The Maryhill Chain

I suppose it is beholden of me to comment on the latest managerial farce at Newcastle United and, to explore a Gallic metaphor, to see which fans are part of La Resistance and who are the reincarnation of the Petain administration. However, taking my lead from Zhou Enlai who apocryphally commented when asked to assess the importance of the French Revolution that “it’s too early to say,” I’ll express my thoughts on those who are now walking in a Pardew Wonderland at a later date.

Despite a marginal cessation of the climactic horror show on Tyneside in the week previous, it was clear that there would only be one game played on Tyneside on Saturday 11^th December. In contrast, despite much of the Central Belt taking on the impression of the set of The Day After Tomorrow early in the week, a somewhat mind boggling 22 degree turnaround in temperatures from –14 to +8 in the space of a day on Tuesday to Wednesday, Scotland looked like a country with footballing prospects. In addition, there was the promise of Teenage Fanclub ending their tour with a Glasgow gig at the ABC on Sunday night, with a definite lift home on offer afterwards. Having seen The Wedding Present the previous Saturday and Belle & Sebastian the night after at a sold out Sage, I was on a musical roll.

I’m not as well travelled in terms of Scottish football as I should be, with only 10 ticks across the Scottish leagues and a smattering of Junior clubs, so I was theoretically spoiled for choice. My number one target was the SPL game between Hamilton and my Scottish club Hibs at New Douglas Park, but despite an army of volunteers shifting tons of snow off the pitch, the referee deemed the surface unplayable early on the Friday morning and so the game got the hook. This left me with two choices: St Mirren v St Johnstone, also in the SPL, or Partick Thistle v Ross County in Division 1. The latter clash between The Jags and The Stags was my preference as my hotel for the Saturday night was within a mile walk of Maryhill, whereas I’d have to get from Glasgow out to Paisley for the former and wouldn’t even have the company of Pasiley resident Ashington Mick, who was doing the journalism bit at Morton v Dundee, which was totally off my geographical agenda.

Thankfully, despite the pitch taking a pounding when tenants Glasgow Rugby took on Toulouse in a Heineken Cup match on the Friday, Saturday morning saw the Thistle game given the thumbs up. Of course, to be on the safe side, I had The Jags number written on the back of my hand, just in case I needed to call.

The journey up was smooth and swift; a £20 late seat in First Class saw me pile in to free coffee and orange juice, arriving at Queen Street with my ticket not having been checked, irritatingly enough. Four stops on the clockwork orange Subway to me to Kelvinbridge, a quick bag drop later and I was buying my ticket from the kiosk outside the Jackie Husband Stand for the afternoon’s entertainment.

Perhaps I’m naïve, but with only 1 game taking place in Glasgow, I’d naively thought there would be something of a walk-up crowd for this fixture, but the staggering £17 entry cost probably put more off than the weather did, with a final attendance of 1,504 being announced. Firhill itself is a good ground. Having benefited from Partick’s time in the previous incarnation of the SPL, the club sought to develop the ground with 3 all seated stands and a grass bank for advertising. Tragically, the current economic climate, which resulted in dozens of references in the programme to sponsorship opportunities and corporate packages that would help the club raise the £300,000 they need to make it through the season, allied to an unimpressive campaign that meant they could theoretically go bottom if they lost this one, meant that everyone was sat in the third full Jackie Husband Stand for this game. It is a lovely stand though it has to be said.

The home team made their entry to 1973 Dutch prog rock classic "Hocus Pocus" by Focus, which was quite an enjoyable blast from the past (Did you know “Live At The Rainbow” by Focus was recorded on 5^th May 1973? The same day as the mackems beat Dirty Leeds in the FA Cup Final). However, surveying the crowd, I thought that Thijs van Leer’s other hit single "Sylvia" may have been more appropriate as I’ve honestly never seen such a high percentage of women fans before. Fit ones as well, in an earnest semi-left wing Glasgow Herald reading sort of way.

Frankly, despite the fact that Maryhill itself does not seem an aspirational, up and coming suburb, this was a very well heeled crowd. In fact a lot of them looked liked they would be Teenage Fanclub Fans. I suppose such a supporter demographic was inevitable as Partick is handy for the chic West End of Glasgow boho alt quarter. Passing two cheese merchants on Great Western Road, I was forced to conclude this area was more Glasgow Quiche than Glasgow Kiss. To paraphrase Fletch in Porridge “I used to think I was middle class until I went to Glasgow and I realised I was working class.”

5 seconds in to the game I’d come to see, Thistle’s Simon Donnelly, the former Celtic and Sheffield Wednesday treatment room habitué, shanked the 20 yards ball out of play when attempting to play it out wide. He was the only player I’d heard of from either squad. On a positive note, the pitch looked to be in amazing nick, considering it had been under 18 inches of snow on Wednesday and had had 30 hairy arsed rugger buggers pounding it the night before. Obviously the under soil heating, a luxurious remnant of The Jags’ SPL good days a decade and a half ago, had done an admirable job. Ross County, having travelled 6 hours from distant Dingwall to get there, looked the better side in the early parts, but it was sobering to remember that they’d reached the Scottish Cup final in May and were kicking off only a place above Thistle.

It started to look bleak for the home side, when it became 0-1 and Jags went down to 10 after 19 minutes. The referee gave a penalty for trip by Alan Archibald on Richard Brittain, who got up and slammed home the spot kick himself. While it seemed a mite harsh to issue the red card, Archibald was the last defender and it had been quite a blatant trip. The home support, previously so urbane and witty, didn’t see it that way.

On the way up, I’d read an article in WSC about the Scottish referee’s strike. Frankly so labyrinthine and recondite were the details of both this strike and the content of the article, that I found it akin to wading through a proposition from Wittgenstein, being neither enlightening nor comprehensible, though it was nice to see WSC taking time to focus on something other than their monotonous abuse of Milton Keynes Dons. Suffice to say, Scottish refs are getting a bit sick of the criticism levelled at them. They should have heard the 60-odd year old bloke 10 rows in front of me at this one.

Springing to his feet and gesticulating in the direction of the official, with an index finger trembling with anger, he launched in to a tirade along the lines of “nae wonder youse bastards get your windaes put in; nae fuckin wonder youse get razor blades through the post,” with several variations on this theme over the next few minutes. When entreated to resume his seat by those behind him, he graciously rejected this suggestion; “I will not sit down; I will have my fucking say!” For the rest of the game, every free kick to Ross County was greeted with the question “Is that no’ a penalty ya bastard?”

He did cheer up after 40 minutes when Thistle’s gangling front man Chris Erskine ran smartly on to a quick free kick from Donnelly and slammed in an equaliser from 18 yards past a sprawling Stags keeper. It considerably lightened the mood and provoked ironic chants of "Erskine for Scotland." At least I hope they were ironic. They were also the only chants of the half.

The second period saw no more goals scored, but some good pressure by The Jags, without looking likely to score. County spurned a late golden chance when Craig volleyed over with just the keeper to beat, but honours even it was.

I wended my icy way back to my hotel and proceeded to fall asleep on the bed, waking to find Newcastle drawing 1-1 with Liverpool. Showered and changed, I headed out to the Wise Monkey pub, where I was attending a charity fundraiser for Cancer Research, in memory of Tom O’Grady, a wonderful bloke and massive Teenage Fanclub fan who’d passed on in May this year, that involved a load of middle aged blokes playing TFC covers. I arrived seconds after Barton had scored the winner and, saying hello to everyone, I looked away as Carroll powered home the third. Never mind; I’d had a great football day and was about to have a great couple of musical experiences, especially TFC’s Orange Juice inspired encore of “Dying Day,” “Falling & Laughing” and “Rip It Up.” It was worth arriving home at 1.30 on Sunday morning for.

Music never lets you down, but football sometimes does, though not this weekend! Thanks to Barry for organising the night, Jim for the TFC ticket, Steve for the lift home and Teenage Fanclub for providing 20 years of musical perfection. The best fucking band in the world.