scummy twat and all that jazz. Bournemouth helped matters by extending their lead with a superb counter-attack move. Keeper collects a corner, slings the ball 40 yards into the path of Liam Feeney who was rapid and impressed throughout. His square cross after running 35 yards in super speed was met by a first-time finish on his chocolate foot by Danny Ings (could make a decent little career this fella).

So Yeovil were beaten. The ten men looked ragged and not really bothered. It took until the old boys around me were considering leaving on 86 minutes for a response, a cross blocked by Harry Arter's arm led to Adam Virgo slotted a penalty away. Game on, that roar had returned and so had that young kid's swearing.

His day was made when Yeovil struck a late equaliser. A corner knocked in, Yeovil goalie in there *cliche alert* creating havoc and Shaun MacDonald popped up with a header into the goal. Cue chaos and the young lad running to front of the stand to greet his hero as MacDonald showcased his delight. Shaun MacDonald is quite possibly the most ugliest footballer in the English game currently, I pretty much shat myself as he ran towards the stand with the look of a bull who'd got a hard-on. The young lad didn't mind, he came up the stairs to tell his Dad he'd high-fived Shaun MacDonald.



A swift exit after the final whistle, a familiar feeling as heading towards the car. I saw a Dad with his son marching off in front, both Bournemouth. His son was embarrassed because his Dad was whispering expletives as his side cocked up a two-goal lead. Jumped in the car, heard the results. Rochdale had lost, the Bournemouth play-off bid rolls on....I know the feeling swearing Bournemouth Dad.