A football ground with character

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<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">A (careful) step back in time</span></span></p>

<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span>No lighting, no internet and no electricity in the press box; an outdoor loo; being able to pat Dennis Wise on the head as he sat in the directors’ box a yard away. Barnsley is possibly the best football ground I’ve been to.</p>


A football ground with character</p>

I’m not being sarcastic or mocking with that statement, either - I am a northerner after all. There was just something romantic about Oakwell,without the place being too much of a throwback to a bygone era. It’s another of these places that I vaguely call “proper football grounds”. I’d love to see it full some day.</p>

It helps to be in such a lovely setting – rolling hills made for the perfect autumnal background, rather like at Turf Moor in Burnley – but there was more to it than that. Things like having four proper stands with their matching red seats and gaps in the corners to let the wind whistle through.</p>

The West Stand in which the press box was situated is the oldest, dating back to the 1900s, and so had the most character. Maybe it was the wooden floor, maybe it was the fact that the stand was half-empty despite the gravity of the match, but it was all making me drift back to some childhood experience.</p>

Anyway, as I settled down with my restricted leg-room to watch an exciting Yorkshire derby unfold, an added bonus appeared in the shape of little Wisey, the new Leeds manager, sat next to Gwyn Williams, the Leeds technical director, in the directors’ box which was situated immediately in front of the press box.</p>

As Wise’s assistant, Gus Poyet, took his position at the away team’s dugout, he suddenly turned to seek out his good friend, his eyes scanning the stand as Wise and Williams waved to attract his attention. Ah, there he is. Kisses were blown, Wise plugged in an earpiece, off we went.</p>

He didn’t last long, and I’m not sure it was anything to do with the team’s efforts on the pitch. Ten minutes in, with Leeds in a position to try a set-piece from the training ground, Wise began chattering into his radio link.</p>

The chatter gradually got louder. And louder. And louder. Then he was on his feet screaming, something about someone attacking the ball. It was at this point that I decided to shamelessly foist myself on the spare seat in the front row of the press box to eaves drop, but from then on – typical isn’t it? – Wise, sat just yards away, was a lot more reserved. And on the half-hour he scampered down to pitch level anyway.</p>

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Breakdown in communications, eh? I have to say I’m not surprised. The problem was probably that he was trying to get through to Poyet on the phone pictured above. On being shown to the press box by a helpful club employee before kick-off, I tripped over the piece of classic Seventies telecommunication equipment and nearly broke my ankle.</p>

The pain quickly subsided when I saw what I had stepped on. Fantastic. There was even another one further down the row in that classic browny-grey colour that all telephones used to come in. I half-expected to see some operating instructions introduced by Busby.</p>

“Does it work?” I asked.</p>

“Oh no, I shouldn’t think so,” replied Mr Barnsley. Then he manfully reached down to lift the receiver to give it a go for me. “No, it’s dead. If you need a phone line or a plug you’ll have to sit down there with t’radio fellas.”</p>

“No I don’t need a line. I just thought you could get a packet for it on eBay.”</p>

Blank stare. I’m not sure they have eBay in Barnsley.</p>

I have to say the lack of lighting was a bit of a pain. At this time of year it’s obviously dark before the full-time whistle, and trying to read Daniel Nardiello’s stats in tiny red print in the club programme is not easy in without illumination. Lucky for me I found a pink Barbie glow stick in my bag. My daughter must have left it there. Honest.</p>

But it was a great trip – and a great result on the pitch for us journalists. It was just a shame cuddly Ken Bates hadn’t been in the directors’ box to chew the cud with us at the final whistle. Or Dickie Bird, for that matter. As Barnsley’s most famous fan, he’ll love Oakwell almost as much as I do.</p>http://blogs.telegraph.co.uk/sport/stewartjackson/nov06/stepbackintime.htm
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