Easter
is a great time for football. While extremist Christians may seek to force
their weird rituals on a populace who are culturally at variance with such arcane
beliefs, as most people seem to regard the holiday weekend not as a time to
remember when Jesus died for his own sins, not mine, but rather as an excuse
for a 4 day bender, I always look forward to the annual West Allotment Celtic v
Whitley Bay game on the Friday and a Northern Alliance Cup Final on the Monday,
which will be between Gateshead Leam Rangers and Grainger Park at Percy Main
this year. No doubt the crowd will be mainly full of miserable, hungover blokes
moaning about yet another calamity against the Unwashed, but it’s a game worth
seeing isn’t it?
Holy
/ Maundy Thursday was dry, cool, overcast and windy; Good Friday was
predominantly saturated. As I plodged to Tynemouth Metro for the journey to
Benton, pools of fresh rainwater told of an overnight downpour. It was still
teeming with rain at kick off; a decent crowd of about 300 gathered to see a
tense, scrappy affair on a spongy pitch that cut up in sections, which ended
1-1. West Allotment would probably be pleased with a point, as it keeps them
clear of the drop zone, though the fact they took the lead means they could
view this as 2 points dropped.
At
full time, the gents I was in company with began to debate what they’d do with
rest of the weekend until 4.00 Sunday. It was easy for me; Saturday would
include Benfield v Consett in the afternoon after the usual morning in the Over
40s, away to Whitburn. However, Friday wasn’t going to involve a day on the
gargle unlike everyone else (and not just because of doctor’s orders either),
but a trip to Kingston Park to see the opening game of the rugby league season
between Newcastle Thunder and Barrow Raiders. This was an event I wouldn’t even
have known about, if it weren’t for the free paper I had delivered last week.
Carrying it from the hall to the kitchen recycling bin, I saw an advert for
Thunder v Barrow, with an offer for free tickets for the first 10 people to
email the club. I did as suggested and, by return, was told I’d won; the
envelope with a pair of tickets arrived the next morning, which seemed a decent
bargaining point with which to try and rekindle the spirit of dad and lad
sports outings with him home from Leeds. Mind, the fact he’d been out to world
Headquarters until half seven or something meant he wasn’t in the most
communicative of moods, so no change there then. Our next excursion is to see
Lee “Scratch” Perry next Friday, where conservation will presumably be
impossible.
Other
than watching Ben play both codes for club and school, I’ve only ever seen one
live game of rugby in my life. Back in 2009 when he’d just started playing for
Wallsend rugby league and Novocastrians rugby union, I decided to try and get
involved, from an admittedly non-existent knowledge base. There was no point in
trying to take him to see the Falcons as cheap tickets from Novos were
available for most games and, having completely missed out on Thunder’s time in
the Super League years ago, the junior section of the rugby league
administrators had that side of the sport all sorted out. Ben got free tickets
to Magic Weekend in Murrayfield, a trip to see St Helens v Wigan and the chance
to act as a ball boy, as he did for an international between England and France
at Doncaster, so it was up to me to try and instil a bit of local pride. We
went to Gateshead Stadium to watch a Challenge Cup tie against Whitehaven that
the home side won 42-38. I wouldn’t say I particularly understood the game, but
I enjoyed the experience, aided by the input of an excited 14 year old who’d
fallen head over heels in love with the 13 man code and I always thought I’d go
again.
Ben
had a season ticket with Thunder until 2011, when the continual change of
players, sponsors and managers, not to mention a series of horrific losses
including a 100 point reverse at Bramley, sapped his enthusiasm. A lack of
sleep and a gallon of Peroni had done it for this game, but at least he pitched
up with me to see the debut fixture for Newcastle Thunder, who have changed
their name after ditching the vast and soulless Gateshead Stadium for the compact
and soulless Kingston Park, which now boasts a state of the art 4G pitch. As I
say, I’ve never seen the Falcons, nor did I see Blue Star during their
ill-fated tenancy there, but I must have seen upwards of a couple of dozen NUFC
reserve games there a decade or so back. It was always windy. It was always
pissing down. It was always freezing. Not this time though; the rain had
stopped and there wasn’t any hint of a breeze by mid afternoon. Still bloody
cold though, as we tramped down from the Metro with a couple of dozen others.
There
was no discernible demographic to this tribe; solitary middle aged blokes, a
few dads and lads, the odd family or knot of young fellas, but not much
evidence of Thunder merchandise. If anything, I saw a few Falcons fleeces and
umbrellas; perhaps union regulars had been granted freebies in the way we had
been. That would go some way towards explaining the healthy crowd of 1,522,
which was the highest in third-level League 1 and higher than both games in the
step above Championship (including Workington’s 40-0 trouncing of Whitehaven in
the Cumbrian derby), who were all contained in the large West Stand. Impressive
though the turnout was I’d wager it would be less than 20% of the attendance
for a Falcons game. I’ve no idea what a rugby union away support is like, nor a
league one, but I’d estimate Barrow had in excess of 250 there, judging by the
4 coaches that had journeyed over from Cumbria. Would many Conference level
football teams attract that level of support? You tell me. Certainly, I was
impressed by their passion and relentless support, even in the face of the
defeat they suffered.
Thunder,
boasting a trio of Samoans, played what seemed to be an attacking and expansive
game, triumphing 34-22 over a Barrow side who looked like a load of very big,
very hard blokes, but didn’t seek to move the ball with the verve or panache of
the home team. However, the crowd
appreciated the efforts of both teams, to the extent that victors and
vanquished came across to applaud the two sets of fans, who didn’t depart at
the final whistle, but adjoined to the bar in the back of the stand for
post-match pints which, same as pre match and during match pints, is a real
rugby league tradition, as is friendship and camaraderie. I would wonder if
this is the case between the two Hull sides, or Leeds and Bradford or St Helens
and Wigan, but it is seemingly de rigeur
in the third tier and it was touching to see. It reminded me of the sense of
unity and commonality so prevalent in the Northern League.
Sadly,
being desperately hungover and on the wagon respectively, we didn’t partake,
opting instead to make a slow journey home by public transport, allowing me to
muse on the experience as junior fell into a reverie. Did I enjoy it?
Surprisingly, yes and I would certainly contemplate going again, as I seemed to
understand all the rules. I have to say that the knock on rule in rugby league
is a rather strict one.
There
were some bizarre touches; the Frank Sinatra tribute act on in the bar before
the game and at half time, the mother and daughter in head to toe Thunder
merchandise each accompanied by a snoozing lap dog, the pair of blokes in Stone
Island clobber moodily supping two pint containers in the back of the stand
muttering to each other about Barrow, who they conceded had brought “a canny
squad.” Each to their own…
Saturday
4 April will be the 40th consecutive Saturday I’ll have seen a game
of football, with the potential of seeing games until 12 June, which will make
it 50 straight weeks from 5 July last year and Benfield 2 Annan Athletic 2; if
I still need more exposure to team sports other than Northumberland CC, I’ll
come back to see Thunder, who I hope take the division by storm.
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