When the League Two clubs voted last week to cancel the 2019/20 season, they turned the clock back 34 years. Stevenage finish bottom but (subject to ratification) remain in the league. In effect, they have become the first club to be chosen by their peers to stay in the Football League since Exeter City, Cambridge United, Preston North End and Torquay United on 23 May 1986.
It used to be known as ‘applying for re-election’. There was no formal application in last Friday’s deliberations. Stevenage were bottom of League Two with 10 games to play when the current season reached what turns out to have been its conclusion in March. They were three points adrift of Macclesfield but had a game in hand. The League Two clubs apparently took the not unreasonable view that it would be grotesquely unfair to relegate Stevenage without giving them a chance to play their way out of trouble.
The support of other league clubs also formed the basis of the re-election system. As a means of deciding what happened to the teams in the bottom four positions of the fourth tier, re-election always looked like something of a formality. In theory, 112 non-league clubs might have ascended into the Football League in the 28 seasons during which the re-election process applied, from the founding of the Fourth Division in 1958 to promotion/relegation from 1986 onwards. In the event, five scrambled on board.
The non-league community used to regard re-election as an example of the ‘Old Pals Act’ in operation. When Saturday Comes pulled no punches: “In the smoke-filled rooms of London’s Café Royal the same old representatives of the same rotting clubs gathered enough votes each year to remain stagnant at the bottom of Division Four.”
Among the repeat offenders at the league’s lowest levels, Hartlepool United successfully applied for re-election 11 times in this period. That’s not far off every other year. On the other hand, Oldham Athletic provide a kind of vindication for the system by having gone through the process twice before becoming founder members of the Premier League.
The expectation is that Stevenage’s good fortune will not be at the expense of Barrow. The Cumbrian club has led the National League since mid-November and had a 4-point lead on 14 March. Poor Bury will have to be replaced in the EFL structure and that leaves an opening for Barrow.
Barrow people must be heartily sick of seeing their town stereotyped. A couple of days before my visit Barrow happened to appear on the ITV News. The reporter was flogging a ‘Death of the High Street’ horse. Boarded-up premises and proprietors with stiff upper lips were prominent. If ITV found anything attractive to point their cameras at, the editors chose not to show it.
Where might they have looked? The snowy uplands of the Lake District, perhaps. Or the Walney Island seashore, barely 20mins walk from the town centre. To get there they’d have passed the Dock Museum and crossed a bridge with views Constable might have painted, in either direction. On the natural skyline, brooding promontories slope down to the sea; above the town’s streets, dramatic Victorian towers and spires soar.
Barrow is a town of sweeping vistas and unexpected
panoramas. In part this is a result of Victorian town-planning. The town
centre’s grid system carries the eye down otherwise ordinary streets to
horizons improbable distances away. A number of the principle thoroughfares are
so wide you’d wonder whether Baron Haussmann did some moonlighting here. They
tend to flow into each other at elaborately decorative roundabouts.
One such boulevard is Holker Street, which older readers
will recognise as identifying Barrow AFC’s ground in days of yore. Holker
Street runs from the railway station to the Progression Solicitors Stadium and
has pavements that must be 10 or 12ft wide. If these are not the widest
pavements expediting the movement of large numbers of people to or from an
English football ground, I’d be very surprised. (As if to compensate, the
Wilkie Road pavement running along the north side of the ground is so narrow
you’re more or less obliged to jaywalk.)
Barrow is also a town of unexpected squares, many of them
given over to car-parks. During the last war the German bomb-aimers were
notoriously inaccurate, hitting the town as often as the docks; if these
squares are the result at least some good came of it. Even where there are cars
there are generally also encircling trees. In the absence of cars, you’ll find grass
and an occasional memorial, often complemented by statuary, plaques or other
features. Barrow is a town of oddly shaped benches: some commemorative, some
sponsored, some just expressive of a bench-maker’s joie de vivre.
The statues also vary. In the middle of roundabouts and outside
the magnificent town hall there are conventional frock-coated Victorians.
Elsewhere monuments of different characters recall Barrow’s industrial,
nautical and sporting past. Emlyn Hughes is one of the first you’ll encounter
if you arrive by train.
In the centre of the shopping district a bronze grouping
called The Spirit of Barrow is particularly wonderful. From some angles the
four large shipyard workers have a Soviet-era look, and the words ‘Courage’,
‘Labour, ‘Skill’ and ‘Progress’ around the base reinforce that. But the quartet
suggests Pride in and Affection for the town and it lifts the spirits.
There’s more Barrovian baroque at the Dock Museum. This occupies an old dry dock close to the Walney Island bridge. On the day I visited, the Significant Form exhibition of the South Lakes Art Collective opened in the atmospheric space at the lower level of the dock. Above, there are displays celebrating Barrow’s history – natural and industrial. Not surprisingly, the models of vessels built in Barrow are sensational (and in the case of one submarine in particular, quite chilling). Equally sensational and not at all chilling was the flapjack in the museum café.
Notable buildings (aside from the Town Hall) include the one
now occupied by the Citizens Advice Bureau. This was formerly the bath-house
presented to the town in 1872 by Sir James Ramsden, the town’s first mayor and
the man most regularly credited with bringing industry and prosperity to it. He
also brought the most remarkable pair of mutton-chops.
Next door on Abbey Road is the Nan Tait Centre, now an arts
centre but originally in 1900 Barrow’s Technical School. Redbrick, terracotta
and vast panels representing Ars Longa Vita Brevis and Labor Omnia Vincit –
what more could you want?
Devonshire Dock Hall sounds as if it could be another
Victorian palais, perhaps where Music Hall breathed its last in 1914. It is,
certainly, one of the most prominent buildings in the town: it’s the six-pack
on steroids that butts into the town’s southern horizon like a theatre flat. Occupied
by BAE Systems, it is an indoor shipbuilding complex.
The sea-front is well worth a detour. Apart from anything
else it’s a pleasant walk (or a short bus ride). It takes you through
Vickerstown, a UK example of a phenomenon more common – and notorious – in the
USA: the company town. The provision of housing for employees sounds
enlightened but it could equally represent self-interest as companies sought to
discourage unionisation, offset wage rises by rent increases etc.
Along Central Drive, the Irish Sea soon fills the skyline. The
horizon looks as if it is ring-fenced by turbines: what you’re looking at is the
Walney Wind Farm, the largest offshore wind farm in the world according to the
BBC. Opinion will vary about whether it’s unsightly: I’d say No, and I’d offer
in support the decision of ITV not to show it. The turbines are far enough away
to be matchstick figures on the horizon and you could make a case for them
providing points of interest in the view.
The beach here is of pebbles. I’m told you’ll find sand
further along the front in both directions; behind Walney there are mud-flats
and to the east is Morecambe Bay. In other words, the variety of marine
environments is wide. And in the background is the Lake District. It’s quite a
place.
* While I was taking a photograph of The Spirit of Barrow, a couple of buskers offered a spirited version of Wish You Were Here. I happily made a donation but I was less sure about the sentiment. Did I wish You were here? If I’d invited You to Barrow, in January, You might think the magic had gone. But I was guilty of the stereotyping decried at the top of this piece. I withdraw the remark and apologise. Don’t let anything discourage you from going to see Barrow, at any time of year – and go by train.
Barrow 2 Bromley 0 Progression Solicitors Stadium, 18 January 2020