Here are my match reports & assorted ramblings from 2023's Percy Main programmes -:
Rutherford: 07-01-23
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.
Heed Space
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 2nd 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 the company.
I
knew that a bloke I grew up with, 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.
Ponteland: 14-01-23
Percy Main 0 Rutherford 2
Percy Main Amateurs rather tamely exited the Northern Alliance George Dobbins League Cup at the first stage, going down to a 2-0 home loss to a resilient and well-organised Rutherford side, who were much changed from the outfit who were blown away at Purvis Park back in August, when the hosts ran out 4-1 winners. There was never a chance of that outcome being repeated, as Rutherford took the game by the scruff of the neck from the off, pushing the Villagers back deep in their own territory.
The
opening goal came on 19 minutes when Dylan Swann, the tall and imposing
Rutherford striker, sent a looping header onto the top of the bar. The ball
dropped, eluding the despairing clutches of Callum Elliott in the home goal,
allowing Swann to follow up and force the ball home from almost on the line. On
the half hour the Main were almost level, when a speculative overhead shot by
Rob Ridley grazed the far post and ran safe. From there, Rutherford broke
quickly and Elliott was forced to scramble the ball behind from Swann’s long
distance lob. It was 2-0 from the resulting corner when the ball dropped to
Chris Hewitt at the edge of the area and he returned it with interest, sending
a low, accurate shot into the bottom corner of the goal.
After
the break, Percy Main came out of the blocks with a head of steam and enjoyed
much possession and many half chances from the whistle. Sadly, whatever they
tried, Percy just could not find a goal. For the second period, Alfie Livermore
and Jay Errington ran the show, proving to be constant threats to the
Rutherford defence. However, despite hitting the bar and post, as well as
seeing several efforts hacked away from on or near the line, scoring eluded the
Main and so it is Rutherford who advance into the next round. For Percy Main,
it means a place in the consolation Bill Gardner Cup with the other first round
losers. Details of the draw are still awaited.
50 Year Itch
I
know loads of blokes my age have their “man cave” stuffed floor to ceiling with
signed photos, replica shirts and other sporting goods, but I’m not one for
football memorabilia to be honest. For a start, Freddy Shepherd and Douglas
Hall’s antics with one of those fake sheikhs in a Marbella hotel room, back in
early 1998 put me off buying Newcastle shirts forever. Therefore, apart from a
random selection of scarves and the odd woolly hat, my mementoes tend to be
printed ones. In fact, sitting directly above my head where I’m typing this, on
the wall in front of me, is a framed copy of the programme from the first game
I attended. Priced 7p, the January 1st, 1973, edition of The
Black ‘N’ White previews Newcastle’s home clash with Leicester City, which
ended in a 2-2 draw. If I’m honest, I recall absolutely nothing of the game
from my perch atop one of the concrete barriers in the Gallowgate Corner where
I rested my back against my dad’s protective chest and glimpsed only fitfully
limited sections of the brilliant green turf, apart from the deafening roars of
the crowd and the huge building site to my right that would soon be known as
the East Stand (I still call it the New Stand you know).
Despite
the Leicester tie taking place on New Year’s Day, it was the only game in
England that day, as it didn’t become a mandatory Bank Holiday until the year
after, when Newcastle celebrated the fact by winning 1-0 at Highbury, courtesy
of a goal from Terry Hibbitt (on the wing). I wonder if the additional Public
Holiday had anything to do with the fact that January 1st, 1973, was
the day Britain, along with Denmark and the Republic of Ireland, joined the
European Economic Community, or Common Market as we all called it then? In
point of fact, the Leicester game should have been played at the end of
November 1972, but the team from Filbert Street secured a postponement when a
flu epidemic swept through their squad, leaving them with only 7 fit
professionals. I was distraught on learning this the night before, having been
promised by my dad that he’d take me to this one. At least he kept his word for
the rearranged game, though I’m not sure why we waited for this one, where we
took our places with 36,866 others, when December 23rd and 30th
had seen us at home, beating Man City (2-1) and Sheffield United (4-1)
respectively. Bit late to ask him now, as he passed the day after Bobby Robson
back in August 2009.
While
I was aware that New Year’s Day marked 50 years since I’d first attended St
James’ Park, the significance of the opponents didn’t hit home until the
Carabao Cup quarter final draw seeped into my conscience. Having missed out on
a ticket for Leeds on New Year’s Eve, it meant that Leicester City would become
the first and last opponents I’d seen on Tyneside, over a period of half a
century. As I type those words, I still can’t quite believe them. How on earth
have I been alive for more than 58 years and spent 50 of them so concerned with
the Magpies?
Anyway,
having secured my usual cup tickets in Block E of the Leazes as it joins with
the East Stand, for me and my son Ben, I was about to enjoy a very different
matchday experience than I did back in the mists of time. For a start, we won.
In fact, we obliterated Leicester from the opening whistle. Sean Longstaff
should have had us a goal up after 40 seconds and a procession of other
gilt-edged chances (Bruno, Sean again, Joelinton and Wilson) came and somehow
went begging. With the score at 0-0 nearing the 60 minute mark, I started to
feel decidedly panicky, but cometh the hour, cometh the man. Dan Burn has been
outstanding for Newcastle since he signed last year and his goal here,
reminiscent of Phillippe Albert for Belgium at the 1994 World Cup, was an absolute
stunner. When Joelinton crashed home an unstoppable finish from Almiron’s
superb through ball 10 minutes later, I was in absolute dreamland as the roof
came off. All that was needed was Jamie Vardy’s inexplicable miss, provoking
some magnificently abusive chanting about his wife’s inability to keep a
confidence, before I knew we were going through to our first semi-final in 18
years and our first in this competition since 1976. I was there that night when
we beat Spurs 3-1 to get to Wembley back then, but that’s for another time.
As
Leicester slunk down the tunnel, the whole ground, players and fans, was united
in a common purpose, with deafening adulation falling in waves from all four
corners of the ground. We are the Geordies, and this was the best night I
can recall in at SJP since the days of Bobby Robson or back in Keegan’s first
spell in charge. Not one person in a black and white scarf left the ground with
anything to grumble about. Everyone was rightly ecstatic. Emerging onto Barrack
Road among a massive, swaying throng of delirious chanting supporters provoked
a real lump in the throat that not even the idiotic decision of Stagecoach to
put on single decker buses on a match night could dampen. Now,
all we have to do is get past Southampton. Surely they can’t beat us over 2
legs?
Tell
me ma, me ma we won’t be home for tea.
We’re
stood on the 63, on the 63…
Chemfica: 11-02-23
Percy Main 0 Ponteland
United 0
Dry
January seems to be all the rage among those who overindulged over the festive
period. Questions about whether Percy Main’s squad imbibed excessively are not
necessarily relevant to their performances on the pitch, but it is undeniable
that they continue to suffer a drought in front of goal as, for the second
successive home game, the Villagers failed to find the net. Thankfully, the
shot-shy visitors also avoided scoring a goal, so at least a point was secured
from a wind-ravaged stalemate at Purvis Park in front of a good crowd, which
included most of the North Shields committee who took in this game after their
own at Tadcaster Albion was rained off. We thank them for their patronage.
The
lack of goals wasn’t for want of trying by the home side. Kicking into a stiff
breeze in the opening period, Jay Errington went closer with a long range
effort as early as the 6th minute which, unfortunately, drifted wide
at the last second. Soon afterwards an astute pass from Alfie Livermore, now
proudly wearing the number 9 shirt, set up Mark McDonnell in the right side of
the area, but sadly his effort just went wide of the far post. After these
early efforts, the quality of the game dropped noticeably as both sets of
players were forced to battle not only each other, but a rapidly escalating icy
wind that swept from one end of the pitch to the other, almost uprooting the
corner flags that were bent to 45 degree angles. Despite this Livermore was
then the closest Villager to opening the scoring when his header on 25 minutes,
flew agonisingly over the bar. This was to be the last significant chance of
the half.
Following
the resumption, it was to be hoped that the Main could capitalise on the wind
at their backs, but this was unfortunately not the case, as Ponteland put their
recent wretched form behind them and rolled their sleeves up to battle for a
point. Indeed, the first chance of the half fell to the away team, which
required impressive debutant Dan Souter’s interception, to seep the ball clear
as it threatened to roll over the line. At the other end, Errington’s header
from a corner brushed the outside of the post on the hour mark. Soon after, Rob
Ridley’s run and shot was smothered by Pont keeper Grady Wilson. It looked as
if Ridley had been impeded in the area and could have legitimately gone down
under the challenge. However, his sorting behaviour in trying to stay on his
feet is to be applauded. Indeed both sets of players deserve an ovation for their
efforts, but as the wind continued to gust and howl, it became obvious that the
only winners on the day were the elements.
Meadow
Larks
It’s
a darn good job Newcastle United have made it to Wembley for the Carabao Cup
final, as that achievement expunges any awful memories of the Sheffield
Wednesday tie at the start of last month. You see, historically, the last
weekend in January has always been FA Cup 4th round weekend or, as
it is generally known on Tyneside, the mid-season break. It couldn’t have come
at a more opportune time.
Me
and my mate Gary Thompson, the secretary at Newcastle Benfield, have been
promising each other for years that we’d have a dodge across the border for a
gentlemen’s Saturday and an opportunity came up when I decided I could live
without a trip to Whickham Under 23s in the Bill Gardner Cup and the Northern
League originally gave Benfield a free Saturday on January 28th.
Never mind that The Lions subsequently ended up with Guisborough at home being
slotted in, some prime contacts had already sorted us out with cheap (and I
mean cheap) rail travel, while my Falkirk-supporting pal Derek Steel sourced us
seats to enable our attendance at FC Edinburgh against his beloved Bairns. We
were off!!
Gary
got to Central so early I think he must have messed the bed, while I turned up
in the nick of time, courtesy of a lift from the late running Ben Cusack who,
in his entire 28 years on earth, has never knowingly been early or indeed on
time for anything. Gary had bought the coffees, then drank his while waiting
for me. We got on an almost deserted train, enjoying the relative peace of
travelling without squads of Prosecco fuelled ladies of a certain age spilling
across the aisles.
Up
in Edinburgh on time, we hopped a 24 for Seton Sands, alighting at the ground
and letting Google find us a bar. First choice it gave us was Moira’s Nail Bar,
so I refined the search to “pubs” and within 10 minutes we were settling onto
high stools in The Limelite and enjoying cool Tennent’s. I’m not
a fan of cooking lager, but when more than 50% of the pints sold in Scotland
are of this fine Caledonian brew, you can’t argue with the demographics.
There’s got to be a reason so much of it is sold. About 3 pints or an hour
later, traffic-delayed Derek and his pal Tourette’s Jim arrived from Falkirk.
As ever, brilliant to catch up with these fine gentlemen.
Around
the time the two captains were shaking hands and tossing a coin, we left the
bar and wandered back down the road. As ever, the size of the travelling
support had left the home organisers of any game against Falkirk utterly
unprepared; a mere two turnstiles meant we got in when the game was already
underway, but nothing of significance had been missed as an injury to a home
player in the opening minute, which caused him to be withdrawn, meant the game
was stopped.
This
trip to Meadowbank was a revisit for me, as I’d been to Edinburgh City, as they
were then called, when they shared Ainslie Park with Spartans, for a 4-1
demolition of Elgin City back in December 2018. You see FC Edinburgh are now
back at the ground, or more properly the site of the ground, where they became
tenants once Meadowbank Thistle (formerly Ferranti Thistle) headed out to
Almondvale and became Livingston back in 1996. Their decamping to Ainslie Park
in 2017 was made necessary by the decision to redevelop Meadowbank, building
what is effectively the fourth iteration of a football ground on this patch of
land.
Well,
building is stretching things a bit. In 2017, the 5,000-capacity stadium that
was built to host the 1970 Commonwealth Games was razed and, in its place, a
1,280 capacity, 500 seat, municipal leisure facility of a running track with a
4G pitch in the middle has been thrown together. Oh sure, it’s got good
quality, heated toilets which play piped pop music (Madonna’s Greatest Hits
when we visited), but it’s got abysmal sightlines and less atmosphere than
Neptune. Walking the length of the stand to find our seats was as flat as
taking the outside lane in a sprint.
From
the off, Falkirk looked the better side, but the aged Liam Fontaine did his
best to marshal the FC Edinburgh back line and, with chances at a premium, we
went into the break scoreless. There was no chance of a pie at this ground,
with the burger van 150 yards away by the entrance and seemingly dealing with
the rest of the 1,017 hungry punters who’d turned up that day. In any case, the
second half was a football feast; Falkirk went 2-0 up by the hour, courtesy of
a lovely header by Oliver and a solid, unflappable finish by Morrison and the
game was won. Of course, this is when the frankly appalling refereeing
performance of Steven Kirkland comes under the microscope, and it needs to be
addressed. Not only did he allow Edinburgh a goal back after an outrageous
barge by the curiously named Ouzy See, but he ignored two clear penalty shouts,
one for handball and one for the mightiest shove in the back I’ve seen in
years. At least The Bairns held on and cut Dunfermline’s lead at the top of
League 1.
Regular
readers may furrow their brows at this point with my blessing. Yes, I am
avowedly a Hibernian fan of 50 years standing. Yes, Hibernian were at home on
that very Saturday to Aberdeen, with Easter Road lying no more than a couple of
miles from Meadowbank, but I was passing up the opportunity to see them because
I am frankly in despair at the current state of the Hibees. Continual
panic stations in the boardroom have led to the hiring and firing of an ever
more inadequate set of managers, who have presided over a catastrophic decline
in the quality of players on the books and the attendant performances on the
pitch. Hence, I wasn’t prepared to lend any support to a regime that does not
have the first clue what the best interests of Hibernian FC are, never mind
doing anything tangible to look after them. In all seriousness, this was a line
in the sand moment for me and I don’t regret it for one minute. Well, the
cheers after each one of the six unanswered Hibs goals did leave me a little
nonplussed by events, but it’s always a hoot watching Falkirk away.
Come
full time, at Meadowbank, we cheered the boys off and located Derek’s car and
took a lift to the top of Leith Walk. Gary and I enjoyed a walk up to
Waverley, then nipped across the road to West Register Street and the beautiful
Guild Ford, Edinburgh’s finest pub. A few pints of floral Leith Juice
and some people watching kept us busy, until it was time to get a carry oot for
the train. 90 minutes later, we arrived slightly early into Central. A swift
black took Gary back to The Rising Sun to collect his fatha and I headed
home, falling asleep within seconds of bidding a fond hello and equally warm
goodbye to Shelley who was off out with her pal Kristina. Still, at least I’d
remembered to bring her 8 cans of Tennents, because I’m romantic like
that…
Whitley Bay Reserves: 11-03-23
Percy Main Amateurs 3
Newcastle Chemfica 0
17
years to the day since Ian Hall’s clean sheet for the Villagers was the least
important statistic of a heroic 0-0 away to Heaton Stannington that came to be
known as The Battle of Grounsell Park, Percy Main again recorded an opposition
shut out, though this time it was rather more through luck than judgement, as
Chemfica’s profligate finishing contributed to a comprehensive scoreline of 3-0
to the home side. Never has the truism you can’t win games if you don’t score
goals been more evident than during this contest, whereby Percy Main secured
full points for the first time in a league game since our 2-1 win away to the
same opposition back in mid-November.
On
a clear and calm day, with temperatures easily into double figures, there was a
hint of Spring in the air. Such optimistic thoughts were almost reinforced in
the opening seconds when Alfie Livermore broke free and fired just over the
angle of post and bar from the edge of the area. Manager Gavin Hattrick had
opted for the imposing figure of Nicky Whitelaw as centre forward and the
target man was the focus of many attacks and an equal number of robust
challenges. On 20 minutes, one such foul resulted in Rob Ridley dropping a
well-flighted free kick onto Adam Green’s head and his pass found an unmarked Mark
McDonnell, who stooped to head past the static emergency keeper, Jordan Smith.
Chemfica
attempted to get back into the game, but failed to get their shots on target,
even when presented with decent opportunities courtesy of over-elaboration at
the back by a Main defence, who appeared to be labouring under the
misapprehension that their impersonations of Baresi and Maldini would win the
game and plaudits for their skills. Thankfully, we were not punished and soon
the tight and even game swung decisively away from the visitors. Without any other options, Chemfica centre
half Smith had been pressed into service between the sticks and his lack of
natural keeping tendencies was ruthlessly exposed right on half time when he
fumbled a catch and Josh Nicholson lashed the loose ball home to double the
score.
After
the break, Smith again juggled a free kick from substitute Jordan Stephenson,
but his goal survived, as did the Main’s when Callum Elliott made two blinding
stops, both with his feet, in the space of 20 seconds. It seemed as if the home
goal was leading a charmed life s two successive crosses from the right passed
by everyone and rolled out to safety. Then Smith redeemed himself with a good
sprawling save from substitute Jay Errington, but he was powerless to keep out
Errington’s next effort, which flew past his despairing leap in the 83rd
minute, putting Percy Main 3-0 up and making the points safe after an enjoyable
game.
Killingworth 1 Percy Main
Amateurs 1
In
the bleak midwinter of 2011, Killingworth hosted Percy Main on a bitter January
afternoon that produced not a single notable effort on target in a wholly
unremarkable stalemate. For me, the single most memorable event of the whole
turgid 90 minutes was the single most unpleasant taste experience I’ve ever
endured, when I took an ill-advised gulp of a mug of Bovril that I’d topped up
with milk, in the mistaken belief it was coffee. These days, such beverage
disasters are off the Agenda at Amberley Park, as Killingworth’s well-appointed
clubhouse boasts not one, but two top of the range Rijo robotic vending
baristas, serving an array of freshly ground brews. Such is the variety on
offer that I took so long in choosing my eventual option (Decaffeinated Latte
Macchiato) at the start of the game that I missed kick off. As I made my way
from clubhouse to pitch side through incessant, driving rain, my attention was
drawn to Killingworth’s imposing front man Marcelino De Junior slaloming
through the Main defence, going round Callum Elliott and only failing to tap
into an empty net after a desperate lunging block by about three visiting
defenders. On remarking what an escape this was, I was informed Killingworth
were already in the lead, having scored within the opening 30 seconds, in a
move missed by the assembled travelling support.
For
the opening 25 minutes, the game continued in such a pattern, as the Main
struggled to contain the marauding De Junior and his strike partner Lewis
Burns, as well as failing to make the most of any possession that did come our
way. Eventually, the Villagers began to gain a toehold on the game, especially
down the left hand side, where the excellent Harry Twigg, who was immaculate
all game, struck up a good understanding with the eternally lively and often
dangerous Jay Errington. Twice before the break, Twigg created opportunities
for Errington, who was also profiting from the belligerence and graft of target
man Nicky Whitelaw, that saw the first deflected over and the second strike the
top of the bar. At 1-0 down at the interval, Percy Main were still very much in
the contest.
The
second half saw the incessant rain become almost torrential. Pools of standing
water on the touchline hinted at the gluey surface on the pitch itself.
However, despite such onerous conditions, the Main stuck at their task and
grabbed an equaliser on 70 minutes. Seconds after lifting a good chance over
the bar, Jordan Stephenson collected a ball out wide on the right, drove
forward and fired home a fine low effort after cutting inside. In the aftermath,
as Killingworth dropped deeper, it seemed as if the visitors might push on to
claim all 3 points, but Killingworth, ably marshalled in centre midfield by
talented and experienced Jordan Laidler, dug deep to ensure both sides were to
be content with a point apiece from an absorbing encounter on a filthy
afternoon.
Ponteland United 2 Percy
Main Amateurs 1
Percy
Main Amateurs saw their last remaining chance of silverware in the 2022/2023
season disappear as they bowed out of the Bill Gardner Cup at the second round
stage, losing 2-1 away to Ponteland United. On account of another cup game
taking place at Wembley on Sunday, many of the Northern Alliance’s George
Dobbins and Bill Gardner cup games were moved to the Friday night. So it was
that the Villagers turned out under lights, on a 4G pitch at the expansive,
redeveloped Ponteland Leisure Centre complex.
While
there were to be no complaints from the Percy camp at the final outcome,
initial signs were of an away win, as the Main took the game to their hosts
from the off. Playing into a stiff, diagonal wind as volleys of icy rain fell
on proceedings, the Main had an early escape when Mark McDonnell headed a
Ponteland effort off the line, with keeper Callum Elliott beaten. Elliott did
distinguish himself on 20 minutes, when he made a splendid block from ex-PMA
striker Joe Rowan’s full-blooded volley. From this save, the Main broke away
and Jordan Stephenson put a good chance wide of the far post. This was a
temporary reprieve for Ponteland, as the impressive Harry Twinn’s delightful
cross to the back post was only clawed away at the last second by home keeper
Grady Wilson. Luckily for the Main, the ball fell to McDonnell who made no
mistake from close range.
The
score remained 1-0 to the Main at the break, but from seeming comfortable at
the midway point, there happened a change of fortune in the second period as
Ponteland enjoyed almost total control from then on in. Both of their goals
were scored by that man Rowan; the first on 54 minutes saw him draw keeper
Elliott before coolly slotting the ball home between the custodian’s legs. The
second, and decisive, goal was a more instinctive, predatory finish, with Rowan
responding to a loose ball in the area that had rebounded off the away team’s
crossbar, by lashing it into the net from 8 yards out. Subsequently, despite
one mazy run by Elliott that was redolent of former Paraguay stopper Jose Luis
Chilavert, then ended with a crude lunge on him inside the opposition half, the
Main did not unduly trouble a composed Ponteland outfit who deservedly took
their place in the quarter finals.
Rutherford 2 Percy Main 0
There
are two things you can bank on when visiting Rutherford’s excellent Beggarswood
home at the foot of Lobley Hill. Firstly, the weather will always be inclement
at this frozen outcrop on the outer edge of Gateshead. Secondly, in contrast to
the weather, the welcome off the pitch is as warm as the prevailing winds are
cold, which is most welcome as, other than a Tony Browell winner back in 2010,
I struggle to recall any trip to Farnacres that didn’t end in a comprehensive
defeat. We had another one of those on this instance, as the home side’s
powerful number 9 Amir Moore, led the Main defence a merry dance all afternoon.
It was both fitting, and a major surprise that it had taken so long, when he
put the home side ahead midway through the second half, following an excellent
piece of control to take the ball in his stride and outpace the retreating
Villagers’ defence, before deftly tucking the ball under the helpless Callum
Elliott, who was faultless in his handling and positional work all afternoon.
The
game had started in a tight and cagey fashion, with neither side able to get
any of the sporadic attempts on goal on target, leaving both keepers completely
underemployed for the opening thirty minutes. The two most serious attempts in
the opening period were both by Rutherford. A corner into the near post caused
chaos on 37 minutes and only good fortune saw the ball scrambled away. There
was no luck about Elliott’s superb diving save on 40 minutes, when he held onto
Scott Goldsmith’s low effort, after excellent work by the tireless Moore.
After
the break, things remained tight, but the Main had the better of things around
the hour mark. Muscular frontman Connor Gales profited from a sliced clearance
by keeper Aaron Burn, but failed to pick out a team mate who could have knocked
a better pass into an unguarded net. Sadly, when it came to efforts on target,
Alfie Livermore’s decent shot into Burn’s midriff came in injury time with the
score 2-0. After Moore had put Rutherford ahead, Percy attempted to push
higher, leaving them open to a sucker punch on the break. Thus Dylan Noble’s
break into the Main half, where he neatly sidestepped the despairing challenge
of onrushing Elliott, was not a surprise. However, it still required some
aplomb to curl a neat finish into the roof of the net from almost on the
touchline. Again
the Main came up short on the road and again, we could have no complaints at
the result.
Handwashing
Because
football fans carry with them an inherent and instinctive prejudice, it is
probably unrealistic to expect an articulate and perceptive response to the PIF
takeover of Newcastle United, whether in favour of it or against. Obviously,
the most vehement opponents of Newcastle’s supposed new found wealth are local
rivals Sunderland. However, one does not need to be a dyed in the wool Geordie
to realise that those on Wearside screaming their disgust from the rooftops and
displaying such new found enthusiasm for Amnesty International’s pronouncements
on the deal, is a philosophical standpoint based on less than secure
foundations. Similarly, followers of teams that have developed, for sometimes
impossible to accurately divine reasons, an animus towards the Magpies, in
particular Aston Villa and Everton, express their disapproval in somewhat less
than convincing terms. To be taken seriously, it would seem obvious that trying
to persuade Newcastle fans could be a better tactic than simply insulting them
in gross and offensive terms. However, that’s never going to happen, is it?
When irate empty vessels take to social media and compare Newcastle United to
Al Qaeda or the Taliban, it doesn’t take a great deal of nous to realise that
Islamophobia plays a huge part in the opposition to Newcastle United’s majority
ownership. In some ways, I suppose this is less gratuitously offensive than
mocking minority owner Amanda Staveley’s facial features, which have been
affected by her medical condition, Huntington’s Disease. Google it; the
prognosis isn’t great, to say the least.
As
regards the potential for internecine strife among Newcastle United fans on the
subject of the club’s ownership; there probably isn’t any. While there is a
small, if not insignificant, pressure group called NUFC Against Sportswashing,
their “silent protest” outside the Chelsea game last November attracted the
grand total of 8 demonstrators. Bearing in mind their leader, Denver Humbert,
hasn’t lived in Newcastle for 40 years and has been resident in the Basque
Country since 1992, I think it is fair to say this particular crusade won’t get
very far. Back on Planet Earth, I
literally only know of 3 people who have jacked in going to the games on the
grounds that their conscience wouldn’t allow their continued attendance. Fair
play to them, but it is instructive to compare their stance to the literally
thousands upon thousands of former match going Mags who gave up season tickets,
me and my son included, while Mike Ashley owned the club. While not seeking to
in any way compare the activities of the two sets of owners (Ashley may have
been a wilfully destructive tyrant, but he’s not defenestrated any members of
the LGBT+ community or stoned women to death for extramarital sex, as far as
I’m aware), it is impossible to downplay the enduring hatred on Tyneside for
Ashley and the whole Sports Direct circus. Therefore, to celebrate his
departure and show gratitude to new owners who have invested in the team and
assisted in the reanimation of a moribund club, is not necessarily a way of
tacitly supporting genocide in Yemen. To suggest otherwise is mendacious in the
extreme.
However,
if the current constituency of match going supporters are almost uniformly
appreciative of the current ownership, there does still seem to be a growing
fissure among the fan base, which was brought into the public eye after the
Carabao Cup defeat to Manchester United. This loss was not unexpected, bearing
in mind Man United’s stellar form over the last few months, which contrasted
markedly with Newcastle’s recent lack of a cutting edge. Not only was Nick Pope
suspended and Bruno Guimaraes just returning from a 3 game ban, but Callum
Wilson has been woefully out of form ever since returning from the World Cup.
Newcastle’s last brilliant performance was away to Leicester on Boxing Day and
Wilson was injured for that, allowing Chris Wood, senselessly sold to
Nottingham Forest, to lead the line brilliantly. He would have been a great
option to bring off the bench at Wembley, as the half fit and seemingly
uninterested Wilson barely had a kick all game.
Reading
the comments on social media, travelling Newcastle fans, of which there were as
many in the capital without tickets for the game as there were those possessing
briefs, split almost exactly down the middle in their response to events. One
half talked about a brilliant weekend, a sense of joy at the reborn club, the
magnificent support in Trafalgar Square on the Saturday night and a hope for
the future that the disappointment of the game itself will be swept away by
future events. Basically, an optimistic and slightly naïve take on events, but
certainly preferable to the peevish, niggardly naysaying of an elderly, sour
faced element, grimacing in their Ebay Belstaff snides at the very
thought of the younger support actually daring to enjoy themselves in
defeat. Decrying the “loser mentality”
of showing happiness after simply reaching a final, calling out the “small
time” attitudes of those who partied in Trafalgar Square and bellyaching that
the 33,000 fans in the ground simply sat and watched the game, instead of
presumably turning it into a seething pit of hate, these grouchy Grandpas in
their Peaky Blinders hats, furrowed their already lined brows by taking out
their frustrations on fellow fans. One plank even tweeted that the Newcastle
support was “just like a home game.” Well, there’s a surprise…
To
me, the pessimists are looking at the wrong targets. If you want someone to
blame for the defeat in the final and the loss of form before that, look at the
ownership, not your fellow fan. A half a season of superb, high tempo, relentless
pressing football was always going to take it out of a team that probably only
has 3 fringe players of the standard of the first XI. Ask yourself why, if
money is no object, more players weren’t identified and brought in during
January, other than the exciting, though cup-tied, Anthony Gordon. Question why
Chris Wood was sold and Karl Darlow sent out on loan to warm the bench at Hull
City. After another loss, this time to Man City, respectably though the team
performed, there is still the glaring lack of goals scored and a trio of woeful
misses to look back on. Unfortunately, the ownership of the club may not be
sympathetic to the loss of form endured by Wilson that is at the heart of this
malaise. Unless Howe does something pretty special in the last 14 games of the
season, which will probably require a top 4 finish, he may find himself heading
for the exit, if the power brokers at SJP are taking this project seriously.
However,
I’ve a feeling that the sheer size of the task and length of time required to
turn Newcastle United into regular and viable challengers for top honours, will
be too much of an ask for the PIF and their hangers-on the Ruben Brothers to
buy into. I realise I may be in the minority here, but I feel questions about
the levels of interest of the current ownership of Newcastle United will not be
relevant in the longer term as, despite the gushing sentiments from the
boardroom following the cup final defeat and Staveley’s pronouncements at some
football business symposium in the days after, I don’t see the Saudi investors
hanging around in the long term. Guess what? I don’t worry about it too much.
Sure we’ll miss stellar talents like Bruno and Botman, but at least our hands
and consciences will be clean. If their departure comes to pass then, and only
then, I will truly have my club back.
Seaton
Delaval: 18-03-23
Percy
Main Amateurs 7 Whitley Bay Reserves 1
After the kind of goal
drought Newcastle United have endured for most of 2023, Percy Main got back on
the scoresheet in emphatic fashion against Whitley Bay Reserves at Purvis Park.
This was the second time The Main have hit 7 this campaign, but with the greatest
respect to Whickham Under 23s who were the victims in a Bill Gardner Cup tie
the first time this happened, notching this many goals in a league game is of
far greater importance. On a cool but dry day, when the dire warnings of
apocalyptic snowstorms failed to come to pass, the Main could actually have
found themselves a goal down in the opening minute, when Ryan Farrier burst
through the home defence, only for Callum Elliott to pull off a blinding save
to his right. Soon after, a delay to proceedings, when the punctilious
assistant on the stand side insisted on Whitley’s Prince Daikno taping over his
earrings, seemed to draw the Bay’s early fire. From that point on, the
Villagers enjoyed utter dominance across the entire pitch.
The recalled Alfie Livermore
helped himself to a hat trick, opening the scoring on 11 minutes, but
intelligently swapping feet in the box and firing across keeper Dan Mullen and
into the far corner. Seconds later it was 2-0 when a free kick on the near
touchline, given after Livermore was impeded, was floated over the head of the
hapless, scrambling Mullen by the impressive Kieran Brannen. Percy Main’s other
attacking threats Jay Errington and Connor Gales were both denied by Mullen,
though it was Elliott in the home goal who made the best save, on 26 minutes,
taking two bites at the cherry to foil the luckless Farrier.
By the half hour, the game
was over as a meaningful contest. Mullen saved again from a powerful, stinging
effort by Erring ton, but Livermore was on hand to make it 3-0 by tapping into
an empty net. Errington grew further frustrated when Mullen denied him with his
legs, but the loose ball was recycled to captain Mark McDonnell to stroke it
home. Gales then opened his account for PMA, when a shot from the edge of the
box took a slight deflection and wrongfooted Mullen to make it 5-0. The final
goal of the first period saw Brannen denied by the overworked Mullen, only for
Livermore to roll the loose ball into the net, making it 6-0 at half time.
To be fair to Whitley
Reserves, and the excellent Mullen, they tightened up considerably after the
break and were only breached after 72 minutes, when Livermore set up Ben
Bradburn to finish stylishly. Mullen had previously denied the Main sub on
three occasions. Indeed, Whitley gained a consolation for their hard work on 78
minutes, when a good move down the left saw Connor Birosahi force the ball
home. The final action saw Dan Souter receive a harsh red card for foul and
abusive language as the game meandered to a close, which was a rather
disappointing way to end such a good performance by the Villagers.
Sunday Evening Run Out
So
how did you celebrate our 7-1 thumping of Whitley Bay Reserves? Personally, I
had a few pints with Shelley and Geordie in New York Club to toast our success,
but only after I’d endured 2 hours of semi-gruelling physical exercise, in the
shape of indoor nets with Tynemouth CC at South North indoor cricket centre in
Gosforth. Now you may be wondering why we’re doing that when there was still
snow on the ground? Well, if you think that’s daft, you may be even more
confused to learn I’d already played a game of indoor cricket this year for
Tynemouth, at the same venue. It was one of the proudest Sunday afternoons of
my life.
One
of the hardest things about doing Dry January I always find, is the temptation
caused by the sheer volume of drink lying around the house after New Year. I’d
got through the first week back at graft without any alcohol temptation related
mishaps, but then Saturday 7th came along and, on the back of Percy
Main’s home loss to Rutherford in the Alliance League Cup and then Chris Wood’s
inexplicable miss at Hillsborough, a bottle of dark rum and half a one of
Spanish citrus gin, seemed the best way to get happy. Things weren’t so amusing
next morning when I woke up after my phone pinged. It was a text from my old
mate Martin Pollard.
Poll’s
a good lad; off spin legend for my beloved Tynemouth. One of his TCC duties is
organising the club’s annual tilt at indoor cricket over the winter. Before
lockdown, I’d twice followed Tynemouth to Old Trafford for the northern final
of the national indoor 6-a-side competition, only a step away from the grand
finale at Lords. Things aren’t so grand for the team from Preston Avenue these
days; despite beating Cowgate, subsequent losses to Benwell Hill and South
North in the North East group competition, meant there was no chance of
progressing in 2023. The final game against Seaton Burn was therefore a total
dead rubber. Presumably, that’s why I got asked to fill the vacant slot.
Despite the raging juniper-fuelled hangover that afflicted my brain, I said yes
immediately, failing to recognise that the 8pm start would prevent me from
watching Call the Midwife. Result, eh?
Being
serious, it is an absolute honour to be asked to represent Tynemouth at
whatever level, wherever, whenever and in whatever competition. Despite not
having played indoor cricket since about Year 8, I would not have missed this
opportunity for the world. So it was, in a snug-fitting, borrowed TCC hoodie
(we third teamers don’t require multicoloured pyjamas at our level of the game)
and my padded goalkeeper strides, I trod the green vinyl at South North’s
indoor cricket centre, on the darkest day in Tynemouth’s proud 176-year history.
Having refuelled in the afternoon with several gallons of Vimto and a
bunch of bananas, I took my place alongside 5 first teamers (Phil Morse, Andrew
Smith, Joe Snowdon, Richard Stanyon and Poll) in as good a state as could be
expected for a 58-year-old with a raging hangover.
Briefly,
indoor cricket is a 6-a-side game, where batters retire at 25, but can come
back. Indeed, you play last batter standing. Runs are scored by hitting the
ball against the side or back netting (1), far end netting behind the bowler (4
or 6), or by running (2). You can be caught off the roof, side or back netting.
The general standard is 12 overs a side and it’s expected that 5 of the
fielding side get to bowl, which is what caused me a little unease as I’m not
used to mixing with such elevated company, well apart from my famous appearance
at Shotley Bridge in the NEPL 1st XI T20 competition last year of
course…
We
batted first and did alright. Smudger and Morsey both got to 25 and had to
retire, while Stanners and Snowy holed out, smashing the hard but light hollow
plastic ball around the place. This was my cue to simper nervously to the
crease to join Poll. His knee reconstruction surgery and my age and heft meant
quick singles weren’t on the agenda. Indeed, in similar situations I’ve seen
batters deliberately get themselves out (hello Poll), to get the big hitters
back in. In the event I did get out first ball, but totally unintentionally and
perhaps a touch unluckily. Unbelievably I made a good connection (we’ll not say
timed it though) and on a Saturday it could have gone to the rope, but instead
a tallish bloke stood at approximately mid-wicket, reached up and snaffled it.
Could have been a contender…
Morsey
continued the good work and we amassed 127/5 from our 12 overs. The rule of
thumb for indoor cricket is that you’ll never win unless you’ve set the
opposition at least 10 an over. When I’d played at Shotley Bridge, first XI
skipper Matt Brown knew exactly what to do with me in the field; stick me at
short fine leg out of harm’s way. In the end I fielded the ball once and found
my ideal role in telling Barry Stewart whether the batter was left or
right-handed, so he knew where to stand. Similarly for this one, I was kept as
far from the action as possible at long on. I think I got to touch the ball
about 5 times in total, including one of the most inaccurate shies at the
stumps you’ll ever see. It looked like I was suffering from triple vision,
though there is the fact that until my recent physiotherapy on my shoulder, I
couldn’t throw overarm for about 3 years.
When
fielding, I found it difficult to judge the flight of the ball, especially
after it bounced. The thing seemed to stop abruptly and fly lower than I
expected. Luckily though, it is reasonably easy to bowl with. I did my usual
mincing 3-step and then deliver, without attempting to do much other than get
it on target and, being honest, I didn’t do badly. A couple of overs for 15
runs, including a wide (not leg side incredibly), when I had to bowl at a
left-hander as well, wasn’t a bad effort. Smudger also ran one of theirs out
while I was bowling, which I’m claiming as a wicket for no good reason.
Incredibly, all 6 of their batters were run out. I wouldn’t say we were the
greatest team in the field, but they seemed to panic with the victory target in
sight. The result was we won by 20 runs with an over to spare. It may have been
a meaningless game in the greater scheme of things but taking part in it is a
memory I’ll treasure forever.
