The Slow Match Report: Livingston 1 Ross County 1
🗡️ Late Staggies dagger could stall the inexorable rise of the concrete-and-roundabout clubs
A solitary Livingston fan stared intently at the Scotrail moquette on the seat opposite him. He was perhaps contemplating the protracted slog of the season now nearly expired and the fickle tombola that is the play-off system. As the train sighed its way into Uphall — one stop short of Livingston North — the supporter gathered his scarf and alighted.
It is possible that he left the train early because he had a lift waiting there in the car park. It is also possible that the play-offs seemed all of a sudden unpalatable, a sour and perished foodstuff rife with intestinal peril. So easily, they can feel like a dishevelled tournament tacked on to the end of the season, a detour when everyone just wants to go home. The play-offs are seldom as promised in the marketing brochure.
From underpasses fans in black and amber emerged, bees crawling from the hive. This architecture of hidden pathways and satellite villages summoned to mind the difficulties of building a football club in a New Town — of having no vintage where a grandfather passes his team to his son, and that dad to his daughter, and of having no black and white photos or yesteryear heroes on plinths. Yet with East Kilbride’s arrival in the league and Livi now hinting at a return to the top flight, maybe the age of the concrete and roundabout clubs has arrived.
No matter whether a town is a thousand years old or 50, the rampant noise of an expectant crowd gathered early in a ground is the same. There was, tonight, very little scampering through the turnstiles two minutes before kick-off. From 20 minutes before, choruses of “We’re on our way” flew up from the north end of the main stand. On the modest hill behind the stadium which allows a view of much of the pitch, two teenage girls plonked down their bikes to watch for a while, and a family unfurled their picnic, crockery and all. The sun drooped low, casting delicious light over the scene. It was unlikely, but for a few minutes football in Livingston looked like a painting of somewhere else.
“Together we can make it, come on Livingstonnnnnn!” cried the Tannoy announcer as the game began. His team listened — or were at least deafened into delirious action — swarming forward against a Staggies defence who looked like they had made other plans. Finally and groggily, their attacking teammates awoke and happened upon a corner kick. From the cross Will Nightingale, whose name suited this gentle late spring evening, plinked a header towards goal. Livi goalkeeper Jérôme Prior saved impressively, clawing the ball with the urgency of a father trying to prevent a vase falling on his child’s head. There followed more fruitless County corners and a clearance which almost decapitated a seagull, foolishly speculating for food above a plastic surface.
For a while the game lapsed into a pensive lull. Entertainment could be found instead in counting the aeroplanes passing over the stadium — eight before half-time, and even from up there they could probably detect that this match was no classic. Then followed two pleasing moments of amusement: firstly, a man carrying a pie in each hand fell forwards as he attempted a slow motion hurdle over a seat, saving the pies with the kind of determination that made this nation fleetingly great; secondly, a classy pirouette turn by Ross’s Nohan Kenneh, a manoeuvre of incongruous energy in the manner of a vicar suddenly breakdancing during a sermon. Soon afterwards, Livi’s Robbie Muirhead found himself alone with the ball on the edge of the six-yard box. Instead of asking it to dance, he spanked it high into the air, possibly trying to wake someone on Aer Lingus flight 3556.
Just as two minutes of injury time were declared, winger Stephen Kelly cuffed a corner deep into the Ross County area. Ryan McGowan headed the ball downwards so that it bounced like a joke shop rubber egg, deceiving all who watched. Tip followed tap until Livi’s Danny Wilson clouted the ball home. There may not have been many more than 2,000 home supporters present, but they roared with the glee of a far larger crowd. Half-time was theirs for dreaming. It was also the groundsman’s for watering, as sprinklers deluged the goalmouth Livi would be attacking in the second half, making a temporary lagoon of the plastic yarn.
When the game recommenced the home side were sprightly, whizzing the ball around. It appeared as though they were trying to prove that this maligned surface did not deserve the disdain it attracts. One fine move resulted in the lively Muirhead once more punting over. Then County’s Ronan Hale appeared to pass to an invisible man and defender Elijah Campbell bayonetted a clearance aimlessly as if trying to land it in the St John’s Hospital chimney beyond the North Stand. Livi continued to prosper, driven largely by the excellent Lewis Smith. Smith glides on the ball, a charismatic footballer always seeking to sculpt chances and write stories with his left foot. He deserved more than a fussy booking for an alleged dive.
With half an hour remaining, the Staggies were at last provoked into action. On came the soaring Jordan White to ruffle and perturb where before County’s front line had done nothing more than pat heads. It energised his team, yet Livi closed everything down, scurrying like woodlice from a lifted brick. They turned to a substitute of their own, Stevie May, who to the delight of fans charged around in the pulsating fashion of a Not In Service bus on its way back to the depot at midnight.
Then, with coach engines firing up for the slog back to Dingwall, County’s George Harmon sailed a cross into the box. Play momentarily rumbled on but someone had a word in referee John Beaton’s ear. The VAR screen told him that White’s shirt had been tugged by Wilson, inducing the forward to collapse like a felled larch. With the outside of his boot, Hale hovered home the penalty for 1-1. I thought of the man who stares at seats.
