Seems perfectly reasonable that anyone booking a “Superior Room with Pitch View” at the Blackpool Football Club Stadium hotel, located inside the Bloomfield Road Stadium, would expect a hotel room with a view of the pitch. And that is exactly the case – except, bizarrely, when Blackpool are actually playing, with some hotel guests scuppered recently by the smallest of fine print when booking: “Due to the EFL rules and regulations, bedroom curtains have to be kept drawn throughout a match.” Failure to do so could result in a £2,500 fine. Ouch.
Across the 14 years that I have worked for the Guardian, there have been a few occasions when I have been tempted, perhaps after a stressful shift, to go and lie down in a dark room. I just didn’t think that this could be an actual assignment. But off I go to Blackpool to investigate this special type of 3pm blackout, and shortly before kick-off between Blackpool and their League One relegation rivals Northampton, I find myself pulling a very heavy curtain across a panoramic window facing the Bloomfield Road pitch and the Blackpool Tower beyond. That’s my daylight done for the day.
Somewhat cruelly, from beyond the window I can hear the fans coming in to take their seats. An atmosphere builds and I sit on my bed and dream of what it might be like to watch the Blackpool and Northern Ireland goalkeeper Bailey Peacock-Farrell lump a long ball into the winter sky. I hear a whistle for kick-off and, shortly after, the sound of fans celebrating an early goal, almost certainly for the home side.
It’s not all bad: one perk of my hotel room is the free wifi so I am able to check the scorer: Blackpool’s Zac Ashworth. Further updates on the local radio are scarce but, behind the curtain and glass, it is informative listening to a man giving me a subjective synopsis of the referee’s first‑half performance, which apparently could do with some improvement.
The brief sound of Northampton fans taunting home supporters with the chant of “How shit must you be? It’s only 1-0” raises a smile. One thing I do have over the crowd is my own en suite, which also doesn’t have a view of the pitch but does have a selection of complimentary soaps. Hotel guest one, pitch-viewing supporter nil.
The rest of the first half passes serenely, from what I can gather, save for a few roars. Half-time is an audible treat, though, with raffle winners and happy birthday messages for fans announced over the stadium PA system. What a rush.
After a bit of initial excitement in the second half – was that a penalty? It sounded like one! – the novelty of sitting in a windowless room is beginning to wear off. With half an hour to go, I check the corridor, but unfortunately no nearby laundry basket is available for me to smuggle myself into the (actual) hospitality area. Back to the room and I’m beginning to realise this was not the high-octane assignment sold to me by my editors, less sports journalism and more an experiment on the human condition.
Maybe I should just wander downstairs and fork out for a ticket? No, no, stick to the assignment. There are radio updates of the match, a kettle and teabags in the wardrobe. Plus, Escape to the Country has just started on BBC Two, on my generously sized TV. Now I know how the video assistant referees at Stockley Park live.
All bad jokes aside, this does feel avoidable for all concerned. It seems there are two main reasons for this absurd situation. The first, not unreasonably, is that EFL rules state that everyone in view of a pitch must have a ticket. It’s just unfortunate that nobody at Blackpool or at this particular Radisson hotel has had the sense to sell a matchday ticket along with the hotel room. That feels like an easy fix.
Possibly the bigger problem is alcohol. The Sporting Events Act 1985 prevents the consumption of alcohol within view of the pitch in the Premier League, Football League and National League. My minibar has been removed but Blackpool have decided that there is no way of stopping people from circumventing that rule by bringing booze into a hotel room, and have thrown the baby out with the bathwater. There are other Radisson hotels inside football stadiums, at Bolton Wanderers for example, where matchday packages are available (and stewards apparently check hotel guests for booze as they would regular supporters). This, clearly, is not the case in Blackpool.
Recently there have been calls to reform the 40-year-old alcohol legislation around football, which was drawn up in the 1980s when hooliganism was rife in the English game. The Labour MP Luke Charters has called for a trial period, an idea welcomed by the Football Supporters’ Association. Any law change is a decision for the government but the Guardian understands the EFL would be receptive to discussions about permitting alcohol within view of the pitch, and happy to contribute to any pilot scheme that works towards lifting the rules.
Some see the blanket ban on alcohol as disproportionate, especially at matches that are categorised as low risk, where supporters could feel entitled to be treated as they would for any other sports event or leisure activity. But until those rules are changed, or at least until Blackpool’s hotel finds a workaround, the curtains will continue to close.
Ten years ago, David Moyes, then manager at Sunderland, admitted after a defeat that he often liked to spend his Saturday night “in a darkened room”. Despite the 2-0 win for the Tangerines, my trip to Blackpool does feel something like a defeat. Thank goodness, then, I have a nice, dark place to lay my head.
