Free Jazz

 I'm still going to games; Whitley Bay SC 2 Chemfica Amateurs 7 last week & Ellington 0 Stobswood Welfare 3 this week -:

Last week, I was in a state of high dudgeon at the NEPL’s dreadful decision to prevent all spectators from seeing Tynemouth 2s in the Banks Bowl Plate final away to Willington. Instead, I had decided to tick off another of the half a dozen unvisited Northern Alliance grounds on my hit list. Seaton Sluice versus West Jesmond was the intended destination, until news came on Friday afternoon of a late postponement, as one of the West Jesmond lads had tested positive for Covid-19. With no realistic hoppable alternatives, the chance of seeing my pal Matty Leadbetter vaping on the touchline for Chemfica Amateurs away to Whitley Bay Sporting Club at Churchill Playing Fields was my only option, though my thoughts were mainly concentrated on events in Willington.

Normally, Tynemouth Cricket Club take a cynical, luddite view of modern scoring technology; live updates on Play Cricket are not normally available, for reasons of principle. However, Willington, despite their remote location, are fans of modernity and presented a ball by ball update on the final game of the strangest and shortest season ever.  Willington batted first and made a par score of 164 from their 40 overs. Williams, Brown and Blackmore all topped 30 but some steady bowling and keen fielding from all of the Tynemouth players held the home team in check. Opening bowler, the bronzed Adonis James Carr took 4/31 from his 8 overs, while skipper Andrew Davison, whose brother Mark conceded a penalty in the opening minute to see Chemfica go a goal down, bowled very tidily with 1/19 off his 8.

In reply 15 year old Dan Thorburn and 16 year old Patrick Hallam began steadily before opening up to build a terrific partnership of 85 for the first wicket before Dan was caught for an excellent 43. Patrick was out soon after for a well-made 32 but then a minor collapse saw us reduced to 135/6. At this point, broadband in the West Durham area must have suffered an outage, as the score wasn’t updated until the following Tuesday. After about an hour of nervous pacing and futile refreshing, news came through that 16 year olds Joe Snowdon, playing with an old head on young shoulders, and Evan Hull Denholm, rock solid at the other end, had seen us home with an undefeated 30 run partnership. Congratulations to those who played and to those who helped get us there in previous rounds. Whilst there were no spectators allowed to enjoy it and no real opportunity for the players to celebrate in the usual way, the half dozen over the age of 18 anyway, nothing should detract from a fine victory nor the outstanding contributions from a clutch of young players who performed well when it mattered. It was a deserved victory and a good way to end the 2020 season. I just wish I’d been able to see it.

Meanwhile, Chemfica Amateurs bounced back from that early blow to take the lead with a couple of well taken tap-ins from pleasing passing moves. Whitley Bay Sporting didn’t react well to this misfortune and almost immediately compounded their task by going down to 10 when one of their players was red carded for an unnecessary and petulant, though wholly unsuccessful attempt at kicking an opponent. It did nothing to turn this game in to an edifying contest, as Chemfica scored at will and completed an emphatic, but ultimately unsatisfying, 7-2 win, to the delight of the assembled throng of 16 or so, including passing dog walkers, a family kicking a penny floater about, a brace of furtively courting teenage sweethearts, and a trio of recuperating cyclists.  Clearly, the public assembly of such an unruly and dangerous mob of ambulant viral infections was the main reason why North Tyneside and Northumberland Public Health Areas are displaying a terrifying dozen or so cases of the Miley Cyrus at the minute.

I’m not a virus denying, swivel-eyed loon, like David Broadmoor or Jamie Tinfoil, but I absolutely and unreservedly condemn the appalling curbs, recently imposed on my liberty by the criminals in power and their lickspittle collaborators in the town halls of our region. I don’t know how many times I’ve said this, but it bears repeating; since the Cummings Episode, the Tories have ceded all moral right to any imposition of restrictions on the behaviour of citizens. Despite their unconvincing rhetoric about safety and stuff like that, all the Tories are interested in is preserving the interests of capitalism. This is why factories, offices and schools are open; keep them at work to maximise profits and keep the bairns under observation to maximise attendance. Fuck the health considerations; let’s make lots of money by exploiting workers. Not only that, but the bars are being shut down early and attendance at sporting events prohibited to stop citizens socialising in an era of dissent.  Keeping students, the stormy petrels of youth, under illegal house arrest, is the evidence we live in a fascist police state. Comrades, let us seize the time…

 

Anyway, in this context of social repression, the idiocy of those involved in the charity game at Fencehouses that resulted in 300 plus Covid infections would inevitably result in ostentatious, public repression. While Nick Forbes squealed and sobbed loud enough to ensure Newcastle was seen as the most willingly compliant, quisling council, actually welcoming this latest wholly unnecessary, repressive lockdown, the Durham FA’s John Topping maintained his reputation as a Machiavellian, back room operator who can peel oranges in his pocket with a boxing glove on, by drawing up a document that seemed to be not so much a response to a second wave, but a blueprint for football under Martial Law. Zero debate with local leagues was allowed; compliance was compulsory and the Northumberland FA, still smarting from the Clive Oliver debacle, willingly signed up to the worst infringement of my personal liberty I’ve ever been forced to ignore. Here’s an extract from the document that Topping forced the NFA, Northern League, Northern Alliance and Wearside League, not to mention a myriad number of recreational leagues, to adhere to -:

National League System Steps 3 – 6

-          Spectator numbers must not exceed 15% of the minimum ground grading capacity.

-          All spectators should wear face coverings at all times, as stated in line with government advice

All Adult Football Outside of the National League System

-          No spectators at training or matches.

 

Let’s not kid ourselves; this is utterly ludicrous, not to mention completely unnecessary. For a start, any pub, restaurant or shop that isn’t dying on its arse will have more punters than your average Northern Alliance game, Killingworth v Blue Star excepted, in any 90-minute period. Secondly, the number of Alliance teams who play on public parks, or afford unhindered viewing from an adjacent location, is almost certainly in the vast majority. Whose responsibility is it to police these restrictions? The home club’s Covid-19 officer? The referee? The local flatties, who should be out dealing with real criminals without masks in the local Spar? Finally, what on earth is the point of a face mask on the touchline of an open air, uncovered Alliance pitch? Be realistic; it must be nigh on impossible for the virus to stay in one place to create infections when Force 10 gales batter exposed football pitches from all angles.

Consequently, having selected Ellington v Stobswood Welfare in Alliance Division 2, I thought I’d be sure it would be possible to actually see the game. So, using my writer and journalist credentials, I contacted Ellington, who could not have been more helpful and hospitable. A conversation took place via Twitter and, despite the ferocious downpours of Wednesday and Thursday, the pitch was pronounced immaculate and I set off on Saturday morning, a mere 3 and a half hours before kick-off. With the Metro having one of its rest weekends between Tynemouth and Shiremoor, I walked to Shields and took a train to Monument. It was Record Store Day (Albums), so I nipped into the original indie paradise, JG Windows, to lash out a scandalous £30 on Dinosaur Jr’s Swedish Fist; a live album, recorded in Stockholm. No doubt I’ll discuss it at length in a later blog.

To get to Ellington from Haymarket, the hourly X20 is the best bet. In fact, it’s the only bet. The journey up to Ashington is standard stuff, but once we head out past Woodhorn Museum, I’m in uncharted territory. The old Lynemouth Biomass Power Station is as scenic as ever; a grey concrete sentinel, whose enormity almost masks the world effects of the gusting winds that howl in from Norway. Fringed by caravan and motor home storage facilities, Lynemouth serves as a warm-up act for Ellington. I disembark a mere 40 minutes before kick-off and struggle to fill the time. When the wind blows, it is freezing; those rare seconds when it abates are warm and temperate.

Having spotted the sign for Ellington FC, I take an unfinished road, past the edge of an estate too new for Google maps, winding round unused fields to the entrance. Ten yards on, I check in with the NHS Covid app, sanitise my hands and cast a glance round the facilities. My goodness, this is an impressive facility; loomed over by a dozen enormous wind turbines that spin like a Sopwith Camel propellers before take-off in a grainy, First World War newsreel, it boasts: a full-size floodlit 4G pitch, a small-sided grass pitch and two full-sized ones, the main of which has been furnished with a solid, wooden, perimeter fence, ideal for leaning your elbows on. It would have been a great place to balance my notebook to write down pithy anecdotes, except it was so cold I had Thinsulate gloves on, making the manipulation of a pen somewhat difficult.

Thankfully there is very little to write about during the game. To clarify, there is no lack of effort, but the hurricane that gusts across the pitch ruins all attempts at fluent football. It is a raw-boned, red-toothed Northumbrian derby, where constant volleys of the F word, for both emphasis and in anger, swirl and fly off into the vast beyond at speed. Neither keeper is forced into a serious save in the first half before Stobswood captain Jake Baker sweeps in a loose ball on the edge of the box in the 43^rd minute. I can concede that Stobswood play with a fraction more finesse than the home side, whose endeavours are inspired by an admirable esprit de corps.

 

When the whistle goes for the break, the players stay out, discussing tactics in a tight huddle, while I nip off for a loo break, regretting my choice of short trousers as I appear to have frostbite of the shin. The clubhouse and changing room is covered of proud posters, exhorting us to #HallaElla. I must admit I’d hoped their nickname was the Dukes, or the Fitzgeralds, but I see no references to trad, bebop, cool or any other style of Jazz, perhaps predictably.

By the time I get back to my pitch side eyrie, Costello has doubled the Stobby lead. Fair play to Ellington, they respond positively to such misfortune. The home side never stop and push their visitors back for the rest of the second period, but without tangible success. Instead, Stobswood wrap things up with a quick break and eye-catching finish in the last minute. Soon after, the whistle blows and I half hobble, stiff-legged and frozen, for the bus. A great day, but not a great game; I’d love to come back if the weather is ever better.

 

Next week, I had hoped to visit Wooler with Chemfica Amateurs, but Matty has opted to go on the gargle for his birthday, so I’ll have to beg either Rothbury or Whitburn to allow me a safe watching berth. Five grounds to go and the NHS app tells me I’m safe.