Friday, 16 August 2013

Casino Royale

A couple of weeks back I posted my article from the new Barnsley fanzine "West Stand Bogs," before The Tykes opened their season with a home game against Wigan. Latics won 4-0 and I've got this article in the first issue of their fanzine "Mudhutter," coming out this week -:


I don’t like rugby league and I’m not an aficionado of Northern Soul, though I have read the complete works of George Orwell. All things considered, I’m not that well informed about your home town, as I’ve only ever been to Wigan once in my life; Saturday 15th October 2005 to be precise, when  Latics beat my team Newcastle United  1-0, courtesy of a Jason Roberts goal. Now as we’re talking WAFC v NUFC, I suppose I really should engage in the sickening, self-pitying, grief tourism many of my fellow supporters in the so-called Toon Army (bleurgh!) insist upon when fixtures between the sides are discussed; this particular instance involves a wailing and a beating of the breast at the failure of a linesman (Andy Williams was the fella; a real home loving man…) to notice Shearer’s header had crossed the line. It did, but it wasn’t given and as it was almost 8 years ago, you’ll forgive me for not sulking about it still. Frankly, mainly because of Vigo and Ives on Twitter (even if it broke my heart when the latter unfollowed me), Wigan were becoming almost a second team of mine last season. Honestly, I didn’t want you to go down; to tell the truth, I wanted Newcastle to take a tumble, as the Championship is far better fun than the Premier. Take it from someone with recent experience.

I bought my first Newcastle United season ticket in 1988 and we promptly got relegated, finishing bottom of the table. Still flushed with youthful optimism, I renewed the next season and we lost in the play-offs to sunderland. Undaunted, I kept buying them, even getting 2 a year from 2003 onwards, once my son started coming as well, until I bought my last pair in 2008, when we promptly got relegated again and so I stopped lacing out a grand a year on something that was giving me high blood pressure and making me miserable most of the time.  To clarify though,  I didn’t actually stop watching Newcastle on a regular basis because we got relegated, but because my son couldn’t get to Saturday games any longer as, sincere apologies for this, he’s a rugby player; the XV man code of course.  Really, I just didn’t want to go without him. Looking back from 4 years distant, it’s the best thing I’ve ever done, football-wise.

Freed from the tyranny of a fortnightly trip to SJP, I embraced non-league football with a passion and continue to do so; these days I edit the programme for Northern League Division 2 side Heaton Stannington (www.heatonstanningtonfc.co.uk). However, I didn’t abandon supporting Newcastle as it’s quite difficult to go that far, though cutting the umbilical cord of attendance and cancelling my Sky sports subscription made it easier to view things as they unfolded rationally, which isn’t a word often associated with NUFC.

Once Newcastle were comfortably ensconced in the lower division, I noticed that not only are there loads more games to play, but with the additional play-offs to schedule, the ordinary season is over much earlier; to squeeze 46 games in, there are perforce midweek games a plenty and sometimes two home games in a week, which is a big ask for a lot of fans to get to. Being a kind hearted sort, I offered to take any spare tickets off the hands of friends and acquaintances whose work or home life precluded their attendance at these games, not changing for my service either and thus managing to see a dozen home games for nowt. 

Even better, we won nearly all of them against teams I’d heard of, but hadn’t seen for decades, like Scunthorpe, Peterborough or Preston. Reacquainting oneself with the hitherto more recondite reaches of the 72 Football League sides outside of the Premier is one of the charming things about Championship football. Other lovable idiosyncrasies related to the second tier include the fact all opposition teams have a bulky, top heavy keeper, a pair of ponderous Dutch midfielders with daft names, a whippet of a winger who can’t cross to save his life and a long haired Hungarian striker who comes on as sub and puts a free header over the bar in injury time.  You mightn’t be too keen on the prospect of Championship football right now, but remember the fact that you lucky sods aren’t going to endure visits from Everton, Stoke or Fulham; you’ve got the enticing prospect of Yeovil, Bournemouth and Brighton to look forward to.

I mean, seriously; what is there to enjoy about the Premier? Chelsea, Man United, citeh, Arse, Spurs and Liverpool have the top 6 places already booked, while Palace, Hull and sunderland have placed reserved signs on the relegation berths. Can you really get excited about winning the race for 11th spot over Fulham and Southampton? It’s far better, if you can manage it, to piss the lower division and simply enjoy the old-fashioned pleasure of going to games, expecting to see a win and a few goals again. Being serious, I do recognise that when Newcastle went down in 2009, almost everyone expected us to “do a Leeds;” we didn’t, but Wolves did last year. Therefore, your hope should be to “do a Newcastle.”  Whether Oden Coyle is the man to do this is frankly a question I’m unable to answer; perhaps James Perch will be the final part of his promotion jigsaw.

I remember Wigan’s first visit to SJP after we came back up (not when you first came up as I was on holiday in Portugal over Easter 2006 when we beat you 3-1) on 15th October 2010. Of course I didn’t go to it, having opted to attend Percy Main 4 Peterlee Town 1 instead, but I came in to town for a drink post match. The “big” game had ended 2-2; N’Zogbia’s early brace for you eventually negated by a Coloccini headed equaliser deep in stoppage time. In the pub there were the usual moans and groans about the result, as apparently a massive club like Newcastle shouldn’t be drawing with shite like wigan (I’m only repeating what I was told) but I stated, and still maintain, that this game would be the point that kickstarted Newcastle’s season, as a draw against a well-established Premier side who play good football, like Wigan, should be celebrated. Few shared my opinion, but Newcastle beat West Ham, sunderland (5-1) and Arsenal at the Emirates in the next 3 games.

That 2-2 draw started a superstition of mine, which has involved me not watching any Newcastle v Wigan game since; the return in January 2011 when we won for the only time at your place saw me take Sunday lunch with my friends Paul & Alison, who hate football. In 2011/2012, Heaton Stannington twice took my fancy, as 1-1 draw with Ashington Colliers was preferable to seeing Cabaye’s late winner and a 5-0 stuffing of Killingworth won hands down over the 4-0 crushing Newcastle endured. You’d think 2012/2013 was a tougher ask, but Team Northumbria of the Northern League play their midweek games on a Monday, so a 2-0 win over Bishop Auckland saved me from the 3-0 result at SJP, while a dutiful Sunday visit to my elderly mother kept me away from the St. Patrick’s Day massacre.

Just as well, as I was ashamed of Newcastle United that day; our pissed teenage fans spoiling the amateur game before kick-off was a pathetic spectacle, trumped only by John Carver’s ignorant belligerence towards McManaman at half time,shouting and bawling  like an irate, sleep-deprived neighbour attempting to intimidate a teenage lass holding a 16th birthday house party in a middle class suburb. Even more shameful was the reaction of the NUFC Twitterati to Haidara’s injury; yes it was a crap tackle, yes it was a red card (Whelan talked bollocks as usual), but he was back playing in 3 weeks.  People get injured in football; deal with it. I have to deal with the envy I feel about you and your club. To conclude, let me tell you a bit about my family history to illustrate things.




My maternal grandfather was a Newcastle United season ticket holder back in the 1960s, when to be such a thing was almost unknown. I’ve still got the mainly unused 1967/1968 booklet, rendered useless as he died at the tragically early age of 54, on Margaret Thatcher’s 42nd birthday; Friday 13th October 1967. Well it was certainly unlucky for him. If he’d been spared, he would have turned 100 on Saturday 18th May 2013. So what? Well, his name was Ben Watson. Coincidence eh?  My granddad, though I’ve only vague memories of him as I was 3 when he died, was able to celebrate Newcastle’s last League Championship win in 1927 and 5 FA Cup victories, the latter 3 in 51, 52 and 55 he was present at. I’m 50 next year and during my life all we’ve won was the 1969 Fairs Cup (I was 4 at the time) and the 2007 Inter Toto Cup; even that was only because Livorno beat Auxerre 1-0 (it was a complex competition).  So, no I don’t hate Wigan; I’m actually deeply jealous of you. I only hope I can share the feeling that you had when Ben Watson scored that goal at Wembley, because I’ve never felt anything so good; relegations fade, but successes live forever, or so I’m told.


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