Any Given Sunday

Mansfield Lodge Hotel  4  Rifle Volunteer  1

Mansfield Sunday League – Stamper Cup First Round

Admission / Programme – No / No

Remember the other week when I was waxing lyrical about the joys of Sunday League football after a visit to East Leake based Rempstone?

You do, well, let me bring things back down to earth with the harsh, but brilliant reality of Sunday mornings on the local parks of our wonderful Country, and why the other end of the spectrum is equally as much fun, in a different kind of way.

Firstly, Sunday football in the UK is very different to Sunday football in some of our continental cousins homelands. For example, take the Netherlands, a Country I know well, have friends in, and have seen many games in. They have Sunday football, which is equally as good as Saturday football, in fact it’s exactly the same, and the determining factor as to whether you play on a Saturday or a Sunday is religion. You don’t play on both!

In the UK, Sunday football is typically associated with drinking establishments, teams go by the names up pubs, in fact the main Sunday League in Derby is called the Derby Taverners League, I’m not sure whether being a devoted drinker is a pre-requisite of being allowed to play in the said competition or not, but it may well have been at some point!

So, like it or not, in our Country, Sunday football is often referred to as ‘Pub Football’, it does have slightly derogatory connotations, but of course, some pub teams are better than other pub teams. That said, if you want to really insult a Saturday team, call them a ‘Pub Team’ in a public domain and just wait for the backlash!

Mansfield Lodge Hotel v Rifle Volunteer, yes, we have a couple of proper pub teams, playing a cup tie in the Mansfield Sunday League, on Mansfield Racecourse. But why did I go? Simple, did you read the recent Notts Olympic v Buyglass.co Reindeer blog? Well, Mansfield Racecourse is in fact the home of the aforementioned glass / reindeer combo side who were formerly known as FC Mansfield, and, I’d never been before.

Seeing as games were played on the Racecourse on a Sunday, and with it being a short drive away up the A38, I thought I’d while away a wet and windy Sunday morning with a little trip to see a game.

Mansfield Racecourse is the sort of place you would never have heard of, never have seen, or never knew actually existed, unless you’d been to it! To get to it you head out of the town centre on the A6191 towards Rainworth, then on your left hand side enclosed on all four sides by housing is the said venue. It comprises of a few football pitches, a cricket pitch, tennis courts, a kids play area, dressing rooms, and, get this, a pub called the Pavilion!

The pub was shut when I arrived, but thankfully, after fun and games trying to find a parking space due to some kids games going on, I managed to wander onto the facility and spotted the signs of adult footballers carrying nets and corner flags from the dressing rooms down to the very far end where the game was being played.

The pitch was nestled into the very bottom corner, with a path down one side, and then behind the goal and part way down one side was a grass bank that offered elevated views of the proceedings, albeit from a distance away. I took up residence, and waited, waited for the away team to get eleven players on the pitch! At kick off time (11am) they had six, by ten past they were up to nine, and then as another car arrived, by quarter past we had the full quota!

I’ll be honest, the game wasn’t the greatest you will see, on a bobbly surface, taking into account it was a windy day, it was full of effort and endeavour, but not high on quality. That said though, a decent number turned up to watch it, more than had been at Rempstone the other week.

The hosts won 4-0, and by the time the fourth goal went in the visitors had pretty much given up and reduced their efforts to a walking pace. For some, thoughts had turned to the pub and the afternoon session, the Stamper Cup dream was well and truly over for another year!

Pub football at it’s British best, players turning up late, carrying out the nets and the flags, cans of lager being cracked open on the touchline, a fag at half time, a referee that never leaves the centre circle, and of course the obligatory row between team mates which usually ends up with someone being called a ‘fu**ing bell end’ for having the audacity to question someone’s ability or effort. It had all of this and more, and, the same will happen all over again, at the same time next week.

 Sometimes, you can’t take things too seriously in life, can you……