The Pilot Field: Life led elegance at Hastings United

Words: Charlie Wright

Images: Charlie Wright

The Pilot Field lies nestled in the hills above Hastings and if you approach from the top of Elphinstone Road, as I often do, you’ll glimpse snatches of the English Channel through the trees.

My dad usually drives us to the ground this way and this view, with the whole town laid out below, is a pivotal component of our pre-match ritual.

We started coming together three years ago, searching for a football fix as the Premier League became more unattainable.

I’ve since fallen head over heels for the town, the club, and the ground.

Whilst it’s not quite as old as the ancient battle the area is famous for, the Pilot Field does feel historic; football has been played here for over 100 years.

The impressive old grandstand, constructed in 1926, runs the length of the ground’s South side.

It’s seen a lot of life, yet has an elegance, much like the seaside town itself.

©Charlie Wright/ Terrace Edition. Hastings United.

Opposite is a towering grass bank which formed part of the old speedway circuit and above that is the remains of the smaller Firs playing field which once played host to now-defunct St Leonards Stamcroft FC and Hastings Town FC.

Hastings Town would later supplant the original, bankrupt Hastings United at the Pilot Field in 1985 before eventually adopting the defunct club’s name and colours in the early 00s.

To the West sits the clubhouse and the Steve Smith stand, the larger of the two stands behind each goal.

The home fans congregate here in the first half, the thump of the big bass drum keeping them in time as they work through an expansive repertoire full of terrace classics as well as some humorous, rousing originals.

This stand is set back from the pitch and spacious, the drum imparted with a formidable reverberation from the concrete and metal around us.

As the second-half approaches, soundtracked by the twangy guitar and tinny electric organ from the theme song of 60s puppet show Joe 90 booming through the PA, the hardcore faithful swap ends from the frying pan of the Steve Smith to the fire of the Cole Warren.

The DJ loves a rogue music choice; I’ve heard everything from traditional marches to rave classics in my time coming here.

A common prematch topic with my dad is musing on what we might hear on the PA at half time - the Joe 90 theme is a real favourite right now.

The Cole Warren couldn’t be more different than its opposite number. With a low corrugated metal roof it has the perfect acoustics for making a hundred fans not just sound like a thousand but feel like a thousand too.

It’s cramped, crowded, intimate, and loud; I’m shoulder to shoulder with my dad, my brother, and my fellow fans.

I love it.

The support from the fans feel exacting and pinpoint here; the scalpel to the Steve Smith’s sledgehammer.

Players are called out, encouraged, chastened, cheered, and adored by a spion kop in miniature with no less passion than the full size thing.

Every word in here can be heard on the pitch, and vice versa. As a corner comes I’m almost inclined to try and head it in myself.

It’s when I’m in the Cole Warren belting out ‘Good old Sussex-by-the-sea’ that I’m in my element; the aches, pains, stresses and anxieties of the week forgotten, if only for 90 minutes, overtaken by a fervour and a passion that I still find difficult to explain to my friends that aren’t into non-League football.

You can find Charlie on X: @chaz_cfc and Instagram: @octachaz

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