Cutting It Fine

The League of Ireland kicks off in a fortnight. At the time of writing, the number of teams competing in Division 1 is yet to be confirmed. Unbelievable eh?

Since I decided to allow Sky Sports back into my life last Autumn, it has proved to be something of a comfort, especially on blustery Monday nights. On such occasions, tired from weekly 6-a-side and fraught from the onslaught of the working week, I find myself sprawling on the chaise longue,  deep beneath a high tog duvet and further insulated by dozing cats, counting down the seconds until bedtime by watching a game of football I’m generally able to feign an interest in. So it was on January 27^th when, erroneously as it turned out, I expected to see Bournemouth versus Arsenal. I knew it wasn’t on BBC as they’d shown the Man City v Fulham and Shrewsbury v Liverpool ties on the Sunday, so Sky seemed to be the natural host for such a fixture. They weren’t; it was on BT which I have not got. Instead I was enticed by the tempting, nostalgia-inducing, delights of Coleraine against Cliftonville in the Danske Bank Premiership.

Amidst all the terrifying imponderables of the post Brexit dystopia we’ll soon find ourselves in, two positives are inevitable; an independent Scotland and a reunited Ireland. Obviously one of the most important tasks in the imminent 32 county Republic, is a whole island football league, where the summer game in the 26 counties and the winter one in the North, are successfully merged. From the evidence of Coleraine 1 Cliftonville 0 and Cliftonville 0 Linfield 1 a few weeks earlier, there is absolutely no question that football in the north of Ireland is vastly inferior to the game in the 26 counties.

As mentioned above, there was a sense of nostalgia occasioned by the live broadcast from the Showgrounds. You see, about 35 years ago, while studying for a degree in Literature at Ulster University, though generally opting to watch the endearingly terrible intermediate side Portstewart FC, on account of the fact they played at the top of my street and turn left,  I would occasionally take myself off to see the Bannsiders when they hosted some of their less problematic rivals from the Irish League; clearly Glentoran and Linfield were the ones to avoid, but the likes of Larne, Newry and Crusaders, with a tiny travelling support, could be safely viewed from the Railway End, which now seems to be a compact all-seated home end, exactly replicated at the opposite Ballycastle Road End for away fans. The first time I saw Coleraine in action was a UEFA Cup tie at home to Sparta Rotterdam on 28 September 1983, where they gave a right good account of themselves in front of nigh-on 5,000 fans on a Wednesday afternoon (no floodlights you see), holding the visitors to a 1-1 draw, courtesy of a late Felix Healy strike. Shame they’d lost the first leg 4-0.

The other game I remember clearly was an end of season home defeat in April 1985 to Crusaders, which ended even a mathematical hope of the title, after Raymond McCoy, a brilliantly talented but temperamentally difficult local lad, had put Coleraine ahead with a sumptuous chip. Sadly, the end of that season saw star player Felix Healy head for the revived Derry City, McCoy fall out with boss Jim Platt and bearded, straggly-haired keeper Vincent Magee retire, which significantly reduced the club’s appeal in my eyes. The plight of the game versus Cliftonville, a club I’ve always had sympathies for, on account of them being the only Catholic club in a Protestant League for Protestant people, did not engender any real affection. Cliftonville, having already disgraced themselves on telly with the aforementioned terrible home defeat to Linfield, may have my sympathies but they don’t deserve my support. However, one caveat I would advance in defence of IFA clubs is that trying to play football in a climate that is characterised by gale force winds and incessant, driving rain for 300 days of the year, is an almost futile exercise. They ought to lake a leaf out of the League of Ireland’s book, and play football in summer. Perhaps shifting the marching season to January may end the sectarian farce forever, as fans of all teams seem keen on singing incessantly about arcane details of 17^th Century Irish History on rainswept terraces on winter Monday nights. Incidentally, I’d still like to see Dundela play at some point.

You’ll have seen I’ve just praised the FAI for doggedly sticking to the principle of summer football, which effectively means late February to early November. Then again, having watched a game in a hailstorm at Athlone’s evocatively named and almost deserted Lissywoolen on May 30^th, 2011, the apportioning of seasons to months and vice versa is an inexact art in Erin’s Green Isle. What is certain is that, bar the times when games are played, the Football Association of Ireland and their adjunct the League of Ireland, are not fit for shovelling shit, never mind running the game at all levels. To be fair, there is currently an almost disconcerting level of stability in the top division, notwithstanding the endless dreary saga of the redevelopment of Dalymount Park and the need for Bohs to groundshare with Shels at some point in the future while modernisation is carried out. The story of Finn Harps’ potential new ground is now firmly rooted in Irish folk mythology and as complex as a Flann O’Brien plotline. However, with the season set to begin on St Valentine’s Day, at least the casual observer can be relatively confident of the list of participating clubs remaining constant throughout the season, though one should never rule out the possibility of an unexpected implosion at the most inopportune of moments. This is not the case with the First Division, which ought to be in some kind of protective custody for its own good.

While the revelations concerning the business practises of the shady, meretricious Gombeen John Delaney during his financially ruinous tenure at the top of the FAI should provide more than enough evidence to throw him in the slammer for the thick end of a decade, he’ll no doubt emerge unscathed from this vat of horse shite smelling of roses and bank notes, safe in the knowledge that the FAI’s attempts to construct a valid and feasible list of competing clubs for 2020 are about as credible as putting Harold Shipman in charge of Help the Aged.

At the end of the 2019 season, UCD came last in the top division and were relegated. Finn Harps were second bottom, but won their play-off against Drogheda United. This meant the First Division, subject to the granting of licenses, a process as transparently (in)credible as the Premier League’s fit and proper person test, would consist of the following clubs for 2020 -:

Athlone Town – permanently skint and lucky to still be going

Cabinteely – had contemplated cutting their losses and dropping back down to the Leinster Senior League

Bray Wanderers – showing no signs of reviving after relegation in 2018

Cobh Ramblers – based in Cork, which explains everything

Drogheda United – skint, playing in a ramshackle ground but trying their best

Galway United – moribund; a shell of the side of a decade ago

Limerick – possibly the sixth club from Stab City to try and make a go of it; suffering a slow financial death of a thousand cuts

Longford Town – lads out in the country, trying their best

UCD – the D4 Big Bang Theory lot are only in this competition for a laugh

Wexford – Mick and his pal Clare are concentrating on interfering with aircraft more than football these days

Therefore, without unduly castigating the volunteers, players and supporters trying to keep clubs afloat in the most straitened of circumstances, the whole division is a complete basket case that could have been rescued by a single year of Delaney’s salary.  Of course, it wasn’t and things proceeded to go downhill rapidly when Limerick were refused a licence, on the grounds of being skint and up shit creek without a paddle. The city known for the twin passions of its inhabitants for knives and rugby were replaced by the eternal fudge of placeholders Shamrock Rovers B stepping up for a season. When Mervue and Salthill decided it was farcical to continue in the First Division back in 2014, while Galway couldn’t reanimate the corpse of football by the Corrib in time for kick off, the Tallaght Corinthians Shadow Squad stepped up to the plate for a year, allowing the Galwegians time to get their act together. And so it was imagined allowing Shams stiffs a season of meaningless kickarounds in 2020 would keep the seat warm until the Treaty Blades could retake their position in lower mid table.

No so fast, announced a suddenly militant crowd of first division clubs, who stood foursquare behind Limerick and their simple Stanley Knife of truth and in direct opposition to the LOI’s wholly unsatisfactory fudge. Just as it is was shaping up for a Mexican Moyross stand-off, the League relents and prints another set of fixtures, including ELEVEN clubs, who will play 2 sets of fixtures (they used to play 3 and the identically numbered Premier division played 4, for some reason), preceded by a reanimated First Division Shield round-robin fiasco.

Just when I thought I had only Cork and Cobh left to do before I’d completed the League of Ireland set, and had identified possible weekends for some fun by De Banks, this nonsense comes around. Rest assured though, despite the potential for chaos, things can only get better as Mr Charity himself, Niall Quinn has been parachuted in as some kind of temporary executive / problem drinker. Honestly, you couldn’t make this stuff up. That said, it hasn’t put me off a weekend in the Rebel city, taking in Cork City and Cobh Ramblers games, with July 17^th and 18^th looking favourite, for the visits of Sligo and Longford. Then, I'll only have Limerick left to visit...

Bull Gates

I was asked a few questions by the lads who do the programme at Squires Gate FC, from the NWCFL. Here's what I said -:

First of all, what encouraged you to get into football? Which team did you support growing up? What was the reason behind supporting them? Do you remember the first game you attended? What was the score? More importantly, what started you on your groundhopping adventures?

I’d best state at the outset I’m 55, so I’ve been a football fanatic for coming up 50 years. Growing up in Newcastle, a single club city, there was only ever going to be one team for me, or there was until Mike Ashley came along. Anyway, my first visit to St James’ Park was on New Year’s Day 1973, when we drew 2-2 with Leicester City and I was hookedby the atmosphere and sense of spectacle from that moment. I went with my dad, an uncle and a cousin for a couple of years, until firstly my old man jacked it in when Joe Harvey was sacked as Magpies manager in 1975 and then my uncle did the same when Malcolm MacDonald was sold to Arsenal a year later. My cousin was more into heavy rock than football, so he bailed out as he’d started listening to Alan Freeman’s show on Radio 1, so I began going with a bunch of mates from school.

The ground collecting, rather than hopping as it isn’t my primary football supporting activity, began during 1992/1993, when Newcastle’s promotion season saw them feature on ITV on Sunday afternoons, rather than Sky, over a dozen times. These fixture changes gave me plenty of free Saturdays and, rather than waste them in the house, listening to commentary on the radio or watching updates on telly, I decided on a whim to start the process of ticking off clubs in my locale, initially in the step 5 & 6 Northern League, as well as (then) near-ish league clubs like Darlington, Hartlepool and Scarborough. Around this time, Harry Pearson published the best book about NE football in history, The Far Corner, which inspired me to contact him. We met up, became firm pals and, over the past quarter of a century, have visited some truly primitive grounds, watched some awful football then drank some terrible beer. Ground collecting isn’t always fun you know…

You were programme editor for Newcastle Benfield in the North East. What makes a good football programme to you? What do you hope to achieve with your programme?

For me, a programme should always have plenty of reading in it. I always seek to showcase writing of a comparable standard to that you may find in the likes of Wisden, The New Statesman or the London Review of Books. I like long form opinion or observational pieces, sometimes about other sports, because they inform and stimulate the reader.  Adverts are a necessary evil, puzzles an acceptable diversion, but pages of decontextualized match photos do nothing for me. Remember, many readers will be visiting your club for the first time; a club history and pen portraits of the players and management are essential to give them a feel for where they are visiting. Also, I firmly believe programmes should cost no more than a quid.

Do you have any rituals or superstitions when it comes to supporting your team?

Regardless of climactic conditions, I wear shorts rather than jeans during British Summer time. Once the clocks go back, I wear the same 2 pairs of socks to games; in rotation when the weather is clement and both together when it’s cold.

Did you have any football shirts growing up? Who was your footballing idol?

I got a full, heavy serge, cotton Newcastle United kit for Christmas 1972. It held water like a sponge and stubborn muck stains were impossible to remove. Goodness, I loved it.  A couple of years later, as my idol was then Eric Morecambe, who was Luton chairman, I got one of the iconic orange Hatters’ Admiral tops with the thin white and blue stripe down one side. It was the most colourful thing I owned in the 1970s. Incidentally, I’ve still never visited Kenilworth Road.  As regards a football idol; all the mavericks like Stan Bowles, Tony Currie, Robin Friday, Alan Hudson and Frank Worthington appealed to me because of their avowedly anti-establishment aura.  My favourite Newcastle players were Terry Hibbitt, Pat Howard and Micky Burns.

Can you give us a brief insight into Newcastle Benfield? Ground, league, etc? Ambitions for this season and beyond?

We were formed to participate in Saturday football in the Northern Alliance, the lowest league in the pyramid up here, in 1988 as Heaton Corner House, playing in a public park in Walker. After a few name and ground changes, we were accepted into the step 6 Northern League Division 2 in 2003 as Benfield Park. We won promotion at the end of our first season and have been at step 5 in Northern League Division 1 ever since and Newcastle Benfield since 2007. Our honours consist of one League championship in 2008/2009, when we went from fourth to top (for the only time in the season,) courtesy of an 86^th minute winner at the last game played on Penrith’s old Southend Road ground and 3 League cups. We play at Sam Smith’s Park in Walkergate and our record crowd is 926 for an FA Cup fourth round qualifier in October 2006, when York City beat us 1-0. We’ve reached the FA Vase quarter finals twice, but always seem to come unstuck in the North West (Chadderton, Atherton, Runcorn and Vauxhall Motors accounting for us in recent years).

Our manager is Stu Elliott, an ex-pro with Newcastle and many other clubs. He coaches at the NUFC academy, as does our most famous player, ex Newcastle, Reading, Cardiff and Northwich striker Paul Brayson, who is still banging them in at 42. Our record appearance holder is ex England beach football international, keeper Andy Grainger, who is virtually ever present since 2003, when he was released by Darlington.  With the Unibond League splitting into 3 parallel divisions on geographical grounds for next year, we really hoped to be up there challenging for one of the minimum of 3 promotion places as the quality of the Northern League will be seriously diluted (witness the loosening of its previously vice-like grip on the FA Vase), but we appear to be marooned in mid-table, even allowing for games in hand. There’s always next year I guess…

Who is the toughest opposition in your league?

It’s a tough league full stop; we’ve lost to relegation certainties and humbled champions elect over the past 16 years. Put it this way, I think the 3 to be promoted at the end of the season will be: Consett, Hebburn Town and Stockton Town who are all as strong off the pitch as on it.

You can bring 3 PL players to make up a 5 a side team, with 2 Newcastle Benfield players. Who do you sign and why?

We’ll contribute Andy Grainger in goal and Paul Brayson up front.  If we’re talking about the current season, then it has to be van Dijk, de Bruyne and Aguero; three players who read the game sublimely well. If it’s going back to the formation of the Premier League then Kompany, Viera and Cantona simply couldn’t be beaten. Shearer on the bench I suppose.

How many grounds have you visited?

Good question; over 300 from Wembley to Wembley Town. I call myself a ground collector rather than hopper as my primary football interest is watching Newcastle Benfield. I only watch other teams when I can’t watch my own. I must state that, whatever the standard of football, supporters care as passionately about the result whether it’s Barcelona or Brechin City. Hence anyone who watches football regularly is as valid and important a member of the game’s body politic as any other. I despise the notion of superfans and the idea that certain standards of football have a kind of “purity” attached to them that others don’t.

What is your usual match day routine when visiting a new ground?

A programme, a pin badge and a pie are my purchases of choice.

What makes non league unique to you?

The fact I choose to watch Newcastle Benfield doesn’t make me a better fan than my neighbour who has 2 season tickets for St James Park. At the moment, I cannot envisage the situation whereby I will not watch a game of football, 90% of the time a non-league one, every Saturday during the rest of my life. I love the fact I know many, if not most, opposition fans, players and management, in the Northern League. You see, as I get older, I like my gigs to be intimate, my pubs to be quiet and my football to be grassroots. Others prefer the opposite and that works for them, so I won’t criticize.

Have you ever visited any games abroad? What makes the experience different in other countries? Have you visited any obscure grounds? What made them different to the others?

My family were all Irish, so I’ve been to 20 League of Ireland grounds over the years. Additionally, I lived in Slovakia for 2 years, in the capital Bratislava. The team I followed were Petrzalka (they beat Celtic 5-0 in CL qualifiers back in 2005) and my principal reason for travelling around the Transdanubian Basin was watching Petrzalka lose 2-0 to the likes of Dunajska Streda and Banska Bystrica. Having visited loads of grounds in this country on my own, it wasn’t massively different abroad, though I struggled with the programme on most occasions. I did learn loads of new swear words of course.

As regards obscure grounds, possibly Balintore Athletic from the North Caledonian League, Athy Town of the Kildare League and Deportivo Betono from the bottom division of the Basque regional league are not the sort of venues most ground collectors, or even football fans, have on their radar.

What is the best goal you've ever seen, live and in general? The best game you have ever watched? The worst? In general, and ones that you have attended on your travels?

English League: Alan Shearer, Newcastle v Everton, December 2002

English Non-League: John Campbell, Benfield v Billingham Synthonia, January 2012

Best League game: Newcastle 5 Brentford 1, March 1993

Best Non-League game: Benfield 5 Runcorn Town 4, December 2018

Worst League game: Newcastle 0 Barnsley 0, November 1990

Worst Non-League game: West Auckland 1 Whickham 0, January 1997

Your favourite grounds to visit?

England: Valley Parade, Bradford City

Scotland: Easter Road, Hibernian

English Non-League: Woodhorn Lane, Ashington

Scottish Non-League: Dunterlie Park, Arthurlie & Hannah Park, Shotts Bon Accord

Defunct English League Grounds: Highbury, Arsenal & Leeds Road, Huddersfield

Defunct English Non-League Grounds: Portland Park, Ashington & Kingsway, Bishop Auckland

What grounds are you planning on visiting in the next few months?

I’ve never been that bothered about doing the whole 92, but Scotland is a different matter. I want to have the 42 SPFL grounds done by the end of next season, so Airdrie, Alloa and Dundee are in my sights. I only need Cobh Ramblers and Cork City to complete the League of Ireland, so a trip “back home” is on the cards as well. There are a few Northern Alliance park and school 4G pitches that I need to experience as well.

Can we expect to see you down at Squires Gate in the near future?

Who knows what the FA Cup or FA Vase have in store next season? In general, Lancashire is an area where I’m poorly travelled; a situation I need to address.

The Warriors 2

Here's my latest Scottish adventure for you all to laugh at.....

I only made one New Year’s Resolution; to complete visits to all the 42 Scottish League grounds before the end of 2020/2021. As I made this pledge in November 2019 and gave myself an 18-month window to do it in, you could justifiably say it’s more of an aspiration than a resolution, but there you have it. Back on December 1^st last year, Benfield crashed out of the FA Vase away to Vauxhall Motors who, ironically, drew our scheduled Northern League opponents for the date of the next round on January 11^th, specifically Hebburn Town, I was thus presented with a window of opportunity for Scottish adventures early in the New Year, with the chance of fording a psychologically important groundhopping Rubicon. You see, my personal score in the grounds visited versus unvisited tally was a 21-21 tie.

Further investigation showed, surprisingly perhaps, that I’d only 6 Western clubs, specifically Airdrieonians, though I’d seen them at Clyde’s Broadwood Stadium before their current ground was built, Ayr United, Kilmarnock, Motherwell, St Mirren and Stranraer to tick off, but 15 Eastern clubs, which could  subdivided into East Fife, the solitary side from the Kingdom, as well as 6 lots of Highland laddies (Aberdeen, Cove, Elgin, Inverness Caley and Peterhead) and 8 in a loose amalgam, based around Tayside and its environs (Alloa, Arbroath, Brechin, Dundee, Dundee United, Forfar, Montrose and St Johnstone). Obviously, I’m taking liberties with my geographical interpretations, but there you go. Having already booked a weekend in Glasgow at the start of February, with Airdrie v Raith Rovers and Queens Park v Cove potentially earmarked and an Easter Saturday jolly to Dundee against Morton already in the planning stage, my thoughts turned to a day trip on January 11^th.

The choices, bearing in mind future planning, were: Alloa, Inverness or Stranraer. Frankly, having run the destinations through a train ticket website, £22 return to Alloa won hands down and so I headed North on the 9.46 to Waverley from Central Station, anticipating Alloa Athletic against Arbroath. The Wasps had replaced The Hornets of Hebburn, even if it meant I was missing out on Benfield’s rearranged fixture at home to North Shields. A 10-minute delay at Prestonpans meant I missed the 11.23 to Alloa, so the 11.48 to Dunblane became my gateway train to Perth. Arriving at 12.35, things went desperately downhill immediately I pitched up. The gale-force winds in the North East had been replaced by torrential rain as soon as we crossed the Border. The effect and prevalence of the tempest could be demonstrated by postponements at both Inverness and Stranraer, but also Stirling Albion. Even more distressing was the news that Alloa’s 4G pitch had failed an inspection and so the reason for my trip had been revoked, though even if the game had gone ahead, I had no way of getting there as the rail services in the whole area had been decimated by flooding on the tracks. It looked like I was stuck in Stirling for the afternoon, with no option but to break my booze ban to kill time. So much for Dry January eh?

Amazingly, just as I began to search Google for Craft Ale palaces in Stirling, one of ScotRail’s posh new trains turned up unexpectedly just after 2.00. It was headed for Waverley and, if I were being sensible, I should have headed back to Old Reekie to await the 20.00 to Newcastle, but news that it was stopping at Larbert gave me a chance to save the day. Stenhousemuir against Brechin City was on, proving Stenny’s 4G pitch was a better drainer than the one up the road at Recreation Park, though the dank, dreich weather meant Ochilview Park did not live up to its name; however, it’s always nice to see The Warriors come out to play. I’d boarded the train alongside the half a dozen disappointed travelling Red Lichties and disembarked at the same point as they did. Having already been to Stenny, the remainder of the journey on foot provided zero problems for this cartological cretin, though I was surprised to see a Tim Hortons on Tryst Road by the entrance to Ochilview Park. Even more surprising, the Maple Leaf did not flutter at half mast after the passing of Rush’s Neil Peart, or the 63 Canadian nationals who died in the Tehran plane disaster.

A swift exchange of £12 for entry and a programme, with a further £2 for an absolutely glorious steak and haggis pie, acted as a prelude to me taking a seat in the main stand, which appeared to have a larger crowd than my last visit in March 2018, when Elgin won 2-0, though Stenny somehow won promotion at the end of that season, as I was forced to take C81 rather than C86 as my perch. As long as it was named after an iconic NME cassette, I was happy enough. The crowd was subsequently announced as 629, including the bereft Red Lichties cheering on the home side against their local rivals, with approximately 60 visiting supporters in the away end, which was a respectable turnout for the bottom 2 sides in the bottom division. Once they kicked off, you could understand why the teams were occupying those rungs on the league ladder, as the game teetered on the brink of the unwatchable, with howling wind now accompanying driving rain, meaning the Warriors endlessly overhit passes with the gusting wind behind them. If there was an option, Stenny always took the wrong one and, having seen Brechin spurn two presentable chances, they deservedly fell behind when Olly Hamilton clipped a well-judged finish over the advancing keeper. It was goal of a quality the rest of the play did not warrant but saw Brechin ahead at the break and justifiably dreaming of swapping places in the table with their opponents.

Having spent the break pondering how I’ve visited Ochilview as often as I’ve been to Hampden and twice as often as my trips to Celtic, Hearts and the Huns, but still not seen Stenny score, I was delighted by the increased momentum shown by the home side in a massively improved second period. The strong wind in their faces forced the Warriors to play the ball on the ground, rather than aimlessly lumping it forward.  After a couple of efforts flashed just wide and anther brace were headed away from close to the line, the home side got their reward on 63 minutes when Andy Munro’s deft header nestled in the far corner. It was all Stenny now and they took a deserved lead on 80 minutes when David Hopkirk’s firm shot left keeper McMinn unsighted. At this point the Warriors were on course to end the day 6 points ahead of their rivals, making an end of season Brechxit a knocking bet, but a dismal lapse 5 minutes later allowed Hamilton to profit from weak indecision in the home rearguard, to tie the game up. This completed the scoring as a cautious subsequently Brechin ran the clock down against a deflated Stenny.

Full time, I stopped off at Tim Hortons for a couple of boxes of Timbits for Laura, then struck out for the train. The 17.18 was cancelled and the 17.48 crawled to Waverley in rain so heavy it appeared we spent 90 minutes in a giant carwash, though ScotRail’s free Wifi allowed me plenty of time to digest NUFC’s point at Molineux and Benfield’s weak showing in a 2-0 loss to Shields. A last latte from Costa and a seat in a deserted quiet carriage, while bladdered drunks screamed and shouted at each other in a neighbouring noisy one, were the order of the day as I arrived home just as Match of the Day started.

I’d have been 5 minutes earlier, but ran into a tall, tipsy Scotsman who bemoaned his team had been rained off, rather than telling me about his month in South East Asia. Welcome home Kenny; despite’s Damien’s cowardice, we’ll visit Dens on April 11^th. Mind, I’m on the lookout for potential Scottish trips on 22/2 and 28/3, as well as the aforementioned Easter trip, though February 1^st will be my next time in Bella Caledonia.

Alone Again, Naturally.....

Alone Again Naturally…

During the late afternoon of Sunday 29 December, it finally hit home that I don’t really have anyone I can call a close friend. Since Christmas, I’d spent most of the time in the long grass; laying low around the house, catching up on some reading and doing a spot of writing, with the only significant spell outdoors being a trip up in the hills for rather too much fresh air, to watch my beloved Benfield draw 1-1 with Consett. With my head in the clouds, I had a wonderful time catching up with my old pal Neil Farrington, decrying the falling educational and broadcasting standards in this country, while watching an entertaining contest that deservedly ended all square. My other companion on the day was my mate, and oftentimes chauffeur, Gary Thompson; another bloke I’m deeply grateful to know. It was great to have an ordinary day made special with such great company.

Despite the distances involved, I was back indoors by 6pm and didn’t stir again for the rest of the night. Hence by midday Sunday, I was starting to go stir crazy. Cabin fever had me crawling the walls, desperate for company and conversation, with only the cats to talk to, as Laura was spending the day with her mother. For a while, I fell into a black hole of social media and Sky Sports News updates as a bad day’s football unfolded; Hibs lost away to Livingston and Sunderland won at Doncaster, though at least MK Dons thumped Portsmouth. It wasn’t enough of a diversion though; I craved human interaction. Thirsty, antsy and irritable, darkness told me the pub was the only realistic option for me, though it seemed that I was destined to spend a few further solitary hours with only pints for company, as seemingly all my entreaties and exhortations on Twitter and WhatsApp, were either politely rebuffed or, more poignantly, ignored. Hence, I sat in The Lodge with Bass for succour, contemplating how my life had reached this point, whereby almost all of my old acquaintances have become sworn enemies, while my current ones tend to hold me at arm’s length. This is a state of affairs that is, unquestioningly, of my creation. However, and this may surprise you, I would contend it isn’t my fault, as in many instances, the situation that caused the fracturing of cordial relations, was engineered by me in the first place.

Over the years, it’s almost impossible to keep tally of the number of friends I’ve lost, but here goes my attempt to chronicle a few of them; probably my first serious experience of antagonistic victimhood was with the likes of Andy Balman and Neil Mackie, who did so much to destroy the original spirit of Riverside and the editorial independence of Paint it Red. It wrecked much of my social life at the time, but I feel justified in my stance, as it saw the obliteration of Newcastle’s music scene for a few years. Thankfully, due to a new generation of promoters, the city has never had a more diverse set of venues. Perhaps those involved learned from the past; indeed, Balman and I enjoyed a pacifying handshake at the Riverside book launch a good few years ago.

However, music is one thing; football is quite another. The overwhelmingly macho, patriarchal nature of the culture surrounding football on Tyneside means, aggressive, testosterone-fuelled posturing is a default position for so many involved in the beautiful game. As an example, most of my dealings with (former) NUFC fanzine editors, ended in recriminations and confrontations; initially it was the neo-Nazi nutcase Kevin Fletcher for his incessant homophobia, but that was 25 years ago or more. With Mark Jensen, it was because I questioned the quality of The Mag while still a contributor, with the effusive, good-natured Michael Martin, I was rusticated after I went off message from True Faith’s ethical standpoint. Goodness how I remember the hilarious “intervention” when the two of them called me into The Back Page, to play hard man / soft man with me.

Other Newcastle United related fallings-out include the gossamer-skinned journalist and opportunist author Martin Hardywho, despite a pronounced overbite, tried to set his face in a permanent scowl,  after I queried the veracity of his unfounded claims that all of our Muslim players would refuse to play for the club in Wonga shirts, with his batman and chief cheerleader Mike “Biffa” Bolam from nufc.com declaring war on me, for unspecified reasons, in several pubs and non-league grounds in subsequent years. The cause of his ire he has not expressly divulged to me, but he is one angry, protective man.

Additionally, there are several keyboard warriors I’ve had negative experiences with over the years, mainly because I’m humiliated them with logic in taking down their ultra-right-wing political opinions, as well as their all-round ignorance; most recently it was with Toontastic thicko Steve Richards, now banned from Twitter for his endless tirades of hate speech. Many years ago, it was www.skunkers.co.uk founder, the educationally challenged former criminal Neil Walls, and his camp followers the diminutive  accountant Steve Huddart, who physically attacked me in The Bodega, not to mention the notorious golfing BNP supporter David Bryan, who is possibly the most unhinged person I’ve ever met, all fall into the messageboard maniac category. Actually, hold that award; failed football hooligan Steven “Dole” Office and his close companion with the cuboid cranium David Dumble, combine zero intelligence, with threats of violence and an unapologetic Fascist ideology. Mind, they came off second best because of interventions when they tried to attack me the other year. Same as pretend NME toughy Sidney Yellowgrass, who tried to throw his weight around in The Newcastle Arms the other year, ironically out of slavish devotion to sock and tassle entrepreneur with his own overbite problem, the messianic Reuven Fletcher, who must be on first name terms with Winton Keenen, as he’s had the coppers to my door at least 4 times, including getting me banged up once. The fact I received zero cautions and faced a similar number of prosecutions after his allegations tells its own tale I feel.

In all honesty, other than Simon, there’s only Mike Bolam from that list I actually have some regret about the ending of any social interaction with. The rest of them, and I’m very firm on this point, temperamentally, ideologically or even both together, are not the kind of people I would wish to associate with for obvious reasons. I don’t hate any of them, even the ones whose physical attacks have sprung from the power of my words and the strength of my beliefs, but I do want them out of my life. On my terms it should be noted.

To be frank, I do harbour a pathological and ideological hatred of certain social groups and organisations; I hold Christians, bald, aggressive working class, alpha males and Leninist and Trokskyist Vanguardistas in utter contempt. I despise them, almost as much as I despise the Tyne & Wear Metro and Northumbria Police. The latter organisations have incurred my wrath because of my repeated, negative experiences when in contact with them. They are institutionally dedicated to persecuting me. Make no mistake these evil corporate entities won’t settle until they have killed me.

If I have reached the situation whereby family relations have fractured to the extent that my mentally-ill and emotionally inadequate sister, with her even more pitiful squad of lickarses, including daft Denver, and other weak failures, including Larry the Lisp, who have achieved the square root of fuck all while on  this earth, can report me to the coppers as regularly as Reuven Fletcher, with the same result in terms of prosecutions, I can live with explosions of anger from the likes of former childhood pal, the egregious social hand grenade, Garry Blythe without turning a hair. I may often walk alone, but I do so in complete awareness that I need never to apologise for or explain my actions. I will always tell the truth.

On that Sunday night, I was delighted see fellow Bad Boy Lee Reed when he popped into the Lodge for a couple of pints, en route to a Mexican meal with friends and family. No sooner had he lit out in search of tacos and tortillas than a superbly squiffy Steve Brown shambled through the door, portion of still wrapped curry and chips in hand, for several large G&Ts that ended the evening splendidly. Their visits rendered such good cheer that I could watch EFL on Quest and then Sportscene without grimaces, tears or even a superfluous deoch an doris. A great evening spent in great company; proof that you should keep in touch with your mates at all times.