Heed Space

 I've been Southside recently....

I don’t know about you, but I generally find I became unstuck in time during the Festive Period. How this generally manifests itself is by a loss of comprehension of the relevance of the Calendar. I always know what the date is, but I fail to connect that numerical knowledge with an actual day, as I grow increasing uncomprehending, shorn of the usual weekly appointments that delineate the actual days of the week. Like almost everyone else, a normal week revolves around football on a Saturday and the fact we lost two of them in a row to Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve knocked me all to pot.  Newcastle’s Boxing Day win at Leicester was a great spectacle, but from that point onwards any relationship between days, dates and football itself stopped existing in any meaningful way in my head. Indeed, it was like that after I got back to work, when I returned exhausted from the first day back at graft, astonished to find out we were playing Arsenal that night.

In the weeks leading up to it, I’d long harboured a belief that somehow, mysteriously if not mystically, a magical ticket for Newcastle versus Leeds would turn up for me. It didn’t and, while you could say I had a lucky escape as the DYBs channelled the ghost of Don Revie’s anti-football tactics to undeservedly steal a point from SJP, sitting on the sofa listening to Radio Newcastle’s commentary was a non-too-pleasant throwback to those far gone decades when, before I’d discovered the beauty and purity of non-league football and in the absence of cash or a ticket for a Newcastle away game in the Arthur Cox, Jack Charlton and Willie McFaul eras, listening to Charles Harrison’s burbling inanities on Metro was the only way to keep (loosely) connected to the outcome of a game. Frankly, I didn’t enjoy my return visit to those far-flung days. Give me the Northern Alliance and regular updates on my phone any day.

I suppose I could have ventured out to Dunston, Spartans or even Spennymoor on Boxing Day, to try and soothe my football-starved soul, but the lack of regular buses spoiled that possibility for a dedicated non-driver such as me. Instead, I focussed on sampling the January 2^nd fixture list, as I simply couldn’t countenance not seeing a single game during my time off work. There were 4 possible candidates: Consett v Dunston and Morpeth v South Shields on 4G pitches would definitely be on, providing fog or a fall of snow didn’t intervene. However, the sheer distance of these relatively inaccessible grounds put me off. When it became clear that clement weather would allow for a full programme of games, choices narrowed to 2 potential candidates: Hebburn v Shields or Gateshead v York. The former appealed because it was cheaper to get in, but I decided on Gateshead for sentimental reasons.

On New Year’s Eve I learned of the death of one of my closest friends from my teenage years, from back in the days we called ourselves the FPX (Felling Punks). Geoff Johnston was only 59 when he passed away and, while I’ll admit to having lost touch with him over the last decade or so, I knew life was tough for him and that his health was failing. While we were growing up, Geoff was the best footballer and most talented musician among us all. He was also devilishly handsome and roguish Ladies’ Man, when such a phrase was still in vogue. For the rest of my life, I’ll never be able to hear Stay Free by The Clash without shedding a tear for him. In short, having already made one trip south of the river to lay flowers on my dad’s grave on December 28^th, I was compelled to make another visit to NE10, to be among those I called my own kind.

I knew that another FPX alumni, Raga, was a Gateshead season ticket holder of a decade and a half standing (he quit SJP even before Ashley bought the place) and would be at the game so, having persuaded my son Ben to join me and to take the car, we headed off down the dirty back lane that leads to the International Stadium. I’ll freely admit to not being a regular visitor to Gateshead games over the past few decades; probably for nigh on 40 years since Bob Topping was banging them in during the early 80s, helping to get the Tynesiders promoted to the GM Vauxhall Conference, as was. I can recall being at an away game at Wealdstone in 1987 when I lived in London and home wins over Barrow and Witton Albion, in front of tiny crowds, in 1992. After that, it took a freebie for a home FA Cup loss in extra time against Oxford in 2013 and a stupendous 4-1 destruction of Grimsby in the play-off semi-final the year after, with nigh on 7,000 in the ground, to reawaken my interest.

My main barrier to enjoying watching the Heed was not the ground, surprisingly enough. Yes, the IS is a terrible, windy, desolate place to watch a game when there’s only a few hundred rattling round the place, but my absence was more to do with the non-football in the bad old Colin Richardson era; a rigid 5-4-1 formation, with the ball belted, high and hard, up top for the big man to try and win a knock down, so the midfielders could pick up the pieces. It never worked and it was ugly, sterile and futile, especially with a gale howling across a pitch that resembled a ploughed field, in front of circa 300 hypothermia sufferers.

Nowadays, under Mike Williamson, the pitch is perfect and the team, revitalised after a couple of years back down int the National League North, courtesy of a shameful punishment caused by the wrongdoings of the previous board, play great football. Face it, if you’ve got Adam Campbell running rings round the opposition, there’s no need to play it above ankle level. As yet, the team hasn’t been rewarded with the amount of points that reflect their style of play, and sit just outside the relegation zone, but they came into this game on the back of a thumping 3-0 win away to York on Boxing Day.

For the return fixture, York brought 740 fans. Almost all of them were in The Schooner before kick-off, so we abandoned all thoughts of a pint and went in the ground early for a Bovril and a blether. The crowd was an impressive 2,203, with home fans supportive throughout, creating impressive noise both times the Heed scored and not getting on keeper James Montgomery’s back when he was caught hopelessly out of position for the first equaliser. Frankly, York were terrible and Gateshead should have been out of sight long before the fortuitous bounce in the area presented them with a late equaliser, but if you don’t take your chances, you will learn to regret it.

I thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon and, while I feel £18 is still a bit pricey, the product on offer isn’t ludicrously expensive. Indeed, if they’d won, I wouldn’t mention this fact at all. It was great to catch up with Raga and I hope to see him and the Heed again soon.

GCJ RIP xxx