Sir Robert and I rode the midsummer special (£10 return!) down to the God-awaiting capital of the UK this afternoon, to catch AFC Bournemouth's game against (coincidentally, given the last entry) Rotherham United.
The Dean Court ground is a fair old walk from the station and we allowed a generous amount of time for wandering, so there was ample chance to scope out the town. Bournemouth is a favourite retirement spot for the elderly and well-off, so I was expecting a genteel sort of place with a languid pace of life. It susprised me therefore that the walk to Dean Court from the centre involves navigating dual carriageways, aggressive underpass systems, divey-looking pubs and, curiously, a considerable number of sex shops. Maybe the Viagra revolution has really delivered the goods for the crinklies of Bournemouth, who knows.
Despite this surprising (but not entirely unwelcome) bit of urban grit en route, by the time you arrive at the ground you are firmly in pleasant suburbia, having hopefully stopped along the way for a welcome pint of Ringwood at the splendidly unpretentious Queen's Park pub, which appears tolerant of away fans and groundhopping randomers. Down a leafy street of semis you find Dean Court, a simple stadium sitting plum in the middle of a suburban playing field.
After grabbing a burger (acceptable) and stopping off for Sir Robert to get his programme autographed by first teamers Shaun Cooper and Danny Holland (suits: definitely not acceptable) we instal ourselves in the East Stand, which is the popular end. The ground around us seems to have been designed by an architect who was chronically risk-averse, for the design exhibits no risk-taking whatsoever. Simple, metallic stands with contrasting red seats make for a smart but generic design. The only unusual feature of any form is the three-sided layout; ahead of us, the opposite end is open, with just a small wall behind the goal. Someone had parked a coach on the other side of it - maybe it was a team coach or maybe they were using it as executive boxes.
Both the newness and the three-sidedness of the ground are legacies of a ground-up redevelopment in 2001, in the course of which the pitch was reoriented 90 degrees and three new stands were built in a matter of months. I'm not sure why they rotated the pitch - maybe it was to move the pitch somewhat further from the houses around. It certainly looks like the kind of well-to-do neighbourhood where your neighbours might well be upight nibmyists, so maybe a good move. In any case Bournemouth have never been above a bit of self-reinvention. In the seventies under John Bond they adopted an AC Milan style black and red kit, and changed their name from (the admittedly unwieldy) Bournemouth & Boscombe Athletic to AFC Bournemouth - either to continue the theme of emulating the continentals or just to ensure they are always No.1 in the FA Cup draw - I'm not sure.
The match itself was a taut but not especially exciting affair, from two teams who suffered points deductions last season but will probably be vying for promotion this. The technical standard of both sets of players looked to be enough to put them ahead of most in this division. Standout players were few, although Rotherham's Jamie Green and Bournemouth's Mark Moseley were decent. A note of praise is needed for Bournemouth's Lee Bradbury and Steve Fletcher, together the biggest, baddest, ugliest and least mobile - not to mention oldest - forward pairing that English football has seen for some time. They really need to sign Dean Windass to make it a geriatric troika. Appropriate for Bournemouth, perhaps? This is a town whose cliffs have lifts so it's probably the right venue for the first football forward line to play in their bath chairs.
After the game, Sir Robert and I tried to find a pub to watch the Newcastle - Reading game. This was not a wise move. With the exception of the Queen's Park (which shut after the game) Bournemouth is very short on good pubs - and Sir Robert can be particularly picky about pubs. My advice: bring your own beer.
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