Illustration by Matt Littler
Returning to non-League after 2020’s enforced absence heightened the senses of matchday, as told in this extract from the new book The Silence of the Stands
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From wide-eyed innocence to twilight years at a laid-back non-League match – Ian Plenderleith has seen what lies ahead and he doesn’t mind at all
The words “Football League” must evoke painful memories for all concerned on a bleak afternoon in Cumbria, with the limelight just a fading memory for the hosts and the visitors struggling one year on, writes Harry Pearson
In the Borough Park clubhouse, a middle-aged woman in a yellow-and-black Boston United scarf leans across to a vast, elderly Pilgrims fan who is tucking into a polystyrene tray of pasty and chips like he hasn’t eaten since the end of rationing. “You been here before?” she asks. The man shakes his head, cheeks bulging with potatoes and pastry. The woman glances quickly from left to right. “Bit bleak, isn’t it?” she whispers. The big man grins sadly, nods and stuffs more food in his mouth.
Dear WSC
In response to a letter published about the term “mullered” (Letters, WSC 228) and the origins of the word, at the risk of turning WSC into an episode of Balderdash & Piffle, I always felt it appropriate for the term to be linked to fabled West Germany forward Gerd Müller and the team of the early 1970s. Despite being too young to recall “Der Bomber” in his heyday, checking out old videos of him in action (hardly ever leaving the penalty area in a fashion Gary Lineker could only dream of) and a check of his goalscoring feats – 68 goals in only 62 international matches – it seems to tally with my favoured definition of “mullered”, to be comprehensively beaten in a surprising and unimaginative manner. The only other time I have heard of the term “mullered” is in relation to drinking too much alcohol which, sadly, may be linked to the end of Gerd’s career.
Jonathan Paxton, via email