Collective Homecoming

Guest blog from Outside Left

Clapton CFC Home 3 Clapton CFC Away 5
Old Spotted Dog Test Event
Tuesday 19^th April 2022
Attendance: 400

Some genuine Clapton legends – veterans of the old, Old Spotted Dog era – took to the field on Tuesday night in the shape of: Jerry Jairette, Dean Bouho and James Briggs. Some established stars of CCFC too: Sophia Axelsson, Jack Francis, Susana Ferreira, Dan Anfossy, Chelsie Sparks and Iris Pope (and that was just the GK Union representation!) The two sides were bolstered by The Future Stars of Clapton from the Men’s and Women’s Development squads. (We won’t mention the assorted hangers-on who bluffed their way onto the squad list… well, not yet!)

However, the real heroes of Tuesday night’s OSD homecoming weren’t on the pitch. The real heroes were the plethora of volunteers who had made the evening possible. Not just in the immediate run-up to this match, but for the entire four-year history of the club.

These are the people who made it happen. It would be impossible (and scary) to add together the hours that these volunteers have spent readying the club for this moment. There are so many people who have given so much to Clapton Community FC. I’d love to name them all, but I fear I’d forget someone’s contribution and – there’s the real possibility that there are people I haven’t even realised have contributed so much because they just go about their business in the background, wanting neither fuss nor recognition.

There were also important people in this process who were unable to attend the match due to moving away, other commitments or the dreaded ‘rona. They need a special mention as they didn’t even get to witness the first fruits of their collective labour. Their time will come, that’s for sure.

If we are opening it up even further, there are people who were instrumental in the early days of CCFC who have taken a step back or had their disagreements with how things have developed. They are part of this story too. Their contributions are not forgotten.

Then there’s the rest of the community: supporters, members (including those who have signed-up and supported the club despite knowing they are never likely to set foot in East London), neighbours, community groups, or anyone that has contributed towards the various fund-raisers for the clubhouse roof, the changing rooms or the hardship fund. It’s been a collective effort that has resulted in Tuesday night’s collective outpouring of joy.  

It’s also been a tough and exhausting season for the various groups and committees that keep all the Clapton CFC plates spinning. Getting the clubhouse fit-for-purpose, and the additional funding required for the new changing rooms have left everyone running on empty. That’s before you take into account running the various actual football teams and getting to two (possibly three) cup finals. You do start to worry for some of the more active volunteers’ mental and physical well-being. We need to look out for each other. The threat of burnout is real.

But Tuesday night was a time to celebrate (amid the logistical nightmare of running a test event at your new home venue). And celebrate we did!

People had been at the OSD for most of the day. Me and Bess arrived at about 6:30pm after a mammoth three-and-a-half-hour battle across London (the M25 clockwise was shut, the North Circular plagued with accidents and all its approach roads clogged with people following the same google maps alternative route suggestions. It was the sort of gridlock that brought people out onto their doorsteps to witness). However, it was worth it.

By the time we arrived, an eery mix of calm and nervous anticipation circulated amongst the volunteers. We were in limbo with all the major jobs done, but the gates not yet open for spectators. This was it though: we were running our own ground for our own club, not just fans or tenants anymore, owners. Terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure.

I’d not been back to The Dog since that glorious day between lockdowns in 2020 when we were handed the keys. What greeted us then was unrecognisable from the ground that stood before us tonight. Gone was the long tangle of grass complete with foxholes and fox shit; back then it was more waste ground than football. It all comes back to those thousands of hours of volunteer time again…

I’d signed Bess up to the gate. To be fair, it was a tougher gig than anticipated: trying to match the names of ticket holders to the list (apparently, a lot of people had just signed up as “Dave”. “Dave what?” “No, just Dave.”) Also, being on the gate, means you miss most the match (see also bar staff). But Bess and Yamina did have the added perk of befriending all the non-league dogs that rocked up (with or without tickets).

Our photographer’s brief came direct from Tommaso: “lots of crowd shots, don’t bother with the football”. It was sage advice because today was all about the people in the stands and the friendships and bonds that have been created in the run-up to this moment.

Of course, there was a lot of sentiment and emotion attached to returning to The Scaffold. For many, it is a spiritual home. What surprised me on the night was the number of Tons’ fans for whom this was their first proper taste of the Old Spotted Dog. There’s a fair number of people involved with CCFC who only got actively involved post-boycott, post-OSD.

I’d count myself in this number. I’d been two or three times to the OSD but I certainly never felt confident enough to stand in the heart of the scaffold, instead hanging around on its periphery nervous of all the die-hards with the drums, the chants and the pyro. My Clapton experience has mostly been at Wadham Lodge. The Stray Dog feels most like home to me, I’ll miss the place. This ‘new’ home will take a bit of getting used to. I was surprised that this was the same for a significant number of other people that I’d assumed had been around since the days of the OSD and the Clapton Ultras. The great thing about our new home is that there is space for all of us. It’s our collective homecoming.

The B.U.C. took up position on the newly cleared terracing behind the far goal. They treated us to the usual non-stop singing, some great pyro and a decent firework display. The rest of the support positioned themselves in The Scaffold and proceeded to sing their hearts out to the rhythm of the OSD Hound System. There was a steady stream of people getting a drink at the bar (great work Annu, Joe Clapton and others). The atmosphere was incredible, it only intensified as the light began to fade replaced, instead, by the distant glow of our 40w floodlights mixed with omnipresent smoke from the pyro. It gave the night a Dickensian feel; an atmosphere that perhaps offered a bridge between past and present. In the enveloping gloam who’s to say that it wasn’t heroes of eras past ghosting their way along the far touchline with the ball? It felt like that kind of evening. Historic.

I had done a deal with the devil (aka Stu Purcell) to get myself on the squad list for the game. I had specifically requested a two-minute cameo around the full-time mark. In truth, I just wanted to get a chance to warm-up on the pitch and kick the ball around a bit with the subs at half-time. I got more than I bargained for.

It was amazing. From the pre-match drills all the way through to limping off injured after about 25 minutes of game time. It was brilliant being part of Claudio’s squad. I always try to earwig his team talks at W1T games, so it was a treat being able to legitimately listen in to his insights. Even the pre-match warm-up was the same as the first team’s. We played a small-sided possession game: orange bibs against non-bibs. Confusingly I was handed a green bib which meant I played for both sides. @*&%, that was confusing! It should’ve made things easier as I could basically pass to anyone, but it blew my mind! I was expecting my ageing body to face a physical test – I wasn’t ready for a mental one too.

Being on the bench only added to the surreal ‘parallel universe’ otherworldly feel of the evening. I handed my camera over to a variety of people starting with Maria and tried to focus on the game. It was a completely bizarre role-reversal chatting to Polly, Lenny, Verity et al., on the side-lines – with them watching us rather than the other way round. All I’m going to say is: it is a lot easier taking photos.

I love Claudio’s attention to detail. He asked me where I played, I said I could play anywhere as long as it didn’t expose my devastating lack of pace. When I got my chance (replacing Briggsy), he put me in the holding midfield role – perfect for disguising my inability to change gear. It felt so good being back on a football pitch. The last time I had played 90 minutes was back in Hamburg in July 2019 – pre-pandemic – for Yorkshire St. Pauli against FC Lampedusa. That felt like a lifetime ago.

It was an honour to play in midfield alongside Lauren Ryan (who’d recently made her W1T first team deputising for Lucy Spours). I guess that meant I was in the Li Steiner role? Although there was no way I was going to be matching her work-rate!

It would be easy to get frustrated with how old, slow and fat I’ve become; how my body won’t do what my mind tells it to. But, I guess, being 50 and just getting out there to play a small part in such a historic occasion was more than enough. I just kept thinking: do the simple things and move the ball on to the better players! Also, I probably need to apologise for calling Cemal ‘Kem’ (very Love Island, 2017) during the first half, my brain was still recovering from that green-bib confusion!

I wasn’t expecting to stay on in the second half, I’d racked-up more than my preferred two minutes. I thought it would be my knees that would buckle (although double-dosing with ibuprofen helped with that). Instead, about 10-minutes into the second-half, just as I was trying to get the ball from out of my feet to have a shot (!) on goal, I felt that dreaded pop or twang of a muscle. You know instantly that’s it. I’ve only ever done my hamstrings like that before, but the sensation was exactly the same. Time to bow out and hand back over to Briggsy. But what a privilege!

I don’t remember much else about the match. Whilst playing I just remember thinking how fast is Caps Riom? And how technical and precise is Cemal? I don’t recall much about the other side, they mostly just rushed past me in a purple, red and yellow blur. Records were duly created: Jerry Jairette getting the first CCFC men’s goal at the OSD, Teju Callisto doing likewise for the women. ‘Hot-Shot’ Tom Marsland embedding himself as the all-time leading CCFC goalscorer at The Dog with two.

The end was special. I’d needlessly stayed in my kit to take part in the lo-lo-los (shades of John Terry – Aaaaaaaaaaaargh! Noooooooooo!). Another thing ticked off the bucket list, though. The pyro was immense, along with the fans paying tribute to Sami at full-time.

In short: it was *?&#ing amazing. 

This club has given us all such highs. This season alone has been incredible. I didn’t think anything could come close to the FA Cup run, but this was up there. This felt like the culmination of so much hard work. Everyone who helped to make this happen has our upmost thanks and respect. This club, eh?

And we’ve got a cup final Sunday… 

More Photos