We Are The Dead

On February 29^th 1992 I made my first and, thus far, only trip to Burslem, where I was delighted to see Newcastle United defeat Port Vale by means of a solitary Steve Watson goal. Later that evening, in the lounge of The Station Inn, Silkstone Common, South Yorkshire, my then partner availed herself of the custom and practice of folklore associated with Leap Years, by initiating a chain of events that involved us marrying in Barnsley Town Hall on Friday July 31^st; I can scarcely credit the fact that two decades have passed since that day, especially considering we divorced in October 2001.

This leap year will be marked by the death of my mother’s dog Ronan. Blind, stick-thin and becoming ever more visibly distressed by the day, the poor thing was put down at 10.30 on February 29^th 2012. Frankly, there was no option; the dog had been my late aunt’s and when she went in to hospital with her terminal illness in July 2008, my parents took the little fella on, initiating out of expediency, then permanently when my aunt succumbed to lung cancer in September of that year.

When Xisco arrived at Newcastle United around the same time, I began calling the mutt by the hapless ex Deportivo bloke’s full name, Franscisco Jimenez Tejada, as both were unexpected and slightly perplexing arrivals. I have to admit that I’m no dog lover to start with, so the opportunity to welcome a highly strung, pedigree Maltese that was barely housetrained was low on my personal wish list. It was even lower on my old man’s, but everything he did in his later years was with the express intent of pleasing other people, whose needs he always put ahead of his own.

The dog was actually called Ronan, named after the sex phone-wielding leader of Boyzone; it only had 2 teeth in its head, as my aunt had insisted on feeding it the meat from the social services meals on wheels deliveries that she bought but never ate, preferring instead to live off a steady diet of tinned semolina and menthol cigarettes. However Ronan proved to be a crucial member of the extended family, as he provided a clear and continuing link with a disappearing generation and, following my dad’s death less than a year later in August 2009, the dog was a source of comfort and companionship for mam as she struggled to cope with the bitter, harsh reality of widowhood; goodness Ronan will be missed, the poor thing, but truly he had to go. The last time I saw him he was distressed, whimpering and repeatedly walking in to furniture and doors; it was heart rending. The unstoppable progress of anno domini always is, whether we’re talking about animals or humans.

Last December, a cyclist was knocked down and killed on Heaton Road, in one of those random, tragic events that stop the universe for the family of victims and provide a short paragraph on an inside page of a regional evening newspaper. This cyclist, a 71 year old grandfather, had crossed my radar very briefly back in 1986 when he was a neighbour of my parents, as he’d dug the grave for a family dog called Jeanie who passed in the autumn of that year. Now he’s gone as well; taken before his time in a million to one accident. Two dogs, a cyclist, an aunt and my father; all gone, forever. At the same time, there's illness and worry about a dying grandparent, a poorly pet and a friend with a health scare all whirling round my head as I spread my time too thinly to help anyone properly. 

Who knows where the time goes?, written by the late and much lamented Sandy Denny is no longer in the live repertoire of Fairport Convention, who were in blinding form at Gateshead Sage on Sunday 26^th February. The set they played was a fabulous crowd pleasing one, including highlights from their whole career; Matty Groves, Walk Awhile, Meet On The Ledge, of course. It is hard to believe the band have been in existence for 45 years. Similarly, the end of January marked the 40^th anniversary of Bloody Sunday, which, in one of those bizarre coincidences of history, took place 6 days before Hereford United knocked Newcastle out of the FA Cup. Are there many more iconic images of 1972 than those two events? Without wishing to rake over old ground, as it is an indisputable fact, backed up by the British Government’s own Saville Report, that the Brits were guilty of mass murder in shooting dead 13 unarmed civilians at a Civil Rights march in Derry. Perhaps the most eloquent interpretation of the aftermath of those brutal, stunning events was by Noble Prize winning poet Seamus Heaney in his poem Casualty, who described the funerals of the murdered thus -:

It was a day of cold

Raw silence, wind-blown

Surplice and soutane:

Rained-on, flower-laden

Coffin after coffin

Seemed to float from the door

Of the packed cathedral,

Like blossoms on slow water.

The common funeral

Unrolled its swaddling band

Lapping, tightening

Till we were braced and bound

Like brothers in a ring.

The elegiac beauty of the words complements the barely restrained fury of the poet’s thoughts and creates a stark, brutal image of senseless slaughter and a community uniting in defiance of the imperialist aggressor. Yet, the story Heaney tells isn’t the correct one; the funerals of the Bloody Sunday victims didn’t take place in St. Columb’s Cathedral in Derry, but in the parish chapel of St. Mary’s in the Creggan Estate. Heaney himself was not present at the funerals, nor indeed had he attended the Civil Rights march in Derry on 30^th January 1972, as he was a lecturer at Queen’s University Belfast at the time, some 65 miles to the east.

Clearly his non-attendance at these two events does not diminish Heaney as a poet in any way, but his reputation among the Nationalist community did receive a knock following his failure to show at the funerals; perhaps that is why he silently acknowledged his error of judgement, with the long-suppressed poem The Road to Derry. Written to be sung as a ballad by the wonderful Luke Kelly of The Dubliners, who passed away in 1984, the poem reads more as an auto da fe of one who was absent than the superficial travelogue and bingo card listing of sectarian outrages against the Nationalist community  it initially seems -:

 Along Glenshane and Foreglen
and the cold woods of Hillhead:
A wet wind in the hedges and a dark cloud on the mountain
And flags like black frost,
mourning that the thirteen men were dead.
The Roe wept at Dungiven and the Foyle cried out to heaven,
Burntollet’s old wound opened and again the Bogside bled;
By Shipquay Gate I shivered and by Lone Moor I enquired
Where I might find the coffins where the thirteen men lay dead.
My heart besieged by anger, my mind a gap of danger.
I walked among their old haunt,
the home ground where they bled;
And in the dirt lay justice like an acorn in the winter
Till its oak would sprout in Derry
where the thirteen men lay dead.


I was able to pay my respects to St. James’ Park on the day Newcastle United’s European aspirations received a grievous blow and, according to those who see Twitter as a chance to make sly digs (when they’re not talking about airports, restaurants or socks), NUFC Fans United was mortally wounded or, at best, hideously compromised as an organization.


I hadn’t wanted to go to Newcastle against Wolves at all. When a free ticket manifested itself (thanks Gary; hope your liver has recovered from Hamburg), I was under instruction from my son Ben that he needed it. Having forsworn NUFC forever in summer 2009, like myself, he’s now coming back in to the fold, tentatively. Personally, I was happy with a proposed visit to Lobley Hill for Rutherford versus Percy Main, but then events conspired to prevent me attending.


On Friday night, one of Ben’s mates called him up to say he had a spare pair of adjacent tickets in Level 4, so Ben decided to sit with a pal rather than alone. He still wanted the other ticket though, as another of the Heaton Manor Lower Sixth long haired layabout crowd fancied going, which was fine by me. When I’d provided him with 8 freebies for Newcastle v Watford in December 2009, his social standing had risen immeasurably, especially among the rest of his rugby scrum mates who’d scored for a complimentary seat in the 1892 Club.


Then, Saturday morning, playing in goal for my over 40s side, I was injured. Initially I thought I’d broken my foot in a collision with an opposition forward, but it turned out only to be bruised, though I may have a strained meniscus as well, which is nice. Hobbling off to get changed at full time (we’d drawn 2-2 after being 2-0 up and cruising early on, so I suppose it was decent preparation for an afternoon at SJP), I had a text from Ben saying he didn’t need the ticket as his mate, who’d somehow got it in to his head the game was a 5.30 kick off, “couldn’t be arsed” to get up for a 3pm start. The pounding in my foot and ache in my knee meant the thought of a comfy seat at St. James’ rather than an afternoon stood on a grass bank by the side of the pitch at a windswept Beggarswood began to appeal, so I made my 7^th trip to a Newcastle game this season; a figure that astonished me I have to say.

I’d learned earlier in the week of the NUFC Fans United plan to lay a wreath where the sign for St. James’ Park on Barrack Road had been removed the week previous. To me, this was a very effective gesture; visually, 6 pall bearers in morning suits carrying a black and white coffin, Graham from MAOC holding a black and white wreath, with “St. James Park Forever,” picked out in carnations and Steve Wraith in a “wind-blown surplice and soutane” leading the procession from The Strawberry, accompanied by the solemn beat of a bass drum, looked excellent, especially as the procession was accompanied by about 100 mourners. Everyone on Strawberry Place, outside Shearer’s and coming up the hill from the town, stopped and looked; there was spontaneous applause and more people joined the procession.

After laying the wreath, the gathering broke up and Steve Hastie distributed press releases to the assembled journos, while Steve Wraith did interviews. The whole thing was a success; it got the message out and publicised the great work NUFC Fans United is doing in trying to proactively galvanise supporters in to doing something. Predictably it has resulted in several bruised egos among the cyber intelligentsia who have either dismissed this as a Steve Wraith publicity stunt (it wasn’t) or complained that they hadn’t been consulted about this gesture. Several webmasters are currently in possession of perambulators that have been denuded of playthings.

Now, the latter complaint is an interesting point; if NUFC Fans United is a loose amalgam with no set constitution and a floating membership that is open to all, then there is not the mechanism to sit down and pass resolutions about potential activities; it simply requires action and activity, which must be better than sniping on messageboards or other social media outlets. Of course, anyone who disagrees can attend the forthcoming meeting next Monday night in the Irish Centre at 6.30 to discuss the impact the march had. From this distance, it is impossible to know what the consensus of active members is. Alternatively, there are those who will always prefer to sit at keyboards and gripe from a distance. Forgive me for naming names, but I didn’t see any form of protest from NUST or The Mag on Saturday gone. Surely seizing the initiative and doing something, as NUFC Fans United did, is better than impotent hand wringing?

Of course, following the march, there was a game to attend. As I took up my seat 5 rows from the back of the Gallowgate, but right on the penalty spot, it seemed akin to watching the game through a giant letterbox, but I have to pay tribute to the gang of youngish (18-24) fans around the Q70 area in the Upper Tier; they showed immense, positive support throughout the game. The vile booing at full time did not come from this section. Yes it was frustrating, but there is no justification for degenerating in to childish strops.

While Newcastle had their A Team out , there was no Plan B after Wolves refused to lie down and die. At 2-0 up with 16 minutes gone, the game was won; Cisse’s finish was smart and Gutierrez’s goal was sublime. In retrospect it was clear that a third would have made the opposition fold, but instead we went back in to our shell, allowing Jamie O’Hara, Matt Jarvis and Kevin Doyle to dictate the play. Lucky to be still 2 up at the break, we conceded one, seemed to ride the storm and then went 4-5-1 seconds before they scored a scrappy equaliser that summed up Williamson’s difficult day at the office. Complacency had cost us the lead and, as ever in these circumstances, once the initiative has been voluntarily ceded, it is often difficult to wrest it back. In this case, it proved impossible.

The last 20 minutes saw more and more desperate attempts to find a breakthrough; pointless long balls were fired at Ba, who was literally and metaphorically shackled by Wolves defenders as referee Walton ignored the repeated fouls on him, Guthrie had perhaps his most exacting period as a professional player, with every pass he attempted failing to find its target, while Ben Arfa pranced, posed and failed to pass as he became more and more of a synthesis of Ketsbaia and Martins as the game went on. Still, he did almost win it.

Unfortunately, I wouldn’t have had any better a day in Lobley Hill, where Rutherford cruised to a 2-0 win. The most disappointing thing about missing this game was my consequent failure to catch up with my old mate Raga from our FPX days. His texted match report made for gloomy reading: huff and puff without anything in front of goal… couple of wide of the mark chances… looked like several players not up to it… or having an off day… a lot of wanting to hoof it or flick on… nothing in between…

So, a gloomy day all round. It is undeniable that if Newcastle play that badly against the mackems, they will lose, which is why I’m relieved I’m not going. Being a pretend uber ultra, I did make it back to SJP for the Youth Cup quarter final against Blackburn on Monday for another 2-2 and another predictable Newcastle United loss on penalties.

Sadly the game had died for me well before the inevitable failure from 12 yards; at 9.15 on Monday night, I’d received the call about the dog’s imminent demise. RIP Ronan or Francisco Jimenez Tejada as you were sometimes known. RIP to everyone.

The Parting Glass

The very first time I set foot in the Stadium of Shite was August 30^th 1997, the day before Diana Spencer a acheté la ferme à Paris, to see the third game ever played there. After a scoreless friendly with Ajax and a 3-1 win over Manchester City in the debut competitive fixture, I’m happy to report Norwich City took the points with a Darryl Sutch strike in the 76^th minute that brought a smile to my cruel but terribly attractive features and was the difference between the two sides. Around the same time, other teams were opening new football grounds at Bolton Wanderers, Derby County and Stoke City; in an attempt to throw fresh light on these projects, a national football magazine (I forget whether it was 442 or When Saturday Comes) got supporters of these teams’ rivals to cast a critical eye on these new palatial facilities. Hence a Vale fan went to Stoke, a Forest follower investigated Derby and so forth. I was the one commissioned to visit Albania on Wear to provide a critical commentary on this alarming edifice.

It’s almost 15 years ago now and my memories of that happy weekend have dimmed; I do recall the ground had almost no discernible features inside or outside to help you find which stand or seat you were supposed to sit in, but it didn’t really matter as the crowd was 16k under capacity. Back then the attendance was about 26,000, though the swathes of unoccupied seats were vivid red rather than the tawdry, faded pinky orange they are now and that the locals were most unhappy with the result; a third defeat in four games that left them perilously close to the Division 1 (as was) relegation spots, following their demotion from the Premier in May 1997.

While manager Peter Reid was the target for much of the ire of the self-proclaimed greatest fans in world football, it has to be said that the player receiving the fiercest criticism was Mr. Charity himself, the St. Theresa of Saipan, who would later apparently act as the saviour of Wearside and who has just left the employment of the club he helped to purchase in 2006, Niall Quinn. Repeated volleys of contempt from the thinly populated terracing seemed to focus on the man’s drinking habits, though with hindsight it is more amusing to recall the person who attempted to model this club as being the natural home for Irish people wanting to take in a game of soccer and a weekend in Newcastle, endlessly being referred to as a “Fenian bastard” and “IRA shithouse” by the notoriously fickle and intolerant indigenous followers of safc.

I’m not a great student of the fortunes of sunderland, but I’m aware that in the 5 years that followed this shambolic afternoon in the sun, Quinn somehow reinvented himself as a man of the people and a popular player. Much of the good will he garnered is related to his supposed charitable largesse, whereby a 2002 benefit game was played between sunderland and Ireland at SoS, with Quinn eventually donating the takings to charity. It was a wonderful gesture and so much in contrast to a story I’d heard about a certain sunderland player demanding £2k to hand out some 5-a-side trophies to young offenders on a rehabilitation and reintegration programme at the Raich Carter Centre in Hendon just before the 2002 game alluded to above. Suffice to say, this player, famous for his popularity among fans, was replaced with Paul Collingwood, the Durham cricketer, who happily did the job for free.

However, let’s get back to Niall Quinn; the last time I saw him in the red and white was during an embarrassingly easy 2-0 win for Newcastle in September 2002 at St. James’ Park. Quinn came on as a substitute and looked, to me (an Ireland fan remember) how he’d always appeared; slow, laborious, ponderous and with a dreadful first touch. Soon after this game had passed him by, he retired on October 19^th 2002, allegedly to become a coach. This sinecure was short lived as Peter Reid’s sacking ushered in the calamitous Howard Wilkinson regime, where Quinn found himself to be extraneous to requirements.

After 4 years back home, necking  black stuff, playing the horses and turning out for Robert Emmets GAA club in Kildare, Quinn somehow showed up as the useful idiot fronting a collection of rapacious, greedy venture capitalists who’d grown supposedly rich on the back of the Celtic Tiger via pubs and the kind of property deals that brought Ireland to penury and left the state stained and scarred by a thousand bogus, ghost estates of unfinished luxury dwellings that no one will ever call home. They called themselves the Drumaville Consortium and while anyone with a pinch of common sense realised they’d as much of the Good Samaritan in them as a gang of fellas in a Hiace offering to tarmac your drive on the cheap, the regularly vilified Bob Murray took their money with a turn of speed rarely displayed by any of the players he’d signed in his 20 glorious years at the helm of sunderland.

Following the 15 point relegation in 2005/2006, Quinn, displaying atrocious judgement and pitiful naivety, installed himself as manager, overseeing consecutive defeats to Coventry, Birmingham, Plymouth, Southend and Bury; so much for the magic carpet ride he’d promised the fans. “More of a piss stained mattress” was the comment of one observer. However, in a rare display of humility, Quinn was required to step aside to allow Roy Keane to assume control and you could write a book on his period in charge; from kung fu kicking the tactics board at half time to sending an SMS saying “fuck you” to his assistant Dwight Yorke, the man’s time in charge was almost indescribably mad.

Meanwhile, Quinn concentrated on the kind of vacuous, populist gestures that appealed to the great unwashed; when a collection of drunken, foul-mouthed mackem yobs began terrorising the departure lounge at Bristol Airport, resulting in Easyjet staff cancelling the flight, Quinn stumped up taxis as a reward for unruly and unacceptable behaviour. This, to my mind, is the most shameful act of his time in football. 

That said, Keane’s departure in November 2008, following Ellis Short’s buyout of sunderland from the Drumaville Consortium, can only be seen as the beginning of the end for Quinn. Short is regularly described as a “reclusive Texan billionaire;” I’ve no idea if this is true or not, though it is clear that he’s not the kind of cute, glad-handing gobshite who’d be as likely to be found propping up the bar at a Fianna Fail fundraiser as appearing in the Directors’ Box in the Premier League. Consequently the names of Pat Beirne, Patsy Byrne, Charlie Chawke, Louis Fitzgerald, Paddy Kelly or Jack Tierney are no longer to be found on the SoS payroll; nor is Steve Bruce and neither is Niall Quinn now.

Quinn appears to have lost all credibility with Short when his promise of sell-out 48k crowds on the back of top flight football was shown to be false when Bruce’s side found a window of competence put them in the top half, while the ground remained a third empty at least. Short’s displeasure with Quinn’s empty words led to the infamous announcement by St. Niall that he despised a whole section of his club’s fanbase; comprising those who didn’t go to the games. This didn’t seem a wise thing to say bearing in mind the desperate, grinding poverty and chronic deprivation of almost all areas of the north east that are sunderland supporting.  Amazingly, or not when you consider the collective unconscious of the Wearside populace, they didn’t turn on him, but Short had seen through him. When Bruce was relieved of his duties, Quinn was already in the non-job of Director of Overseas Development; an ironic role considering the disappearance of the one overseas market safc had a toehold in following Keane’s decision to spend more quality time with his beloved dogs. It was obvious Quinn was the executive equivalent of Death Row when even he didn't speak up after the latest mackem fan outrage involved the trashing of a train and assaulting of rail staff as they headed to their kissing cousins in Smogland for a cup replay the other week.

If Steve Bruce had remained in charge, sunderland would probably be bottom 5 by now and there would have been little doubt that a side lead by him would succumb to a 3 goal defeat at St James’ Park in the upcoming derby.  However, Martin O’Neill is an excellent manager and has deservedly led his side to the last 8 of the FA Cup; I have to admit I fear that sunderland will win on March 4^th, possibly by 2-0. Their deep-lying defence and rapid counter attacking will prove a fascinating comparison to Newcastle’s pressing game. Obviously, I won’t be there as Arbroath v East Fife is a more alluring prospect.

That said, defeat to sunderland will not hurt so much now Niall Quinn has left; at least O’Neill is a student of the game and someone who commands respect. A famous perfectionist, I doubt his ascetic aesthetic will have had time for Quinn’s shiftless, loquacious, bibulous Blarney. O’Neill may well have given Short an ultimatum regarding Quinn and there was only ever going to be one loser in that instance. Possibly, in a footballing version of Brian Cowen’s fall from grace and power, the interest of HMRC in Glasgow Rangers and their financial dealings may have caused the twitch of a nervous trigger finger when the contents of the Drumaville era balance sheet of a club who were spending 83% of income on player wages were scrutinised.

Whatever happens between now and the end of the season, whether O’Neill is overseeing a new dawn or a false one, Niall Quinn’s ferry to Dun Laoghaire has sailed. He’ll not be missed; the 22k mackems who bothered to turn up for his last game (a 2-0 win over Arsenal in the 5th round of the cup), rather like the 26k who managed to show their faces in the game after the death of Bob Stokoe, a man who won them the cup (and got them relegated in 87) but had to have his funeral wake at St. James’ Park, show exactly why they were Quinn's sort of people.

Licensed To Thrill;

The 2012 Airtricity League is almost upon us; here are my thoughts......

Following on from my last blog about the Tyneside Amateur League, I contemplated getting even more obscure with an account of a pleasant Wednesday afternoon at the Red Hall Drive pitches in High Heaton, watching Division 3 of the Newcastle University Intra Mural League, with Jesmondinho 2 Dynamo Newcastle 3 on pitch 2 and the game I watched, Combined Honours 0 Politic Thistle 11 on the top pitch nearest the gate. However the standard was so rank, despite seeing my second successive game where one of the sides scored 11 goals, that I don’t think I can bear writing about it. Instead, we’ll turn our gaze westward to the Airtricity League of Ireland that is about to kick off its 2012 season, amidst the usual rancour, misinformation, rumour, counter rumour and general disinterest of the almost entire populace.

We last discussed the League of Ireland on here back in November, with Sligo Rovers having just beaten Shelbourne in the Cup Final and Champions Shamrock Rovers still having 3 Europa League games to go. They lost them all, and then lost their manager as Michael O’Neill bucked a historical trend by becoming the first manager of the Six Counties from the Nationalist community. I wonder how Billy Bingham reacted to that appointment; another tirade about mercenaries perhaps? Sligo Rovers have just lost their manager too, with former Wolves midfielder Paul Cook heading to Accrington Stanley, after turning down St. Johnstone just before Christmas, which says a lot about the perceived standard of the Scottish Premier League. That said, both teams are relatively stable and look likely to be the top two again this season; however, the main question with the League of Ireland, as ever, is just who the hell is going to be playing in it.

This time last year, Sporting Fingal threw in the towel, reprieving Drogheda and leaving the league with a 10 team top flight and an 11 team Division 1. Also, there were murmurings about licences with both Galway United and Limerick being initially denied one. It was all sorted out in the end and the 21 sides completed the programme, with the result that Galway United went down, while Cork, Shelbourne and Roddy Collins’ Monaghan all came up as the Premier Division expanded to 12 teams.  The amazing truth is that those same 12 teams all gained licences and so the Premier Division, from North to South, will be comprised of: Derry City, Sligo Rovers, Monaghan United, Dundalk, Drogheda United, Bohemians (still looking to vacate Dalymount Park and coming to terms with Pat Fenlon getting the Hibs job), Shelbourne, St. Patrick’s Athletic, UCD, Shamrock Rovers, Bray and Cork, who are really out on a geographical limb. So, 3 sides from the North West, 8 within an hour of O’Connell Street and 1 set of lads from de lovely banks of de Lee.

So, to Division 1; there were hopeful applications from Cobh Ramblers, who had just failed in the bid to replace Fingal the year before and the improbably named Tralee Dynamos, as well as a rumoured but eventually erroneously rumour that FC Carlow may take on Kilkenny City’s old pitch. Sadly both bids were unsuccessful and we must wait a while longer for the beautiful game at a senior standard to arrive at Cahermoneen. In all seriousness, as the division now consists of Waterford United, Limerick, Wexford Youths, Athlone Town, Longford Town, Mervue United, SD Galway and the isolated Finn Harps, there was a compelling case for increasing yet further the representation of teams from the South West, which has gone unheeded.

The one new name in that division is SD Galway; Newcastle fans need not worry that Ashley’s Sports Direct empire has extended to the city of the Tribes, as SD stands for Salthill Devon, who have abandoned the romantic environs of Drom Soccer pitch for the lovely Terryland Park and changed their name accordingly. This is not a merger; Galway United, under the aegis of Galway United Supporters Trust (GUST) have been excluded from the league for 2012, with the hope of returning in 2013, as per this statement which was issued on January 25th -:

At a well-attended open meeting in the Claddagh Hall, Galway last night the members of Galway United Supporters Trust (GUST) unanimously voted to continue to remain independent & to pursue their vision of a community based football club representing Galway City & County. As a result of this decision the proposals from both Salthill Devon & Mervue United in relation to any amalgamations were rejected.

Whilst obviously extremely disappointed with the FAI decision not to proceed with GUST’s Airtricity League licence application for 2012 all members remain fully committed to ensuring that their vision will become a reality in 2013. In the months ahead GUST will continue on-going dialogue with all interested parties throughout the community about the future of League of Ireland football in Galway.

We shall see if the west can awaken itself in 2013, but it would be a crying shame to see the end of senior football at Terryland Park. Sadly, Salthill, unlike the almost vibrant Mervue United, seem to be a glorified junior team without support or a community in which to base themselves. The thought of the bare terraces when Wexford Youths arrive is a depressing one. Ominously perhaps, my sources indicate that plans are being formulated for a 16 team Premier Division in 2013. While that would undoubtedly be good news for Limerick and Waterford, it could spell the end of Mervue, Wexford, Salthill and a start a desperate struggle between De 2 Towwwwwns and Harps for the other remaining promotion spots , unless of course somebody else folds in the meantime.

Anyway, the main positive point about the result of the Airtricity League Licencing committee deliberations, as published on February 13th, is that all 20 teams can go ahead with the forthcoming season and the fixtures are as published, meaning Friday March2nd is D-Day, with the first set of fixtures providing the following ties -:

Premier Division:

Derry City v Bohemians 

Drogheda United v Shamrock Rovers 

St. Patrick’s Athletic v Bray Wanderers 

U.C.D.   v Cork City 

Monaghan United v Dundalk 

Shelbourne v Sligo Rovers

First Division:

Athlone Town  v SD Galway  

 Limerick  v Finn Harps  

Mervue United v Longford Town

Wexford Youths v Waterford United

Obviously, I’ll be sat hunched over the laptop, updating my Twitter account (https://twitter.com/#!/PayasoDeMierda ) as soon as the goals go in, while preparing myself for my trip away to see Arbroath v East Fife the next day. Obviously I’ll be blogging about that. I’ll also be blogging about my next trip to Ireland, for the first weekend in June (booked so as to avoid the Royal Jubilee bollocks), with Shamrock Rovers v Cork City or the Louth Derby at Oriel Park on the Friday and the Leinster football quarter finals at Croker on Sunday, high on my agenda.  However, that is all for the future; in the present, the excitement that is the 2012 Setanta Cup has already started.

Despite an almost total lack of interest by anyone other than the fans of last year’s beaten finalists Dundalk, who lost to Shamrock Rovers and didn’t qualify for this year’s tournament, the new season’s competition has already started. There are 12 participants, 6 from each league. Eight teams play in the first round, which is two legged as ever. On Saturday 11th February Bray lost 4-2 at home to Glentoran and Derry won 4-0 away to Distillery in Lisburn. On Monday 13th February, Cliftonville beat St. Pat’s 1-0 and Bohemian enjoyed a 2-1 success over Portadown at a virtually deserted Dalymount Park. The second legs for all these ties will be on Monday 20th February, with the winners up against one of Shamrock Rovers, Sligo Rovers, Crusaders or Linfield, in more meaningless 2 legged ties on 5th and 20th March.  Don’t worry; I’ll keep you all abreast with developments.

Subterranean Groundhop News

There must come a point when any rational person can justifiably question my sanity in regards to the lengths I’ll go to watch football. Never mind the grassroots game; I’ve been involving myself with the subterranean ecosystem of local football of late.  Saturday 11th February 2012 may well prove to be my personal tipping point, as I voluntarily took in High Howdon Social Club v West Jesmond in Division 1 of the Tyneside Amateur League, watching the game on 4G astroturf at Burnside High School through two sets of fences from the adjoining cycle path at the very edge of Wallsend. To explain, the Tyneside Amateur League is one of 3 feeder leagues below the Northern Alliance Division 2; the other leagues being the Corinthian League and the North Northumberland League. Division 1 is a Step 14 league and Division 2 is a Step 15 league; it is a long way from the Premier.....

It had been a strange week for football; the cold snap that had caused a white-out the weekend before of all non-league football on the Saturday meant, after fruitless cycle journeys to North Shields Athletic v Wallsend Boys Club and Willington Quay Saints v Heddon, left me with no option but to watch Stoke v the mackems through the computer. It was football, but not as we know it; certainly it’s the only game I’ve ever seen involving a towel substitution, occasioned by Delap’s insistence on dry linen to help his gauche chucking.

While Newcastle’s victory over Villa on the Sunday had put me in a great mood (see last week’s blog), the chaotic events surrounding Redknapp’s acquittal, with the attendant nonsense on line from those who fail to grasp the concept of trial by jury as an essential cornerstone of the British judicial system, that saw him installed as the bookmakers’ favourite to replace Capello 8 hours before Capello quit, left me struggling to keep up with the pace of unfolding events. By tea time Capello, a surly and unapologetic xenophobe, had departed an England job he ought to have been relieved of after the 2010 World Cup disaster (I say that as an Ireland fan who’d support a Taleban XI against England). It is hard not to be cynical and assume that Capello had planned this exit strategy to avoid his CV including another major tournament disaster at Euro 2012. That said, he probably does think John Terry has been badly treated, but in terms of who takes England to a shabby exit in the group stages, that is almost coincidental. Obviously the press want Redknapp, so if he gets the gig, they’re happy, Harry’s happy and Capello, with a large pay-off, is happy too. The only problem is Stuart Pearce, with his self-confessed sin of racially abusing Paul Ince in 94 back in the public eye, is the current caretaker. That bodes well for attacking football doesn’t it?

Mind, the Capello and Redknapp pantomime did have the effect of deflecting attention from the conduct of the mackems on the train to Burragh for their cup replay, smashing up a carriage, putting a window through and assaulting 2 Network Rail workers. You reap what you sow; when Quinn indulged the idiots who ran amok in Bristol airport a few years back, with free taxis home and a carte blanche to act the chap in public, he set a dangerous, predictably populist precedent. It’s Martin O’Neill I feel sorry for; a decent, principled man, he may not have known what he was letting himself in for when taking over at that club.

Anyway, aside from the national team’s privations and regional rampaging, there was also the latest outpouring from Suarez and Dalglish. Regardless of Sunday’s apology, in which Suarez doesn’t show anything resembling contrition for his actions towards Evra, Liverpool have plumbed even further depths by not suspending and transfer listing Suarez. I don’t think I’m the only person who felt a rush of pride and elation seeing Evra milking the applause at Old Trafford at full time. Fair play to him; I just wish he’d tried to shake Suarez’s hand at full time!

Obviously, the Old Trafford events were taking place as I cycled to Burnside. Having had my over 40s game called off on Friday night, the Percy Main trip to Murton on Saturday morning and nearly all other games by lunch time, the only hopes I had for live football were North Shields Town v Lindisfarne Athletic in the Tyneside Amateur League Shield at Heaton Terrace, or the High Howdon game. My preference was for North Shields Town as they are run by a former student of mine, but Tony tweeted me at 1 to say the referee had called the game off, leaving only the High Howdon v West Jesmond fixture.

Any sensible person may well have opted for the mackems v Arsenal via the net or in the pub as part of a 3 game bender with Spurs versus Newcastle later on, or even a watching brief via RTE as the Irish football season began with the opening round of the 2012 Setanta Cup first leg games (Bray 2 Glentoran 4 and Distillery 0 Derry 4 incidentally), but there’ll be plenty more of that later on when I get in to my stride with the Airtricity League starting on March 2nd. Consequently, it had to be High Howdon against West Jesmond, especially after the Tyneside Amateur League press officer had tweeted me an invite.

I wrapped up warm and cycled down there, arriving at 2.55, just as a training game between Morpeth Town and Blyth Spartans, which ended up as either 1-7 or 0-9 depending on who you asked, had finished. The assembled crowd for the main events, not including substitutes and club officials was 16, though several dog walkers, cyclists, shoppers and so on came wandering past, including at one point Mick Tait, the former Hartlepool legend and most recently Blyth Spartans manager, who had been at Gateshead versus bath City, when it was called off 20 minutes before kick-off. However, I mainly spent my time in the company of Paul Mosley, a local referee and the aforementioned Tyneside Amateur League Press Officer. What a sound young gentleman he is as well!!

As regards the game, well second placed West Jesmond looked 3 inches taller and 5 years older on average than High Howdon and simply destroyed the opposition. They needed a good win, as their rivals at the top Walker Central Reserves had won the only other game to take place that day, 7-1 against Grainger Park Boys Club at Newburn Leisure Centre, though such a score line was positively modest compared to what we saw. Here’s how I called it on Twitter -:

- No score yet, but Jesmond on top
- As I say that West Jesmond go 1-0 up with a delightful finish
- 1-1. West Jesmond keeper embarrassed at his near post
- High Howdon 1 West Jesmond 2. Great strike from 25 yards
- Pelanty! West Jesmond lead 3-1

- Horrific defending. West Jesmond 4-1 up
- 1-5. Looking forward to the match report in Whitley Grauniad by @posley88
- 1-6. Horrible own goal
- 1-7. Jesus! I would have saved that one. In fact my nana would & she's been dead since 87
- 2-7. Even worse keeping
- 2-8 with 15 to go
- 2-9 now. Make that 2-10
- 2-11
- Full time High Howdon 2 West Jesmond 11. I'm frozen

It was 1-4 at half time and became a total rout as time more on. Mind the West Jesmond keeper made two appalling ricks to concede the goals Howdon scored. The game ended at 16.48, requiring me to bomb it down to the Coast on the bike to watch the Spurs v Newcastle game in the Stuffed Dog in Tynemouth; I was only partially successful as it was 3-0 by the time I turned up, but at least I did show up, unlike NUFC’s defence and midfield. Still, fair play to Pardew; he certainly managed to rule himself out of the England reckoning with this display!

Geordies Are Black & White

It has been a week since I blogged about the current problems caused to racism in football. I have to say it’s not been a good one: for a start, John Terry’s trial has been scheduled for July. The delay in court proceedings and subsequent failure of the FA to suspend him until the allegations were investigated has enabled him to play on until the end of the season. Without prejudging the issue, I wonder in what other job someone facing similar accusations would be allowed to go about their business unhindered for such a length of time. To paraphrase Kurt Weill, it’s a long time from October to the summer. At least there will be a trial; the usual amount of heat rather than light that was caused by the sage of Loftus Road on Twitter has thankfully not been deemed contempt of court by the Attorney General, though presumably only on the technicality that Terry’s case will be heard in a Magistrates’ Court and not a Crown Court. Terry’s brief will consequently not be able to claim that a jury have been influenced by Barton’s scattergun ramblings.

Suarez returned to the Liverpool team on Monday night and announced his presence by hoofing the joint greatest player in the history of the world, with Gareth Bale of course, the saintly Scott Parker, right in the breadbasket. Falling short of claiming that such a gesture is the correct way of introducing yourself to an old friend in Montevideo, Dalglish gave a surly, small-minded post-match interview that proved Liverpool still have not addressed the issue of Suarez’s guilt and wrongdoing by claiming that the player should never have been banned in the first place. Before the Anfield hierarchy adopt an inflexible and permanent stance that Suarez has been as much a victim of a miscarriage of justice as Timothy John Evans or Gerry Conlon, they may decide to look at a magnificent article in the latest issue of “When Saturday Comes” (March 2012), when Janice Allen-Brade, a black female living on Merseyside, interviews black Liverpool fans.

Those interviewed, including Ronnie Doforo, Phil Boyle and Jeff Wiltshire, speak eloquently and persuasively of how they feel that the club they have followed all their lives (for almost 50 years in Doforo’s case) have dealt terribly with the whole incident, from Suarez’s final admission of the words uttered, to the hideous t-shirt gesture, to the ungracious acceptance of the ban. All 3 of them feel as if they have been badly “let down” by their club. Perhaps someone can bring this article to the attention of Liverpool FC in advance of Saturday’s latest potential powder keg fixture against Manchester United.

Elsewhere, 3 sunderland fans have admitted to separate instances of racial abuse towards Newcastle United players (namely the Ameobi brothers) on Twitter; two, stupid, irresponsible teenagers have been given Final Warnings, which are the youth equivalents of Cautions, while a third adult, who depressingly trotted out  the “banter” line of mitigation even in court, is awaiting sentencing. I’m not disingenuously about to claim that the lack of outright condemnation by their club, fans’ organisations or publications indicates a level of tacit support for these ignorant fools, but public distancing and an apology for any upset would have been nice.  If I’ve missed such a gesture, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I have. It is even more poignant that such behaviour is becoming prevalent in the North East, or at least certain parts of it, when Show Racism the Red Card announced they are in danger of going under as direct funding has been withdrawn, precisely at the time when their influence and decisive interventions are needed more than ever.

Also, following last Saturday’s game at Home Park, Plymouth Argyle are investigating claims of racism by their fans towards Southend United players. While, rugby union has also had its own scandal, with the appalling story of the RFU’s handling of an incident in the Telford v Market Drayton Midlands 4 West North game on January 28^th. A disciplinary hearing has found Telford’s centre Martin Rudd guilty of racially abusing an opponent. In banning him for 18 weeks until June 2^nd, the chair of the panel Sean Enright stated -; “Racism has no part in the game. We are utterly determined to stamp it out when it appears.”

All well and good, but further investigation shows that Market Drayton have been deducted 20 points for walking off in the original game when the referee refused to send Rudd off for his comments. That is absolutely sickening; it recalls the kind of blinkered, ignorant, insensitive, tacit support for racism and apartheid that those going on rebel cricket tours to South Africa after the Gleneagles Agreement justified, by endlessly repeating the nonsensical mantra that they wished to “keep politics out of sport.” I truly hope Market Drayton decide to appeal.

Where do we look for good news? Almost inconceivably, the answer is St. James’ Park. Sunday’s 2-1 victory over Aston Villa wasn’t the best of games. Indeed for the first 15 minutes, a surprisingly adequate Villa side caused Newcastle no end of problems, but the points were secured in the end with a magnificent left footed blast from Papiss Cisse that reminded me so much of Shearer’s second in the 1999 FA Cup semi-final victory over Spurs.

However, it wasn’t just the result that mattered; it was the whole ambience of the day. The giant Irish tricolour in the East Stand Leazes Paddock emblazoned with “Welcome Home Shay” was a wonderful touch and a slap in the face to the faceless message board cyber toughs who’d spent the period leading up to the game spitting bile through their keyboards about the finest man ever to represent the club in the time I’ve followed them. I’m not just saying that for effect; morally and temperamentally, Shay Given is the most praiseworthy person ever to have played for Newcastle United. Both before kick-off and at full time, you could tell he bitterly regrets leaving, though it has to be said, if he were still at SJP, he’d be on the bench behind Tim Krul.

What else was wonderful about Sunday was the increasing evidence of Newcastle’s support in the ground growing among the black population of Tyneside. Sure having Senegal’s strike force helps, but it makes my heart sing to see appreciable parts of the crowd taking on a more representative racial demographic of the city as a whole. This did not happen 20 years ago and has to be a brilliant development, as well as a spontaneous and beneficial one. Black supporters would not return to SJP in ever increasing numbers, unless they felt comfortable and acceptable in the ground. When Demba Ba put us ahead and came to celebrate at the Milburn Leazes corner with Cisse and when Cisse himself grabbed the winner, all the fans in the ground (including about a dozen of those I could see in the immediate area waving Senegalese flags) were united in their love of the moment, the players and the club.

What can I say? Geordies are Black & White – FACT!!!

A third wasted lungful....

With temperatures set to fall to -5 and heavy snow forecast for mid afternoon, Percy Main Amateurs v Harraby Catholic Club was postponed for the second time on Friday 3rd February, to save the visitors from a fruitless journey over from Cumbria. So, this leaves an unused pair of programme articles to be sent out in to cyber space for your perusal. Enjoy!

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. There   is no doubt that if the game had been played on its scheduled date, back on December 17th, we would have had several extra guests at our club Christmas do at the Tap & Spile, as our esteemed Cumbrian visitors know how to drink a sup.

Last week, we played our third successive home game and after back to back wins, 3-1 over Blyth Town on January 7th and 2-1 over Murton a fortnight ago, it was something of a disappointment not to take maximum points against Rutherford, especially as we’d come out on top in our previous six encounters with the Lobley Hill based club. That said, it was crucial we didn’t lose, so a 1-1 draw represents solid progress; it keeps us in 11 points, 10 points above the relegation spots with 10 games to go. Complacency, as ever, is the enemy, so I’ll take nothing for granted and hope the boys can do the business on the pitch against a visiting side who’ll be smarting from a 4-2 defeat at Hebburn Reyrolle last time out.

Harraby are a class side and have twice beaten us over in Cumbria this term; 1-0 in the Challenge Cup in November and 3-0 in the League encounter in early December. However, hope must spring eternal and we can take solace from the fact that the Main 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, Percy Main are on their travels for the next three weeks at least. Next week, we face Murton away, where we lost 2-1 on Easter Monday 2011. On February 18th, we face a daunting trip to Amberley Park against Killingworth Sporting and the month ends with a rapid rematch with Rutherford at their Beggarswood ground. All games kick off at 2pm, providing the weather doesn’t interfere.  You can keep in touch with club developments by checking our website; all our cyber activity can be found at www.percymainafc.co.uk  with the site being added to and developed all the time. Peter Bainbridge is doing a sterling job to upload videos of Pierre Luc Coiffait practising his gargantuan throws, while Geoff is publishing Tim Grimshaw’s action shots of the game quicker than The Pink used to hit the streets!

The website also gives details of the big fund raising innovation for 2012 is the NEW Percy Main Bingo Lottery, which is being overseen by Geoff. It’s very easy to get involved; just pick 6 numbers between 1 and 49, then choose how many weeks you wish to participate, cost of £1 per week for each set of 6 numbers, then see Geoff to pay your stake and get a lottery ticket in return, or email him at geoff@cinix.co.uk

Enjoy the game!!

Around The Grounds:

The participants in the semi-finals of the George Dobbins League Cup are now known. It had already emerged  that Whitley Bay A would host Seaton Delaval Amateurs in one tie, while the two remaining quarter finals were played last Saturday. In the first of these, form and status held sway as Ashington Colliers prevailed over first division Heddon by the clear margin of 5-1, though the other threw up something of a surprise, as Wallington travelled to Premier Division Stocksfield and won 3-1 after extra time. The two victors will meet at Hirst Welfare for a place in the final on the 25^th.

While there was an abbreviated programme in the Premier Division last Saturday, the floodlights at Hillheads had been used to good effect the Wednesday previous, allowing Whitley Bay A to take on Ponteland United and the home side were run close, though they still emerged 3-2 victors, leaving champions Ponteland still in the bottom 2 with 10 games remaining. The only side below them are Murton, who lost 3-2 at Blyth Town, who put recent poor form behind them to move up to 9^th spot. Apart from our 1-1 draw with Rutherford, that left both teams unmoved in 11^th and 14^th places respectively, the only other game to take place saw Hebburn Reyrolle earn an eye-catching 4-2 home win over previously on-form Harraby Catholic Club, our visitors today of course, with the result that Hebburn stand  8^th and Harraby 4^th.

Division 1 saw 4 games played; with leaders Amble United inactive, second-top Wallsend Town cut the gap to 7 points, with a 3-2 win at Cramlington Town, who have recently signed Mickey Haley and remained becalmed in 6^th spot. Gosforth Bohemians stay 5^th, after missing out on the chance to move above otherwise occupied Wallington and Heddon, when they were held 2-2 at Benson Park by bottom of the league Forest Hall. The 4 sides above Forest Hall remain exactly where they were after playing out a brace of 1-1 draws; second bottom Chemfica held 7^th place Cullercoats, while 9^th cancelled out 8^th as Morpeth Sporting matched Newcastle University. One thing that will soon come in to play in this division is the number of games remaining; with only 11 teams involved, time will start to run out for those at the bottom if they don’t put a run together soon.

There were 5 games in Division 2; Red House Farm march on 16 points clear at the top after a 4-2 win at New Fordley who are 9^th. The two immediately behind the Gosforth outfit continue to wobble, both losing at home. Wallsend Boys club stay 2^nd, despite succumbing 3-2 to 4^th bottom Swalwell, while Harton & Westoe are 3^rd, after a 3-1 reverse to 11^th placed visitors Whickham Lang Jacks. Elsewhere, in the old Great North Road derby at Lockey Park, 14^th placed Seaton Burn are to be commended for holding 6^th top hosts Wideopen to a 2-2 draw, while Willington Quay Saints drop to 2^nd bottom after a 2-0 home loss to Alston, who move up to  7^th.

In the Northern League Division 1, Benfield had a day off to lick their wounds after their game at Tow Law was called off, while Whitley Bay squeaked home 2-1 over Penrith with a 90^th minute Paul Chow winner. In Division 2, leaders Team Northumbria’s home game with Easington Colliery went to form and more, with the students winning 14-0 at Coach Lane. However, it appears Easington will resign from the league with immediate effect, causing a recalculation of the table. At present TN are 12 points clear. Behind them, West Allotment move back up to 4^th, after a hard-fought 3-2 win over Alnwick Town, while North Shields dropped to 5^th after losing 2-1 away at Washington.  In the Conference, Gateshead unbelievably lost 3-2 at home to Newport County after being 2-1 up entering injury time and Blyth Spartans trip to Droylesden was postponed for a waterlogged pitch.

Nil By Mouth

The transfer window did not slam shut at 11pm on Tuesday 31^st January 2012; it closed with a barely discernible muffled thud that was only noticed by those who work in the media or live their lives on social networking communities, with their acutely tuned ears and psychological need to inflate trivial banality to an undeserved level of pompous import. In the real world, there were no Spurs fans performing Jan Palach style auto-immolations following the return of Steven Pienaar to Goodison Park, while Bobby Zamora’s sedate procession up the Fulham Palace Road to Hammersmith and thence via the Uxbridge Road to QPR was not accompanied by a New Orleans style jazz funeral of weeping Cottagers. Though it has to be said that followers of Newcastle United breathed a sigh of relief at the continued presence of the quality quintet (Krul, Coloccini, Tiote, Cabaye and Ba) on Tyneside; the scars of the previous year’s departure of Carroll have left an imprint of distrust regarding the final day of the first month that not even the arrival Papiss Cisse can fully eradicate.

Anyway, we were entitled to be in high dudgeon about something else; namely  the nonsensical ban meted out to Yohan Cabaye on account of the fact he has “tautened facial muscles” (thank you John Champion) in the game against Brighton, where’s the Dreamboat’s guilt was presumed as Gus Poyet received an SMS from a friend confirming it. These days trial by television is not enough; ESPN insist on trial by text.

After a quiet January, it is time for football to face again the most significant aspect of this season; the repulsive, hateful spectre of racism that has moved from haunting to polluting the game. Sadly, from the events witnessed on and off the field in 2011/2012, I don’t feel I am engaging in wild exaggeration or unhelpful scaremongering. Football is a mirror of society and when we gaze in to it, we are currently confronted by the bloated, leering expression of the inadequate bully in the England shirt, whose weak mouth is dripping Carling-fumed oaths of unspeakable xenophobia and race hate.  The truly tragic side to this is that the moron screaming abuse is not simply the testosterone-fuelled cretin in the ground or the pub, but is just as likely to be a player and that is plain appalling.

As I write this, news breaks that John Terry has denied the charge of a racially motivated public order offence that was brought against him following clearly identifiable words spoken to Anton Ferdinand in the QPR versus Chelsea Premier League game back in October. The cornerstone of British justice is the concept of being innocent until proven guilty, with the onus on the prosecution to demonstrate that the accused has, “beyond all reasonable doubt,”  committed the crime of which they have been charged. In addition, as the case is sub judice, any speculation as to innocence or guilt could prejudice a trial, so I am unable to comment on the case further. For the same reason, presumably, the FA has taken a step back from concluding the Terry case, as they do not wish to be seen to be pre-judging the issue with an on-going criminal case to be considered. This is, I feel, right and proper.  Obviously the fact Terry is free to play for both Chelsea and England until such time as the case comes to Crown Court (early July I believe) is a purely coincidental boon for the Blues in the Premier League and the other countries who’ve qualified for Euro 2012.

However, there is one case that has run its course; the squalid tale of Luis Suarez and his abuse of Patrice Evra. Whatever linguistic and cultural nuances Liverpool sought to ascribe to their player’s comments, it is plain from the judgement issued from the FA (and I read the whole damning document) that Suarez deliberately meant to cause offence by using Evra’s colour as a term of abuse; that is racism, plain and simple and Liverpool FC (unlike Chelsea whose coded response to the Terry charge did not lay them open to charges of rampant paranoia or blind protectionism) took themselves in to the gutter with their defences of him. From the contradictory and rapidly changing accounts of Damien Comolli and Dirk Kuyt as to what they believed Suarez had said, to the ill-judged, calculatingly offensive and totally unnecessary pro Suarez tee-shirts the squad wore at Wigan, to Dalglish’s confrontational, stubborn and disingenuous press conferences on the matter, to the fucking moron making monkey gestures at the 4^th round FA Cup tie against Manchester United, the whole episode brought the entire history of that club in to disrepute. Until such time as Liverpool FC issue a full and frank apology for the disgraceful conduct of their player, their manager and a section of their fans (don’t forget the abuse meted out to Tom Adeyemi in the 3^rd round FA Cup tie at Anfield), I will hold them in absolute contempt.

The fact that certain players, who spend their entire careers mixing with a vast array of nationalities on a daily basis, feel that they can somehow descend to bestial levels of abuse towards fellow players in opposition shirts, using the Blatter defence of heat of the moment banter, is simply not on. You don’t need to look at multi-millionaire superstars to see the effect racism is having on the game, as twice this season I have witnessed the effects of racist abuse in the non-league game.

On Monday 2^nd January, I watched Benfield, the only team in the Northern League with a black manager in Alusene Bangura it has to be remembered, lose 3-2 at home to Guisborough Town; as a Benfield fan I should have been deeply disappointed by such a poor result, but that lost importance after it emerged that Benfield’s Jordan Larty had been racially abused by a Guisborough Town player. The only other time I’ve heard any racism at a Northern League game was a Shildon fan at Benfield in December 2003; I told him to shut his ignorant mouth, which he did. I didn’t need to report him to a club official, as a Shildon committee member told him to clear off out the ground, which he did. Sadly, Guisborough weren’t of the same stamp as Shildon; initially they denied the offence, which has now gone to the North Yorkshire FA as, somewhat unbelievably, Sky TV were filming the game for their new regional sports website which is due to go live any time soon. Also, at the game, several Benfield fans became vociferous in their complaints; I don’t know this to be a fact, but Benfield in having black fans (the club draws support from the widely racially mixed areas in the Byker to Wallsend environs) may be unique to the Northern League. A Guisborough official at this game seemed to regard these outraged fans as being as bad as his team’s player because of their use of “bad language.” Such simpering inadequate ignorance disgusts me.

During the game, Larty brushed off the abuse and got on with the game; I admire him for that. Far more upsetting was an incident I saw, but did not hear, in a game between Percy Main and Carlisle City in November. Playing centre half for us that day was Aristote Diamos, a young lad who has moved up from South London to attend university here and signed for us as he wanted to play football beyond the social standard of the intramural Corinthian League. He wasn’t brilliant, but he tried his best. Sadly, he’s no longer with us. That day versus Carlisle, an opposition player said something to him, something so offensive that it resulted in Aris being booked for his reaction. An altercation on the far touchline, in front of the linesman, led to Aris breaking away and screaming in a Carlisle player’s face. Almost in tears, Aris exclaimed, “what did you say? What did you call me? You can’t say that! That’s out of order man! You need to apologise!”  Despite this outburst, the linesman claimed he’d heard nothing and a visibly upset Aris was yellow carded. At full time he sought to play down the incident and wouldn’t make a statement, though without the corroboration of the officials, nothing would come of it anyway. A few weeks later, Aris left the club. I don’t know if that incident caused his departure, but it can’t have helped. This, to me, is the saddest aspect of all the disgusting incidents of racism that have taken place this season and further evidence why players need to show responsibility for their actions.

I’m not asking players to be paragons of virtue or to be moral guardians on or off the pitch, I am simply asking them to be civilised, decent human beings. I want them to look around the dressing room at the people they see next to them, their team mates, and to recognise they have a basic human responsibility to show respect. If the players can’t behave decently, then why can we expect fans to do so? That isn’t to say that football fans are morons or simple minded fools unable to make their own judgements about what is acceptable and what is unacceptable behaviour. Obviously, the overwhelming majority of fans, as well as players, find racism unacceptable; unlike the 70s and 80s, widespread racist chanting has died out, or so we had thought.

I’m undecided whether the Terry and Suarez incidents caused fans of Liverpool (in the two FA Cup ties already mentioned) and Chelsea (away to Genk in the Champions’ League and at Norwich in the Premier League where chants about Anton Ferdinand were prevalent) to behave in the way they did because they wanted to show support for their team’s player or whether the FA charges uncorked the bottle of race hate, somehow legitimising such behaviour in the minds of participants. We simply can’t know what people are thinking and in many ways it is impossible to change that, if those who are racist refuse to engage in rational debate (though Trotsky’s point that we should acquaint their heads with the pavement has a compelling logical force behind it). However, what can be enforced is a zero tolerance policy as regards what people say in the ground.

I’m implacably against racism, as I believe is everyone who is worthy of the description civilised human being, but I’m against the causes of racism as well; capitalism causes the conditions whereby racism is seen as either acceptable or even justifiable. I know removing the current political apparatus may take a bit of work; in the meantime, I simply want racists to shut their mouths and think just how disgusting and offensive their conduct is. This is not “woolly-minded PC bollocks,” as the charges against Suarez and Ferdinand were referred to on one on-line Newcastle forum; this is a recognition that, 19 years after his murderers were finally brought to justice, it wasn’t Political Correctness that killed Stephen Lawrence, it was racism. We must stamp it out.