Hanging up my Hat at Hurlford

After seven years, 116 adventures and more pints than could possibly be tallied, the time had finally come for me to face the final curtain. Of all the places I could have chosen to be the focus of my last ever chapter, the village of Hurlford near Kilmarnock might have seemed a rather unusual choice, but there were two reasons I picked this particular corner of East Ayrshire to finish up as The Fitba Nomad. First was the fact that this small settlement had produced such a massive amount of top footballers (from Sandy Turnbull who won the FA Cup with both big Manchester sides, to Sheffield United & Preston North End legend Ian Bryson) that it has been declared “Scotland’s Football Nursery”. Thus locating my retirement at the place where so many started their footballing journey seemed rather poetic to me. The second, much larger, reason for coming here to make my last stand was because of Hurlford United herself and her absolutely awesome fans. Prior to this swan song I’d seen The Ford in action twice, once many years ago at Sauchie Juniors, then again last November up at Hermes, and at each encounters traveling supporters arrived by the coach load and roared on their team to victory. I saw that the Hurlford faithful were ridiculously dedicated, incredibly funny and supremely friendly folk, who earned extra admiration from me by drinking both club’s bars dry before half time. If Ford’s fans could come across so well during the times I encountered them away from home, particularly in the middle 362 mile round trip to an Aberdonian industrial estate, then I had to see what they were like on their own turf before my time was over. However, regardless of whether a town’s history or club’s supporters brought me here, I knew a trip to Blair Park would never provide anything less than a great ending to my trilogy.

My hosts were founded back in 1912, but even the tiniest details regarding their birth and formative years were virtually impossible to uncover. It is my belief that Blair Park has been The Ford’s home since the beginning, however I am willing to be told otherwise. The first green shoots of success for the club didn’t poke their heid up oot the ground until Ayrshire League Cup & Irvine Times Cup wins in the mid-forties, while consistent silverware collection only began in the late 1960s. Then in 1972/73 something special occurred, under the tutelage of a man we’ll get to later, Hurlford went the entire league campaign undefeated and easily galloped off with the Ayrshire First Division title. If you thought that was impressive you’d be quite amazed by their record in the new millennium; two West of Scotland Cup Finals with one win, a West of Scotland League Cup victory as well as lifting Ayrshire’s Cup & League Cup. The cherry on top of all this was a pair of Scottish Junior Cup Final appearances a few years apart. In 2018 they lost a thriller at Rugby Park, 3-2 to the often unstoppable Auchinleck Talbot, in front of nearly five thousand. Thankfully five years earlier, at the same venue but with an extra thousand in attendance, The Ford handed Glenafton Athletic a proper doin’ by scoring three without reply, lifting that famous trophy for the first and only time.

The wonderfully named & gloriously coiffed Walker McCall starts off our look at former Ford greats. The striker was a product of Hurlford United, who left Blair Park in 1973 for a playing career that took him twice to Pittodrie as well as around the globe. After Walker’s first spell at Aberdeen he joined the US seventies soccer boom at San Diego Sockers & Atlanta Chiefs, giving him the opportunity to face off against the likes of Franz Beckenbauer, Johan Neeskens & George Best. Then, despite forays to Hong Kong & Dundee after his 1980 Dons return, McCall settled in The Granite City and I actually met him at Hurlford’s match at Hermes last year. Up next was a midfielder forged just twelve miles away at Troon, who ended a fine career with this afternoon’s hosts and happened to be a favourite of mine in the seminal 01/02 edition of Championship Manager. David Bagan departed Portland Park in 1996, joining Kilmarnock where he won the 1997 Scottish Cup after playing eighty five minutes of the final against Falkirk. The Scotland U21 starlet went on to have positive spells at Inverness Caledonian Thistle & Dumbarton, before joining The Ford in 2007. Finally, we have another successful Killie man whose playing career concluded at Blair Park; Kilwinning born Davie Sneddon. The forward played for Dundee & Preston North End prior to his arrival at Rugby Park, where he won the league in 1965 as part of the last team from a town to do so. At The Ford he was the player-manager responsible for that ‘Invincibles’ season, making it a double wi’ the ’73 Ayrshire Cup and thus he soon returned to Kilmarnock as gaffer. From the Rugby Park dugout Sneddon won the short-lived, but prestigious, Tennent Caledonian Cup and in retirement was rightfully appointed a Member of the British Empire for services to both club and community.

Pre-Match Pints

To make the final adventure feel more significant I booked the night afore in The Park Hotel, meaning that I arrived in Kilmarnock for only the second time ever and had a Friday night out to enjoy. Last time I sank pints in the uniquely monikered Fanny by Gaslight and the award winning Tartan Sheep, this time an invite from the landlord brought me to a real Killie institution: The Kadikoi Bar. The name was an unusual one, but a quick Google investigation shows that The Battle of Balaclava is called The Battle of Kadikoi by Russians and thus the place is named after a Crimean War campaign. The pub doesn’t look like a battlefield however, as both inside & out she has very recently been done up. A fine beer garden looks across the road to a Morrisons, while the interior, despite being open plan, was divided into three distinct areas. There is a zone devoted to pool & darts, with a light blue Killie baize on the table and two boards at the end of perfectly measured oches. Zone two is a snug covered in luxurious wallpaper, depicting partridges or other such posh birds, where folk watched the Dundee United vs Partick Thistle game away from the boisterous bar.

Ah the bar, the pulsating heart of this boozer, where brilliant regulars of all ages & degrees of pishedness (from totally to utterly) gather round a quarter circle counter. Here we had Cruzcampo, Fosters, Tennents & Madri, while one font offers up a selection of fruity flavoured Thatcher’s Ciders. If a pint ain’t for you then there was a vast selection of weird shots to be consumed and you don’t even need to waste time choosing one, as a Wheel of Fortune style device picks for you. In ‘The Kadi’ fate decides whether you receive a Buckie Bomb, Slippery Nipple, Baby Guinness or an After Shock. Overall this shoap was great, three regulars even took me to one side at different points to tell me how special their local is and how important the Kadi is to them. That’s a level of devotion many landlords desire, but find hard to generate.

The next morning I remembered what a work colleague from around these parts had said to me; “It’s funny you chose Star Wars Day, May the 4th, to go visit Mos Eisley”. However as my taxi glided into Hurlford it was clear this village was no “wretched hive of scum & villainy”, nor was The Thistle some wild cantina where even the heroes occasionally need to shoot first. My first & only Hurlford boozer was in fact a peaceful beauty, located in the old Masonic Hall it has kept the ornate wood panelling, a hint of the checkerboard floor and a bronze statue of Robert Burns. Sadly trouser legs were fully rolled down throughout my time here and the ceremonial goat was no longer tied up in a corner. John Smiths was just £3.40 for a pint of creamy excellence, the boozer was spotless at opening time on a Saturday and this was the only bar within twenty miles not punting discount Venoms.  Whether you happen to be a Grand Master or Master Jedi, The Thistle was a perfectly lovely pub to ‘force’ a few drinks down your throat.

The Ground

Arriving at Blair Park I got little chance to see the ground before being whisked into Maggie’s Bar for very generous complimentary drinks. No draught, but canned/beers & ciders in a vast number of varieties beyond my count and plenty spirits too. A fine room, that is part portakabin & part shipping container, there was space for dozens of drinkers with the walls covered in Ford memorabilia and a few fancy foreign shirts. The giant floor to ceiling canvases of local heroes were impressive, never seen the likes of thone. Gradually I was joined by those brilliant Hurlford fans, many I recognise with loads welcoming me to their home. The banter flowed and one punter said that other clubs must have fans who enjoy such a rare laugh before a game. I reply with “Perhaps there is, but not on my travels.”

Out for the game with a wee spring in my step, and a minor reduction in balance, I get a proper look at a grand auld junior ground. Nothing fancy, but none the less gorgeous, she allows supporters to stand close around three sides of a slightly undulating pitch with the changing rooms in a fine building at one corner and Maggie’s next to it behind the goal. An ‘away end’ touchline had well maintained tarmac terracing just a few steps high with a wee shelter the size of a goal mouth, while the home end was much the same but with another, much larger, covered area at the halfway line. Surrounded by council houses and a Kirk, Blair Park feels very enclosed and being so close to the pitch from any angle means you can feel very much part of the action. Finally the food stall was a massive operation, going beyond the normally acceptable realm of pie ‘n Bovril. Burgers were being flipped, chips deep fried and curry sauce was applied liberally to whatever you fancied. Those women serving might have had a tougher shift than the lads playing the game today.

The Game

A second season in a row ends with me watching Arthurlie attempting to avoid relegation against a team secure in their status as a Premier Division side for another year. As a result many Ford fans feared defeat in what a few called a ‘nothing game’. Unfortunately it was one of those matches that provided little to write home about and for the first quarter of an hour I concentrated on what they called a Onion Pie (it was Scotch) & chips that were like the ones my Granny used to make; all gobbled down in a particularly vulgar manner. But, just as the timers hit seventeen minutes, Hurlford’s Kris Kerr, with a flash of his bleach blonde hair, almost gave our hosts the lead. He didn’t and in a near instant reply The ‘Lie took a really good chance and smashed it several miles wide. Kerr continued to impress but that was it all in a quiet first forty five.

At the break I was asked pitch side to make the half time draw (thank Christ I hadn’t entered) and was humbled to be introduced to the crowd and presented with a signed club pennant to commemorate my final game. I was greatly touched by this wonderfully kind gesture. Spending the beginning of the second half in the beer garden to the side of Maggie’s, I watched Love score very near the restart with a free header to put Hurlford into the lead. Ford became like sharks, sensing blood in the water and for the next quarter of an hour they applied pressure, going for the kill. Arthurlie needed to do something to preserve their top flight status and an equaliser in  roughly the seventieth minute from Dylan Fletcher ended a poor period of play for The ‘Lie. In the end the visitors got the much needed victory after Mark Docherty smashed a penalty straight down the middle. Not a great game, but a typical end of season clash where the result is meaningless to one or both sides.

The Aftermath

Ending my adventures at Hurlford United was exactly the right thing to do. I loved my evening in Kilmarnock, a town I’d never have visited with ever being The Fitba Nomad. I have much gratitude to the landlord of the Kadikoi Bar for inviting me down to his tremendous boozer, not only was it great to meet someone with familial connections to Menstrie (where I grew up),  it was fantastic to spend a few hours in a proper pub packed with genuine (and pished) regulars. It was such a fun venue and I totally recommend the place for a night out. As for Hurlford, I saw little of her as the taxis whizzed round, but I can vouch for the quality of 50% of her boozers. Plus, at Blair Park, I was once again shown the qualities of her people: friendly, funny, welcoming & warm.

As for Hurlford United, I was lavished with drinks, gifts & recognition on my final adventure and I can’t thank them enough. Thone Maggie needs recognising too as she might be the hardest working person in Scottish fitba; a ratio of fifty punters to one bar staff, nae bother and she was constantly round cleaning the empties. For someone who is such a massive Ford fan that she got a large laser etched club crest for her Christmas, it was a tragedy she never stops long enough to actually see any of the game. Folk like her help make the non-league game great. The only downside on a brilliant last day was the match itself, but end of season clashes are often utter snooze fests and this tie never dropped to that level. Finally it is worth saying that this afternoon was always going to be important to me as my 117th and final adventure, but it should have meant bugger all to Hurlford United. Yet they chose to make something special of The Fitba Nomad’s last dance and that shows how great a club they are. While The Nomad is now no more, the bloke behind the badge will never forget what the folk at The Ford did for him this day.