Completed Community

 Coxlodge Community Centre is the only place to be on a cold, wet Wednesday evening in April -:

When Fawdon were admitted to the Northern Alliance third division at the start of the season, I didn’t immediately seek to visit them as they were playing at the abominable Druids’ Park, formerly home of Blue Star when it was the Wheatsheaf Ground and Blue Star were Blue Star, but latterly also home to West Allotment Celtic, Ponteland United Reserves and sundry others. However, things changed in early January when Fawdon returned to their original home of Coxlodge Community Centre and, notwithstanding seeing Percy Main clatter them 6-1 in the George Dobbins League Cup, I knew I had to visit. My initial plan was to take in their home game with Alnwick Town Development on the first Saturday in April, but instead I took in a trio of games in the environs of Coach Lane, as described in payaso de mierda: 270 Minutes (payaso-de-mierda.blogspot.com).

Typically, the game at Fawdon ended 4-6, but there’s no time for regrets in the groundhopping game. I needed this one, or tick as we social inadequates call them, to recomplete my full Alliance set. The delicious irony was I would be seeing them host the team, AFC Newbiggin Central, where I last completed the Alliance (a task that is the footballing equivalent of painting the Sistine Chapel ceiling). I wrote about that one in this blog; payaso de mierda: The People's Game (payaso-de-mierda.blogspot.com). Similar to that game, I took the bus, though thankfully I didn’t lose my wallet this time, only my bearings, in a theme familiar to regular readers of this column. Buses 6 and 7 serve the central Coxlodge community, though their route has been shortened of late, no longer extending to Four Lane Ends, but terminating at the Freeman Hospital. I biked to the bus stop, almost unsuccessfully due to building works in the hospital, leaving my trusty, rusty companion chained up in Paddy Freeman’s car park.

I’d only really known this area at the end of the last century, when attending the Northern Regional Centre for Psychotherapy, which was then temporarily housed in St Nick’s, as I often wish I could be, while their Claremont Road base was being refurbished. Ironically, I’d woken up on the Wednesday feeling rested and happy. Indeed by 11, I was borderline euphoric, courtesy of listening to “What Goes On” (Live 69 version) by The Velvets loud and on repeat. Unfortunately, my pleasant tide ebbed and by lunchtime I was sad, then in floods of convulsive tears once it got to 2.15. I managed to pull myself together by 4.00 and found myself on the 5.25 bus in an almost normal mood. I had plenty of time to contemplate my situation as the bus crawled, funereally slow, through the traffic to Jubilee Road.

Predictably, I got off a stop too late, then followed ludicrously unhelpful Google directions, before doubling back on instinct and finding I’d gone past the ground on my wandering way. Luckily, the kick-off had been pushed back from the advertised 6.00 to 6.15, which meant I hadn’t missed a thing. Indeed, there was also the bonus of Fawdon Park, effectively the resident reserve team, hosting Westerhope United on the adjoining pitch. I tried to keep an eye on that game, but it came a poor second to the highly engaging contest that played out in front of me.

From the off, promotion chasing Newbiggin Central sought to impose themselves, though without creating any clear cut chances, thus it was still a surprise when Fawdon went ahead with a decent strike from distance that flew beyond the keeper’s despairing leap on the quarter hour. Within 10 minutes, the score was level when the Newbiggin number 8, who had an impressive game, nodded home with a fine, opportunist header after a near post corner. This did not signal a change in the course of the game as the hosts retook the lead from the spot on 37 minutes, after a Fawdon forward had been felled in the box.

 This remained the score at the break, when I took a slow tour around the edge of both pitches. With the light failing and breeze stiffening, a shivery Spring evening took over from a blustery Spring day. The darker it got, the more Newbiggin took control of proceedings, though the Fawdon keeper distinguished himself with 3 strong saves. On 65 minutes, it was all square again after a fluent passing movement saw an elegantly stroked finish under the keeper and the winner predictably followed after 80, when a towering header from an unmarked visitor at the back post sent the points back up the A189, to reinforce their title challenge. This was despite late valiant efforts by a Fawdon side who utterly belied their lowly position in the table. As the final whistle blew and driving rain fell, I vowed to return next season, then took the 7 to the Freeman, collected the bike and pedalled home to thaw out under the duvet and feast upon an out of date Scotch egg, purchased from the Sainsbury’s reduced section three days before.

Welcome to my nightmare, where I’m living the dream.