The Slow Match Report: Berwick Rangers 2 Armadale Thistle 0

Cup interregnum proves a breath of fresh North Sea air for stuttering Wee Gers of the Lowland League

The clock had almost turned three when a bitter wind scarpered from the North Sea towards Shielfield Park, as if rushing to make kick-off. Its tentacles flicked the ears of those battle-hardened regulars trudging towards the ground and threatened to carry children off like lost helium balloons. “I knew it was gonna be cold today,” said an old man in the short turnstile queue, “because my knees were bad as soon as I woke up.”

After a disconcertingly mild few weeks, winter – proper, football winter – had arrived in the top pocket of Northumberland. Bobble hats were plucked from drawers and scarves decoupled from pegs. At this time of year, a football supporter’s plumage changes, just like that of so many other species.

Lately here, they have lived dismal times in all weathers. First came relegation from the league and then a near-calamitous overspend aimed at a quick return, always a senseless gamble like playing hook-a-duck in a tempest. This season started in a most uncommon fashion, with four victories; since then, The Gers have lost 10 times, twice conceding seven goals at home. Last week, against Albion Rovers, they won a league game here for the first time since July. “It was just nice to want to stay to the end of a match,” said one regular as he took his place up on the Ducket terrace.

Now arrived distraction in the form of an East of Scotland Qualifying Cup tie against Armadale Thistle, lodged three divisions beneath Berwick. Early on, Dale players wore a demeanour which articulated that gulf. They scuffed the ball and conceded possession to imaginary foes. Their football was panicked and hurried, as if they were a school team who had arrived late due to a double booking of the minibus. For Berwick, winger Matty Collins exploited their hysteria, cutting inside and smacking a post with a long-range effort. Soon afterwards forward Jamie Watson connived some space on the area’s edge, but then punted a shot which cleared the crossbar convincingly. The ball rolled slowly back from the cinder track that lassoes the Shielfield pitch. It looked embarrassed, as if on a 5am walk of shame, stilettoes in hand.

Bobble hats - and a bobbly pitch - were the order of the day

Soon afterwards, home exertions were rewarded. Rayan Mohammed – on loan from Dundee and sprightly all afternoon – pestered a mistake from The Dale, whose centre-halves seemed to act as if politely holding a door for him. Goalkeeper Andrew Murphy lunged forward and lashed a clearance which struck Mohammed and skedaddled into the net. He celebrated fervently as if in his back garden and imagining mass salutations inside some pulsating coliseum of football. Viva Mohammed, because the game needs more of this besotted behaviour and cold days require heat.

The scorer continued to perturb visiting defenders, and probably should have netted again when through on goal. Deep tactical analysis now flowed from enthused Ducket regulars – “C’mon Berwick, these are fucking mince” and “Intae these clowns, Rangers.”

This criticism, audible as ice cream van chimes on a Sunday morning, seemed to spur something in Thistle. First, forward Kameron Jackson – who must spend at least half his week saying “No, it’s ‘Kameron’ with a ‘K’” – span clear and was only stopped by a robust Alfie Robinson challenge. Robinson’s intervention dislodged a clod of penalty area turf the size and shape of an otter. The groans of the Berwick groundsman could be heard in space.

Then left-back Gavin Hamilton rambled forward some 60 yards; however, such is Shielfield’s bobbly playing surface, the ball eventually ran away from him with the trajectory of a roast potato skidding across a carvery pub floor. Minutes later, the excellent Robinson nutted home a free-kick crossed in luxuriously by Ben McCrystal. It was only 2-0, we had not yet reached half-time, and yet deep down every one of the 300 or so people present surely knew that this cup tie was over. Armadale were now the job candidate who had dropped an f-bomb early in an interview but still had to see it out to the end.

The maltings factory towers, above Shielfield’s cinder track, providing an arthouse backdrop - and soundtrack - to a very traditional cup tie

In the second half they pressed forward but rarely hassled Robinson and his defensive colleagues. Berwick played a contented, relaxed form of football, occasionally stirring to raid Murphy’s goal but then changing their mind about shooting as if they did not want to upset him. Supporters responded to this static mire with a thick hush. Monotonous whirring noises from the maltings factory behind one end began to dominate, an industrial soundtrack that momentarily transformed the match into a modern art installation none of us understood.

Over in the main stand, attention turned to the beautiful moon now rising above Shielfield. “It’s a Hunter’s Moon, that,” said one old boy through a mouth otherwise occupied by a persistent toffee. For a while, his friends said nothing, then one of them offered a werewolf sound and another muttered something about next week’s game against Cowdenbeath.

The butter-coloured lit windows of a passing train offered thoughts of warmth and being elsewhere, but I for one was glad of the ill-winds that blow football our way.

Enjoy Daniel’s writing? Nutmeg - in partnership with award-winning publishers BackPage Press – have released a photo essay book by Daniel and photographer Alan McCredie. In this elegant print documentary, the two follow the 150th year of the Scottish Cup (across season 2023-24) from hamlet to Hampden.