Op-Ed \ Ed Draper

England's Second Division lacks glamor, but can provide gratifying experience.

BOURNEMOUTH, England (Tuesday, December 30, 2003) -- Devoted followers of English Premier League teams expect only the best when they go to a game.

They expect to watch the Match in big, modernistic, all-seater stadiums. They expect to be able to shop in mega-stores where they can buy anything from replica jerseys to crockery sets in their team colors. The top teams, the Manchester Uniteds and Chelseas of this world, have built fancy restaurants to cater for those "posh" fans whose pallets do not tingle tantalizingly at the thought of meat pie and beer (the traditional soccer fare).

Premiership fans who have delicate constitutions and money to spare can now shelter from the elements in plush executive boxes. In recent years, several Premiership clubs have even added hotel complexes, so visitors from far-flung lands (or just those who drink too much to drive home) can sleep within spitting distance of their heroes' place of work. However, as you descend down the leagues, the level of hospitality offered fans decreases proportionally, as I learned attending the Bournemouth-Plymouth Second Division match on Boxing Day.

It's "Boxing Day" (the day after Christmas and national holiday in Britain), it's cold and pouring with rain and my Second Division debut is to be in Bournemouth, a quaint town on the south coast of England, famous more for its retirement homes than its soccer team. However, attending a soccer match on Boxing Day is an English tradition and one clearly still practiced in Bournemouth. As we drive through the narrow streets that lead to the stadium, we are surrounded on all sides by fans walking to the game, most adorned with the dark purple colors of the home team.

The first big difference you notice between Second Division and Premiership football is the accessibility of the stadium. In the Premiership, fans ( except for the rich and famous) are forced to park miles away from the stadium and probably end up covering more ground on game day than their team's star striker. However, at Bournemouth, fans can park right outside the stadium in the club parking lot.

I say parking lot; really it's just a vast dirt area where, in the absence of drawn-out spaces and traffic-directing stewards, people can and do park wherever they see open ground. Chaotic would be severely understating the scene as drivers, desperately searching for places to stow their automobiles, narrowly avoid running over pedestrians who themselves are trying to navigate their way around foot-deep puddles.

After managing to avoid both death by drowning or being run over, you make it out of the parking lot to be greeted with the next and perhaps biggest difference between Premiership and Second Division soccer: the stadium. I say stadium, and indeed Bournemouth's home patch is called Fitness First Stadium (after the club's sponsor) but, for me, the word stadium, in its most basic sense, infers a structure with four sides; at Bournemouth there are only three.

As I stared, open-mouthed through the open end of the ground onto the field, it struck me that this stadium has more in common with non-league, dilapidated venues that it does the majestic pieces of architecture which host Premiership matches. The stadium is a world away even from Columbus Crew stadium, my local Major League Soccer team when I'm in the United States. The open-end aside, the three sets of bleachers, themselves only twenty rows deep, evoked vivid memories of playing amateur soccer for my hometown team.

When I passed on my thoughts to my companion, an old college buddy and loyal Bournemouth fan, he seemed slightly offended and said that I should "count myself lucky, last season we only had two sides. They built the third one when we got promoted."

Nonetheless, for this Manchester United fan, used to the finest stadium in the land, the sight of the Fitness First Stadium was slightly shocking. This shock passed to anger and resentment moments later, when I discovered that I would have to spend the equivalent of $30 for the pleasure of spending my afternoon in this most humble of soccer environs.

At Bournemouth, there is no megastore. Instead, fans buy club scarves and replica shirts from a market stall outside the ground. I didn't spot any crockery or team underwear for sale, but there were plenty of hats. Unsurprisingly, the refreshments on offer are more basic than those available at the homes of elite, cosmopolitan teams such as Arsenal, Manchester United and Chelsea. There are no restaurants, just stands selling junk food, at rather exorbitant prices. One has the choice of hot dog, beef burger or the traditional meat pie. Needless to say, anyone looking to spend the night on the site of the stadium would have to sleep in their car, in the state-of-the-art parking lot, as there is no hotel.

The standard of play also lags well behind Premiership, First Division and, indeed, MLS levels. Even Bournemouth, which is noted in the Second Division for playing "pretty football," often resorted to playing long balls into the opposition's defense and, on this day, had the most success in this game when they did so. Indeed, the fact that its opponent, Plymouth, roared into a 2-0 lead by halftime owed more to the visitor's higher level of tenacity, aggression and speed than it did its superior skill level. This much was seemingly confirmed when a renewed, upbeat Bournemouth side took to the field in the second half, grabbed control of the game and subsequently laid siege to the Plymouth goal for much of the final 45 minutes.

However, Bournemouth was unable to convert any of the many chances it created and Plymouth consolidated its position at the top of the league. Despite being more "blood and guts" than "skill and guile," the match actually was very entertaining, with a truckload of chances for both teams. The swirling wind and driving rain made life hard for both teams' defenses, as time and time again the ball ricocheted around the penalty areas, with goal-mouth scrambles occurring almost every five minutes.

While the facilities may be far from luxurious, the atmosphere at this second division game was great. People everywhere seemed to be chatting and laughing. Even the pain of imminent defeat didn't seem to dampen the spirits of the home team. When Bournemouth went 2-0 down there was little of the booing and profane chanting that often colors the air at Premier League games when the home team is losing. Instead, the locals rallied behind their team and seemed to genuinely appreciate its efforts. While this may not be reflective of all soccer games in the Second Division -- I've only been to one) -- it was a refreshing change from the win-obsessed, "glory" supporters of the Premiership's top teams who often seem ready to switch allegiances when a defeat is looming.

The palpable community spirit apparent at the game may have more than a little to do with the fact that most of the Bournemouth fans are from Bournemouth. Seemingly, everywhere I looked friends were hailing one another. Everyone knew each other and, most importantly, appeared to like each other. This is in stark contrast to most Premiership games where people from all over the world convene to watch the best players battle it out. It's a well-known fact, for instance, that the vast majority of Manchester United fans live nowhere near Manchester; they might live in east Asia. Not that I have anything against non-local supporters -- I am one -- just that it seems far more difficult for complete strangers to unite in support for their team than it does people with a shared background.

People seemed pleased to be at the game, reveling in the social side to the occasion rather than anxiously obsessing about the end result. In total, 8,901 people attended the Bournemouth game. While this is roughly 60,000 less than the number of people who regularly attend home games at Manchester United, at times the noise far exceeded that which I've heard during matches at Old Trafford when the home team is losing. On such occasions, it's usually deathly silent, apart from the odd idiot hurling abuse at one or more of the underperforming stars.

As I dodged the puddles on my way out of the stadium, I felt pleased I'd came. After being initially aghast at the facilities on offer, I had become a firm convert to the rustic charms of the Second Division. Those looking for great soccer and great stadiums should probably not bother with the Second Division. On the other hand, any visitor to England who is looking for a logistically easy, jovial and heart-warming soccer experience should definitely check it out.

Ed Draper is a young British journalist from Malvern, Worcestershire, who is in the U.S. for two years earning an advanced degree at the E.W. Scripps School of Journalism at Ohio University, Ohio. He returned to England for the holidays. E-mail Ed Draper.