Sunday 30 November 2014

Hill of Beans

On Monday 1st December, the Premier League sponsored Shachtmanite dynastic poodle organisation the Football Supporters' Federation has their annual glam and glitzy awards night at the Emirates Stadium. In 2013, each nominee had a pair of tickets for free. In 2014, somewhat contradicting the FSF's "twenty's plenty" campaign on Premier League prices, each nominee had 1 free ticket, but was also given the opportunity to buy a second for £50. Appallingly, one of the categories is Fanzine of the Year. In 2013, Stand won it and I hope Duck triumphs this time, but only because  I like the people involved with those two fanzines very much. Here is a longer take on the above statement, published in issue 4 of The Popular Side, available for £2 inc P&P or £1 for a PDF via PayPal to iancusack@blueyonder.co.uk

To paraphrase Bobby Robson’s famous quotation; what is a fanzine anyway? Well, at The Popular Side we agreed on our own definition of what the publication would look like at our founders’ meeting in The Northumberland Hussar back on June 20th, which is why we’re an A5, old school, not for profit venture, without advertising, website or merchandising. We intend to stay that way; indeed, if we compromise on any of those principles, I’m out of here. Some of the decisions we made were philosophical, such as a disinclination to carry adverts or charge you more than £1 for each issue (unless you’ve bought a postal copy), as we didn’t want you to fund our leisure activities, while some were decisions made from expediency; we don’t have a website because we know, after the fraught experiences trying to keep Number 9 going a free, downloadable fanzine last season, that we’re writers and not designers. This is why we have concentrated from the get go on finding the very best writers out there and persuading them to produce articles for us; the fact we keep selling out suggests that aim has been reached. If you want a musical analogy, The Popular Side are the mandolin-playing folk singers and clog dancing troupe supping Real ale in The Cumberland Arms, while other bells and whistles, on-line merchandising operations are DJing with their iPads at the new Bier Rex. Good luck to them, but I reckon our version of A Sailor’s Life sounds more like Sandy Denny’s than theirs does.

Each month when I do the mail-outs to far flung contributors and subscribers, I also send fanzine PDFs (because this is a far cheaper method than posting out copies, as the costs incurred would mean we’d struggle to achieve our goal of breaking even on our small modest print run) to friends and allies; current contributors overseas, former contributors who deserve to be kept in the loop and a small band of other, inspirational publications to whom we feel a special bond as they’ve shown us that in this digital age, there is still a market for published fanzines. You really should investigate some of these magazines; West Stand Bogs (Barnsley), Mudhutter (Wigan Athletic), All At Sea (Southend United), The Football Pink (general), Popular Stand (Doncaster Rovers), A Fine Lung (FC United of Manchester), Duck (Stoke City) and Stand (general).

These latter three publications, along with well-established titles such as United We Stand (Man United), The Square Ball (Leeds), A Love Supreme (sunderland) have been shortlisted for the 2014 Football Supporters’ Federation (FSF) Fanzine of the Year Award, which will be decided by an on-line poll. Last year Stand, which I’ve written for since issue 2, won the award, but I was distinctly underwhelmed by this. Obviously as we’ve not been nominated, I could be accused of spite, but that really isn’t the case, for two main reasons. Firstly, I’m uneasy with the concept of direct competition among fanzines; we have enough to deal watching our teams compete with each other, without trying to create an unnecessary, pretend meritocracy involving supporter-led ventures. In my eyes, every supporter of every club, from Manchester City to the very base of the non-league pyramid, is of equal worth, as we are all in this together. Therefore, to attempt to try and impose a competitive edge to any independent, printed expressions of opinion seems to be contradictory to the founding principles of our own and every other fanzine.

Secondly, without even going into the question of the value and worth of the FSF, and this really sticks in my craw, the fanzine awards are sponsored by William Hill. Again, I realise I’m in a tiny minority here, but I don’t gamble; I never have and I never will as I find it incomprehensible how people can risk money on the outcome of sporting events. That is of course by the by in relation to these awards, but I have to say that I simply fail to understand how anyone can be up in arms about Wonga, without going into the question of gradated morality in relation to capitalism, when at the same time expressing a desire to win an award that has the name of a large chain of bookmakers plastered all over it. 

Gambling addiction, whether it be on-line poker, roulette machines or the local dog track, is as much of a destructive influence on individuals and families, often in the poorest sections of our city and Britain as a whole, as alcohol or drugs. I’ve no statistics to back this up, but I’d imagine that payday lenders (aka legalised loan sharks) are often the only source of credit for those who find themselves up to their eyes in debt because of failed punts on dogs, horses or cards. Surely, as independent publications providing a voice for disenfranchised and marginalised supporters, we should not be having any truck with multinational corporations that prey on human weakness and desperation? This is precisely why The Clash didn’t do Top of the Pops; once you become part of the mainstream, you can’t help but be tamed and controlled by the supporters and functionaries of The Man. I’d like to think that if The Popular Side had been offered a place on the list of nominees, we would have turned it down flat.

In all honesty, if you want to show support and give recognition to fanzines, go out and buy one. Most magazines have got a Twitter profile and accept PayPal; far better to pay a couple of quid and have an hour’s enjoyment out of it than pour more money into the pockets of super-rich corporations who’ve reached that spot our of exploiting all of us.

Monday 17 November 2014

RED NOT DEAD

Back in August, I wet to see my friend David Peace read from his novel "GB84" in Barnsley Town Hall, at an event commemorating the 30th anniversary of what is known in those parts as The Strike. Afterwards, we had a pint and then headed to Oakwell to see the home side lose 1-0 to Crawley. This is my love letter to the town of Barnsley, a place that will remain forever in my affection and "un hommage" to David's writing. It is published in issue 6 of "West Stand Bogs" and I'm delighted to say it's proving to be quite popular, for which I'm eternally grateful -:



The dead brood under Britain. We whisper. We echo. The emanation of Giant Albion (David Peace; GB84 p2).

Alarm sounds early. 5.45. Shower while the kettle boils at sun up on a fresh morning. Soft banana breakfast on the deserted dawn bus. First one out the garage and then the first train from the sidings. Carriages full of nobody. Durham, then Darlington, Northallerton and York. By now handfuls of retail workers heading for Leeds to graft. Solitary cricket enthusiasts going early to Manchester and a clutch of teenage female weekend drinkers with unironed hair and wheely cases for Liverpool, but it’s time to change. Ignore three quid Cappuccinos on the platform; choose £1.25 Nescafe from Greggs. Splash water across face and shirt in the station bogs to try and come round. Too old for early mornings. Two days away from 50 and the season is about to start.

Connection heads for Nottingham (Scabs! Scabs! Scabs!). The fast one. Ignores Normanton. Stops at Westgate. Home of Wakefield Young Drinkers Club. 35 years ago they danced to 7” singles by The Fall in the bar of the Red Hut WMC. Train slowly describes a circuitous parabola through previously forgotten countryside between Darton and Barnsley. A dozen years since setting foot in the finest town in South Yorkshire, yet the route is familiar. The businesses are different, but the edifices unchanged.  Eldon Street. Market Hill. The Town Hall. Massive. Portland stone. Magnificent. George Orwell hated the place when he came to experience Barnsley. Said the council should have spent the money on proper housing for miners.

22 years and 10 days earlier. In that Town Hall. The unchanging edifice in Portland stone. A Friday afternoon. Glorious sun, just like today. Repeat some vows. Sign the register. Confetti. Laughter. Photographs. A chauffeured Beetle up to High Hoyland and a buffet for 60. A good day. A special day and then ordinary days followed, before too many bad days, some terrible days and the inevitable ending. Time passes and time shows how to remember people, places and events. Fondly and with respect. Ordinary people should never be enemies. The enemies are the evil ones who control and exploit and manipulate.

Ten o’clock sharp, automatic door into the museum swings open and the path leads through the story of this brave town. A noble town of strong, indefatigable special people who took on the enemies, with the dice loaded, the cards marked and the numbers uneven. They lost, heroically, tragically and maddeningly 30 years ago. There’s a crowd here to listen and to talk and to remember the boiling hate and anger that will never abate. That witch. That evil, evil witch who destroyed all that was good and, with the aid of her advisors and benefactors, her henchmen and apologists, enacted the destruction not just of the post war social democratic consensus and the welfare state, but of communities. Families. Friendships. Workplaces. Homes. Lives. Hope. The past. The present. The future.

All of this in David Peace’s GB84, the book that brings a crowd to the education resource room in the Museum in Barnsley Town Hall on Saturday 9th August 2014. The crowd of good people. Ordinary, decent people who care and who love their kin and who won’t forget the past. Football fans. Workers. Students. Poets. Deep thinkers. Orgreave campaigners. Strike veterans. The ages vary, but these people are not Old Labour. They are Prehistoric Labour. Someone is reading Chavs, but they’ll tell you Owen Jones is a Pop Idol poster boy apologist for the party that betrayed the NUM in 84 and, by implication, the entire working class, then did so again and again between 1997 and 2010 and will do in 2015, if given the chance.

This crowd are engaged, respectful, informed. They know their history. They talk and debate and remember in anger, in sorrow and in the unshakeable belief that the system in this country and the ruling elite who destroyed the strike in 1984 are the enemy. The evil enemy so chillingly portrayed in the book they are here to talk about.

For 2 hours the crowd talks and listens and agrees. They know this book; GB84 by David Peace. My friend. A Huddersfield Town fan, who will not see his team concede a goal after 25 seconds, lose 4-0 at home to Bournemouth and have their manager (a former Barnsley boss) sacked that afternoon, because he is in a pub in Barnsley on Market Hill, drinking Barnsley Bitter on Saturday 9th August 2014. That novelist will buy West Stand Bogs and ask contributors in Old No 7 to sign his copy, as he signs theirs. There is respect, affection and understanding. They are of the crowd from before and there are no barriers in this excellent pub selling superb ale in this fine, proud town that was right and brave and independent in 1984. And it still is. The pride is there in this pub as the glorious Acorn beer slides down until it is time to say goodbye and head for Oakwell.

In the glorious sunshine, to Oakwell. For the opening game of the season. Drain the glass. Emerge onto Market Hill. Turn slightly left and go down Eldon Street. Take a slight right onto Kendray Street and cross the train lines. Continue onto Pontefract Road, under the flyover. Turn left onto Bala Street, up the hill. Continue onto Belgrave Road and back down the other side. Turn left onto Grove Street and there’s Oakwell, where you went so often between 1990 and 2002.

There’s a man in a tasteful hat and another in a tidy jacket selling West Stand Bogs. You talk and you laugh and you sense the atmosphere build as more and more people arrive. The new season. This fine club in this brave town that plays in this noble ground Oakwell, where it costs £24 to see a League 1 game, but it doesn’t matter as the crowds keep coming and the atmosphere builds and everyone is relentlessly positive and immensely optimistic on a glorious day. The morning has been about history and the past, but this is about the present and the future. We are the crowd and we believe in good. 

The good men of this great club in this amazing town.But there is no happy ending. Crawley Town have 150 fans, a questionable past and the loathsome John Gregory as manager. They play no football. They kick it long and push and harry and barge. The loathsome manager waves and gesticulates and claims for everything. Authority again get it wrong. Gary Willard’s name is mentioned repeatedly. A stupid sending off. A loss of concentration. A soft corner. Weak defending. Unmarked header. 0-1 after 83 minutes. 10,000 people say BASTARDS in unison. The day deflates and people leave as the whistle blows, but keep their dignity.

A defeat, but not the end of the road. The sun shines glorious as proud, unbowed crowds go back up Belgrave Road and down Bala Street. Across Pontefract Road and up Eldon Street to Market Hill to another incredible pint and a free pork pie, before the train through Darton and Wakefield and Leeds, where that station buffet advertises not free pork pies, but half price sushi. It is not 1984 any longer.

Barnsley will rise again. The town. The club. The people. In Old No 7. In Oakwell. In the Museum and in the pages of West Stand Bogs.

Awake! Awake! This is England. Your England – and the Year is Zero (David Peace: GB84 p462).






Thursday 13 November 2014

Absent Bloody Mindedness

This weekend is another international break, apparently. For me, it's a typical, ordinary Saturday, with Winstons v Hartlepool Greenside in the morning and Whitley Bay v Shildon in the afternoon, as I can't feasibly get to Bishop Auckland v Benfield. Some people may seek to see this as another Non League Day, which is an idea I'd be happy to give two cheers for, as I explain in issue 6 of The Football Pink, which is a fabulous read and available from http://footballpink.net/


International weekends; September 6th, October 11th, November 15th, March 28th. Blank Saturdays that acted as the equivalent of wasted Bank Holiday Saturdays for the unapologetic supporter of the professional game, ignorant and unmoved by the purity of the grassroots. Now they stretch from Friday to Monday, with irregular times and incomprehensible television scheduling like a distasteful miniature close season break. Switzerland versus England moved to a Monday night for Sky coverage. Beyond laughable.
However, some good may have come from it. James Doe, not John, an arriviste follower of Queens Park Rangers, inspired by a pre-season trip to Tavistock, set up Non League Day on the September international weekend as a social media experiment in 2010, to afford fans of Premier League and Championship sides the chance to experience football at a level they may be otherwise unfamiliar with, hopefully enabling the curious neophyte to experience and hopefully buy into the sense of belonging and preservation of traditional values that remains so appealing from the Conference down over. Paternalist and patronising, though undoubtedly well intentioned Doe’s motivations may be, it appears that such an apparently organic and supporter led innovation has had minimal to zero impact on the amateur game in the North East, where the Northern League (established 1889), the Northern Alliance (founded in 1890) and the Wearside League (the bairn of the three, coming into existence in 1892) played their usual full fixture list, including qualifying round ties in the FA Vase, on September 6th without a single reference on their websites, or that of any member club in their programmes, to this alleged mould-breaking, fan-led initiative to reclaim the game. Why is this the case? A lack of awareness partly, but mainly the status of the amateur game in the region, allied with traditional Tyneside bloody-mindedness in my opinion.

Personally speaking, Non League Day 2014 came at the end of a week when I’d taken in Whickham 0 Darlington Railway Athletic 0 in Northern League Division 2 on Tuesday, Whitley Bay A 4 Gosforth Bohemians 1 on the Wednesday in the Northern Alliance George Dobbins League Cup and attended a monthly meeting of the Tyneside Amateur League in my role as Chair on the Friday night.

The day began early for me. My alarm went off at 7.00 and by ten past; I was filling the water bottles in preparation for our game that morning. I play in goal for Wallsend Winstons in Division 3 of the North East over 40s League and Saturday 6th September saw us travelling, with a massively weakened squad on account of work commitments, late season holidays and the understandable reluctance of those competing in the Great North Run to risk injury the day before, to Redcar Vets. Yes, that’s right; a 100 mile round trip for a bunch of blokes in their forties and fifties. Setting off at 8.45, we were parked up an hour later and soon sat in the changing rooms debating how we were going to approach the game with so many key personnel missing.

Twenty minutes into the game and all the planning we’d made and tactics we’d discussed were rendered useless as we were 2-0 down. Within the opening five minutes, our centre half slipped on the greasy surface and their centre forward raced through, before blasting a shot into the roof of the net as I came out. A quarter of an hour later, the left winger evaded our right back and drove into the area. I came to the edge of the six yard box to cut down his options, but to no avail as he laid the ball back and our left back was nowhere near their attacker who hit a first time shot in off the back post. With no attacking options, this was effectively game over and it was definitely so for me when, stooping to collect a loose ball at a corner, one of their players kneed me in the temple and I hit the deck seeing stars.

I’m not sure if he meant to hurt me, but he was reckless, as if a potentially injurious connection is made accidentally, the person responsible, at our level at any rate, apologises profusely. This bloke didn’t; he slunk away as the rest of his team appealed for a corner, or so I’m told. I was sat with my back to the post feeling decidedly queasy. I had to go off and the other keeper came on. Needless to say, he played a blinder as we put in a massively improved second half performance, got one back and were unlucky not to find an equaliser. I didn’t really join in with the team spirit during the rest of the game I’m sorry to say; while the dizziness and nausea abated, proving I wasn’t concussed, a thumping headache developed.

The post-match inquest over pie and peas in Redcar Rugby Club continued without me, as I took the chance of a lift straight back from one of our lot who only got the last 15 minutes as a sub and had his daughter’s birthday party to attend. Having checked the connections on Traveline, I’d half thought of jumping a train at Redcar East to Darlington, then taking a bus to Shildon, where my Northern League side Newcastle Benfield were playing, but the connections were tight and I wasn’t in the best of fettle for such a trek which would get me back to Newcastle after 8pm via a 3 bus homeward journey, so I half dozed in the car on the way back. Getting dropped off at Silverlink, I caught the 308 to the Ice Rink, popping into see my elderly mother in Monkseaton for half an hour, for a chat and a coffee, then headed up to Hillheads for Whitley Bay versus Celtic Nation. If I couldn’t see my team on Non League Day, seemed logical to watch the best game in the area and this one just shaded West Allotment versus Eccleshall in the FA Vase.

I had hoped that similar thoughts across the North Tyneside area would have resulted in a significantly larger crowd than usual, but the spike in Bay’s attendances occasioned by their hat trick of Vase successes between 2009 and 2011 seems to be a thing of the past, as just shy of 400, which is about average, were present. Having seen Benfield pulverise Celtic Nation, I expected something similar, but was rewarded by a tepid first half that, according to one wag, will “have people celebrating Premier League Day” next week. Strangely, texts from Shildon, Dunston v Bishop Auckland and Heaton Stannington v Esh Winning told similar tales of a dearth of goals and poor games. I felt slightly guilty about this, though obviously the quality of play was nothing to do with me, as I’d invited 4 friends along to Bay, who were starting to see their concentration wander and unsurprisingly headed off to the bar at half time, while I took another couple of Anadin Extra to calm my banging head.

Thankfully Whitley Bay upped the ante from the kick off and soon took the lead with a header by player manager Leon Ryan. With winger Alex Kempster playing a blinder, Whitley added two further goals and could have had many more as Celtic Nation were blown away in the second period. Meanwhile, Heaton Stan scored twice over Esh Winning, Dunston went ahead over Bishops and, most crucially, Benfield grabbed the lead at Dean Street, which would be a hell of a result. As relaxed conversation about the potential for further visits to Northern League games replaced sardonic mutterings about a waste of six quid, I surreptitiously checked Twitter for updates from Shildon. Nothing at all.
Full time, still encumbered by a kit bag of dirty clothes and a wave of tiredness that signalled the end of my headache, I bade farewell to my mates who were off for a drink to the Rockcliffe and took the 308 back home, basking in the glow of a warm afternoon, great second half and Benfield’s seeming victory. Only when an email of the league results some time around 5.30, did I find out Shildon had scored twice in the last 5 minutes to win the game. Another blow, this time metaphorical, but just as painful as the one at Redcar.

Back in the house, I put a load of washing in and spent the evening compiling Benfield’s programme for Saturday 13th’s game at home to Bridlington Town in the FA Cup. Too tired to take in the Martin Carthy and Dave Swarbrick gig at the Tyneside Irish Centre, without even Match of the Day or The Football League Show to look forward to, I crashed out early after what is, for me, a typical Saturday from August to May. At least, checking the fixtures, I knew I had Team Northumbria v Norton & Stockton Ancients (Monday), Whitley Bay v RCA (Tuesday) and West Allotment v Bishop Auckland (Wednesday) to look forward to.

You see, for some of us, every day is Non League Day and that, allied to reasonably strong crowds that, ignoring Darlington’s one season dramatic effect on attendances, have continued to rise steadily over the past decade is another reason why initiatives such as this will fail to have much impact. Harry Pearson, famed author of The Far Corner, the definitive book on football in the region always equated Northern League games to church attendances; not many here, with those that are being elderly. While there is a degree of truth in that assertion, as much as there is a residual respect at an elemental level for established religion, even among the most zealous of unbelievers, there is also common in the area, an accepted belief among those match-going or sofa and bar stool Mags and Mackems who would never set foot in an amateur ground, that the local football is a source of great regional pride.


All well and good, but when there are at most 60 supporters at Benfield’s Sam Smith’s Park on a benign Saturday in mid-October for the visit of Billingham Synthonia with no Premiership games taking place anywhere, it rankles to know that The Lochside, The Newton, The Corner House and The Chillingham are packed with thirsty punters awaiting the tea time kick off between Estonia and England. These people will not be swayed by initiatives by Non League Day. The best we followers of the local game can hope for is a surge of interest if our team does well in a national competition. Benfield versus York City in the FA Cup 4th qualifying round in 2006 attracted 926; Benfield won the Northern League double in 2008/2009 with average attendances of 73. That stinks, but it’s also reality. It won’t stop me being at an average of 100 non-league games per season, but I accept I may be a little on the zealous side…

Tuesday 4 November 2014

Amateur Dogmatics

I wrote this piece for "Northern Promise" issue 2, which hasn't appeared yet, so I've decided to publish here, to try and get a bit of publicity for the Tyneside Amateur League, of which I am proud to be Chair....

In late May 2014, in that dreaded period of footballing doldrums between the final games in the Northern Alliance and its feeder leagues, of whom more later, and the start of the pre-season friendlies at the beginning of July, when your only hope of competitive football action is an expensive train ride to Scotland to watch a kicking festival in the Juniors between Carnoustie Panmure and Craigmark Burntonians or, worse still, the World Cup and other international inanities, I received a request from a fellow by the name of Paul Mosley. A good lad is Paul; some of you may know him as a referee and linesman in the Northern League, but he’s also the official appointments and fixture secretary for the Tyneside Amateur League, not to mention the ex officio press officer, who submits a lengthy and well written summary of each week’s games to the Whitley Bay Guardian. I’ve the utmost respect for any official, other than Howard Webb of course (how can you grow up in the shadow of Orgreave and still join the South Yorkshire Police?), so I listened to what Paul had to say. Incidentally, I’d recommend those of you who believe that once you get below the Premier League, football exists at a level one step removed from either keepy-up tournaments underneath flickering sodium streetlights, or mass games of 3 pots and in, played on post WWII bomb sites by innumerable scrawny, skinned-kneed tykes in raggy ganseys who could be Billy Casper’s body double, should pay attention to this article.
The Tyneside Amateur League was formed in 1949 and stands at level 14 of the English football pyramid acting, in effect, as a feeder league to the Northern Alliance Division 2. At a similar level are the Newcastle Corinthians League and the North Northumberland League (Duns is in Northumberland?). In its 65th season, the Tyneside Amateur League boasts 15 teams in a single division; some as historic and venerable as the descendants very first winners of the league title, Hazelrigg Welfare, now Victory and some as neophytic as Lindisfarne Custom Planet Reserves, formed in July 2014. Regardless of history, all clubs also play in 2 knock-out competitions, the Neville Cowey Cup (named after the league’s treasurer and stalwart volunteer) and the Bill Upsall Trophies Tyneside Amateur Challenge Shield, as well as taking part in either the Northumberland FA or Durham FA Minor Cup, depending on their geographical location.
Like all leagues at this level, football is a struggle; finding players, pitches and volunteers is a thankless struggle that can expand to fill the whole of one’s life. Often, the outcome isn’t a happy one; witness well established Stocksfield of the Alliance Premier Division who folded a fortnight into the season, citing a dearth of players. If it is difficult at that level, especially for a club who run a successful Sunday side and dozens of junior teams, how much worse must it be for those several rungs down the pyramid? Perhaps this is why so many teams now choose to play under the umbrella of more established clubs as a nominal reserve side for Ponteland United, Chemfica or Gosforth Bohemians for instance. Indeed, the old South East Northumberland League was subsumed into the Tyneside Amateur League as Division 2 in 2002/2003, but that’s gone now.
It is an undeniable fact that there are fewer clubs now than in days of yore; the North Northumberland League was formed in 1898 and is running two divisions of 9, drawn from teams between the Wansbeck and Tweed, following Shilbottle’s promotion to the Alliance. The Corinthians League, founded a century later in 1999 for teams largely made up of graduates from Newcastle and Northumbria  universities (even if Newcastle Medicals and the rather well educated West Jesmond actually play in the TAL), also has 19 teams spread across 2 divisions. You are entitled to wonder, as I always did, why the Tyneside Amateur League and Corinthians exist in such close geographical proximity to each other, especially at exactly the same level in the pyramid. Good question and one that ought to be cogitated over by the brains trust at Philosophers United in the Corinthian League. Prosaically, the short answer is, we are where we are, though that may not be the case in the future, which is where I came in.
Catching me unawares, not being tied up with Benfield’s programme or editing new Newcastle fanzine The Popular Side at the precise second Paul contacted me, I was honoured when he asked me if I would consider taking on the role of Tyneside Amateur League chair with immediate effect. About to clear my throat and offer up a short but gracious acceptance speech, I had the wind knocked from my sails when he announced I was being offered the role because he couldn’t think of anyone else. Naturally I accepted the offer immediately and now have the duties of chairing the league meetings on the first Friday of each month at Four Lane Ends Club (the last one was over in 17 minutes), as well as making a speech and handing over the trophies at the end of the season finals. It sounds alright to me; I just need to get to see more of the teams in action.
At the present time, all 3 leagues offer something for the curious on-looker or willing volunteer to cast their eye over. The TAL has a historical pedigree; in the last dozen years top scorers have included such luminaries of the local game as Trevor Ford Femi Akinbolu and Over the past few seasons, when I was involved at Percy Main Amateurs, we used to host TAL cup finals, generally on the very last Saturday in May. There was always a healthy crowd, often bolstered by groundhoppers and other inquisitive sorts, and the quality of the game was often surprisingly high. Witness how Longbenton came so agonisingly close to promotion from Alliance Division 2 after making the step up from TAL last season, for instance. In recent years Blyth Isabella, Killingworth and Whickham Lang Jacks (now Whickham Sporting) have made the step up and not been disgraced. They are doing their bit for local football; are you?
In an era when it is easy to become either divorced from the reality of the grassroots game because of the superabundance of live matches, or disenchanted from the whole sport because of the excesses of the Premier League, I feel it is beholden on us all to at least try and give something back to the game that gave us so much, at least in years gone by. Watching Gateshead instead of Newcastle is all well and good, but there’s a whole world of amateur football out there which deserves praise. 
Tyneside Amateur League games kick off at 2.00pm and cup ties at 1.30; give one of them a go at some point. You’ll be glad you did.  Think about this; my very first Tyneside Amateur League game saw a scoreline of High Howdon SC (now of the Alliance) 2 West Jesmond (still of the TAL) 11. Not bad for free!!