Seeing the Light

In the last few months of fixtures I've attended, I've had three instances of floodlight failure delaying a fixture, having seen not a single one in the hundreds of fixtures attended in my 26 years.

The first was a brief delay of around 15 minutes between Ware and Hertford Town after half-time - it happens, nothing to write home about. The second, an even briefer delay in Stevenage’s home fixture against Sutton United, which led to an inexplicable 8 minutes of stoppage time. Naturally we conceded during those eight minutes in classic Stevenage fashion.

It happened again in Barrow, but this time things looked a lot more perilous. The mere switching on of a floodlight at 4pm brought even more joy than any goal has done or will do this season.

Allow me to explain why…

A life spent following Stevenage around offers little reward, which I’m sure it doesn’t take a genius to work out. That said, the trip to Barrow was to involve the final groundhopping tick in League Two, at least until any clubs with grounds I’ve not been to yet get promoted or relegated next season. The final piece of the puzzle and it probably couldn’t have been a worse one to finish it all.

That’s not to criticise the town itself, which wasn’t as awful as I’d heard it to be. The people of Barrow were incredibly friendly too, from the fans down to the staff. I expected some animosity because of the 2010 FA Trophy Final controversy, but I guess winning such a fixture would generally make one feel less inclined to hold any major grudges. I also have to commend the woman in the ticket office for opting to dust off the ‘FA TROPHY WINNERS 2010’ hat, quite possibly for the first time since 2010…

We entered Holker Street to be greeted with news of a 15-minute delay due to floodlight issues. Not to worry, it’ll be fine. Then we reached 3.15, 3.30, 3.45. No updates. The panic set in that I may not complete League Two this season. I might need to come back to Barrow. Possibly on a Tuesday night having used all of my holiday up until April. Even some of the Barrow fans I’d spoken to didn’t want to spend a Tuesday night in Barrow!

Needless to say, basing an entire weekend around a trip to Barrow to finish League Two, only to take in absolutely no football would have been enough to tip me over the edge. Going through a place named Giggleswick on the train in vain. Maybe that’s what The Clash song of the same name is about. Having endured possibly the worst possible couple of months to date, failure on this front was unthinkable.

Then from a bar in the home end we’d been kindly escorted to, I saw the light. That is to say the glorious, almost green light emanating from the now fixed floodlights. Game on! Ninety minutes after intended, but game on. The fact that conditions remained light at 5pm when the game would have definitely finished was an additional kick in the teeth, but it had been confirmed. Barring another intervention from a higher or lower power, I’d finished League Two.

But what about the game itself? Well, it was unsurprisingly very goalless. Barrow probably should have been 3-0 up at the break, but they weren’t. They had a man sent off after half-time, which gradually changed the game in Boro’s favour, but not enough for them to break the deadlock. The craziest moment was probably Boro’s best shot at goal, hitting another ball on the pitch and going out for…an uncontested drop ball for ex-Boro ‘keeper Paul Farman in the Barrow goal. 

Last year, I wrote a short story about dy
ing and going to limbo, in which the character in question ends up sitting in a bar watching an eternal goalless draw, unable to ascend or descend into heaven or hell until a goal is scored. I can honestly say I didn’t expect life to imitate art in such a brutal manner.

Until next time, Barrow, which I respectfully hope is never.