Thursday 29 December 2022

Winter Summary

And here we are at the end of another year, so it’s time for me to run the rule over the final few books and sounds I’ve come across, as well as listing all I’ve heard and seen during 2022. As ever, and I don’t know why this is, I’ve not done the same for the books I’ve read. Perhaps I will do next year. Certainly, I wish I could do more to recognise the achievements in print of Jim Gibson, Michael Keenaghan, David Keenan and Harry Pearson.

One important difference from previous years is that I’ve not placed the music I’ve consumed in rank order. For many years I’ve felt that gigs should be listed in that way, as the experience of live music is one highly dependent on many factors detached from the quality of music itself: venue, audience, security, company, and other variables. Hence, I’ve now decided to list gigs chronologically and releases alphabetically, as I’m acutely aware of the effort that goes into producing music, so I do not have the right to pass judgement on people who create sounds for the betterment of human culture. This is especially true as I’ve tentatively dipped my toe back into the waters of musical creativity, as well as the written word.

That said, it is an incontrovertible truth that Glasgow has always been one of the greatest cities for producing music, whether the musicians resident there are Scottish women, Irish American women or blokes from Leeds, as I’m sure Alex, Debbie and Jill would agree. It’s a great place to see gigs as well, whether that’s in a huge ballroom in the East End with a Quebecois post rock nonet deafening 2,000 beguiled devotees or a power trio of two local fellas and an Irish American genius laying waste to a snug cellar up the West End. You hear what I’m saying…



2022 Releases:

Burd Ellen – A Tarot of the Green Wood

Essential Logic – Land of Kali

Freakons – Freakons

Jill Lorean – This Rock

Posset – Fresh Like Irish Moss (given away free at 19 August gig)

Alex Rex – Mouthful of Earth

Sea Power – Everything was Forever

Soundcarriers – Waves

Swell Maps – 6 Track Ep (given away free with Jowe Head book)

Wire – Not About to Die


Earlier Releases:

Audiac – So Waltz

Bailey, Bevan, Hession, Yoshihide – Good Cop, Bad Cop

Bardo Pond – Bufo Alvarius

Bartholomew – Umami Music

Dementiol 3 – Last Test

Sandy Denny – Gold Dust

Herb Diamante and Friends – A Spoonful of Yeast

Godspeed You! Black Emperor – Lift Yr Skinny Fists like Antennas to Heaven

Godspeed You! Black Emperor – Slow Riot for Zero New Kanada

Godspeed You! Black Emperor – Yanqui U.X.O.

Mekons - Exquisite

Mogwai – Central Belters

The One Ensemble Orchestra – Other Thunders

Craig Scott’s Lobotomy – War is a Racket

Shunyata Improvisation Group - Balances

Shunyata Improvisation Group – Pivot Moments

Snowgoose – The Making of You

Various – Bring My Love to Connemara


2022 Gigs:

March 19: Shunyata Improvisation Group, Holy Name, Ryton

April 2: Teenage Fanclub, Beckett University, Leeds

April 15: Band of Holy Joy, The Engine Room, North Shields

April 30: Wedding Present, Boiler Shop, Newcastle

May 13: Shunyata Improvisation Group, Cobalt Studios, Newcastle

May 31: Jill Lorean, Hug & Pint, Glasgow

June 10: Shunyata Improvisation Group, Lit & Phil, Newcastle

July 10: Shunyata Improvisation Group, Saltwell Park, Gateshead

August 6: Sea Power, Crescent Club, Cullercoats

August 19: Posset, Lit & Phil, Newcastle

September 2: Ball Peen, Anarchy Brewery, Newcastle

September 18: Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Barrowlands, Glasgow

September 26: Snowgoose, The Engine Room, North Shields

September 30: Adam Johnson, Lit & Phil, Newcastle

October 14: Culver & Molar Crime, Bound Books, Whitley Bay

October 15: Dave Johns, The Stand, Newcastle

November 2: Bartholomew, The Globe, Newcastle

November 12: The Wedding Present, Gosforth Civic, Newcastle

November 19: Shunyata Improvisation Group, Shieldfield Centre, Newcastle

December 22: Bartholomew, John Marley Centre, Newcastle

 

My 2022 Gigs:

May 13: Escape, with Shunyata Improvisation Group, Cobalt Studios

August 2: Open Mic night, The Engine Room

August 19: TQ2, Lit & Phil, as BARTHOLOMEW / cusack

November 18: Just This, with Shunyata Improvisation Group, Shieldfield Centre

Now we turn to the final tranche of books and bands I’ve encountered at the back end of the year just ending.


Books:

Remarkably, I’ve finally finished Monument Maker by David Keenan. It was a tough ask, ploughing through 760 pages, but a rewarding one. Like reading Ulysses, it works best when you realise it isn’t one book, but several different ones combined. As a devotee of Keenan’s work, I’m delighted I can say I got through it, but for enjoyment purposes, I much preferred London is Dead by Michael Keenaghan. I first came across Michael as a fellow contributor in the same small press magazines that were publishing me. Along with Jim Gibson, who I also have praised here, as well as publishing the two of them in glove, Michael has now made it into print on his own. London is Dead is a distillation of the Keenaghan oeuvre in extremis: a violent, brutal and decidedly unsentimental portrait of the gangs of London, east and north west, present and past, and the strict, inflexible amoral codes they live by. The characters are real, the plot is credible and the narration rips along at breakneck pace. This is a real page turner and should be made into a film ASAP. I’m absolutely delighted Michael has been able to get a book in print as I’ve been saying for years, Michael Keenaghan is the finest underground prose writer in this country. He means it man.

At completely the other end of the scale, I adored Frank O’Connor’s Short Stories, Volume 2, transplanting myself to Cork city in the 1940s and 1950s, where the fallout from the War of Independence and The Emergency influenced life in a way that the already declining powers of the Church did not. We meet so many good people, trapped in failed marriages, whose ambitions and aspirations are hampered at every turn by thick priests, blustering schoolmasters and scheming local dignitaries that you’d think we’d dropped by on a Jack Lynch constituency surgery. An esoteric but delightful pleasure.

Same could be said of Harry Pearson’s latest wonderful cricket book. First of the Summer Wine is a detailed and devoted paean to three of Yorkshire CCC’s greatest players of the Golden Age, telling the lives and achievements of Schofield Haigh, George Herbert Hirst and Wilfred Rhodes. In exhaustive detail, we learn of the rise of The Triumvirate, as they were known, from local club cricket around the village of Kirkheaton near Huddersfield, to Ashes winning tours, multiple County Championship triumphs and a volume of cricket scarcely credible in these times. It, as ever, is told in Harry’s inimitable informative, but gentle style. How different I’d imagine David Peace’s tome about Boycott, close, Illingworth et al, will prove to be.

Music:

It has been an absolute pleasure to see Shunyata Improvisation Group on five separate occasions in 2022, during which time they have become one of my very favourite bands in the world. The last time I saw them this year was on Saturday 18 November at the Newbridge Project in the Shieldfield Centre, as part of a day long workshop entitled Just This; Between Zen and the Arts. I’ll just reinforce that date; I chose to spend a Saturday afternoon away from the playing fields of the Northern Alliance and in a community centre, attending several workshops and performances. This is how important things involved in this debate were to me, and to Shelley, who accompanied me.

First off, Shunyata’s Martin Donkin, the poet Alex Reed and the artist Catherine Dee introduced the topic. From my perspective, Martin was the person I was keen on listening to. He explained that his intent on forming the first iteration of Shunyata was to interpret the teachings of secular Buddhist philosopher Stephen Bachelor in terms of music. Bachelor’s credo is contained in the mnemonic ELSA -:

E – Embrace reality

L – Let go of your first response

S – Stop to think before responding

A – Answer in a positive way

In short, Martin sought to declutter his practice in the Tyneside free improvisation scene, by providing a space free from loud, chaotic or unconsidered elements. By removing unnecessary colour and noise, it provides a more inclusive atmosphere that embraces co-operative aesthetics. Bachelor, and obviously Shunyata, emphasise that the result must always be a failure to remain true to aesthetics, but the whole point is to fail better. I learned this for myself by taking part in the Shunyata workshop, while Shelley attended Alex Reed’s poetry workshop. My experience was of participating in two improvisations, each of 10 minutes in length, where the point was to adhere to the Shunyata style, where each player should be sensitive to the need to play distinctly and quietly, to display meditative and reflective restraint, offering stretches of emptiness. I thoroughly enjoyed cradling an acoustic guitar and looking to intervene where I could. Everyone in the room similarly responded. Well, apart from the bloke who’d brought his tenor sax and mini Hammond organ, who seemed keen on recreating the greatest hits of Weather Report and didn’t really get the purpose of the day.

After a vegan lunch, we settled down for a performance by Shunyata, with Alex Reed reciting poetry in certain parts. While I was already familiar with the poetry of love and loss Reed composed after his wife’s death, this was the most moving and spiritual I’ve ever heard Shunyata. NofC’s ability to make his accordion breathe like an elderly relative is enough to make you weep with nostalgia. Over the years I’ve seen bands booed off and bottled off, but I’ve never come across a band being drowned out by a snoring punter, but that’s what we had here. Shelley and I saw it through to the end, enjoying the wonderful stringed work and percussive genius of Shunyata at their absolute peak, but it was a gruelling day and I’m not sure if I’d volunteer for a full day’s entertainment again. I also picked up a CD by Craig Scott’s Lobotomy called War is a Racket, that was available for a donation. I’m not sure about the veracity of the title, but the music contained within is a terrible racket that breaks every one of the Shunyata style tips, as well as your windows if you play it loud enough.

There are plenty of opportunities for interested observers to see Shunyata live on Saturday afternoons between 1 and 3 at The Globe, in a series of concerts that will explore the 7 Zen Aesthetic principles throughout 2023. I’ll almost certainly be at football or cricket on all of these dates, but for the interested observer, here are the dates -:

1.    Asymmetry (Not adhering to perfection).  Saturday 14 January. Support: Thomas Dixon   

2.    Non-attachment (Open minded and detached, being without any form completes every form). Saturday 11 March. Support: Tobias Sarra.

3.    Naturalness (Artless in its natural form, without pretence). Saturday 29 April. Support: Molar Crime.

4.    Simplicity (Not complicated or gaudy). Saturday 24 June. Support: Mobius.

5.    Silence (Limitless Silence, the inward-looking Mind). Saturday 9 September.

Support: Richard Scott

6.    Wizened Austerity (Solitary, dignified like an old tree). Saturday 11 November. Support: Paul Taylor

7.    Profound Subtlety (A hidden memory lingering deep inside, limitless implications).

Saturday 9 December. Support: Katie Oswell.

 


The other gig I’ve been to of late was my sometime musical partner Chris’s Christmas performance, as Bartholomew, at the John Marley Centre in Scotswood. This is where Chris has his rehearsal and recording space and a crowd of 8 humans and a dog assembled on Thursday 22 December, for eats, beats and bevvy. Flurries begins proceedings, involving Chris crushing and then tearing pieces of A4 paper. I’m not sure if they were lined or unlined, but it was absolutely delightful to see. Just a shame more of the glitterati of the much vaunted North East no-audience underground couldn’t manage to turn up. I mean, I was even wearing a Stone Island coat, but I was there. Universe features percussion and plaintive trumpet, like a sombre Mariachi. In Like A Lion has elements of mental, headache-inducing free jazz and random harsh beats, as well as more trumpet. It’ll be on his new album, and I can’t wait to hear it.  

Looking into 2023, there’s a TQ live event at the Lit & Phil on 20 January 2023, when Breather, Firas Khnaisser and Culver perform. The Saturday after that sees Chris Bartholomew and Faye McCalman host a Tyneside Improvisers Workshop at Ye Olde Cross pub in Ryton, between 2pm and 4pm, followed by a TQ and NofC curated Auntie Joy event at the Holy Cross Church opposite, when Christian Alderson, Faye McCalman, Sally Pilkington, Sally Pope, Holy Cross Bell Ringers and Tyneside Improvisers provide “secular sounds in a sacred space,” between 4.30 and 7.00. I’m intending to head along to this after Ryton & Crawcrook Albion v Billingham Town.

The other live event I’ve got tickets for is Mogwai at the Sage on Sunday 13 February. I’m really looking forward to this one and managed to plug a lot of holes in my Mogwai collection by getting hold of the triple CD retrospective set Central Belters. Starting with Summer and Helicon, by way of Mogwai Fear Satan, The Sun Smells Too Loud and I’m Jim Morrison I’m Dead, before finishing with the impeccable ear crusher, My Father, My King, it is over 200 minutes of brutal brilliance. Really can’t wait to see them again.

I’ve never seen Essential Logic live and I wonder if I ever will. Currently I’m content enough with the release of their first album in 43 years, Land of Kali, that is a tremendous pot-boiling stew of dub, white Rasta skank, late 70s electronica and indie funk. You could be on Ladbroke Grove in the early days of the counter culture’s opposition to Thatcher. It’s a marvellous, happy album, where Lora’s seemingly unbroken Krishna belief system doesn’t grate too much. I really prefer how her music has developed compared to William Bennett’s. It’s wonderful to have her back.

And that’s it. All the best for 2023 everyone. I’m hoping to release some music and publish some words myself. Exciting huh?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wednesday 21 December 2022

Cold & Qatar

 My World Cup blog...


And so it came to pass, the first World Cup finals tournament to be held during the European winter, in a Muslim country, that began amidst mass indifference from most football enthusiasts, augmented by hand-wringing whataboutery from the likes of Emily Bishop’s son, alongside other members of the Fourth Estate, most of whom were being put up in 5 star hotels in Qatar on limitless expense accounts, courtesy of their employers, abetted by fellow travelling, wannabe social media influencers, some of whom like Denver Humbert had actually once been paid employees of the House of Saud, whose personal axes were being ground in a thoroughly mendacious manner, ended in almost universal acclamation for the greatest final in the competition’s history, with the finest player of all time lifting the trophy and possibly the biggest helmet ever to play the game waggling a garish golden glove like it was a Tralfamadorian strap-on.

Alongside such brainless, brilliant or bizarre events, we must not forget the lives lost in the building of the stadia and staging of the tournament, nor the fate of those migrant workers left behind in a state of semi servility in locked camps in Qatar, but the sheer weight of compassion fatigue engendered by the incessant virtue signalling by the likes of Denver Humbert and his pals, creates a kind of numbed indifference to the whole grotesque carnival in the minds of those of us still free to think beyond Shachtmanite parameters. What did these idiots think about tournaments such as Argentina 1978, Brazil 2014 or Russia 2018? Didn’t the sordid track records of human rights abuses by those three grisly regimes deserve being held under the microscope? For those who simply can’t let this topic go, David Squires, as ever, summed things up in the best manner possible with his latest Guardian cartoon -: https://www.theguardian.com/football/ng-interactive/2022/dec/20/david-squires-on-a-salty-end-to-qatar-world-cup

The 2022 World Cup saw 64 games over 29 days, involving 172 goals scored by 32 teams, all of whom lost at least one game during the tournament. Here is how I saw things unfold, sometimes in front of a screen, for 35 games and sometimes not, for the other 29.

Day 1: Ecuador 2 Qatar 0

Things kicked off with the mouth-watering prospect of seeing the host country, whose timid take on the beautiful game reminded me of a division 1 League of Ireland side doing their best to avoid physical contact at all costs, being wholly dismantled by a thoroughly mediocre Ecuadorian outfit. Bang average former Everton and West Ham non-entity Enner Valencia put himself about like Joe Jordan on steroids, scoring both and being denied a hat trick by nonsensical a VAR decision. Perhaps the most entertaining part of the second half was seeing the stands empty rapidly, as if part of a secret or silent fire drill.

Day 2: England 6 Iran 2

Netherlands 2 Senegal 0

USA 1 Wales 1

The fact the World Cup took place in Qatar precluded the usual tidal wave of snarling, pissed-up, middle aged sub-human detritus in remaindered Belstaff jackets from throwing patio furniture around scenic, medieval town squares. Instead, the media focus, that inexplicably veered between the censorious and obsequious in tone, was on the refusal of FIFA to allow captains to wear rainbow armbands, for fear of upsetting Qatar and the state’s institutional homophobia. While still feeling a little surprised that the legacy of Harvey Milk is being maintained by the Alan Turing Loyal, I was pleased that England, inspired by their wholly decent manager Gareth Southgate, decided to take the knee before kick-off, even if their execution of the gesture was a little ragged to say the least. What actually impressed me the most was the endless booing of the Iranian anthem by their own fans. Rather than cloaking their rampant Islamophobia behind a so-called desire for human rights, the No Saudi Toon clownshoes and their simpleton followers from Ready to Go ought to stand with the Iranian working class who have had enough of the repressive fundamentalist regime in that country. Sadly, that won’t get them many retweets or invites to appear on pitiful podcasts, so they don’t bother.

Never has working from home been cushier than during this tournament; tucked beneath a duvet on the sofa, I felt the pain of the Iranian keeper with the enormous sneck when his bugle got battered. No wonder he had to go off; it was just a shame his replacement appeared to be some random bloke from the crowd as a surprisingly assertive England banged in half a dozen. Callum Wilson proved himself to be the bigger man by passing to Grealish for a tap-in, in a gesture that showed the West Midlands Roger Casement has been forgiven for his thoughtless jibe at Miggy at the end of last season. As for the other England players with a Newcastle connection, Trippier was woeful and Pope surely has to come in for Pickford following his calamitous involvement in both Iran goals.

Following that crazy goal fest, things calmed down with the Netherlands seeing off an unimpressive Senegal. This showed that if a game is particularly dire, you can always nip into the back bedroom to do some work from home, especially when Senegal didn’t have the desire to score and, until half time at least, the Netherlands didn’t have the wit, much to Van Gaal’s chagrin. I headed out to play 6-a-side and missed the two late goals that decided this encounter. After an 8-4 victory under lights, on the 4G up the West Road, I did my usual weekly shop in Sainsbury’s, getting home just in time to see the Ronaldo of the Valleys win and then convert the penalty that denied the Great Satan a victory. The quality of the game was poor, which sort of invalidated my theory that football at this World Cup would be of a higher standard than the usual borefest, as most of the players would be fresh as only a quarter of a season had gone, rather than playing it at the end of a gruelling campaign.

Day 3: Argentina 1 Saudi Arabia 2

Denmark 0 Tunisia 0

Mexico 0 Poland 0

Australia 1 France 4

Despite the shock result of the early game, I think this was a good day to work from the office. At this stage in the tournament, I desperately wanted Saudi Arabia to do well, not just because their shirts are modelled on Newcastle’s third kit, but because of the endless small-minded, mendacious sniping at the country, which is a murderous cesspit I think we can all agree, as a way to have a dig at Newcastle United, especially by hypocritical former employees of the House of Saud like Denver Humbert. The fact is, Saudi Arabia aren’t a bad side and I’d imagine we’ll probably end up with a couple of Saudi squad players at SJP in the near future, which will be no bad thing if they can play quick, one-touch football like their national side.

I got home from work in good time to see the France game, which was the best of the tournament so far, whereby the plucky Antipodean SPFL Select XI took a glorious lead, before Les Bleus ground their faces into the desert sand. So often teams that begin the tournament like an express train run quickly out of steam, but it was clear from the outset that to beat France to the title, it would require a side to touch celestial levels of genius, or for the reigning champions to implode viciously. Quite impressively, the latter speciality of those wonderfully funny Raymond Domenech years was never a threat.

Day 4: Croatia 0 Morocco 0

Germany 1 Japan 2

Costa Rica 0 Spain 7

Belgium 1 Canada 0

Another somnolent start to the day, spent again in the office, meaning of the 4 games I’d missed by this point, 3 were goalless bores. I do wish I’d seen Japan come out on top in the Axis Trophy though, but instead I got in for the most vicious Spanish assault on Central America since 1519. It was an utterly marvellous display of attacking football, which made one wonder why they so maddeningly insisted on retreating to their shells in subsequent games. At this point, only France looked like they could hold a candle to them, but appearances can be deceptive. They weren’t in Belgium or Canada’s cases; the latter couldn’t score and the former looked uninspired and jaded. Neither of them impressed me in the slightest, which would continue to be the case in later games.

Day 5: Cameroon 0 Switzerland 1

South Korea 0 Uruguay 0

Ghana 2 Portugal 3

Brazil 2 Serbia 0

The first two and a half games were the epitome of the kind of laboured, prosaic, conservative football that blights so many major tournaments for the neutral observer, making games, that consist mainly of play acting and time wasting, more of an ordeal than a spectacle. Then suddenly, after an opening period of stupefying inanity, Ghana v Portugal exploded into an orgy of attacking football and woeful defending. Of course it had to be the arrogant arsehole free agent at the centre of things, didn’t it? After 45 (or 52 more accurately) breathless minutes, the following clash of the great democracies was a bit of a damp squib at first, I have to say, but once Brazil got in their stride, they were impressive.

So, all 32 teams had played a game at this point, with Brazil, England, France and Spain looking genuinely impressive. Qatar were clearly the worst team, even if Costa Rica shipped 7, but the likes of Poland and Belgium didn’t exactly bring much to the table either.

Day 6: Iran 2 Wales 0

Qatar 2 Senegal 3

Ecuador 1 Netherlands 1

England 0 USA 0

Now, this was a proper day of football, or at least the first 75% of it was. The second half of Iran v Wales saw an absolute fiesta of Farsi fantasy football, with by far the better team running out comfortable winners. I pondered whether Robert Page is nicknamed Jimmy Plant by Bron-Yr-Aur Stomp loving Welsh longhairs; those of us who remember Budgie and Man will know that there were plenty around back in the day. Even more thought provoking was the erotic asphyxiation celebration indulged in by breath control enthusiasts Carlos Queiroz and Sardar Azmoun after the second goal went in. Perhaps Qatar’s sexual morality laws aren’t quite as ferociously repressive as we’d been led to believe…

The Qatar v Senegal contest saw two of the hitherto most passive sides in the competition giving it a real go, though the hosts still belied their distaste for heading, tackling and indeed all physical aspects of the game. One good thing, they didn’t have far to go home after becoming the first side to exit the tournament. The Dutch showed their propensity for self-implosion by throwing away a winning position against a half-decent Ecuador side and then England v USA proved to be the worst waste of a Friday night in living memory, being dross from start to finish in that typical, nauseating, timid way we’ve been so long accustomed to.

Day 7: Australia 1 Tunisia 0

Poland 2 Saudi Arabia 0

Denmark 1 France 2

Argentina 2 Mexico 0

Up early on a Saturday to see Australia win it with a great goal, I ducked out of the Poland v Newcastle United XI game, heading off to the Newbiggin v Percy Main game at Hirst Welfare in Ashington. As we lost 4-1, you’d think I’d made the wrong choice. Well, I don’t think I did, as seeing football in the flesh is far more important to me than seeing it on telly. And, in my opinion, the Northern Alliance is better than the World Cup anyway. My match report from the PMA game can be read here, if you so desire it -: https://payaso-de-mierda.blogspot.com/2022/12/cold-comforts.html

I got back just in time to see France’s second half performance, but as we had a night out planned, the Argentina game was only viewed courtesy of brief highlights via the BBC website. To be honest, I’d been more intrigued by the FA Cup 2nd round ties taking place that day; Kings Lynn v Stevenage, Forest Green Rovers v Alvechurch and Clyde v Dumbarton in the Scottish Cup; that’s the sort of stuff I should have watched live, but sadly didn’t.

Day 8: Costa Rica 1 Japan 0

Belgium 0 Morocco 2

Canada 1 Croatia 4

Germany 1 Spain 1

Frankly, this day saw my worst performance of the tournament. Still afflicted by strong drink, I slept through the first game, which was described as the worst of the tournament, then missed most of the second having a haircut (only my 3rd since 2015 incidentally, and all in the last 6 months), though I did catch Courtois playing his part in Belgium’s catastrophic disintegration. As well as keeping an eye on Ebbsfleet v Fleetwood and Newport v Derby in the FA Cup, I did see Canada take the lead, before promptly falling asleep and waking to see a slight turnaround in fortunes in that game. I managed to stay awake through Germany v Spain, but rather wished I hadn’t. The penny was beginning to drop; it was clear that Spain weren’t all they were cracked up to be.

Day 9: Cameroon 3 Serbia 3

Ghana 3 South Korea 2

Brazil 1 Switzerland 0

Portugal 2 Uruguay 0

The last of the 4 consecutive game days, saw all 32 nations having played 2 games at the end of it. The opening two encounters on this day, saw a pair of absolutely mental, hell-for-leather contests, played with the handbrake off. It was great to see teams just going for it, almost as if they accepted that the whole purpose of a World Cup is not to line the pockets of Infantino and his pals, but to celebrate football by trying to score goals, not holding on to possession for dear life to strangle the will to live from the opposition. By contrast, the Brazil game was a little more staid, though I did enjoy seeing Bruno on the pitch. It being a Monday, I ducked out of the last game in order to play 6-a-side. I feel it was the right choice as seeing Ronaldo up against Suarez, two of the nastiest specimens ever to play the game, was not something that appealed on any level. Coming home from football, I was overjoyed to find Ayr United v Pollok on BBC Scotland in the SFA Cup, as I identified more with the level of play, ground and atmosphere than with the World Cup. Ayr won incidentally.

Day 10: Ecuador 1 Senegal 2

Netherlands 2 Qatar 0

England 3 Wales 0

Iran 0 USA 1

I was in the office, so saw nothing of the first two games. The only feeling I had was a degree of sadness for Ecuador going out as they’d given it a good go in their first two games. For the later game, I actually ventured out to the pub, watching it in The Lochside with Tom, who’d decided watching it in his local in Leith may not have been the most positive of atmospheres. While the pub was busy, it certainly didn’t have the numbers it draws for an average NUFC game, nor indeed the passion. To be honest, it would have been more fun watching it in Tiger Bay or Llanfairpwllgwyngyll, as Wales comprehensively demonstrated that only Qatar and Canada were worse sides than them, as England pulled them to bits in the second period. Sadly, in the contest of the 2 Islamic Republics, USA beat Iran and so advanced to the next stage. It was good fun going out to watch a game, but I couldn’t see myself doing it again for other fixtures in the tournament. Too bloody cold for starters…

Day 11: Australia 1 Denmark 0

France 0 Tunisia 1

Argentina 2 Poland 0

Mexico 1 Saudi Arabia 2

Another day of deskbound drudgery caused me to miss a pair of engrossing early games, where the surprising results enabled Australia to make it through to the next stage. After work, the necessity of heading to town to run some errands meant I only made it back in time to see the second half of the Argentina game. Mexico become the first side I’d not seen kick a ball as they lost to Newcastle United XI, who tragically didn’t make it through to the next stage. Instead Poland, who are by a long chalk the worst of the remaining 16 sides in the tournament, somehow, shamefully crept through to the knock out stage. It must have been particularly upsetting for former House of Saud employee Denver Humbert, as he turned 61 on this day. All the best to him and his 7 mates.

Day 12: Belgium 0 Croatia 0

Canada 1 Morocco 2

Costa Rica 2 Germany 4

Japan 2 Spain 1

I felt sorry for Canada finishing bottom of their group, but thoroughly enjoyed their game with Morocco. Well, I suppose I enjoyed it more than the Canadian keeper did at least. The dire Belgium v Croatia stalemate showed that Ally McCoist’s view this tournament was one too far for many of the fading stars of World football, was a sensible one. Belgium were terrible throughout and justifiably went home early. The other two games were mad and, for 6 delicious minutes, offered the chance of both Germany and Spain going out at the first hurdle. Sadly Germany’s revival, while doing nothing for them in the long run, aided a stubbornly introverted Spanish side, who were justly losing to an invigorated and entertaining Japan side. Typically enough, even this shocking defeat wasn’t enough to rouse the Spanish from their torpor and their fall was already in the post. Germany simply aren’t very good these days, it has to be said. So, after 44 games, we’d seen 110 goals, which equates to exactly 2.5 goals a game, which seems a reasonable return, despite the disappointing number of sterile stalemates we’ve been forced to endure.

Day 13: Ghana 0 Uruguay 2

Portugal 1 South Korea 2

Brazil 0 Cameroon 1

Serbia 2 Switzerland 3

As I was having physiotherapy on my damaged right shoulder, I was unable to see the opening two games. I was, of course, delighted to see Uruguay knocked out and Portugal beaten, even if Ronaldo’s lot (and I really don’t mind them as a group, other than him and that other simpering prick from Man Utd, Bruno Fernandes) didn’t include the foul free transfer. In the evening I made a bad choice, in predictably opting for Brazil v Cameroon. While the other game swung from one side to the other, I watched a slow and uninspiring contest that was characterised by our Bruno having an absolute nightmare of a game, missing chances, wasting passes, losing possession, that did loads to reduce his value in the transfer market. Indeed, this game had only the winning goal and its aftermath to recommend it. Has anyone ever been given a red card by a smiling ref, who has just high fived and hugged you? Absolutely insane, but also ultimately pointless as the Swiss got through and sent Mitrovic’s miserable lot home. Ha! Ha!

Day 14: Netherlands 3 USA 1

Argentina 2 Australia 1

The phony war is over. We are down to the last 16 and proper knock-out football. First up, the Netherlands continue to have a decent tournament by beating the USA with ease. As I was at Percy Main 2 Newcastle Independent 3, I only saw the second Netherlands goal when we trooped into the clubhouse at full time. Subsequently, I headed home to write my match report, which is again available at -: https://payaso-de-mierda.blogspot.com/2022/12/cold-comforts.html getting it finished in time for the Argentina game, which was nuts. Messi, who showed his class by shaking hands with Jason Cummings at full time and not asking him who he was, and his mates could have had half a dozen, but Martinez won the game for them with an astonishing stop in the last minute of stoppage time from NUFC’s new lad Kuol. A good, breathless contest.

Day 15: France 3 Poland 1

England 3 Senegal 0

Despite losing to Tunisia in a group stage game, France continue to serenely progress through the tournament, with Mbappe demonstrating he’s the only rival to Messi in terms of goals and influence over proceedings. Poland were no competition at all, only getting on the scoresheet in farcical circumstances. Lewandowski’s retaken soft penalty seemed to suggest the referee had staked his mortgage on both teams scoring. Meanwhile, England made things unnecessarily difficult for themselves in the opening half an hour against a spirited but limited Senegal. Then, Southgate’s tactical masterstroke of lacing the ball up field as hard and as quickly as possible bore fruit and an easy victory opened up. It seemed clear, even at this point, that this was as far as England would go in the competition.

Day 16: Croatia 1 (3) Japan 1 (1)

Brazil 4 South Korea 1

Japan began at full tilt, but their inability to take their chances came back to haunt them against a side who appeared to be Poland impersonating Spain, or vice versa. The crushing inevitability of Japan’s implosion didn’t make their loss to one of the tournament’s least enjoyable sides any easier to stomach. Still, at least Roy Keane won the commentators’ prize for excessive acerbity, by finding hitherto unimaginable levels of contempt for Brazil’s goal celebrations. His puritanical loathing of dancing or indeed any form of joy must make him Cork City’s only Calvinist.

Day 17: Morocco 0 (3) Spain 0 (0)

Portugal 6 Switzerland 1

Work got in the way of the first game, and I only made it back in time for the spot kicks as Islam once again ruled the Iberian Peninsula. Could anything had summarised Spain’s inability to get anything right, more than their woeful efforts from the spot? It’s genuinely sad to see them waste their ability by playing such aimless possession based football, where keeping hold of the thing seems to be an end in itself. I didn’t see any of the goals in the second contest as Chris Bartholomew and I were putting the finishing touches to our potential CD release as Bartholomew / cusack for early next year. This involved me doing the spoken parts for two tracks, Hair and Broken Bread that will form part of a 6-track release. More details will be available soon, I promise. Also, delighted to see Ronaldo being dropped for this one, but slightly concerned that Fabian Schar went off at the break.

Day 18: Rest Day

Day 19: Rest Day


Day 20: Brazil 1 (2) Croatia 1 (4)

Argentina 2 (4) Netherlands 2 (2)

The quarter finals, with 7 of the 8 predicted sides through, and only Spain missing out. Their departure became somewhat insignificant when Brazil, who turned up seemingly convinced they’d already beaten Croatia, were sent packing by a side that are difficult to love, but even harder to beat. Modric may be a junk shop Pavel Nedved, but he played his part in ensuring Brazil got what they deserved; nothing. It wasn’t a great, or even a compelling game, but it had me off the sofa cheering the result. Mind, the next game was the moment the knock-out stages really caught fire. Argentina were strolling to the semis when the referee went mad, booking 18 players, and a bloke who’d got the elbow from Burnley after relegation became the new Van Basten. Crazy goals, mad penalties, shithouse celebrations of the very worst kind and Denzil Dumfries kung fu kicking any Argentinian within a three metre radius after the match; this game had it all. Needless to say, whoever won would have my support for the rest of the tournament.

 Day 21: Morocco 1 Portugal 0

England 1 France 2

Again Saturday meant a return to real football; in this instance, Hexham 2 Gosforth Bohemians 9 in the company of Harry Pearason. You can read about why I chose this and not Morocco v Portugal here -: https://payaso-de-mierda.blogspot.com/2022/12/high-school-confidential.html

I just got back in time for kick off in the second game, so was able to enjoy a rubbish opening 45 minutes whereby England contrived to give the ball away at every possible opportunity. VAR decided to rear its ugly head and I’m completely at a loss to explain why the opening goal wasn’t chalked out as the foul on Saka was clearly a part of the build up to the goal. I think I understand why the first penalty shout wasn’t answered in the affirmative though, as VAR were checking only to see if it was a penalty or not. Consequently, having opined the foul happened outside the area, they did not have the power to award a free kick on the edge of the box. The parameters of their potential judgement meant it was a penalty or nothing. Stupid I know, but those were the rules.

Cards on the table, I thought England were excellent in the second half and, bar one superb poacher’s instinct by Giroud and an over egging of the pudding by Kane, everything pointed towards England reaching the semi-finals, until France went ahead again. From then to full time, it looked a bridge too far and Rashford’s free kick was truly the only effort on goal after the penalty miss. While France aren’t World Champions for nothing, Saka was the best player on the pitch by miles and Bellingham had an excellent World Cup. I’m glad Southgate has stayed on as manager, if only because the only logical choice to replace him would be Eddie Howe, and I hope this thoroughly decent squad of young men can do themselves proud in the 2024 European Championships. I’m still at a loss to understand the workings of the European Nations League though…

Day 22: Rest Day

Day 23: Rest Day

Sunderland 1 West Brom 2. Yuk! Yuk! Yuk!

Day 24: Argentina 3 Croatia 0

Now this was a proper hammering, just at the part of the tournament where you least expect to see open, attacking football. It was a masterclass by the little genius himself and anyone who begrudged him the chance to play in the final has no heart and no soul. Seeing the back of Croatia, who would have been the least popular winners of a major tournament since Greece at the Euros in 2004, was also a positive as a combination of sublime talent and incorrigible shithousery won the day.

Day 25: France 2 Morocco 0

In the end, it was easy enough for France. They got a scrappy early goal and held their nerve as a massively depleted Morocco, running almost on empty, suffered more injuries and failed to take their chances. Their spirit was never broken, but the second French goal did for them and the first African team to reach this stage knew their race was run. Well played Morocco, for being the first team to get within a country mile of Pele’s prophecy that an African team would win the World Cup before the turn of the 21st Century…

Day 26: Rest Day

No football played, apart from Hibernian losing 3-2 at Castle Greyskull, increasing my fears of relegation somewhat. Why oh why did we sack Jack Ross? Or John Collins even?

Day 27: Rest Day

Day 28: Croatia 2 Morocco 1

I’ve not got a great deal to say about this one, mainly because I got home with 89:13 on the clock. You see, the freezing blasts and snow flurries of the week previous had caused me to panic that there would be zero Northern Alliance fixtures to watch. In the event, 7 games made the cut, but I’d lost my nerve on the Friday night and got myself a ticket for Newcastle’s friendly with Rayo Vallecano. I wasn’t the only one, as an insane crowd of almost 35k turned up to see a first half that was ridiculously open and a second period played almost at walking pace, where 3 callow youths of unknown provenance made their senior bows from the bench. The 2-1 victory for Newcastle was effectively immaterial, as I was glad to have been there, as it made things easier to meet up with Shelley for a bite to eat and a wander round town post-match. After the Croatia v Morocco game, we headed for Percy Main Amateurs and the Christmas do at the newly spruced up clubhouse. It was a quality night in the company of some quality people. How wonderful it is to see this glorious old club making such magnificent strides on and off the pitch. It warms my heart, almost as much as that photo of Modric and his old man embracing in the stand at full time. I really am an old sentimentalist at times.

Day 29: Argentina 3 (4) France 3 (2)

Sentiment was my main reason for wanting Argentina to win the World Cup. That and the fact Las Malvinas siempre son Argentinas of course. You don’t need me to tell you that this was the greatest ever final (just shading Germany v Argentina in 1990 obviously), or that Messi wearing a sponsor’s comfort blanket was a disappointing note to end the tournament on, or that they’d have cruised to a 3-0 win if Di Maria had stayed on. But let’s be honest, it wasn’t just fitting, it was right that Argentina won for, across the tournament as a whole, they were the most interesting, intriguing and unpredictable side of all, including a bunch of young lads (hello Mac Allister) who grew up in public. This was a team full of mates who deserved to win, as they never gave up and always put their daft mistakes behind them. Remember though, the only side to beat them were the Newcastle United XI of Saudi Arabia and for that gesture alone, I’m glad they won out in the end.


Friday 16 December 2022

Cold Comforts

 Percy Main's last scheduled home game of 2022 against Gateshead Rutherford in the George Dobbins League Cup, has been predictably postponed because of  a frozen pitch. Hence, my words from the programme that will go unprinted are included here, along with my contributions to the Wallington (29th October) and Newcastle Independent (3rd December) issues that were issued, with the oldest one first -:


Percy Main Amateurs 3 Winlaton Community 3

 By all accounts, those lucky enough to be at St James’ Park for the visit of Brentford were treated to an extravaganza of attacking football. While not perhaps of the same standard as that contest, the six-goal thriller between Percy Main Amateurs and Winlaton Community kept the spectators at Purvis Park thoroughly entertained for the whole duration.

Following a difficult start to the season, Winlaton have regrouped and are coming again with confidence. On the back of a 7-1 hiding of Seaton Delaval the previous week, the outfit from the far westerly reaches of Gateshead played a full part in a compelling contest. While goal machine Kyle Wharton lead the line in a muscular fashion, notching from the spot with an emphatic finish, it was tricky winger Samuel Brhane who really caught the eye in the first period. Winlaton’s game was built around their ability to break at speed and Brhane was absolutely crucial to this tactical ploy. However, it was Percy Main who struck first. All-action attacker Jay Errington made a superb move down the inside left channel and squared the ball for the onrushing Alfie Livermore to crash home at keeper Mendonca’s near post. Almost from the restart, it could and perhaps should have been 2-0, when Dillon Blake accepted a perfectly weighted through ball by Errington, only to fire a fraction wide.

As well as the incisive passing play, both sides enjoyed good old fashioned melees in the goalmouth. While Percy were frustrated to see a pair of Blake efforts charged down, Winlaton benefitted from the rub of the green as Brhane toe poked his side level on the half hour. The Villagers were not downhearted by this and both Jordan Stephenson and Livermore were denied by block saves by Mendonca. The game then changed 4 minutes from the break when Adam Green was adjudged to have impeded Wharton and the big target man put the visitors ahead.

Within 2 minutes of the restart, The Main were level at 2-2. After having his heels clipped in the box, Blake got up to take the resulting spot kick, rolling calmy home as Mendonca guessed incorrectly. This sparked wave upon wave of home attacks, including a blinding one handed save by Mendonca low to his left from a strong Blake effort. The pressure finally told on the hour when an astute low cross by Errington was effortlessly turned home by the classy Blake. If home fans thought the visitors would wilt after this, there was a rude awakening 90 seconds later when Edgar crashed home an unstoppable volley from wide on the right of the penalty area, tying up the game at 3-3. Despite the best efforts of both sides, including a pair of blinding reflex saves by Percy keeper Callum Elliott from the aforementioned Wharton, this is how it ended, following a superb contest that was compelling from first whistle until last.

Ponteland United 1 Percy Main Amateurs 2

The main drag through Ponteland must boast the highest number of restaurants per capita in the known world. Seemingly every other building between The Badger and The Seven Stars is dedicated to the production of high quality gourmet foods, without a single Just Eat sign on show. If you’re in search of not sustenance, but sporting entertainment, then a right turn at The Diamond is the way to go. Ponteland United’s original ground, renowned for its impressive size and wonderful playing surface where Percy Main won the Northern Alliance Combination Cup in May 2010 by defeating Hebburn Reyrolle, is now a car park for the rebuilt Ponteland Leisure Centre. This impressive structure, that also combines the local high school, looks out onto three sporting facilities; the untouched cricket club, from whose square all new developments radiate, the rugby club, who were hosting Rockcliff on the Saturday Percy Main came visiting and the new home of Ponteland United. Behind a secure and intimidating fence, on which a banner proclaiming the existence of Ponteland United, verdant grass tells of an untouched football pitch; it isn’t in use just yet. Instead, about half a mile up the road, a more modest but still adequate facility plays host to PUFC, just behind the local primary school.

The extra distance required to locate this ground resulted in a late arrival. Not only was kick off a distant memory, Ponteland had just taken the lead. Apparently ex-Main striker Joe Rowan had fired the home team into the lead. For about the first thirty minutes, this must have been the only significant goalmouth action worthy of the game, as both sides kept it tight on a blustery afternoon, where a strong crosswind played havoc with ideas of close control or swift, incisive wing play. Ponteland should have doubled their lead after a moment of chaos in the Percy defence saw the ball given away in the penalty area. However, a case of over elaboration by Ponteland resulted in Percy scrambling the ball away to safety.

Up front, Percy’s attack of Jay Errington, Alfie Livermore and Dillon Blake always looked lively, and the latter was twice denied by desperate blocks in the box around the half hour. However the equaliser, which came on 40 minutes, was worth waiting for. An accurate, arrowed Crossfield pass by Livermore was superbly controlled by Errington, whose accurate touch gave him the chance to bury an impressive low finish from the left hand side of the area. In a game of few chances, this was a more than important goal in the context of play. Indeed, almost immediately, the Main went ahead. Almost inevitably, it was Dillon Blake who notched what proved to be the winner, hurdling keeper Grady Wilson, who had blocked but not held his first effort, to knock the ball into an empty net from almost on the line.

The second half was a far less memorable affair, as the gusting wind played havoc with all attempts at constructive play. Not only that, frequent showers of rain, including one particularly severe bout of hailstones, also interrupted the rhythm of the game. Initially, the Main held the ascendancy, but a third goal proved elusive, though every time Ponteland countered, the effortless handling of the ever impressive Callum Elliott, kept the home side at bay. In the end, Percy Main deserved the victory for a solid showing from front to back.

Dead on Arriva

With Percy Main somewhat inactive, having unaccountably been left with a blank weekend, despite the fact that Whitley Bay A were similarly free and have still to come to Purvis Park, I decided to make another tick in my ongoing attempts to recomplete my Northern Alliance set, on a sunny day that perhaps offered me my last chance to wear shorts to a game in 2022. As has regularly been alluded to, the rapid turnover of clubs and moving of grounds by others means completing the Alliance is a task somewhat akin to a sporting version of painting the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling with a toothbrush. On Saturday morning I was left with 3 grounds still to visit; Blyth Rangers at the Isabella Pavilion, Burradon and New Fordley at Burradon Welfare and, according to information only recently communicated to me, Hexham at Queen Elizabeth High School in the town. Predictably, the first and last of those mentioned were away and so Burradon versus Seaton Delaval Amateurs in the Challenge Cup was to be my destination. No doubt I’ll make the trip up to Burradon again with Percy Main later in the season for a league game, which will then be the third ground I’ve seen that fixture on, after Fordley Welfare and Action Park, as recently as last Easter Monday evening.

One benefit of visiting Fordley was the supposed ease of travel, when contrasted with both blyth and Hexham; Arriva’s 52 could pick me from Four Lane Ends if I was coming from mine, or the 53 would collect me opposite New York Club if I decided to travel from Shelley’s, which is what I opted for in the end. Arriving at the designated stop in plenty of time for the 12.50 bus that would drop me directly opposite the ground at 13.30, I began a wait that predictably turned into a vigil. I realise that national politics are in vogue right now, but at a local level Newcastle Central MP Chi Onwurah is currently engaged in a series of fact-finding meetings with the top brass at Arriva, Go North East and Stagecoach to discover quite why bus services on North Tyneside are so dismally incompetent. This may be a fond task, as the services have been shocking throughout my adult life. Stood seething on Brookland Terrace, I composed many an email in my head before finally boarding the late running 13.20 service at 13.31. The 12.50 service did not operate. There was no explanation for this on social media or recognition of the fact on the Arriva website. Inquiring for a reason from the driver, I was given an insolent shrug by way of response.

Once the large knot of pensioners that comprised the vast majority of passengers on board had disembarked at Boundary Mills, the bus steadily made-up time, presumably on account of the fact that only Northern Alliance addicts or those with a strong love for Killingworth, Cramlington and environs would be likely to use this service, explaining why there were only 3 of us, excluding the driver, on board after Great Lime Road. The ground, beside Burradon Primary School, was adjacent to the bus stop, and game noises told me I’d missed kick off. Not to worry, the sounds guided me home, and I took up my place, arms resting on the permanent pitch barrier, just in time to see Delaval take the lead when a loose ball from a corner kick was swept home from inside the six-yard box. There seems to be a theme, unlike in previous years when North Shields Athletic and Cullercoats perennially struggled to avoid the drop, that whichever side falls to the bottom of the table then engages in a Lazarus-style renaissance, pulling steadily away to safety. We’ve already seen Winlaton hold us to a thrilling draw at Purvis Park, and now the other Amateurs are seemingly reinvigorated, coming into this one on the back of a 6-1 victory over Newcastle Independent.

Their opponents Burradon are a feisty set of battlers, and they came back strongly from this setback, though their equaliser on the half hour did have something of the unexpected about it. Again, a corner was not cleared properly, only this time it was a home player who swept the loose ball home. However, parity was not restored for long, as Delaval retook the lead with what turned out to be the winning goal and a fine strike it was too. A central free kick from pushing 30 yards was clipped serenely into the top corner with the Burradon keeper left vainly grasping at thin air. In all honesty, it was a fair score line at the break and a lovely piece of skill to bring us to that point.

Surprisingly, the second half produced no further goals, though not for a want of trying. In fact, a brace of well marshalled defences at either end of the pitch were profoundly on top in the contest and actually chances were thin on the ground, though the game remained compelling throughout. Despite oath-edged talk in the heat of battle, the final whistle saw good natured handshakes exchanged, just as it should be. It’s a basic facility at Burradon in terms of playing facilities, but the developments off the pitch look to be paying dividends. Sadly, I was unable to locate coffee anywhere and so took the amazingly punctual bus home with my thirst unslaked. For those who are interested in such things, the return journey took as long as Burnley did to score 4 unanswered goals on Wearside, which kept me happy and amused until I arrived home.

Percy Main 4 Wallington 1

It would be fair to say that in recent times, Wallington have held the upper hand in encounters with Percy Main. Only a few weeks ago, the men from Scots Gap put Percy to the sword by a margin of 7-1 at their scenic Oakford Park home. However, that was a modest loss compared to the shameful 14-0 loss that marked the end of last season. Indeed, it have been over 6 years and 10 long years since the Villagers had come out on top against today’s visitors. Therefore, the final score from this contest acts as something of a footballing palate cleanser, though it must also be recognised that Wallington are an excellent footballing side and played a full part in another superb afternoon at Purvis Park, where the entertainment may not be quite of the standard currently on display at St James Park but is some of the very best football to be seen in the Alliance. Such is the improvement discernible since manager Gavin Hatrick assumed control at Percy that the team is playing at a standard not seen in years. Long may this continue.

A ferocious cloudburst right on the first whistle meant the game began in filthy conditions, ideal for uncompromising, whole-hearted attacking play that stirs the blood. The to and fro from both sides was as sparking as the sky was dank and gloomy. Inside two minutes, Tyler Scarth had the ball in the net for Percy Main, only to be denied by an offside flag. Wallington could have taken the lead on 5 minutes, when Jack Palmer found himself unmarked 6 yards out, but opted for power over precision and sliced his effort well over. This was only a temporary reprieve as Adam Green, the steadiest of all Main defenders for seasons now, underhit a backpass, allowing the ever dangerous Keelan Nellis to pounce and roll the ball into an empty net. However, this was only a temporary setback, and the Main came roaring back. Ben Bradburn nodded in at the back post on 21 minutes, notching his first goal since arriving at Purvis Park from Alnwick Town.

Wallington should have been back in front on 28 minutes after Callum Elliott failed to hold a hanging cross, presenting the ball to Kyle Rearden in the 6 yard box. However Eliott atoned with an incredible, brave block to keep the scores level. The home side then took the lead just after the half hour when Jordan Stephenson accepted a pass from Dillon Blake and fired viciously home via the underside of the bar for what would effectively be the winning goal, though with an hour to play, anyone predicting that eventuality would have been a brave man, as Wallington continued to probe and push the Main back.

Perhaps the crucial, defining moment came on 52 minutes when a Wallington defender was penalised for handball in the box. Blake took the responsibility and confidently rolled the ball home, to give the Main a 3-1 lead. Wallington continued to probe and Elliott was required to be at his best to deny Michael Angus, though it was to be the Villagers who wrapped up the scoring when Scarth accepted a beautiful long ball out of defence and finished stylishly to make the final score 4-1. The last few minutes featured a strong shout for another Percy penalty and a quite incredible dash from goal by Callum, obviously seeking not to replicate the errors of Hugo Lloris the week before, that ended in him losing his balance and aquaplaning into the Wallington player on the ball. The yellow card was inevitable, but worth it from a spectator’s point of view.

 Chemfica 1 Percy Main 2

As 3 World Cups in T20 cricket, rugby league and women’s rugby union reach their conclusions and top level football in England pauses until Christmas to accommodate the dubious delights of the tournament in Qatar, the truly discerning lover of the beautiful game will no doubt be delighted to note that the Northern Alliance is continuing regardless. On a Saturday when Eddie Howe’s renascent Newcastle United completed a fourth successive league win by cuffing an abysmal Chelsea to one side, Gavin Hatrick’s Percy Main Amateurs matched the Magpies’ feat, though with slightly less acclamation.

In truth, this game was a slow burner, with little to report during a lacklustre opening half an hour. While the Main clearly had the lion’s share of possession, there was little tangible to show for this, as the lack of direct efforts on goal kept ex Main custodian Reece Monaghan underoccupied against his former team. The deadlock was broken, against the run of play and with strong suspicions of offside in the build-up, when Olly Ure put the home side ahead with a doubly deflected effort, after accepting a cross from the right wing. Thankfully, the Villagers did not put them off their stride and they tied the game up on 44 minutes when Mark McDonnell curled a sumptuous effort beyond Monaghan and into the top corner from distance. In all honesty, it may have been a cross rather than a shot, but regardless it was an eye catching effort and just rewards for a strong showing by Percy.

The second period saw play develop in a clear pattern; Percy Main pressed high and pushed Chemfica back, with the home team relying on pacy counterattacks down the left hand touchline. However, Chemfica had little in terms of attacking threat to profit from these quick breaks and so the ball was returned to Percy players in attacking positions. Alfie Livermore and Jay Errington both had excellent games, causing their markers no end of headaches with their astute movement across the box. Efforts by Jordan Stephenson, a flashing shot inches wide on the turn, Livermore, a quick free kick and McDonnell, a good low effort saved at the foot of the post, kept Monaghan on his toes. The Chemfica custodian was unlucky to be finally beaten on 68 minutes, after making another quality save. Firstly, McDonnell fed newly arrived substitute Tyler Scarth, whose first touch of the ball was almost a goal. Instead, the honour went to Stephenson, who buried the loose ball to put the Main decisively ahead.

The rest of the game was mainly concerned with a Monaghan versus Livermore duel that saw the Chemfica keeper thrice deny the Main’s rising young star. This was another impressive performance and excellent win by a settled side who are blessed with spirit, stamina and no shortage of skill. Long may this continue!!

Newcastle United; Autumn 2022

It was just before the Manchester United game when I last expressed my opinions about Newcastle United. At that point, the season had seen a steady start, but nothing out of the ordinary, with some of the usual hysterical gripes on social media exploding from the great unwashed, such as the clown in the Peaky Blinders cap bellyaching that we were in a relegation dogfight after the Bournemouth draw. So, how’s that working out for you fella? Perhaps you were the one in The Gosforth Hotel at the start of the Chelsea game, also keeping the Birmingham millinery manufacturers in work, claiming we’d get beat with Woods and Willock in the team. Well said that lad…

Looking back now, in something of a sulk that the unwelcome distraction of the World Cup has stayed our stellar progress, the most amazing thing about the Manchester United game is that it wasn’t on the telly, which is probably why it felt like such a low profile affair. No I don’t do fire sticks or any of that palaver, so I only got to see the highlights on Match of the Day 2. Should have won it in the first half; could have lost it after the break, so I suppose a draw was a reasonable result in the circumstances, though I do think we’d have had more of a go at them with the benefit of 6 weeks of hindsight after the way we’ve played since that point. The biggest shame back then was news of Isak’s injury, which I guess just proves football is a wicked game. Predictably ASM found some kind of injury to duck out of things and make his reputation grow by not actually playing. I’m becoming less and less convinced he is essential to the squad moving forward.

And so on to the Everton game, where the big pixels of Amazon Prime made the television coverage look like a tribute to the Blockbusters pieces that Bob Holness used to concern himself with, when not performing saxophone solos for Gerry Rafferty (yes, I do know…). What was still abundantly clear is that Newcastle were the best team by far and Everton, under the less than expert tutelage of Lampard minor, have not progressed a scintilla since Benitez was given the shove. Almiron scored a blinder, and we could, and should, have had a few more, but it didn’t matter too much in the end as Everton were so pedestrian, they didn’t threaten our goal in any meaningful manner throughout the entire game. It was an efficient victory with the added bonus of another clean sheet as we continue to demonstrate that the current Newcastle defence is almost unrecognisable from the shambles under Algarve Bruce.

If the Fulham and Brentford games had an air of unreality about them, on account of the crushing margins of victory in both, then that particular sensation was redoubled during the next pair of fixtures. The manner in which Newcastle crushed Aston Villa was redolent of the 5-1 scudding handed out to them when Andy Cole notched his 40th of the season back in 1993/1994. Sometimes it can actually amaze you just how good a team we’ve become. The fact Villa had won well themselves the week before, having freed themselves of the shackles of Gerrard’s incompetence, was not a threat, more of an utter irrelevance. Courtesy of that stumbling carthorse Mings rendering his own keeper senseless and pensioner Ashley Young (ironic name alert) displaying the reactions of a tired Argentinosaurus when the ball was fired towards his arms, we got the first goal from the spot, which put us ahead at the break and allowed us to crush them underfoot in the second period. It could, and should, have been 6 as Wilson and Murphy both cracked the woodwork late on.

As for Southampton, having endured Hassenhuttl’s bellyaching after Wood and Bruno did for his side last year, it was even better to see them both on the scoresheet again as we obliterated his mob, despite not passing the ball that well. What we did was score a clutch of sublime goals, with the side netting feeling the caresses of our footwork on every occasion. Probably the most telling moment was Botman’s frustration as they pulled one back on 89 minutes; with an attitude like that, no wonder we’ve got the best defensive record in the league. Incidentally, Sean Longstaff was incredible; his indefatigable stamina showing the fruits of all those summers spent haring round the back field at Tynemouth Cricket Club, with his dad Davy shouting the odds from a prone position. Let’s hope young Matty reaps the benefits soon, as there’s not one true NUFC fan doesn’t love the bones of the pair of them.

When Palace rolled into town for the League Cup tie, it was great to finally get to a game. Courtesy of my mate John’s membership, he sorted out brilliant tickets in the Leazes North East Corner, which must be one of the most civilised parts of the ground to spectate from, for him, me and my son Ben. This is a 70 year old bloke coming over from county Kildare for a midweek game you do realise. That’s what I call dedication. We had a superb pizza before the game in Pinocchio’s as well as the usual brilliant pints in The Bodega. It was just a shame we had to endure 90 minutes of football that teetered between tepid and terrible. I liked our initial team selection, but both Shelvey and ASM were still miles off the pace and turned in woeful displays over the 90. I liked Howe’s substitutions even more, but the crucial breakthrough just would not come and so we had the lottery of penalties. The least said about Bruno’s effort the better, but you have to say that Pope earned his money that night. When he came in the summer, I wasn’t convinced we needed another keeper, but he has demonstrated he’s a clear step up on Dubravka. The reward of a home tie against Bournemouth next time out is one I appreciate. I’ll definitely be at that pre-Christmas treat.

And so, the Chelsea game. Again, what can you say? They were absolutely horrific, and we ought to have smashed them out of sight. I’m still scratching my head at why we didn’t get a penalty when Chalobah almost took the laces out the ball, but it simply didn’t matter in the end, despite Kai Havertz’s toddler tantrum, as Willock scored as good a goal as any of Miggy’s recent superstar strikes. Almost incredibly, but totally deservedly, we head into this strange pause with 30 points from 15 games, having tasted defeat only once and that being in August. Without question, these players are responding to some superb coaching and man management; whether they’ve been here for several seasons and been able to shake off their post Algarve Bruce torpor, or if they’ve arrived in the last 12 months and have grasped the nettle in turn the club around, they are giving Eddie Howe at least 110% if not more. Howe himself has proved all doubters wrong, in terms of his coaching and his demeanour. It’s a while since we last had a manager I respected, probably Chris Hughton if I’m honest, but here is a man whose words I hang on. Except when he is unnecessarily forced into a corner by mendacious members of the Fourth Estate asking vindictive closed questions about Saudi Arabia. That we can all do without.

Ah Saudi Arabia; the investment by PIF. At some point, the elephant in the room had to be addressed. I’m guessing that probably 10% of our active support have some kind of moral dilemma about being owned by the House of Saud. However, most of them can sleep soundly in the knowledge of this. Being generous, I’d imagine only 1% of those have walked away from the club and then, they’ve done it without making a fuss for the most part because, being honest, as a single person you’re never going to have any influence such investment, much less turn Saudi Arabia into a modern, democratic state. Let’s stick to football, eh?

AFC Newbiggin 4 Percy Main 1

The current World Cup is Qatar is the source of much debate of Human Rights abuses and also the difficulties faced by spectators trying to gain access to grounds in time for kick off. While such privations may not seem to have much to do with Northern Alliance football, the 50 or so supporters of both teams who assembled outside the 4G cage at Hirst Welfare that AFC Newbiggin are temporarily calling their home as they wait for building works to be completed on their Newbiggin Leisure Centre base, could empathise with those straining to see events on the field in Qatar, as they themselves squinted and sought differing potential vantage points as the game continued behind the unforgiving confines of the vandal proof, green metal fence that separated fans from footballers.

Perhaps the most significant effect of the peculiar vantage point for spectators was to make it difficult to feel connected to the game. This was a pity as, once the players had come to terms with the lively bounce off the artificial surface, the game was played to a good standard. Newbiggin’s main danger was striker Liam Thompson, who almost opened the scoring with a curling effort that dropped just wide after 10 minutes. For Percy Main, who were enjoying the lion’s share of possession, the closest to an opening goal came from a strong Ant Ridley shot from the edge of the box that keeper Nathan Hudson reacted instinctively to tip over.

Newbiggin took the lead, slightly against the run of play, on the half hour mark when Thompson expertly nodded home from a soft free kick, conceded on the touchline. The goal was redolent of Australia’s winner that morning against Tunisia. Sadly, Jay Errington was unable to draw the Main level right on half time when he mistimed a similar headed opportunity as the visitors roared back. With the very last kick of the half, Alfie Livermore put a strong effort just wide as Newbiggin held on to lead 1-0 at the break.

At the resumption, Percy Main redoubled their attacking instincts, following the introduction of Dillon Blake from the bench. As ever, the busy forward was at the centre of everything good about the Villagers’ play. He set up Errington with a splendid defence-splitting pass for a 1 on 1 with Hudson, that the keeper did well to block. However, for all the intricate close play, it was a lusty ball over the top by Carl Collins that brought about the equaliser on 70 minutes. Errington timed his run to perfection and expertly lobbed the on-rushing Hudson. While the goal was nothing less than the Main deserved for their excellent response, it was the signal for the visitors to fold like a pack of cards and concede three unanswered goals in the next 13 minutes, giving the final score a lopsided and somewhat unfair look.

Immediately following the equaliser, Newbiggin drove down the left and a deep cross to the back post saw an unmarked Jack Livingstone restore the home side’s lead with a precise header. Worse was to come as Adam Angus pounced on a rebound in the box, following Callum Elliott’s smart save, to bury the loose ball on 79 minutes. The final indignity came courtesy of Harry Bainbridge, who waltzed through the Main defence on 83 minutes and fired home to put the game beyond all doubt, leaving Percy Main to reflect on a quite spectacular collapse after working so hard to restore parity.

Percy Main 2 Newcastle Independent 3

Those of you who are still looking for a last minute Christmas present for the football lover in your life, may consider the value of a half season ticket for Percy Main Amateurs. Reasonably priced at £20, they grant admission to all fixtures yet to be played at Purvis Park in 2022/2033 and with probably 10 games still to go, that represents tremendous value, especially if the games are as good as the ones that have been played already this campaign. This may seem a strange thing to say on the back of a late home defeat to a strong, well-disciplined and highly effective Newcastle Independent side, but it seems clear that news of the quality of Percy Main’s play has got around the Northern Alliance, if one considers the confrontationally effusive celebrations that accompanied each goal by the Newcastle Independent technical team, as well as the fact today’s game was filmed by two separate camera crews.

From the first whistle, Newcastle Independent sought to gain the upper hand, with Harvey Walsh unleashing a fierce drive that drifted just wide of Callum Elliott’s right hand post in the first minute. On a bitterly cold day that saw torrential downpours interrupted by short bursts of dazzling sunshine, the football on display was a warming treat for the crowd of interested onlookers. Most, if not all, would not have been surprised when Independent took the lead on 20 minutes, when Matthew Bowles profited from a favourable bounce following a block tackle and finished coolly into the bottom corner. Until 35 minutes, Percy Main had shown little in the way of creativity as the strong Independent defence kept them at arm’s length, but this was to change when Dillon Blake was tripped in the area. The Main striker picked himself and slotted home from 12 yards to restore parity. The final incident of note in the half involved Rob Ridley having a tooth knocked out by an Independent player. One hopes Rob remembered to place the otiose molar under his pillow on Saturday night.

The second half began evenly, until Independent took the lead after a smart piece of finishing by Rhys Hutchinson, who seized on a loose ball and drove it viciously into the bottom corner. This was the cue for the Villagers to embark in their best period of play in the game. Both Jay Errington and Ant Ridley were denied by stupendous saves by Rob Hodgson in the away goal, though he was rather embarrassed to be beaten by Jordan Stephenson’s decent, but not devastating, strike in the 63rd minute that brought the scores back level. Under leaden skies, on a gluey pitch, the two sides strove for the upper hand. Sadly for Main, the visitors were to prevail when Harvey Walsh broke away down the left and fired powerfully under the body of the advancing Elliott on 83 minutes. It was a tough defeat to swallow, but the Main lads knew they had given their all and played their full parts in a very entertaining encounter.