Heading for the Premier.......

On such a cold and damp September morning it’s hard to believe that Prestatyn was for more than a century the favourite destination for thousands of holiday makers.

The popularity, prosperity and growth of the resort started with the opening of the town’s railway station in 1848. Vast numbers of holiday makers and day trippers descended on the area in those early years – escaping the smoke and misery of Manchester and Liverpool in favour of the sun, sea and fresh air of the north Wales coast.

In 1923 Prestatyn Estates opened a ballroom and outdoor pool on the seafront. Then just as the ‘Great British Holiday’ reached its height of popularity, the Urban District Council modernised the facility in 1960, to create the Royal Lido and Ballroom.

Later to be renamed the Nova Centre, the Ballroom was for many years the ‘jewel in the entertainment crown’, giving opportunity to hundreds of rising stars in the 50s and 60s. And its zenith…..?

Without doubt, Friday 24th November 1962, just two days before they recorded Please Please Me, The Beatles played in front of a packed and screaming crowd at the ‘Nova’.

But today the call of an agent bringing news of a booking, on a Saturday night….in Prestatyn…at the Nova….no more than the affirmation that a bright career was coming to a close.

Yes, on such a cold and damp September morning the Nova sits just above the high tide mark, a forlorn reminder of the blazing summers of long ago….waiting for the inevitable. The next big tidal surge of value for money reviews, and it will be gone…...

‘Phil it’s the League on the phone.’ ‘The Premier?’ Philip Dowd replied with just a hint of uncertainty. ‘No, the Football League’, and Phil’s thoughts immediately migrated from Anfield to St Andrew’s.

If it had been a call to say that he had got ‘the’ job at Lehman Brothers the reaction would have been the same. Phil was stunned, and he wrestled with his tongue to deliver a response. ‘So you want me to do Luton against Aldershot’, his mind was now on fire with images of non-League football. The long forgotten ‘sticker’ book, with pictures of Jimmy Melia and Jack Howarth. Kenilworth Road, and where to park. And hadn’t Aldershot gone bust.

‘Who have you got then Phil?’….

’Don’t ask. Don’t ask.’

Luton Town have experienced good times…..an FA Cup Final defeat in 1959, winners of the Littlewoods Cup in 1988 and two periods in the top flight of English football…..but with the Club renamed ‘Luton Administration FC’ the future is now uncertain.

The Club moved to Kenilworth Road in 1905, playing their first match against Plymouth Argyle, and despite the current capacity set at 10,200, just over 30,000 crammed in for an FA Cup game against Blackpool in 1959. But now the sad old ground is incarcerated by concrete and urban sprawl, a forlorn reminder of the heady days and the walk up Wembley Way….waiting for the inevitable. The trap door to non-League football is poised to spring open……….


Luton Town played the first half on Saturday as if their lives depended on it……and when the season starts at -30 points I guess they can’t hang about for the Consultants’ diagnosis.

And Aldershot, who were ponderously slow to get going, very lucky to go in at half time only 1v0 down.

But the second half was to be different. Aldershot finding vigour and confidence to replace frailty and timidity. The pace throughout the team challenging the authority of Luton – 1v1 with just minutes to go. And then two late goals giving Luton a 3v1 home win.

Oh yes, and in the middle Philip Dowd, Premier League referee..

Opinion will always be divided on every ‘big’ decision. And of course incidents inevitably occur at the other end of the field; the distance from the action limiting objectivity, with prejudice compounded by an in-built myopic view.

I have no doubt that Dowd got some decisions right…perhaps even some of the important ones. But for all of Sunday and for much of this week it wasn’t the unacceptable quality of his decision making that I found hard to forget. No, it was the posturing arrogance of the man.

For every decision his chest was pumped up and inflated, his arm extended in a manner demanding respect. His eyes searching for anyone to fix onto….. players, spectators, managers…no one was safe.

’Yes, I’m right. I’m Philip Dowd. And if you stand still I will extend to you the opportunity to listen to my wisdom as well’.


Instant judgement and emotional writing was never going to produce a satisfactory reflection on Philip Dowd’s performance.

On Saturday I felt cheated; I had spent 90 mins distracted by the ‘man in black’. The splendour of John Grant’s first goal of the season and the electric pace of Hudson pushed to the back of my consciousness by such a gauche refereeing display.

Six days on, and the suffocating blanket of irrational thought has lifted and I can once again see clearly. Dowd is simply a victim of the avarice that pervades the Premier League. Of course the love of status is easy to see in the flashing eyes of Ronaldo and the post-affray demeanour of Joey Barton. But the contamination has spread unchecked, like the Black Death, from boardroom to stand….Toon Army to the Stretford Enders…..and with the art of Well Dressing confined to just a few areas of England, it was simply a matter of time before ‘the men in black’ joined the club.

But time heals, and with Aldershot Town in the ascendancy, last Saturday was no more than another game… three points to Luton, in support of their attempt to retain League status.

As for Philip Dowd I have a feeling his wish for Premier league football will be granted………

Histon is really easy to find. It’s just off the A14….head for the village, Phil, and you will find the ground on your right….loads of parking too. I’m sure you will receive a warm welcome in the Blue Square Premier………no more than the affirmation that a bright career was coming to a close.