Rural Football and the Forest of Dean, England.

Amateur Football.

Forest of Dean, England.
Photographs & text by David Cross.

With a rich tapestry of social clubs all tied to the forestry, quarries, tin and coal mines, football along with brass bands and their accompanying marching troupes of youths and choral societies were once a major feature of the working life and local culture of the Forest of Dean. Nestled next to the River Wye and spreading east towards the old market town of Gloucester, the area known as “the Dean” straddles the line between England and Wales and to its credit, has maintained an identity all its own.
The region also balances two obvious features, the natural beauty of the forest with its plethora of wild animals and the slightly harsh realities of town and village life. It’s a common scenario where those “with” brush up against those who certainly don’t “have”, it can look quite acute when seen up close. But where there is unemployment there is also opportunity, the magnitude of new build housing tells you that. A new tech based industrial estate has been built and a large modern college has also opened recently. People move here from London now, half a million pound buys up a lot of real estate in the Forest and since the bridge to Bristol no longer has a toll, the whole area has suddenly changed with new faces and swimming pools in gardens becoming quite the norm. This influx of new people has deepened the culture significantly and one off shoot of that is new players for the local football teams.
The Dean was once a hotbed of football talent and the guys who make up the older group of supporters that follow the North Gloucester League today often have a tale or two to share about the good old days, when players were slipped brown envelopes of cash for swapping teams or scoring goals, some even had groupies, or so they say. Here on a Saturday afternoon throughout the football season, on a selection of uneven pitches the men folk come together to rejoice, scream, complain or just to be social, around the edges of the local football field.

The parking areas are filled with fancy sports cars and battered work vans, one or two arrive by moped, the demographic is wide ranging. If a pub or Club House is within reach, the beer flows freely amongst the supporters and steadily the crowd, no more than 40 eventually fill up the best spots around the bar entrance or the dug outs. Some chat and some argue, everyone has an opinion and just like the work place, certain people stand out. Though very much in the amateur ranks, the guys train in the lead up to the season and during. The amount of training one does and how much you can raise your fitness, has a bearing on how fast you can move from Reserves to Division 3, as one player told me over a cigarette. The access to artificial pitches and flood lighting is extremely limited which puts several teams at a disadvantage. Despite this the local league is backed up by a knowledgeable group of volunteers, most are ex players. Some work behind the scenes with the running of the clubs while others are on the side-lines a few evenings per week and every Saturday during the on season. Before the whistle is blown you can hear their voices cutting above the chatter, which is often colourful. They call for team work and to “look for space”. The encouragement doesn’t wain, regardless of the outcome. Late arrivals and no shows are common with certain teams, it adds to the pressure and drama.

Many of the players are trades-men and when the bricks need laying or the wires need connecting, the money often has to take precedence. For others it’s a way of life. A game at 2pm and then hit bar at the Social Club, nothing gets in the way. Beer and the crackling sound of the pool table competes with friendly banter and insults, which is the regular form of communication. It is hon-est and open and it feels refreshing, most unlike the moody attitudes and snarling of the cities near by. Lydbrook, which has one road running through it, the entire length of the village at 1.5 miles is home to Lydbrook A.F.C, it was formed in 1918 and although preceded by clubs such as Ellwood, - 1902, it has a deep history of football and has had on its books some of regions best players over the years. The pitch here is one of the best in that it is flat and noticeably less windy than others. It is perfectly fitted into the landscape, surrounded on all sides by either woodland or housing, indicative of its importance in earlier times.
One of the oldest clubs is Lydney RFC founded in 1888, at this early date there were eight teams in the area. Lydney RFC had a ready and willing group of able men to pick from, fielding a regular team from the local work force at the tin plating factory, there was a real depth of talent there as many of the older gents will tell you, for many years the club was known as the ‘Tinplaters’.
Proving that football really is a universal language, to this day the towns football club has strong links to the Waikato Province of New Zealand, the place that the Tinplaters’ first president went to live during the 1930’s. A positive of small communities, knowing virtually everyone, you are soon called out by the group if you cross the lines of acceptable behaviour. That’s not to say the Dean is free of what some would call unacceptable behaviour, as poverty, drugs and crime play their roles in this society as they do in pretty much all others around the UK.

The football scene that I encountered was happy and open the talk flowed as freely as the beer, it was always a colourful event. I remember one afternoon when the car park was “lit” with the aroma of sweet cannabis and the heavy beat of drum and bass - I should add that this wasn’t a Bream AFC match but one that I stumbled upon whilst travelling elsewhere in the Forest of Dean. The atmosphere was light and nobody seemed troubled by my presence.
Fathers and sons regularly follow the tradition into local football and now there is female involvement on the pitch as well as off with the development of women's teams at some clubs. No doubt inspired by the success of the English ladies in the recent European Cup it is hoped by many involved that this will bring in not just a new dynamic but also increased revenue to help the Clubs to continue. It’s a hands on affair, although the staff in the background work hard to keep everything running. There is a certain amount of paper work to complete after each match, some of this is official F.A. documentation, some is related to the fees paid by the Clubs to ensure the rules are being kept too and of course, the results recorded.
At the end of the game some of the players and supporters drift off into the lanes and villages which is often the only time these places see so many people at once, within an hour the streets are quiet again and the only sign of life is the low buzz from the Club House. During the winter months as I walked away from a game and looked back, the dim glow of light from the entrance door, diffused by the freezing fog suddenly looked like a beacon in the wilderness, a homing device for those seeking contact and a cheap beer. For the fans and many are in retirement, it is pretty obvious that the football is a life line to community and connectivity. Some refused to speak to me, preferring to stand back from the camera while several others were more than happy to talk football, the cost of living and the latest “transfer” fee for their favourite players, a few even took an interest in the photography.

None of the players will be famous and no one cares, a win here a defeat there, try not to get relegated and have a laugh with your friends is all that really matters. The Premiere League is a long way off, few can afford the travel let alone the ticket price and that increases the importance of the amateur league, player and fan alike can get their fill of the game they love. Everyone needs a place where they feel they belong and have a sense of companionship, even if it’s only for 90 minutes. The football scene offers that alternative family where all together the people root for an agreed outcome - a win. In a world that seems more and more dissociative at times, your local football club isn’t a bad place to spend your Saturdays. Many bring the whole family and on warm-er days the odd BBQ is fired up, kids run wild and their dogs sometimes follow suit, it can be entertaining and a chance to let off stream, a few are clearly relieved to have left the wife at home, but everyone knows they’re actually besotted. It’s a man thing. The final whistle blows bringing to an end another afternoon of footie in the Forest of Dean, it’s raining and bitter cold, I’ve lost track of the score but I over hear that Bream have won. A few young kids drift around kicking a ball, a couple of lads turn up on bicycles and share a can of cider, the dog walkers arrive too, a mother with a child in a push chair make their way towards the en-trance of the community area, for some it’s been a long afternoon of waiting and for others it hasn’t been long enough. A week will pass before the sound of the Acme calls the start of the next match, when players, officials and supporters around the world will line up in their respective positions and play their roles in this great and global community that centres around the beautiful game.

Thanks for reading.