Day Out

At last I've got a Scottish team to support

Peter Davies goes north of the border

A few years ago I went to watch a Hereford United game at Edgar Street.

At the final whistle the Bulls fans I was with left the terraces and went round to the HUFC social club. They then sat and watched the final results coming in on TV. Nothing unusual in this, except they weren't really interested in the scorelines affecting their side, but rather in the lower-league Scottish scores that are usually such a big turn-off.

I discovered that all my friends had their own 'pet' Scottish team. One 'supported' Cowdenbeath, another Albion Rovers, and a third Dumbarton. And when I say 'supported', I say it in an extremely loose way. They had just adopted a team for the sake of it - maybe because of the colours the side wore, or because of the bizarre nickname they had, or for some other, equally meaningless, reason.

I was startled by this phenomenon. I just sat quietly and watched. I prefer Celtic to Rangers, and in the 1980s I always liked the concept of the 'New Firm' of Aberdeen and Dundee United emerging out of the shadows of the 'Old Firm' to dominate Scottish football, however briefly.

But I've never really had a serious soft spot for a Scottish team. I've watched a Scottish First Division game at Easter Road - Hibernian v Greenock Morton - and I once stepped onto the turf at Stark's Park, Raith Rovers' home ground, when I visited Kirkcaldy, but that is about the limit of my engagement with Scottish football. 

Oh, I forgot. I once had a short romantic liaison with a girl whose parents came from Perth, and who thus supported St. Johnstone; and the young lady I travelled to Kirkcaldy with had some affection for Raith in the halcyon days of manager Jimmy Nicholl (qualification for Europe etc etc)
But that is definitely it.

That was until Easter this year when I journeyed up to Edinburgh. I spent a couple of nights in the capital and then moved on to Arbroath. As a place to visit in Scotland, Arbroath appealed to me for various reasons: it's close-ish to Edinburgh, it's by the sea, it's famous for its smoked fish, and it's extremely historic on account of its abbey (where 'Scottish independence' was proclaimed many centuries ago).

Arbroath also has a football team - world famous on account of their 36-0 demolition of Aberdeen amateur team Bon Accord in September 1885.
But, with due respect to the town, Arbroath is not a tourist hotspot. Think of Darlington or Barnsley by the sea and you have a helpful mental picture of what Arbroath is all about. It's friendly, unassuming and unpretentious as a town, but beautiful it is not. Fish is the big thing - and the whole place stinks of the stuff.

When I knew I was going to spend a day or so in and around Arbroath I was very determined to make a pilgrimage to Gayfield Park, home of Arbroath FC. When I got to the ground, I was not disappointed.

Gayfield is a grey, slightly dilapidated stadium, about 12 yards away from the raging tides of the North Sea. Gay Meadow may be the closest football ground in Britain to a river, but Gayfield wins the 'Closest Football Ground In Britain To The Sea' award. No doubt at all.

I popped in around 4.45pm on the day of my arrival. Gayfield was deserted except for a moustached middle-aged bloke who was just about to lock up and go home. As you do on such occasions, I asked him if I could just have a very swift wander around the stadium. He was very pleasant and said OK. He would go and pick up his wife; I would have five minutes to lap up the atmosphere of the ground.

I certainly got the most out of my five minutes. I wandered up to the centre spot and inspected it closely. Then I walked over to one of the penalty areas. I inspected the penalty spot, took a pretend spot-kick, and then inspected the goalposts and netting. I strolled round the perimeter of the ground and then saw that my friend had re-emerged from his domestic chore, and I chatted with him for two minutes in the main stand. He said that Arbroath had fallen on hard times, that the club had no money, and that it was still feeling the financial after-shock of having to lay out c.£10,000 for a huge metal fence to 'separate' rival supporters. The look on my friend's face suggested that it was totally ludicrous that the SFA should demand that small, impoverished clubs erect such a fence, when there was no hooliganism to speak of.

I still did not know who I was talking to, but I deduced that my new friend was a club employee of some sort. He kept on bombarding me with information about AFC: Montrose were the big local rivals, crowds at Gayfield were dwindling, and the club was making a huge effort to attract young local fans and young local players. I asked whether I could take some Arbroath FC merchandise off his hands. He said I'd have to come back the day after; he had to shoot off straight away. 

So, I came back the following day and discovered that my friend was the Arbroath FC secretary. He had his own office and invited me in. The players were at the ground for training and the manager, John Brownlie, kept on popping in to organise a reserve team fixture.

In between more chit-chat about Arbroath, First Division Scottish football, and the daily routine of a football club employee, he asked me who I myself followed. I had already said that I was just visiting Arbroath, so he knew I wasn't a local (I think he might have worked that out from my accent, anyway). I said Wrexham - and all he said was: 'Isn't that were Fergie's lad is playing now?' I replied in the affirmative and spent at least quarter of an hour explaining to him how DF is very much a chip off the old block: always complaining, always moaning, always getting into pointless trouble with referees etc etc.
Anyway, I had come for designer AFC merchandise and my friend, the secretary, summoned one of the youth team players to open up the rather ramshackle souvenir shop. And in a spontaneous spending blitz I bought, in no particular order:

• One Arbroath FC mug.

• One cuddly toy dressed in Arbroath home colours (maroon and white).

• One watercolour painting of Gayfield (it's now framed and on my lounge wall).

• Several recent AFC matchday programmes.

I was having a whale of a time - and my friend could not really fathom why this bloke from south of the border was making a rather decent effort to buy out his club shop. I left Gayfield very happy indeed.

But the most poignant part of my stay in eastern Scotland was to follow. I went into the high street intent on buying a maroon-and-white Arbroath home shirt (they were out of stock at the ground).

Unfortunately, though, none of the sports shops sold the Arbroath kit - only Celtic and Rangers gear. Discuss.
Needless to say, though, I will be looking out for Arbroath's scores in 2002-3.

NB. The Official AFC website says this about the club's early history and that famous day when Arbroath beat Bon Accord 36-0:

Arbroath Football Club was founded on July 29 1878 and is therefore the oldest surviving club north of the River Forth. The original club colours were black and white spider stripes and it played its first ever match on September 28 1878 against Our Boys of Dundee, winning 3-0. The match was played at Woodville, just outside Arbroath but the club's first real home was at Hospitalfield until 1880, when the club moved to its newly acquired ground at Gayfield. The first match at what became known as 'Old Gayfield' took place on October 23 when Arbroath met Rob Roy, from Callander in the Scottish Cup, winning 2-1. The early years were quite successful for the club, which made history in 1885 by beating Aberdeen Bon Accord 36-0 in the first round of the Scottish Cup. According to the press reports, the Arbroath keeper, Jim Milne, did not touch the ball during the match and sheltered from the rain under a spectator's brolly. Willie Petrie scored 13 goals that day, a record which still stands today!