Eight Levels High

One of the nicknames I had at work a few years back was Marmite, not on account of the fact I was a gloopy, yeasty, paste that needed spooning out of a jar, but because I provoked a dichotomous response; people either loved me or hated me. I used to comment that most people took an instant dislike to me as it saved time. It is true though that I’ve been a bad person for so much of my life that  literally dozens of friends, family members and acquaintances who had all stuck by me through thick and thin have eventually thrown up their hands in disgust at my conduct and not simply walked away, but set themselves up in implacable opposition to me, often with the stated aim of doing me down in as many ways as possible, to the greatest possible audience, with the intent of causing me the maximum possible harm. Frankly, I’ve no option but to take this opprobrium on the chin, because so much of it is deserved. I don’t worry about my reputation because it’s almost irretrievable; almost no-one has a good word to say about me.

I am a bad person; I can be cruel, vindictive, manipulative, aggressive, vain, arrogant and deceitful, but I can be engaging, personable, supportive, perceptive, caring and helpful, but just not often enough and not to the right people. I am estranged from so many former close friends that I’ve pushed away by my conduct that it is a source of constant, daily regret that I no longer have them in my life. People I used to be able to call, or meet up with for a point, have distanced themselves from me, not because of anything they’ve done, but because of my words or my actions.

The charge that wounds me above all others is the one my sister regularly levels against me to anyone prepared to listen; namely I am a bad father. This hurts. It stings. I fear its repetition so much, because it may have been true at some point, even if it isn’t now. My life was in a black hole of despair and utterly worthless in 1999 when I quit England to spend 2 years in Bratislava as a TEFL teacher. Apart from an ignoble relapse in 2004, this decision turned my life around and I became a far more worthy person as a result of these experiences (though still an intermittently cruel, deceitful and vain bastard all the same). Sadly, in order to do this, I abandoned my then wife (I was a hopeless husband I’ll admit; these days we get on far better than we ever did when married) and 4 year old son, to set up home in Slovakia.

It was the classic mid-life crisis of early middle age; at 35 I needed a new identity and life, which I found by the banks of the Danube. I had a great job, some brilliant new friends, a football team to support (Petrzalka) and another to play for (Bratislava Academicals); I didn’t have my 4 year old son though and I wonder and worry how much my disappearance affected him. He’s in sixth form now and ostensibly a totally switched on happy young man. He’s in to indie music, rugby, booze and taking the piss out of me; all healthy pursuits, but I don’t know (and I’m scared to ask) whether my departure harmed him at any deep level or if it has caused any residual anger or hurt that he is bottling up.

As my late October blog http://payaso-del-mierda.blogspot.com/2011/10/capitalism.html showed, we get on really well and enjoy our time together, as we have done at gigs such as Trembling Bells, The Fall and Wire this autumn. However, back in December 2005, we almost died together. On Sunday 18th December that year, driving back from my dad’s in Swalwell, a Tesco 18-wheeler rear ended us on the A1 going north past the Metro Centre and we should have all bought it (the ex-wife was there as well). Amazingly, we didn’t and all walked away unmarked, eventually picking up enough compo for a canny summer holiday in the Algarve, with Ben ready to receive a decent cheque when he turns 18 (put it this way, his first year fees at University have been taken care of) though each December 18th my blood still runs cold when I think of the accident.

I like to be able to mark each anniversary this crash with a special little dad and lad event, so with Percy Main v Harraby biting the dust on account of a frozen pitch, we headed for Newcastle v Swansea. Initially, opting for this when there was real football available at Benfield (they lost 3-2 at home to Jarrow Roofing after being 2-0 up!) made me feel a slightly guilty, fraudulent glory-seeker on the 38 in to town, but as the ticket was part of the bairn’s Christmas Present, these feelings melted away.  The match may have ended with a blank score line, but I’ve never been more pleased to attend a game at St. James. This was a game that purged my being and left me emotionally and intellectually cleansed; never before has a game done me so much good. The £26 each ticket cost was an absolute giveaway, for what I got out of it. Indeed, I can honestly say, I will resolve that forevermore, I am going to be a better person because of December 17th 2011. I don’t know how much longer I have to live; at night and in the morning, pains, aches, unexplained strains and soreness worry me. I fear for my kidneys, my heart, my liver, perhaps even a stroke; if I am to go, I want it to be with a clean slate, a clear conscience and a sense of all wrongs righted. I do not want people to speak ill of this dead person, even if, as it has been so often predicted, I “come to a bad end.”

I am an atheist and proud to be so, but I will admit to having a tear in my eye when “Bread of Heaven” was sung for Gary Speed before kick-off; not because I found the words particularly uplifting, but because of a chance encounter in the ground. Having arrived late to the party, the only pair of adjoining seats to be had, other than in Bar 1892 (and much as I love the bairn, I wasn’t prepared to lash out £46 each on a ticket for this one, though being wise after the event, I know I would willingly have paid ten times more for the epiphanies I discovered ), were up on the Level 7 balcony, which made Rob from Steel Wheels’s choice of half time record particularly apposite; I’ve always loved “Eight Miles High” by The Byrds. While slogging up the 200 steps to our seat, which afforded us a fabulous view (see lousy photo) we fell in to step with a work colleague of mine, Mark McCutcheon, who plays for Team Northumbria in the Northern League Division 2. As they’d played on Friday night, beating Whickham 3-1 (yes I’d been there for the second half, of course), he was taking the opportunity to fetch his old man to this game.

Mark’s dad is Alan and he was an apprentice who worked with my dad years ago. I’d only ever met Alan once before, at my dad’s retirement do at the Benton Ale House (or The Ship as it was then), in October 1994. He recognised me immediately and, though it was over 2 years since my dad had passed away, he grasped me warmly by the hand and told me “Eddy was the best gaffer I ever had; the best.” Add to this knowledge, the emotional sight of 52,000 people holding aloft pictures of Gary Speed you’ll understand why I was in tears.

As for the game itself, you’ll know the drill. Newcastle should have been three up by half time, but failed to press home their advantage and the game fizzled out in to a stalemate. As someone who mainly watches Northern Alliance football, I am always delighted to see a Premier League game, so I can appreciate at reasonably close quarters (it was Level 7 after all), the dazzling skills of Coloccini and Cabaye, and the ruthless determination of Tiote and Ba. In many respects it was a relief not to have to see Tim Krul pulling off any breath-taking saves for a change. Thankfully, the team performance was so good that neither Perch nor Obertan received any mindless barracking from clowns who seem to only enjoy themselves when there’s something to moan about.

Two things did disappoint me; those showing so little respect for the late Gary Speed that they turned the bits of card with his photo and the words of “Bread of Heaven” in to paper aeroplanes and the idiots who booed at full time, though I’ve no idea what they were booing. At least DJ Rob drowned them out with the fabulous choice of Teenage Fanclub’s “Baby Lee,” a song so uplifting I emerged at the bottom of the stairs spiritually ready and emotionally prepared to get falling down drunk on Thwaites’ Wainwright at the Percy Main Amateurs Christmas Do.

To conclude, I have to say I’m not proud of the person I have been or who I am, but I am resolved to be better in the future. If I can remove the detestable and mean parts of my character, I will know that the memory of Gary Speed, the handshake of Alan McCutcheon and the sound of “Baby Lee” will all have played their part in this, though hopefully it will be my resolve that made any improvements possible.

If, at any time in the past, I have hurt or angered you; I’m sorry. Truly I am and though I know words are cheap, please allow me to demonstrate by my future actions that I will never intentionally hurt or let anyone down again, especially myself.

Happy Christmas

The Bleak Mid Season

Michael Hudson asked me to pen an article about the Northern Alliance season 2011/2012 so far for his website http://northernleagueday.wordpress.com/ ; this is that article

The Northern Alliance is a bit like La Liga; not for us the vulgar bonhomie of festive football, with handshakes on the terraces and the swapping of hip flasks by rubicund men in freshly unwrapped sweaters.  Instead, we withdraw and contemplate on the highlights, or otherwise, of the season so far.

Glenn Roeder is a good man; I liked him as a player for Newcastle and I had no objection to him coming in as boss after the fiasco that was the Souness Administration. While Roeder successfully got Newcastle playing football in the latter half of the 2005/2006 season, including highlights such as Shearer breaking Milburn’s scoring record, the 4-1 annihilation of the Mackems and a 7th place finish that seemed scarcely possible when we’d lain 15th in late January, the job of permanent boss was too big for Roeder. Admittedly he was the second Newcastle manager to win a European trophy, when the 2006 Inter Toto Cup was secured when Auxerre beat Livorno (don’t ask), but league form was atrocious and he resigned in May 2007 after a particularly dire 2-0 home loss to Blackburn, stating “it’s been a bloody awful season,” a sentiment we at Purvis Park can empathise with as the 2011/2012 campaign reaches its midpoint. Frankly, when the home game against Harraby Catholic Club was called off on the Friday night before the scheduled 17^th December fixture, we all cheered as it meant we’d not be beaten that weekend!

So, who’s hot and who is not in the rest of the Alliance? At the top of the Premier Division, Heaton Stann lead Carlisle City by a point, with Killingworth in 3rd, with Harraby Catholic Club down in 7^th but with games in hand always likely to be a threat. At the bottom, Murton are struggling, but so too are Ponteland United; not in a relegation spot yet it’s true, but the reigning champions lost 8-1 at home to Whitley Bay A and 6-1 at Reyrolle in successive weeks. Things look ominous for them.

Down in Division 1, the big story has involved the sad demise of Wark; the Tyne Valley Club were 3^rd in the Premier only 2 seasons ago, but they’ve lost players, committee and backing, so they chucked it, as did perennial strugglers Newcastle East End as new manager Tosh Burke was unable to raise a team, echoing the frustrations of previous boss Anth Doyle. The result being, following the disappearance of both Berwick United and Stobswood in pre-season, as well as Peterlee’s defection to the Wearside League, the division is operating with a scarcely credible total of 11 teams. It is unclear whether the Alliance will operate the usual 2 up, 2 down policy, as 16-14-14 is rumoured to be next season’s preferred Alliance structure (currently it is 16-11-16); that would be great for D2 teams wanting to come up and D1 teams not wanting to go down, especially Chemfica whose record at their new Newcastle University Coach Lane base (not the Cochrane Park one) is played 9, lost 9, though they did draw 0-0 with Newcastle University on the adjoining pitch to their own. At the top, Amble United are well set for promotion, as are the non-nonsense Wallsend Town outfit, though the table is lopsided in the number of games teams have played.

In Division 2, Gosforth based Red House Farm and South Shields outfit Harton & Westoe are well in contention for the top two places, but Wallsend Boys’ Club Seniors are riding high as well. It is good news that all 5 new teams (Alnwick Reserves, Alston, Bedlington Reserves, New Fordley and Whickham Lang Jacks) are holding their own, but spare a thought for poor Cramlington United, who are 8 points adrift at the bottom, having only won a single game; their victims, Northbank travelled all the way over from Carlisle to lose that one!

On top of their league commitments, there are the Alliance’s 5 cup competitions for teams to compete in: three divisional trophies (Challenge, Combination and Amateur as we look down), the George Dobbins Memorial League Cup for all teams and the Bill Gardner Memorial  Trophy, for those who lose in the first round of the League Cup. The League Cup is down to the last 8, with 6 Premier and 2 First Division clubs left in it, with the games scheduled for January (as if!!). In the Challenge Cup, Heaton Stann face Carlisle City in an intriguing semi-final, while Percy Main’s conquerors Harraby must travel to Whitley Bay. In the Challenge Cup, the semis see Gosforth Bohemians host Wallsend Town in a struggle ideal for sociologists everywhere, while Amble United go to Newcastle University. In the Amateur Cup last 4, Whickham Lang Jacks face Bedlington Terriers Reserves and Willington Quay Saints host Harton & Westoe Colliery Welfare, in what must be the game with the two teams who have highest amount of letters in their names in the league. The Bill Gardner Trophy semis haven’t been drawn yet, but the last 4 are: Bedlington Terriers Reserves, Newcastle University, Wallsend Town and Wideopen & District.

As well as the Alliance cups, Premier Division sides from Northumberland are in the NFA Benevolent Bowl, along with Prudhoe Town of the Wearside League (it’s a complicated one to explain). It’s at the last 8 now. The First and Second Division teams join with the Corinthian League, the Tyneside Amateur League and the North Northumberland League to play in the NFA Minor Cup, which is now at the last 16, with 9 Alliance teams left in it. As regards teams in the Durham FA, Hebburn Reyrolle face Brandon British Legion in the semi-final of the County Trophy, while Whickham Lang Jacks fly the Alliance flag in the Durham Minor Trophy second round. In Cumbria, Harraby are in the quarter final of the county cup. If asked I’ll let you know how it all pans out as season’s end!

A Waste Of Breath........

At the start of the 2011/2012 season, I made a decision as regards the Percy Main programme and my contribution to it. with only 1 page available, I decided against the sort of articles I've put on here, mainly as I couldn't express myself so concisely. Instead I've been doing "From The Main," a welcome page, and "Around The Grounds," a non-league round up for the north east. I've made the decision not to put them on here as they are news items rather than comment. However, as the edition planned for the visit of Harraby Catholic Club on 16th December 2011 will never see the light of day as the game was called off, I may as well put them up here for posterity. Sorry for their lack of depth, but this is the Alliance zeitgeist I guess.....



From The Main:

  Good afternoon everyone and welcome to Purvis Park for this afternoon’s Pin Point Recruitment Northern Alliance Premier Division game against our old friends from Carlisle, Harraby Catholic Club. I’d like to extend a special welcome to all the players, supporters and officials associated with our Cumbrian visitors, knowing full well that win, lose or draw, our pal Mike Little will be giving the John Smiths in the Cricket Club the benefit of his connoisseur’s palate. Who knows; we may have several special guests at the Percy Main Amateurs Christmas Party that takes place this evening at the Tap & Spile on Tynemouth Road from 7.30. If you are reading this, then you’re very welcome to join us, especially as the manager has arranged the appearance of a special cask of Harviestoun Brewery’s Schiehallion that Norman swears is the finest beer he has ever tasted. It’ll go some way to beat my personal favourite, the Draft Bass in the Tynemouth Lodge, but I’m prepared to give it a go.

If all this talk of beer is making you thirsty, then please remember today is the last chance to purchase Christmas Bottle Draw tickets from any committee member (only 50p each!), as the winning tickets will be selected tomorrow evening at 6pm. In addition, please remember, we are still collecting Evening Chronicle Wish tokens and there is a collection box for them in the clubhouse.

I’d like to apologise for straying away from sport to alcohol, but frankly the last few weeks have been enough to drive you to drink. The last 4 Saturdays have witnessed 4 successive defeats that have been encouraging and demoralising in equal measures. The least said about the 5-1 loss to Seaton Delaval the better and last week’s 1-0 loss at Walker Central was memorable only for Chris Bannon’s remarkable debut performance in goal. However, two encouraging losses saw us go down 1-0 and 3-0 to today’s opponents in the Challenge Cup and Premier division respectively.

However, hope must spring eternal and we have avoided defeat in our last 2 home games against Harraby. In August 2009, we won a pre-season friendly 2-1 with goals by Joe Betts and Liam Knox (while a certain Mr Little sunbathed with a few pints while, concentrating on the sound of leather on willow next door). In October 2010, we drew 0-0 in a simply superb game of football that was a credit to both sides. Let’s hope for more of the same today!

After today, we don’t have a game scheduled until January, when we’ve been handed 4 successive home games. Kicking off at 2pm on each occasion, we face Blyth Town (7^th), Stocksfield (14^th), Murton (21^st) and Rutherford (28^th), providing the weather doesn’t interfere. You can keep up to date with events on our new website, which will hopefully be available the old domain of www.percymainafc.co.uk in the very near future, but can currently be accessed at www.pitchero.com/clubs/percymainamateursfc/

Finally, can I just take this opportunity on behalf of everyone at Purvis Park, including players, management, committee members and helpers, to express our deep gratitude to all of you who come and watch the team? We are truly grateful and humbled that you choose to watch football at what I am convinced is the most scenic and most atmospheric ground in the north east. Please, if you possibly can, come and join us this evening in the Tap & Spile. If you are otherwise engaged, then please accept our very warmest wishes for the Festive Season and all the best for 2012.

Enjoy the game. Come on the Villagers!      

Around The Grounds:

It’s a grim fact of life that our recent difficulties mean that we’re casting nervous glances towards the bottom of the table rather than the top. Currently the Northern Alliance is operating on a 16-11-16 structure in the 3 divisions and without any information to the contrary, we’re assuming the bottom 2 still go down. At the minute, we’re fifth from bottom, 3 points above the nominal relegation spot. Things are tough for the Main, but they’re hard for the other strugglers too. Last Saturday bottom side Murton lost 2-1 at home to Carlisle City, who sit in second place a point behind Heaton Stannington (who are rumoured to be thinking of developing Grounsell Park to Northern League standards).  Second bottom Rutherford went down 3-2 away to fourth top Ashington Colliers,  but have 3 games in hand on the next 3 sides. Third bottom are Ponteland, who followed up an 8-1 crushing at home by sixth placed Whitley Bay A (2-1 losers at home to the Harraby outfit in seventh spot), with a 6-1 towsing at a Hebburn Reyrolle outfit who now stand tenth. Fourth bottom are Walker Central, then us. In eleventh place are Stocksfield, three points above us and with 2 games in hand, though they fell 3-1 to third placed Killingworth at Amberley Park last weekend. The other game saw ninth placed Blyth Town beat Shankhouse in fifth 3-1 at South Newsham.

In the abbreviated Division 1, Amble United are top, but Wallsend Town in second closed the gap to 4 points, with a 3-2 win at Benson Park against mid-table Gosforth Bohemians. The sides either side of them, fourth placed Heddon and sixth placed hosts Cramlington Town placed out a 3-3 draw.  Forest Hall and Chemfica remain in the relegation spots, with Morpeth Sporting just above, though it is difficult to accurately assess the true picture because of the imbalance in fixtures played by several teams, caused mainly by the resignations of Newcastle East End and Wark.

Division 2 is still headed by Red House Farm, who defeated seventh top Alston 3-2, with Harton & Westoe, 4-1 winners over eighth placed Wideopen & District, in second. Wallsend Boys’ Club are third, but were held 2-2 at Rheydt Avenue by New Fordley, who currently sit in ninth spot. The other two fixtures saw traditional bottom division goal extravaganzas, where third bottom Seaton Burn crushed rock bottom Cramlington United 8-0 and fifth bottom North Shields Athletic drew 5-5 with seventh from bottom Whickham Lang Jacks. Games like that will bring the crowds flocking back!

In the Northern League Division 1, Whitley Bay are third, after a 3-1 win away to an Ashington side whose fans reacted to this defeat in a most unsporting fashion it appears. Newcastle Benfield had gone nine games unbeaten, but still came unstuck 2-1 at Marske United. In Division 2, Team Northumbria remain top, after overcoming Gilford Park 2-1 away, while North Shields are second after a 5-2 romp away to Ryton & Crawcrook Albion. To continue the Division 2 optimism, West Allotment Celtic moved up to fourth, after hammering Seaham Red Star 5-0. Sadly things get no better for Blyth Spartans, who are rooted to the bottom of the Blue Square Bet North table, 5 points from safety, after a 3-0 thumping at Halifax town. Gateshead are sixth in the Conference table, but had a week off, as they advanced in the FA Trophy, with a 3-2 win over Mark Stimson’s Kettering, though I guess Ian Bogie’s side will still be haunted by their FA Cup second round loss at home to Tamworth, which has denied them a trip to Everton.

Those of you looking for a post-Christmas football fix in the absence of Percy Main games could follow this itinerary; Boxing Day 11am Team Northumbria v Ryton, 3pm Whitley Bay v Benfield. December 28^th 7pm Whitley Bay A v Seaton Delaval. December 30^th 7.30pm West Allotment v Gillford Park.  Who needs turkey and television when there’s football to watch?

                       

Everything Flows

It seems a long time since I uploaded my last blog about Newcastle United; in fact it was just over 3 weeks ago, on Saturday 12^th November. As ever, there have been seismic shifts and catastrophic crises since I last proffered up my thoughts on the circus at St. James Park.  I’d deliberately chosen that particular blank weekend in the Premier League calendar, as it seemed a safe bet that a quiet period on the pitch would be augmented by similar tranquillity off it. This is Newcastle United we’re talking about; things invariably don’t run to course and I was wrongfooted by Ashley’s gauche and tasteless renaming of St. James’ Park to something I’ll not dignify by using here. Being overtaken by events, last time out I attempted to mouth platitudes about this coarse egotism as a way of stalling for time, but I got things wrong, both ideologically and in terms of the zeitgeist when I foolishly said “I have no problem with this.”

As regards the latter point, NUFC Fans Utd held a meeting on Monday 14^th of November to discuss this situation, which I was unable to attend as I was watching fabulous C86 revivalists Veronica Falls at the Cluny, where the following statement was drafted -:

“As passionate supporters representing a wide range of opinion, NUFC Fans Utd believes strongly in the importance of communication and in light of the furore concerning the renaming and the naming rights of St James’ Park in the future, we call upon Newcastle United to review how it effects its own communication with supporters.

As the custodians of a Football Club steeped in 120 years of history and given the previous statements attributed to the Club’s Managing Director Derek Llambias that the name St James’ Park would remain an integral part of the Club’s future we are disappointed with the decision to drop the name St James’ Park, the manner of the announcement and how it was handled; without any consultation or appearance of constructive discussion with supporters.

We call upon the Club to act upon a collective desire among supporters for open and honest dialogue and we welcome any opportunity for supporters to engage in meaningful talk that benefits the Club in the short, medium and long term.”

It’s fair to say this is an expurgated, bowdlerised version of the sentiments echoed right across the NUFC fan base from the moment the new name was announced. Thus, my response to the zeitgeist was akin to hearing “New Rose” in December 76 then sitting down to write a triple concept album about Norse mythology. Obviously, anger is only one part of any response; tactics are the more important element and I was rightly excoriated by John in Vitoria. With his permission I’ve concatenated the email exchange we had to show his opinions, which I’ll not pass comment on, except to say he’s right -:

“I disagree with your use of the 'move on' cliché, which is merely a get out of jail card so beloved  of politicians and bankers who’ve been caught with their hands in the till, especially in the way it relates to the name change. It’s extremely disappointing that you are taking what is effectively the Judas Moncur line and no amount of imperious detachment can hide the fact you are two steps behind the masses on this issue. At times like this we need leadership and ideas, not hand washing or cynical sighing.

Your statement "Thus, it may be the case that having SJP rebranded is a bitter pill to swallow, but a necessary one, if Newcastle United are going to be run at a profit” is not only disingenuous and unfortunately an echo of the corporate arse lickers and ex-pros who swallow the Ashley line hook line and sinker. Have you read David Conn? Is 'capitalism in crisis' just a phrase to you? The most erroneous point you make is the suggestion renaming will go towards making NUFC profitable. That's total garbage. Even on a capitalist basis Ashley's move is a massive blunder.  Renaming St. James’ Park is not being done for GBP 10 million or whatever; it’s for power and prestige.”

What can I say? Maoists would call such public self-criticism Jingtao; ominously those who practised it were still often put to death. However, I think at the end of the day, my error of judgement and ideological faux pas may be looked upon with less critical eyes than those who sought to make the change in the first place.

One interesting development in the relationship between the club and certain elements of the fan base was a meeting that took place at some point in the week after the renaming fiasco. I have to state that I’m writing this blog under the equivalent of a voluntary D-Notice, but bear with me and I’ll tell the truth as best I can. News broke on Twitter, via an enthusiastic, dedicated and morally unimpeachable member of NUFC Fans Utd, who had been informed by an aghast local journalist of a meeting between the club hierarchy and representatives from www.nufc.com NUST and The Mag. Intrigued I texted Biffa, who was en route to Manchester City at the time, asking if he was getting a lift down with Mike and Derek; his response was “we’re all big one happy family.”

Now, I’ll cut Biffa an enormous amount of slack; he’s a maverick who has always followed the Groucho Marx maxim and has consequently maintained excellent relations with everyone who knows him, by his resolute independence more than anything else. Frankly I’ve never known anyone who has met him to badmouth him. The uniformed and unwise have complained of a lack of editorial direction from www.nufc.com but of course it is primarily a news service and not The Sunday Times Insight team transplanted to a football context. Those who’d berate him for allegedly giving the club an easy ride miss the point of his website. Attending a meeting with the club ownership was a no-brainer; he had to be there. Of course, one wonders why such a meeting has not been mentioned on his website, although it is fair to say he will have no interest in the official club position of Supporters’ Liaison Officer, which will be a requirement of all Premier League clubs from 2012/2013 season. Other people may have eyes on that job, though speaking as the only viable candidate for the position, I don’t object to not being invited to sit around the camp fire.

As regards NUST’s attendance, along with their printed companion The Mag, we have a very different case. Despite a flurry of early autumn emails and an open meeting on a Friday night about “the future of football,” it would be almost impossible for that largely ignored and frequently derided organisation to lower its approval ratings among the rank and file supporter, but I guess that they did just that. As communication with members seems to be anathema to them, they have not deigned to mention it on their website, though The Shite Seats blog talk about it in detail at http://www.shiteseats.co.uk/post/13005458971/areweunited 

The Mag may be the longest established of the three Newcastle fanzines (Black & White Daft only appeared in 2010 and Toon Talk was launched as playersinc back in 2003), but it is also comfortably the least interesting. I’ve not picked up the issue that came out on December 3^rd as yet, but I’d be surprised if it includes any reference to this meeting with the club. It would be interesting though to see if their editorial tone towards Ashley and Llambias varies from a position of mild disappointment that reminds me of nothing so much as an effete C of E vicar simpering over a gang of tearaways stripping lead from the vestry roof.

However, Newcastle United is the absolute acme of Heraclitus’s maxim “panta rei,” which can be rendered as either “everything is changing,” or as I prefer, “everything flows.” Consequently just as levels of supporter disgust at the apparent secrecy of this meeting began to build in the week that culminated in the fabulous point gained at Old Trafford, the whole NUFC cosmos tilted with the tragic news of Gary Speed’s death on November 27^th. I’m writing this is the period after the immediate outpourings of emotion as news of his passing broke, but before his funeral and Newcastle United’s official tribute to him.

I wasn’t born when Kennedy died, but I do know where I was when I learned of Gary Speed’s death. I was outside High Heaton Co-op unchaining my bike after buying some milk; a risibly banal counterpoint to an epochal tragedy. The news upset me beyond words on that day; Speed had been a fine player and an outstanding figure at Newcastle United between 1998 and 2004. He’d been moved on scandalously early in my opinion and I always wished him well at Bolton and Sheffield United, as well as in his final role as manager of Wales. I didn’t know him in the way Shay Given or Alan Shearer did and their upset at his passing was touching beyond words. Shay’s visible distress at the Swansea against Villa game was replicated only by Gary’s father at the Everton v Stoke fixture last weekend.

Whatever the causes of Gary Speed’s death, the fact remains it is primarily and overwhelmingly a private tragedy; his family must be allowed to mourn and the football world must move on. I remember when Bobby Robson died the day before my dad on July 31^st 2009; the final tribute and minute’s silence for him I recall was when Newcastle played at Ipswich on September 26^th 2009, almost 2 months later. This is too long; there is always the chance that mourning for this length of time will result in mawkish sentimentality.

Louise Speed attended Leeds United’s home game on December 3^rd, meaning Newcastle United’s tribute to Gary Speed will now take place on December 17^th versus Swansea. This is right and proper as it was her request to delay the celebration of her late husband’s life; however, a line must be drawn after this. Football does not need Gary Speed, the epitome of an undemonstrative, professional team player and not a preening, arrogant egotist, to turn in to a Lady Diana figure. Despite the circumstances of Gary’s death I refuse to speculate or to draw any comparisons with or conclusions about Stan Collymore’s latest bout of depression. Until the facts emerge, speculation is both prurient and unhelpful.

As regards Gary Speed, there is a private funeral and an inquest to come, both of which will be incredibly painful for his devastated family; we must allow them space for private grief and reflection. Let Gary Speed’s memory be celebrated in the way he conducted himself on and off the pitch; with dignity, with honour and with humility.

In the time since my last blog, Newcastle have played arguably their 3 hardest games of the season, performing creditably on each occasion, losing at Man City, drawing at Man United and losing at home to Chelsea. In the immediate aftermath of the Chelsea defeat, prolonged whining about the referee gave way to the requisite heavy drinking afforded by an early kick off. By the time I arrived in town after seeing the Walkergate Brazilians (Newcastle Benfield) march on to the last 32 of the FA Vase with a safe 3-1 win over Deeping Rangers from Lincolnshire, the Irish club was knee-deep with insensible, bladdered gobshites, who had started to accept the point at Old Trafford courtesy of the dodgy penalty had been countermanded with a vengeance in the shape of Luiz not being red-carded. So it goes, as Kurt Vonnegut would say.

With these tough fixtures out of the way, the run up to Christmas sees Norwich (A), Swansea (H), West Brom (H) and Bolton (A) as the next four games. We should be looking at a minimum 8 points from these encounters, but with Steven Taylor out for the season and Colo struggling to shake off a thigh strain, not to mention the continued absence of Williamson, we may have to revise our opinions downwards. Obviously the lack of central defenders in the squad takes this piece back to where we came in; this is all Ashley’s fault for running the club on such a ludicrous budget. We have to play Perch and Simpson at centre back as there’s nobody else at the club who can fit in there. This is crackers, but even more ludicrous is the depressing notion that whether we get 12 or 0 points from these games, none of us, not even Del’s Boys who were invited in to the inner sanctum a few weeks back, know how it will affect the club’s policy for the January transfer window. As regards playing staff,  we need 2 centre halves to augment the recruitment of both the left back and  striker we needed back in August, but whether we get them or not is still another matter.

Providing we don’t get Wearside-bound Emile Heskey, that’s alright with me.

Robbing Friday

When I sat down to write this blog, it was 7.30 Friday night and I simply didn’t know what to do with myself. Sure there were a dozen bottles of Hook Norton Gold and Fuller’s Bengal Lancer, not to mention half a case of Arabella Sauvignon Blanc 2010 and a similar number of Darnault St. Chinion 2007 that I could have been shifting, but a malaise had come over me. I should have been euphoric, having finished a fortnight from hell with coursework and UCAS references to deal with; I now had slack time on the horizon, including a trip to Carlisle with Percy Main and Wire at the Academy on the Saturday to enthral me. Sadly, I was at a loose end for the first Friday night since late February as the League of Ireland has closed down for the winter and my Friday night Twitter duties are at an end until the spring.

The previous week (Friday 11^th November) was the first post domestic weekend, but Ireland’s thrilling 4-0 win away in Estonia to the Euro 2012 qualifying play-offs kept my quota of Celtic fellow feeling topped up. I’m elated that Trappatoni’s team have made it through, for the first time since 1988. How well I remember that glorious Sunday afternoon at the end of my PGCE year in Leeds, watching footage from Stuttgart of Ray Houghton’s winning goal as Ireland ground the Saxon invader’s face in to the dust. It didn’t pay back the 800 years of oppression in full, but it was a fairly good start. The subsequent draw with Russia when we ought to have won and the cruel loss to Holland when Gullit’s header bounced crazily away from Packie Bonner like a Muralitharan doosra on a Colombo sticky were almost incidental to the joy of putting one over on England. There are rumours of a pre-tournament friendly at Lansdowne Road, for the first time since 1995 when English thugs caused the game to be abandoned after David Keely gave Ireland the lead, but I’d rather wait until we got to the Ukraine or Poland to gain maximum publicity for the next instalment of Erin’s revenge.

The domestic game in the 26 Counties wrapped up on Sunday 6^th November, when Sligo Rovers were a shade fortunate to retain the FAI Cup after a game which started like a tornado but blew itself out by half time. The hero was Ciaran Kelly, who came off the bench in the 119^th minute to save a brace of Shels penalties to send the cup back to the Showgrounds after a 4-1 spot kick success. Paul Cook’s psychological masterstroke in using the keeper who saved all 4 Shamrock Rovers efforts the year before at this stage, was out of place in a Sligo performance that was woefully lacking in ambition, with Richie Ryan and Matthew Blinkhorn particularly abject, though Rafael Cretaro sparkled from the bench and deserved a winner’s medal.

Sympathy is due to Shels who took the lead via Philip Hughes, had Barry Clancy unjustly sent off and saw Stephen Paisley put in an imperious man of the match performance at centre half. However, it has to be said they were knocked out earlier in the competition by Sheriff 3-2 at Tolka Park, only for the FAI to reinstate them after Sheriff had used an ineligible player. After that, Shels struggled past Limerick and St. Pat’s, after a replay, so perhaps Sligo deserve the cup on the basis they were the only unbeaten side in the competition.

Sligo were Premier Division runners-up to Shamrock Rovers, who won the title with a game to spare by 4 points, with League Cup winners Derry 3^rd. St. Patrick’s Athletic came 4^th, but will be kicking themselves for not winning the cup after being a goal and a man up on Shels after an hour of the first semi-final. Bohs managed to claim 5^th place, which was a fairly remarkable performance considering they started the season with rumours of their imminent demise constantly circling. The rumours are still there, but so are Bohs; sadly Pat Fenlon may not be, as he’s apparently off to Hibs and the best of luck to him in that task from a long-suffering Hibee. Bray were 6^th, and Setanta Cup runners-up Dundalk were 7^th, with UCD 8^th and Drogheda in 9^th; all of these lot managed to maintain their Premier division status, but Galway United, who managed to accrue the grand total of 6 points in the whole season, including a win away to Bohs, are allegedly relegated to Division 1. However, whether there’s a Galway United or even a First Division is a matter that won’t become clear until the February announcement from the L of I Licensing Committee.

Division 1 ran with 11 teams last year, after Sporting Fingal’s demise allowed Drogheda to be reprieved. Next season it has 9 teams currently entitled to participate, though as I say, things are currently still to be confirmed. What is undeniable is that League Cup runners-up Cork City were Champions, having won away to second place Shels on the last day of the season. The two of them were promoted outright. Roddy Collins did remarkably well to lead his Monaghan United side, 2010 play-off losers, up as play-off winners after beating Galway United. Limerick just missed out in 4^th place, with Waterford 5^th, Longford 6^th, Athlone 7^th, Mervue 8^th, Finn Harps 9^th, Wexford Youths 10^th and Salthill Devon last. Wexford avoided the wooden spoon by 3 points, gained in the last game when they beat the hapless Salthill.

As yet, there has been no scheduling of a play-off game for Salthill to maintain their status, presumably as the A Championship has now been abolished. Consequently, the 3 sides from the City of the Tribes are still in Division 1, even if Galway United are in disarray and Salthill have mooted resigning. Surely Michael D Higgins can make this his first priority in his presidency?

In addition to the difficulties of Bohemians, Galway and Salthill, Bray Wanderers are short of a few quid. Who knows what will happen; remember the abolition of the A Championship has cast FC Carlow, Cobh Ramblers, Fanad United and Tralee Dynamos adrift, as well as former members Castlebar Celtic and Tullamore Town. Whisper it quietly; there’s plenty of scope for a regionalised pair of First Divisions. Or is that too sensible of the League of Ireland?

Before this is decided, there’s the small matter of Shamrock Rovers remaining trio of Europa League group games; much as it pains me to say it, all the best of luck to them.

2010/2011

As featured in Toon Talk #7

Well, here goes with the last instalment of the Rock & Dole Years. This is a project that has occupied me since 2004 and the Editor has been gracious enough to support my endeavours by publishing the last 16 instalments of the series, from 95/96 in players inc #13 to 10/11 in Toon Talk #7. I’ll always be grateful to him for that.

I began the series by writing about 74/75, which ended up being Joe Harvey’s last campaign in charge. Joe was a gentleman and we’ve had precious few of those in the hot seat at St. James Park over the years; obviously Sir Bobby and KK fit in to that category, while decent, honourable club servants like Willie McFaul and Glenn Roeder shouldn’t be scorned either, despite the manner of their departures. In a season that was every bit as tumultuous as the36 previous ones I’ve written about, Chris Hughton was denied the chance to join the hallowed triumvirate of loved Magpie bosses (Harvey, Keegan and Robson) and must remain in the respected second tier with McFaul and Roeder, when he was unceremoniously sacked on the flimsiest of footballing pretexts.

2010/2011 kicked off less than 16 months ago, but looking at the side that began the campaign on a hot Monday night with a 3-0 defeat at Old Trafford, it seems a lifetime ago. Of the 13 players who were involved then, 5 have been sold (Carroll, Nolan, Barton, Enrique and Routledge), 4 appear to have no future at the club (Harper, Perch, Smith and the permanently out on loan Xisco), while the 4 others are: Williamson, who is injured, Gutierrez and Coloccini, who are essential to the team and Shola, who is famous for scoring against the Mackems and for being Sammy’s brother.  The Man United defeat was entirely expected and bar one half chance for Carroll, we created nothing all night, showing that insistent supporter worries about a lack of investment in the team seemed well founded. Other than the journeyman Perch who’d arrived from Forest, the only other signings we’d made were Dan Gosling, who was a long-term injury victim and Sol Campbell, who was on honeymoon!!

A sense of impending dread accompanied the first home game against Villa, who had gloried in our demotion back in May 2009. The foreboding intensified when Carew put the ball on the spot after 9 minutes; thankfully he almost hit the penalty out the ground and minutes later we took the lead with a thunderbolt from moustachioed Joey Barton, when Whees Keyse Louise in the Grauniad tried to suggest he performed a Nazi salute celebration. Ludicrous, but not as ludicrous as the pre match thought of us winning 6-0, but we did, with a Carroll hat trick and a Nolan brace. We followed this up with a 3-2 at Accrington in the League Cup, when Ryan Taylor scored a beauty and took a point from Wolves, when Karl Henry kicked everything below throat height, to end August on an even keel.

At the end of the transfer window, we bucked our usual trend by signing players; the unknown Cheik Tiote arrived from FC Twente and the equally unheralded Hatem Ben Arfa came from Marseille. They made their debuts in a 2-0 home loss to Blackpool, where we had 40 shots on target but couldn’t find the net, before Ben Arfa showed why we’d bought him with a stunning winner at Goodison against a thuggish Everton side who should have finished with 8 players on the pitch. The only downer was Harper’s shoulder injury that kept him out for 4 months. In midweek, we had an insane 4-3 win at Chelsea in the League Cup, with Shola grabbing a fabulous last minute headed winner, before James Perch’s needless own goal meant we turned victory in to defeat at SJP against horrible Stoke. Thus we ended September with 7 points and in 10^th place.

October started badly with De Jong’s disgusting leg break lunge on Ben Arfa that wasn’t even called a foul; in a game we undeservedly lost 2-1. It seemed to be getting worse when Charles N’Zogbia came back to haunt us with an early double to seemingly win it for Wigan the week after. Thankfully, we didn’t give up and Colo’s 90^th minute equaliser could have been the springboard that saved the season and set us up, ready to progress. Firstly, we went to West Ham and played them off the park to win 2-1 after going a goal down, before the Halloween extravaganza. The Mackems had been boasting just what they were going to do to us; their messageboards and fanzines predicted 3 and 4 goal victory margins; right score, wrong side. Nolan 26. Nolan 34. Ameobi 45 (penalty). Ameobi 70. Ameobi 75. We crucified them, on and off the pitch, as the Geordies ruled the unwashed with a rod of iron. How I would have loved to have seen Steve Brewse’s dial as 50,000 Mags launched in to a special version of “Daydream Believer,” especially for him.

Anyway, the week after this we won 1-0 at the Emirates, with a Carroll header; it seemed almost like after the Lord Mayor’s show, but it made up for the Gunners possing us 4-0 at SJP in the League Cup I suppose. Up to 5^th place now, we decided to be shit again; a Williamson howler let a dreadful Blackburn side win 2-1 at St. James, before Fulham stifled us in another home game 4 days later; it ended 0-0 without any chances of note. It got worse as we went to Bolton and were murdered 5-1, with Colo and Williamson (retrospectively) seeing red. A good point at home to Chelsea on a snowy Sunday was followed by a poor 3-1 thumping at The Hawthorns which, utterly undeservedly, saw Hughton get his cards on the Monday.

Scarcely believably the replacement was Alan Pardew, which is when things get seriously daft as his first game at home to Liverpool, saw us clout them 3-1 when appalling weather kept pre match protestors in the pub and not on Barrack Lane. Following the intervention of the weather, we had a predictably bleak Festive period, losing 3-1 at home to Man City, 2-0 away to Spurs and 3-1 at Stevenage (of all teams!) in the FA Cup. We did stroll past West Ham by the unflattering margin of 5-0, with a Leon Best hat trick. Allegedly that game was what persuaded Ashley to sell Carroll and replace him with Shefki Kuqi and Stephen Ireland, another crock who made 1 substitute appearance in 5 months.

I’m getting ahead of myself as we drew 1-1 at SOS, when they bagged an injury time fluke after another Kevin Nolan funky chicken dance and home to Spurs, when they scored at the same time with a Lennon beauty. Post Carroll, we lost 1-0 at Fulham when Sidwell’s elbow did Shola’s cheekbone. The next game was Arsenal at home; words simply can’t describe that second half. I defy you to watch Tiote’s equaliser and not punch the ceiling even now. Simply amazing; imagine if Nolan’s last minute effort had skidded in and not a foot wide?

From there a dull 0-0 at Blackburn, an easy 2-0 win at St Andrews and a safe 1-1 home to Bolton seemed to suggest things were petering out for the season. Just to keep us on our toes, the team were crucified 4-0 at Stoke and lost at home to Everton, before a decent run-in. We brushed Wolves aside 4-1 with Jonas scoring his usual beauty against them, drew 0-0 home to Man Utd, when Owen got dogs abuse and got a point at Blackpool, to make up for losses at Villa and Liverpool, when Carroll got some stick; undeservedly in my opinion.

We saw the season out with a 2-1 home win over Birmingham, a plucky 2-2 at Chelsea and the 3-3 versus West Brom, when if we’d won, it would have meant an 8^th place finish; instead we ended up 12^th. Considering we’d lost a £35m striker and our manager mid-season, this was probably more than we’d dared hope, though it still wasn’t enough to suggest the owners were serious about the club.

Thanks for reading this series; all the best to you and Newcastle United for the next 37 years and more.

More Than Just Name Calling?

The early afternoon of Saturday November 5^th was possibly as close to sporting nirvana as fans of Newcastle United could legitimately expect to get. Not only did Ryan Taylor score an absolute wonder goal, which alongside his winner over the Mackems and a series of assured, confident displays at left back have won over almost all of his doubters (as well as paying off the debt accrued by all those free kicks he got for Wigan against us), but also the team closed out a comfortable, almost assured home win over Everton to move in to second place in the Premier League. Considering relegation was assumed to be the inevitable result of the squad disposal policy of the summer transfer window by fans and pundits alike, that’s a hell of a place for the club to find itself.

As I’ve said on many occasions; you don’t hear many people talking about Nolan, Carroll or Barton these days, though perhaps alarmingly, you don’t hear many people mentioning David Santon either, but we’ll park that thought for the minute. With Tim Krul in the form of his life, Steve Harper’s move to Brighton on loan has caused barely a ripple among the support; much less the wailing and beating of breasts his pals on the Groat Market would have pretended it would have done. We’ve moved on. The amazing news is that Pardew is the most tactically astute manager we’ve had since Robson, which isn’t saying much I know, but the puppet is now being seen as the pragmatist. If Redknapp’s surgery to remove his VAT return doesn’t go swimmingly, I’d suggest Pardew is a candidate for the White Hart Lane gig, especially if that meant Lee Clark could return to Tyneside, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

To add to that sense of achievement on Guy Fawkes Night, the team remain unbeaten in the league with 25 points from 11 fixtures; if the same 11 fixtures are taken from last season (with QPR replacing Blackpool for the sake of argument), then we’re 18 points better off. In the series of games in between the unnecessary and unwelcome October international break and the recuperative and restorative November Premier League ceasefire, Newcastle won 3 times, at home to Everton, as we’ve noted, against Wigan (courtesy of a beautiful Cabaye strike) and away to Stoke, on a night when Pardew played Pulis at his own game and won by an innings. The ball-drying tactics were a masterstroke that made football tactics uproariously funny.  Lovely fella though Chris Hughton undoubtedly is (and I wish him nothing but success at Birmingham), he could not have set ps his team to play as quarter as well as Pardew has been doing. When I stated I felt Hughton deserved sacking after the Bolton and West Brom away games last year, I was accused of malice; I’d like to think it was foresight.

The other game in October saw a marvellously entertaining 2-2 draw with Spurs, when Shola grabbed a point with a stunning strike past the miraculous and ageless Friedel. In the aftermath of this goal, my celebrations in the Leazes wing of the Milburn Paddock (yes, I actually stirred myself to attend this one) caused my phone to become unlocked and dial a random number. Touchingly, it saw fit to call my late father, whose number I’ve been incapable of deleting from my phone ever since he passed away the day after Bobby Robson. I think the old fella would have appreciated it, as he always defended Shola. Here’s hoping Ameobi Senior can get back to fitness and score a few more of those beauties; he’s only 135 behind Shearer now, so at the current rate of progress, he’ll be our top goal scorer of all time around 2030. Perhaps as a result of the quality of the Spurs game, the crowd was 3k up for Wigan, though there were dark mutterings among my informers of mass a return of the whinging tendency, who demand entertainment or the opportunity to moan about everything under the sun before the mascots have had their photos taken; whilst the twist-faced twats are endemic, I’ll not be back at SJP regularly. Indeed, my next scheduled appearance is against West Brom on December 21^st.  It better not be a bleak midwinter.

Going back to November 5^th, the fact the club moved back down to third after Man United beat the mackems, courtesy of an obligatory, obsequious own goal by former Red Wes Brown, no doubt as a celebration present to mark Ferguson’s 25 years in charge, took nothing away from Newcastle’s magnificent early season run. Perhaps the only low point was the extra time loss to Blackburn in the Carling Cup. The third of a trio of crazy, goal-drenched games that all went to extra time (2-1 at Scunthorpe and 4-3 at Forest) ended with the return of that gnawing, horrid, hollow feeling of impotent despair that defeat engenders. Let’s hope it isn’t destined to be a more frequent visitor than of late; sadly, the fixture list has been unkind to us with a bleak and unpromising set of games to come. However, the real downer about Blackburn was rumours of bad fan behaviour.

A week after NUST rose like lambs after slumber to host their mini-conference on the future of football (which apparently involves zero discussion on the ethics and conduct of the Supporters’ Trust), the past of football reared its ugly head. The same sort of pissed, brainless low-lifes who turned Darlington away in to Christmas Eve in The Lowther circa 1983 with added replica tops, were out in force at Blackburn. Unfortunately, the racist comment brigade was there as well. Having been to Arsenal v Bolton the night before and marvelling at the cross section of races, ethnicities and creeds at that game, I mused just how some of our lot would respond to the presence in the crowd of a sizeable proportion of young women attired in hijabs. Perhaps such stark and unequivocal proof that not only do well live in a multi-ethnic, multu-cultural society, but we’re part of a multi-ethnic and multi-cultural fanbase of a multi-cultural and multi-ethnic football team  may make some of the EDL-supporting, Carling quaffing, poppy fetishists face up to their idiotic prejudices as well.

Clearly I don’t attend many Newcastle games these days and I’ve not been to an away game since Hull in 2009, so I don’t know the full story. I suspect there are isolated pockets of idiots who are reflecting the intolerant zeitgeist of British society as the death agonies of capitalism affect us all. That said, it isn’t acceptable; I’d love our crowd to be self-regulating, but some times that isn’t possible. We discussed this at the Utd4NUFC meeting on Monday 7^th November, where our mission statement was agreed. It states -:

1. To encourage and promote open and honest communication between NUFC and its fanbase, encompassing individual fans and members of supporter associations or similar organisations, with the aim of helping the club excel both on and off the pitch.

2. To respect all participants and their views in order to be an accommodating forum for anyone with an interest in the betterment of NUFC.

 3. To form a credible coalition, representative of the diverse range of opinion held by all those who comprise the fanbase of NUFC.

 As a coalition we are open to and accepting of all opinions except those which are discriminatory on the grounds of race, ethnicity, age, gender, religion, disability or sexual orientation.

How an individual reacts to racism in the ground is up to them, but it was tentatively agreed, if the incident is during a home game, the minimum responsibility for any fan should be to take the seat and row number, then report it to a steward or the club, if you don’t fancy facing some bonehead down. However we deal with it and however few the incidents are, this infection needs cutting out now. Let’s be vigilant and assertive in the face of fascism. This is especially true, not only with the Anton Ferdinand incident, but the abuse suffered on 5^th November by Richard Offiong playing for Spartans versus Colwyn Bay and at Percy Main, when our own Aristote Diamos was racially abused by a Carlisle City player. This stinks; it really does. And I haven’t even mentioned the appalling incident with racist abuse meted out to Sammy Ameobi on Twitter, which has resulted in a couple of arrests of 17 year olds. Some have responded to this by saying they’re only kids; well my son’s 16 and he thinks racism is completely and utterly unacceptable. He would challenge anyone who said anything racist, so don’t try and play the age card. We all need to act like civilised human beings.

Getting back to the team, obviously, there are the gloomy naysayers who point to the current crop of crocks, with Tiote, Cabaye, Marveaux and Obertan joining Ameobi and Williamson on the injured list, though quite how bad the situation will be when we return to competitive action on November 19^th is another matter. While it’s untrue to say the club is in a false position because “Newcastle have played nobody yet” (according to received media wisdom), the next 3 fixtures will be very instructive, though I no longer feel the urge to watch Final Score through my fingers whilst hid behind the sofa.  

With trips to Manchester to play citeh then United in successive weeks, before Chelsea come to visit at the start of December, it is a moot point whether a fast tracked return of any or all of those currently unavailable is a sensible move, considering the fixtures after that are the marginally less intimidating quartet of Norwich, Swansea, West Brom and Bolton.  Indeed, a couple of batterings at the hands of the really big boys may inspire an owner less inscrutable than Ashley to beef up the squad come January. What will happen to Newcastle when the window opens is as much of a mystery and as impossible to predict as ever. The fact still remains; the club is as intriguing off the pitch as on it.

As I completed my first draft of this Blog on Wednesday 9^th November, the news broke that St. James’ Park was to be immediately renamed as the Sports Direct Arena. As you can imagine, this caused the kind of hysterical shit storm that clogged the airwaves and local press for 3 days. While 99% of people were against it, I felt, as a matter of principle, I was required to swim blithely against the tide of popular opinion. You see, I have no problem with this, as I’ll always refer to the ground as St. James’ Park. I do think Ashley should pay for the privilege of having the naming rights to the ground, but I’ll expend neither energy nor hot air on the subject, nor lose any sleep about it. It’s the same as the cut price season ticket deals that were announced after the Wigan game; what a fabulous concept, but what atrocious club PR.

As ever, we heard less than half the story. While Llambias graced Radio Newcastle with some arrogant flannel about it being his job to maximise corporate income and Bobby Moncur toed the Sports Direct line in a way that would have got him chained to the railings in Belfast with a bucket over tar over his head around the time he was lifting the Fairs Cup, the real story broke on Friday night. Northern Rock, no doubt suffering further financial privations, have pulled out of the club sponsorship deal with immediate effect.

Basically, this leaves Newcastle United £15m down and with no name on the front of their shirts. Now, with Captain Colo renegotiating his contract, there is an unpleasant way to make up that saving. Thus, it may be the case that having SJP rebranded is  a bitter pill to swallow, but a necessary one, if Newcastle United are going to be run at a profit, as Llambias seems to insist.

This one is going to run and run, as always.

Fragments of Unpopular Culture 9: What Makes You Laugh?

The following all make me laugh. A lot.

Love: Vol. 0

The first available train south from Central Station. Prosecco with friends. Fritz Lange summer season at the ICA. Buying the Daily Telegraph aged 12. Taking primary school age offspring to al fresco Shakespearean tragedy. Being taught how to pass a rugby ball. Silence. Going to the toilet in the Bodleian. Roasted garlic aroma. Rolling over in bed and missing the bus. Intolerance. Curt, solemn exchanges that close the door on the past. Bicycles. Contempt for the weak sensibilities. Porridge. Discussing Nietzsche. Marinetti. The A1. The Thick Of It. Forgetting about your grandparents. Early 70s repayment mortgages. Mutual inter-generational contempt. Refusing to disclose school sporting fixtures. Watching The Ascent of Man rather than It’s A Knockout. Brian Sewell. Militant. Vegetarianism. Vic Godard. Jean Luc Godard. James Bolam. Holland Park Avenue. Losing your regional accent. Not knowing the names of those you are related to. Passive opposition to violent heterosexism. Gazpacho. France.

Fashion Crisis hits Barton Stacey

Dear All. This is a very serious message that I hope you can pass on to as many people as you can. Last night at the big ASDA in Winchester a 49 year old Malaysia / Edinburgh / Ballymena / North Shields man in a yellow polo shirt went missing. Fortunately their policy when something like this happens is to lock the doors. The 49 year old Malaysia / Edinburgh / Ballymena / North Shields man in a yellow polo shirt was found in the toilets with an overweight bald middle aged man suffering from depression and his assistant cat from the Curva Nord with a drug problem. One was glueing a mask on him, while the other was writing across the front of the 49 year old man from Malaysia / Edinburgh / Ballymena / North Shields's yellow polo shirt. This comes from a shelf stacker called Charlie Posh who was there last night. Please pass the message round to as many as you can and remain extra vigilant in the company of other 49 year old Malaysia / Edinburgh / Ballymena / North Shields men in yellow polo shirts.

A Christmas Crimewatch Carol

Once upon a time there was a lovely little football club who played at their own lovely little ground, called Paradise Park. Unfortunately this little club had fallen on hard times; the team weren’t very good, even though some very hard-working Villagers looked after Paradise Park. Happily a young knight called Jay and his band of fabulous footballers made things wonderful on the pitch. Unfortunately, things were suddenly less than perfect elsewhere, as the hard-working Villagers, who only wanted to share a pizza among themselves at Christmas time, were terrorised by the incessant complaining or Evil Edna E-coli and the Whinging Welder.

In a dark, dirty corner of Paradise Park lived Freddy the Freezer. Freddy was a brave, strong and very accommodating cold store for lots of food. Sadly he had been in the service of Evil Edna E-coli, the Kitchen Kaiser, who had allowed Freddy to get filthy inside; in fact he was so filthy that green and black mould was growing all over him. Evil Edna E-coli and her partner in grime the Whinging Welder cackled with joy as they thought their dirty work was done and they left Paradise Park forever (or so they pretended). Thankfully, some hard-working Villagers spent all their summer Saturdays scrubbing and scrubbing Paradise Park’s kitchen until Freddy’s silver surfaces sparkled superbly. Freddy was happy when lots of buns, pies, chips, vegetarian sausages and even ice creams came to live inside him, as the kind Villagers worked hard to make Paradise Park as happy off the pitch as on it.

Then disaster struck. One sunny Sunday the hard-working Villagers arrived at Paradise Park to discover Freddy the Freezer had been switched off, but none of the hard-working Villagers were responsible for this terrible act of sabotage. Luckily Freddy hadn’t been switched off long and all his food was saved, but the hard-working Villagers thought hard about this incident and made a helpful sign to put next to the on/off switches so the Whinging Welder or Evil Edna E-coli wouldn’t be tempted to switch off Freddy the Freezer by accident, when they shouldn’t have been there in the first place!!

Freddy the Freezer had some kitchen chums who had just been brought to live at Paradise Park by the Kind Cook. They were Sammy the Sugar Bowl, Tommy the Tea Spoon and Mickey the Milk Jug. For three happy autumnal months they made the hard-working Villagers, the fabulous footballers and their visitors happy as they helped to sweeten and flavour the tea and coffee everyone collected from the Kind Cook.

However, one stormy Saturday as winter arrived, Sammy the Sugar Bowl, Tommy the Tea Spoon and Mickey the Milk Jug all disappeared from Paradise Park. Where had they gone? Had they been kidnapped? Freddy the Freezer thought he knew; Evil Edna E-coli had got her dirty mitts on them, with the Whinging Welder turning a blind eye.

There is no happy ending to this story; the hard-working Villagers are angry and the Kind Cook is out of pocket after her gifts to the lovely football club were kidnapped. All the hard-working Villagers can do to keep Paradise Park safe is to use their new friend Pamela the Padlock to keep things out of sight as best they can and stock take after every home game.

So, if you see some sad and lonely sugar bowls, milk jugs or tea spoons far away from their proper home, please send them back to Paradise Park.

Jackanory

Fragments of Unpopular Culture 8: Das Gruppe

For many, many years, The Fall used to be my favourite band in the world, ever, of all time. From the first time I’d heard them in late 1978, when my cousin played me “It’s The New Thing,” their second single, right through to a shambolic, non-performance at the Sage in October 2004, I’d spent over 25 years in love with the band. I bought every single release of theirs, attended every gig I could, proselytised them in print and even wrote for a fanzine called “The Biggest Library Yet,” which was based entirely on The Fall. These days, of course, I realise Teenage Fanclub are the best band in the world and The Wedding Present are the second best. However, on Friday 4^th November, The Fall are playing Newcastle and I’m taking Ben to see them. He’s 16 and I think he’s expecting to hear “Winter,” “Touch Sensitive” and “Theme From Sparta FC.” He won’t, but it’ll intriguing as ever to hear what they do play. As I said before, I’m out of practice writing gig reviews or music based pieces in general, so instead of trying to write what I think about them, here’s some stuff I did in the past that’s about The Fall.

The second article I ever wrote for “The Biggest Library Yey” was about my first ever Fall gig, which had been back in June 1980 at the Tyne Theatre on Westgate Road. This is what I said -:

Stepping Out

Wise-ass American film critics would call it a 'rite of passage'. We linguistically sober Little Englanders would refer to it as all part of growing up! I'm talking about my first ever Fall gig. It happened on 28 June 1980 at the Newcastle New Tyne Theatre. The gig cost £2.00 and beer was 43p a pint. I was a month away from my 16th birthday and was on something of a high, having just completed my O levels and secured a job in an electrical components factory. This particular night was a Saturday and I was still coming to terms with having £25 in my pocket in respect of my first week's wages.

The gig was being promoted by a wonderful organisation called Anti Pop that had done the Au Pairs and Delta 5 the week before and, wait for it, Pink Military Stand Alone (remember them?) the previous night. The New Tyne Theatre was not new at all, but an aged musical hall that had done time as the Stoll 'erotic' cinema before lying dormant - like its former customers presumably - for many years. It's still doing service as a theatre and infrequent musical venue; in fact, I saw Kristin Hersh there in April 1994. The best thing about the New Tyne was that all the seating was as it had been, thus me and about 10 mates commandeered one of the Royal Boxes, complete with velvet drapes and opera glasses, in order to get a better view. First on were local band Flesh, both of whom worked in the local Virgin Records store and were absolute shite. They released a record once: a cover of 'My Boy Lollipop' in the manner of Suicide. This was a decade and a half ago, remember.

Next to read the boards were Clicks, a band memorable only for having ex-Penetration guitarist Garry Chaplin as leader; they had played one gig the previous April as Iron Curtain and used Munch's 'The Scream' for their posters and t-shirts; Joy Division crossed with the Velvets, unpalatable now but very popular among the long overcoat proto-Bunnymen brigade. Now perhaps this doesn't seem to be much of a night to remember so far but Cabaret Voltaire, in their atonal electric Dadaist phase, were on immediately before The Fall and achieved an enormously polarised reaction. I thought they were brilliant; the rest of the audience bombarded them with glasses, jeers and phlegm. To be truly innovative, you must be prepared to endure the opprobrium of those less advanced then yourself I mused, then went for a pint.

When The Fall hit the stage, I had the horns of a dilemma to sit on; should I remain in the Royal Box with a perfect view, or should I venture to the front in search of a better atmosphere? There was no problem with sound quality, it was diabolical everywhere, but it was important for me to find the right spot to spend the second most important night of my life thus far. Subsequently, a man I did not know and have never seen since came up to me in a pub, the name of which I can't remember, and gave me a bootleg of the gig (did I cover myself legally on that one?) and what strikes me is just how long a gig it was. Perhaps it was the overpowering stench of Evo-Stik from the prototype punk retards in the bogs or just the sheer excitement I felt, who knows? It certainly affected my mental equilibrium. Anyway, most of the evening passed in a blur. As was their wont at the time, The Fall slipped in eight unreleased songs out of a 16-song set. I spent a lot of time inventing possible titles for the newies, such as - and how I cringe now - Totally Wild.

When I arrived downstairs, I discovered the closest I could get to the stage was about 50 feet. Contrast this with The Fall's next appearance at Newcastle in October 1981, when I spent the gig sat on the stage at the dismally naff Hofbrau German Bierkellar; this was in the days before Riverside and finding a place to play was almost impossible. The reason for being kept at a distance was the roped off orchestra pit area that hailed back to the Music Hall days. No doubt it had been maintained during the time it was a cinema to ensure the dirty raincoat brigade didn't impale themselves on the stage, attempting to ravish the Swedish nurses or lesbian nuns on the screen. Faced with this huge gap, I returned back upstairs. Sadly, unlike Royal Variety Command performances, all performers and audience didn't turn to applaud us and throw red roses at the end. My main memories of the set were of how wonderful 'Impression of J. Temperance' and 'New Puritan' sounded.

The only downer was at the end. As the gig would finish after the last bus and I hadn't a clue about taxis at that age, my dad had arranged to pick me up. Horror upon horror for me and my cousin, as my dad and uncle were waiting directly outside and proceeded to drone on for the 15-minute journey home about how dreadful punk fashions were and how the music is just noise - much in the same way as I go on about jungle/ techno nowadays.

Fall set at Newcastle New Tyne Theatre, 28.06.80
The N.W.R.A. / 2nd Dark Age / Impression of J. Temperance / City Hobgoblins / Totally Wired/ Muzorewi's Daughter / Fiery Jack / Gramme Friday / Printhead / English Scheme / New Face in Hell / Choc-Stock / Diceman / New Puritan / Psycho Mafia / Stepping Out

That was written back in 1994, which marked the halfway point between that gig and now. I’m amazed to see how much of a middle-aged, middle class snob I appear in the words I wrote back then. I hope I’m more tolerant now. I keep a copy of every single publication in which I’m had something printed, which extends to about 1,000 magazines, I’m not joking. One of these years I’ll sit down and catalogue them all. Every so often I’ll dig a few out and have a read; it’s instructive. I cringe as I fulminate over long disbanded, utterly obscure bands and make outlandish proclamations about the future of Newcastle United, none of which came true.

I didn’t think anyone read them until last October when a Canadian Fall fan contacted me and asked if I’d a copy of the tape from the June 1980 gig. As it happens I did, so I sent it to him and, amazingly, he sent me a copy of it back on CD, together with copies of the October 1981 gig (set list; The N.W.R.A. / Fantastic Life / Look, Know / Jawbone and the Air Rifle / Hip Priest / 2nd Dark Age / Lie Dream of a Casino Soul / Session Musician / Just Step Sideways / Who Makes the Nazis / Container Drivers // C'n'C-s Mithering > I'm into C.B. / Prole Art Threat / Deer Park) and one at Newcastle Riverside in June 1986 (set list: My New House / City Hobgoblins / Living too Late / Lucifer over Lancashire / Bombast / Riddler / Hey! Luciani / L.A. / Couldn't Get Ahead / Gross Chapel-GB Grenadiers / Hot Aftershave Bop / Prole Art Threat / Barmy / Cruiser's Creek).

Looking back now, it astonishes me the memories it brings back. All of the Felling Punks up in the Royal Box at the New Tyne Theatre, in 1980. In 1981, John and I accompanied by Rob, a lad who played bass in a band with me, who had a brain haemorrhage in 1987 weeks after graduating from University. He survived, but I’ve never seen him since, though his mother was in the same MA class as me. In 1986, fresh from University, only back in Newcastle a week, and Paul, Jeremy and myself were almost thrown out of the Riverside for dancing on the side of the stage to “City Hobgoblins.”

The quality of the sound may not be the best, but the quality of the memories is. I used to love The Fall and I still love the memories I carry of them.

In the second issue of “The Biggest Library Yet,” I contributed this piece -:

Close Encounters

Trying to get backstage at a Fall gig is almost as tricky as being initiated into the Freemasons. Out of an audience of 700, only three people managed it that night: me, my partner Sara, and my sister Elaine. The scene was a bizarre one.

'My lads', as Smith would call them, sat in one corner drinking beer and eating peanuts, whilst in the other MES stared out of the window, smoking like a laboratory full of beagles and drinking champers. On being introduced to him by the road manager, he shook us firmly by the hand, stood us a beer and let me shout things through his personal megaphone. He was disarmingly charming, offering us cigarettes, signing autographs and apologising for swearing in front of the ladies. He said they would seriously consider playing my wedding reception 'for about a hundred quid', informed us that he and Saffron were to be married on 27 April that year and politely excused himself as they had to be going. We left stunned and in awe - this was like visiting the Pope for me.

Sadly, European tour dates meant they couldn't do the wedding, but they sent a telegram saying: 'Apologies for our non-appearance. Keep your nerve. Your pals Mark E. Smith and The Fall.' It is framed and on display in our dining room.

Finally, in issue 13 of “The Biggest Library Yet,” I had this to say -:

Ol' (style) Gang

I've been a devotee of The Fall for 20 years now. All the tantrums and changes of direction taken by MES I've accepted without question. Yet, the incidents in America this spring left me a worried man. I really thought it was the end of the band. To be left with two members, one of whom had a court order against the other, seemed an insurmountable obstacle to the band's future development. As for the rest, well Karl Burns's frequent departures are simply par for the course. Personally, I like any Fall line up that features him more than ones that don't. I don't believe either Brix's Second Coming or especially Tommy Crooks could either ever be looked upon as an adequate replacement for Craig Scanlon. He was a genius. The Scotsman was no great loss. However, it was Hanley's departure that really struck home. How the hell he'd put up with everything Smith threw at him for so long amazed me. Yet I was equally amazed by the fact he finally said Fuck It and left.

The existence of Ark was not a surprise. I mean remember Blue Orchids, The Creepers, Kissing The Blade. Fall spin off bands are not a new phenomenon. Ark were due to play Newcastle in August. I was never in a dilemma whether to attend or not. At the time I was in Ballina, County Mayo on holiday. I'm not that surprised at the news that Ark have disintegrated. I mean having played in the Fall for all that time, any other band must be a complete anti-climax. I hope Steve Hanley finds fulfilment in his new job as a school caretaker. I doubt it somehow.

Anyway, as regards The Fall, I wasn't surprised MES decided to carry on, nor was I surprised at the shambolic nature of the first couple of gigs. Things seem now to be resolving themselves. I am delighted at the quality of the performance at LA2 on August 12. It was the day after my birthday and I wasn't there, still being in Ballina, County Mayo. The tape doesn't lie.

Having followed The Fall for 20 years, you start to get fairly traditionalist in your tastes. To me, the golden years have been from Dragnet through to Room to Live and Extricate up to Code: Selfish. For a start there's none of this so called pop sensibility on any of these records as Brix didn't appear on them and, Code: Selfish apart, there's very little in the way of electronics. I'll qualify all this by saying Frenz Experiment is probably my third favourite album, but it doesn't really fit in with the point I'm trying to make. I remember the old Sounds journalist Dave McCullough in 1979, possibly a review of the infamous glass-throwing Lyceum gig with A Certain Ratio, saying he loved (the original) Human League because they used unusual instruments to make perfect pop songs and The Fall because they used normal instruments to make totally original sounds. One August night in 1998, they seemed to have returned to that state of affairs.

I don't agree with The Fall doing this nostalgia tour of the States, though it does give MES a chance to attend the court hearing and if they played the Blackpool punk fiasco, I just wouldn't go, but the stripped down four piece sound is almost atonal enough to be music to my ears. Ol' Gang is no longer a Sister Ray soundalike, but a gentle piano piece. There's the cover of F-olding Money, a rockabilly number that's new to me, which comes over as White Lightning with the bassline to Words Of Expectation grafted on to it. Plug Myself In has falsetto vocals and Bo Diddley guitar riffs. Some bloke comes on stage and shouts 'Mark Will Sink Us' over and over again until the band returns and cover the Saints' This Perfect Day. Wonderful. I'd love The Fall to continue in this vein, but I'm fully aware that a studio full of tricks will no doubt supercede any desire for a stripped down sound when it comes to recording new material. It's just encouraging he's still alive and able to make music after what's gone on of late. Now I'm looking forward to a new English tour, especially as I'm no longer barred from Newcastle Riverside.