Slow Train Coming

Just over four years ago I attended North Shields against Phoenix Sports in the FA Vase, simply because Benfield were without a game that day. Shields, in front of a raucous full house, advanced to the quarter finals with a comprehensive 4-1 win. That was the last time I ever set foot in Ralph Gardiner Park, as I was summarily banned from the ground, ostensibly for selling copies of The Popular Side, the Newcastle United fanzine I used to edit, without permission. Fair enough, I was guilty of this transgression, admitted to it and wrote an apology. It cut no ice. The ban remains in force, which is a shame as I would quite like to have seen Benfield wipe the floor with Shields the last two seasons, but there you go. Last year, when The Lions triumphed 4-3, the game was switched to a Friday night and I’d already bought tickets for Pete Astor at The Cumberland, so no bones broken. This year, I decided to remove myself completely from the equation and recomplete my Northern League set by ticking off Redcar Athletic, who were hosting Brandon United.

Redcar isn’t a place I’ve visited very often. I remember going through it in May 1988, en route to a job interview about 10 miles to the south in the tiny settlement of Brotton, the smallest place ever to have boasted a Northern League side, albeit in the 1890s. At the interview, the head teacher pointed out I’d began my letter of application with a tremendous typo; Dear Sid instead of Dear Sir. It wasn’t a promising start; mind after sitting in on a year 10 lesson when pupils were giving talks about their hobbies and two lasses extolled the joys of ferreting in the Cleveland Hills, I’m glad I didn’t make the grade, delighted to escape the sticks with a lift to the genteel Victorian grandeur of Saltburn where I caught the train home.

What I remember most about that day was the feeling of utter insignificance as the 2-carriage rattler trundled through the stark, visceral enormity of Cargo Fleet; the fires, furnaces and ferocity of the rolling mills and smelters on either side of the apologetically narrow train track put one in mind of a post-apocalyptic Grand Canyon. These days, it’s a post-industrial wasteland; Redcar British Steel is the least used train station on the whole network, while the flames have been doused and then haphazardly landscaped. It is an empty place. Harrowing.

It was more than a quarter of a century before I returned, which was for Redcar Old Boys v Wallsend Winstons in the Over 40s league. Bad blood and an alleged incident of gouging had marred our home game, but the return in late 2015, played at Redcar Rugby Club which is adjacent to Redcar Athletic’s ground, saw things go off the scale. Our alleged gouging victim had just scored to bring us back to 2-1 down but celebrated by giving the supposed perpetrator of the ocular assault an incredible kicking, before being dragged away. The cops got involved and statements were given, before mental Martin’s money saw the prosecution go away. Appalling.  Terrifying.

Back to the present day. The last time I’d had an away day from Central, to Edinburgh City, Newcastle had been on their travels to Huddersfield. Today, Ashley’s Army were hosting the Terriers. Many of their fans, loud and fat, appeared to be Shannon Matthews’s extended family, judging by demeanour and deportment. I was glad to take my seat on the slightly delayed 12.52, occasioned by the difficulties involved in removing a clearly terrified autistic lad from the train. The delay did allow the birthday boy himself, Harry Pearson, to climb on board. He was having a nice day out to Esh Winning 5 Easington CW 2; a new ground for him as well. West Terrace, the most scenic of grounds, would have looked stunning in this unseasonal sunshine. It was a shame I couldn’t go with him, but there was a duty to perform.

I changed at Darlington to an almost deserted Bishop Auckland to Saltburn service. Arriving in Middlesbrough, it appeared there were more Saturday shoppers waiting to get on than people wanting to get off. What made this more astonishing was that this was a Boro home game day; QPR, not known for their travelling support, were in town. Unlike the febrile, fevered anticipation at Newcastle Central, the match day experience on Teesside is an understated affair, easily ignored. For the record, Boro won 2-0 to remain in the play-offs in front of a crowd of just over 22k.

Redcar East was my destination and I arrived on time at 13.59. Google maps told me the ground was a 12-minute walk away. Splendid stuff. Rather typically, despite having Sat Nav on my phone, I got completely lost and, on the hottest day of the year, wandered aimlessly around the place until I lucked upon the right route, but still didn’t enter the ground until 15.04. By that time, Redcar had already established a 2-0 lead. It wasn’t a surprise as Brandon are in a parlous state; once all England Sunday Cup Winners and lauded for an incredible Northern League title win as recently as 2005, they are in danger of finishing bottom of Division 2. Of course, the machinations of league restructuring mean that nobody has a clue how many will go down at the end of this year, not even the FA at this stage, but things aren’t looking good.

It looked fairly ominous from the moment I arrived; Redcar swarmed forward, hitting the bar twice in quick succession and keeping a young Brandon side who would struggle in the Tyneside Amateur, penned into their own half. It was 3-0 with a penalty on 30 minutes and 4-0 just on half time. The goals were accompanied by the sound of distant shotgun fire in the proximate Cleveland Hills; the pellets tearing through rabbit flesh as much of a massacre as events in front of me.

Half time gave me the chance for a coffee and a slice of delicious corned beef pie, as well as a wander round. The ground, which reminded me slightly of Jarrow’s Perth Green home or, because of the rural vibe, Newcastle University’s new home of Kimberley Park in Prudhoe is perfectly serviceable for Division 2 standards, with a crowd of 156 loosely rattling around the touchlines. The second half, played in marginally cooler conditions with a slight breeze coming off the sea, was more of the same. It was 6-0 by the hour and the ref started showing unconscious sympathy by denying Redcar a pair of stonewall penalties. No matter, they continued to pick off Brandon at will and advanced to 9-0 after 80 minutes, at which point the tenacious Durham lads showed the necessary teeth and determination to avoid conceding another and thus avoided the indignity of double figures. To be frank, Redcar were nothing flash; just strong, fast and direct, but Brandon were abject. Poor lads.

Full time and a much shorter walk back to Redcar East gave me time on the platform to digest the scores; a win for Newcastle and, even better, Benfield wiped the floor with Shields, easing past them with a 3-1 score line. Excellent stuff. Terrible stuff on the train mind. A points failure at South Bank delayed us by well over an hour, meaning I didn’t get back to Central until almost 8pm. Still, at least Northern Rail’s Delay Repay scheme with refund the ticket price, which will come in handy when planning my next little excursion on April 6^th.