The Vanarama National League. Blessed relief.

When Sam Purkiss, a distinctly dodgy referee, blew the final whistle at 5.54pm yesterday, Sutton United had edged a gritty Vanarama encounter with Harrogate, 2-1. There was the gruff, happy sarcasm of celebration on the terraces at Gander Green Lane – born of many years of ups and downs. Triumph and disaster are put in their place in lower league soccer. Tomorrow is another day. And so the gritty band of Yorkshire supporters cheered their vanquished team before the long journey back up the A1.

Manchester United’s superstars, Pogba and Sanchez, who have, until recently been warming the team bench at a cost of £650,000 per week, could not have constructed or executed better goals than the three which punctuated the Sutton/Harrogate match. Mind you, punctuation apart, there was very little to raise the pulse during a delightfully dour and rather tetchy encounter. But this is the National league, several flights of fancy below Old Trafford – and so much easier to enjoy.

For a start, admission is £8 to the likes of me – over 60. Secondly, parking is unrestricted along the suburban roads that ribbon out from the ground. West Sutton Station is next door. A supporters dream. If you add the Gander pub at the end of the road and the burgers, hot dogs, chips and coffees on sale at the gate, you have a recipe for simple ecstasy. The sights and sounds and smells of the lower leagues have an authenticity – and a budget price – to trump anything that the big boys can muster in their corporate entertainment world.

The quality of the soccer varies. Conversation on the terraces – yes standing for a game is another retro-joy – is hardly interrupted by stimulating action on the pitch although there are sublime moments which delight all the more as they come as surprises. One such was Jonah Ayunga’s brilliant header in the 19th minute to put the hosts 1-up. Another George Thompson’s stunning left footed equalizer after 60 minutes – a rifled shot from 25yards. Apart from the skill, I enjoyed the normality of a name that I could pronounce.

The game was a niggly affair with a chap called Falkingham from Harrogate being the chippy little sod who seemed keen to be at the centre of most arguments. He was a talented little midget with a number 4 on his back. His number could be seen racing to complain to the rather wet Mr Purkiss at each decision, or as in this ref’s case, non-decision, that occurred. The little runt should have seen yellow early on. Instead, as he had a modicum of talent, he led the Harrogate revival and would have turned the game had Sutton not woken from their lethargy and sent on three smaller, quicker, raiding players to seal the game 8 minutes from time. Harry Beautyman finished a sweeping move to complete his own fine display and send the chocolate and gold fans home with a spring in their steps.

Total expenditure with beers and burger came in at under £20. At the top table of soccer we would be over the ton. More to the point, there were many boys and girls (£3 entry) gambolling about in their scarves and bobble hats. The club is a community facility with a 3G pitch. Finances are in the black and both the manager and chairman has ben in place for years. Sutton have had a number of famous FA Cup excursions but their bread and butter is local fun and support. Thy are threatening the promotion places. Elevation to the Football League would change things, perhaps not for the better. The expenditure on ground and facilities could be crippling. What’s wrong with staying in the Vanarama and keeping the burgers affordable?

Over Christmas and New Year I have enjoyed the blessed relief of politicians on holiday, being with those whom I like and love and only watching TV when lethargy overwhelmed me or when Love Actually was on. I have yet to make any New Year resolutions but that is normal for me; I don’t make promises I can’t keep. And so we’re back to bloody politics.

Then comes my fit again…