TT No.69: Andy Gallon - Tue 14th October 2008; Rothwell Corinthians v Newport Pagnell Town; UCL Prem Div; Res: 1-6; Att: 70 (h/c); Admission: £5 (incl 24pp programme); FGIF Match Rating: **** 
 
If I were ever to become so much of an anorak as to jot down a list of favourite grounds, Rothwell Corinthians' Sergeant's Lawn would be, to borrow a bit of manager speak, one of the first names on the sheet. It really is a belter, and affirms why we all enjoy a hobby as eccentric and irrational as travelling. As an aside, I've always been curious about the use of 'travelling' as a euphemism for groundhopping. Perhaps the close relationship between the words 'hopping' and 'mad' in our own minds - and possibly in those of the people close to us - has something to do with it.
 
I'll leave you to think that one over while I get back to the task in hand. I'd driven past Sergeant's Lawn on matchday a few years ago en route to Rothwell Town's Cecil Street home, on the other side of town. Had I known the former was so much more engaging than the latter, I would have visited the Corinths that evening in preference to the Bones. Its location, in a semi-rural spot on the edge of Rothwell, next to the Desborough Road, is interesting. I find endlessly fascinating the point at which country takes over from town. There's an unusual juxtaposition of the quiet and the unquiet. The ground is also well hidden - another appealing trait - and, if not for the floodlights, would be all but invisible to passing traffic. Parking, however, is a problem. If you don't get there as early as the players, the grass verge next to the main road will be chokka, leaving you to abandon your car, as many did this night, on the busy neighbouring thoroughfares. Thankfully, my driver's side wing mirror is in such a sorry state, I am beyond caring.
 
The low-key (now there's an understatement) main entrance is a metal gate in a line of shrubs. Utterly charming. A concrete footpath leads beneath the boughs of mature trees, many of whose leaves are an autumnal glistering gold, to a gap in the foliage and a wooden pay hut. Charm upon charm. You are now in the south-western corner of the ground. A red-brick single storey building - another pitched roof; I'd like to come across the odd flat one for variety, please - between the corner flag and goal at this near end houses the dressing rooms and the social club. There's a bar, a refreshment hatch and toilets in the bijou club, which has team pictures, trophies and sundry mementoes on its walls. There is a dedication plaque to Terry Smith, the honorary president of Corinths between 1982 and 2002. Its presence indicates the people here have their hearts in the right place. In the adjacent dressing rooms, the referee allows me access to the team sheets - but only after I promise solemnly to return them. He's had, he says, a few bad past experiences in the AWOL department. It seems some thoughtless travellers take souvenir collecting too far. A couple of ugly metal containers, presumably a home for the groundsman's equipment, complete the facilities at the west end, which backs on to a line of trees. To the rear is a field in which, for daytime games only, cars can be parked, providing some relief for residents.
 
Two small stands dominate the south touchline. Neither is more than 10 yards in length. The first is a simple propped cover over hardstanding; the second, slightly larger, offers three rows of plastic seats. Overhanging trees, not to mention fallen leaves, is a lovely feature. The dugouts, breeze block with perspex roofs, are on the other side of the halfway line. They are unusually low and compact. Not, I imagine, a haunt of choice for the claustrophobic. Perhaps that is why each technical area was replete with managers and their assistants throughout the game. At this point, I'll say I intended to watch the second half from here but the appalling language and acidic criticism directed towards the officials made me scuttle back to my earlier vantage point. It is a truth universally acknowledged that the FA's fledgling Respect campaign hasn't a cat in hell's chance of reaching maturity until some people in football grow up and shut up.
  
The far - east - end comprises a narrow strip of grass and is the only part of Sergeant's Lawn without concrete hardstanding. Thick trees help enclose the ground and add to the delightful 'village club' atmosphere. The splendidly appointed adjacent ground of Rothwell Town Cricket Club is concealed by the vegetation. You can, if you want, run the rule over it by climbing a fence in a gap in the trees. The largest of the football ground's three stands straddles the halfway line on the north side. Again, this is a simple propped cover over a couple of rows of white plastic seats. There is an Ossett Albion-style walkway to the rear. A large sign, red letters on a white background, on the fascia spells out the club's name. A training pitch lurks behind a perimeter fence of metal corrugated sheeting and, beyond that, cattle graze in a tussocky field. It really is a wonderful set-up. Even the Newport Pagnell people, over their half-time coffees in the social club, were purring appreciatively about Sergeant's Lawn's aesthetic merits. This bucolic enclosure proves that a collection of modern ingredients need not lack anything for whimsy and quirkiness.
 
Corinths, promoted from the First Division of the United Counties League in third place at the end of last season, are aiming - Stoke City fashion - for top-flight survival this time round. Before kick-off, they were fourth bottom and this crushing defeat will not have done much either for their prospects or their morale. They are a little behind where they would wish to be at this stage of the campaign. But there were, to return to the manager's lexicon, positives to take out of the game. Corinths were much the better team in the first half and dominated the opening exchanges. But, as the man on the entrance gate conceded, they cannot defend and Newport Pagnell led 2-0 at the break thanks to scoring from their only two goalbound efforts of note. That said, the manner in which the visiting Swans found the net four times in 12 minutes during the final quarter can only have alarmed the home fans. As a goal whore, I didn't mind a bit. That's 19 in my last three games. 
 
Andy White (twice) and Michael Coles went close to putting Rothwell ahead before the visitors stole into an undeserved lead, against the run play, in the 18th minute when Darren Lynch found a gap between Tony's Cross right hand and the post with a low shot on the turn following a Scott Mulhern cross. Six minutes later, it was 2-0. Danny Nicholls was allowed to drift lazily in from the right wing and he screwed back a tame shot which had the direction to squeeze past a wrongfooted Cross. Coles (26) wasted a great chance to close the deficit, heading wide with Swans keeper James Howarth a sitting duck in no-man's land as he flailed helplessly at one of many probing White crosses.
 
Coles (49) and team-mate Tony Ielapi (60) failed to net when well placed but the latter redeemed himself by clearing a glanced Lynch (65) header off the goalline. With 16 minutes left, Corinths got the break they needed. Howarth brought down Ben Johnson - surely the smallest man ever to wear a number five shirt - in the box and skipper Kevin Fox stroked home a confident penalty. A tight finish looked certain but the Swans were left preening after their astonishing late salvo. Richard Armstrong carved open the defence with a delicious pass which enabled Vinny Shrieves (76) to outwit Cross in a one-on-one, Lynch (82) showed singleminded aggression to head in a Rob MacDonald corner, MacDonald (86) saw persistence on the left side of the box pay off when he forced in the fifth and Shrieves (88) crowned a dazzling climax by capitalising on an awful defensive blunder to leave poor Cross fishing about in the back of his net yet again.
 
Whether Corinths can avoid the drop from the Premier Division is open to conjecture. They need to develop a backbone but their spirit seems sound. As for Sergeant's Lawn, and reaching in the wardrobe for my best anorak, I must now decide whether it comes before or after Boldmere St Michael's in my purely notional favourite ground rankings.
 

contributed on 15/10/08