Live from Leatherhead

On Thursday afternoon, for work, I ‘attended’ a virtual industry awards ceremony that opened with the unpromising announcement: “And now, live from our studio in Leatherhead...” Just two days later, having never given this particular town in Surrey a second thought, I was there myself, watching an actual live football match.

The last time I did that was on March 7th, when I was at Selhurst Park to watch Watford demonstrate that the 3-0 win against Liverpool the previous week was a flash in the pan. It was a depressing afternoon, but as the subsequent months showed, it was still better than not being able to go to football matches at all.

So when my Brentford-supporting friend Stuart suggested a trip to Leatherhead to watch them kick off their Isthmian League Premier Division season against Horsham, I immediately agreed. And it was brilliant.

It was about 2pm when we got off the bus just across the River Mole from the ground, so we had plenty of time to stroll to a nearby pub and enjoy a pint of bitter in the garden. Then it was a short walk to the bucolically named Fetcham Grove, where we installed ourselves behind the goal in the home end, shaded from the sun by a corrugated iron roof; a bit like the old Rookery, but much smaller. (Later I noticed that it was called the Bernard Edwards Stand – presumably not after the Chic bassist, though you never know. Maybe the legacy of 70s disco lives on in this part of the Surrey commuter belt.)

While Stuart went to the bar to get us another pint, I read the programme, keeping a wary eye out for errant footballs, as the Horsham players were practicing their shooting just a few yards in front of me. It turns out that Horsham were officially formed in 1881 and are nicknamed the Hornets as the result of a competition among the fans. Sound familiar? Mind you, Horsham’s traditional colours are yellow and green – not a combination I’ve ever seen on a winged insect of any kind.

Nevertheless, when visiting a ground as a neutral, I regard it as good manners to support the home team. That decision looked sensible when Leatherhead scored in the first minute through a superb volley that curled into the top corner of the goal right in front of us, close enough that I heard the sound of the net rippling. After that they had a few more good chances to score, with the right winger pinging over some excellent crosses. Meanwhile Horsham won a succession of corners at the other end, most of which ended with a header soaring over the bar and out of the ground.

At half-time, we joined the Leatherhead ultras (half a dozen mouthy teenagers and a prematurely wizened middle-aged bloke in a replica shirt – every non-league club seems to have one of these) and relocated to the far end, this time leaning against the pitch-side fence to the right of the goal. Inevitably, we spent a certain amount of time checking our phones for news from Hillsborough and the Brentford Community Stadium, where Stuart should have been sitting in his new seat for the very first time. But we also watched as Horsham played their way back into the game, and inevitably made Leatherhead pay for their profligacy by equalising in the 81st minute. The last 10 minutes were predictably hectic, but 1-1 was the final score.

That wasn’t really the point, though, at least for me. It was just so nice to be standing in the autumn sunshine in a tree-lined stadium watching a proper, competitive football match, listening to the banter and watching the players pretending they couldn’t hear the abuse being hurled at them from close range. (Particular vitriol was reserved for one Horsham player who’d previously turned out for Dorking, Leatherhead’s much-hated local rivals.) During one lull in play, I watched as an oak leaf floated gently to the ground, landing close to the corner flag, and thought: “This is the life.”

I haven’t given up on Watford, of course; next Saturday, I’ll be sat here in my back bedroom following the action from Vicarage Road on Hive Live, even though the mere thought of playing Luton makes me nervous. But, as Stuart pointed out, there are plenty of non-league grounds to explore in south-west London and its hinterlands, and for as long as we can’t watch our actual teams in the flesh, this is the best  available alternative. If you’re missing live football, I suggest you check your local fixtures and do the same. You won’t regret it.