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PaN haNdlers
The football season has started... in earnest
I spent the first half of the first home
game of the season, against Thurrock,
doing an interview with a reporter
from the Arg<strong>us</strong>, while keeping half my
attention on the match in progress in
front of <strong>us</strong>.
It took nearly half an hour to explain
the intricacies of the situation. About
how the club was on its last legs at
the end of last season, and in danger
of going b<strong>us</strong>t on its 125th birthday.
About how I’d been approached in
April by a group calling itself ‘Rooks
125’, intent on saving the day by
turning the club into a communityowned
organisation. About how
I’d been wooed into joining them,
alongside my b<strong>us</strong>iness partner,
Nick. And about the heady last few
months, in which talk had turned
into negotiations, negotiations into
takeover, and takeover into a handson
day-to-day running of the club.
The lads – our lads – were battling
away in front of <strong>us</strong>, then, as she took
notes in a diligent shorthand, and I
tried to remember all the points I
needed to stress. That kids go free
into the ground. That we’ve turned
down the opportunity to earn money
from shirt sponsorship by giving the
space to Lewes Victoria Hospital.
That we’re hoping there will be a
‘community bump’ in the crowds, as
the townspeople start appreciating
the way things are going, as they start
realising it’s <strong>now</strong> their club.
w w w. V I VA l E w E s . C o M
F o o t B A l l
“How big a crowd are you expecting tonight,” she asked, as our
young teenage star George Jones picked up the ball in midfield, and
whipped in a delicio<strong>us</strong> curling cross.
“I reckon there are about…” I muttered, watching Lewis Ide rise up
and head the ball… into the net.
It took me a while to answer the question. I stood up, raised my
arms, one hand still holding the last dregs of a pint of Harveys
Olympia. And I yelled, into the evening sky: “Yes. Yes. Yes!”
When I sat down she was looking at me with a strange expression
on her face. She’d j<strong>us</strong>t witnessed my reaction to the first goal in a
new era for the club I love. She’d j<strong>us</strong>t witnessed raw passion; utter
delight.
“Sorry about that,” I said. There were, and I’m not exaggerating
here, tears in my eyes.
“Um…” I said. “What were you asking?”
“How many people do you reckon are here?”
I had a pretty good idea, beca<strong>us</strong>e I’d been watching the fans come
in, throughout the evening, and I’d been delighted to see how many
had turned up.
“About 600,” I said. “Which is bloody brilliant.”
As it happened, I was one out: the crowd was, in fact, 601. And that
was bloody brilliant, 250 more than the corresponding game last
season, on a Wednesday night, in Aug<strong>us</strong>t, with loads of people still
on holiday. A great result, then, one of two that night. We ended up
winning 2-1. Alex Leith
photo: James boyes
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