6th January 2013 - History is damp...Ghosts or Players?

I walked across the old grounds of Stradey Park Rugby Football ground.
That is not difficult, as it is only a couple of hundred yards away from the house, in fact it used to be rumoured that I would lean out the back window and yell "Can you keep the noise down - some people are trying to sleep here !" when a match was on...  But though I used to walk that way regularly, I have not been that way since the fences went up and the buildings started getting knocked down.

Now, I do not consider myself to be much of a Rugby fan. Before you jump down my throat, I live in Llanelli, I have lived here for 35 years, but I am not Welsh, I was born in Glasgow and raised in London. I am not native Llanelli, and it is quite possible, though difficult, to survive in this town without having a religious fervour for the game with the funny shaped ball. There - I have said it!!! But then most of my friends know that about me already.

As a young constable in Llanelli, I tried hard to fit in and enjoy the game. But there was a tendency for one policeman to be watching the crowd when on "Crowd Control" duty. It was partly because I did not wear contact lenses in those days - they were rather new technology. And my glasses really never fitted very well under my cap. Yes, we had caps in those days before we had the "Bobby" helmet. Dyfed-Powys Police were different that way. They called us "Pongos" in training school. So watching the game was rather pointless as I could not really see the action on the field. So I watched the spectators instead.

After a few months I thought the whole matter through.
Saturday afternoons were Rugby Afternoons. This involved getting to your traffic "point" for traffic control about 2 hours before the match. Best to remember to go to the loo before taking point. There is very little opportunity to relieve yourself once you are at the junction  directing traffic! No extra cup of tea that morning! Then after the game starts the van pulls up and you get a lift to the ground, sneak in the side entrance by the South Stand and make your way around to the Town end, more affectionately known as the Tanner Bank.  Twenty minutes before the end, regardless of how exciting the game was, you were once more in the van heading for another two hour Traffic Point, hoping that someone would remember to pick you up - or face a long walk back to the station..

Yes - I thought it through - all self respecting Llanelli criminals were naturally Scarlet Supporters! They were little different from any other member of the populace other than their criminal activities, so they would of course be at the match. Thus, likelihood of any criminality during the match was marginal. Domestic Disputes would not really flare up until at least half a dozen pints after the match ... most shops were shut, and there were no vehicles on the road. So it seemed only natural to volunteer to "look after the town" while the match was on - an act of selfless altruism which allowed all my rugby fanatical colleagues to watch the match while I took on the arduous task of finding a nice warm place with a cup of tea, radio by my side, to ensure that the town was "Safe".

And so it was for many years that I found the quietest time of the week was match day in Llanelli.

Tanner Bank

But walking around the grounds now, there is a mound where the tanner bank used to be. Temporary fencing around the whole site - but gaps where the fencing has fallen and the once verdant turf is now indistinguishable from the rest of the tufts of course grass. Local complainers always said that there would be trouble trying to build housing on this site due to the drainage problems - the ground is wet but there is still history here. You can almost see the score boards in the puddles.

9 - 3

As you walk past the old North Stand area there is nothing to show that fans have stood in all weathers, muffled from the cold. There is no sign of the building or the lines. Looking out over the pitch towards Pwll End there is only the expanse of cleared ground and a distant line of houses.

Sadder still is the sight of rugby Posts, denuded of their famous Saucepans, lying rusting on the ground amongst a tangle of broken railing and an old flood light.

Walking past the main entrance to the ground, the Leylandii trees have grown but there is no Electricity Club hidden behind anymore - that has also been demolished. Once this was the car park and entrance - now some rubble on the left and mud on what was once the road and shop.

To complete the walk back from the ground, the entrance to Stradey Park Avenue, the rails and gates are the same, but now there are blocks preventing access.  

So now I do not have to lean out and ask them to keep the noise down. But it is almost as though sad ghosts of the past were by my side as I wandered along the touchline once more. They were no more distinct than the players I failed to see in the past, but now as then - I feel sure that they are there..