Leven Early

I celebrated Eddy Cusack's 90th birthday by attending East Fife 3 Dumbarton 2 -:

Saturday 9^th March would have been my auld fella’s 90^th birthday. It also marked 50 years since the infamous Newcastle United v Nottingham Forest FA Cup sixth round tie. I remember that game like it was yesterday; Newcastle were 3-1 down after 56 minutes when Pat Howard was dismissed by referee Gordon Kew of Amersham for disputing a penalty, resulting in almost the entire Leazes End entering the field of play to discuss matters with the official who was away down the tunnel with the 21 remaining players pretty sharpish. Order was eventually restored, and an incredible turnaround occurred, with Bobby Moncur tapping home the winner in injury time, to give Newcastle a 4-3 win. One hell of a game, even if the spoilsports at the FA almost immediately declared the victory null and void, resulting in a replayed win at Goodison Park, of all places.

Sadly, I can only recall the events surrounding the first game at second hand, after watching the highlights on Shoot the following afternoon, because I was strictly forbidden from going to the game as I was only 9. On reflection, I think the auld fella just wanted a celebratory day on the gargle with his brother Brian and brother-in-law John. According to family legend, Eddy and John were debating the stupidity of the pitch invaders and asked Brian for his opinion, only to see the latter’s back as he retreated from view, storming across the pitch, pinstripe Oxford bags flapping in the breeze and SJP clarts adhering themselves to his mauve and tan platform shoes. Considering Brian looked and acted like Rodney Bewes in The Likely Lads (long leather car coat, sideburns etc), it’s no wonder it still gets brought up at infrequent family gatherings, which seem solely to consist of funerals these days, as every one of Brian’s siblings and their spouses have shuffled off this mortal coil.

To celebrate Eddy’s 90^th, I decided to take myself off for a spot of quiet contemplation, by availing myself of competitively priced train tickets and even cheaper bus fares that enabled me to head for Methil and East Fife v Dumbarton in SPFL League 2 for my 30^th tick of the 42 grounds that make up the Scottish set. Having enjoyed a mini crawl around Cullercoats the night before, I awoke with a bit of a sore head, no doubt occasioned by the poor quality of the beer in the Crescent Club, but still managed the bus and train connections, taking me effortlessly to Waverley. Unlike my last couple of trips to Bella Caledonia, I was not accompanied by Gary, whose secretarial duties for Benfield meant he had to deal with a home game against Shildon. Percy Main were away to Chemfica, ironically the third closest ground to my house, but I needed to be away and alone on this day. I know it is 15 years coming up since Eddy checked out, but certain anniversaries seem more poignant than others. Whether this has anything to do with my imminent 60^th birthday is a moot point.

Anyway, my travelling time was spent reading the end of Witch Hunt and the start of Bleeding Hearts by Ian Rankin, though the books were initially published under his nom de plume of Jack Harvey. I’ve set myself the target of reading all of Rankin’s books in 2024 and I’m now left with 14 of the 23 (soon to be 15 and 24) Rebus books to complete this task. As part of this undertaking, I’ve been required to read the non-Rebus part of his oeuvre, which veers wildly in both style and quality between brooding, literary novels such as The Flood to espionage yarns like Watchman. I’ve enjoyed them all, to a greater or lesser degree, but it’s the scabrous, psychological police procedurals that I like the most and, like the labyrinthine plots of those books, I’ve needed to make the occasional trip to the Kingdom to tick off grounds in my other quest for Scotch completism. Thus, having started the ball rolling at Raith Rovers versus a Faroese team in the UEFA Cup in 1995 and Cowdenbeath’s home loss to Dumbarton in 1997, I was at Kelty Hearts in January with Gary and here I found myself, completing the Fife ration, on a painfully slow moving, delayed X60 from Edinburgh, crawling through the uniquely named but rather quaint Coaltown of Wemyss, en route to Leven for Methil. Sometime in 2025, Leven train station will open, slashing journey times from the capital in half. It looks pretty good, located just on the Leven side of the river (Leven and Methil are the Buda and Pest of this part of Fife) and will be even better when the track has been laid.

Arriving at 2.30, I didn’t have time for sightseeing, so headed for New Bayview Park, along with 570 others. I’d been outside of the original Bayview Park back in 1995, but nothing remains of that ground, since the newish ground was built in 1998. Having initially had my ticket refused as I’d inadvertently tried to access the away section of the single stand that comprises the facilities, I entered the right one and immediately joined a queue for a pie and a Bovril, which consisted of an Oxo cube semi-dissolved in a mug of scalding water, with predictable results upon the relative strength of my beverage as I made my way down the cup. Unable to locate a programme, I bought a fridge magnet and took my seat on an aisle in the back row of Block B, parallel with the 18-yard line.

Bayview Park is similar in many respects to Dumbarton’s ground, though without the imposing Rock behind it, but with the sea almost lapping the far end. The essential difference is that Dumbarton faces west and East Fife, unsurprisingly, faces east. The biting, incessant gale off the water is a common factor for both, it must be noted. Also noteworthy is the incredible selection of music East Fife’s matchday DJ provided us with; a full, unedited Stairway to Heaven was followed by the Immigrant Song, suggesting this corner of Fife is still in thrall to hard rock, though this idea was partly quashed by the run-out music. I’d not heard Telstar by The Tornadoes in a couple of decades or more, but Joe Meek’s finest moment was loudly hummed along to by the 500 diehard regulars in yellow and black. It got even more surreal at half time, when Rick Astley was quickly supplanted by the whole of Love Will Tear Us Apart. Staring into the bleak, grey, broiling Firth of Forth, never has the song sounded more poignant, nor the listener felt more chilled, by climactic as well as cultural phenomena. Before then, we had some football to watch.

East Fife recently appointed legendary former Arbroath boss Dick Campbell to the manager’s position. He’s a pretty imposing figure and continuously patrolled the touchline, unleashing barbs of bile-inflected encouragement to his team who, cowed or inspired, took the game to Dumbarton from the off. The home side went ahead on 3 minutes when Man of the Match Nathan Austin touched in a loose ball at the back post. From then on, it was entirely one way traffic as East Fife, aided by a howling gale at their backs, overran the visitors and twice struck the frame of the goal. Somehow, the Sons kept the deficit to a single goal and remarkably found themselves ahead after a brace of unexpected goals. The first was a decent strike by Gray and the second a simple tap-in for Hilton, after some comedic defending. East Fife weren’t done, and veteran centre back Brian Easton nodded in an equaliser after 56 minutes. It had been a breathless start to the second period and Dumbarton adopted self-preservation mode, seeking not to lose the game and began an irritating amount of time wasting.

I hate leaving games early, but with my only guaranteed connection for the 19.00 from Waverley being the 16.55 from Leven, I felt I had no choice but to vacate my seat on 80 minutes. Typically enough, a muffled roar that was almost drowned out by the pneumatic hiss of the opening doors of the X60, signalled that Austin had popped up again, three minutes into stoppage time, to nod in the winner. Dumbarton had lost badly 5-0 at Stranraer in the week, but this defeat must have felt even more crushing. They still occupy the final play-off spot, but East Fife are within 6 points and don’t bet against Dick Campbell exhorting them to even greater wins than this.

All in all, a lovely ground and a great (sober!) day out, with all connections caught and only 12 grounds left to do. I’m hoping for St Johnstone or perhaps Dundee United next, though once Leven station opens I may visit Methil once more.