Record Score Day

Last Saturday didn’t start off that brilliantly, to be fair. For a start, I managed to leave my keys in the house. Once I’d realised I’d been so remiss in my duties as a father as to do this, I phoned my ever so helpful 16 year old son, who’d been comatose in his pit when I headed out. Unfortunately he was unable to help solve my predicament by either meeting up to lend me his keys, or rendezvousing back at the house any time before 6pm as he was “out” and therefore “busy” with his mates, meaning there was “no way” he could possibly “waste” his valuable leisure time by helping out a “moron” like me, especially as I’d been a “daft twat” for forgetting the keys in the first place. In the words of Philip Larking; “useful to get that learnt.”

To add insult to injury, a last minute goal for Marsden Inn Veterans cost Heaton Winstons a valuable victory in Division 4 of the Over 40s League; I’d called the ball as mine when our left back needlessly nodded it out for a corner, then watched in horror as the guilty man left the player who he was supposedly marking; needlessly to say the unguarded attacker stooped to stab home at the near post. I was desolate. I was incandescent.

To prove that trouble does form part of a power trio of despair, Percy Main’s home game with Harraby Catholic Club had bitten the mud for the third time this season. Four days of incessant rain, even if Saturday was sunny and pleasantly warm, meant that the Purvis Park impromptu outdoor swimming pool precluded football being played that day. Thankfully, a text from a mate saved the day; my frankly nauseating last minute begging saw the offer of an East Stand ticket for £30, meaning I’d be able to complete my personal tour of SJP for the season, for the first time ever (I think).

Things got even better when I arrived in town. A quick pint of Jarrow Brewery’s immensely palatable 4.0% Rivet Catcher (A light, smooth, satisfying gold bitter;  subtle fruity hops give the taste profile on tongue and nose, according to their website) in the Duke of Wellington put the world back on an even keel. For some reason, High Bridge was the equivalent of Bourbon Street crossed with Notting Hill in late August. Street traders flogging plates of spicy soul food, sound systems pumping anti populist dubstep and grime, happy kids and their relaxed parents milling around a makeshift stage outside the Old George told me this was Record Store Day; a superb celebration of all that is independent and good about the music scene worldwide.

In Newcastle, this meant that Reflex Records on Nunn Street was my prime destination. If the weather had been clement, I’d not have visited Record Store Day at all; Percy Main may boast the world’s best football team, but it’s decidedly light on quality vinyl emporia. My plan had involved sending the world’s best looking groundhopper Shaun Smith to do my shopping for me. In the event, I was able to nab a copy of the Wedding Present clear vinyl 10” Quatre Chansons, boasting 4 French language versions of songs on the new album Valentina and very fine it is too. Sadly, I was unable to locate the exclusive 7” single by The Fall, so if anyone has a spare copy, I know someone who is interested.

The main point of Record Store Day, apart from celebrating the diversity of the independent, is to open your ears to something new, which I did in the shape of purchasing Harmony Springs, the debut album by the brilliant Snowgoose. Another band from the seemingly bottomless pool of brilliant Glasgow talent, including both David McGowan and Raymond McGinley from the best band in the world, Teenage Fanclub, Snowgoose are the Pentangle to the Fairport Convention of Trembling Bells, with Anna Sheard boasting as fine a voice as Lavinia Blackwall. What is even better, Snowgoose played a short acoustic set in Reflex. From the opening bars of track 1 side 1 Crawl Out Your Window, I was mesmerised. This is acoustic contemporary pop with a forceful nod to 70s Folk Rock par excellence; you can read more when my next music blog (with an emphasis on album rather than live reviews) is uploaded by the end of next month.

By 2.20 it was over and I made my way to the Bodega for a celebratory Consett 4.0% White Hot (A refreshing, straw coloured ale) and a ticket transaction, before I made my eleventh trip to St James’ Park this season, for what turned out to be the easiest victory I’d seen in the top flight since the early days of Keegan’s final return in 2008, when Reading and Fulham were dismissed 3-0 and 2-0 respectively. However, it wasn’t just the ease of the victory, but the chastening experience of a seat in the sepulchral, hushed pews of the East Stand that enabled me to refrain from a single profanity in the whole 2 hours I spent in the ground. Well, you just wouldn’t cuss and swear with the percentage of Trappist pensioners nudging towards the majority in the top tier near me. Actually, I enjoyed the refreshing lack of intensity immensely; sunshine football on a rainy afternoon.

But what a glorious view of it all I had; far better than either the Stoke defence or Alan Pardew it has to be said. Without the distractions of singing, chanting or any form of social interaction, I was able to focus on the marvellous performance turned in by Yohan Cabaye; his darting then checking before darting again to head in Cisse’s effort that had struck the bar after Ben Arfa had produced another gold medal Oscar winner of a cross. I was forced to concentrate on returning my breathing to normal after almost hyperventilating at the run of Cisse and equally astonishing pass by Cabaye for the second. The entire ground, even the silent onlookers in my mute corner, rose to acclaim just how good a team Newcastle United have become. With less than 20 minutes gone, the game had been won, by a side who are as good as we’ve seen since Sir Bobby Robson’s young stars emerged from mid table obscurity to seize a Champions’ League spot in 2001/2002. Will history repeat itself? I desperately hope so as I teach Thursday nights and would miss all the Europa League fun.

The second half of this easy win reminded me so much of the games in the latter part of the promotion season (was it really only 2 years ago?), when the team squandered dozens of scoring opportunities, in trying to give Leon Best a chance to get off the mark. This time Demba Ba, looking a million times sharper and happier than of late, was the recipient of charitable acts that didn’t quite come off. No doubt sick of such misguided compassion, Cabaye curled as beautiful a finish in to the Gallowgate goal as you could wish to see, before departing, job done, after an hour. The temperature dropped and incessant sheets of rain drenched the ground, but 52,000 of us basked in the warm glow of the privilege engendered by watching one of the best sides in the country; Newcastle United are a team worth watching.

Sadly, stuck without keys, I headed home to High Heaton for my 6pm key exchange meeting with a contemptuous teen and 2 desultory bitter pints of bad Guinness in The Newton, rather than a skinful of real ale at the annual CAMRA beer festival, while watching the hated fascists win El Clasico in the company of 200 hundred boorish, pissed youths I did not know, rather than 500 middle aged beer bores. Still, you can’t have everything; at 9.15 on Saturday morning, I had precisely nothing to look forward to that day other than hunting for a front door key, so I suppose things turned out right.

5 Taken Breaths

So last week's monsoons meant Percy Main v Harraby was called off for the third time this season; here's my programme articles then -:

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, which is our final home game of the season. 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 first 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. The game between the two sides was also called off on February 3rd because of snow and ice; the way the weather has been since Easter, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s off again today!!

Last week, the Main were inactive, with our last game being the 2-1 friendly win over Chemfica on April 7th. However, results elsewhere mean that our safety in the alliance top flight has been mathematically assured; I’d like to pay tribute to Beanie and all the lads for a magnificent post-Christmas shift to ensure this is the case. We currently sit in 11th place in the table; let’s try and get as high as we can in the 3 remaining games. Harraby are a class side and remain on the edfge of the title race in 5th place, with 3 games in hand on the leading pack. The Cumbrians have twice beaten us at their place 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 last two games; at Hebburn Reyrolle on Wednesday 25th April at 6.15 and in already relegated Murton’s final Northern Alliance game on Saturday May 5th, kick off 2.30.However, there is one more important game to be held at Purvis Park on Saturday 19th May, when Tony Browell’s astonishing achievement of 500 appearances for the Main is marked by a benefit game against a team of former Main players. Please come along and support one of the club’s greatest ever servants. Afterwards, there will be snacks and a few beers in The Victoria on Tynemouth Road.

Another date for the diary is the end of season awards presentation and race night, which is being held in the (formerly Old) Hundred on Saturday 9th June, which is the 150th anniversary of the Blaydon Races, fittingly enough. You can find out more about all events and keep in touch with club developments by checking our website www.percymainafc.co.uk

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:

Well, the Alliance Premier Division title race is still wide open, with 5 potential winners all vying for prominence.  At the time of writing, Whitley Bay A are top, following their 4-2 home win over 10^th placed Blyth Town. A point behind with a game in hand, are Heaton Stann, who won 5-1 at second bottom Ponteland, which made us mathematically safe from relegation. Carlisle City, without a game last Saturday, lie third, three points behind, while a point behind them, with 2 games in hand on the leaders, are Hebburn Reyrolle, 3-0 winners over a Murton side condemned to finish bottom. In fifth are today’s visitors Harraby, 8 points adrift with 2 games in hand, after a 1-1 draw at 7^th placed Ashington Colliers. With Shankhouse, Killingworth and Seaton Delaval, in places 6, 8 and 9, also not kicking a ball, the focus of the other game was on relegation. Third bottom Walker Central were fixture free, while 12^th place Rutherford now only need a point to be safe after winning 3-1 at a Stocksfield side they leapfrogged with that result.

In Division 1, the only game played saw Heddon in 4^th beat Minor Cup finalists Chemfica in 9^th, 3-2. Below them Forest Hall in last place look doomed, but Morpeth Sporting Club still have a chance to escape. Amble United, needing a win to claim the title, and Wallsend Town have sown up the top 2 spots from gallant 3^rd placed Bohemians. In the Subsidiary Cup, either Gosforth Bohs or Newcastle University will win Group B and Amble will win Group A if the other Minor Cup finalists Wallington drop a point. Cramlington Town’s season ended with a 7^th place finish 3 weeks ago!

Division 2 may see up to 5 sides promoted to fill up the vacancies in Division 1, as there are reputedly up to 11 clubs interested in entering the Alliance’s bottom tier. Red House Farm still aren’t champions, after losing 5-3 at home to 8^th top Whickham Lang Jacks. Hexham, in second, are chasing hard after beating 10^th placed North Shields Athletic 2-0. Northbank went third after a 5-0 clouting of last placed Cramlington United; after that game, their goal difference is 2 better than Harton & Westoe, who won 3-1 against Willington Quay Saints, who stay 13^th. Wallsend Boys Club in 5^th were inactive, using goal difference to stay above Bedlington Terriers Reserves who lost by a single goal at home to 7^th placed New Fordley. The other games saw 11^th placed Alston lose 4-2 at home to Wideopen, who are 9^th and second bottom Swalwell lose 4-1 at home to third bottom Seaton Burn.

In the Northern League, Team Northumbria gained promotion to Division 1 by beating Seaham Red Star 2-0; they were playing Newcastle Reserves in the sSenior Cup Final at St. James’ Park this week; good luck to them.  North Shields, now managed by Graham Fenton, and West Allotment Celtic are 7^th and 8^th respectively after 2-2 draws away to Northallerton and home to Crook Town. In the top division, Whitley Bay seem likely to finish 6^th, after winning 2-0 away to Billingham Town, while Benfield stay in 12^th after they drew 1-1 at South Shields, whose goal was scored by our very own Tony Burnell.

Elsewhere, Gateshead, whose manager Ian Bogie is the uncle of Tijan and Aaron Kah I learned last week, are still in with an outside shout of a play-off spot after beating Forest Green Rovers 1-0. Sadly Blyth Spartans, 1-0 losers at home to Hyde United, have been relegated for the first time in the club’s history. Here’s hoping they can turn it around next year.

On-Line Gaming

Following on from my blog about the Smogs a couple of weeks back, the Teesside Cyber Civil War has really got underway, following their 0-0 draw with already relegated Doncaster Rovers last night. Just to put things in context, Middlesbrough had won 1-0 at Derby on Saturday, to sit in 7^th spot in the table, 1 place and 2 points outside of the play-offs, with 3 games to go; for this crucial game, they managed to attract a crowd of 14,967. To me this is scarcely credible (though we must remember Burragh are a club who once attracted 3,185 to a first team game in this this century); not only is it is an appalling total for any club aspiring to be promoted, it also 30,000 less than Newcastle averaged during our Championship year of rebirth and regrowth in 2009/2010. Yes; 30,000 less.  It’ll be interesting to listen to the 3 Has Beens  phone in on Century tonight, where no doubt the repeated mantra will be along the lines of; Allough Bearny, ut’s Malkum frum Stocktun, Bearny. Hai ave ter seh, Bearny, thut Mogguh’s gorra geow Bearny. Actually, it won’t be interesting; it’ll be akin to pointing fingers and laughing at the inmates of the Bethlehem Asylum in the late 18^th Century.

For years I’ve always felt the main philosophical difference between Newcastle and Middlesbrough supporters is that we are blind, incurable optimists, while they are gloomy, sullen pessimists. When both clubs were relegated in 2009, most observers picked Steve Gibson’s steady hand on the tiller as the reason why the Smogs would bounce back to the top flight, whilst Newcastle were assumed to be about to crash and burn. However, three years later, a very different picture has emerged; Newcastle are all but assured of European football next year, with the Champions League still a very real possibility (providing we don’t arse it up against Stoke on Saturday!!), while Burragh remain in 7^th spot, still 1 place but now 4 points outside of the play-offs. On Saturday they host Southampton, who need a win to mathematically ensure their promotion in a televised game; I’ll not hazard a guess at the crowd. Suffice to say, home wins for Cardiff versus Leeds in the 12.30 kick off and Blackpool against Burnley at 3pm, would render Boro’s mathematical pipedream an impossibility. As they are no longer entitled to the parachute payments that have featherbedded their debts since relegation, I’d suggest Yeats’s concept of historical gyres has some relevance to that lot; not so much C86 as The Second Coming.

The great thing about the level of competition between broadband providers, the availability of cheap lap tops and the preponderance of smartphones in the greater Teesside area (I use that geographical description with more irony than caution) is that the 15,000 actual Middlesbrough fans can all get on line and bicker tediously and incessantly with each other and the 20,000 other armchair Liverpool fans who’ve at some points drifted through Gibson’s folly. Roughly speaking, the Boro fans split in to two distinct camps; the nasty, snide, chip on shoulder, faceless, anonymous keyboard warriors who spout bile in a scattergun fashion at anyone they disagree with and who may be found at www.comeonboro.com while there are those who still grovel and disport themselves at the feet of Gibson and the weird, intense Mowbray who lay the blame solely on those fans who don’t show enough faith in their heroes and can be found at the Fly Me To The Moon fanzine website; www.fmttm.com. In the hours following the Doncaster game, the zealots from Board 1 invaded the private grief of the nodding dog ra-ras on Board 2, with the integrity, ability and future intentions of Gibson, Mowbray and FMTTM editor Nichols (referred to as “Westy”) all coming under scrutiny.

FMTTM saw things in this fashion: I am telling myself how far we have come since Strachan disaster and how much further we could go IF we all started to pull together and stopped the in-fighting and witch hunting and looking for a bogeyman to blame. Those are lessons we can take from this season. We cannot achieve anything if we let the trolls have the upper hand. If we let the negatives weigh us down we will get nowhere at all. The bad guys at Come On Burragh viewed it slightly differently; Hope his fanzine goes tits up as it was basically written by ra-ras who thought Southgate was the best thing since sliced bread. The "Fanzine" is just another club propaganda rag, like the program but without the gloss. It’s no wonder no one buys the fucking thing anymore. Westy must be on the payroll of the club or perhaps seats in the executive boxes is his payment?

To me, this level of hysterical internecine warfare is completely ridiculous as the club are still in with a shout of a play-off spot. Why aren’t they all getting behind their team and leaving the recriminations for the end of the season? Sorry, such logical, rational thought shows me to be a deluded Geordie, a phrase I’d never heard until the internet happened.

The internet and football message boards in particular, can be a bizarre, disturbing place for an outsider to venture in to. Never mind the tedious, forced bonhomie of Facebook or the genuinely supportive nature of band forums (The Fall excepted, obviously enough), where tickets, downloads, rarities and many other items are swapped or traded, as well as real friendships can develop and social events get organised, football boards are generally a bear pit of seething testosterone. Generally, this is because they are the preserve of ultra-macho wannabe alpha males, often in their 30s, generally balding and ageing rapidly.

There may be the odd exception; When Saturday Comes has cornered the market in tedious, chinstroking , supposed cultural commentary, which on their forum is the preserve of non-match attending polyversity Sociology and Media Studies drop-outs, who uniformly appear to support, without ever actually watching, AFC Wimbledon and Ipswich. Still it gives them somewhere to vent their spleen in a polysyllabic way other than on The Guardian’s website. Much of this spleen is directed towards Newcastle United; no doubt on account of The Guardian’s prolonged campaign against the club. When I ventured on to the WSC board in May 2009, astonished at the smug, parochial, glib blandishments that were allowed to pass unchecked as facts, in an attempt to counter such stereotypical propaganda, I was initially rusticated then excluded for swimming against the glib, bland tide of accepted wisdom for stating that Newcastle would not in point of fact “do a Leeds,” but would actually win The Championship with over 100 points. Another deluded Geordie eh? Still, I’ve been proven right.

The best, or worst, place for solid gold anti Newcastle bile is the mackem message board that I named On The Buses back in 2005, for its obsession with the tawdry goings-on related to away travel on the commercial coaches supplied by alleged fans of Sunderland and actual fans of Edwyn Collins. Go to www.readytogo.net/forum if you really want to read page after page of head-spinning, swivel-eyed hysterical hatred of everything Newcastle. According to them, the reason Newcastle have done well is that for 33 games this season the opposition haven’t turned up, or we haven’t played anyone yet or that Newcastle have got lucky (with our one-dimensional long ball tactics) and that referees are biased in our favour. However, such is their belief, this season is only a temporary blip as all the players will be sold and that next season Newcastle will be in the bottom 6 because of the distraction of Europa League football, as well as the loss of Ba, Krul, Tiote, Cabaye, Ben Arfa and, in January 2013 Cisse, who is still seen as a “bullet dodged” on the basis of an admittedly less than impressive showing in the Derby game. However why these imminent departures should affect Newcastle’s performance is a troublesome question, as according to OTB none of them are any good in the first place.

Of course, while the unemployable, the mentally ill, the socially inadequate and the sexually perverse who make up the constituency of On The Buses continue to rave and fulminate about Newcastle United, they conveniently ignore the fact that their saviour Martin O’Neill has actually overseen a widening in the gap between the two clubs since he took over. It is an undeniable fact that certain sections of their support are already questioning whether O’Neill is good enough, while simultaneously saying he’s better than Pardew (who is off to Spurs apparently) of course. While I can understand why firstly Brewse, for incompetence on the pitch, and then An fear leathanbhanda ar meisce (formerly known as Mr Charity) for a shameful lack of business acumen were given their cards, I am unable to see any bright future for 2012 FA Cup Winners Brazil on Wear. Party With Marty? More like Administration With Ellis from where I’m standing.

So, with the Smogs tearing each other apart while facing liquidation and the Mackems ignoring the fact their club is sliding towards an inevitable relegation once Ellis Short calls in his debts, is everything coming up roses in the Newcastle United garden? Well, sort of. On the pitch, providing we hold our nerve, things couldn’t be better; though that is said with the caveat that who knows what will happen to the playing squad this summer. Among the real world fans, things are looking up: United 4 NUFC and two of the three Newcastle United fanzines, the brilliant Toon Talk and the equally outstanding Black & White Daft continue to show that the people at the centre of this club are the fans; we are the moral owners and the real custodians of the history and culture of our club. Sadly The Mag remains as dull as ditch water and NUST an utter irrelevancy; a recent email to tell us that their recent elections have seen Rod Findlay, Peter Fanning and Robin Blagburn elected to the board was met with mute indifference across the entire NUFC supporting world.

However, the really interesting developments among Newcastle United fans can be seen on Twitter, where the ageing, balding, inflating 30-something ultra-macho wannabe alpha males are losing a fight that they picked. They’ve chosen as the targets for their ire, the left-leaning intellectual majority of Newcastle supporters, who comprise deep thinking 20-somethings, as well as experienced, hirsute ideologues in their 40s and 50s who have kept faith with their socialist principles and belief in the goodness of all humanity. These left leaning intellectuals are the living, beating heart of Newcastle United’s supporting social conscience; they are good people.

To the 30-somethings, raised in the belief that fists speak louder than words, the very concept that there may be a complicated truth that is preferable to a simple lie, is a deeply disturbing one. Aware of their diminishing physical powers, embarrassed by their intellectual limitations, they pour personal scorn and invective on those at either end of the age spectrum who calmly and pacifically have shown them the error of their simple ways.

Anger courses through the veins of the League of Bald Headed Men and they relentlessly demand satisfaction from those who would place flowers down the barrels of rifles given the chance. The left leaning politically correct intellectuals are embarrassed by the ultra-machos and their bellicose posturing. It gets worse when the balding boot boys issue unasked for promises to meet and sort things out, which are then hurriedly retracted in a shamefaced fashion via less than credible excuses involving missing phone chargers and the like.

As the mid-life crises gang become aware that their bluff and bluster does not impress those who’ve never been part of such a sub species as these radgey proto pugilists claim to belong, all there is left for those who’ve failed in their mission to be Top Boys because the opposition don’t want to be an opposition and have bigger ideological fish to fry, is gambling, problem drinking and the emotional succour they find on line. Often the 30-somethings seek to befriend the intellectually limited or the young and vulnerable, perhaps because it is only daft teenagers and the terminally thick that will be impressed by such tough guy talk. While there may be a sexual element to this, in the sense that the balding blokes are no longer so certain of their macho infallibility, it just seems that the weak and the lonely need to support each other. Frankly it is all rather pitiful. The left leaning intelligentsia, with the benefit of education and life experience over the failed bullies, forgive the weaknesses and inadequacies of those who seek to provoke confrontation.

It is time for the ultra-macho wannabe alpha male mugs and wrong’uns to pipe down; their race is run and they have been pulled up. Brains have beaten brawn without even being aware there was a contest in the first place.

Sweeney Agonistes

Many people think I'm a bit harsh on the Mackems. Well, I am, but don't worry, because here's something to show my bile isn't all channelled at them; a post about the Smogs, which I dedicate to Davo 44, Beamish boro & all my other mates from "Fly Me To The Moon"

Newcastle United are a rare club in many ways; perhaps one of the more obscure reasons for this is the fact we Magpies are bucking the trend in terms of paper based fanzines. Not only is The Mag, dull and ponderous though it may be, still in existence after almost 24 years and a bookshelf bending 267 issues, but there are two other publications on the go. Mick Edmundson from The Back Page bookshop (who issued the irreverent Toon Army News back in the early to mid-1990s) has got the market in superbly splenetic anti Mackem abuse and painstakingly accurate historical research sewn up with his enjoyable Black & White Daft. Meanwhile, Steve Wraith, who has been putting together magazines since he was knee high to a sawn off shooter, pilots the excellent and constantly improving Toon Talk. Very few clubs, other than perhaps Manchester United who have one extra current journal of supporter record, can claim such a high number of printed fanzines.

I don’t do away games any longer, but when I did, one of the highlights was reading the words, sometimes scurrilous, sometimes pretentious, of other supporters in a wide array of fanzines. That doesn’t seem to be possible any longer, with news of fanzines folding on a regular basis. Indeed, I can’t remember the last time I saw one outside an away ground. Only recently Wolverhampton’s A Load Of Bull threw in the towel after 23 years, claiming the cause to be the usual combination of apathy, declining sales and disenchantment with the way the game is going. As regards the first and last points, surely that’s the whole point of a fanzine? It exists as a vehicle for tirades against the faceless moneymen who’ve stolen the game from us.

However, the second point is very true; opinions may be like arseholes, but so, it seems, are football blogs. What is more, blogs cost nothing and are far more interactive (than fanzines, not arseholes) and, if they’re properly maintained, will by definition be more reactive than independent printed media. On that basis, that’s where Mickey Edmundson and Steve Wraith have made such creative successes of their latest magazines, by focussing their writers on precise, niche areas and avoiding creative bankruptcy associated with page after page of match reports of games that took place months ago.

One magazine that is in danger of closure, which seems insane with the club sitting in 7^th place in the Championship with a real chance of the play-offs, is Middlesbrough’s Fly Me To The Moon, a publication that has been issued for almost every single Boro home game since it made its debut appearance before a 1-0 home defeat to Sheffield Wednesday in November 1988. I’m not even sure how many issues that is, but I’m sure it’s well over 500.  In putting the announcement on his website of the potential imminent demise of his fanzine, the editor, childhood Newcastle United fan Rob Nichols asked not for sympathy, but contributions to the last few issues. Unfortunately, he got neither of those things, attracting the kind of intemperate wrath that would suggest that since Gordon Strachan packed up and left town, there’s only 1 candidate left for the position of Most Unpopular Man on Teesside. I mean, look at these two sample responses -:

rivals_oldschool 03/04/2012 16:36

Pointless when most of your content relies on the clubs co-operation. The precedent was set when the fanzine had to toe the line at the expense of being frozen out if it didn't. You haven't been asking any real questions of the club for a while now. It's a boring read. People can buy the matchday programme for that.

BerwickHillsBopper 03/04/2012 18:48     

The reason the fanzine is dead is because it has had nothing to say for many a year. Just a MFC propaganda prop up. Just shining a smaller light on the positive spin MFC already puts out about itself… At a local level, the fanzine could have mounted an assault on many of the negative things that have affected Boro fans at home and away. Instead you chose to ignore major issues such as fan treatment, ticket prices, safe standing, the morgue like atmosphere at home, the loss of matchday culture etc etc. Instead we got "exclusive interviews" where the same old rubbish that has been said 100 times before is said for 101st time. The time for mourning FMMTM as a fanzine is not at the end of the season should it fold; it would have been many, many years ago when it ceased to be a real vehicle for the fans and real fans issues. RIP FMTTM? About 12 years too late methinks.

Speaking personally, I like the editor Rob Nichols, who I also know as a devotee of The Fall and other arcane musical treats, including his own wonderfully off-kilter combo Shrug, immensely. While I’ve problems with his rewriting of history of the Mido game in August 2007, having undergone a post traumatic volte face when Fleet Street came knocking, or the farcical non-story of the pensioner supposedly attacked by Newcastle fans in November 2008 outside the Riverside that didn’t even make up a molehill of half-baked beans, everything else about the fella is worthy of undiluted praise.

I’ve stayed at his house, attended his 40^th birthday party and even contributed to 85 issues of the magazine, writing a regular column in almost every issue from 1996 to 2002, as well as contributing to 2 annuals they produced, taking the back cover photograph for the first of them. Subjects covered by my jottings included non-league football, general comments on the game, as well as a detailed diary of my Slovak sojourn from 1999 to 2001, which is currently available at www.britskibelasi.footballunited.com

You probably wonder why, as a Newcastle fan, I wrote so much for a Boro fanzine. Good question, as I can’t stand Middlesbrough as a club, even if in August 1986, I was one of 30,000 Newcastle United fans who dug deep to fill the collection buckets outside SJP for the debt riddled side that were locked out of Ayresome Park. That dislike has nothing to do with the supposed regional proximity of the two clubs; I hate the Mackems for their proximity. I hate Boro because they embody everything that is wrong with the modern game; never mind their weird, intense manager, there’s also their sterile, flat-pack ground in the middle of nowhere, half full of replica shirted, face painted, foam handed, curly red nylon wigged Sky era fans who think singing Pigbag is the very epitome of assured fan terrace culture and who mostly supported Liverpool until Captain Lager arrived to crash face first on to tables laden with drinks in Tall Trees and attempt to spend Steve Gibson’s fortune in double quick time around 1994. These days the 15,000 or so who huddle against the cold in the Riverside and phone the 3 Has-Beens on Real Radio with incessant moaning (Allough Bearny, ut’s Kaerl frum Stoktun; ah’uv gorruh seay Bearny tha eez gorruh goh, Bearny) may be the supporting equivalent of crash test dummies, but it never used to be that case.

My first trip to Middlesbrough was back in 1983; a 1-1 draw on a February afternoon. We took the train from Heworth, a 2 coach rattler peopled by 1,000 moustachioed headcases in NCB donkey jackets and a similar number of Tacchini and Samba youngsters with wedge cuts. At Thornaby, the Teesside police hauled us off the train and the local Superintendent informed the massed ranks of half drunk and decidedly radgey NUFC supporters that we could either get back on the train and go home now, or be herded on to another cattle truck direct to Boro, but if we did, and I quote, I am unable to guarantee your safety from this point onwards. Valour being the better part of discretion to an 18 year old, we of course went to the game, and by the simple expedient of looking like a couple of punters hanging around the mixing desk at a Birthday Party or Tuxedomoon gig, avoided a shoeing from hell courtesy of the famed Clive Road Axemen, antecedents of notorious thugs The Frontline, who thankfully appear to have receded from view.

The last football game I saw in Middlesbrough was Newcastle 0 Arsenal 0 in a three-quarters empty chain pub, back on August 13^th before attending a Wedding Present gig at the Town Hall Crypt. That day, Boro had beaten Leeds away; the reverse fixture when Warnock’s team dismantled the home side on BBC1 is the only time I’ve seen their side this season. It wasn’t much cop; if they go up, they’ll be lucky to get double figures in points. However, whatever I feel about the club, their traditional fans, their modern fans and their disturbing manager, I do feel Boro’s support, such as it is, should be offered the opportunity to write down their moaning and see it in print. Consequently, I desperately hope Fly Me To the Moon survives, which is why I’ve penned this article.

Fragments of Unpopular Culture 10: On The Town

The next generation of Groundhopping is in good hands. Despite being morally flawed by his devotion to Heart of Midlothian, Steven McCann is a good lad with a good blog (http://thetravellingfan.blogspot.co.uk/) that includes trips to see Percy Main. He's regularly in these parts as his partner is from Newcastle. As a result, he wanted to blog about the place; I wrote this piece for him

“I loathe my childhood and all that remains of it…” (Jean Paul Sartre, “Les Mots”).

As a teenage existentialist, I could have picked a better place to be dragged up than Felling, a scenic fishing village on the south bank of the Tyne. Actually, the eastern exurb of Gateshead wasn’t that bad a spot in the late 70s; lax licensing laws in the local off licences and easy access to Newcastle meant gigs, pubs and St. James Park were always in reach.

Until I turned 18, I’d always wanted to escape the North East forever; I craved London applying to University there and scanning the NME gig guide each week as I was convinced I’d make a home there. Sadly, a Grade E in my French A Level (never could get my head around le subjunctif) stalled my progress. Instead of Goldsmiths in Lewisham, the University of Ulster in Coleraine was my destination. Three years of Guinness, cheeseburgers and draw later, I emerged without a short term memory but with a IIi. This was 1986; it was menial jobs in London, the dole on Tyneside or teaching.

Post PGCE in Leeds that hadn’t become a Yorkshire Milan, but still espoused a David Peace “Red Riding” ambience, I found myself back in Newcastle. Property, partner and a profession meant I’d never leave. The season ticket and son cemented my stay, until 1999 when I threw it all up to embrace a mid-life crisis in the shape of a Slovak odyssey in Bratislava. Running out of options in 2002, I came back to High Heaton; I’ll leave feet first in a box.

Newcastle is a great city; small enough to navigate, large enough to hide. It’s safe and hedonistic; it’s against conformity and in favour of brotherhood. I’m nearly 50 so I use it for gigs and real ale. The Ouseburn Delta is my spiritual home; The Tyne, The Free Trade & The Cluny provide all you need for a night out. If you want the city centre, The Bodega, Tilleys, The Head of Steam, The Forth and The Newcastle Arms have it all. The Quayside is shit, but the Crown Posada should be visited once in your life.

In the 47.5 years I’ve had on this planet, 39 of them have been spent within 3 miles of St. James’ Park. I don’t regret that at all.