Livingston 1 Queen’s Park 1
Let’s start at the end. In the shade of the brightness thrown by floodlights, in the wake of disappointment, David Martindale stands at the foot of the main stand. The Livingston manager is addressing a malcontent.
The scene is loud, unsettling, and carries the faintest whiff of the threat of escalation. It is quickly defused by officials who lead Martindale away as other fans come to his support.
It is a further, unneeded reminder that football simmers and survives in passion, though some of it is unedifying. As Martindale points out later: ‘I think something has to change within football. I don’t buy into this narrative that: “I pay my money so I can shout abuse at you”. I think lines are getting crossed on a weekly basis on social media and in stands.’
This confrontation does not tell the story of Livi. Indeed, it does not reflect the mass of conversations with fans on a Championship Saturday. But it is indicative of the truth that there are tensions and strains within all clubs.
Formed in 1995 from the wreckage of Ferranti Thistle and Meadowbank Thistle, Livi have survived two administrations, are embroiled in a league dispute over ownership that may go to the courts soon, and face the prospect of their plastic pitch being torn up if the club are successful in their tilt for the Premiership.
Livingston boss Martindale makes his feelings known from the sidelines
Livi lost ground on Falkirk in title race after home draw with Queen’s Park
Martindale would later have words with fans he claimed were giving team ‘dog’s abuse’
This would be enough to concern any fan, but the feeling around the ground on a damp, chill matchday was largely one of warm affection.
There was that patch of dissidents in the stand but the vast majority seem content to count their blessings — albeit in that rueful fashion of the Scottish fan — rather than enumerate their grievances.
The bar just beyond the reception was packed with those who were eager to share their fascination for a club who have, of course, the League Cup triumph of 2004 on their honours list but regularly seem to deal in survival amid the disdain of those who feel plastic is beneath them, both figuratively and metaphorically.
Owen Jarvie pauses while sipping his pint to address his history with the club. ‘I am 30 years old so you could say I have been supporting the club for 30 years, basically since it started. My old man brought me and my brother along here from the start,’ he says. ‘I was definitely here in 1996-97. I have never known anything since.’
The Jarvie family are from Balerno, near Edinburgh, and the decision to come to Livingston was made because of the proximity to home. Jarvie works in financial services and has an appreciation of the issues facing the club.
Stevie May, second from right, celebrates putting Livingston in front
Queen’s Park players are upset after they had a goal disallowed
The home crowd were ultimately to be disappointed when the Spiders equalised
‘We have a small fan base,’ he says. ‘We have over-performed, but we are probably where we should be. Indeed, I would say we are, in budget terms. a lower-end team in this division. So, it is good and a wee bit surprising to be sitting second.’
He adds: ‘I have had my highlights. We have played in Europe and won the league, and I was at both occasions. But the most memorable occasion was beating Partick Thistle in the play-offs in 2018.’
That match is recalled, too, by Stuart Barrie. ‘I had one of those watches that records your heartbeat,’ he says. ‘Mine was 158.’
Barrie, 53 has been a season-ticket holder for 15 years. ‘I have always sat in the same seat,’ he says. ‘I once was a Rangers supporter but became disillusioned with a few issues and now I am content here. I feel this is my town, this is my team. This feels like real football. And you learn to enjoy the moments as the good times can be fleeting.’
Queen’s Park player Roddy MacGregor is sent off during the 1-1 draw
A supporter stands up to have his say during the Championship clash on Saturday
David Martindale tries to get his message across to his players
A couple of hours before kick-off, all is quiet below the main stand. In a cubby hole in the corner of the stadium stands Jane Paul. She says: ‘I am volunteer manager at the club and I’ve been doing it since 2009. I am in charge of the turnstiles.
She busies herself with communications, keys and a checklist. All the workers at the turnstiles are volunteers.
Alongside Jane sits her husband, Donald. When asked how she became involved in the club, she points and says: ‘Him.’ Donald has a history with the club that stretches back to Meadowbank in 1974 when, at 13, he was a ball boy.
He moved on to become a steward and is on the board of Livi for Life, the supporters’ trust that holds a stake of just more than six per cent in the club.
Jane came along in 2004 in the wake of administration. ‘Donald had been coming for years but the club was desperate for fans so I attended one match — against Aberdeen — and I was hooked. I have been coming ever since.’
Donald, who is disabled, works on the accessible gate at the ground. ‘I suppose I am useful there because I have an understanding of the issues,’ he says.
He also appreciates the intricacies of the governance of the club. ‘We know there is a dispute and that it may go to court,’ he says. ‘We have been assured we will know more next month.’
He stepped down as chair of the trust at the beginning of the year and his successor, Martin Birch, owes his affiliation to the club to his kids who came back from school in 2000 with free tickets.
‘They were hooked immediately and so was I,’ he says. ‘My older son is on the roof at the moment as he films the games.
The other son now sponsors some of the players.
‘This is a community club. We are working hard to build on that. Our primary aim is to ensure that we have a club that is run in the proper way and is there for our children and our children’s children.’
On the ownership wrangle, he adds: ‘We have met with all parties so there is stuff I can’t discuss quite yet.’
He says another issue is the synthetic pitch. ‘It needs to be replaced anyway and that will cost £400,000. But if we go into the Premiership then we will need a grass pitch — with the cost that will bring — and then we will have to fund a training facility. There are so many unknowns.’
IT takes Martindale almost an hour to enter the media room following a tempestuous match and that turbulent encounter with vocal critics. He is calm, measured and addresses that flashpoint.
‘You can only take so much,’ he says. ‘There is a group of fans who are waiting for a negative to jump on. I genuinely wanted to speak to them to ask them what it is we should be doing. We have lost one game in the Championship. Yet we are getting dog’s abuse as soon as there is a bit of adversity in the game.’
He also talks about the comments on social media where players are called ‘wage thieves’ or more crude names. ‘Do you think that helps players when they are coming into their work on a Monday morning?’ asks Martindale.
‘Why do we allow people to come into a place of work and simply abuse players and staff. I don’t understand it.’
Fans filing into Livingston’s ground ahead of the game with Queen’s Park
Livingston have had their problems but are still going well in the Championship
The fans get caught up in the moment as Livi and Spiders fight out a 1-1 draw
Martindale is keen to emphasise that it was ‘a very small minority’ who caused Saturday’s scene.
He adds: ‘We are a community club and we should be able to bring our kids to a game of football, but why bring them to listen to some fans give your players and manager dog’s abuse?’
The entering of the stand at the end of the game was to hear precisely what his detractors wanted to say. ‘Come and get your frustration out now, that was my message.
We are a small club and we need everyone pushing in the same direction. But it’s not just Livingston. This is a problem within football that has grown arms and legs through social media.’
There are other problems for Livingston, including the ownership debate. But there are glimmers of hope in a dank November.
Livi sit second, the volunteers scramble to finish their duties and the trust looks to organise a Christmas dinner for the needy. There are discreet murmurs of good work beneath the shrieks of the rammies.
