I arrived fashionably late at Broad Lane. No shit. Same as it ever was. I heard a lame cheer as I was locking my bicycle up. The Wiv cheer is often lame, but not as lame as this. Ah, so Needham Market Reserves must have scored. Arse. Whatever.
It was a murky, dull January afternoon across the bloody Estuary Wilds. I struggled a little with the light and photography. It’s best to focus on some of the characters, rather than the action shots. I was helped by a trip of Dad’s Army recruits as the officials. To be fair, the three Men in Black had a decent afternoon.
Needham Market Reserves were very young, and very skilful. They played a beautiful passing game, compared to the more hit it and hope effort from the Dragons. Fitness was also always going to come into this game. I feared for Wivenhoe with each passing minute.
The Dragons had their chances, but they weren’t hitting the target. I felt sorry for the fella heading back and forth, retrieving lost footballs from the car park.
The atmosphere picked up a little at the start of the second half. It was helped by standing next to a couple who were rolling up the most delightful tobacco. It wasn’t THAT type of roll up, but it did add a sweet smell along the empty terraces.
Having missed the first goal from Needham, I might as well miss the second. I was too busy tapping in the above para into my phone. It’s not called a Crap Match Report for nothing, Comrades.
We had to do a runner with the score at 2-0, and five minutes left in the game. Work shifts back at base, and the Forest game on the telly were both calling.
A brief look on X, and BLOODY HELL - the final score was Wivenhoe 1, Needham 3. And so I missed all four goals. Still, a decent game. I’m becoming rather fond of Wivenhoe Town these days.
