Just mention Sheddocksley to a Grades cricketer and watch him sh-sh-sh-shiver. Not with the remembrance of freezing cold afternoons gone by (although Lord knows the two go hand in hand) but, rather, with the instinctive "dread" the place instills. To play cricket at Sheddocksley is to risk all in the name of your sport. Your car is at risk, from vandals or simply petty theft. The dressing rooms are mere Malls for the local indigenous Hillbilly folk. Your very life is at risk from a minefield of discarded syringes & condoms .

Just as it was said that the house, portrayed in the "Amityville Horror" movies & book, was itself evil, infecting all who lived within its' walls, so it is believed of Sheddocksley. Curiously, this feeling of dread is only felt by cricketers, the local footballers who play there seem unaffected by, even immune to, the sudden outbursts of violence, petty squabbling, car break ins, vandalism and theft that are so prevalent there.

A deeper look into the history books reveals a very different portrait of Sheddocksley. Once, the area immediately surrounding the ground, was all rich, fertile arable land and Sheddocksley itself was a garden paradise, lined with orchids and rows of vines. The place was a suntrap, often unseasonally warm and never the cold barren tundra it is today. For the good of it's citizens, it was purchased by the Council and turned into 112 football pitches, plus one each for hockey & cricket. 

Some historians say that this was the beginning of the end. Council estates sprung up nearby and, inevitably, the vines were picked clean for the production of cheap vino. Increased levels of alcoholism led to a general breakdown of society. Inbreeding led to more incidents of mutancy and the generations of "neds" to follow. However, Sheddocksley's downfall was no different from many other areas of Aberdeen, once the Council had gotten involved. No, its dark descent was to become something far more sinister.

It all appears to have coincided with the overlapping of the football and cricket seasons. Football had always been the winter game, cricket the summer, but, as football became more and more popular, the fixture list expanded out of control. Seasons spilled over into spring and early summer. Local cricketers were, for the first time, exposed to torrents of verbal abuse from their fitba counterparts. Being what they are, the cricket fraternity let it all run off like so much water off a ducks back. However, every sport has it's "Bete Noir" and cricket is no exception.

Bert Stott was a Grades cricketer with a very short fuse. Generally, he was known to confine himself to verbal violence against the opposition and even his own team mates. A fine opening bat in his prime, Bert, or "Stottie" as he was known (never affectionately), like all of us, fell foul of the passage of time. As he aged, his form dropped and he grew increasingly sociopathic and was kicked out of club after club. The final straw came at Sheddocksley, June 16th 1959, during a game between Bon Accord (his club at the time) and Old School Boys (now defunct). A group of footballers from Hall Russells FC and Aberdeen Comb Works FC were walking past the game, with the Bon Accord innings in progress, Stottie at one end. One cry too many of "Cricket's a Poofs game" proved too much for Stottie and, enraged, he ran off after them, clubbed the Hall Russells goalie to death and would have inflicted a bloody massacre apon the remaining Hall Russells FC players had his heart not decided to up stumps and pack in. Stottie died instantly.

You've never heard of this incident? Well, that's not surprising. First of all, no complaint was made by any of the football contingent for fear of ridicule. No footballer would admit being attacked (and beaten) by a cricketer. Secondly, The Grades were unaware that such an incident EVER took place, as it had been reported to them too late to make Mondays P&J. Finally, the matter was reported to Grampian Police who were told that the victims injuries were the result of a high tackle. Although homicide must've seemed a more plausible cause, the Police were keen to maintain their unblemished record of never having investigated and solved a murder case.

Mr Stotts body simply "disappeared". The urban myth supposes that he was buried, there and then, on the boundary, beneath what was Pitch 1, although the truth may never be known. Whatever the facts, from that day on, the winds changed and indeed increased to near hurricane strengths, constantly, all year long. The mean temperature, as a result, dipped and the wickets themselves became erratic and dangerous. Newspapers carried stories of "pools of blood that didst spring from the crease". The changing rooms, it was observed, often stank (especially when Bon Accord were playing) and there were repeated claims of a hidden presence "touching" players in the showers.

Sheddocksley, as many of you will know, is still haunted by something wicked. Who can say they've played there and not heard a voice in the wind howl "F**K YOU ALL!!".