Going to the Match

How going to the match has changed over the years. It started with my friends’ dad’s car through the Birkenhead tunnel, before the Wallasey tunnel was opened. Then we parked in terraced side streets or even on rough ground, some of which had not been rebuilt on since gaps had been created in the densely populated urban landscape by the Luftwaffe. After that, the Wallasey tunnel cut down travelling time as we graduated to our own cars, and 1960s demolition of out-dated housing close to the ground created plenty of new spaces for parking, wherever any remaining rubble had been removed or sufficiently flattened. You did not have to pay to park, but it was advisable to cough up a silver coin or two to the local lads who had promised to “Mind yer car, Mr?”, beforehand.

Improvements to public transport and to the Merseyrail network, in particular, then made it easier to rely on connection services at the new Moorfields station. Getting off at Kirkdale, we would run from the station to the ground and back to the train again afterwards. No more running today, I’m sad to say, but another option is the dedicated coach service picking up at a local Wallasey pub and providing a door-to-door service.  

Living away and visiting relatively infrequently, the new ground at Bramley Moore Dock is probably logistically a little easier for us than Goodison Park was, though we had our workable systems in place there, as well. They involved parking on an arterial road at some distance from the ground and relying on a brisk walk and a quick getaway by road after the game. From the Queen Hotel at Chester this time, we simply crossed the road to catch the four-car Class 777 EMU to Moorfields from Chester station, which is overlooked by the statue of the prolific railway builder, Thomas Brassey. There are lots of stops along the Wirral line but fast acceleration by the new units illustrates their suitability to these commuter routes. Up two escalators to the Northern line platform at Moorfields means we have a single stop journey to Sandhills, followed by a ten-minute walk to the Hill Dickinson Stadium. It was very straightforward. After sitting down for a couple of hours, we were glad to stretch our legs on a very direct walk back into town, parallel to the dock wall, and ending up at James Street station. From a 7.30 kick off, we were back in Chester by 10.30.

Before entering the stadium, I was reminded of how sensitively this development has incorporated elements from our industrial heritage. There were the dockside railway tracks that served the transit sheds and warehouses. Also retained are some surviving capstans, where the freighters had tied up alongside the dock wall to unload their goods. I’d once cycled on these flagstones, though maybe making sure I wasn’t too close to the edge of the docks themselves. It was a risky business, for sure, especially as I couldn’t swim at the time, but ship spotting came first on those Saturday mornings, now such a long time ago.