Taking Stock

 Stocksfield FC haven't become any more loveable since the days when Bruce Vause's theatricality was a regular occurrence -: 

This Government deserve stringing up from the nearest available set of lamp posts. Agreed? However, I will concede that their latest public transport initiative, whereby you can go anywhere on the bus for £2 maximum, is of great help to those of us intent on repainting the Pinpoint Recruitment sponsored Sistine Chapel ceiling. In other words, if you need to revisit another Northern Alliance club who have just started playing at a new venue, a cheap holiday amidst other people’s misery on the 62 is just the ticket. Imagine this; I can get on at the nearest stop to my house and ride for 55 minutes way out west, alighting at the top of the bank from Newburn Leisure Centre, where Stocksfield FC now play their home games. Not bad for forty bob, eh?

Let’s be honest though; the West End is not the best end. Once the 62 hung a left off Stamfordham Road, I didn’t have a clue where I was until I spotted the River Tyne about 50 yards from the far touchline once I’d found the basic but not too bad pitch, which was in the shadow of the Big Lamp Brewery. Unfortunately, having been treated to a scenic trip around West Denton, Chapel Park (location of Greenway, which is the only street I know of named after a Fall song), Walbottle, Lemington and eventually Newburn, I was left too short of time to pay a visit. Instead, I concentrated on the football.

Back in the day, Stocksfield were the most despised of any Northern Alliance team, even when the likes of Walker Fosse were plying their pugilistic trade, on and off the pitch. The Griffins, as they were known, were not a collection of effete bourgeois aesthetes from the Tyne Valley; indeed, they were a combination of fast paced Route 1 football and despicable theatrics. Managed by Colin Stromsoy, who has just been shown the door after an utterly undistinguished year at Benfield, the Stocksfield side of a decade and a half ago, were roundly detested by every other side from Berwick United to Carlisle City and back again. The very worst of this parcel of rogues was a certain Bruce Vause, who is the biggest cheat I’ve ever seen at Northern Alliance level. The dive he took at Percy Main to ensure Scott Pocklington, who didn’t lay a finger on him, got a red card for a supposed headbutt is the single most disgusting example of play acting I’ve ever seen on a football pitch.  Frankly, when they called it a day a few years ago, I punched the air in triumph. Vause is a senior teacher in Gateshead, where his stringent moral code must be of great benefit to those under his tutelage…

Now Stocksfield are back again, though they don’t wear orange any longer (indeed Heddon were in shirts of that hue) and they don’t play at Stocksfield Cricket Club where, unbelievably, they were allowed to play Premier Division football without a permanent barrier rail round the pitch. Indeed, their perimeter consisted of a load of plastic fence panels that you normally see guarding roadworks. Of course, now they’re in the bottom tier, there’s no need for any form of barrier. The fact there were only 5 people watching at the early kick off time of 1.30 perhaps better indicated why questions regarding crowd safety were superfluous, though the spectating masses expanded to a mini throng of 23 by the break.

Having seen Heddon taken comprehensively to the cleaners by Blyth Rangers back in November, I held out little hope for them in the role of moral avengers against the home side. Indeed, in the first 30 minutes, neither side put together anything that could be justifiably called coherent football. Hit and hope was the order of the day, with only the outrageous cheating of the Stocksfield flag waver, apparently their manager, offering anything for the crowd to get worked up about. Then, just after the half hour, Stocksfield managed to get their act together, hitting the limited visitors with a decisive double whammy in the space of 5 minutes. Firstly, a corner was nodded on at the back post and an unmarked Stocksfield player headed in, unchallenged. Probably, in terms of both possession and intent, this was a fair reflection on the play. The second goal, which saw a quality curled finish from the corner of the box was perhaps harsh on Heddon and completely at variance to the standard of play seen so far. It also completely floored Heddon who limped to the break, without offering anything in response.

The second period saw an upping of the ante, with an energised Heddon pushing Stocksfield back, though failing to take any of the presentable chances they created. In addition, the Stocksfield manager, now on flag duties on the near side of the pitch, seemed intent on creating some kind of violent confrontation with the Heddon management. At first the young and weak referee was content to warn him as to his conduct. This went ignored and the recalcitrance persisted, so the ref booked him for dissent, before finally relieving him of assistant duties, though not red carding him, for a volley of unnecessary invective that Vause would have been proud to blame someone else for.  Unfortunately, these spoiling tactics did for Heddon, who conceded a late third, when the Stocksfield 9, who was the best player on the park, arrowed home a fine finish.

Full time saw some further unseemly crowing and posturing by the Stocksfield boss, but a dispirited Heddon squad were not up for anything other than limp handshakes. I got myself away on a rapid 22, where the sight of Scotwood Road allowed me to recognise where I was once more. Soon I was heading south on the High Level, marching against the SJP matchday traffic en route to the West Ham game, as I headed for my dearly departed pal Geoff Johnston’s memorial drink with friends I’d grown up with in The Black Bull by Gateshead Interchange. My memories of the best football and best musician of any of our lot will live longer than my recollections of Stocksfield 3 Heddon United 0. And rightly so.

 

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