IT may not be a huge leap from Askern Welfare to Askern Villa but, just three years ago, it represented a pretty nifty name change, nonetheless.
Last Saturday, the Villa were home to West Auckland, Carlsberg FA Vase last 64. “The biggest game in the club’s history,” said Dave Hall, the Askern secretary. The Railroad to Wembley had yet another departure.
Askern is a former mining town, on the A19 a few miles north of Doncaster, said on its Wikipedia page latterly to have become “gentrified”.
Many Durham pitmen, particularly from Dean and Chapter and Chilton collieries, are reckoned to have relocated there in the 1960s, when their own seams were exhausted.
It doubtless explains the gentrification.
Dave Hall’s ancestors had the Sun Inn at Wackerfield, a hamlet just three or four miles from West. Not many people come from Wackerfield.
Nineteenth century Askern was itself no more than a farming village, until they discovered the restorative powers of the local water.
“The water is of a most unpleasant odour and taste,” wrote Dr Short in Mineral Waters of Yorkshire and so, naturally, folk flocked from all over the north. It became a spa town – the place to stay, says Wikipedia – and thus remained until the early 20th Century, when coal, and Coalite, undermined it.
It’s only about 80 miles from West Auckland, team and officials transported in what usually is the Hartlepool United team bus. “All reclining seats and black leather,” enthuses visiting secretary Allen Bayles. The Pool have travelled well of late; it’s much to be hoped that West Auckland can follow their lead.
WE’RE on the 10.56 from Darlington to Donny. By one of those curiosities now familiar on the railways, the lady issues a return to York and another from York to Doncaster. “It’s cheaper,” she says though, even with a railcard, it’s still £21.
The train’s pretty full, a certain excitement in the air. They can’t all be going to Askern Villa, surely?
More fundamentally, a little girl’s interrogating her grandma about the wonders of nature. “Do you like stick insects?” she asks.
“What,” replies grandma, “you mean like woodworm?”
Though the Grand Central still saunters past on a circuitous route from Bradford to London via Selby, Askern station closed in nineteen-hundred-and-nithered-todeath.
The elder bairn across from Leeds, we catch the bus from the adjoining interchange, signs bidding Welcome to Doncaster in eight languages, but unable to do much about the chill.
Askern’s interesting, though “gentrified” may not be the first word that comes to mind. In the centre is the lake that once boasted such therapeutic waters. Now there’s a hut that sells bird food at 20p a packet and an absurd list of “Askern Lake” byelaws that include a prohibition on cattle, sheep, goats or pigs “or any horse, donkey or pony or any other beast of draft or burden”.
For the information of those able to walk on water, golf is also forbidden.
The Rock of Ages Evangelical Church is shuttered, the pubs are showing Newcastle v Chelsea on what the bairn calls dodgy TV. The real action is on what still is known as the Welfare Ground, in the shadow of the Welfare Club. One notice promotes the match, another Babes in the Wood.
West Auckland, strong favourites, are by no means innocents abroad.
ASKERN were champions of the Central Midlands League Supreme Division – the “Premier” division is the second – so in 2008 were promoted to the Northern Counties East League first division which, of course, is the second.
Currently they’re second bottom, lost 6-1 the previous Saturday, have had gates as low as 27 (and for the visit of Worksop Paramore, no less.) It’s 100 years since West Auckland last won the World Cup but, resurgent, they’re top or thereabouts of the STL Northern League. Local councillor Andy Turner, himself a former Scottish League goalkeeper – Cowdenbeath (qv) of all the teams – has £10 at 10-1 on star striker Mattie Moffatt hitting a hat-trick.
The welcome’s warm, as always in the FA Vase, the only problem that the tea hut has no hot food. “There’s a fish and chip shop down the road,” says the chap behind the counter. So much for Askern you shall receive.
“They’d never get in the Northern League with nee pies,” grumbles one of the visiting committee men. The crowd’s about 150, the lights a bit dim.
“It’s quite Christmassy playing by candlelight,” someone says.
Moffatt, West lad and local hero, scores inside ten minutes, optimism engulfed when Askern equalise shortly before half-time. Visiting officials remain upbeat. “Fozza’ll give them a good kettling in the dressing room,” someone forecasts.
Not two minutes after the interval and it looks like assistant manager Paul Foster really has brought things to the boil. Micky Rae hits a cracker. After 65 minutes it’s 3-1, Moffatt again. Coun Turner rubs his hands in a Private Frazer sort of way.
“Och,” he says (or words to that effect.) With ten minutes remaining, however, Villa threaten to bring the roof around West Auckland’s ears by scoring a second. They hang on, one of an unprecedented six Northern League clubs in the national draw for the last 32.
The players are staying back to watch the evening kick-off in the bar. It’s Aston Villa v Man United but though they might sound similar, all who love the FA Vase will attest that that’s where the comparison ends. Afternoons like this, happily, are in a different league altogether.
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