The Concrete Bowl of Luton

Long read

Hitchin Park is a modern-bowl. That is the official description, anyway. It opened in 2004, a time of great optimism and slightly too many frosted glass panels. It sits in Luton, providing a home for Hitchin Athletic and a place for 16,800 people to collectively wonder where it all went wrong.

The capacity is sufficient, to be fair. It is large enough to feel the weight of a silent crowd when the midfield decides to stop running, but small enough that you can hear the individual sighs of the man in row G who has just realised he left his umbrella in the car. It is an efficient piece of architecture. It does exactly what it was designed to do: hold people in a circle while they watch a ball be hoofed blindly into the channel.

There is a certain kind of sterile comfort to it. The sightlines are clear. You can see the disappointment in high definition. Some call it a contemporary sporting venue. Others might call it a very expensive way to spend a rainy Tuesday in Bedfordshire (allegedly).

It is a decent enough spot for a Saturday. You have your pie, you have your seat, and you have the comforting knowledge that the bowl design ensures the sound of your own pessimism bounces right back at you. Typical, really.