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| Rovers Loyal give it some flag |
Doncaster sits on the same river as
Sheffield and, like its larger neighbour, it grew off the back of the coal and
steel industries. Unlike Sheffield, though, Donny never seems to have become a
footballing hotbed. The local club
currently sits in League One but has, in recent years, seen both better days
and far worse ones. As recently as 2004 Doncaster were in the Conference, but
between then and now they’ve ruffled feathers in the Championship. In any event
they’ve come a long way since the days when a former chairman tried to burn
down their old stadium, Belle Vue, the remnants of which are still visible out
by the racecourse.
Of the modern town, you might expect to
hear that it has seen better days. In reality, this is no more true than it is
of most industrial English towns. The main problem with Doncaster is the way its ring road butchers the town
centre. Even as someone brought up in provincial England during surely its
worst era for civic architecture, I’ve honestly never seen worse. The ring road
brutally cuts off George Gilbert Scott’s Minster from the town, while virtually
any pedestrian journey around Doncaster seems to involve dicing with its traffic.
I highly recommend that any visitor take in
Cask Corner, a delightful and central pub and live music venue which completely
mis-describes itself as a “dive bar”. After enjoying its selection of ales, the
most direct route to the ground is to wander down Wood St and then Chequer
Road, from where you have two choices.
The shorter option is to cross the infernal
ring road and walk down Childers Street through the Hyde Park district. Then
you take a fenced pathway down the side of an industrial estate to the north
end of Stadium Way. I had no trouble taking this route back from the ground,
but note that Hyde Park is one of the tougher districts of Doncaster by repute,
so unaccompanied women at least might want to avoid this route after dark. The alternative is to turn right where
Chequer Rd meets the rind road, then left at the next roundabout down the side
of the main road; after a while there are signs to the stadium to your left.
The Keepmoat is visually imposing for a
stadium its size, with the angled floodlights (a rarity on a modern ground)
giving it real presence and luminosity. It’s less than half full tonight.
Although Rovers still draw thirteen or fourteen thousand for the biggest games,
I get the feeling that following the local team is a niche interest in
Doncaster. Despite the sparse crowd, the ticketing system has allocated me one of
the worst seats in the house. I’m in the very front row and right in the
corner. I quickly relocate to find a better vantage point.
The game itself is of decent technical quality
for this level, but offers little to report. The visitors get a goal after only
a few minutes courtesy of AJ Leitch-Smith, who sounds like he belongs in a
Victorian cricket team. Early goals can sometimes invigorate games by opening
them up tactically, but this one has the opposite effect; winded, Rovers never
really get out of second gear. After going in 1-0 down, they start the second
half in brighter fashion but are more or less killed off by another, scrappier
goal from Leitch-Smith.
Rovers’ players mostly seem skillful and
comfortable on the ball, but they’re reluctant to get it into dangerous areas
quickly. Vale are able to neutralize them easily by dropping deep to defend.
When a cross from Cedric Evina deceives fashionably bearded Vale keeper Jak
Alnwick and lands inside the far post, it feels like the consolation it
ultimately proves to be. Five minutes later Rovers are sloping off, heads down,
to find out what kind of hairdryer Darren Ferguson keeps in his matchday bag.
Apart from Leitch-Smith and Alnwick, there
were only two players in the squads I’d really heard of. One is Port Vale’s Trinidad and Tobago international, Chris Birchall. He got his 15
minutes of fame at the 2006 World Cup, as the first white player to represent the island nation in 50+ years. Sadly he doesn’t make tonight’s matchday
squad.
The other is Lynden Gooch, a rated
youngster
originally from the USA. On loan with Rovers from Sunderland, he isn’t
immediately impressive as a footballer, being square-bodied and unathletic in
appearance. He does however have a bit of pace on the ball, and a dribbling
style that’s tricky yet direct. I am put in mind of old school cult hero Robbie
Blake. Failing to produce much end product in this game, Gooch is nonetheless
promising, and his late-game combination with substitute Liam Mandeville offers
glimpses of a potentially subtle and cerebral partnership by League One
standards.
On
the pitch, this is a soporific and one-paced affair that leaves you wondering what
the point of it all is. In the stands however the Rovers loyal share no such
existential angst. They are the highlight of the evening and the Keepmoat traps
the noise they generate - making them seem greater in number than they really are, rather like the Spartiates
of Thermopylae. They seem bafflingly fond of the Eighties favourite “Spirit in
the Sky”, and at one stage indulge in a five minute rendition of it.
The matchday programme is one of the
dullest I’ve seen, but it does contain numerous tributes to the fans from
manager and players. So obviously the passion I saw is the rule, rather
than the exception.
My hotel is on the ring road (where else)
which means my night isn’t the silentest. Sleepy the next morning, I note only
that Doncaster has been more or less totally bypassed by the renovation wave
that’s hit British stations in the last fifteen years. One happy effect of this
has been to leave its pared-back art deco ticket hall in situ as an interesting example of depression-era cheap-chic.
Derelictia fans will be intrigued by the magnificently foreboding abandoned
nightclub/cinema directly opposite, which reminded me of last week’s trip to
Hull. Appropriate, as I'm getting an 'Ull Train 'ome.
