A few years ago, we found a nice plot of land in North London. The council offered games on it via their website, so we booked them. We weren't expecting a great pitch - we're bad at cricket, and don't need one -just something vaguely even would do the job.
Upon arriving at the ground we found that we'd basically been offered a section of the outfield, slightly mown and with crease lines painted on it. A furious letter to the council followed.
At the next game, we arrived to find a 22-yard strip on the outfield had been shorn of all grass, leaving a section of hard soil upon which to play. Needless to say it disintegrated after about an over. More furious communication and threats to leave. This time, lots of energetic noises about putting more effort into the upkeep. Such noises continued every week. Every week we arrived at the ground to find a different style of minefield. Sometimes there was no grass. Sometimes the grass had mysteriously reappeared, replete with daisies and weeds in the middle.
After several months of this kind of thing we finally got the truth out of a local resident: the groundsman wasn't a groundsman at all, he was a gardener, whose primary job was tending to the hedgerows and flowers, before the council decided to offer sports at the ground. He didn't know anything about cricket, nor what constituted a wicket. He just thought the grass had to be short. What was all the fuss about?
We approached the council with an offer. It was pretty simple. We were paying next to nothing for the ground, but we were receiving next to nothing in return. It was clear the "groundsman" had no idea what he was doing, so we'd get in someone who did to do the initial work, which we could pay for. After that we'd tend to it ourselves, sending someone from the club up to use the roller from a nearby bowling green once a week or so. At the lowest level of cricket the tiniest bit of upkeep will do. Springfield Park in Hackney is a pretty bad wicket, but people are still happy to play there. London Fields has had enormous effort put into it by the local club - it's taken them a few years, but it's starting to become a very good pitch.
We were offering:
- 15 to 20 guaranteed games from us, the possibility to rent the ground out for 15 to 20 more and (assuming the pitch was vaguely serviceable) all at a ballpark cost of £85-£90 a time. This, rather than offering it at £65 a time but no one actually using it. We'd already found one local club who promised at least 10 bookings if the pitch was improved.
- Opportunity for DCMS funding - which can run into the tens of thousands - because kids from above local club could use the facilities. Hell, some of us would even be prepared to get coaching qualifications and help out (those who can't, teach).
- £50 a time for the park community group who run the pavilion and would be catering for us.
- It was going to be our ground, so as such the first place we'd look to spend any profits from our club would be on upkeep.
- In return, the council had to do...well, nothing, other than give assent.
I'm not a businessman. But I can't help but think a private landowner would have gone for it.
The only demand was that this had to happen vaguely quickly: the quality of our cricket matches was rapidly deteriorating. Our top batsman for the season averaged 23. Needless to say, it didn't get past first base. I could go into details of the Kafkaesque hell of trying to find out what had happened to our offer, who was considering it, why it was nominally turned down, the real reason why it was turned down, and on and on, but I'm thinking the post is tedious enough.
The council obfuscated, ummed and ahhed and finally filibustered our efforts into oblivion. Using a roller had safety implications (but not attempting to bat on an outfield). The "groundsman" would be offended if we took his new job off him (he'd actually have been over the moon). On and on it went, until midway through the next season we gave up. The venue remains unused by cricketers.
I'm not a slash-and-burn Tory, I'm really not. But a year and a half of this shit, of being completely strung along, can do strange things to you. No one in the council thought it was a bad idea. They just didn't want to be responsible for it. It was made worse at a personal level by the fact that our club's decision to give this place a go was largely lead by me. Dozens of people trying to make the best of a terrible, terrible pitch, and every week you're conscious it's your fault.
The problem isn't with individuals - it's with the system. But that system is the responsibility of individuals. If you make it a bureaucratic nightmare to get things done, and you take away any real financial incentive, then guess what? They don't get done.
Upon arriving at the ground we found that we'd basically been offered a section of the outfield, slightly mown and with crease lines painted on it. A furious letter to the council followed.
At the next game, we arrived to find a 22-yard strip on the outfield had been shorn of all grass, leaving a section of hard soil upon which to play. Needless to say it disintegrated after about an over. More furious communication and threats to leave. This time, lots of energetic noises about putting more effort into the upkeep. Such noises continued every week. Every week we arrived at the ground to find a different style of minefield. Sometimes there was no grass. Sometimes the grass had mysteriously reappeared, replete with daisies and weeds in the middle.
After several months of this kind of thing we finally got the truth out of a local resident: the groundsman wasn't a groundsman at all, he was a gardener, whose primary job was tending to the hedgerows and flowers, before the council decided to offer sports at the ground. He didn't know anything about cricket, nor what constituted a wicket. He just thought the grass had to be short. What was all the fuss about?
We approached the council with an offer. It was pretty simple. We were paying next to nothing for the ground, but we were receiving next to nothing in return. It was clear the "groundsman" had no idea what he was doing, so we'd get in someone who did to do the initial work, which we could pay for. After that we'd tend to it ourselves, sending someone from the club up to use the roller from a nearby bowling green once a week or so. At the lowest level of cricket the tiniest bit of upkeep will do. Springfield Park in Hackney is a pretty bad wicket, but people are still happy to play there. London Fields has had enormous effort put into it by the local club - it's taken them a few years, but it's starting to become a very good pitch.
We were offering:
- 15 to 20 guaranteed games from us, the possibility to rent the ground out for 15 to 20 more and (assuming the pitch was vaguely serviceable) all at a ballpark cost of £85-£90 a time. This, rather than offering it at £65 a time but no one actually using it. We'd already found one local club who promised at least 10 bookings if the pitch was improved.
- Opportunity for DCMS funding - which can run into the tens of thousands - because kids from above local club could use the facilities. Hell, some of us would even be prepared to get coaching qualifications and help out (those who can't, teach).
- £50 a time for the park community group who run the pavilion and would be catering for us.
- It was going to be our ground, so as such the first place we'd look to spend any profits from our club would be on upkeep.
- In return, the council had to do...well, nothing, other than give assent.
I'm not a businessman. But I can't help but think a private landowner would have gone for it.
The only demand was that this had to happen vaguely quickly: the quality of our cricket matches was rapidly deteriorating. Our top batsman for the season averaged 23. Needless to say, it didn't get past first base. I could go into details of the Kafkaesque hell of trying to find out what had happened to our offer, who was considering it, why it was nominally turned down, the real reason why it was turned down, and on and on, but I'm thinking the post is tedious enough.
The council obfuscated, ummed and ahhed and finally filibustered our efforts into oblivion. Using a roller had safety implications (but not attempting to bat on an outfield). The "groundsman" would be offended if we took his new job off him (he'd actually have been over the moon). On and on it went, until midway through the next season we gave up. The venue remains unused by cricketers.
I'm not a slash-and-burn Tory, I'm really not. But a year and a half of this shit, of being completely strung along, can do strange things to you. No one in the council thought it was a bad idea. They just didn't want to be responsible for it. It was made worse at a personal level by the fact that our club's decision to give this place a go was largely lead by me. Dozens of people trying to make the best of a terrible, terrible pitch, and every week you're conscious it's your fault.
The problem isn't with individuals - it's with the system. But that system is the responsibility of individuals. If you make it a bureaucratic nightmare to get things done, and you take away any real financial incentive, then guess what? They don't get done.
I can't wait for Part 2
ReplyDeleteAll I can say is that if Haringey Council can't look after a few blades of grass, why were people so surprised that they couldn't look after Baby P?
ReplyDelete