Why I will not be attending Northern League Day

( First published on http://northernleagueday.wordpress.com/2011/04/06/why-i-wont-be-at-northern-league-day/ )

I like the Hudson Brothers; they watch amateur football and they drink Real Ale. They are my kind of fellas and I take my hat off to them in respect of what they’ve done for Ryton FC and many other shoestring operations in the local area with their Northern League Day project on April 9^th. Whilst I will be in the company of the Hudson Brothers (who appear to be named after the kind of posse that would have gone searching for Billy The Kid) on the evening of Northern League Day, drinking fine hand pulled beers in a number of establishments in the Ouseburn Valley, I will not be present at either of the football matches they’ve identified as places to call in on during that day. Despite the appearance of some arcane phenomenon entitled the Socrates Bloggers, neither Whickham v Washington at 11.30, nor Ryton v Billingham Synthonia at 3pm, nor even the chance to quality test brews at The Boathouse in Wylam (named Northumberland’s best pub by CAMRA in 2010) will keep me from my preferred destination; Purvis Park, home of Percy Main Amateurs FC, where a Pin Point Recruitment Northern Alliance Premier Division game versus Carlisle City kicks off at 2.30pm.

Several times in my life, I’ve found myself as close to nirvana as a man could hope to be. Suffice to say, if I could watch Teenage Fanclub playing a greatest hits set, supported by The Wedding Present and Trembling Bells, while imbibing the Bass they sell in The Tynemouth Lodge or a 2008 Yellowtail Pinot Grigio, with Laura’s Thai Green Curry to follow up, I’d die a happy man. If those events could take place at Purvis Park after a comprehensive home win by Percy Main, I’d go to my grave in a state of ecstatic peace.

To say I love football is underplaying my hand a little. At approaching 47, I play in goal 3 times a week, still watch a minimum of 2 live games (of course I don’t have Sky or ESPN) and spend huge swathes of my waking time writing, talking and thinking about football. Only classic indie and folk music, ultra left wing politics and my loved ones get anywhere near as much head space as football does. Yet, for many years, I hated football. Or rather, I hated what Newcastle United’s version of being a football fan did to me, as I had allowed the all encompassing, grasping, and indifferent social behemoth from St James Park to render me anonymous. Thank you so much to Alan Shearer, Michael Owen and Mike Ashley for relegating the club in 2009 and freeing me from its clutches. Last Saturday the nailed wolves 4-1; the only way it impacted on my consciousness was irritation at the number of barcodes getting off the 306 and 308 on the Coast Road as I cycled back from a 3-1 reverse at Heaton Stannington. Emotional progress; yes?

Obviously, I’ve been in love with the amateur game in the local area for nigh on two decades, with Benfield my chosen Northern League side. Yet to me, the Northern League is not the chance for a bit of rough away from the Premiership pretty boys, it is a whiff of almost unimaginable glamour; £6 in, floodlights, proper seats and replica shirts. We don’t get any of those things in the Alliance. Instead there are 48 clubs in three divisions, from Alnwick to Murton and Cullercoats to Hexham, with every player, committee member and fan grafting like hell to keep teams going in the face of mounting costs, minimal receipts (other than ourselves, most sides don’t even bother to charge entry) and rapacious clubs from higher in the pyramid poaching promising players.

On a typical Saturday, I’ll arrive at Purvis Park around 1pm after playing in Over 40s league in the morning. Most of the rest of the committee have been there since noon. During the course of a match day I’ll collect gate money, serve in the canteen, take down the posts at full time, sweep the dressing rooms, help prepare the post match buffet and various other tasks, before heading home around 6pm to write up the match report. For this privilege, it costs me about £10 a week in various weekly draws and lottery schemes the club runs, so why do I do it? Because I love Percy Main Amateurs. Here is a football club that appreciates what I do for it and gives me back a million times more than I put in.

I hate Niall Quinn, but I understand what he means when he says the Mackems got under his skin, despite no obvious connection with the place. I joined Percy Main as an outsider in 2009, having watched them for a couple of years, because I was honoured to be asked. I will never leave. Why not come and visit us to see what life is like below the glitz and paparazzi of Ryton against Synners? Even better, why don’t you follow the trail blazed by the Hudson Brothers and help organise a Northern Alliance Day? I’ll assist….

http://www.percymainafc.co.uk/

(This also appeared in a slightly different form under the tile "Home Comforts" in the Percy Main v Carlisle City programme on April 9th 2011)

Elsewhere in today’s programme, there is an article taken from the “Gannin Away” blog written by Andy Hudson about his trip to see Percy Main beat Ponteland 1-0 in the NFA Senior Benevolent Bowl. This was written a couple of months after his brother Michael wrote a similar piece for his blog “The Accidental Groundhopper” about our Challenge Cup win over Carlisle back in September. I like the Hudson Brothers; they watch amateur football and they drink Real Ale. They are my kind of fellas and they’ve organised the inaugural Northern League Day that is taking place elsewhere in the region today. Whilst I will be in the company of the Hudson Brothers (who appear to be named after the kind of posse that would have gone searching for Billy The Kid) this evening, drinking fine hand pulled beers in a number of establishments in the Ouseburn Valley, I will not be present at either of the football matches they’ve identified as places to call in on during that day; neither Whickham v Washington at 11.30, nor Ryton v Billingham Synthonia at 3pm, nor even the chance to quality test brews at The Boathouse in Wylam (named Northumberland’s best pub by CAMRA in 2010) will keep me from Purvis Park and our clash with Carlisle City.

Several times in my life, I’ve found myself as close to nirvana as a man could hope to be. Suffice to say, if I could watch Teenage Fanclub playing a greatest hits set, supported by The Wedding Present and Trembling Bells, while imbibing the Bass they sell in The Tynemouth Lodge or a 2008 Yellowtail Pinot Grigio, with Laura’s Thai Green Curry to follow up, I’d die a happy man. If those events could take place at Purvis Park after a comprehensive home win by Percy Main, I’d go to my grave in a state of ecstatic peace.

Obviously, I’ve been in love with the amateur game in the local area for nigh on two decades, yet to me, the Northern League is not the chance for a bit of rough away from the Premiership pretty boys, it is a whiff of almost unimaginable glamour; £6 in, floodlights, proper seats, annual trips to Wembley and replica shirts. We don’t get any of those things in the Alliance. Instead there are 48 clubs in three divisions, from Alnwick to Murton and Cullercoats to Hexham, with every player, committee member and fan grafting like hell to keep teams going in the face of mounting costs, minimal receipts and rapacious clubs from higher in the pyramid poaching promising players.

On a typical Saturday, I’ll arrive at Purvis Park around 1pm after playing in Over 40s league in the morning. Most of the rest of the committee have been there since noon. During the course of a match day I’ll collect gate money, serve in the canteen, take down the posts at full time, sweep the dressing rooms, help prepare the post match buffet and various other tasks, before heading home around 6pm to write up the match report. Why do I do it? Because I love Percy Main Amateurs. Here is a football club that appreciates what I do for it and gives me back a million times more than I put in.

I hate Niall Quinn, but I understand what he means when he says the Mackems got under his skin, despite no obvious connection with the place. I joined Percy Main as an outsider in 2009, having watched them for a couple of years, because I was honoured to be asked. I will never leave. I would love some of those who are dipping their toe in to non-league football during Northern League Day to come and visit us to see what life is like below the glitz and paparazzi of Ryton against Synners. Even better would be if one of them followed the trail blazed by the Hudson Brothers and helped organise a Northern Alliance Day? I’d assist in any way that I could.

Howyis?

(First published in Percy Main v Walker Central programme April 6th 2011)

Well, the business end of the season is well and truly with us as the visit of Walker Central is the first of an eye watering 10 league games in April. While the Northern League continues to beat its breast and howl over the thought of playing games beyond the end of April, at least the Alliance allows us to play until the last Saturday in May. Of course, that’s not the end of the season for me. I fly out to Dublin on Monday 30th May with the intention of taking in the Tallaght Corinthians versus Ex-Big Club at the Halting Site, as well as Hunky Dorys v Seagulls, or Shamrock Rovers v Bohemians and Drogheda v Bray Wanderers to the uninitiated, before flying home in time for the Percy Main end of season do in the Cricket Club on the Saturday night.

The Irish season kicked off in early March and, as expected, the Premier Division is seeing the appalling Shamrock Rovers walking away with things, while averaging an excellent 6,000 for home games. After 5 games, they’re 4 points clear of a surprisingly resilient Bohemians, who despite near bankruptcy and the repeated rumours of the imminent departure of manager Pat Fenlon, are hanging on in there. At the bottom Drogheda United seem more likely than even the equally impecunious Galway United to become detached from the rest. New manager Mick Cooke arrived from Monaghan to replace Bobby Browne, who walked out in pre-season, stating it was “My Prerogative” to do so. Anyway….

In D1, things are as fascinating as ever, really. As ever, no team seems head and shoulders above the rest. Shelboune and Cork City have the best crowds and JP McManus is bankrolling Limerick (a city that regards football as the 5th choice sport after horses, GAA, rugby and knife crime), but Monaghan seem the most interesting with quintessential Dub gobshite Roddy Collins, famous for being Ireland’s best dressed man in his trademark Louis Copeland tin of fruit and nearly bankrupting Carlisle when he led them down to the Conference, in the hot seat. At least it keeps him off de telly. Longford (aka De Town) have signed former Newcastle gambling addict Keith Gillespie, for how long we shall see. Crowds as ever remain a problem, as a contributor to the excellent www.foot.ie pointed out when discussing a game which, admittedly did coincide with Ireland trouncing England at rugby;

“I counted 47 at Salthill v Athlone tonight, which is astonishing because there were more cars in the car park than people at the game. One guy kept moving so that figure could easily be 46 or 48. There were probably more people in the Clubhouse talking about the rugby match than there were watching the game on the rain sodden pitch. About 20 die hards from Athlone who cheered their late equaliser like 80,000 in Camp Nou seeing Messi stick in the winner past Real Madrid.”

Away from the league, two cup competitions are making progress. The cross border Setanta Shield, which attracted 50 to see UCD 0 Lisburn Distillery 0 in the opening game, is at the semi-final stage. Sligo Rovers are paired with Shamrock Rovers as the two top teams slug it out, while Dundalk meet Cliftonville, the North’s only representative, in a tie that could be for the unofficial Dissident Republican Cup!! The semis are on 4 & 18th April, with the final on 14th May in Belfast. Or not, depending on who’s in it.

Meanwhile the EA Sports League Cup is at the last 16 stage, in 4 supposedly regional groups decided on which side of the Liffey a side is from, meaning Shelbourne and Monaghan are in Group A and UCD and Wexford in Group C. Typically this will be the second round, after 2 preliminary ties (including De Town 2 De Udder Town 1) and 9 round 1 games. As it is the League Cup and Ireland only has 21 league teams, 6 non-league sides were invited to guest to make it seem as much of a proposition by Fibonacci as a sporting contest. Fanad United, FC Carlow, Cobh Ramblers, Dynamo Tralee and the Kerry League Select all bowed out gracefully, while Donegal’s Cockhill Celtic humiliated a Galway United side who’d won away to Bohemians a few days earlier, to earn a home game against holders Sligo. Games played on Easter Monday. I’ll continue to keep you updated on things, but remember every Friday in April sees a live game at www.rte.ie with Derry v Dundalk on this Friday. I’ll be watching.

Mind Forged Manacles

(Originally published in Percy Main v Ashington Colliers programme on 19th March 2011)

Why does cold reality never match up to our fond imaginings? Take the Premier League results of Saturday March 5^th. Arsenal were odds on to beat a Mackem side who’d lost their last 4, Man United had to be fancied to bounce back away to the hated Dirties, resolute Villa would no doubt get at least a point at the Reebok and Newcastle were shoo-ins to complete a double over Everton. If those results had happened, The Magpies would be currently sat in 6^th place, with the chance of a Europa League spot and we’d all be referring to the Mackems as North East Crisis Club sunderland. Instead, with none of them happening, Newcastle fans of my acquaintance have now decided that, since their team managed to lose their first game in 5 and second in 11, leaving them in 9^th spot, 6 points above the drop zone with 9 games to go, that they might be going down. Have some belief for goodness sake!

The reason for this witless gloom is said to be the threadbare nature of the squad and, in particular, the absence of Joey Barton. This may be a controversial thing to say, but you have to feel sorry for Barton. Having been largely a passenger for the first 3 years of his time on Tyneside, he’s been brilliant this season (alongside Nolan and Tiote, whose 6 year contract is viewed with suspicion by those I’ve talked with) and was ready to sign a new contract on the day Carroll was sold. That deal meant all bets were off and the Gallowgate rumour mill has Barton not injured, but on strike. As the press who, in the shape of The Grauniad’s Lousie Taylor, fingered Barton for a non-existent Nazi salute celebration versus Villa and an imagined elbow against Liverpool, regularly hang him out to dry without a scintilla of hard evidence, have not picked up on this, I think we can assume it is fiction. However, just imagine the reaction of the tabloid hacks and FA top brass if Barton had shot a work experience kid with an air rifle, like the loathsome Ashley Cole has been identified as doing, or enacted either the Wigan elbow like Rooney or Carragher’s challenge on Nani. We’d be talking lifetime bans.

I’ve spent a bit of time with semi organised Newcastle fans of late. Firstly, the day bitter old Kevin Krackpot launched another misguided, populist tirade at the club he walked out on twice and then sued for as much as he could get, which Derek Llambias correctly pointed out could have caused Newcastle United irreparable fiscal damage, a “meeting of the minds” involving several supporters’ groups, took place in the Irish Club, to try and chew the fat about where to go next as regards fan representation and organisation on an official and unofficial level. Former NUST committee members Bill Corcaran, Steve Hastie and Neil Mitchell called the meeting, as the club had hinted at being amenable to representatives of supporters being invited to discuss burning issues among the support with NUFC executives. Newcastle United have made it clear that they will not talk to NUST, so this symposium was called to explore this possibility.

In attendance were representatives from Toon Talk fanzine, as well as many pressure groups, websites, message boards and bloggers. The guiding principle from the off was that any future organisation wouldn’t be an organisation, but an umbrella group, comprising a loose amalgamation of any interested parties, where all opinions and viewpoints were welcomed and not a new, fully constituted fan group. This seemed important to me, as that route involved a lot of work and the chance to run in to the kind of negativity that NUST’s impotence has engendered among fans. What occurred to me was that Newcastle’s support is as fractured and contradictory as the messages coming out of SJP; at the same time as the L7 singing section is closed, a brilliant 10 year season ticket deal is offered. Barton doesn’t sign a contract and Enrique looks like being punted as well, while Tiote pens a massively long deal. No wonder those at our meeting displayed a massive range of opinions, which was entirely in keeping with the breadth of support Newcastle United has.

Meanwhile, despite the fact NUST has died (17 at their AGM showed that), new Chair Norman Watson embarked on a bolting of the stable door charm offensive, sending two emails in successive days in early March to invite me to a presentation on fan ownership by a representative from Supporters Direct at Northumbria University. I didn’t go, mainly because I was working, but I’ve heard nothing substantial emerged. Basically it reinforced my belief that the person at our meeting on the Tuesday who advocated Trotskyist entrism to take over NUST for the next election had it wrong; NUST is irredeemable. The only way forward is the umbrella talking shop reporting to Messrs Corcoaran, Hastie and Mitchell, with them taking the consensus of involved fans to a meeting with the club.

Two cheers for democracy eh?

Northern League Day: April 9th 2011

On April 9th, Andy & Michael Hudson have organised Northern League Day, which is a commendable idea that you can read about here http://northernleagueday.wordpress.com/

My contribution to it is this piece about West Allotment Celtic who host Benfield in the Coach Lane Classico that day......

Ground Guide: Whitley Park (aka Blue Flames)

Northern League Day Fixture:

West Allotment Celtic v Newcastle Benfield

One of the enduring frustrations of following non-league football is the vagary of the fixture list. Same as The Premiership, the summer sees a comprehensive list of games published. However, at this level, the clubs are required to follow several masters who are in a strictly defined pecking order. First of all, the FA Cup, secondly the FA Vase, thirdly the County FA, fourthly the League cup and finally the League programme. Consequently, the best laid plans set out in July heat can be ruined before the leaves have left the trees. Even worse than the decisions of the Blue Blazers, are the effects of the climate on games.

This game, which is the only true derby that is taking place on Northern League Day, should have been played on Wednesday November 10^th. However, the notoriously porous Blue Flames turf, was declared unplayable after a couple of hours moderate drizzle, which necessitated me attending the horrific car crash game that was Newcastle United 1 Blackburn Rovers 2. As a Benfield fan, this is another reason to dislike West Allotment, even though I don’t really.

In fact, even as a Benfield fan, it is almost certain I won’t be at a Northern League game on Northern League Day as my Saturday responsibilities extend to following my first love, Percy Main Amateurs of the Northern Alliance Premier Division. Of course, the Alliance top brass keep their cards close to their chest, so as a result, we probably won’t find out whom we’re playing until a fortnight beforehand. However, I’ve been to Blue Flames often enough to know the ground intimately.

Looking at the games listed on April 9^th, I would say that every other Division One fixture is being played at grounds with more charm and more atmosphere, though not necessarily better facilities than Blue Flames. Whitley Park, to give it its proper name (Blue Flames is a nickname that dates back to when it was the British Gas sports complex, in the same way that Newcastle United’s adjoining training facility Darsley Park used to be the Civil Service Sport Ground), is owned by the Northumberland FA and while WAC are the principal tenants, it is used for all NFA representative games and cup finals, bar the Senior Cup which still takes place at SJP. Newcastle United have often used Blue Flames for reserve games and a particularly dire 0-0 with Everton on a Monday night in February 2004 destroyed the previously immaculate turf, as the club insisted the game went ahead so Craig Bellamy could get some match practice, though a game a week or so later when WAC lost 1-0 at home to Cray Wanderers in the last 8 of the FA Vase, watched by almost 1,500 punters, was equally culpable. As a result Whitley Park is often one of the first call-offs when the sky empties itself.

West Allotment Celtic, formed in 1928, initially played at Holystone, then moved to the Farm Ground in 1938, before arriving at Backworth Welfare in 1968, which was to be home until they became tenants of the Northumberland FA at Whitley Park in 2001. Having spent their formative years in the Tyneside Amateur League, Allotment’s glory period started in 1984 when they joined the Northern Alliance, where they won 8 titles before joining the Northern League in 2004, claiming the Second Division Championship in their debut season. They’ve stayed in the top flight ever since, but 11 straight league losses from November to the end of February saw the club tumble in to the bottom 3. Having seen them lose witlessly 2-0 at home to Tow Law on February 19^th and unluckily 2-1 at Benfield a few days later, they look doomed.

The easiest way to get to Blue Flames, which is on the A191 Whitley Road in Benton (post code NE12 9SF) by public transport, is by Metro. Don’t bother try to get a bus; there isn’t one. Get off at Benton. If you’ve travelled from the coast you’re on the correct side, but if you’ve come from town, walk underneath the tracks, and head up Station Road to the traffic lights about 100 yards ahead. At the lights cross the main A191 and turn left; Blue Flames is almost directly in front of you. Alternatively, for thirsty fans, get off at the previous / next stop Four Lane Ends. Come left out the Metro and take the first left on to the A191, which is Benton Front Street at that point. The first pub is the Benton Ale House, a charming, quiet spot with always a choice of 4 good quality Real Ales on offer. After that is the Black Bull, a TJ Bernard one room identikit noisy youngsters bar selling Magners and Carling, then thirdly is the excellent Ship, which always has a good selection of cask beers as well. There isn’t any fast food outlet, but all the pubs do food and there is a curry house and pizza place if you feel the need for a sit down job. I don’t mean a poo either.

Entrance at Blue Flames is £4 (£2 concessions), programmes (which used to be a superb effort by club Press Officer Stephen Allott) are £1 and there’s a golden goal raffle for 50p. There is a pricey bar selling keg beers (the Guinness isn’t bad) and a snack bar doing hot drinks and pies, which closes just after half time.

As far as the two clubs are concerned, this is a local rivalry, but not an ancient one as Benfield were only formed in 1989. West Allotment are a club with around 70 hard core fans, who are in their twilight years in the main. I do worry what will happen when the current committee get too decrepit to carry on. Relegation may not be kind for the club, though striker Nathan Roper, newly arrived from D2 Birtley where he bagged 20 goals, is a good signing and may have something to say about this sad state of affairs.

Benfield don’t have appreciably more fans, but they are younger, more enthusiastic, generally on the committee or at least involved. To a man they are proper East End Geordie lads. When Benfield won the League and Cup double in 2009, I went to the end of season do; it was at The Turbinia on the Fossway, in Walker, or Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalkaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa as people from Walker call it. They don’t stand on ceremony, but Paul Baker’s side are one of the best around. Players to look out for include keeper Andrew Grainger, a former public schoolboy who has been an England beach football international, centre half pairing the teak tough Kev Leighton and the cultured ex West Ham apprentice Phil Lumsden, the Walkergate Socrates Paul Anthony in midfield, chunky winger Adam Scope and superb natural finisher Michael Chilton, who started his career with WAC.

If I had to make a prediction, I’d go for West allotment Celtic 1 Newcastle Benfield 3. However, most importantly, I hope it’s a quality game with a good crowd, who show their faces at a non league game again.

A Brave & Valiant Few

(Originally published in Percy Main v Stocksfield programme 5th March 2011)

The 2010 Irish domestic football season ended in a triumphant vindication of the League of the Ireland when League Cup winners Sligo Rovers defeated Champions Shamrock Rovers 3-0 in a penalty shootout to win the FAI Cup in front of a crowd of 36,000 at the AVIVA Stadium, with Bit o’ Red keeper Ciaran Kelly saving all the spot kicks the Tallaght Corinthians fired at him. However, within weeks of the curtain coming down back in mid November, stories of clubs in serious financial trouble began to be heard.

Perhaps the most parlous tale involved Ireland’s oldest and arguably most highly respected team, Bohemians. As has been noted elsewhere, the Irish economy has been in a wee bit of bother since the property bubble burst in 2008. Big Club were caught up in this catastrophic crash when, against all their expectations and financial planning projections, they failed to sell their charming, atmospheric but decidedly decrepit Dalymount Park ground in Phibsborough on da nort soide to fund a move away to a new build stadium out by the airport. Having lost out in the race for the title to their hated cross city rivals Shamrock Rovers on the last day of last season, fiscal fissures immediately cracked their economic edifice wide apart, when their continued presence at the ground that has been their home since 1901 was confirmed. As a result, players didn’t get paid and several threatened to sue The Gypsies, who were issued with a winding up order.

After frantic behind the scenes fund raising and politicking, disaster was averted, no doubt by providing the kind of Paddy the Plasterer dig outs only Fianna Fail politicians are used to getting, and consequently the club managed to continue, despite only having 4 registered players, with all debts cleared by February 22^nd, enabling them to amass a new squad for the coming season, though not soon enough to allow them to play any pre season friendlies. It was touch and go for a while, but at least they survived, in the same way as a post Nick Leeson Galway United (he was their Chief Executive, I kid you not) and Limerick stayed afloat; by the skin of their teeth after successful appeals to the League of Ireland saw them granted the full trading licence needed to operate in the Airtricity League in 2011.

Sadly, one club have gone out of existence; namely Sporting Fingal. Formed as recently as 2007 to provide “football on the rates” for the new developments in the Swords area to the north of Dublin, Fingal were admitted to the league in 2008, following the demise of Kilkenny City. Playing their home games at the Morton Athletics stadium in front of about 200 spectators, the club strived for both a top down and bottom up approach, throwing money at the first team while trying to kickstart youth sections from U7 upwards. It all seemed to be going well, with promotion and the FAI Cup secured in 2009 and a respectable 4^th place in the Premier Division, as well as a decent pair of 2-3 reverses to Maritimo of Portugal in the Europa League qualifiers to show for their 2010 endeavours. All appeared to be heading in the right direction when a seemingly mutually beneficial decision to groundshare with the skint Bohs (I loved the irony of the oldest and newest clubs playing on the same turf), when all of a sudden on 10^th February a press release announced the club would be ceasing trading with immediate effect, following the desertion of presumed financial backers.

This announcement came 3 weeks before the start of the season but, hey, no problem, the FAI, who have gone from dedicating 8 down to 3 full time staff to oversee the Airtricity League, will sort it all out. The first decision made was to reprieve 2010’s bottom placed Premier Division club Drogheda from relegation, causing their manager Bobby Browne to offer his resignation with immediate effect, explaining that the reason for his departure was “My Prerogative.” It may have something to do with the club’s entire weekly budget being slightly over £1,200. Mind, in context the prize fund for the Airtricity League has declined from £2m to £300k for the season.

Anyway, the reprieve of the men from Hunky Dory Park brought the top flight back up to its full complement of 10 teams, though Galway United’s participation was only confirmed after their licence appeal was granted. If they’d been knocked down to D1 or worse, the 1990 sunderland precedent would have been enacted. As you’ll no doubt remember when Swindon were denied a place in the top flight after financial irregularities came to light, their place wasn’t given to 18^th place top division team Sheffield Wednesday or to 3^rd place D2 side Newcastle, but to play off losers sunderland who’d finished 6^th in the second tier. Same here; runners-up Waterford United would have been overlooked in favour of play-off losers Monaghan United. However, the Miracle of Terryland Park means the West’s still awake. Yet, the most, pronounced effect of Fingal’s demise is to be felt lower down, as Drogheda’s reprieve means the First Division will operate with 11 teams in 2011, which seems an utterly mystifying decision, considering Cobh Ramblers, who were a Premier Division side as recently as 2008, were deemed financially sound enough to be granted an A Championship Licence, but have not been invited to make up the numbers in the First Division for 2011, despite only losing by the odd goal in 5 in a D1 relegation play off with Salthill last November.

Incidentally, the A Championship is a competition for LoI reserve teams and 6 “strong” non-league sides, comprising Cobh plus Castlebar Celtic, Fanad United, FC Carlow, Tralee Dynamos and Tullamore Town, split in to two regional groups. Obviously the demise of Sporting Fingal Reserves means this competition is running one team short now. Perhaps the problems with the First Division can be addressed in Leinster House as Wexford Youths owner and Juventus season ticket holder Mick Wallace TD. The former property tycoon with debts estimated to be around the thirty five million mark, who looks like Peter Stringfellow force fed on a diet of rashers and Black Porter, has somehow got himself elected to the Dail as an Independent, on a yet to be explained political platform. Personally I think it would have been best if a team made up of bankrupt property tycoons, corrupt politicians and duplicitous bankers called Gombeens United had been parachuted in to fill up the spare place.

While the FAI dealt with the uncertainty about league composition in their usual way, by telling all clubs to substitute Drogheda for Fingal in the Premier fixture list and giving the Drogs’ former presumed First Division opponents a spare weekend every 6 weeks, the cross border Setanta Shield limply kick-started the season. Viewed as glorified friendlies in the 26 Counties and an unpleasant distraction from real league action in the black north, 6 sides from each association (8 unseeded in R1, 4 seeded given byes to R2) will play 2 legged ties in front of almost deserted terracing, bar the occasional rabid sectarian loon in East Belfast or holidaying groundhopper within The Pale, before a final on 14^th May. To give a flavour of the magic of this cup, UCD drew 0-0 with Lisburn Distillery in front of a crowd of 150. In the opening round Dundalk beat Linfield, UCD and St Pat’s lost to Distillery and Cliftonville respectively and Bohs postponed their game with Portadown as they didn’t have enough players to field a team. What a shambles!

However, the real action is to be found in the Airtricity League, with fixtures getting underway on Friday March 4^th. Expect regular updates here, or go watch a game yourself via the web; http://www.rte.ie/ and http://www.tg4.ie/ show games on alternate weeks. The standard is decent and Galway United play in colours similar to Percy Main, which is good enough reason for me to tune in.

The Parting Of The Ways

June 7^th 1979 saw the first direct elections to the European Parliament in the United Kingdom. While votes were cast on a Thursday, they were not actually counted until Sunday 10^th, as the other member states voting had their polls on that day. Barely a month after Britain had become a Fascist Police State following the victory of the Tories under Thatcher, the European election results were similarly depressing, as 60 Conservatives and 17 Labour were returned to Strasbourg.

I recall watching David Dimbleby and Bob McKenzie, sans swingometer as there were no previous elections to base their psephological calculations on, showing a colour graphic of the results of all the EU states, with left wing winners in red, centrists yellow, conservatives blue and others grey. From a distance of 32 years I recall one country was shaded differently; that country was Ireland where, regardless of the political hue of those elected, the only colour used was green, despite the fact that 4 of the 15 seats were taken by the allegedly socialist Labour Party. Dimbleby explained that the only difference between the two main Irish parties, Fianna Fail and Fine Gael were what your grandparents’ opinions about partition had been 60 years previously, which caused the Canadian McKenzie to guffaw loudly.

Irish politics had first entered my consciousness aged 4 in 1968 when I asked my dad what the Clancy Brothers song The Bold Fenian Men that he was so fond of singing along with, was actually about. Same as when he explained to me what the word circumference meant when I’d seen the term used in relation to the size of football prescribed by the laws of the game, I didn’t really understand what he told me, but I nodded earnestly in agreement as he explained. Mind, 43 years on, Ireland, the Clancy Brothers and football are still probably the three subjects I’m most passionate about.

I think I probably started to form an opinion about Irish politics in August 1975. One Friday night late in August, Eamon de Valera’s death was marked by a BBC1 profile of the man. It was shown directly after the 9 O’Clock News, in place of the final, never to be screened, episode of a long forgotten satirical show called Beneath The News, which mildly irritated me at the time. However I watched the programme and, as someone who’d decided aged 9 that I was a Communist, I promptly became a Republican as well. Politically, not much has changed for me since then, though I tend only to remember the Republicanism in song when I’ve had a few. I’m intending that for this weekend coming when my friend John McQuaid, now of Maynooth County Kildare but from Boyle in County Roscommon, pays his bi-annual visit to see Newcastle fail to win at home. We’ll sink a few pints, sing a few songs and no doubt discuss the results of the Irish General Election.

In brief, following the allocation to the 166^th and final seat to Fine Gael’s Sean Kyne at 8.30am on Wednesday 2^nd March, over 100 hours after polls had closed on Friday 25^thFebruary, the scores on the doors are, Fine Gael 76, Labour 37, Fianna Fail 20 (only 1 in Dublin), Sinn Fein 14, United Left Alliance 5 and Independents 14. At one stage, former players with Sporting Fingal offered to act as TDs for Galway West, Laois Offaly and Wickow as the counts were taking so long. As ever, the result means no overall majority. Fianna Fail were the last party to achieve this in 1977, which makes their net loss of 61 seats this time around so glorious. Mind, considering that during their last administration they jettisoned one Taoiseach, Bertie Aherne, when stories of fiscal impropriety began to surface daily, then saw another Brian “Biffo” Cowan preside over the economic disintegration of the country and an alleged bail out that left most Irish people materially worse off at any time since independence, before finally choosing the humourless and confrontational Michael Martin, a man who makes Padraig Pearse seem like Emo Phillips, as the leader chosen to preside over the greatest electoral hiding in the history of the state.

One of John’s 4 TDs in Kildare North is the Labour Party’s Emmet Stagg, brother of the late Vol. Frank Stagg who died on hunger strike in Wakefield Prison in 1976. Emmet’s three main claims to fame are that he went against the wishes of his dead brother's widow, by having Frank buried in the Stagg family plot, rather than in the Mayo Republican graveyard in Ballina, as Frank had wished for, that he was told to fuck off by Green Party TD Paul Gogarty in the Dail during a debate on pension reform and that he was arrested by Gardai in a public toilet popular with male prostitutes in Phoenix Park, Dublin, though no charges were brought.

Stagg is one of 37 Labour TDs, which represents a high water mark for the Party. Do not be deceived; they are as much the enemies of the working class as David Milliband’s shower this side of the water. Pat Rabbitte may have gained credibility for bollocking Pat Carey on Prime Time (please look for this on YouTube if you’ve not seen it), but his party, despite including the ever more discredited and atrophying remnants of the Workers’ Party / Democratic Left, are currently in talks with the dismal descendents of The Blueshirts about getting hold of power. While Dev’s grandchildren in Fianna Fail have failed, The Kerry Sex Aid’s offspring are closer to Emmet than Frank in the Stagg Party stakes.

Context is required; Fianna Fail, whose name is often translated as Soldiers of Destiny, were formed by Eamon de Valera in 1926 and, since forming their first administration in 1932, have been in power for 61 of the last 79 years, with their longest stretch in opposition being just over 4 years between March 1973 and July 1977. Their ideology is allegedly social democratic, but they are in fact rabidly socially conservative and in love with mammon more than any other political party in the known world. After de Valera moved upstairs to the Irish Presidency, the party was led successively by Sean Lemass, Jack Lynch, Charlie Haughey, Albert Reynolds, Bertie Ahern, Brian “Biffo” Cowen and currently by the atrichorous Michael Martin, who bears no resemblance to any other person of that name. De Valera, Lemass and Lynch were of the flint faced, GAA playing Pioneer pin tendency, while from Haughey onwards, Fianna Fail leaders have uniformly been a rapacious collection, of shifty, shiftless, corrupt, grasping, lying bastards who should have been drummed out of the state and drowned somewhere in mid Atlantic. Martin, conscious of the reputation of his party as the best and last refuge of boozy, smug, corrupt cute hoors and gombeens, is now trying to bring back a bit of the Jesuit to Fianna Fail. If there's any justice, he’ll be as successful as Biffo was in running the State. In other words, a complete shambolic disaster of epic proportions.

Fine Gael, allegedly a kind of Celtic Soft Tory Party, though they’ve never been in power without the support of the Labour Party, were formed in 1933. They were home to the Irish Fascist brigade, The Blue Shirts as they were known, under the command of Eoin O’Duffy. Subsequently Fine Gael have spent decades trying to throw off that stain on their soul, and they’ve been partly successful, having been coalition partners 6 times, with a seventh in the offing. Since I’ve been taking notice of these things, Garrett FitzGerald, a boring, patronising West Brit snob, has been their most notable leader and Taoiseach, with non-entities Alan Dukes, John Bruton and Michael Noonan following him, before current leader, the detestable, smarmy, dwarfish, intellectual pygmy Enda Kenny took over. If Kenny is the answer to Ireland’s problems, then I’d hate to know what the question was in the first place. He'll be a complete and utter disaster as Taoiseach, not just because he's a prick, though that is a factor, but also because of the ridiculous return to slavery deal cut with the IMF by Biffo and his pals, and the fact that Fine Gael and Labour are yet more old wine in newish bottles. Eventually they'll come to their senses and realise capitalism is finished, a conclusion that is inescapable when the fate of Ireland over the last decade is examined.

Kenny’s government will no doubt be bolstered by The Labour Party, who used to be led by former rugby international, the legendary Kerry Sex Aid himself, Dick Spring; a man so bland he would have failed a personality test, whose role in politics appeared to be Ernie Wise to Garrett Fitzgerald’s Mike Winters. After the failure of subsequent leader Ruari Quinn to be recognised in a Gardai ID parade by his own family, former lefty Pat Rabbitte took over for a while. Now while he was great on telly, Rabbitte’s main dealings as leader were in destroying any Socialist principles the Labour Party had. He’s been replaced by Eamonn Gilmore, who seemed to be the only person who wanted the job. As Fianna Fail had failed and Fine Gael have a dodgy history, Labour picked up their record number of seats simply by being neither of the other two.

Irish politics has long had time for a protest vote party. Between 1985 and 2007 the Progressive Democrats, a kind of D4 equivalent of the SDP were in existence, even being in coalition with Charlie Haughey’s lot at one stage, but these collection of FF and FG rejects disbanded just in time to allow the Greens to take 6 seats in 2007. The fact they have none now shows just how successful they are. The fourth party now is Sinn Fein. Sir Gerald Armani resigned his Westminster sinecure to help the Die Hards take 14 seats on a bizarre platform of social inclusiveness and a strong law and order element, that included a desire for more police on the beat; no doubt attired in balaclavas and answering to the name of P O’Neill.

As well as the Boys, there are now 14 Independents, ranging from Wexford Youths FC chairman Mick Wallace, a failed property developer and Juventus season ticket holder, who looks like Peter Stringfellow reared entirely on Black Porter and rasher sandwiches, to Waterford’s former Stickie John Halligan, to Jackie Healy Rae’s glove puppet son Michael, who is no doubt eager to carry on the cretinous leprechaun tendency in Leinster House. Interestingly Luke “Ming The Merciless” Flanagan, who originally stood on a Legalise Dope ticket a decade ago, is now TD for Longford Roscommon. I bet him and Sir Gerald can have a good auld craic about ganja and where to sell it, though they may differ in what to do buy with the profits.

However, there are some diamonds in the mouth of the corpse of Irish democracy. Ming Flanagan is one and John Halligan is another, but the 5 shining lights are the seats won by Joe Higgins, Clare Daly, Joan Collins, Richard Boyd Barrett and Seamus Healy for the United Left Alliance, whereby the Socialist Party, People Before Profit and Unemployed workers Union have come together to say unequivocally that neither Fine Gael and Labour's supine continuation of Fianna Fail's incompetent treachery, nor Sinn Fein's bizarre mix of obsessive Political Correctness and butter before guns Republicanism will advance the material conditions of ordinary Irish people one iota. That, as much as Kevin O'Brien and Alex Cusack's magnificent bludgeoning of English bowlers at the Cricket World Cup, is reason to celebrate with a few of Ronnie Drew's greatest hits on Saturday night.

The Road To God Knows Where

As a parent I’ve got a lot of failings, I accept that. However, what I have instilled in my son from an early age are the virtues of sarcasm, intolerance, ultra left wing politics and a tremendous taste in music. Never mind the concept of Rock Dad, my young’un (well he’s a 6ft2 prop forward and turns 16 in June) has been brought up by the Indie Parents. Consequently we had intergenerational moshing at the British Sea Power gig at the Tyne Theatre on February 14^th. It was a very successful Valentine’s Day, unlike last year when I booked a table for Laura and I. How was I to know she hated snooker?

Talking about falling out of love, the repeated tirades by St Niall Quinn towards his Mackem constituents get funnier by the second. Ever since the Drumaville Paveys parked their Hiaces on the SoS forecourt, all Newcastle fans have heard from all sections of the media both local and national, is how well the Unwashed are run compared to the goings-on at SJP. Despite Charlie Chawke’s Circus People rumbling off in to the distance, to be replaced by shadowy American billionaire Ellis Short, the unchallenged mantra among print and broadcast commentators is that the ruling elite on Wearside are doing things so much better than those on Tyneside. Frankly, to anyone who believes in proper fan ownership, being asked to make a choice between Short or Ashley is like asking whether you’d find Mubarak preferable to Gaddafi. These club-owning oligarchs are modern day despots; do not delude yourself otherwise. Quinn, who either pimped the club he purports to love or astutely secured investment funding from a surprising source, depending on your view, trousers the thick end of £1m per annum in basic salary payment, which isn’t bad considering he presided over a business that turned in a £26m annual loss for 2009/2010.

However, despite his unconvincingly dyed hair, smarmy grin and bland populism, it was undeniable that Quinn seemed less of a walking public relations disaster than the Ashley and Llambias operation has been. That is until Mr Charity started to veer wildly “off message” after the Darren Bent transfer. Whatever one’s response to that deal (hysterical amusement in my case), it is a cast iron fact that money talked. I could have accepted Bent’s logic if he’d been honest and said he was off to Villa Park simply because he wanted to double his already fantastic salary, but I saw no truth in his claims that he was going to further his England chances by moving to a bigger club. Much as it pains me to say it, the Mackems were one of only 8 Premier League teams who started this season with no fear of relegation, as were Villa, until O’Neill walked out on them. Houllier’s administration will probably keep Villa up, but they have now joined the doubting dozen and turned it in to the terrified thirteen, all of whom have the single stated aim of finishing at least 17th. Will the Mackems’ tribulations turn it in to a fearful fourteen, or are they ready to implode any day now?

On the face of it, the £24m that sunderland made from the Bent deal ought to have been enough to push them on to improve the squad (as with anything to do with the North East, naysayers will be jumping up and down to make comparisons with Ashley’s £35m for Carroll; it simply isn’t relevant here to compare the two teams, as everyone knows Ashley has no intention of spending any cash he receives), especially as a so-called “well run” club they would want to push on. Instead, they signed a bargain replacement in Sessegnon, presumably as replacement for Huns-bound David Healy, and took the terminally grumpy and unreliable Muntari on loan, but for what purpose remains as yet unclear, making a nice, fat £18m profit in the transfer window. Sadly, as this money was earmarked to pay off part of the debt accrued by signing Bent in the first place; it is fair to say Fernando Torres was not on Steve Bruce’s shopping list.

Consequently, it has become crystal clear that Short is not prepared to bankroll them any longer. Presumably, Quinn bullshitted Short saying that a half decent sunderland side would sell their ground out. Instead, they’re still bumping along with an average of less than 40k attending, which bearing in mind the club’s growing debt, is worrying. While calling them the north east’s crisis club may be a little premature, they have lost 3 off the bounce, with some seriously tough fixtures ahead and the inescapable fact that were Short to pull the plug now, any deduction for going in to administration would see them plunged in to the bottom 3.

Perhaps these contextualising features help to explain quite why Niall Quinn has decided to go public over the fact he despises the 10,000 stayaways who have stopped watching sunderland. His scattergun ravings about on-line streaming and pubs showing questionably legal broadcasts of games on foreign channels seem to have divided a notoriously fractious support that are regularly to be found coming to blows with each other. Some slavishly mouth Quinn’s party line that the supporters are letting down the owners (not the club, interestingly enough), in an embarrassing show of obsequiousness not seen since Sir Alastair Burnet stepped down as ITV’s Royal Correspondent, while the more realistic elements point to the grave economic plight affecting the mackems’ heartlands. Quinn, mere days are claiming he’ll have to sell off the high earners and scale back the club’s ambitions if the ground remains a quarter empty, has even promised to tour pubs in the Seaham area, where he claims 50 licensed premises show games on match day, trying to drum up support. Bearing in mind his self confessed problems with heavy drinking in the past; this may not be a good idea.

While some have pondered whether all this ranting and raving is symptomatic of Quinn having a mid life crisis or suffering from work-related stress, much as Bob Murray (now being rehabilitated as a “proper” fan by certain on line loonies) was supposed to have suffered a nervous breakdown during the 19 point season, it appears more likely that Mr Charity is just planting the seeds of his exit strategy. Despite now being blessed with much in the way of academic achievements, Quinn has the wit and cunning of a Fianna Fail TD; his gombeen tendencies are evident in his take home pay and his ability to be taken for a cute hoor who’d be very much at ease in Fagan’s in Drumcondra can not be ignored. Whatever happens to the Mackems, it’s a knocking bet Quinn, who presided over 5 successive defeats whilst, statistically, the worst ever manager of sunderland, will walk away from the wreckage with his reputation and bank balance in tact.

Farce or Tragedy?

(First published in Percy Main v Alnwick Town programme 19th February 2011)

January 31^st was Transfer Deadline Day; so crucial has this invented occasion become in our sporting calendar that it now deserves initial capitalisation, to suggest an identity and sombre gravitas it clearly does not merit. In the not too distant past, there was always a transfer deadline, but in the pre email era it used to be at 5pm on a Wednesday some time in March. It was a bit like the coming of Lent; an important event that you didn’t fully understand the relevance of, that wasn’t quite crucial enough in the wider scheme of things to get you a day off school.

While the biggest deal on January 31^st 2011 was the departure of Torres for Stamford Bridge, the deal that affected me the most was a Tyneside club seeing their star striker, a home town boy with an unbelievable eye for goals and that little bit of devil in his character which had seen him in a few scrapes, heading off in to the distance for a fading giant with an uncertain future, in shaky recovery from the machinations of some dubious, former owners. However, the Newcastle Benfield fans I talked to on the Wednesday following, during their 3-1 victory over Northallerton in the Brooks Mileson League Cup, were philosophical about things and all wished John Campbell well after his move to Darlington, even if the Quakers got lamped 4-0 away to Luton on his debut. The lad was simply too good for the Northern League and had already been on trial, no pun intended, at Orient and Swindon, before signing an 18 month deal at Darlo, where he scored his debut goal in a 6-1 rout of Eastbourne on February 12th. In a way he followed the pattern of Richard Brodie, who left Benfield for York in 2006 and will line up for his Crawley side at Old Trafford in the 5^th round of the FA Cup this weekend.

Elsewhere, North East crisis club sunderland lost three successive games in the wake of the departure of their star striker, whose mother had been racially abused by mackem fans not 18 months previous, to a club on the fringes of the relegation struggle, while their £1m per annum Chief Executive and apparent tireless charity worker Niall Quinn made a public announcement that he detested mackem fans who couldn’t afford to go to SoS for games. In addition menopausal misogynists Keys and Gray got the bullet from Sky for talking sexist bollocks and ended up on Talk Sport, which is the aural equivalent of Carling sponsoring an EDL march.

Meanwhile, in the alphabetical list of transfers on the BBC website Campbell J (Benfield – Darlington) was followed by the name of Carroll A (Newcastle – Liverpool) for the slightly higher fee of £35m. Not bad for a lad with only half a season’s regular top flight football behind him, not to mention a couple of brushes with the law and an injury that, if rumours are correct, will keep him out until the end of the season. £80k a week to sit around getting physio for 7 months is nice work if you can get it, even if the kid clearly did not want to leave the club, though frankly who can blame either him or Newcastle’s hierarchy for going for this deal; after all, January is a sellers’ market and Liverpool were decidedly cash rich. However, the timing is crucial and, as Biffa at http://www.nufc.com/ so perceptively put it, you can’t play a huge bag of cash up front.

As the deal unfolded on that Monday, it became abundantly clear Newcastle were time poor, to say the least, witnessed by the frankly desperate and utterly incomprehensible £12m bid for Charles N’Zogbia and rumours of a later move for Johan Elmander. Instead, Newcastle signed an injured Stephen Ireland on loan, sent Xisco and Wayne Routledge to their former clubs on gardening leave and then predictably lost Shola Ameobi for six weeks after a nasty elbow from Steve Sidwell in a 1-0 reverse at Fulham that the drama queen hand wringing tendency saw as imminent proof of certain relegation for The Magpies. Three days later, with papers, websites and local news still awash with reports of text messages and conversations between the parties concerned in the Carroll deal, all trying to pin the blame for the transfer on the other side, the astonishing recovery against Arsenal saw 4 goals scored and a point gained in extraordinary circumstances. That semi-mythical second half (I turned down a free ticket in order to watch the Ponteland game in the NFA Senior Benevolent Bowl) showed that this group of lads, to quote Chris Hughton, still had some spirit. Hopefully it is enough to get the team away from danger, though gaining 4 points away at Blackburn and Birmingham will also help.

Cheik Tiote, Joey Barton, Jose Enrique, Kevin Nolan and Fabriccio Coloccini are the ones who can keep Newcastle up, but undoubtedly the Andy Carroll deal means all of them, with the possible exchange of Gutierrez for Nolan, will go in the summer as the club has let them down by flogging the prize asset and replacing him with who? Well, as I stare at the photo of Andy Carroll that adorns the February page of my official Newcastle United calendar, the short term deal for Shefki Kuqi does not hint at a club looking to push on, does it? What the Carroll deal shows, considering all his weasel words from early December onwards and the cancellation of a Press Conference scheduled for 31^st January that was rumoured to unveil Barton and Enrique as having penned new, long term deals, is that Pardew is a puppet of Ashley and Llambias. Just when a grudging note of acceptance was creeping in to the comments of Newcastle fans about the performances of the team, Stevenage excepted, following the managerial change, the empty rhetoric about keeping Carroll and augmenting an already thin squad shows Pardew to be either a bullshitter or easily manipulated by the club’s owner. However I did have to laugh at the angry, unguarded comments Llambias had about a sheet metal worker’s son and failed former Newcastle manager’s take on the Carroll deal -: “Do I care what Alan Shearer has to say? When he ran this football club [in 2009] we were relegated after picking up just five points from his eight games in charge." I hate to say it, but Del Boy is right!

Thankfully this year I managed to avoid Transfer Deadline Day, thus being spared the ordeal of watching a seemingly endless loop of a tumescent David Craig screaming in to a microphone on Barrack Road. Instead, I found myself in the rarefied environs of the Theatre Royal on Grey Street at an educational event hosted by Propeller Theatre Company in advance of their opening night of Shakespeare’s The Comedy of Errors. How appropriate it was that The Bard’s scarcely credible tale of the Antipholus twins and their constant problems with misunderstandings and false promises in Ephesus should be taking place on this day of all days. Frankly, it was excellent. I hadn’t laughed so much since I’d read the last NUST press release. Tragically, I was forced to miss the NUST AGM on January 31^st as it coincided with the theatre. Well, actually it coincided with me grabbing a quick, pre performance coffee and Danish (pastry, not Hamlet) at Costa, as the NUST AGM was scheduled for 6pm on a Monday, no doubt to encourage maximum attendance. Or something.

In The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Arthur Dent wakes up one morning to find his house is about to be demolished. When he challenges the workmen’s right to do this, the foreman explains the necessary documentation had been displayed in the council offices, though Dent does point out said announcement had been kept in a locked filing cabinet in a tank of piranhas in an underground vault. Similarly, NUST booked not The Irish Centre, where all other meetings had been held, but a side room in the Literary & Philosophical Society (I’m not making this up). In the end, this was ample space as a grand total of 17 people, including 7 former members of the interim committee, turned up for an organisation that has had 500 at a public meeting before. What happened? Nothing of note, as NUST is now dead in the water. Having stated they were content with a loss of 1,000 members in the previous 12 months, on account of the fact those deserters had joined a Supporters’ Club and not a Supporters’ Trust, the current committee glossed over 2 recent resignations (one of whom Neil Mitchell wrote a fantastically insightful piece about his motives for doing so) and the continued suspension of another member, before co-opting someone I’d never heard of and announcing Mark Jensen, editor of The Mag, has stepped down as Chair to be replaced by Norman Watson, who’d came 8^th in last year’s election. Frankly my contacts that were present said the whole evening seemed not so much a case of rearranging the deckchairs on the Titanic as flinging them in to the ocean to try and sink the lifeboats.

Frankly, the whole drama leaves me utterly unmoved. Indeed until such time as Francisco Jiminez Terjada returns to St James Park, I’ll stick with Percy Main and Shakespeare. Xisco, Xisco, wherefore art thou Xisco?

Tweeting in a Pardew Wonderland

(First published in "Toon Talk 4" on 5th February 2011)

One of the best things about dumping your season ticket and paying, or scrounging, on a match by match basis is that you don’t have to put up with the incessant whinging of the miserable sods nearby who’d been getting on your nerves for the previous decade and a half. You’re now free to sit anywhere you want in order to hear yet more irrational, misjudged, blinkered criticism. Since I vacated the Gallowgate Centre in summer 2009, I have to say I’m not missing the dulcet tones and the continuous complaints of a pair of miserable gets from Ashington or thereabouts who would start their monotonous moaning when the team were warming up and bring it to a crescendo by the hour mark before nicking off early for their bus.

This season I’ve sat in complete silence in the official NUFC Trappist section, level with the 18-yard box in the East Stand Lower and seen both Coloccini and Williamson fail to deal with an aimless punt forward, allowing Jason Roberts to criminally steal the points for Blackburn in a desperate game. I’ve groaned in frustration at our inaccurate play and willingness of some (mainly pissed) fans to slag off our players, on a particularly frustrating day in the Leazes West Centre against a pitiful Fulham, but at least this was a freebie. I’ve also shelled out £40 for the privilege of seeing 86 pulsating minutes against Manchester City from the back row of the Milburn Paddock. It was a great seat with a charming neighbours and a superb view; certainly I saw Carlos Tevez in the build up to the first goal when Tim Krul didn’t. Thus, the enjoyment of the last 86 minutes was rather spoiled by the fact I’d seen my £40 pissed down the drain in the time it takes to boil an egg. As a consequence, the seat I opted for when the Hammers came to visit was a comfy armchair in the corner of my living room, though I was leaping around quite a lot!

Another game where I didn’t set foot in the ground was Pardew’s debut against Liverpool. I could pretend this was because of a principled stance of support for Hughton and opposition to another incomprehensible kneejerk response by Ashley, though I’d be lying if I did. I was actually at Firhill, watching Partick Thistle 1 Ross County 1 as part of a long arranged weekend in Glasgow, mainly to see my favourite band Teenage Fanclub; you can read about it here http://payaso-del-mierda.blogspot.com/2010/12/maryhill-chain.html if you like. Blogs are important, as I’m about to demonstrate.

Following Hughton’s sacking, there was a great deal more heat than light generated by debate amongst Newcastle fans about how best to respond to this turn of events. I hate to say it, but the shameful, ragged away displays at Bolton and the Baggies were not acceptable and simply could not be allowed to continue. Obviously Hughton had been undermined and overworked by the lack of a replacement for Calderwood (and as a Hibs fan I’m not exactly delighted with his new job either), but I still had doubts as to whether he was turning in to the reincarnation of Richard Dinnis.

However, regardless of Hughton’s strengths or otherwise, the way Ashley runs the club is what is really under the microscope following Pardew’s lucky break. Even if it had been Jol or O’Neill who’d got the gig, questions about the current owners need to be raised, especially by those who have the power to raise them. Obviously good journalists like George Culkin and Simon Bird do their bit, but what about those who don’t need to be objective or professional? In one of those quirks of history, all 3 Newcastle United fanzines came out Liverpool weekend; while two of them, namely Toon Talk 3 and the highly promising debut issue of Black & White Daft, had great content and showed no dilution of the contempt at the way the club is run (though the less said about The Mag 253 as a campaigning vehicle the better), publishing deadlines had conspired against them. Hughton’s sacking had happened while they were at press, meaning only Toon Talk could respond interactively to events via the website, which showed a level of fury among fans that was almost reminiscent of September 2008 all over again. Of course, it may just have been hot air in some instances, but at least it gave a flavour of how fans were feeling.

It became abundantly clear in the days leading up to the Liverpool game that NUST were not interested in the slightest in co-ordinating or indeed being involved in any form of protest, official, organised or otherwise, against Ashley. When a statement appeared on their website on the Thursday, the NUST board, now shorn of their 3 most prominent, proactive, crusading members in the shape of Bill Corcoran and Neil Mitchell who had resigned in disgust at the Trust’s inertia in the post election period and Steve Hastie, who remains suspended for hitherto unexplained “disciplinary” reasons, which may or may not emerge at the long awaited NUST AGM, were obviously intent on seeing this particular war out in Switzerland. Their call to arms was as follows; “The Trust board believes in supporting the team and for the fans to decide for themselves what message they want to send out to both the club hierarchy and the global audience watching on TV… For fans to have real influence it has to be through a financial stake in their club, that is our aim and what we will pursue no matter who owns or manages this great club.” It’s not quite Lenin arriving at the Finland Station now is it?

With only Toon Talk among the fanzine fraternity showing any interest in any form of protest either outside or inside the ground, it was made abundantly clear to me that as technology moves on, so has our support. Concepts such as Blogs, Flashmobs or Twitter were unknown half a decade ago; these days they are the global cyber underground, ripe for spreading dissent and fomenting social unrest. Witness the spectacle of fifth formers and College students bunking off lessons to protest at education cuts, then closing Vodafone and Top Shop stores in protest at the legal tax dodging of their owners. These youngsters don’t organise public meetings to plan things, or have committee elections, they text, tweet or message the time and the place of the next protest. The next generation knows the importance of using social networking sites on laptops and phones because they provide an easy, free and immediate way to organise demonstrations. It’s not anti democratic; it’s totally democratic, in an anarchic way. There are no leaders and they cause maximum embarrassment to the furious ruling elite. Of course, a new wave of articulate, radical public speakers may emerge, but only time will tell if they are needed. At the minute, anarchic rabble rousing is proving far more effective than anything the National Union of Students is doing.

As Newcastle United fans, we need to learn from these young protestors and the technologically sussed members of our support. Spontaneous protests may not run Ashley out of town, but they’ll achieve more than the snails’ pace Fabianism of NUST. One of the most perceptive of Newcastle United supporters in the cyber field is Andy Hudson (http://ganninaway.blogspot.com/) who had this to say in the run up to the Liverpool game: Over a year ago (the day the YWC campaign launched) I made my feelings known to NUST that as a single entity they will split our fanbase…The correct tactic should have been a supporters organisation that would unite all of the fans that was not going to be afraid to campaign against anything that they believed was not just or in the fans interests and that organisation should offer full transparency to build credibility amongst the fanbase. NUST should've then operated alongside that… At this moment in time NUST is dead. Outside of the current members it has no credibility; within the current members' ranks it has lost too much credibility and should not be used for anything moving forward in the short term but as something to build links within the community (which it is doing well)… In the short term the fans need to unite - which is pretty much a given - and engagement needs to begin to motivate, reinvigorate the fanbase - in my opinion there cannot be any exclusions else that becomes a mirror of the current NUST board which is in turn mirroring Ashley's toxic regime.

The most important elements to Andy’s proposals are that he is both positive in his outlook and inclusive in his philosophy, which are two vital elements that appear to have got lost in the infernal, internal politics of NUST during the past year or so. Indeed, Andy’s points need remembering and while the Liverpool protest may have came to little, in the wake of 3 great points, terrible weather and the apparent willingness of huge sections of the Newcastle fanbase to pour vast quantities of cash, hand over fist, in to Ashley’s coffers on a match day, the use of interactive technology and social networking to provide an immediate and hopefully unequivocal response to Ashley’s future outrages can not be ignored.

As Paul Simonon said “you can crush us, you can bruise us, but you’ll have to answer to” a 5,000 strong, roaring mob who just won’t take any more shit. Well, one day hopefully….

Rock & Dole Years: 2007/2008

(Originally published in "Toon Talk" issue #4 in February 2011)

It’s now more than three years since Sam Allardyce was shown the door at St. James’ Park. With the benefit of hindsight, absolutely nothing at all to do with his brief, inglorious time on Tyneside, including such disparate elements as his appointment, tenure and sacking, makes any sense at all. However, the same can be said of his replacement Kevin Keegan’s odd and still to be fully explained or justified return to the SJP hot seat. 2007/2008 was an utterly insane season, considering we began it by contemplating Allardyce taking us back to the Champions’ League and ended it grateful that Keegan had kept us up, though it seemed a bastion of calmness and tranquillity when the following one is remember, but that’s for next time.

Looking back on the early Ashley era seems almost surreal, when one considers just how popular the now vilified owner was with supporters, basically simply for not being Shepherd. While both players inc and The Mag erred on the side of caution about the new regime, certain cyber hotheads were taking the idea of seeing Chris Mort and Ashley buying pints in Blu Bambu as a sign of the reawakening of the Geordie nation. How wrong they were, but in their wish to see Shepherd removed they’d never contemplated how much truth there could be in the cliché “better the devil you know.”

On the pitch, we had bid less than fond farewells to the frankly useless Babayaro, the highly individual talents of Titus Bramble, his bling buddy Kieron Dyer after 8 underachieving years, the cowardly Luque and the agricultural Craig Moore. While it was good riddance to bad rubbish for that lot, we did spend a moment saying thanks to Scott Parker, apparently homesick and the God-like genius of Nobby Solano, who both ended up at West Ham, Antoine Sibierski, when Wigan offered him a 2 year deal and Pav Srnicek, who retired.

In their place we welcomed a similar mixture of talented and terrible players. The good buys would have been Habib Beye, a quality defender, Abdoulaye Faye, a no-nonsense stopper, though with apparent anger management issues, Jose Enrique, who is still doing the business still and the portly Viduka, who was a world beater one minute and a liability the next. After three and a half years, the jury is still out on Joey Barton; for every goal versus Villa there is a punch on Morten Gamst Pederson, not even taking in to consideration his extra curricular activities. The bad buys really did stink; Rozenhal was as soft as shit and left for Lazio on 1^st January, Cacapa was Titus with a Portuguese passport, Geremi appeared to be playing in slow motion and Alan Smith has still to convince me he is a footballer to this day.

Anyway, following a couple of encouraging friendly wins over Celtic and Juventus, the whole thing kicked off away to Allardyce’s old club Bolton on my birthday August 11^th. A classic from Charles N’Zogbia and a Martins double saw Newcastle 3-0 up in half an hour, with a final score of 3-1 really setting the scene in emphatic fashion. The next week, we drew 0-0 at home to Villa in a dull game, though the needless booing at the end suggested Allardyce had very little margin for error among the SJP faithful. Newcastle fans again came under the spotlight the next week as we drew 2-2 in Smogland after twice leading. The barracking dished out to the eminently detestable Mido was taken up by the likes of Lousie Taylor of The Grauniad and other on-line cultural gauleiters, in the shape of polyversity Media Studies and Sociology drop-out bloggers, not to mention opportunistic Boro fans with an agenda to pursue, as racist chanting. It wasn’t. It was having a go at a detestable opposition player. End of story. Much to the chagrin of Lousie Taylor, the FA didn’t charge Newcastle United and as a consequence I’ve not read The Guardian since.

On the pitch Newcastle moved on from this shit storm in a tea cup to face Barnsley in the League Cup, when a brace by Martins and Owen saw us safely through, leading to a predictable 2-0 loss to Arsenal’s youth team at the Emirates in the last 32; ho hum.

September started with 1-0 massacre of Wigan courtesy of a lovely Owen header, before the first sign that Allardyce wasn’t up to it; we lost 1-0 away to Derby when Kenny Miller gave them their only win of the season in a game where Newcastle seemed utterly unable to pick their game up and create anything. A bounce back victory at home to West Ham was followed by a great first half away to Man City, where we went in a goal to the good, but fell apart to lose 3-1. We stood 9^th at the end of the month and in the same place at the end of October, when home wins over Everton and Spurs were spoiled by a lame loss at Reading.

The main problem with Allardyce seemed to be his inability to switch tactics; it was his way or no way and, more surprisingly, given his ego, that he couldn’t motivate players. If we went a goal down, we were almost certainly snookered, but take the lead and we’d be okay. Sadly, we didn’t take many leads in November. The middle game of that month saw us draw 1-1 away to the Mackems when James Milner’s cross eluded Craig Gordon to give us a point we scarcely deserved, while the two home games that bookended this result effectively destroyed Allardyce’s credibility. The 1-4 massacre by Portsmouth, with them 3 goals up in 7 minutes, all courtesy of Cacapa and Rozenhal’s ineptitude, could possibly be seen as a fluke; the 3-0 banjoing by a Liverpool side in second gear could not. Make no mistake about it; these were the two worst ever home performances in the Premier League by Newcastle United. The repeatedly chants of “you don’t know what you’re doing” were right on the money. Allardyce had bluffed and bullshitted his way in to this job, where he’d quickly been found out.

A packed December programme saw a continued unacceptable mixture of results; a spineless 3-1 loss at Blackburn, a plucky 1-1 home draw with Arsenal, a 2-1 home win over Birmingham courtesy of a 90^th minute Habib Beye header, a spawny 1-0 win at Fulham courtesy of Barton’s injury time penalty and a fluked 2-2 at home to Derby, courtesy of a late Viduka goal, when we ought to have lost, saw us 12^th at Christmas. Predictably the festive period did us no favours; a 1-0 loss at Wigan, where the chants were “we’re shit and we’re sick of it,” before Barton went on a 12-hour bender, punched a young kid and ended up doing time, was followed by a 2-1 loss at Chelsea.

January started with a 2-0 home reverse by Man City that showed us as spineless as ever, followed by a truly woeful 0-0 away to Stoke in the FA Cup, which saw Allardyce removed from office. Typically enough, Ashley’s timing was neither logical nor helpful. Allardyce should either have been allowed to see the season out and then bulleted in the summer, as we were under no danger of going down, or not employed at all after Ashley took up the reins in 2007. The first game after his departure saw a 6-0 loss at Man United, where Alan Smith saw red for foul and abusive language, with Nigel Pearson in charge, offered no hope of immediate improvement. We needed a boss and it appeared as if one cockney wide boy would appoint another, with Redknapp looking to be the likely candidate. Imagine the shock on Wednesday January 16^th, with a cup replay with Stoke only hours away, when Kevin Keegan was unveiled as the new boss.

Retrospect shows we should not have touched him with a bargepole; he was yesterday’s man, distanced from the modern game, running his Soccer Circus up in Glasgow and one can only speculate as to why he took the job. Yet Kevin Keegan united the fans, players and everyone associated with the club, bar Dennis Wise, until the end of that season. If he’d been given the title of Director of Football, rather than the odious taxi driver attacker, things may well have been very different in the long run, but Newcastle United, and Ashley in particular, like to do things the hard way, and sometimes the wrong way.

Despite Emre’s early red card, Keegan’s first game went well that night as we won 4-1 against a woeful Stoke, before losing 3-0 to Arsenal’s youth team at the Emirates in the last 32, again; ho hum.

We also lost 3-0 to them in Keegan’s first away game, which showed he didn’t really have the magic touch required to shoot us up the league. Indeed, it was to be 2 months and 8 games before he tasted victory. We drew at home 0-0 with Bolton and 1-1 with the Smogs, lost 4-1 at Villa, 5-1 at home to Man Utd, 1-0 home to Blackburn in the 93^rd minute, 3-0 at Liverpool and stopped the rot with a good performance in a 1-1 at St Andrews. After 4 straight losses, perhaps the tide had finally turned.

Fulham were beaten 2-0 at home, then Spurs were humiliated 4-1 at the Lane after we’d gone a goal down, before Reading were blown away 3-0; 9 goals, 9 points and the best attacking displays of the season. This was followed by a 0-0 snooze at Portsmouth, before the Mackems were pulled to pieces 2-0. The first one saw a superb Geremi cross and a magnificent run and finish by Owen; two players who were held in contempt by Newcastle fans combined this day to produce the goods.

The season ended with us finishing 12^th, after a 2-2 at West Ham and a brace of low-key losses 2-0 at home to Chelsea and 3-1 at Goodison. The former seemed to drive a wedge between Ashley and Keegan, when the manager on Sky TV post match basically admitted we’d never compete at the top of the table with the squad we had and the players Wise wanted to bring in, compared to the ones Keegan had in mind. It seemed a non-story at the time, but the events of the next few months proved that Newcastle United are only ever a heartbeat away from a major crisis. And 2008/2009 was a 12 month crisis from start to finish!

Hertsbleat

(Originally published in Percy Main v Shankhouse programme 15/01/11)

My mate Phil works in the oil industry. For the past couple of years he’s been in Kazakhstan, which has been a reasonable swap for Borat I guess; one unfunny middle aged politically incorrect workie ticket for another, so to speak. Anyway, Phil’s a Newcastle fan who hates watching the Magpies these days as it’s so stressful. Of course he hates other teams; Norwich City, as his mam always made the tea from a recipe idea in the Delia Smith cookbook every Friday, when everyone else on his street got their bait from the chippy, and Stranraer, on account of being stuck their 9 hours waiting for a ferry to Larne once. In fact, so profound is his dislike for the lads from Stair Park that he once knocked back a week’s overtime on the rigs to watch them at Aberdeen in the Scottish Cup years back, celebrating the Dons’ winner with unbridled fervour.

Personally I spread my net of hatred wider than Phil does. In no particular order I’ve contempt for sunderland, Everton, Rangers, Man City, Burragh, Hearts, Chelsea, Leicester, Spurs and so on and so forth. However, over the past few years, I’ve began to really develop a hatred for the poster boys of the chin-stroking, John Lennon specs wearing, polyversity Sociology and Media Studies cultural gauleiters among the espresso sipping non match attending cyber blogging community; I’m talking about AFC Wimbledon. Conversely I’ve started to adopt MK Dons as my second team as I really admire what they’ve done to bring football to that sporting desert. If the followers of AFC Wimbledon were so bothered about their side, they’d have watched them at Plough Lane, instead of following the egg chasers from Harlequins or Saracens instead.

Of course this season in the FA Cup there was a chance that the moral descendents of the 1988 FA Cup winners MK Dons would have played their UK Independence Party in lycra upstarts AFC Wimbledon in round 2. Sadly MK Dons misread the script by losing a first round replay at home to Stevenage, who won the play off between the unspeakable and the inedible by dumping AFC out in round 2, resulting in the reward of a home tie versus Newcastle United, which resulted in the kind of humiliating disaster that managed to knock the Mackems defeat at home to Notts County off the back pages. We’ll, we’d been there before hadn’t we?

Sunday 25th January 1998, FA Cup 4th round; Stevenage Borough (as was) of the Conference v Newcastle United of the Premier League. In a year that would see the Toongate scandal erupt less than two months later, with its unsavoury revelations of Freddy Shepherd and Douglas Hall’s attitude to Alan Shearer, not to mention the ludicrous sacking of Kenny Dalglish in August that year, this public relations disaster was perhaps the biggest fiasco in a whole series of wholly preventable own goals.

The moment the draw was made, after Newcastle had beaten Everton 1-0 at Goodison courtesy of an Ian Rush effort from 2 yards in a deplorable game, the Newcastle board and Dalglish started twisting that the game should be moved to SJP on safety grounds, which seemed like cowardice pure and simple, considering the team had finished second in the Premier League the season previous and played in the champions’ League not two months earlier. However the fact was in 1997, Stevenage had drawn Birmingham City at home in the third round of the cup, but had switched the game on police advice to St. Andrews, where they lost 2-0. The difference in 1998 was that Stevenage Chairman Victor Green, a wily self-publicist and typical boardroom tyrant, was able to play Newcastle and Sky TV off against each other. Murdoch’s money won out, under the guise of Corinthian fair play, and the game stayed at Broadhall Way, with a temporary stand erected to house the Newcastle fans, beamed out live on Sky. Prices had been increased to £25 to sit and £15 to stand from the normal cost of £5, supposedly to pay for increased stewarding. Odious, contemptible profiteering and no mistake! However, it worked, as the 8,040 crowd is a Stevenage record and higher than the ground’s current capacity.

One of my best mates from University Kevin lives in nearby Welwyn Garden City. He’s an armchair Arsenal fan, but fancied taking this one in. I trained it down Saturday morning, taking the opportunity to watch Barnet 3 Colchester 1 at Underhill, before heading up to Welwyn. After a pleasant night doing a few bars, Sunday dawned crisp and cool, so we made our way to Stevenage, about 15 miles north. Not having been there before, Kevin was told Broadhall Way was by The Roaring Meg. Naturally we assumed this to be a pub; it wasn’t, it is a shopping centre like Royal Quays or Silverlink. The only place to get a drink was Pizza Hut, where desperate Newcastle fans were ordering a dozen bottles of Bud to go with their garlic breads or soups of the day. We had a coffee then found the ground.

Back in 1987/1988, Newcastle had a temporary stand at the Leazes End while the Milburn was built; I never sat in it, as the Gallowgate Centre was my home in those days, but I refuse to believe it was as rickety as the groaning, shifting scaffolding and hardboard structure that housed me that afternoon. In the back row, typically enough; a plank of wood half way up my back was all that came between a 100-foot drop and me. The game, consequently and thankfully, was a blur; the returning Shearer scored a textbook header after 5 minutes from a Gillespie cross and we began to relax. Sadly, as is so often the case, Dalglish’s side went back in to their shells and invited the spirited home side to have a go on the awful, bumpy pitch. They did and Guliano Grazioli equalised. Thankfully it got no worse.

Coming away from the ground, it was obvious that the home support was largely made up of Spurs, Arsenal, Chelsea, QPR, Watford, West Ham, Man United and other cockney sides’ fans, all on the lookout for a cup upset. Obviously there may have been some real Stevenage fans, but they weren’t easily discernible. The real FA Cup story was to have been found 200 miles north the day before, when Tranmere had beaten sunderland 1-0, despite having a player sent off. Even more amusing, referee Rob Harris allowed Tranmere to substitute the sent-off Clint Hill. This became all the more amusing when the fifth round draw handed Tranmere an away tie against Stevenage or Newcastle. Unlucky Wearside!

Lucky Tyneside! Newcastle crawled home in the replay 2-1, with a Shearer double, when it seemed the first hadn’t fully crossed the line. This game provided me one of my toughest journalistic assignments; writing the match report from a Stevenage point of view for Non League Monthly, I was sat in the Press Box next to Ron Jones, who asked me not to smoke (I eventually took his advice in 2007) and Mike Ingham, who looked unnervingly like Peter Tatchell. In retrospect the £100 fee and chance to attend the Dalglish Press Conference (even if I couldn’t understand a word he said) made up for the sense of feeling a fraud and the tough 2,000 word assignment at the end of it.

So, 2011 and Newcastle United were away at Broadhall Way again, with ESPN picking this one out as their live game. As the FA Cup have now introduced the Ronnie Radford Award for Giantkilling, it was nice of Newcastle to obliging produce a craven, sickening non-performance to allow Stevenage to claim it for this year. “Walking In A Pardew Wonderland?” Not really.