The Welsh Premier League is not the home of great football. I'm allowed to say that because I'm Welsh, and I've watched from the sidelines at one of its longest-serving (yet totally unsuccessful) clubs with about 50 other fans, many of whom bring their dogs. Quality-wise it's about the same level as England's seventh tier.But if you boil a season of Welsh Premier football down to a few minutes of goals it looks absolutely fucking brilliant: deft lobs, sweetly struck volleys, and foot-like-a-traction-engine piledrivers. Which makes their goal of the season – or Gôl y Tymor – a pretty worthwhile three minutes and 50 seconds of your time.Such sublime strikes are made to look almost bizarre by the sheer lack of people in the stands. If the grounds have stands – some just have wooden fencing behind the goals (which at least provide an ideal pissing spot for the dogs). Perhaps if fans knew they were going to see this sort of football they might show up in bigger numbers. Or perhaps football in Wales is doomed to remain forever overshadowed by the hulking figure of rugby.