Me and the
ex-wife had a reasonably amicable divorce I suppose; she’d grown understandably
sick and tired of my twins obsessions with non-league football and obscure post
punk indie music, so she gave me my marching orders. As is often the case in
these things, she got to keep the family home, which I was okay about as it
gave stability for the bairn who was only 8 or so at the time. Hence, at the
age of 39, I found myself descending the property ladder to a lower rung. My
more modest current abode, purchased in 2003, immediately appealed as it was
without a garage (I don’t drive you see) and the front garden had been turned
into an arid, low maintenance, concrete and pebble oasis of brutality. I hate
flowers.
Also, the
new abode was (and is) within walking distance of Sam Smith’s Park, home of my
beloved Newcastle Benfield FC, who happened to be embarking on their debut
season in the Northern League in 2003/2004, just as I moved in. That said, since 2004, the non-league pyramid
has evolved to the extent that both Team Northumbria and Heaton Stannington are
actually my closest Northern League sides. We’ll probably not even mention the
proximity of Northern Alliance sides Newcastle University and Chemfica, who
play less than 200 yards from my back door; mind the grass is so long and the
hedge so impenetrably dense in my garden that you can’t see daylight, never
mind Cochrane Park Sports’ Ground.
If I’ve
established something in this piece, other than my love of Newcastle Benfield,
it is my lack of horticultural skills.
Amusing then that when I met my partner Laura, I discovered that
gardening was her passion and that she was the proud owner of an allotment. In
that first flush of passionate adoration, I volunteered my services as an agricultural
labourer; only on Sundays like. Saturday is for football; end of story. To be
honest, I started to enjoy a bit of fresh air that wasn’t accompanied by 22
psychopathic radgies trying to kick lumps out of each other, in front of 100 or
so extreme Tourette’s sufferers. I was never a talented or particularly
enthusiastic gardener, but I dug trenches, pulled weeds, painted the shed and
all manner of tasks that required no semblance of compassion or creativity. We
had a lovely few years with the allotment, until Laura moved to a new place
with a garden. Incidentally, we still don’t live together; I mean 10 years is too
soon to rush into things. Agreed?
Meanwhile,
Benfield had cause to think about allotments from 2005 onwards; West Allotment
Celtic to be precise. Gaining promotion to the Northern League a season after
us, our former Northern Alliance colleagues established themselves firmly as
our local rivals. No disrespect to Team North or Heaton Stan, but the club from
the top of the hill at Whitley Park (still known by all as Blue Flames, because
of its former use as the British Gas sports and recreation complex) are the
ones we love to beat in the rightly named Coach
Lane Clasico, named after the mile of road that separates us.
Despite
playing in the same kit as the similarly named outfit from Glasgow, WAC (as we
know them) were originally known as West Allotment Primitive Methodists,
playing at the legendary, shambolic Farm Ground (long before my time), until
they moved to Backworth Welfare; a pitch so far from the dressing rooms that
when they drew Newcastle Reserves in the Northumberland Senior Cup back in
1994, the Magpies’ second string took a coach from the changers to the park. When WAC decided their ambitions lay in the
Northern League, they left Backworth and established a groundshare at the
Northumberland FA’s headquarters at Whitley Park. As a result, they play on a
pristine bowling green of a pitch, maintained by full-time groundskeepers, not
that the hard-working volunteers at other clubs are jealous of this; not a bit.
We’re actually more amused by their committee of old school tie, blue blazer,
Freemason 60-somethings, who are perpetually outraged about something or
other. Generally us hammering them…
That said, Benfield’s
first trip to WAC in the Northern League was on August Bank Holiday 2005, when
we lost 4-0, manager Keith Sheardown resigned and things looked bleak. Things were decidedly happier on an
unseasonably warm December day a few months later, when we trounced them 6-2.
The season after, we kept clean sheets in a 0-0, 1-0 then 2-0 series, including
a league cup win, with a Brian Dodsworth hat trick helping us to a 3-0 win in
07/08. The year after we won the league
and cup double, doing the double over them in our first away and last home
games. It got even better the year
after; 9-0 on aggregate, including 7-0 at our place. Sadly, all good things
must come to an end; after doing them 3 times in a row in 2010/2011, WAC did
the decent thing and got relegated.
As a result,
our nearest opponents were Whitley Bay, with whom we enjoy friendly relations,
so we essentially lacked a derby for 3 seasons until WAC came back up in 2014.
The first game was at their place on a wet November night in a gale; we turned
round 2-0 up, but lost 3-2 as the ferocious wind made conditions farcical. At least we got our own back in the return; a
Paul Brayson treble saw us ease to a 3-0 win.
You see, it wasn’t just the points we wanted, it was revenge. In that
season’s Northumberland Senior Cup, we were drawn at home against them; a Vase
replay put the game back a week and we filled our bench with an unused sub,
signed after the original date. Despite winning 4-1, WAC’s committee came
crowing into the clubhouse for a half time cuppa, pointing out that we’d be
thrown out regardless of the result. So it came to pass; things like that stick
in your craw, but that’s not the full extent of their small-mindedness.
In
2015/2016, nether us nor WAC did that well; we finished 5th bottom,
8 points above the drop zone, while they were a place lower and 4 points worse
off. The very lowest point of the season
came in a 2-1 home reverse on a freezing February Wednesday, with their winner
being a fluke in injury time. It was enough to make you weep. However, back in August
anything seemed possible; we were 2-0 down to them at Whitley Park after 15
minutes, before roaring back to win 6-2. Their PA bloke operates from a Portakabin
grandly named the West Allotment Command Centre. As our goals rained in, he kept to the true
spirit of non-league football, by announcing over the tannoy that “the parent
of the small child who is encroaching onto the cricket pitch must take
responsibility for her.” That was my mate Gary and his 6 year old daughter;
suffice to say, having been to all 44 Northern League grounds last year, he
rated WAC as the least friendly. I agree with him, but then I’m Benfield and
biased.
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