No. 46: Field Mill [Mansfield Town]

Saturday, 22nd August 2015 
Mansfield Town v. Oxford United [League 2] 1-1

My dad was born in Mansfield and bred in its rural surrounds, so for this trip I invited him to spend the weekend with me in his hometown, visit some family and show me the sights. It was a memorable weekend all round.

We arrived Friday afternoon, checked into our B&B a short walk from the town centre, then went off to meet my uncle for an early evening beer in a pub my dad used to drink in 50 years ago.

Field Mill Stadium behind rows of houses.

Back then, it was called the Horse and Jockey. In an effort no doubt to make it seem a bit more upmarket and trendy, it was now called "...and why not?". It certainly looked a lot more posh than it did in the 1960s, my dad thought, with its craft beers, velvet drapes and padded benched booths.

Almost as soon as we arrived though and took a seat in the outdoor area, a fight broke out amongst a bunch of female drinkers that ended with a cocktail being thrown in one of their faces and a storming off from all 4 of their number leaving smashed glass and strewn chairs in its wake.

Clockwise starting Left: '...and why not?' pub; fight aftermath; I♥Mansfield; Miner Statue.

Initially taken aback by the scene, my uncle soon reassured my dad - "You are back in Mansfield now Dennis!". And truly we were.

Mansfield is in origins a working-class market town that grew in line with the main industrial output of this part of the East Midlands - coal mining. As such, you'd expect it to be a little rough around the edges. Although like many similar places since the decline of mining and the depression that came to the area as a result, the town has made efforts to pick itself up, redevelop the centre and smarten itself up a bit.

Mansfield Town Centre, looking towards Railway Viaduct

There are still a run of boarded up shops and former pubs on Leeming Street as you walk towards the market square. But as you turn right and pass under the imposing arches of the Great Eastern railway viaduct passing high above the town centre, there are signs of gentrification.

On the corner of Dame Flogan Street, there is the CAMRA-approved tiny 'Beer Shack' for a start - which was a swarm of hipster beards, waxed-moustaches and intelligent conversation as we walked past.

Olde Ramme Inn: Rustic Charm.

This new place wasn't for us on a nostalgia tour - instead we headed to The Olde Ramme Inn, another former haunt of my father's from back when it mattered not what the pub looked like or who else was in the pub where you drank your beer.

I'm glad to say that the 'Ramme' has kept those traditions up a treat - featuring a table of youngsters who looked like heroin-users, the pub itself looked like an absolute shithole. It had also added 'smelt like' to that impressive roster of charms in the intervening years since my Dad last sank beers here.

Still - we had a couple in here chatting away to the friendly barmaid, and my 67-year-old father was even approached by one of the scag-heads asking him if he was single as she was looking for a sugar daddy. Hmm.

I managed to drag my father and uncle away from this delightful young lady and we went looking for some food.

As ever, I fancied a curry. My uncle hadn't ever had an Indian meal before, so I was a little worried that Mansfield may not have somewhere good enough for his first taste. How wrong I could be.

Up near the arches again and past the Beer Shack was another gentrified establishment - a newly-opened restaurant called Mangrove that we'd been recommended. We were lucky to get in to be honest - the place was absolutely rammed but they fitted us in for a quick sitting.

Mangrove Indian Bistro, Mansfield. Inset: a man's first curry.

It was excellent - I had a Chicken Mirch Masala - which was a cheeky number that was creamy and yet had an extremely spicy chilli kick to it. My uncle had a korma (probably wise for his first time) and I'm glad to say enjoyed it immensely and had no reported side-effects the next morning. Which was more than can be said for me.

That was quite enough for one night - we said goodnight to my moderately-spiced uncle and my dad & I staggered home to the B&B to sleep off the Mansfield ales.

Saturday morning was up bright and early for breakfast and then off to drive around the many places my dad managed to live in during his childhood in Mansfield. First was the council house he was born in near the town centre, then the place he lived in from 3-7 years old out on the Bull Farm estate, then another a few streets away for another year, then his fondest childhood memories on Howard Road from when he was 8 till about 12.

A selection of my Dad's childhood Mansfield homes. Plus Social Club his dad was barred from.

I knew my dad had spent his early childhood in Mansfield but hadn't realised quite how many places he'd lived in. Why was it you were always moving, I asked him?

"I'm not sure, but I think it was because my dad was always upsetting the neighbours so the council kept moving us!".

This doesn't surprise me - my granddad was a bit of a rogue by all accounts, as I continued to find out on our day driving around residential Mansfield.

"Here is where he had a fight in the street which stopped the traffic."
"Over there is the Social Club he was barred from."
"On that corner he threw a horse-drawn ice-cream cart onto its side, including both tethered horses and owner still inside, because he wouldn't serve your auntie another ice cream after she dropped it."

A pattern had certainly emerged!

What also emerged was my dad's amazement at how much of Mansfield's green-belt that he'd grown up in was now housing. Fields that he and other children had frolicked in beside their newly-built post-war council estate homes were now islands of ever-expanding concrete and expanding home-ownership.

A walk around Newton: Five-Pits Trail and Tibshelf Ponds.

Our final stop before the football was the ex-mining village of Newton just over the county border in Derbyshire, where my grandparents moved their expanding family of 8 children when my dad was 12 and this village remained their home until the late 1980s.

Newton in the 60s was a little different to today's pretty green rural village - there were still 5 pit-heads operating then and my Dad and his siblings' walk to school across the muddy treeless fields was the same path trodden by workers heading into the mines for a hard day of dusty toil.

Today, dense woodlands that my dad said didn't exist 50 years ago have have taken over, and the paths and railway tracks of old are now set aside for walkers tracing paths through the woods on the Five Pits Trail, or anglers at Tibshelf Ponds - which stand today on the site of an old colliery.

Pint of Mild & Bag of Scratchings: East Midlands Classic.

Having done a good couple of miles' walking around the trail in scorching sunshine, we returned to the village for a welcome pint of mild at my granddad's former home from home, the George and Dragon.

On hearing our story of re-tracing my Dad's childhood, the landlord pointed us in the direction of an old man in the corner who'd been using the pub for 60 years.

"Do you remember my father, Dennis Mason?" asked my dad.
The old man did a double-take, flinched slightly (my dad does look a lot like my grandfather did), then said with a smile "Oh aye. Every bugger in Derbyshire knows Dennis Mason!".

Field Mill: Corner of Ian Greaves Stand & Quarry Lane End.

I wasn't going to stop and ask for any more stories as to why everyone knew him! So it was finally time to head back into town and off to the football.

Mansfield Town's 'One Call' Stadium, or Field Mill as it actually should be called, designates itself the oldest professional football ground in the world. I haven't actually checked this for veracity but having definitely hosted football since 1861, I'd believe them.

The newest bit at Field Mill - The Ian Greaves Stand.

Not much remains of course from these days. The two end stands were redeveloped in the late 1990s, and the impressive Ian Greaves (west) Stand opened in 2001. This two-tiered cantilevered 5,500-capacity stand would look good enough at many Championship grounds.

This is in stark contrast though to the dilapidated and closed-off Bishop Street Terrace which runs the length of the other side of the ground. As regular readers will know, I'm a lover of older 'characterful' terraces that are sadly diminishing around the country.

Bishop Street Terrace: Closed.

But this, in its current state at least - isn't one of them, sadly. Cracked corrugated iron, smashed glass and weeds growing through the broken concrete terracing, this has been closed for as long as I remember and is clearly in no fit state to be opening again anytime soon.

Apparently there is even a hole in the roof of the stand which the MTFC supporters association have sponsored as a comedy gesture!

I'm sure the club would love to knock it down and develop it in line with the other stands, but the rows of terraced housing behind make that look unlikely. A shame though that some thought couldn't be put into smartening it up a bit and re-opening some of the terrace section, if you ask me.

The Quarry Lane End. Inset: Stickers on Turnstiles.

Being rather hungover from the night before, I was hoping to be able to sit in the corner of the away end and doze off for some of this game. That wasn't going to happen with the boisterous travelling Yellow Army in full voice after an unbeaten start to the season, was it?

And it became even more unlikely when the game kicked into life straightaway, as the home side took advantage of a very sluggish start from Oxford; Craig Westcarr slotting home a low drive into the bottom left corner after only 3 minutes.

Oxford were not in the races and Mansfield were driving forward trying to push home that advantage. On 7 minutes, Oxford keeper Slocombe committed a clumsy foul at the edge of his box and conceded a clear penalty.

Oxford attack late into the game.

This was unbelievably the first penalty Mansfield had been awarded in 86 games. Even more unbelievably, they missed it - when former Oxford Wembley hero and current Stags talisman Matt Green scooped the ball onto the crossbar. It was to be a painful miss for Mansfield.

Despite further first-half pressure and a couple of chances that Green should perhaps have also buried, Oxford were coming slowly back into the game.

It was honours even half-way through the second half when an absolutely atrocious foul just inside the penalty area by Mansfield's Reggie Lambe sent Callum O'Dowda flying about 6 foot in the air.

From where I was sat, it looked like one of the worst, highest tackles since the era of Billy Bremner. From the Mansfield seats, one Stags fan who messaged me after the game said this and the Oxford performance in general was one of the worst cases he'd ever seen of playing-up to the referee to get decisions!

Shows you how this is very much a game of opinions. However, I invite any Stags fan to view the above footage of said tackle (at about 1min 30) and declare on reflection that this is a fair tackle and/or a case of play-acting!

The resultant penalty was duly despatched and there, 30 mins later without too much further fuss, the match ended 1-1. A tale of two penalties, one taken, one not, the difference between the home side coming away with all 3 points and Oxford remaining unbeaten this season.

Keemar Roofe slots home Oxford's equalising penalty.

Another night in Mansfield was still ahead but thankfully, my Dad was feeling as jaded as I was so I could just blame it on him and not stay out too late two nights in a row!

We had just the one destination, and thankfully it wasn't the Ramme. The weekend finished as it had begun, in the "...and why not?" with my dad and my uncle, my cousin, and a few Stags & Oxford friends of old who popped in to say hello before heading off for an evening of alcohol-fuelled hedonism into the Mansfield night.

For me, this trip wasn't about getting pissed up post-match for a change, it was about spending time with the old man and visiting family and the sights of his childhood. And getting pissed up with him as well of course!

I've tried to find something special about each town I've visited on these trips around the 92 for the past year - and my dad's connection to Mansfield is certainly what is most special to me.

With thanks to Sam Binch (@MTFCMusings), Danny Catling (@owzatdan) Danny Mason & Dennis Mason.

NEXT TIME OUT - BRISTOL ROVERS! Sun 6th September!