Record Score Day

Last Saturday didn’t start off that brilliantly, to be fair. For a start, I managed to leave my keys in the house. Once I’d realised I’d been so remiss in my duties as a father as to do this, I phoned my ever so helpful 16 year old son, who’d been comatose in his pit when I headed out. Unfortunately he was unable to help solve my predicament by either meeting up to lend me his keys, or rendezvousing back at the house any time before 6pm as he was “out” and therefore “busy” with his mates, meaning there was “no way” he could possibly “waste” his valuable leisure time by helping out a “moron” like me, especially as I’d been a “daft twat” for forgetting the keys in the first place. In the words of Philip Larking; “useful to get that learnt.”

To add insult to injury, a last minute goal for Marsden Inn Veterans cost Heaton Winstons a valuable victory in Division 4 of the Over 40s League; I’d called the ball as mine when our left back needlessly nodded it out for a corner, then watched in horror as the guilty man left the player who he was supposedly marking; needlessly to say the unguarded attacker stooped to stab home at the near post. I was desolate. I was incandescent.

To prove that trouble does form part of a power trio of despair, Percy Main’s home game with Harraby Catholic Club had bitten the mud for the third time this season. Four days of incessant rain, even if Saturday was sunny and pleasantly warm, meant that the Purvis Park impromptu outdoor swimming pool precluded football being played that day. Thankfully, a text from a mate saved the day; my frankly nauseating last minute begging saw the offer of an East Stand ticket for £30, meaning I’d be able to complete my personal tour of SJP for the season, for the first time ever (I think).

Things got even better when I arrived in town. A quick pint of Jarrow Brewery’s immensely palatable 4.0% Rivet Catcher (A light, smooth, satisfying gold bitter;  subtle fruity hops give the taste profile on tongue and nose, according to their website) in the Duke of Wellington put the world back on an even keel. For some reason, High Bridge was the equivalent of Bourbon Street crossed with Notting Hill in late August. Street traders flogging plates of spicy soul food, sound systems pumping anti populist dubstep and grime, happy kids and their relaxed parents milling around a makeshift stage outside the Old George told me this was Record Store Day; a superb celebration of all that is independent and good about the music scene worldwide.

In Newcastle, this meant that Reflex Records on Nunn Street was my prime destination. If the weather had been clement, I’d not have visited Record Store Day at all; Percy Main may boast the world’s best football team, but it’s decidedly light on quality vinyl emporia. My plan had involved sending the world’s best looking groundhopper Shaun Smith to do my shopping for me. In the event, I was able to nab a copy of the Wedding Present clear vinyl 10” Quatre Chansons, boasting 4 French language versions of songs on the new album Valentina and very fine it is too. Sadly, I was unable to locate the exclusive 7” single by The Fall, so if anyone has a spare copy, I know someone who is interested.

The main point of Record Store Day, apart from celebrating the diversity of the independent, is to open your ears to something new, which I did in the shape of purchasing Harmony Springs, the debut album by the brilliant Snowgoose. Another band from the seemingly bottomless pool of brilliant Glasgow talent, including both David McGowan and Raymond McGinley from the best band in the world, Teenage Fanclub, Snowgoose are the Pentangle to the Fairport Convention of Trembling Bells, with Anna Sheard boasting as fine a voice as Lavinia Blackwall. What is even better, Snowgoose played a short acoustic set in Reflex. From the opening bars of track 1 side 1 Crawl Out Your Window, I was mesmerised. This is acoustic contemporary pop with a forceful nod to 70s Folk Rock par excellence; you can read more when my next music blog (with an emphasis on album rather than live reviews) is uploaded by the end of next month.

By 2.20 it was over and I made my way to the Bodega for a celebratory Consett 4.0% White Hot (A refreshing, straw coloured ale) and a ticket transaction, before I made my eleventh trip to St James’ Park this season, for what turned out to be the easiest victory I’d seen in the top flight since the early days of Keegan’s final return in 2008, when Reading and Fulham were dismissed 3-0 and 2-0 respectively. However, it wasn’t just the ease of the victory, but the chastening experience of a seat in the sepulchral, hushed pews of the East Stand that enabled me to refrain from a single profanity in the whole 2 hours I spent in the ground. Well, you just wouldn’t cuss and swear with the percentage of Trappist pensioners nudging towards the majority in the top tier near me. Actually, I enjoyed the refreshing lack of intensity immensely; sunshine football on a rainy afternoon.

But what a glorious view of it all I had; far better than either the Stoke defence or Alan Pardew it has to be said. Without the distractions of singing, chanting or any form of social interaction, I was able to focus on the marvellous performance turned in by Yohan Cabaye; his darting then checking before darting again to head in Cisse’s effort that had struck the bar after Ben Arfa had produced another gold medal Oscar winner of a cross. I was forced to concentrate on returning my breathing to normal after almost hyperventilating at the run of Cisse and equally astonishing pass by Cabaye for the second. The entire ground, even the silent onlookers in my mute corner, rose to acclaim just how good a team Newcastle United have become. With less than 20 minutes gone, the game had been won, by a side who are as good as we’ve seen since Sir Bobby Robson’s young stars emerged from mid table obscurity to seize a Champions’ League spot in 2001/2002. Will history repeat itself? I desperately hope so as I teach Thursday nights and would miss all the Europa League fun.

The second half of this easy win reminded me so much of the games in the latter part of the promotion season (was it really only 2 years ago?), when the team squandered dozens of scoring opportunities, in trying to give Leon Best a chance to get off the mark. This time Demba Ba, looking a million times sharper and happier than of late, was the recipient of charitable acts that didn’t quite come off. No doubt sick of such misguided compassion, Cabaye curled as beautiful a finish in to the Gallowgate goal as you could wish to see, before departing, job done, after an hour. The temperature dropped and incessant sheets of rain drenched the ground, but 52,000 of us basked in the warm glow of the privilege engendered by watching one of the best sides in the country; Newcastle United are a team worth watching.

Sadly, stuck without keys, I headed home to High Heaton for my 6pm key exchange meeting with a contemptuous teen and 2 desultory bitter pints of bad Guinness in The Newton, rather than a skinful of real ale at the annual CAMRA beer festival, while watching the hated fascists win El Clasico in the company of 200 hundred boorish, pissed youths I did not know, rather than 500 middle aged beer bores. Still, you can’t have everything; at 9.15 on Saturday morning, I had precisely nothing to look forward to that day other than hunting for a front door key, so I suppose things turned out right.

5 Taken Breaths

So last week's monsoons meant Percy Main v Harraby was called off for the third time this season; here's my programme articles then -:

From The Main:

Good afternoon everyone and welcome to Purvis Park for this afternoon’s Pin Point Recruitment Northern Alliance Premier Division game against our old friends from Carlisle, Harraby Catholic Club, which is our final home game of the season. I’d like to extend a special welcome to all the players, supporters and officials associated with our Cumbrian visitors, knowing full well that win, lose or draw, our pal Mike Little will be giving the John Smiths in the Cricket Club the benefit of his connoisseur’s palate. There   is no doubt that if the game had been played on its first scheduled date, back on December 17th, we would have had several extra guests at our club Christmas do at the Tap & Spile, as our esteemed Cumbrian visitors know how to drink a sup. The game between the two sides was also called off on February 3rd because of snow and ice; the way the weather has been since Easter, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s off again today!!

Last week, the Main were inactive, with our last game being the 2-1 friendly win over Chemfica on April 7th. However, results elsewhere mean that our safety in the alliance top flight has been mathematically assured; I’d like to pay tribute to Beanie and all the lads for a magnificent post-Christmas shift to ensure this is the case. We currently sit in 11th place in the table; let’s try and get as high as we can in the 3 remaining games. Harraby are a class side and remain on the edfge of the title race in 5th place, with 3 games in hand on the leading pack. The Cumbrians have twice beaten us at their place this term; 1-0 in the Challenge Cup in November and 3-0 in the League encounter in early December. However, hope must spring eternal and we can take solace from the fact that the Main have avoided defeat in our last 2 home games against Harraby. In August 2009, we won a pre-season friendly 2-1 with goals by Joe Betts and Liam Knox (while a certain Mr Little sunbathed with a few pints while, concentrating on the sound of leather on willow next door). In October 2010, we drew 0-0 in a simply superb game of football that was a credit to both sides. Let’s hope for more of the same today!

After today, Percy Main are on their travels for the last two games; at Hebburn Reyrolle on Wednesday 25th April at 6.15 and in already relegated Murton’s final Northern Alliance game on Saturday May 5th, kick off 2.30.However, there is one more important game to be held at Purvis Park on Saturday 19th May, when Tony Browell’s astonishing achievement of 500 appearances for the Main is marked by a benefit game against a team of former Main players. Please come along and support one of the club’s greatest ever servants. Afterwards, there will be snacks and a few beers in The Victoria on Tynemouth Road.

Another date for the diary is the end of season awards presentation and race night, which is being held in the (formerly Old) Hundred on Saturday 9th June, which is the 150th anniversary of the Blaydon Races, fittingly enough. You can find out more about all events and keep in touch with club developments by checking our website www.percymainafc.co.uk

The website also gives details of the big fund raising innovation for 2012 is the NEW Percy Main Bingo Lottery, which is being overseen by Geoff. It’s very easy to get involved; just pick 6 numbers between 1 and 49, then choose how many weeks you wish to participate, cost of £1 per week for each set of 6 numbers, then see Geoff to pay your stake and get a lottery ticket in return, or email him at geoff@cinix.co.uk
Enjoy the game!!

Around The Grounds:

Well, the Alliance Premier Division title race is still wide open, with 5 potential winners all vying for prominence.  At the time of writing, Whitley Bay A are top, following their 4-2 home win over 10^th placed Blyth Town. A point behind with a game in hand, are Heaton Stann, who won 5-1 at second bottom Ponteland, which made us mathematically safe from relegation. Carlisle City, without a game last Saturday, lie third, three points behind, while a point behind them, with 2 games in hand on the leaders, are Hebburn Reyrolle, 3-0 winners over a Murton side condemned to finish bottom. In fifth are today’s visitors Harraby, 8 points adrift with 2 games in hand, after a 1-1 draw at 7^th placed Ashington Colliers. With Shankhouse, Killingworth and Seaton Delaval, in places 6, 8 and 9, also not kicking a ball, the focus of the other game was on relegation. Third bottom Walker Central were fixture free, while 12^th place Rutherford now only need a point to be safe after winning 3-1 at a Stocksfield side they leapfrogged with that result.

In Division 1, the only game played saw Heddon in 4^th beat Minor Cup finalists Chemfica in 9^th, 3-2. Below them Forest Hall in last place look doomed, but Morpeth Sporting Club still have a chance to escape. Amble United, needing a win to claim the title, and Wallsend Town have sown up the top 2 spots from gallant 3^rd placed Bohemians. In the Subsidiary Cup, either Gosforth Bohs or Newcastle University will win Group B and Amble will win Group A if the other Minor Cup finalists Wallington drop a point. Cramlington Town’s season ended with a 7^th place finish 3 weeks ago!

Division 2 may see up to 5 sides promoted to fill up the vacancies in Division 1, as there are reputedly up to 11 clubs interested in entering the Alliance’s bottom tier. Red House Farm still aren’t champions, after losing 5-3 at home to 8^th top Whickham Lang Jacks. Hexham, in second, are chasing hard after beating 10^th placed North Shields Athletic 2-0. Northbank went third after a 5-0 clouting of last placed Cramlington United; after that game, their goal difference is 2 better than Harton & Westoe, who won 3-1 against Willington Quay Saints, who stay 13^th. Wallsend Boys Club in 5^th were inactive, using goal difference to stay above Bedlington Terriers Reserves who lost by a single goal at home to 7^th placed New Fordley. The other games saw 11^th placed Alston lose 4-2 at home to Wideopen, who are 9^th and second bottom Swalwell lose 4-1 at home to third bottom Seaton Burn.

In the Northern League, Team Northumbria gained promotion to Division 1 by beating Seaham Red Star 2-0; they were playing Newcastle Reserves in the sSenior Cup Final at St. James’ Park this week; good luck to them.  North Shields, now managed by Graham Fenton, and West Allotment Celtic are 7^th and 8^th respectively after 2-2 draws away to Northallerton and home to Crook Town. In the top division, Whitley Bay seem likely to finish 6^th, after winning 2-0 away to Billingham Town, while Benfield stay in 12^th after they drew 1-1 at South Shields, whose goal was scored by our very own Tony Burnell.

Elsewhere, Gateshead, whose manager Ian Bogie is the uncle of Tijan and Aaron Kah I learned last week, are still in with an outside shout of a play-off spot after beating Forest Green Rovers 1-0. Sadly Blyth Spartans, 1-0 losers at home to Hyde United, have been relegated for the first time in the club’s history. Here’s hoping they can turn it around next year.

On-Line Gaming

Following on from my blog about the Smogs a couple of weeks back, the Teesside Cyber Civil War has really got underway, following their 0-0 draw with already relegated Doncaster Rovers last night. Just to put things in context, Middlesbrough had won 1-0 at Derby on Saturday, to sit in 7^th spot in the table, 1 place and 2 points outside of the play-offs, with 3 games to go; for this crucial game, they managed to attract a crowd of 14,967. To me this is scarcely credible (though we must remember Burragh are a club who once attracted 3,185 to a first team game in this this century); not only is it is an appalling total for any club aspiring to be promoted, it also 30,000 less than Newcastle averaged during our Championship year of rebirth and regrowth in 2009/2010. Yes; 30,000 less.  It’ll be interesting to listen to the 3 Has Beens  phone in on Century tonight, where no doubt the repeated mantra will be along the lines of; Allough Bearny, ut’s Malkum frum Stocktun, Bearny. Hai ave ter seh, Bearny, thut Mogguh’s gorra geow Bearny. Actually, it won’t be interesting; it’ll be akin to pointing fingers and laughing at the inmates of the Bethlehem Asylum in the late 18^th Century.

For years I’ve always felt the main philosophical difference between Newcastle and Middlesbrough supporters is that we are blind, incurable optimists, while they are gloomy, sullen pessimists. When both clubs were relegated in 2009, most observers picked Steve Gibson’s steady hand on the tiller as the reason why the Smogs would bounce back to the top flight, whilst Newcastle were assumed to be about to crash and burn. However, three years later, a very different picture has emerged; Newcastle are all but assured of European football next year, with the Champions League still a very real possibility (providing we don’t arse it up against Stoke on Saturday!!), while Burragh remain in 7^th spot, still 1 place but now 4 points outside of the play-offs. On Saturday they host Southampton, who need a win to mathematically ensure their promotion in a televised game; I’ll not hazard a guess at the crowd. Suffice to say, home wins for Cardiff versus Leeds in the 12.30 kick off and Blackpool against Burnley at 3pm, would render Boro’s mathematical pipedream an impossibility. As they are no longer entitled to the parachute payments that have featherbedded their debts since relegation, I’d suggest Yeats’s concept of historical gyres has some relevance to that lot; not so much C86 as The Second Coming.

The great thing about the level of competition between broadband providers, the availability of cheap lap tops and the preponderance of smartphones in the greater Teesside area (I use that geographical description with more irony than caution) is that the 15,000 actual Middlesbrough fans can all get on line and bicker tediously and incessantly with each other and the 20,000 other armchair Liverpool fans who’ve at some points drifted through Gibson’s folly. Roughly speaking, the Boro fans split in to two distinct camps; the nasty, snide, chip on shoulder, faceless, anonymous keyboard warriors who spout bile in a scattergun fashion at anyone they disagree with and who may be found at www.comeonboro.com while there are those who still grovel and disport themselves at the feet of Gibson and the weird, intense Mowbray who lay the blame solely on those fans who don’t show enough faith in their heroes and can be found at the Fly Me To The Moon fanzine website; www.fmttm.com. In the hours following the Doncaster game, the zealots from Board 1 invaded the private grief of the nodding dog ra-ras on Board 2, with the integrity, ability and future intentions of Gibson, Mowbray and FMTTM editor Nichols (referred to as “Westy”) all coming under scrutiny.

FMTTM saw things in this fashion: I am telling myself how far we have come since Strachan disaster and how much further we could go IF we all started to pull together and stopped the in-fighting and witch hunting and looking for a bogeyman to blame. Those are lessons we can take from this season. We cannot achieve anything if we let the trolls have the upper hand. If we let the negatives weigh us down we will get nowhere at all. The bad guys at Come On Burragh viewed it slightly differently; Hope his fanzine goes tits up as it was basically written by ra-ras who thought Southgate was the best thing since sliced bread. The "Fanzine" is just another club propaganda rag, like the program but without the gloss. It’s no wonder no one buys the fucking thing anymore. Westy must be on the payroll of the club or perhaps seats in the executive boxes is his payment?

To me, this level of hysterical internecine warfare is completely ridiculous as the club are still in with a shout of a play-off spot. Why aren’t they all getting behind their team and leaving the recriminations for the end of the season? Sorry, such logical, rational thought shows me to be a deluded Geordie, a phrase I’d never heard until the internet happened.

The internet and football message boards in particular, can be a bizarre, disturbing place for an outsider to venture in to. Never mind the tedious, forced bonhomie of Facebook or the genuinely supportive nature of band forums (The Fall excepted, obviously enough), where tickets, downloads, rarities and many other items are swapped or traded, as well as real friendships can develop and social events get organised, football boards are generally a bear pit of seething testosterone. Generally, this is because they are the preserve of ultra-macho wannabe alpha males, often in their 30s, generally balding and ageing rapidly.

There may be the odd exception; When Saturday Comes has cornered the market in tedious, chinstroking , supposed cultural commentary, which on their forum is the preserve of non-match attending polyversity Sociology and Media Studies drop-outs, who uniformly appear to support, without ever actually watching, AFC Wimbledon and Ipswich. Still it gives them somewhere to vent their spleen in a polysyllabic way other than on The Guardian’s website. Much of this spleen is directed towards Newcastle United; no doubt on account of The Guardian’s prolonged campaign against the club. When I ventured on to the WSC board in May 2009, astonished at the smug, parochial, glib blandishments that were allowed to pass unchecked as facts, in an attempt to counter such stereotypical propaganda, I was initially rusticated then excluded for swimming against the glib, bland tide of accepted wisdom for stating that Newcastle would not in point of fact “do a Leeds,” but would actually win The Championship with over 100 points. Another deluded Geordie eh? Still, I’ve been proven right.

The best, or worst, place for solid gold anti Newcastle bile is the mackem message board that I named On The Buses back in 2005, for its obsession with the tawdry goings-on related to away travel on the commercial coaches supplied by alleged fans of Sunderland and actual fans of Edwyn Collins. Go to www.readytogo.net/forum if you really want to read page after page of head-spinning, swivel-eyed hysterical hatred of everything Newcastle. According to them, the reason Newcastle have done well is that for 33 games this season the opposition haven’t turned up, or we haven’t played anyone yet or that Newcastle have got lucky (with our one-dimensional long ball tactics) and that referees are biased in our favour. However, such is their belief, this season is only a temporary blip as all the players will be sold and that next season Newcastle will be in the bottom 6 because of the distraction of Europa League football, as well as the loss of Ba, Krul, Tiote, Cabaye, Ben Arfa and, in January 2013 Cisse, who is still seen as a “bullet dodged” on the basis of an admittedly less than impressive showing in the Derby game. However why these imminent departures should affect Newcastle’s performance is a troublesome question, as according to OTB none of them are any good in the first place.

Of course, while the unemployable, the mentally ill, the socially inadequate and the sexually perverse who make up the constituency of On The Buses continue to rave and fulminate about Newcastle United, they conveniently ignore the fact that their saviour Martin O’Neill has actually overseen a widening in the gap between the two clubs since he took over. It is an undeniable fact that certain sections of their support are already questioning whether O’Neill is good enough, while simultaneously saying he’s better than Pardew (who is off to Spurs apparently) of course. While I can understand why firstly Brewse, for incompetence on the pitch, and then An fear leathanbhanda ar meisce (formerly known as Mr Charity) for a shameful lack of business acumen were given their cards, I am unable to see any bright future for 2012 FA Cup Winners Brazil on Wear. Party With Marty? More like Administration With Ellis from where I’m standing.

So, with the Smogs tearing each other apart while facing liquidation and the Mackems ignoring the fact their club is sliding towards an inevitable relegation once Ellis Short calls in his debts, is everything coming up roses in the Newcastle United garden? Well, sort of. On the pitch, providing we hold our nerve, things couldn’t be better; though that is said with the caveat that who knows what will happen to the playing squad this summer. Among the real world fans, things are looking up: United 4 NUFC and two of the three Newcastle United fanzines, the brilliant Toon Talk and the equally outstanding Black & White Daft continue to show that the people at the centre of this club are the fans; we are the moral owners and the real custodians of the history and culture of our club. Sadly The Mag remains as dull as ditch water and NUST an utter irrelevancy; a recent email to tell us that their recent elections have seen Rod Findlay, Peter Fanning and Robin Blagburn elected to the board was met with mute indifference across the entire NUFC supporting world.

However, the really interesting developments among Newcastle United fans can be seen on Twitter, where the ageing, balding, inflating 30-something ultra-macho wannabe alpha males are losing a fight that they picked. They’ve chosen as the targets for their ire, the left-leaning intellectual majority of Newcastle supporters, who comprise deep thinking 20-somethings, as well as experienced, hirsute ideologues in their 40s and 50s who have kept faith with their socialist principles and belief in the goodness of all humanity. These left leaning intellectuals are the living, beating heart of Newcastle United’s supporting social conscience; they are good people.

To the 30-somethings, raised in the belief that fists speak louder than words, the very concept that there may be a complicated truth that is preferable to a simple lie, is a deeply disturbing one. Aware of their diminishing physical powers, embarrassed by their intellectual limitations, they pour personal scorn and invective on those at either end of the age spectrum who calmly and pacifically have shown them the error of their simple ways.

Anger courses through the veins of the League of Bald Headed Men and they relentlessly demand satisfaction from those who would place flowers down the barrels of rifles given the chance. The left leaning politically correct intellectuals are embarrassed by the ultra-machos and their bellicose posturing. It gets worse when the balding boot boys issue unasked for promises to meet and sort things out, which are then hurriedly retracted in a shamefaced fashion via less than credible excuses involving missing phone chargers and the like.

As the mid-life crises gang become aware that their bluff and bluster does not impress those who’ve never been part of such a sub species as these radgey proto pugilists claim to belong, all there is left for those who’ve failed in their mission to be Top Boys because the opposition don’t want to be an opposition and have bigger ideological fish to fry, is gambling, problem drinking and the emotional succour they find on line. Often the 30-somethings seek to befriend the intellectually limited or the young and vulnerable, perhaps because it is only daft teenagers and the terminally thick that will be impressed by such tough guy talk. While there may be a sexual element to this, in the sense that the balding blokes are no longer so certain of their macho infallibility, it just seems that the weak and the lonely need to support each other. Frankly it is all rather pitiful. The left leaning intelligentsia, with the benefit of education and life experience over the failed bullies, forgive the weaknesses and inadequacies of those who seek to provoke confrontation.

It is time for the ultra-macho wannabe alpha male mugs and wrong’uns to pipe down; their race is run and they have been pulled up. Brains have beaten brawn without even being aware there was a contest in the first place.

Sweeney Agonistes

Many people think I'm a bit harsh on the Mackems. Well, I am, but don't worry, because here's something to show my bile isn't all channelled at them; a post about the Smogs, which I dedicate to Davo 44, Beamish boro & all my other mates from "Fly Me To The Moon"

Newcastle United are a rare club in many ways; perhaps one of the more obscure reasons for this is the fact we Magpies are bucking the trend in terms of paper based fanzines. Not only is The Mag, dull and ponderous though it may be, still in existence after almost 24 years and a bookshelf bending 267 issues, but there are two other publications on the go. Mick Edmundson from The Back Page bookshop (who issued the irreverent Toon Army News back in the early to mid-1990s) has got the market in superbly splenetic anti Mackem abuse and painstakingly accurate historical research sewn up with his enjoyable Black & White Daft. Meanwhile, Steve Wraith, who has been putting together magazines since he was knee high to a sawn off shooter, pilots the excellent and constantly improving Toon Talk. Very few clubs, other than perhaps Manchester United who have one extra current journal of supporter record, can claim such a high number of printed fanzines.

I don’t do away games any longer, but when I did, one of the highlights was reading the words, sometimes scurrilous, sometimes pretentious, of other supporters in a wide array of fanzines. That doesn’t seem to be possible any longer, with news of fanzines folding on a regular basis. Indeed, I can’t remember the last time I saw one outside an away ground. Only recently Wolverhampton’s A Load Of Bull threw in the towel after 23 years, claiming the cause to be the usual combination of apathy, declining sales and disenchantment with the way the game is going. As regards the first and last points, surely that’s the whole point of a fanzine? It exists as a vehicle for tirades against the faceless moneymen who’ve stolen the game from us.

However, the second point is very true; opinions may be like arseholes, but so, it seems, are football blogs. What is more, blogs cost nothing and are far more interactive (than fanzines, not arseholes) and, if they’re properly maintained, will by definition be more reactive than independent printed media. On that basis, that’s where Mickey Edmundson and Steve Wraith have made such creative successes of their latest magazines, by focussing their writers on precise, niche areas and avoiding creative bankruptcy associated with page after page of match reports of games that took place months ago.

One magazine that is in danger of closure, which seems insane with the club sitting in 7^th place in the Championship with a real chance of the play-offs, is Middlesbrough’s Fly Me To The Moon, a publication that has been issued for almost every single Boro home game since it made its debut appearance before a 1-0 home defeat to Sheffield Wednesday in November 1988. I’m not even sure how many issues that is, but I’m sure it’s well over 500.  In putting the announcement on his website of the potential imminent demise of his fanzine, the editor, childhood Newcastle United fan Rob Nichols asked not for sympathy, but contributions to the last few issues. Unfortunately, he got neither of those things, attracting the kind of intemperate wrath that would suggest that since Gordon Strachan packed up and left town, there’s only 1 candidate left for the position of Most Unpopular Man on Teesside. I mean, look at these two sample responses -:

rivals_oldschool 03/04/2012 16:36

Pointless when most of your content relies on the clubs co-operation. The precedent was set when the fanzine had to toe the line at the expense of being frozen out if it didn't. You haven't been asking any real questions of the club for a while now. It's a boring read. People can buy the matchday programme for that.

BerwickHillsBopper 03/04/2012 18:48     

The reason the fanzine is dead is because it has had nothing to say for many a year. Just a MFC propaganda prop up. Just shining a smaller light on the positive spin MFC already puts out about itself… At a local level, the fanzine could have mounted an assault on many of the negative things that have affected Boro fans at home and away. Instead you chose to ignore major issues such as fan treatment, ticket prices, safe standing, the morgue like atmosphere at home, the loss of matchday culture etc etc. Instead we got "exclusive interviews" where the same old rubbish that has been said 100 times before is said for 101st time. The time for mourning FMMTM as a fanzine is not at the end of the season should it fold; it would have been many, many years ago when it ceased to be a real vehicle for the fans and real fans issues. RIP FMTTM? About 12 years too late methinks.

Speaking personally, I like the editor Rob Nichols, who I also know as a devotee of The Fall and other arcane musical treats, including his own wonderfully off-kilter combo Shrug, immensely. While I’ve problems with his rewriting of history of the Mido game in August 2007, having undergone a post traumatic volte face when Fleet Street came knocking, or the farcical non-story of the pensioner supposedly attacked by Newcastle fans in November 2008 outside the Riverside that didn’t even make up a molehill of half-baked beans, everything else about the fella is worthy of undiluted praise.

I’ve stayed at his house, attended his 40^th birthday party and even contributed to 85 issues of the magazine, writing a regular column in almost every issue from 1996 to 2002, as well as contributing to 2 annuals they produced, taking the back cover photograph for the first of them. Subjects covered by my jottings included non-league football, general comments on the game, as well as a detailed diary of my Slovak sojourn from 1999 to 2001, which is currently available at www.britskibelasi.footballunited.com

You probably wonder why, as a Newcastle fan, I wrote so much for a Boro fanzine. Good question, as I can’t stand Middlesbrough as a club, even if in August 1986, I was one of 30,000 Newcastle United fans who dug deep to fill the collection buckets outside SJP for the debt riddled side that were locked out of Ayresome Park. That dislike has nothing to do with the supposed regional proximity of the two clubs; I hate the Mackems for their proximity. I hate Boro because they embody everything that is wrong with the modern game; never mind their weird, intense manager, there’s also their sterile, flat-pack ground in the middle of nowhere, half full of replica shirted, face painted, foam handed, curly red nylon wigged Sky era fans who think singing Pigbag is the very epitome of assured fan terrace culture and who mostly supported Liverpool until Captain Lager arrived to crash face first on to tables laden with drinks in Tall Trees and attempt to spend Steve Gibson’s fortune in double quick time around 1994. These days the 15,000 or so who huddle against the cold in the Riverside and phone the 3 Has-Beens on Real Radio with incessant moaning (Allough Bearny, ut’s Kaerl frum Stoktun; ah’uv gorruh seay Bearny tha eez gorruh goh, Bearny) may be the supporting equivalent of crash test dummies, but it never used to be that case.

My first trip to Middlesbrough was back in 1983; a 1-1 draw on a February afternoon. We took the train from Heworth, a 2 coach rattler peopled by 1,000 moustachioed headcases in NCB donkey jackets and a similar number of Tacchini and Samba youngsters with wedge cuts. At Thornaby, the Teesside police hauled us off the train and the local Superintendent informed the massed ranks of half drunk and decidedly radgey NUFC supporters that we could either get back on the train and go home now, or be herded on to another cattle truck direct to Boro, but if we did, and I quote, I am unable to guarantee your safety from this point onwards. Valour being the better part of discretion to an 18 year old, we of course went to the game, and by the simple expedient of looking like a couple of punters hanging around the mixing desk at a Birthday Party or Tuxedomoon gig, avoided a shoeing from hell courtesy of the famed Clive Road Axemen, antecedents of notorious thugs The Frontline, who thankfully appear to have receded from view.

The last football game I saw in Middlesbrough was Newcastle 0 Arsenal 0 in a three-quarters empty chain pub, back on August 13^th before attending a Wedding Present gig at the Town Hall Crypt. That day, Boro had beaten Leeds away; the reverse fixture when Warnock’s team dismantled the home side on BBC1 is the only time I’ve seen their side this season. It wasn’t much cop; if they go up, they’ll be lucky to get double figures in points. However, whatever I feel about the club, their traditional fans, their modern fans and their disturbing manager, I do feel Boro’s support, such as it is, should be offered the opportunity to write down their moaning and see it in print. Consequently, I desperately hope Fly Me To the Moon survives, which is why I’ve penned this article.

Fragments of Unpopular Culture 10: On The Town

The next generation of Groundhopping is in good hands. Despite being morally flawed by his devotion to Heart of Midlothian, Steven McCann is a good lad with a good blog (http://thetravellingfan.blogspot.co.uk/) that includes trips to see Percy Main. He's regularly in these parts as his partner is from Newcastle. As a result, he wanted to blog about the place; I wrote this piece for him

“I loathe my childhood and all that remains of it…” (Jean Paul Sartre, “Les Mots”).

As a teenage existentialist, I could have picked a better place to be dragged up than Felling, a scenic fishing village on the south bank of the Tyne. Actually, the eastern exurb of Gateshead wasn’t that bad a spot in the late 70s; lax licensing laws in the local off licences and easy access to Newcastle meant gigs, pubs and St. James Park were always in reach.

Until I turned 18, I’d always wanted to escape the North East forever; I craved London applying to University there and scanning the NME gig guide each week as I was convinced I’d make a home there. Sadly, a Grade E in my French A Level (never could get my head around le subjunctif) stalled my progress. Instead of Goldsmiths in Lewisham, the University of Ulster in Coleraine was my destination. Three years of Guinness, cheeseburgers and draw later, I emerged without a short term memory but with a IIi. This was 1986; it was menial jobs in London, the dole on Tyneside or teaching.

Post PGCE in Leeds that hadn’t become a Yorkshire Milan, but still espoused a David Peace “Red Riding” ambience, I found myself back in Newcastle. Property, partner and a profession meant I’d never leave. The season ticket and son cemented my stay, until 1999 when I threw it all up to embrace a mid-life crisis in the shape of a Slovak odyssey in Bratislava. Running out of options in 2002, I came back to High Heaton; I’ll leave feet first in a box.

Newcastle is a great city; small enough to navigate, large enough to hide. It’s safe and hedonistic; it’s against conformity and in favour of brotherhood. I’m nearly 50 so I use it for gigs and real ale. The Ouseburn Delta is my spiritual home; The Tyne, The Free Trade & The Cluny provide all you need for a night out. If you want the city centre, The Bodega, Tilleys, The Head of Steam, The Forth and The Newcastle Arms have it all. The Quayside is shit, but the Crown Posada should be visited once in your life.

In the 47.5 years I’ve had on this planet, 39 of them have been spent within 3 miles of St. James’ Park. I don’t regret that at all.

Musical Notes: 1972 Forever.....

Did you enjoy the game on Sunday afternoon? If you’re sensible and watched Newcastle dismantle West Brom, the answer will be yes. If you’re stupid like me, and watched a stultifying 0-0 from Dalymount on RTE2 between Bohs and St. Pat’s, the answer will be no. Of course, I made up for it with my live football attendance; on Saturday I met up with some blogging, tweeting, real ale quaffing, music loving pals at the FA Vase semi-final when Dunston deservedly beat Staveley 1-0; here’s hoping they do the job this Saturday in the second leg down in Derbyshire.

 Even better was Team Northumbria’s sparkling second half performance on Monday night when they came from a goal down to beat Billingham Synthonia 3-1 in the Northern League Cup, while 26 goals were scored in the first round of the EA Sports Cup. Then there was Wednesday’s delightful evening at Hillheads, among sparkling companions, where Whitley Bay A defeated Ashington Colliers 4-1 in a great game. Best of all was Tuesday night, when we all discovered Party With Marty actually involves making Everton look like Brazil 70.

 However, apart from that opening brace of paragraphs, there’s no football here on the blog this week; sorry everyone, but as the first third of 2012 is drawing to a close, I thought I’d like to focus on some music for a change. Not recorded music, as I’ve not bought any yet this year, though that’ll soon change with releases by The Wedding Present, Gerard Love’s Lightships and Trembling Bells with Bonnie Prince Billy on order, but live music. Having been to 5 gigs this year, in the period between February 23^rd and March 23^rd, I thought I’d give you my impressions on what I’ve seen and heard. Partly because I’m opinionated and partly because I realise I’m slightly rusty when it comes to writing about music, so here’s the blogging equivalent of a five finger exercise.

Actually, perhaps the best gig could have been the one that got away, though I doubt it; my mate Dan from work is in a band called Dennis and they were supporting obscure one –hit wonders Baby Bird on the latter’s last chance tour at the Academy on February 4^th. As this was a Saturday night, it was a freakishly early show, with them due on stage at 7.30. I made for the queue around 7.00, but my passage was blocked by 1,000 geeks, weirdos and associated beatniks with green hair, bike jackets and ripped tartan keks, as the truly woeful Misfits were playing downstairs. By the time they’d let that lot in, it was 7.45 and there was no way I was paying £15 to see quarter of an hour of the support act, regardless of the chance to hang around for “You’re Gorgeous” with a couple of dozen curious onlookers. In the end, the Thornbridge Jaipur in the Bodega and Newcastle Arms rightfully won the day. So, who did I actually get to see?

The Staves: February 23^rd The Cluny

Actually they were supporting Michael Kiwanuka, who is my idea of torture, as sincerity always grates. The Staves are a sweet voiced trio of sisters from Hertfordshire who are closer to the early 80s acoustic indie ladies, The Marine Girls, than they are to the more fist-pumping power folk populists like Noah & The Whale or Mumford & Sons. To me, that’s a good thing as I’m wary of anything too commercial in the folk genre; give me Phil Ochs over Peter, Paul & Mary any day. The Staves have one stand out track, “Mexico,” when their 3 part harmonies soar over hushed guitar picking. They are nice young ladies and they deserve to do well; however, even if they sell jack shit, the sound they make is pleasant, undemanding and pure.

Fairport Convention: February 26^th Sage 2

Well, just what can you say about a band that are celebrating 45 years together? Apart from “I wish I could go to Cropredy as it ends on my birthday this year,” not much. The steady, settled line up was back again on their 33^rd annual winter Tour, playing the usual classics; “Matty Groves” and “Meet On The Ledge”  bring the house down as joyously as ever, but minor jewels such as Chris Leslie’s brilliant interpretation of “The Hexhamshire Lass” deserve fulsome praise as well. Also, what I love about these folk gigs, apart from the fact time seems to have magically stopped in 1972, is that I’m one of the younger elements in the audience.

Rab Noakes: March 4^th Porters

If things had gone to plan, I’d not even have been here for this, but that’s enough moaning over my cancelled trip to Arbroath. Instead, there was the opportunity to have a lemon and ginger infusion in Tynemouth Station’s swanky coffee house, while watching the hidden gem of Scottish singer songwriting in a capacity crowd of 50. Noakes, who was an early member of Stealer’s Wheel, is probably most famous for writing “Turn A Deaf Ear” and “Together Forever” for Lindisfarne (Ray Laidlaw put this gig on incidentally). Both of those got an outing, as well as about a dozen of his songs that extend back 45/50 years to his roots in small town Fife. There were also covers of Dylan, Leadbelly, Radiohead and, bizarrely, “Bye Bye Blackbird.” To be in the presence of a celebrated, intense talent was an unexpected pleasure. I do hope I get the chance to see him again.

Sexual Objects: March 16^th Star & Shadow

So we leave 1972 and head to 1981. Davey Henderson, of Fire Engines, Win & Nectarine Number 9 fame, came down from Glasgow with his arcane patter, intense guitar driven harmonies and innovative improvisation. No merchandise on sale; no hint at a tour, just a minor post punk genius playing atonal riffs in front of the size of crowd you’d get at a Northern League Division 2 game; I loved it. I loved the support as well; Beauty Pageant, who appear to be Heaton’s answer to Teenage Jesus & the Jerks meet Essential Logic. Tunes? No thank you!

Ray Jackson’s Acoustic Gathering: March 23^rd Cluny 2

I’d gone 30 odd years without seeing Lindisfarne, then two of them turn up in the space of a month. Jacka, together with former members of Magna Carta and Fotheringay, played at the Cluny 2. Great gig it was, I’d think twice about attending this cramped, claustrophobic cellar again; 12 people pushing past you to get to the bog in one song is just no fun. To be fair, it was a non Ray Jackson number and the audience were only there for him. He began with “Road To Kingdom Come,” took in “Together Forever” and “Lady Elanor,” before ending with “Meet Me On The Corner.” It honestly had me on the verge of tears; there was no “We Can Swing Together,” but he did the harmonica bits as a last encore. “Blaydon Races” on the mandolin? You can’t beat it.

I’m happy to stay in 1972.

Gravity's Rainbow

Despite my protestations and affectations to the contrary, I do still love Newcastle United. Last Sunday’s 1-0 win over Norwich City, coming as it did after 4 games without a victory, was richly and riotously celebrated, even if rejoicing would be too strong a word for the emotion engendered by this contest. Frankly boredom was the predominant feeling as the second half dragged on; having seen Canaries keeper Ruddy make 3 blinding saves in the first half to keep the score respectable, after the break I began to wonder what on earth I could possibly write about.

In search of inspiration, I headed to Blue Flames on the Tuesday following to watch Newcastle Reserves play Chelsea’s second team; as Nile Ranger had been selected, the game was presumably taking place there rather than at SJP to satisfy one of the dozens of bail conditions surrounding his current legal complexities. Boasting £18m striker Romelu Lukaku up top, it was no surprise the team in blue eased past the dispirited and demotivated collection of imminent free transfers in black and white to win 4-2. Quite where Newcastle United’s shadow squad goes from here, bearing in mind Llambias has announced the club will have a smaller squad of players next season than the current one, is a moot point. Suffice to say, these young men have the weight of failure on their shoulders; if current history repeats itself, few of them will find clubs in the Football League to carve out a career.

One former Newcastle United reserve is Frank Wiafe Danquah; born in Amsterdam, he was a product of the Ajax youth set up and signed for Newcastle in 2006, around the same time as another Dutch youngster by the name of Krul. Unlike the brilliant Tim, Danquah’s career stalled. Following the expiry of his contract in 2010 he left SJP, firstly heading to Ferencvaros in Hungary, then to Beveren in the Belgian second division and thence on trial to Gateshead. When no deal was forthcoming at the International Stadium, he signed for the second ranked side on Tyneside, Newcastle Benfield. Currently, he’s not getting his game.

While I’ve been attending games at SJP since a 2-2 draw with Leicester City on New Year’s Day 1993, I’ve not as yet managed to see any silverware being won, other than 2007’s Inter Toto Cup of course. However, as a devotee of Benfield, who are my Northern League side, I’ve cheered them on to 3 League Cups in 2006, 2009 and 2011, as well as the League Title, won in the last game of the season away at Penrith, when Steven Young’s 86^th minute winner put the Walkergate Brazilians top of the table for the first time that season. It was a tremendous night; the squad were united, committed and playing out of their skins; it was a richly deserved title. Heady, happy days and, having seen them tumble out of the League Cup at home to North Shields last Wednesday, a million miles away from the current situation at Sam Smith’s Park, where a palpable air of gloom and anger hangs over the place. However those emotions were not sparked by this game, but by a complete failure to act and utter dereliction of duties by the football authorities to deal with one of the most shameful incidents in the entire history of the Northern League.

The loss to The Robins was the 11^th reverse on home soil this season, 9 of which have been in the League; with Spennymoor and Whitley Bay ominously still to visit. There have been 3 managers in charge; Paul Baker ended his second spell as boss last September, allowing long-serving, loyal midfielder and scorer of the goal that won Benfield their first Northern League Cup in 2006 over Nissan, Alusene Bangura to take charge; sadly he decided to leave on Saturday 10^th March after a 2-1 defeat to Billingham Synthonia. His replacement, until the end of the season, is former Spennymoor assistant Perry Briggs, who has overseen 3 successive losses so far, the last of which was 3-1 at Ryhope on the Tuesday Chelsea Reserves were winning at Blue Flames. Currently, Benfield are 12^th in Division 1; while they are 13 points clear of relegation, they have lost their last 5 games and have nothing other than a Northumberland Senior Cup semi-final away to Team Northumbria on Monday April 2^nd to look forward to.

While the current situation is neither particularly bleak nor grim, it does tell of a club who have stagnated; their great side of 3 years ago has either got older or moved on, with the replacements not up to the previous standards. This is disappointing from a spectator’s point of view, but it is not the real reason for writing about Benfield; the purpose of this blog is an altogether more serious one. Sadly, yet again, the spectre of racist abuse and the rotten core of institutional bigotry and inaction that blights the game at all levels, simply have to be addressed. It is a story whereby none of the North Yorkshire Football Association, Guisborough Town FC or the Northern League can emerge from with any credit whatsoever.

I’ve followed Benfield since their elevation to the Northern League in 2003, though my involvement with Percy Main (and Newcastle United if I’m totally honest) limits my chances of seeing the Lions that often these days. Indeed, in 2011/2012, I’ve only managed to see them 5 times, 4 of which have been at home. Certainly the most crucial of these encounters was not the scintillating 1-1 draw at Hillheads on Boxing Day in front of a magnificent 523 fans, it was the 3-2 home reverse to Guisborough Town on Bank Holiday Monday 2^nd January.

On paper, a loss in front of your own fans to a newly promoted side who are struggling at the foot of the table is always disappointing, but having given a soft goal away and then seen keeper Andrew Grainger sent off, it was always going to be a struggle to get anything out of the game. Despite a second half rally, so it proved. However, the result pales in to insignificance when an incident involving Benfield’s young right winger Jordan Lartey is examined.

Midway through the first period, with Guisborough leading 2-0, a visiting player went down injured, then rolled off the pitch. As he was outside the field of play, Benfield continued attacking, winning a corner. As the corner was about to be delivered, a Guisborough player unleashed a vile volley of racist invective in the direction of young Jordan, who thankfully didn’t hear it at the time. Amazingly, despite being stood 10 yards from the incident, the referee claimed not to have heard anything either. The abuse was caught on camera by a Sky TV news crew who were filming the game for their Tyne & Wear website, which includes regular bulletins on North East non-league football (two cheers for Rupert Murdoch) and the existence of this footage is the kernel of the subsequent disgraceful inaction by the football authorities.

http://tyneandwear.sky.com/home/article/7922 

At half time in this game, both the Benfield and Guisborough secretaries were called to the referee’s room to discuss the incident. Word spread that the racist in question would not be getting away with it and that Benfield were pressing to have the book thrown at him. I left the ground that day with the clear belief that a complaint would be made in the strongest terms possible to both the Northern League and the North Yorkshire FA about the incident. For two months, nothing happened, other than the Northern League website carried weekly sweetheart stories about what a wonderful club Guisborough Town are. On March 10^th, Jordan’s mam tweeted that the North Yorkshire FA had advised no further action should be taken, despite the incontrovertible video evidence.

The truly appalling thing about this is that, by refusing to deal with a clear case of racist abuse that has been captured on video tape and is in the public domain, the North Yorkshire FA are probably applying their regulations to the letter, in the sense that because the referee did not take any action at the time, there is nothing they can do, or are minded towards doing. However, regardless of their current policies, to allow the repulsive racial abuse of a player by an opponent sends out all the wrong signals and is frankly an absolute outrage.

Benfield are the only club in the Northern League I’ve seen who have black fans and, until last week, a black manager who served his club with distinction for almost 15 years. The only time I’ve heard racist abuse prior to this in a Northern League ground was at Sam Smith’s in December 2004, when a Shildon fan reacted badly during his team’s 4-2 loss with a mouthful of stinking filth in the direction of Alu Bangura. Thankfully, other Shildon fans responded to this Neanderthal’s conduct with disgust and impressed upon the racist idiot the need to shut his mouth, which he did and eventually slunk off out of the ground.

As far as I’m aware, nothing more happened after that incident. While the Shildon fan’s conduct was appalling, at least his peers showed their intolerance of such behaviour. The same level of disgust and direct action was not discernible when former Morpeth Town manager Trevor Benjamin was called “a fucking black cunt” by a Darlington Railway Athletic player in September 2010. The player, who is still with the Brinkburn Road club, was subsequently fined £50 and banned for a paltry 4 games, while Darlington supporters took to the north east non-league message board to complain about the decision’s severity, as the incident hadn’t featured in the referee’s report.

The ignorance and invective directed towards Benjamin made Liverpool’s statement in support of the loathsome Suarez sound like a set of lyrics by Chuck D. However, this message board has recently deleted any comment relating to the Jordan Lartey incident; I’m not claiming the owners or whoever is behind this HTML encoded cretins’ picnic are overtly racist, but their “case closed; debate over” attitude is, in effect, providing tacit institutional support for an appalling decision by the Blue Blazers that run the game at county level.

However, the North Yorkshire FA are not the only ones to come out of this whole sordid affair reeking of hypocrisy, cant and smug indifference; Guisborough Town may claim they have no responsibility to discipline or dismiss a player who has not been convicted of any transgression, but they’ve heard the video tape, many of them were at the game. Pitifully, the reaction of certain Guisborough fans when Benfield supporters voiced their displeasure in no uncertain terms was to say that swearing is as bad as racism and that bad language, of whatever type, is not tolerated at their ground; an attitude that displays the kind of pitiful, sickening, small-minded, ignorant, Daily Mail ideology, containing no understanding whatsoever of the pernicious, evil nature of racism. They should be ashamed of themselves.

And so should the Northern League. Despite the incidents in 2004 and 2010, the Northern League has nothing on its website that states racism is unacceptable in the game. Never to my knowledge has the League sought to engage in any initiative that combats intolerance, preferring instead to focus on profanity and not prejudice. Whether is ignorance, indifference or tacit tolerance of bigotry that allows the League to get away with such inaction, while repeatedly launching campaigns against foul and abusive language, I am not sure. However I do know that no language can be more foul and more abusive than that launched at Alu Bangura, Trevor Benmjamin or Jordan Lartey.

Watching grassroots football north of the Tyne as I do, it is becoming more and more obvious that the changing demographics of the area between Byker and the Coast mean that the preponderance of talented young black and mixed race footballers in the Northern Alliance and Tyneside Amateur League will no doubt eventually be translated in to a similar ethnic mix in the Northern League, perhaps not across all clubs, but certainly around the Newcastle, Gateshead, North and South Tyneside areas. Benfield, Team Northumbria and North Shields all have black and mixed race players on their books; soon West Allotment, Whitley Bay and the clubs south of the Tyne at Dunston, South Shields and Hebburn will no doubt follow. How exactly will the backwoodsmen from monocultural settlements in West Durham and North Yorkshire deal with that? Unless clear, unequivocal statements spelling out that the sort of abuse we’ve discussed here will simply not be accepted, then I shudder to think what some of the less advanced clubs and their supporters will try to get away with.

When will the administrative apologists for prejudice and racism end their sickening approximations of Pontius Pilate and face reality? The north east is changing, football is changing and the Northern League needs to accept and embrace this. Never mind stamping out swearing, surely it is time for them to show racism the red card and not the white flag?

The Children's Crusade

I love my job; 99% of the time it is an honour and a privilege to do the work I do. I especially appreciate the hours I am required to work; having a Wednesday morning off affords me the perfect opportunity to scribble these few notes each week. This joyous happenstance occurs in return for working one evening a week. Originally it used to be a Tuesday, but since September 2007 it has been a Thursday evening; I’m happy to do this, secure in the knowledge that I’m highly unlikely to miss any football on that day, especially since Newcastle United opted out of UEFA competitions, having won our second major European trophy, the Inter Toto Cup in 2007. Anything less than 3 points against Norwich on Sunday and it’ll appear that our boycott is continuing next season as well, which will come in handy when planning for next year.

Obviously there are the occasional down sides to this working arrangement, especially as the Europa League throws up the odd gem of a game; arriving home at half time in the Spurs v Shamrock Rovers game last November was one such instance. Another occurred only last week, when Athletic Club went to Old Trafford and won 3-2 in a superb spectacle of attacking football. At some point UEFA has slipped in the fact that some Europa League games can kick off at 6pm, for television presumably, which is why I missed Manchester City’s defeat in Portugal.

Thankfully I was able to see the magnificent Bilbao side tear through the Manchester United defence at will, securing a thoroughly merited 3-2 victory. My respect at admiration for all things Basque, but especially the beautiful and vibrant city of Bilbao, made for the first piece I composed for this blog back in July 2010 and for another piece when Ben and I visited last summer, which makes me regret I was unable to be there back in 1994 with Newcastle in the UEFA Cup. It is my fondest hope that when Athletic Club move to the new San Mames in 2013 that Newcastle United are invited to be the opponents when it is time to open the ground. In the present time, I’m very disappointed the return leg kicks off at 6pm so I’ll miss the game.

With such a breath taking spectacle unfolding on free to air terrestrial TV last week, it is a wonder that any other game of football anywhere could have received any attention at all. However, good old Newcastle United managed to make front page headlines with the off field antics that surrounded the reserve encounter with the Great Unwashed the same night. It has been a bone of contention among the conspicuous uber ultra element in the fanbase that home reserve games are increasingly being played behind closed doors at the club’s Darsley Park training ground. Obviously those of us with a reasonable knowledge of cycle tracks in the North Tyneside area are aware of the fact it is possible to peek between gorse bushes and leylandii hedges athwart the East Coast mainline and the Inland Revenue’s Tyneview Park complex on random midweek afternoons in order to see these games, but frankly why would you bother?

The 4 prior games in 2011/2012 that were accessible to the public, attracted crowds of 197 (6-0 v Norwich), 582 (3-2 v Liverpool), 317 (2-0 v Ashington in the Northumberland Senior Cup) and 186 (5-1 v Bedlington Terriers in the same competition) to West Allotment Celtic’s home ground Whitley Park, aka Blue Flames. Considering the latter 2 games will have seen about 50% of the crowd supporting the non-league sides, it’s clear a fairly tiny percentage of NUFC’s support have been bothered to stir from their fireside to see these games; undoubtedly though, there are those who bemoan the lack of access to stellar contests against the shadow squads of Everton, Bolton and Wigan that were played out away from the prying eyes of the general public. Presumably these zealous complaints will be at the Blackburn Rovers game that takes place tomorrow afternoon at 1pm. Fair play to them if they are.

After the previous Sunday’s emotionally charged kickboxing inspired Derby game, it was of no surprise to anyone that the return of the mackems to Tyneside, even if it was only their stiffs, would be met with the consequent, predictable increase in testosterone levels across both sides of the divide. Hence, the contest at St. James’ Park attracted a crowd of 2,995, which more than doubled the aggregate attendance of all home reserve fixtures this season that have previously seen an average gate of 320. I think it is fair to say the extras weren’t persuaded to show up because Obertan and Gosling were getting starts in this one.

From all I’ve read, the game was a bit of a cracker; Obertan scored a belter, our keeper had a meltdown and presented them with 2, before Gosling levelled and was subsequently sent off for “scoring” with a punch after they’d regained the lead, before Ryan Donaldson levelled things up in the last 5 minutes to make the final score 3-3. All well and good; sure there had been a non-stop exchange of profane, witless banter between the two sets of adolescent hotheads and there were numerous tales of depressing Mackem aggression towards NUFC supporting youngsters inside and outside of the ground by bullies twice the age of their intended victims, whose only “crimes” were to have been born close to a different river, speak with a different accent and opting to follow the local rivals of these brave men in expensive footwear.

However, that can all be put to one side, apparently, because of the “riot” that Donaldson’s game sparked, which caused the referee to stop the game, even though he didn’t. Play had already been halted because of an injury, but as I remarked last week, a lie placed on the internet becomes the truth once it has been repeated enough times, especially if you’re a Mackem. In short, this alleged mass act of civil disobedience was a gang of young lads who always stand in the top rows of the East Stand at reserve games and sing their hearts out for the whole 90 minutes, who were in the same position for the Blackburn youth cup game a fortnight previously, getting carried away with the atmosphere on the night and tearing down the large cardboard Sports Direct adverts from the back wall of the stand, though as the joke said, they weren’t fully successful, only managing to get 70% off. These were bits of cardboard, not boulders or Molotov cocktails; they didn’t hurt anyone and it gave the stewards something to do when the ripped remnants fluttered down to the pitch side.

As I say, I wasn’t there; I’d imagine if I had been I’d have found this conduct partly amusing and partly irritating. Let’s have some perspective here; this wasn’t a recreation of the 1990 play off a generation later, it was a bunch of daft teenagers sticking their tongue out to Ashley and Llambias; it reminds me of an unruly Year 10 class cheeking a supply teacher on a Friday afternoon. Unfortunately, things didn’t end at that point; whipped up by this minor result and feeling the flush of nascent masculinity in their loins, these pustular stormy petrels raced down to Eldon Square and attempted to break the windows of Sports Direct. They failed in this, but the very act was enough to afford a Northumbria Police spokesperson time on the local news the next day to speak in sombre and shallow tones about wanton vandalism, lawlessness and the destruction of private property, as well as providing another stick for the on-line and print enemies of Newcastle United with a stick to beat the support with. Meanwhile Twitter became the Monday Club in 140 characters as more and more Newcastle fans condemned this lot in increasingly intemperate tones that fought marginally shy of reintroducing National Service, while a dogged minority vainly and increasingly unconvincingly argued that this evening marked the start of a spontaneous popular uprising against the Ashley regime.

Here’s a controversial thought; what if the events of March 8^th 2012 were neither of those things? What if they were just an example of a frustrated section of our support incorrectly channelling their righteous indignation against the particularly galling issue of the supposed renaming of the ground at the end of an emotionally charged week that had seen their club twice face bitter local rivals in games where late equalisers had lifted the roof off the home ends? Undoubtedly these youngsters are angry, marginalised and frustrated by the conduct of the club “owners” and wanted to vent their feelings; sadly it came out not in a constructive way but as a folie de plusiers at the main entrance to a cheap and tawdry discount sports outfitter. However, in the continued absence of any truly effective, large scale fans’ organisation, following the virtual disintegration of NUST and despite the sterling, tireless efforts of Utd4NUFC, whose work seems to attract the scorn and approbation of self-appointed keyboard cultural gauleiters, generally on the basis that these analysts of the predominant Tyneside Weltanschauung don’t approve of anything they didn’t think of first, the frustrations of sections of our support will manifest themselves in minor acts of destructive behaviour that are doomed to fail and will be seized on by those whose agenda it is to discredit sections of the support as incontrovertible evidence of the uncivilised and unruly nature of the club and the support, no doubt removing the regional magnifying glass from the barbarians on Wearside.

No doubt the events of last Thursday evening will eventually see banning orders and police cautions for those involved, as a predictably disproportionate response to youthful exuberance rather than any premeditated criminality. Consequently, it is beholden on those of us who see the ownership of the club by the fans as the only convincing way to stop Newcastle United being used as a vehicle for profiteering or self-aggrandisement (especially in view of the supposedly wonderful end of year accounts that butter no parsnips for the supporters, but show Ashley’s protection of his own financial interests becoming ever more central to the future viability and success of Newcastle United) to offer conditional support to those targeted by forces of repression, with the idea of growing the movement in favour of fan ownership by including these fans in our midst; the ideal will be the organisation of a disorganised but passionate subset of support among the corpus of Utd4NUFC. To condemn, to dismiss or to ignore these youthful fans is to miss a cast-iron opportunity to expand and develop the fans’ movement at our club, as they are the future. As Malcolm X observed in 1963 after the Reverend James Bevell led a march of High School students through Birmingham, Alabama, only to be met by firehoses and ferocious police dogs; "Real men don't put their children on the firing line.”  Let us learn from Thursday March 8^th; it should mark the date when despair ended and tactics began.

Clearly tactics were lacking in the last moments of injury time at the Emirates on Monday. While Danny Simpson is no doubt aware he made a poor decision with that final throw in, the abuse he received on Twitter was disproportionate and completely unnecessary; as unnecessary as Tim Krul’s artless tantrum to Van Persie it has to be said. Let’s try and get some perspective on this game; while it is galling to lose in the final seconds, we’ve done that before and we’ll do it again. I doubt anyone could make a convincing case that we deserved anything out of the game as both Van Persie and Gervinho ought to have put the game beyond us in the second half. However, looking at the positives, we’re still in 6^th place with 10 games to go. While we must beat Norwich and avoid defeat at West Brom as a minimum requirement, if the season is not risk dribbling out in to dispiriting mediocrity, this is not the time to point fingers at individuals in the team; it is time to stand united. Let’s get behind the players and off their backs; support the club and support the fans that care.

The Fourth Enforced Exhalation

We had a great afternoon at Purvis Park on Saturday as Shankhouse were defeated 3-1, allowing us to complete our second double of the season. Sadly Geoff's printer was on the blink so there weren't any programmes, so the following articles didn't get published. Here they are now instead -:

Good afternoon everyone and welcome to Purvis Park for this afternoon’s Pin Point Recruitment Northern Alliance Premier Division game against Shankhouse. I’d like to extend a special welcome to all the players, supporters and officials associated with our visitors today. I trust they will enjoy their short stay with us.

Last week we defeated today’s opponents 2-1 at their Northburn ground in Cramlington. However the result was overshadowed by the most tremendous piece of sportsmanship it has been my privilege to see, not just in the time I’ve followed Percy Main, but in my 39 years of following football. After 19 minutes of last week’s game the Main’s Lindsay Collinson was knocked out cold following a penalty box collision with Jevan Jull. In the absence of a whistle, Shankhouse played on, quite properly, and took the lead. However, when the extent of Lindsay’s injury became clear, Shankhouse sportingly allowed Kevin Westphal to run unchallenged from the halfway line to score an immediate equaliser. Well, immediate in game play; it was nigh on three quarters of an hour in actual time. I must pay tribute to the Shankhouse team for allowing that to happen.

Soon after Kevin put us ahead and, after 21 minutes, we were all wondering if it was to be a repeat of last season’s incredible 6-4 win for the Main. In the end, it proved to be the end of the scoring. No doubt the close proximity of the game will mean that the two sides will have a pretty good idea of each other’s style of play, so let’s hope for an entertaining and open game. Last season Percy Main squeaked home by a margin of 2-1 in a midweek game played in late April, with both Villagers goals being scored by combative striker Jonathon McEnaney.

After today, the Main are off on our travels again, with next Saturday presenting a tough St. Patrick’s Day challenge in the shape of a trip to title challengers Heaton Stannington, who seem to have the Indian sign over us, having completed 4 straight wins since our promotion in 2010. The week after sees us making the trip to Hirst Welfare for a game against Ashington Colliers, before we welcome our old mates from Stocksfield on March 31^st. All Saturday games are now 2.30 kick offs.

Off the pitch, our old Web Teams website appears to have disappeared in to the ether, so all our cyber activity can be found at www.percymainafc.co.uk  with the site being added to and developed all the time. Peter Bainbridge is doing a sterling job by uploading videos of Pierre Luc Coiffait practising his gargantuan throws, while Geoff is publishing Tim Grimshaw’s action shots of the game quicker than The Pink used to hit the streets! 

The website also gives details of the NEW Percy Main Bingo Lottery, which is being overseen by Geoff. It’s very easy to get involved; just pick 6 numbers between 1 and 49, then choose how many weeks you wish to participate, cost of £1 per week for each set of 6 numbers, then see Geoff to pay your stake and get a lottery ticket in return, or email him at geoff@cinix.co.uk 

Please consider joining and do enjoy the game today! 

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While our fixture at Northburn was action packed last weekend, with the added bonus of Division 2’s bottom side Cramlington United losing 1-5 to 11^th placed Alnwick Town Reserves (the only goal I saw was Cramlington’s, so don’t ask for a match report) on the adjoining pitch, the place to be for cup action was Newcastle University’s Coach Lane pitches, with both Northumberland FA Minor Cup semi-finals taking place concurrently.  The final will be between Wallington, who overcame the University by a single goal, and a Chemfica side that were able to hold their nerve in a penalty shoot-out against this season’s surprise cup package Willington Quay Saints. Chemfica prevailed 4-2 after a 3-3 draw after extra time.

The Alliance Premier Division saw half a dozen fixtures, with Carlisle City returning to the summit after a 1-0 win over fourth placed Killingworth at the Sheepmount, overhauling Heaton Stannington who slipped to a 4-2 home loss to a Hebburn Reyrolle side that move up to third. Whitley Bay A claimed 5^th spot ahead of the inactive Harraby Catholic Club, by winning 2-1 away to Seaton Delaval Amateurs, who lie a place and a point ahead of us in 10^th, but with the small matter of 5 games in hand. In the final game, Blyth Town, who are 9^th, ended their recent poor run of form by winning their local derby 3-0 over 8^th placed Ashington Colliers.

In Division 1, the solitary fixture saw Cramlington Town move up to 6^th after a single goal victory over second bottom Morpeth Sporting Club. Meanwhile the First Division Subsidiary Cup, whereby 10 teams (with the exception of Cramlington Town who opted not to participate) are split in to 2 groups of 5 teams, got underway with Amble United winning 2-0 away to Cullercoats in Group A and Forest Hall and Gosforth Bohemians playing out a stalemate in Group B.

Division 2 saw leaders Red House Farm surprisingly held 2-2 by 12^th placed North Shields Athletic. It was 2-2 when second met third as Hexham and Wallsend Boys Club shared the spoils. Fourth placed Harton & Westoe could not benefit from this, as it remained scoreless in Carlisle against fifth top Northbank. Bedlington Terriers Reserves are 7^th after thumping second bottom Swalwell 4-0, while 8^th top Whickham Lang Jacks did their goal difference a power of good by cuffing sixth placed Wideopen 7-0. Finally, in the 9^th v 10^th clash, New Fordley and Alston shared the spoils in a 2-2 draw.

In the Northern League, praise must go to Dunston UTS, 4-3 winners at Peterborough Northern Star and West Auckland Town, who won 2-0 away to Bournemouth; both teams are now in the FA Vase Semi Final. In Division 1, Whitley Bay’s troubled times continued when Spennymoor United came to Hillheads and won by the only goal, while Newcastle Benfield, who are learning to live without talismanic striker Michael Chilton, had a good win 2-1 over Shildon. In Division 2, Team Northumbria moved 14 points clear at the top, with a resounding 4-0 win away to Washington. West Allotment Celtic are only 2 points from a promotion spot after beating Chester Le Street 3-1, while North Shields dropped to 8^th, after they were held at home 2-2 by Birtley Town.

Gateshead’s hopes of a return to the Football League seem to be over, as a 3-2 home loss to Ebbsfleet saw them drop down to 10^th place in the table. Good news for Blyth Spartans though; Tommy Cassidy’s side registered their first away win for 6 months, with a 2-0 success in North Wales against Colwyn Bay. Well done to them; where there’s life, there’s hope!

Barbarians at the Gate

I wasn’t at the 146^th Tyne Wear derby. Indeed, if it had not been for a sequence of complex events that began with the euthanizing of Francisco Jimenez Tejada (aka Ronan the dog), I wouldn’t even have been on Tyneside that particular weekend. I should have been at Aberdeen v Celtic and then Arbroath v East Fife with Andy, Michael and Shaun. Texts and Tweets told of a pair of blinding games, 1-1 and 2-2 respectively, with an uproarious real ale session in Dundee on the Saturday night; it seemed like I’d missed out on all the fun.

In the event, staying home was quite pleasant, on the Saturday at least; Winstons beat Hartlepool Camerons 3-1 and I won the domino card for the first time ever, then Percy Main came from behind to defeat Shankhouse 2-1. Come Sunday, I was awake early with all the usual stresses, fears and worries that accompany a game I’ve always felt was the sporting equivalent of an exam you’d not revised for.

Of course I didn’t watch it; I couldn’t. Too nervous you see. I know that’s a pathetic admission from someone who is almost 48, but unlike Seamus Heaney and the Bloody Sunday funerals (see last week’s blog for more details), I can admit to my sin of omission, or cowardice if you prefer. Instead, I followed the first half on Twitter at home, nervously pacing the kitchen, hallway and lounge, regularly checking the lap top for updates. Bendtner’s penalty and the ill-luck of Coloccini and Ba in trying to equalise made up my mind how I’d cope with the second period; I decided to cycle to Tynemouth.

It was a lousy day; freezing cold and sleeting as I left Heaton, though that turned to driving rain and a punishing gale from off the North Sea the closer I got to the Coast. My shoes were sodden before I’d crossed Station Road in Wallsend. Every mile or so, my curiosity defeated my need for cover and self preservation; I stopped regularly to check Twitter and the BBC website on my phone. Time crawled as I read of Sessegnon’s red card, of incessant black and white pressure, of 19 wasted corners and, depressingly as I passed The Spring Gardens in North Shields, of Ba’s missed penalty. In my usual fit of self doubt and fear that surrounds the game, I’d predicted a 0-1 score line; how guilty and glum I’d felt for seemingly inviting such ill luck. Then, it changed.

A hundred yards ahead of The Spring Gardens are a trio of other pubs; The Albion (Top House), The Old Hundred and The Oddfellows (The Little Bar). Stopped at traffic lights at a deserted junction, depression cloaking my mood, I observed an incredible sight. Literally hundreds of shrieking, hysterical, joyful punters burst through the doors of each of these bars; embracing each other, punching the air, profaning loudly. I noticed that not one of them was attired in a mackem top; those that wore colours (and it wasn’t many as we’re talking proper hard lad Shields here) were in black and white. Then the singing, to the tune of the Hokey Cokey began.

Getting off the road, I propped the bike up against The Oddfellows and watched the dying embers of the game. Despairing of discerning anything through breath frosted glass, I stepped indoors. On October 31^st 2010, again too fearful to attend or watch the game, I’d followed the demolition derby on my phone, finally deigning to enter licensed premises once we’d established a reasonable 5-0 lead. Back then, the first action I saw was Darren Bent scoring for them; this time I saw Mike Williamson spurning the chance to gain legendary status by stabbing a presentable chance wide as the game ended in a draw.

Suddenly, I was alone; the bar disgorged its entire clientele who were soon sparking up on the pavement outside. Exiting, I rescued a pushbike I’d expected to be nicotine stained and coughing, then began my task of finding out the real story behind the game on the modern sporting battleground; the internet. Preludial phone calls were made to Dublin and Vitoria-Gasteiz to see how the game had been viewed by those of a black and white persuasion in The Ha’Penny Bridge and Café Viena respectively. The story I was hearing was of a game that belonged to them for 40 minutes, but could and should have replicated last season’s 5-1 demolition, alongside crass mackem thuggery and an appalling lack of class on the pitch, which I subsequently learned from eyewitness accounts was replicated and redoubled by a seething, brutal band of brigands on the terraces, aboard public transport (predictably enough) and in the streets.

From all I’ve read and heard in the aftermath of this game, I can only conclude that in the near future, a Tyne Wear derby will be marked by the death of a fan. Undoubtedly this fan will be one of ours, perhaps a solitary teenager at a bus stop or a middle-aged family man looking for his car, but he’ll be a black and whiter who will fall under a flurry of boots and fists, or a single stab by a bladed up sewer rat. I don’t want to sound alarmist, but the fact is, the mackems hate Newcastle United with such fury they will kill one or more of us to demonstrate that fact. The victim who dies will join Bobby Robson and Gary Speed in the litany of sick songs that are spread on sunderland message boards in preparation for games against us.

Perhaps one of the biggest benefits of not going to the game was that I could watch the re-run of it with dispassionate, disinterested eyes. Having done so, all I could conclude is that sunderland, both players and supporters, are completely out of control and that this mass, snarling hysteria is fed and nurtured by the highest echelons of the club.

Examine the conduct of both sets of fans; on Sunday, Shola Ameobi’s 90^th minute equaliser was met with joyous scenes in the ground as well as Nile Street in Shields. However, not one person encroached upon the field of play; compare this with the Mackem reactions to Gyan’s equaliser last season when Steve Harper was assaulted or in October 2008, when Kieran Richardson’s goal was greeted with a mass pitch invasion and Shay Given being assaulted. Admittedly Alan Pardew did go slightly over the top with his celebrations, but at least he had the grace to apologise; unlike O’Neill who didn’t have the grace to accept the traditional post match glass of wine, artlessly preferring to get straight on the coach back to his Wearside midden, presumably to concentrate on his fictional narrative for Tuesday’s BBC Radio Newcastle interview.

While there has been trouble in the past, in recent years Newcastle fans have travelled to Wearside, by Metro, train, bus or car and caused not a scrap of bother. On Sunday, the Mackems followed up their destruction of a train carriage en route to their cup replay in Smogland by trashing a Metro. This wasn’t a regular Metro, but a special one that went non-stop Park Lane to Central to allow them to get to the game. En route to the game, the windows of The Forth were put in; presumably in the belief that it is still 1983 and the NME were supping inside, rather than because it is an effete gastro pub, with a similarly effete post 92 clientele, even if the prix fixe menu is of an extraordinarily good standard.

In the ground several seats were smashed, two stewards were assaulted (a female punched in the face and a male pushed down a flight of stairs) and the toilets were wrecked, as well as having excrement smeared around them, presumably as some kind of Dirty Protest tribute to Niall Quinn, the Drumaville Pavees and their current manager, of whom more later.

However, such cretinous behaviour is perhaps to be expected as their club glorifies boorishness and encourages bellicose posturing. The famed free taxis home paid for by Niall Quinn for the sizeable number of their fans who were drunkenly out of control in Bristol airport in 2007, planted the seed in their minds that anti social behaviour will not only be tolerated by the club hierarchy, but rewarded.

The only reason Newcastle did not hand out another severe thrashing to the unwashed is that in the first half, Pardew’s team allowed themselves to be dragged down to the mackems’ level and engaged in a hideous kicking contest. The tone was set by Cattermole’s premeditated attack on Tiote after 40 seconds; having reputedly told Tiote in the tunnel that he’d “do” him, the man who wears the captain’s armband  for sunderland deliberately scythed down Tiote in an assault intended to injure the Ivorian. Cattermole ought to have walked then. I remember Gordon Armstrong doing the same thing on Paul Bracewell in April 1993’s game that was decided by Scott Sellars’s free kick. Back then, Keegan’s team laughed it off and got on with the business of winning; sadly this was not the outcome in this instance.

Newcastle’s disappointing adoption of strongarm tactics saw 4 rapid bookings, even if Simpson was rightly furious following McClean’s vile lunge on him. McClean is a nasty piece of work; precociously talented he may be, though those of us with long memories remember Kieran Brady’s supernova career. When the FA examine this incident in detail, having charged both teams with failing to control their players, I’d imagine McClean’s conduct will be rightly excoriated.

The predictable conclusion to this passage of ale house clogging by the Magpies was the nonsensical penalty conceded by Williamson for a tug on Turner, which was celebrated in a deliberately provocative way by Frazier Campbell, intended to enrage Newcastle fans and no doubt the cause of an imminent FA charge for incitement. Following this goal, a brief period of phoney war almost saw the Mackems go 2-0 ahead, but Krul made an excellent save from Bendtner and with that the Mackems retreated to their own 18 yard line for the remainder of the game. Despite being deservedly behind, the previously mentioned efforts from Ba and Coloccini could have seen Newcastle ahead at the break.

In the second period, especially after Sessegnon’s forearm smash on Tiote, who was himself booked for the only significant foul committed by a Newcastle player after the resumption, Newcastle were a joy to watch. Hatem Ben Arfa was Man of the Match by a street and showed exactly what Newcastle fans love to see; football artistry, poetry with the feet. We are the fans who idolise not only our number 9s, but the glorious ball players who’ve graced the Gallowgate turf; Beardsley, Tony Green, Len White, Bobby Mitchell, Hughie Gallagher, Colin Veitch and Pat Heard to name but a few. In contrast on Wearside, brutish, cowardly hatchet men like Joe Bolton, Charlie Hurley, John Kay, Kevin Ball and now Lee Cattermole are lauded.

Off the top of my head I can recall Gary Bennett, Howard Gayle, Paul Hardyman, Titus Bramble, Phil Bardsley, Sessegnon and Cattermole being dismissed from the field of play in derby games; not one of those names belongs to a Newcastle player. The meaning of that is self-evident; sunderland cannot control their players in these games. This season alone Bardsley was sent off for a stamp, Sessegnon for an elbow and Cattermole for an unprovoked foul-mouthed tirade against a referee who’d done his level best amidst the mayhem, even if he missed at least 3 other penalties we should have had.

Laughably Cattermole’s conduct was excused by O’Neill in a post match interview where, summoning up all the traditional Celtic paranoia from his stint in Glasgow , he felt there were “mitigating circumstances.” According to O’Neill, there had been a Newcastle United presence in the referee’s room at half time. John Carver at this point interjected and pointed out, in no uncertain terms, that O’Neill was a liar. Obviously as far as the unwashed goes, if a lie is put out in to the real world, especially if it appears on the internet (the real source of the bile, vitriol and invective that disfigures the game), it becomes a fact; perhaps being caught out was the reason why O’Neill flounced out of Tyneside, preferring instead to make a cowardly interview with local radio on the Tuesday, replete with lies and innuendo.

If you want to see real class and the conduct of perfect gentlemen, seek out the ESPN post-match interview with Shola and Demba Ba. Articulate, incisive, humble and intelligent; these men are a credit to our club and the polar opposite of the scowling, snarling, spitting vermin from down the road.

As a minimum, the FA need to charge sunderland with failing to control their players, while both Campbell and McClean, for his comments on Twitter, should be brought to book. However, this will not be enough; when a sunderland message board contains death threats against Pardew, things really need to stop. Back in 1996, the ban on away fans at derby games allowed for the formation of Wear Fans United to protest against the decision; 16 years on I can see no possible hope of a similar organisation being formed to calm the situation down. However, it has to be said this is not necessary on one side of the divide.

At Newcastle United, we fans police ourselves; we love the club and we respect our history and traditions. The same cannot be said of our local rivals; unless sunderland fans come to their senses and gain a sense of proportion about what is after all only a game of football, people will die on derby day. Those on Wearside must accept that this is where their conduct has them headed; they need a reality check before it is too late.

Remember, it really is only 22 blokes kicking a pig’s bladder around, or 21 blokes if sunderland are playing.