Tales of the Urban Explorer: The Ball Inn

Having driven through a rough council estate we wondered if getting out of the car was such a bright idea.

This was the South Central of Sheffield where you could be mugged, knifed, or beaten for simply glancing at someone for a split second too long. We were not natives and felt vulnerable to such a hostile environment.

Outside “The Ball Inn”, left to rot since 2012 we hesitated to move. The pub has been put on the marketplace for a paltry £450,000 and has had no takers. That valuation would likely buy the whole estate and give the purchaser a decent pocketful of change.

...'The Ball Inn (2008); it looks deceptively safe but from what I read that's just an illusion and created to pull you in where you would be offered drugs and be persuaded to ingest them'... - Source

Thanks to @lpff who always supplies me with a large dose of history, I picked up on this terrifying independent review of “The Ball Inn”.

"It's rather like a Wild West saloon only not as peaceful. The dress code is pretty simple, as long as you have a visible tattoo you can get in (although a broken nose is required for the VIP area). Generally, dogs are welcome as long as they are pit bulls, rotties, or a cross between the two (the 'no muzzle' rule is strictly applied for both dogs and customers).

There are bouncers on the door who will search you for drugs and anyone found not to have any will be supplied them at a reasonable rate".
Source

“Should we have brought baseball bats, and hidden knives”, I mentioned to @anidiotexplores who was reaching for the door. He paused before getting out, applying his hoodie. Damn, why didn’t I wear one, preferably black in colour.

Hoping my car would not be fire-bombed I followed and quickly made for the back as we were otherwise visible to the local Rottweilers; that would not be good.

A possible entrance? Only if you can leap like Superman and have a good aim. It’s still a long drop otherwise.

"The Ball Inn" was not being accommodating, and other than the upper window with a vertical slit you can see (below), it was surprisingly well secure.

Fortunately, there was a semblance of a roof we could climb on and we tentatively made our way across. The entrance through the slit was a little awkward and that roof was not exactly stable.

When you arrive at a room such as this you know it's all been worth it.

Does that mattress mean someone has been sleeping rough in this room?

There are sleeping standards even for the homeless and that doesn't usually mean, broken glass all over you as well as a howling wind coming through a huge gap where the window once was.

Those are sizable holes in the floor, the type I generally distance myself from. It was evident there had been some arson antics up on the top floor.

For Sheffield, that’s terrible quality graffiti.

The stairs were surprisingly intact and we had little problems descending into the pub proper.

It is…, was a pub, what would you expect to see?

Steve Black attempting to welcome people into “The Ball Inn”. The tin stack of 'Strongbow Dark Fruit' was unsurprisingly lacking content.

Carling Black Label; it always sounded good to me as a youth but tasted like swill, as well as most of those other crappy lagers from the past.

Inside was slightly better than expected considering the eleven years of rot this pub has had to persevere. Not everyone is willing to climb on the roof to get in such a shithole, and though trashed I have seen worse.

Not a fantastic line-up, I would probably go for the bottle of Coke above the rest of those.

Working out in “The Ball Inn” likely consisted of you getting chinned and falling to the floor, that’s decent exercise I would say.

The pump wires are still there, I thought they might have been nicked. The barrels could still hold some feisty old frothy beer, complete with a nice topping of stale mould.

Beer mats, I used to collect them as a ten-year-old and had a sizeable collection of this useless cardboard.

The cellar area was pretty grotty and we decided to head back up to the bar.

Leather recliners look a little out of place in the middle of the main bar area. They could have been for the locals after taking a needle full of hard drugs, after the optional starter of garlic bread.

I stared at the bar and played back that review again - "It's rather like a Wild West saloon only not as peaceful".

As the Wild West was far from peaceful, just how many makeovers had this place been through during its working years?

Handy empty bottles just waiting for you to pick and glass someone. Ambulances must have been a regular here.

We exited via that dodgy roof access point and made our way down. A short jump was necessary, and I remember @anidiotexplores landing on some dog-shit or something equally slippery, which resulted in him falling on his arse.

I tried to stifle a laugh, and then thought about my car and what was about to become of the matted flooring. Ah..., Erm....

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