TT No.130: Andrew Gallon - Tue 27th November 2007; St Ives Town v Holbeach United; UCL Prem Div;    Res: 3-1; Att: 60 (h/c); Admission: £4 (including 28pp programme); FGIF Match Rating: 4*

 
Historic St Ives must be one of the most appealing destinations on the United Counties League circuit, and comes as a soothing balm to the traveller left despairing and depressed by the insipid dullness of Rushden, Raunds and Wellingborough. Stand next to the floodlit 15th Century Town Bridge on a still, misty autumn afternoon, watch the majestic River Great Ouse slip silently through its graceful stone arches and be at peace with the world. It's a timeless scene captured on the canvases of countless artists over many years - and no wonder. The bridge, built on a flint reef midstream, has a rare surviving example of a bridge chapel in its centre. The quays here were once a hive of activity, with stevedores unloading livestock and goods for sale in the busy High Street market. That's all gone, leaving the riverbank a perfect place for quiet contemplation. The old mill on the far bank has been turned into waterside apartments for the wealthy. This is where inventor Sir Clive Sinclair launched a revolution in 1972 to rival that of local lad Oliver Cromwell several centuries earlier by designing and manufacturing the first pocket calculator. Success, and all that cash, clearly went to Sir Clive's head. He then came up with the preposterous C5 and, along with his madcap invention, was consigned quickly to obscurity.
 
The High Street, a chain-free haven of attractive shops, pubs and restaurants, is two minutes' walk from the broad sheen of the Great Ouse. It's mostly Georgian and, despite the vandalism perpetrated by modern shopfitters, retains an air of elegance. Cromwell, who farmed here in the 1630s before discovering he liked fighting Royalists rather more, stands guard over one end. The old Puritan died in 1658 but St Ives didn't get round to erecting a statue to the chap until 1901. The river runs alongside the other end of the High Street by the Norris Museum in a particularly pleasing stretch overlooked by the tall spire of the parish church of All Saints. I don't visit many places I'd fancy living but I believe this could be one.
 
The football ground, inevitably, finds itself in less exalted company and a more mundane setting. Westwood Road twists, turns and narrows until running out of puff in a large car park serving the adjacent leisure centre and secondary school. Both bear the name St Ivo; both are utilitarian red-brick monstrosities. St Ives, apparently,  changed its name from Slepe when the body of St Ivo, said to be a Persian bishop, was found buried in the town. The club's functional ground is to the right, beyond a belt of steepling poplars. There's enough to stir one's interest, without putting any strain on the pulse. The access road, running along the bottom of the car park, leads through a metal gate and past a large pay hut, which may well, in a previous life, have seen service at the foot of someone's garden. You are now in the bottom-right corner, with the ground up and away to the left. The tarmac bends left to run behind the near goal, with fans free to park on the grass verge by the poplars. A hardstanding path is laid right round the pitch - but not at this end.
 
The main stand, if it actually matches that job description, straddles the halfway line of a pitch which slopes away slightly towards the opposite touchline, mimicking the gradient of the leisure centre car park. The near portion features a players' tunnel tacked on to the side of the flat-topped structure, a refreshment hatch and a somewhat spartan social club and function room. Acres of magnolia in there. Six metal poles support a narrow canopy over a few steps of terracing, with a couple of wooden benches comprising the seating arrangements. The far portion is an uncovered extension of the terracing. The front section is painted white, with fixtures and fittings in black; the rear section left plain red brick. The whole thing is set back from the white railing pitch barrier beyond a five-yard strip of concrete. There are, curiously, three breeze-block dugouts, painted black, in front and then a decent area of turf before the near touchline. The effect is to make one feel a little remote from the action. Behind stands the school.
 
Tangled grass, beyond the hardstanding, runs round the remainder. The far end backs on to unkempt trees and shrubs, and an estate of semis. Opposite the main stand is a newer stand, about 30 yards long and built from brick. As designs go, it's as basic as it gets. A propped, flat roof - rather neatly painted in black and white stripes along the fascia - shelters three wide steps of terracing. There is a row of blue and red plastic tip-up seats, in varying states of repair, on the first two and standing room only at the rear. Behind is more turf and a line of conifers running the length of the touchline. The floodlights are masts. There are four per side, with most having two lamps. The ground, even with the trees, feels very open.
 
Most road trips in Lincolnshire are difficult and, in a number of instances, downright dangerous. The bulk of Holbeach's players, arriving in a fleet of cars, clearly had problems negotiating their county's byways because they were so late getting to Westwood Road they didn't have time to warm up. It meant the visitors started  slowly and were soon 2-0 down. Simon Claridge (18) and Saints skipper Will Fordham (23) were both picked out unmarked by crosses from the right and steered powerful headers past an exposed Nick Conroy. The Tigers keeper then did well to turn an Ian Fovargue 20-yarder round a post and, from the resulting corner, did even better to batter away a point-blank Claridge header. The game needed a Holbeach reply desperately, and got one in the 34th minute. Liam Nimmo, one of the top scorers in this league, made space on the right to cross low to the near post and Lee Orrey stole in ahead of his marker to scramble the ball over the line from close range.
 
Plenty of blood and sweat in the early stages of an even second half - the tears turned up in the 70th minute. Liam Kennett played Scott Fielding through on the right flank and he broke clear from halfway, drawing Conroy before squaring for sub Max Francis-Johnson to tap into an empty net. Fielding may, or may not, have been offside. The Tigers bench certainly thought he was, and their manager launched into a sweary tantrum  worthy of an adolescent whose plans for a holiday with his mates have just been given the thumbs down by mum and dad. All to no avail, of course. The goal stood and Saints were able to go fifth in a league table as congested, between first and 13th places, as the M25 on a Friday night.
 
Not the most inspiring of grounds but St Ives, as a town, more than compensates. Do yourself a favour and allow a couple of hours to wander round before kick-off. The last three Premier Division grounds on my 'tick list' for this league are Long Buckby, Stewarts & Lloyds Corby and AFC Kempston Rovers. I'm not expecting the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, of course, but went to St Ives with expectations less than great - and was pleasantly surprised. So, you never know. And that's the joy of this game, eh?
 

contributed on 28/11/07