Shoot Out the Lights

Saturday 5^th October was all about Benfield’s superb 3-0 win away to Ryhope CW, to the extent I filtered out most world events, including Jeremy Corbyn’s sold-out rally at Newcastle City Hall, where he was ably supported by the not at all shifty Member for Wansbeck; Comrade Ian Mortgage-Broker. Despite being a card-carrying member of the Labour Party, I’d not been aware that this event was taking place, much less how popular it had proved to be. To be honest, I’m still used to leaders adopting the Kinnock approach; stay in the house out of sight, unless you’ve got to pick up some beers or a curry, when you can get stuck in to the local ultra-right white trash and give them a good hammering in the offie or takeaway. Of course Corbyn is utterly unlike the Brussels Moneybag; he’s a hopeless leader but a brilliant ideas man, whereas Boyo was useless at everything. I also find it amazing how he can generate such support; clearly, he speaks for the marginalised everywhere. Can we say the same for his taller doppelganger Richard Thompson? He sold out the Albert Hall for his 70^th birthday bash the other week and it remains a source of real disappointment to me that I’ve never seen him live.

To be frank, I’m not Corbyn’s biggest fan, but when you compare him to the likes of Sunderland’s community leader, the incarcerated neo-Nazi thug Billy Charlton, or the recently deceased Scouse loudmouthed Trokskyist fraudster, bully, and lifelong groomer of the socially inadequate who flocked to his feet, Tony Mulhearn, then you’ve got to give at least two cheers for the Allotment Gramsci. Being in the toon, the night before the Ashley versus Glazer sludgefest, Jez the Gooner was in exactly the right place to make the uncontentious and highly logical points that -:

Football is our lives, our community, and it’s the place where people go to socialise and enjoy each other’s company…Football should belong to the people, not the billionaires and there’s only one party sending out that clear message. The Labour government will make the Premier League clubs pay money for grass roots football.

Of course, Newcastle United had to weigh into this debate two days late and totally against the tide of public opinion. Presumably the club’s gossamer-skinned billionaire baby owner screamed a few invective laced utterances down the phone to the hapless clown supposedly in charge of day to day operations, with the result being a snide, small-minded and self-pitying statement that seemed to suggest Labour were already in power when blaming the People’s Party for austerity -:

"We will not apologise for being financially sustainable, but we will push the boundaries of our budgets as far as possible to maximise the impact on the team. We agree with Mr Corbyn that ‘a football club is more than just a club; it is an institution at the heart of our communities’. That is why our vast work across the local community will continue, with Newcastle United Foundation providing services and support to tens of thousands of people in our region each year that truly need them. Often, Newcastle United Foundation’s projects fill in significant gaps that the public sector sadly cannot stretch to, particularly at a time when government cuts are so prevalent.”

These weasel words were released on the following Tuesday, when the club ought to have been moving heaven and earth to give Matty Longstaff a new contract, after him and Sean simply played Man United off the park on the Sunday and I even got to see it. A couple of weeks before, Virgin phoned me and congratulated me for 16 continuous years of loyalty to them. I remember. I moved in here on the Friday before a stunning 0-0 with Bolton Wanderers and had the cable set up to see us lose 3-2 at Arsenal, courtesy of a ludicrous handball in the box by Jenas, the Friday after. I cancelled it a couple of years later, but the loyalty reward deal was £10 a month for all sports channels, so I took it. And proceeded to watch the 5-0 annihilation at Leicester, where Brooooth’s team were without tactics, a plan or a spine, same as the Brighton game the week before. Mind the Man United v Arse Monday night sponsored sleep gave an indication of what would be in store at SJP the following week. Newcastle only had to be a fraction less shite than the Red Devils to beat them. Thankfully, Broooth didn’t bother trying to coach them and the players returned to last season’s well-drilled professionalism and were more than worthy winners, almost by accident or default.

What has become blindly obvious to me this season, giving Hayden a free pass for his rash tackle and red card at Leicester, is that by letting Diame go and keeping the ineffectual Ki and unprofessional Shelvey, our best midfield should always include Sean for his vision and passing, and Matty for his tenacious, all-action style. To see a couple of Tynemouth Cricket Club lads absolutely playing Man United off the park almost had me in tears. I can’t remember having such pride in the team for years; probably not since the “bunch of lads” 2010 promotion side to be honest. There’s Chelsea and Wolves up next, so no room for any complacency just yet eh?

Meanwhile, a million miles away from the glamour and glitz of the Premier League, third division Sunderland have, for no good season it seems, dispensed with the services of manager Jack Ross. Yes, the same bloke who guided them to 2 successful defences of the Trafalgar Square Trophy, is out on his ear. Clearly their failure to get promotion last year was a surprise; I’d expected them and Portsmouth to be head and shoulders above the rest of the division, surfing a wave of pro Brexit testosterone, tabs and coastal deprivation. Losing out in the play-offs to Charlton, whose manager Lee Bowyer looks like the only ex-Newcastle player who would ever have chosen to live on Wearside, was a hammer blow to the plans of their venture capitalist owners Donald Stewart and Crystal Methven. The promised land of the Championship was needed to make their dreams of un embarras de richesses come true. Sadly, with defeats to the likes of Lincoln City littering the path to the Promised Land, potential investors took Sage advice to keep their coin and counsel, meaning Ross’s P45 was inevitable. Now, having been turned down by Mark Robins and with Gareth Ainsworth’s caprices blowing in the wind like his flaxen locks, the reality is they might have to give it to Bally, which will appeal to the Billy Charltons of this world I would imagine.

Meanwhile, a couple of events in the calendar caused uproar during the week just gone. I’m talking about World Mental Health Day on Thursday 10^th and Non League Day on Saturday 12^th, both of which had intransigent zealots, who simply can’t recognise their actual enemies, barking at well-meaning outsiders who supported the two events for being tokenist dilettantes.  It’s no secret I’ve been engaged in a continuous battle with my mental health for getting on 40 years now. I’ve also pointed out that being mentally ill in the current era, even if the cuts to the NHS have decimated the kind of care so many of us need on a regular basis, whether that be residential or therapeutic, is far easier than 25 years ago. People listen. People care. People try to understand. Ordinary, everyday people; your friends, your family, your workmates. I’m glad that is the case and I’d not spend an afternoon haranguing someone who has volunteered as a Mental Health Champion in the workplace for not understanding the precise nature of my condition and why nothing is being done for me. It isn’t their fault and I’d be more than grateful for their support. The care of my pals in 2015 kept me alive when others were trying to push me towards suicide. I can never repay them. In the same way, the interested onlooker who takes in a grassroots game at a level they’re unfamiliar with has to be thanked for the pie, pint, programme, badge and admission they purchased. It is £15 a club wouldn’t have had otherwise.

Think about abortive our trip to Brandon United in the League Cup on Wednesday 9^th. This is part of the group stage of the Northern League Cup, introduced so clubs have more games and, theoretically, more income from the competition. Brandon had endured 2 waterlogged postponements before this game, so were yet to make a seasonal debut in the competition. When we approached the ground, including the only Benfield fan who would be paying entry, the pitch was in semi-darkness. Some local scumbags have taken to shooting the floodlight bulbs with air rifles, for what gratification I do not understand. As the lines were undistinguishable from the touch line on one side, the referee had to call the game off.  Here is a club, Northern League Champions in 2002-2003, who are on the bones of their arse, constantly battling relegation, vandalism and community disinterest, suffering a financial blow from this postponement; zero income from gate, bar or bait, but all the officials to pay and another midweek to rearrange. This is where Non League Day isn’t enough and where Corbyn’s plans for football really do strike a chord. All support is appreciated, but hard cash is what is needed.

Then again, Non League Day at Benfield was a massive success, despite the fact my resignation statement still hasn’t made it in to the programme, which also lacked any show of gratitude to the devoted service I put into the most important thing in my life. Anyway, not only did we attract Harry Pearson to our game, a cracking 4-3 win over Northallerton, but also the Newcastle University Non League Society, who recognise and respect our club for the asset of community value is undoubtedly is. Thanks to all of them for coming down, as well as the 250 Cumbrians up the road.