GROUNDHOP DAY

Selby Town 0-2 Wombwell Town. NCEL Division One. 15/02/2025.

‘What was on show was like a pack of Revels; a mixed bag, with very few bits of quality on offer. That being said, we loved it.’

On Saturday 24th July 1999, Selby Town hosted Manchester United as a celebration of Town’s eightieth anniversary. Yes, that did happen. Albeit their reserve squad, but it was a reserve squad that included David Beckham and Paul Scholes; two players who had played a key role in United’s treble-winning season just a few months prior. It was Beckham in particular that brought with him a wave of excitement and 2,300 spectators to a packed-out Flaxley Road. After the game, he was quoted saying, “I’ve played in some incredible stadiums: Old Trafford, Wembley, Nou Camp. The best by far, though, was Flaxley Road” – source: Jay Cartwright. 

Fast forward nearly twenty-six years, and I was accompanied to watch Selby Town v Wombwell Town at the now ‘Fairfax Plant Hire Stadium’ by a Manchester United fan. Arguably, this was a step up from the football he has become accustomed to in the past ten years, and potentially the only way he was ever going to experience proper football again. Not only this, but with Old Trafford now falling to pieces and offering the locals a waterfall experience at every game, this was potentially a refreshing upgrade in stadium for him, too. 

Only five miles from where I grew up, Selby is a town that is stacked full of memories and a place that brought me some of my most interesting nights out during my adolescence; it’s also the place that nearly cost me my career as a designer whilst studying at college. With York and Leeds being strict on their ID policy, the only place to be served underage was either Selby or Goole. Unfortunately, at sixteen years old, you have no awareness – or care in the world – of what pint after pint of Old Speckled Hen on a Thursday night will do to you, especially when you need to put together your portfolio for university interviews the very next day. Cue me still being half pissed on the Friday morning, not being able to cut my mounting boards in a straight line and being sent to get a bacon butty by my tutor to sober off, all before the clock had even made eleven. Selby, you’re a bad influence. 

Anyway, back to the football. The weather in the morning seemed fitting for non-league: drizzly, murky and cold; I say that as it reminded me of the weather I used to play in every Saturday in my youth. For all I intend to travel around the grounds of the football league, I also want to get to as many non-league grounds as possible. One, because it’s good to support the local teams – especially when they’re from a Town that has played such a big part of your growing up – two, because non-league football is elite. There’s no overpaid Prima Donnas when you’re this far down the football pyramid, they’re all just people that play for the love of the game on top of their every-day jobs; half of them probably still pissed up from their Friday night in town. It’s not just the football, either. The stadiums are class, too. The Fairfax Plant Hire is the epitome of this; it’s a stadium which some might argue is worn down and in desperate need of some funding and TLC. However, it’s also a ground that other people – aka me – would say that those exact points are what gives it such charm. Yes, I know I was slagging off Old Trafford earlier for having a leaky roof, but that’s a ground you would expect to be in immaculate condition. United can’t get away with it, Town can. 

The entrance to the ground is just about visible down the end of a terraced street; blink and you’ll miss it. As I drove down the bobbly and pot-holed road towards the car park, I quickly realised that it was a lot busier than I expected it to be and that I might struggle to get in. Thankfully, I squeezed in behind a van to grab the last ‘space’ on offer. A top tip for anyone going would be to arrive an hour or so before KO. The people of Selby like a drink (as mentioned earlier), so I think the need to have a pre-match pint (or two) in the Clubhouse contributed to the stacked-out parking. 

The turnstiles were made up of run-down and stained white brick and an old-fashioned red gate. The clubhouse ‘The Final Whistle’ was instantly to our left as soon as we’d gone through, and of course, our bodies naturally gravitated towards it. Admission was £6, so I was pleasantly surprised when the lady at the bar said a Guinness was £4. A tenner all in for football and a pint, lovely – even if it was from a can. The clubhouse itself had a nice feel to it, plastered with old photo frames, shirts, and of course, memorabilia from THAT game against United.

Throughout the match, we would make our way around the whole ground, and each side would have a different story to tell. The main side stand was full of the real Selby Town fans; the fans wearing Town branded hats and clothing, and would quite happily scream at the referee to call him a wanker if he gave a decision against them. Behind the goal was where the majority of families were, but don’t let that fool you. These ten-year-olds have watched enough football in their lives on tv to know exactly what to shout at the opposition keeper when he kicks the ball – ‘YOU SHIT BASTARD! AAAAAHHHH’ echoed around the stand on multiple occasions. This was the part of the stadium that arguably came with the most character and charm; whether it be the tin roof, the multitude of red metal poles holding it together, the worn-down fencing at the top of the stand, or the overgrown shrubbery and weeds that were piercing through and hanging at the back. However, it was perhaps the away end that provided us with the most entertainment that day.

Here we met a couple of gents I would describe as ‘Wombwell Town Ultras’, two proper football fans who follow their team absolutely everywhere. The first (above) – an unbelievable character – started by telling us how he used to be a Barnsley fan, but ‘their stupid American owners had run them into the ground’, so instead of continuing to fund them, he found a new love in his local side. He then began telling us tales of all the different grounds he’d been to watch his team, before mentioning the other guy he’d come with that had temporarily made his way around the other side of the ground. A guy he described as a ‘crippled fuck’ but a ‘proper lovely man’; a guy that was known as ‘Wombwell John’.

Speaking of football, what was on show was like a bag of Revels; a mixed bag, with very few bits of quality on offer. That being said, we loved it. Wombwell Town arrived in great form, having won their past five games and turning up second in the league. Selby on the other hand were sat just above mid table – although not without a shout of reaching the Play-Offs – having lost their last two, without scoring a goal. Arguably though, it was Selby who had the better of the first half. A missed penalty and a number of half chances from set-pieces, they were perhaps unfortunate to go in at half-time with the score 0-0. We would have to wait until the sixty-second minute for the first goal; coincidentally, just after we’d made our way to that end of the ground. A lofty ball over the defence saw Wombwell’s number ten run through on goal and slot past the Selby keeper. There was a very questionable altercation in the lead up to the goal – a WWE neck hold – but with no VAR available in the Northern Counties East League, the goal stood; cue wild celebrations from the eight Wombwell Town fans at our end. Although Wombwell John wasn’t present at this moment, I like to think he ditched his walking stick – like Grandpa Joe after receiving his golden ticket on Charlie & The Chocolate Factory – and raced around the ground, fist pumping the air.

As the game approached its final few minutes, I left and headed back to the car. I’m not a regular to do this, but I wanted to get out of the highly congested and tiny car park before it turned into chaos. I also needed to pop into Sainsbury’s down the road to pick up some tiny star-shaped baby pasta (for my son) that my wife had seen on TikTok, and apparently, only Sainsbury’s sells. Somehow, within these five minutes, I missed the most dramatic part of the game. A second goal for Wombwell, a red card for Selby Town and a proper Sunday League-like scuffle at the end. 

The moral of the story: Never leave a game early, not even for tiny star-shaped pasta that only Sainsbury’s sells.  

Stadium: I can’t really justify giving it more than a one when it only has one official stand (I’d class the other as more of a large bus stop). However, it does feel a bit harsh considering it has bags of character and charm.

Location: The ground is situated just a few minutes’ walk from the main strip of town, with plenty of pubs and bars around. The only downside is the on-street parking if you can’t get a space in the main car park.

Atmosphere: It was lively there, I can’t say it wasn’t. Having said that, I wouldn’t stretch as far as saying it had an ‘atmosphere’, so if I was to score it any higher than a one, I’d be lying. Cue the aggressive fan behind me calling me a wanker. 

Mascot: As far as I’m aware, Selby don’t have an official mascot. Instead, they opt to use children. I think that’s nice, and it emphasises the family feel to the club. However, I can’t score them because of it, so it has to go down as N/A.