In my first article, I explained my love
affair with Irish football, as a Geordie part of the Irish diaspora, as a kid
living in Newcastle and as a student in County Derry. In this one, I detail my
travels around the League of Ireland.
Once I’d finished university, I
had a year kicking around in London, before doing a postgraduate course in
Leeds and then ending up back where I started in time for the 1988/1989 season.
I purchased my first NUFC season ticket in the newly opened Milburn Stand, saw
us win only 3 home games all season (1 on a Saturday) and finish bottom. Grand; especially as I’d missed most of the
promotion season in 83/84 when I’d first moved away. The tone was set for the
campaign when Tony Cottee scored after 32 seconds of his debut as Everton tore
us apart 4-0 on the opening day and didn’t get appreciably better from there on
in. However, I found a great way of dealing with disappointment; instead of
just drowning myself in gargle, I wrote about my angst in fanzines, such as The Mag, which published 283 issues from
1988 until 2014. I wrote for it and hundreds of other fan publications and,
during the period of contraction when many fanzines went either to the wall or
on-line following the digital revolution of the past decade or so, I resolutely
kept the flame going. These days, like with vinyl records, there has been a
renaissance in print media in England, even if it is still a niche market, with
several great publications on the go, like Duck
from Stoke, West Stand Bogs from
Barnsley, general ones like The Football
Pink and Stand, not to mention a
certain NUFC publication called The
Popular Side (@PopularSideZine) that I’m involved with.
One of the best things fanzines
do is to bring fans of different clubs together; these days it’s done via Twitter
(which is how I got chatting to Barry), but years ago, people used to send
letters. In summer 1993, we got one at The
Mag from a fella in County Kildare, though a native of Boyle in the County
Roscommon, who told of the Irish NUFC supporters club and his support for the
club going back to 1975. Now after I finished university, I went back to the
north for a couple of nostalgic visits in summer 88 and 89, but with no Irish
relatives left (all either emigrated or dead; sounds a bit like Spancillhill no?), I found my
relationship with the old country becoming further and further distant.
However, that all changed when I met John McQuaid, the fella who wrote that
letter, on the day Newcastle battered Wimbledon 4-0 at Halloween 1993.
We hit it off straightaway and he
stayed at our house, subsequently introducing us to other Irish Mags, such as
Declan McGrath originally of Glenamaddy, but a resident of Dublin since the 80s
when he came up to College. Where I lived at the time was close to St James
Park and, until my son was born in 1995, we had 2 spare bedrooms; most home
games we’d end up with drunken Irish Mags crashed out all over the place.
However, I’d not been back to Ireland for years, so in 1996 we booked a summer
cottage out in Westport, drove over and bookended our stay with a few days in
Dublin at Declan’s place in Whitehall, which is when my love affair with the
League of Ireland was reignited.
At the Iveagh Grounds in Crumlin,
Declan and I joined half a dozen inebriated Albion Rovers fans, to watch the
side from Scotland win a game on a glorious Friday evening in late July by 2-0.
It wasn’t great, but it was a start, though for St James Gate, it was an ending
as they resigned from the league soon after. The next day, we had to come west
along the road to Mayo and thence to a couple of nights in Sligo (just missing
sunderland playing against Rovers), but we were back the following Bank Holiday
Monday. Declan broke the news that there was a game to see that day; with the
(now ex) wife’s blessing, me and him took off to Tolka for a friendly against
Tranmere Rovers. To be perfectly honest the main reason for going was to try
and catch a word with former NUFC legend Liam O’Brien at full time. We didn’t
manage it (I think the game was a 1-1 draw), but I encountered for the first
time the bearded, dishevelled legend that is the ubiquitous Tom. I think I’ve
seen him at 80% of the League of Ireland games I’ve attended. Gesticulating
wildly at the almost deserted stand, he repeatedly proclaimed if dis was Kark, all dese seats’d be taken….
As well as the football, it was a
great holiday in all respects and so we decided to return in 1998; money was
tight with a young bairn so I couldn’t afford to fly over on a whim, so this
was my next chance to see a bit of Irish football. Astonishingly, no sooner had
we booked ferries than Newcastle announced a pre-season friendly against Bohs,
for the day before we travelled. However, all was not lost, as they also
pencilled in a game at the Carlisle Grounds for the Friday after we arrived. As
this was an NUFC game, we met in the traditional Irish Mags bar The Ha’penny
Bridge Inn, before taking the DART and a few more pints in The Hibernia, then
seeing Newcastle stroll to a 6-0 win, though the way the team plays now, the score
could be reversed. Anyway, the next day we went west again, to Bonniconlon in
Mayo for a fortnight, arriving back in Dublin on Saturday afternoon.
Ironically, Declan wasn’t at home; he was over in Newcastle staying at our
house and watching NUFC draw 0-0 with Charlton. It seems I ended up at the
better game; leafing through The Evening Herald,
I noticed more coverage of English football (especially the range of teams who
had supporters clubs, from Arsenal to York it seemed), but I did see something
worth watching that night, which is how I ended up at Home Farm (Everton) 0 UCD
2. This and the one at Tolka had been two games I’d been able to walk to from
Declan’s place in Marino. They were to be the last games I’d see on League of
Ireland grounds for almost a decade and not just because Home Farm eventually
departed the senior scene in the aftermath of my trip.
That Saturday had been the day of
the Omagh Bombing; a terrible event that came out of nowhere and changed things
forever for people. Without wishing to compare the two events, I had life
changing moments in 1999; my marriage failed, I quit my job and I moved to
Bratislava in Slovakia for 2 years. Irish football was not top of my list of
priorities. Returning to Newcastle in
2001, I got myself a new job, a new home and a new partner, but it was a while
until I returned; summer 2007 for Declan’s wedding to be precise. There were
football games of course; in the raging unreality of the Celtic Tiger, Drogheda
United were to be crowned champions in the autumn, courtesy of a goal by former
NUFC junior Guy Bates, but on August 1st they hosted SP Libertas in the UEFA
Cup at Dalymount Park and I took this game in with Declan and John, who
continue to indulge my bizarre hobby to this day. In the Conan Doyle before
kick-off, RTE news announced the death of my dad’s idol Tommy Makem; I called
the old fella to break him the news and he was desperately sad. Ironically, two
years later to the day, my dad died. RIP Eddy; still miss you mate.
Drogs had won the game on a
glorious evening, but the weather soon turned and the Saturday saw torrential
downpours, but there was a game to go to. It was a trip back to Tolka to see
Shamrock Rovers draw 1-1 with Derry City. Frankly, I like all League of Ireland
teams, apart from the Tallaght Corinthians and being up close and personal with
their fans that night, who repeatedly sang your
next queen is Camilla Parker Bowles to the Derry supporters, reinforced my
opinions. What truly awful people they are, despite a lifelong Irish Mag called
Chris carrying the flag for Donabate Rovers. Perhaps he’s no good at geography
either.
2008 was a busy year; a trip in
the summer saw me take in Bohs 2 Shams 1 at Dalier (I couldn’t believe the
whole stand singing Hold Me Now after
Mark Rossiter scored a sublime free kick) and Longford 2 Salthill 2, courtesy
of John driving us out there. I’ve a mate from home who is Newcastle’s only
Salthill fan; I even got him a jersey for his 50th in 2013, just as
the club went out the league. At the end of October 08, I came back for the two
FAI Cup semi-finals; St Pat’s 1 Bohs 3 on a Friday night at Richmond Park,
followed by a trip to Declan’s home turf
for a night in Glenamaddy, followed by Galway 1 Derry 3. I really should get to
a final one year.
With my dad dying, 2009 was a
write-off, but I was back in late May 2010 to see Athlone 2 Salthill 0, on a
night when the crowd was 104 (John drove us) and it showered hailstones, almost
obscuring the lines. Declan, now living among the quality in Dalkey, took me to
the UCD bowl to see St Pat’s win 3-1. Every spectator was given free Lynx
shower gel; a quick downpour saw some of the more foolish Inchicorians
attempting an al fresco wash and
brush up. 2011 was an example of bad planning, with only Bray 1 Sligo 4 on the
agenda, though I did manage to be privy to a conversation between Roddy Collins
and Tom. It’s debatable who talked the most sense, or bollocks…
In 2012, I came over at the start
of June and took in a game at Sligo; the Under 21s lost 3-1 to Italy, who
included NUFC’s Davide Santon. Immediately I got home, I decided to take my son
Ben over in August to see the old country; we’d arranged to fly from Newcastle
to Cork, arriving on Friday tea time, giving us time to get to Turners Cross
for the game against St Pat’s. Typically enough, St Pat’s were still in the
Europa League qualifiers, which as you know happen almost weekly in July and
August, so the game was postponed and a friendly against Blackburn Rovers
pencilled in. Typically, that was moved to the Saturday night, when we’d headed
up country, to watch Cork v Galway in the hurling semi-finals at Croker on the
Sunday, my birthday. We lost. On the
Monday, Ben, Declan and I (John refuses to watch Shams having been employed by
South Dublin Council for so long and understanding their funding) met Chris from
Donabate in The Ha’penny Bridge Inn before heading to Tallaght for the game
with Sligo Rovers. It was a decent 1-1 draw, but Declan saw none of it. After
getting fired into the pints, he fell asleep at kick off and only woke up with
about 10 minutes to go. A memorable evening, or perhaps not.
I didn’t make it over in 2013 as
I had to deal with my elderly mam going into a care home and all the hassles to
do with selling property, but I was back in 2014. I’d persuaded John and Declan
that a trip to Wexford to see the Youths take on Shams B was what we needed to do.
The lads in pink won 2-0, I got to meet Mick Wallace and share a bottle of his
special red wine (no VAT obviously), while singing the praises of Clare Daly
and Boyd Barrett and slagging off those chancers Joe Higgins and Paul Murphy,
then we had a grand night out in some craft ale palace. I don’t think the taxi
man was over enamoured by me playing the greatest hits of Pecker Dunne on my
phone at 4am though. Next day, in the teeth of the worst hangover in my life,
we went to Tullamore to see the GAA 4A (or was it 4B?) games; Cork beat Sligo
and Galway beat Tipperary, so everyone was happy and the President was there. At
full time, Declan bailed out for home, but John and I are made of sterner
stuff, which is how we kept it going for the Sunday night in Dundalk, as they
took Bray to pieces 4-0, when the artificial pitch was a necessity as about six
inches of rain came down during the game. The highlight for me was seeing the
ubiquitous Tom singing along to Three
Pubs in Bohola at half time.
So; 2015. I did contemplate a
trip over for June 12th, but whether that would have been Drogheda
(still not been to Hunky Dorys you see) against Derry or Cabinteely versus
Athlone, became immaterial as I couldn’t get over. Thankfully, late July is
booked for a trip down the country, as there’s still Cork, Cobh, Limerick and
Waterford to tick off my list. I’ll keep you posted.
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