Wednesday 13 July 2011

Northern Leagues United:

In a matter of days, I’ll be turning 47. At my age it’s fair to say I no longer have the kind of crazy weekends that I’ll remember forever; except I did on the 9th and 10th of July 2011. Scrolling backwards from the end of the two glorious days, I recall sipping quality draught Bass in the beer garden of the Tynemouth Lodge Hotel, recovering my strength after pogoing the afternoon away in the rarefied climes of the Priory as The Buzzcocks played a killer set to close the Mouth of the Tyne Festival. Tickets cost the amazing price of £2.50, which was less than when I’d seen them in October 1978 at the City Hall, so I’d like to thank North Tyneside Council Tax payers for subsidising one of the best afternoons I’ve had in a long time. While Martin Stephenson and Neville Staple on the undercard were fine, there really isn’t anything that comes close to slam dancing with your 16 year old son to “What Do I Get?”


While I’d been an enormous fan of The Buzzcocks back in the day, I hadn’t felt their music had aged particularly well; indeed, the more famous numbers such as “Ever Fallen In Love” seemed a little shallow and one-dimensional compared to the breathtaking “Spiral Scratch” debut EP that really did change my life when I first heard it. Thankfully, both “Boredom” and “Breakdown” were given an airing, as was the classic lost gem B side “Why Can’t I Touch It?” I’d have liked “Something’s Gone Wrong Again” or “I Believe,” but it wasn’t to be, though “Orgasm Addict” was a hell of a closing encore. Three days later and I still haven’t got my voice back from shouting along.

Bearing in mind the oft repeated mantra of my mate David that “music never lets you down, football always does,” I must take issue with him in this instance as I feel that however great Sunday’s gig was, Saturday’s Northern Leagues United day at Birtley Town provided me with a sense of wellbeing that is difficult to put in to words and almost impossible to quantify. Suffice to say, as is always the case in the North East, everything good about local football has nothing at all to do with professionalism or the Premier League. The grassroots is where the game retains dignity, class and honour; all three of these concepts were in evidence on a glorious Saturday afternoon, that thankfully avoided the biblical hailstone storm that came in the early evening, but sadly failed to see Scouting For Girls struck by lightning at Tynemouth Priory.

Many words of praise have been written about the Hudson brothers who organised Northern Leagues United; none of those words do justice to the work the lads put in, both last season for Northern League Day, which raised the profile and spirits of the Northern League in general and Ryton in particular, motivating them to actually win a home game against Billingham Synners and for the July 9th event. While Ryton was for a good cause, the day at Birtley was for an impeccable one; that of raising money for Cobaltore Onagawa. If you need to know more about this Japanese team and their heroic efforts after the devastating Tsunami of March 11th, please go to this link http://northernleagueday.wordpress.com/2011/03/27/whats-the-point-of-a-football-club/

Fair play to the Hudson lads for constantly keeping this purpose clearly in focus throughout; this was about far more than a daft kickaround and a few beers on a sunny afternoon. It was about reminding ourselves of the moral obligations of the worldwide community of football fans and the ability of the global game to do good, even at a micro level. Whatever was raised was about more than just money, it was about duty and responsibility. There were only a couple of exceptions to this playing in this game; some people just can’t get it in to their funny shaped heads that their egos should be sublimated to the common good.

Personally I’d been nervous about playing; at my age the end of every season leaves one with nagging doubts about whether it is time to give up on the 11 a side game to see the war out in Switzerland on the 6 a side court. The last thing you want to do is make a total clown of yourself in front of 300 people. However, despite not knowing the names of three quarters of my team mates, and being aware that the other keeper who would play the second half was a 19 year old former Derby County youth player currently turning out in a Step 7 league while I scuffed around in Division 4 of the North East Over 40s League, I got the gloves on and did my bit.

Three minutes in, their striker tries to bend one in to the top corner; it’s a clean strike, butI catch it easily. Five minutes later, a former fanzine editor tries to go round me, but I get down low and flick the ball away with my glove, so he can’t get his shot in. I’m starting to relax, catching crosses cleanly and scooping up loose balls in the area. Indeed, at the midpoint of the half, I’m enjoying it, even if it seems like we’re dealing with waves of relentless pressure by the fans’ team. Then, they bring on a couple of substitutes; Two Pauls, Robinson and Chow. The latter took 21 seconds to open his account in the 2010 FA Vase final, but we held him up a bit longer than that.

Admittedly, he set up Paul Robinson with the opening goal after 24 minutes. Chow came down the left and cut inside; I went to near post, narrowing the angle, but he chipped up a perfect cross for an on-rushing Robbo to nod home at the back post. Seconds later we equalise with a long-range shot; get in! Game on! A minute later, they get a corner and I don’t even see Chow’s movement as he rushes to head home, much less stand a chance of saving the goal. We don’t give up and someone else I don’t know scores a delightful chip. In to injury time and we’re level, but Chow isn’t finished, as he comes through the left and I go out to try and take the ball from him. Not a chance! He’s round me and slots home, without time for a restart. My last act is to take the ball out the net.

I take my leave of the game at the interval and watch a spirited, even contest that the Fans deservedly win 6-3. The score is meaningless; the game is what matters. The post match presentations show most of us what an honour it was to be involved. Trying to get a shower immediately post match is impossible, with the changing room having more of a crowd than most Northern League games tend to get. Eventually, suffering the kind of stiffness Ben Dover utilises in his films, I get to use my Lynx gel. Scoured and pomaded, I come out the changers at the same time as the Bay superstars and they confirm to me what I’d long suspected; Paul Chow will always remember the day he scored past Ian Cusack.

Outside in the sun, I commence drinking Koppaberg and chat to a couple of dozen good people, as Birtley beat Ryton 2-1 with each goal being a smart finish. Falling asleep in the car home, I reflect on what a great day it was. Most of all, a great cause was supported. It was well worth enduring agonising cramp in my left calf for.