The second part of my sporting trio today was the 'meat in the sandwich'. A regional fourth division game about forty minutes from Prague by train. Cesky Brod versus Decin. As luck would have it the station of departure was directly across the road from my hostel so I bought a ticket this morning, in case there were queues, or time was tight. As it happens neither, but nothing wrong with 'being prepared' as old Baden Powell taught the Scouts.
I was an 8th Camberwell one myself, but I had to leave in my last year of the cubs, when I was eleven. I hadn't done anything naughty, but the 8th met on a Tuesday evening. I think cubs were six til seven; & then the older scouts were eight til nine, or something like that. The problem for me was I was always bunking off when the Hamlet had a midweek game. Now I don't know if you are aware,but there is a bit of discipline and hierachy in the scouting movement. For cubs the pack was split into little groups, of which the name escapes me, but there was a 'leader' in each one, and then a deputy below that boy. Think of it as a 'captain' & 'assistant' in a sports team, sort of thing.
During my last year in the cubs, which was 1977/78 if you're thinking football, I was called aside by Akela, who was the person in charge of the whole group. Here we go, I thought, I'm going to get kicked out. But no, I was being given 'one last chance'. He knew the Hamlet meant a lot to me, but I could still go every Saturday. If I showed commitment to the cubs I would be made a sixer next week, which would hold me in good stead for the move up to the scouts the following year. Cor! Me? A 'Sixer'?
One 'slight problem'. Dulwich Hamlet had been relegated the previous season, and were involved in a three horse race, for the two promotion spots, wirh Bromley, Ilford and ourselves. (Although they both ended up blowing out, and we went up as champions, with Oxford City runners up) And the following Tuesday night we were away to Bromley in a first versus second clash! So that was the end of my scouting life. We won by a lone goal at Hayes Lane. A second half strike from Ron Bexley, who got a 'bad press' from a large proportion of the Dulwich followers at the time. He wasn't booed, or anything like that, he just wasn't rated.
As you can probably guess, I made the right choice, and was at Bromley rather than St. Thomas More Hall in Lordship Lane,East Dulwich that night. It was nil nil at half time, and as the players trooped off I handed a birthday card, with a six verse poem inside, to Ron Bexley. It was his 21st brithday! And he celebrated it by getting the winner, presumably after he'd read the card! He must've talked to the local rag, as a few days later, in the Friday edition of the 'South London Press', our headline was ' Ron's just the card for Dulwich! ' But even back then they cocked it up. I was a 'young girl fan' according to the report. Presumably they couldn't get their head round how a young boy could worship a footballer! Was he my first crush? Who knows...I wouldn't have even known what a 'crush' back then...!
Enough of my childhood. Fast forward to the 24th of October 2009...and it's MY birthday. 43 today. Which I had completely forgotten about, not thinking about it once, until I got off the train at Cesky Brod station, and glancing up at the 'departures' board, it had todays date on it. And I thought 'bloody hell, it's my birthday today'. No emotion really, just a strange small wave of happiness. That I was in a nondescript place in the Czech Republic, on my way to a football match, and another new ground! As I walked down the road I'm even quietly singing 'happy birth to me!' to myself!
Well, hopefully on to a new ground. It was about an hour to kick off, but I had no idea where the stadium was! Usually there is a town map of sorts somewhere by the main station building, but I couldn't find one here. But out of that misfortune came some good. Taped up onto the wall outside was a match poster for the match, giving the name of the ground. The poster says: Fotbalovy Stadion Na Kutilice, so I guess that's where I'm looking for. I take it down as a souvenir, and for something to point at, if I am lost, and head toward the town centre, if 'town centre' be the right word. Cesky Brod is a very small place, with a population of less than seven thousand. Coming from London, where you can add another three noughts, this is tiny! It's also a total dump, and I'm not one to be too judgemental of places. There is nothing here of any note.
A church stands in a square, in what I presume is the 'hub' of the place. There are a few small shops dotted around, mostly closed. Just past the church I find my saviour. Not a person, but the town map. After getting my bearings and jotting down the names of streets, continue along Palackeho....left at Rokycanova....right at Rohacova....Well that was the idea. Unfortunately it seems the locals are still in 'confuse the Germans during the War' mode & had taken them all down, actual street signs being few and far between. I realised I didn't have a scooby as to my location, other than it was vaguely somewhere to my left, when the houses and council blocks on my left stopped and there was fields.
Time was ticking towards kick off, and while I wasn't panicking yet, I was starting to mildly worry! Retracing my steps I saw a man walking towards me, and I tentatively asked if he spoke English. Thankfully he did 'a little'. I love it when your Johnny Foreigner types say 'a little'. What they mean is a million times better than you speak my language! Not surprising in this place he knew were the ground was, and was heading partly in that direction. He asked me why I was going there. I thought 'oh shit, have I got the wrong day?' & told him I was going to the football match. He responded by querying 'But why Cesky Brod? They are rubbish?' Rather than bother to explain what an English groundhopper abroad was, I just blustered that it was the nearest match to Prague & that I was on holiday. I'm not sure he would have understood...
'Walk down to the end, and it's next to the swimming pool', he said pointing, as I thanked him.
And it was, with only ten minutes before kick off. I paid at the entrance, 30 Kc, and another five for a basic, but welcome, 8 page black & white A5 effort. Can't understand a word of it, but it's the league table I'm looking for . Cesky Brod are second, but got stuffed 6-1 away to league leaders SK Jirny the week before. Todays opponents are in seventh place, and seven points behind. So I'm not making any predictions.
Nor am I one to tell you about the opening goal, after only a couple of minutes, when I wasn't really paying attention, busy taking snaps of the ground, and I'll be honest & say I missed it!
It won't be the first time I've not seen a goal at a game I've been at, and it won't be the last. By the time I've gone round to the main stand on the far side I decide to take a pew, and take a bit more interest in the happenings on the pitch.
As the game continues the Cesky Brod crowd are not happy. Clearly, as far as they are concerned, they should not be losing to opposition like Decin. It's not a concerted unhappiness. No booing, or anything like that. But more a series of 'aah's, as in 'what a load of rubbish' each time they waste a scoring opportunity. It's not until just over twenty minutes into the match that there's the real cheer & an 'ooh!' when a shot goes just wide of the post. They continue to press and just after the half hour mark comes their best chance so far. A corner is floated in which is met by a poweful goalbound shot. But it's deflected by a visiting defender, who I don't think knew much about it, the jammy sod!
The equaliser comes in the 34th minute, after a succession of corners, with one of them leading to a goal with Josef Kozak getting the touch.
It's not been a dirty game so far, so there's been no need for anything as serious as a stretcher. One is brought onto the pitch, as a precaution, after a late challenge, and the player is looked at by the trainers. They check out his leg, or maybe it's his ankle, and he's placed onto an old fashioned canvas, army surplus type stretcher. With two wooden handles at either end. They lift him up, one bloke at each end, and they then proceed to carry him off. Almost a disaster, as the man at the rear drops one corner, and the poor player starts to slide, but the first aider manages to grab the stetcher just before he came tumbling off! So close to a cracking 'Fred Scuttle' comedy moment!
At half time I finish off my photographing of the ground, marveling at how 'fashionable' garish, shellsuits are still 'fashionable' for pensioners in these parts! And then sit back in the stand. The second half sees Cesky Brod the better team, but it takes a penalty to give them all three points, after the visiting keeper pulls someone down, gets a yellow card for his trouble and Michal Kopecky scores from the spot with just over twenty minutes left on the clock.
After the game I take another, shorter route back to the station. There's nothing much to see around here, I stop to look at the war memorial. The only other thing of note is an electrical shop (closed, of course) It has it's wares in one window, but it's the other one that is a time warp delight. Packed with old fashioned appliances, almost like a mini museum, from the nineteen fifties or earlier. On the other hand maybe this is all they had before the Russians went home...
I wait for my train back to Prague. The sun is setting & it's starting to get dark. I am, at this very moment, stuck in the middle of nowhere, there's hardly any other passengers on my platform. Over on the other are two young soldiers drinking and smoking. Perhaps doing their national service & on home leave for the wekeend. The waiting room is shut, the station grim, rusting and in need of a lick of paint. It might seem a bit grim...
But you know what? At this very moment in time I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. I've just seen a fairly decent match, at least up to Isthmian Premier standard, at a quirky, homely ground & I am just so contented and have a happy, warm glow inside. I reflect that, yes I am forty three years old today, and I've done something I really enjoy. Visiting new grounds and taking photos. What I lack through not much money in my pocket you simply cannot buy. It's called being sober and not drinking. For if I was still boozing my life away I would never have the opportunity to go to places like Cesky Brod, no matter how dull they seem.
No, it's not been a bad day at all. Now for my train back to Prague. no more football for the day, but I'm off to a sport I've never seen before. Usually, if I've no football to go to in an evening when in the Czech Republic, I go to watch ice hockey. But no luck there either. So I'm off to
SSK Future to see a floorball match!
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