York Road 150

This was written for the commemorative edition of the Maidenhead United programme to mark 150 years of playing at York Road.

Photo credit: Marc Keinch

Psychotherapist Anthony de Mello wrote that "We yearn for change, but cling to the familiar", to describe a paradox of the human condition. The phrase accurately reflects my view of the history of our York Road ground, an arena that has, and indeed still does require significant improvement, but nevertheless has a permanence that means it has always felt like home. 

My earliest memories of what perhaps should be formally referred to as the Desborough (nee Grenfell) Sports round, are primarily the glow of the floodlights which I could see from my north facing childhood bedroom in Courtlands and the sight that confirmed the beginning or the end of a London bound train journey. 

A first visit in April 1979 to watch the Magpies play a Berger Isthmian Division One match against Harwich & Parkeston left an impression that lasts to this day. Oddly the bits I remember are those that persist. The approach between the terraced houses to the Bell Street turnstile. The rowdy atmosphere of the Bell Street terrace created by the tin roof (mainly due to away fans on this occasion). The pitch sloping down to York stream. Mick Chatterton. The lack of programmes. Yet beyond the shelf, everything has changed. 

Sadly the old stand burned down in 1986, replaced in 2014 by a worthy successor, a generation of  seated spectators having had to make do with the shed which in 1979 essentially covered a dryish patch of mud. The far end received a millennium roof whilst in 2016 even the white elephant of the undercover car park was given a purpose when it became the cage. Thanks to the opening titles of the fim Yesterday’s Hero, my first sight of York Road is preserved forever (fortunately the pitch is much improved too) but all the changes were long overdue and much more is still required.

This is the story of York Road, always trying to catch up but never quite making it except by the letter of the ground grading regulations. It started back on this day in 1870 when association football managed to squeeze in, appropriately at the Bell Street end, with a pitch running north to south, presumably to avoid damaging the cricket square. Soccer took its place alongside the summer leather hunting, tennis and bowls which already occupied the site, a multi sports relationship which lasted until 2019 when the latter sport moved to its new venue, cricket having departed post world war two and tennis in the 1960s. 

The destruction by fire led to the pavilion being rebuilt in 1892 which caused a much loved elm tree overhanging the new construction to being chopped down in 1894 and carted off to High Wycombe by a traction engine, an event that prompted the Advertiser’s “Looker On” to “almost shed a tear”. The football club’s purchase of the football ground in 1921, from the consortium which had bought the whole site from the Desborough family a year earlier, led to the erection of the original stand. Eventually the supporters were given more than old railway sleepers to stand upon. The Bell Street roof was raised for the first time in 1964 and yet this was an era which saw York Road referred to as inadequate to progress. The glorious Corinthian League era when three titles were won in five years was in part due to the Magpies being repeatedly rejected for election to the more senior Athenian league despite the elevation of many of their league rivals. In 1969 the club room (little changed today as Stripes) was slammed by supporters as being in dire need of improvement. 

50 years later we find ourselves playing in a nationwide division, which requires clubs to move towards developing a Football League graded ground which for York Road would involve many millions of capital expenditure not to mention the question of how to continue holding matches whilst the work took place. 

Nevertheless the thrill of going to the ground remains. When living in Grenfell Road I would look forward to my first sight of the floodlight pylons on my walk down the hill, now I keenly look out of the window as the train approaches the station in eager anticipation of the match to come. I look forward to the slope’s ability to influence the result as opponents run out of pitch heading towards York Stream, and look on confused at the relish with which United hare uphill deep into the second half stoppage, each sally forth igniting the roar of the Bell Street terrace, which has lost none of its potency despite the egregious intervention of segregation fences. 

Occasionally I may sit at the back of the stand to take in the view, the awesome foreground wiping out the urban blight behind it. This season I’ve had the privilege of walking onto the pitch just before the teams kick off, turning right to shinny up the ladder to the TV gantry. It's in this position, with the railway embankment framing the scene, that I cling to the familiar sight in front of me whilst yearning for the change that awaits on the other side of the tracks.

Happy birthday York Road, you may not see many more, but your tales will be told through the ages.