WHO'D WANT TO BE A KEEPER?

WHEN journalists turned up to Boston United’s new press box in1978, they were surprised to find it located behind a goal.

- Chris DUNLAVY

Don’t worry, they were told. It’s only temporary. Yet for the next 42 years, hacks like me would be forced to duck and dive as wayward shots hammered into the York Street end.

Plenty have bemoaned that precarious perch over the years, largely because it is impossible to gauge shots down the other end. Did he hit it from 18 yards? Thirty-five? Six?

Last Saturday, however, those ancient seats provided the perfect vantage point. For it was right there, half an hour from the end of a dismal play-off final against Altrincham, that Boston keeper Peter Crook made a jaw-dropping howler.

Every amateur keeper has been in Crook’s shoes. A loose ball. A routine smother at the feet of a forward half-heartedly chasing a lost cause. Then, in a flash, you’re grasping fresh air. Maybe the ball was greasy. Maybe it struck a knee or an elbow. Either way, it’s gone. And whilst you flap on the deck like a beached fish, the other fella scores the easiest goal of his life.

For most, that embarrassment plays out in the park or the power league. For Crook, it happened in the biggest game of the season.

Worse, it proved to be the game’s only goal, ensuring eternal infamy as the man who cost the Pilgrims promotion in the last ever game at York Street.