Saturday, 21 February 2015

21st February....why did we bother?

Newton Aycliffe.

I really don't know where to start with this one. I set off from feeling so optimistic, having full confidence that the team would move on from their superb performance against Blyth to win against fourth from bottom Newton Aycliffe. I actually felt like the Readybrek kid with a warm glow around myself as I thought of the prospect of at last seeing the Bay play well and win. The sun even seemed to be shining...all was well with the world.
There were the happy pairing of Melanie and Fred, who every week welcome me to the ground, selling their raffle tickets and programmes. If I am one of the first to buy a programme, I am rewarded with a photocopied team sheet. What more could you ask for? Also there was Barrie in his programme shop? Whitley programmes dating back to the Jurassic era when programmes were written on slates using tyrannosaurus teeth? Barrie's got them there...somewhere.
Barrie meets the Turtles...but who is more famous?
There was more excitement to add to the bonheur surrounding the ground: the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle had come to watch the Bay! Desperate to meet his heroes Barrie raced over to get in a picture with them. It was going to be a good day to be a Bay fan...


There was more excitement as my two bearded buddies arrived: Small Paul and Paddy Galore. Escaping from family responsibilities was what keeps some of us supporting the Bay during the dark times, along with all the loyalty and devotion stuff. These two are fine followers of this religion. Unfortunately, as the game progressed, their decision to abandon their loved ones looked to have backfired again as Newton Aycliffe's number 8, Martin Young  blasted in two long range screamers within what seemed like the first twenty minutes. Just like the Billingham Game, Whitley hadn't really looked like scoring before they were behind. Once again the game drifted along and interest wavered. Paddy took to translating the Bay logo "Ludus est Omnis" using all the skills gleaned from his C in GCSE Latin, translating it as "Play is everything". I must admit I hadn't thought of it all these years so felt enlightened by this discussion and a bit ashamed. Unfortunately they then carried on discussing whether Italian footballers should wear Roman numerals on their backs instead of numbers...that is where they lost me.
My attention turned to the group of visiting fans to our left: three ladies, one obviously a mother and another a grandmother while the third sat on the floor - a young girl who began waving frantically at one of the visiting players without attracting his attention. The thing about this girl was that under her arm was a tiny dog wrapped in a blanket. Snow began to fall and the ladies beat a retreat to the safety of the bar (I assumed) and the next thing I saw was a similar looking dog under a young man's arm. Had I missed the "Bring Your Dog to the Match" memo? This train of thought was interrupted by Aycliffe's third goal after Whitley had once again failed to clear a ball on the edge of their penalty box.
Here's comes the snow...where is the lady with the dog?

 The other highlight from the game was Barrie sprinting past informing everyone that the first two goals were offside...wishful thinking I thought from the programmed one since all their goals had been from just inside their own half (sort of). 
Half time arrived and the highlight of the game was the penalty shootout that the Turtles had asked to hold...it certainly had sunk to that level that a bunch of lads visiting Tyneside for a 30th birthday could overshadow the skill...or lack of it from the home side...on the pitch either side of half time.




Thanks for entertaining us lads...

The second half looked to be a great improvement on the first as Chow was introduced and was winning headers, setting up attacks. Even Robbie B and MacFarlane seemed to be on the same wavelength and were finally passing to each other but Watling still didn't seem happy with the constant stream of aerial balls. Finally Birdie picked up a clearance on the edge of the penalty box and drilled home to give us hope. A 3-3 draw looked on the cards until a clearance in the home penalty box ended up being drilled past McCafferty who hadn't looked as confident as he had in the previous two games. That proved to be too much for a lot of the home fans and by the time the final whistle blew there were very few fans still in the ground.
I left, depressed and frustrated. The style of play Paddy had brought with him certainly wasn't gaining many fans. The crowd of 270 odd for a home Saturday game, when Newcastle were playing half an hour after the final whistle, was a really depressing sight. Ever since the last win at Wembley this club has been steadily dropping down the league and now we are struggling to beat anyone. The long ball out of defence was supposed to be going to get results but we are now three games into the new regime's reign and yet it is the worst. The football is unattractive and the team seem to lack shape. When will the sun rise again for Whitley fans? Next week we are away to Durham City...what will Chan think of the team that has replaced his all conquering Vase teams of 2009-11? Dread to think but I hope I am proved wrong. 

Wednesday, 18 February 2015

February 17th 2015 Blyth Spartans (a)

Trepidation was the word to describe my feeling as I set off to pick up new member of the crew (who I have decided to call Neily New (I know it's lame but until he comes up with a better nickname it stays...the challenge has been thrown down, mate). With the last Whitley Bay victory over a month and a half ago added to the fact that eleven goals had been conceded for a solitary reply and that tonight's Northumberland Senior Cup Semi final was against a team from a couple of leagues above us...a hammering seemed the only outcome.
For driving Neil to the game he very kindly insisted on paying me in, which was cost him the princely sum of five of your English pounds. There was also the shock of being asked the equally royal sum of two English pounds for their programme, however, and this is no slur on the Whitley programme which is probably produced on a shoestring budget and I always enjoy buying from our lovely programme sellers, it had shiny paper throughout and a number of articles from fans, colour photos and also...most importantly a fixtures double page that told you who played in which game and how many goals they scored etc...like we used to have. Suppose that is what you expect in Evostick Premierland but it was nice: the difference between leagues..even though their attendances are not all together different: last Blyth game attracted 346 with 503 for a Saturday game. With the Bay in the doldrums, yep we are, most definitely, our last crowd was 242 and that is a bad one for us. There isn't that much difference between the two clubs (obviously we are better normally - they just happen to be higher up than us!)
 Just like Whitley there was a photocopy of the team sheet that was donated for photographic purposes by Doug from the club shop as he wandered around the ground. I still had to refer to it on numerous occasions to answer the question:
"Who he....?"
Neil and I stood in the large terraced shed-like stand opposite the main stand and there seemed to be a distinct lack of away supporters there, probably preferring to stay at home and watch the equally dislikeable Paris St Germain and Chelsea in the Champo League.
1-0 to the mighty Bay!
After an initial (although expected) shock of Blyth almost scoring there was an even bigger shock as Watling managed to slip the ball through to Birdie: a Blyth defender deciding that it was hardly worth bothering to stop him. Robbie then produced a sublime chip that flew over the Blyth keeper and nestled delightfully in the Blyth net. If anyone had any doubts that Neil and I were supporting the Bay our cheers ended them. In fact it downright annoyed the young ginger Blyth fan to our left who was disgusted we were allowed to stand near him. "They should be over there...not here!" he told his dad who replied by telling him to shut up. He then spent the rest of the half complaining to his dad every time, on rare occasions, he heard us using inappropriate or colourful language. I did feel remorse and decided that I must remember not to say the words "damn, blast, bloody or even Norah"at the match. Luckily his stomach took hold after a while so he bombarded his poor dad with requests for hot chocolate, chips, hot dogs instead....
The studious Neil....
but where's the ball?
The Bay players impressed Neil so much that he commented that they had "obviously had their Weetabix that morning". In fact there was concern for Blyth's number 2 as he succumbed to the sheer brute force that is the man mountain Alex Kempster. He came away from one altercation with a bloody nose and wobbling head.
Our young friend however let himself down when Kempster went down by shouting "Get up you pussy" then spent the next few minutes as Alex limped about making miaowing noises and calling him "Kitty Cat".
As the half time approached Blyth besieged the away goal but their shooting was extremely wayward...even comical at times. There was even a chance for Watling to put us 2-0 up but his 'pace' failed him and under pressure managed only to shoot weakly. One more chance for Robbie to score but he was closed down instantly and we were delighted to still be 1-0 up.
At the beginning of the second half ex Whitley golden boy Jarrett Rivers was brought on and then proceeded to tumble at every opportunity. Surely he didn't do that for us did he? Course not.
The Whitley goal continued to live a charmed life with McAfferty proving to be a great acquisition in the Bay goal as he commanded his area. Whitley almost sealed the win when Kempster drifted in on goal before the ball ended up at Robbie's feet, who tried to find himself more space instead of hitting it first time with the goal at his mercy. This allowed Blyth to recover and the best chance of the half for Whitley had gone.
By now Robbie Dale and Rivers were showing all the tricks we had learnt to love them for at Hillheads and it was no surprise that in the 89th minute Blyth equalised. However it was extremely sickening.
In extra time Whitley managed to hold onto more of the play but Blyth were still creating the better chances. It was no surprise when Blyth's Maguire scored and then added a second. Despite the fact that Chow sidefooted wide straight after, there was no denying Blyth deserved their win, although the Bay deserved a result for their battling performance. Whisper it but Paddy's boys could be getting their act together.
One last piece of advise is that when your football match goes to extra time, don't forget to tell your wife that you will be late back....or even forget to look at your phone: otherwise you will be sleeping in the shed! Oops!





Sunday, 15 February 2015

Billingham Synthonia (h) 14th February 2015

Lost and abandoned....
supermarket trolleys
have feelings too!
Surely there would be a present for the Bay fans tonight after three postponed games. With six new faces in the starting line-up and more waiting to come in there was the sense that Paddy had had his own spree at the non-league supermarket, which seemed prophetic as I walked past the back of Marden Bridge Middle school and found an abandoned shopping trolley. Going for my good deed of the day I decided to take it back to its home in Morrisons car park with his friends: surely this act of selfless community spirit that would be rewarded on the footie field!
Who he....?
And he.....? He.....?
The start of the game was more solid than spectacular and both teams seemed to be happy to kick lumps out of each under the watchful eyes of our least-favourite referee Mr Keogh from Blyth. Having said that there wasn't anything controversial from the white-haired one...in fact there wasn't anything to speak of. A dull, but very physical confrontation had occasional moments as Whitley tended to do most of the pressing. Stanger and Williamson looked to have settled in well however it was obvious that Birdie and MacFarland were still managing to ignore each other on the pitch, refusing to pass to each other, preferring to take on three or four players and lose the ball. The sooner someone knocks their heads together, metaphorically, the better. They both have to be the most skilful players on the team and if they could play together then what a devastating right hand side we would have. Today was not to be that day as they barely seemed to know the other existed.
The game continued to be a aerial battle with the ball being lumped backwards and forwards and our concentration wavered slightly as Bob went on about how much he had enjoyed Shields' FA vase victory the previous weekend. Whenever Bob goes on like this The Boy Mark and I tend to switch off from the legend that is the man that is our friend Bob. All we tend to hear is "North Shields, blah blah, blah...." as our ears tend to turn off to his praise of our nearest and dearest. I'm sorry to say this about such a knowledgeable friend but it is all a bit too hard to take at the moment. In fact my first ever football match was North Shields FA Cup tie in the early 1980s against Wallsall: a 3-0 defeat. All I remember was the riot that accompanied and being disappointed when, as a naive 12-year-old, I had found a great spot, with acres of space, to watch the game on the Appleby Park 'Kop' only to be dragged away by my mate seconds before Wallsall and Shields fans charged at each other, swamping 'my space' in the process. I would occasionally visit Appleby Park when I wasn't watching that lot in the big toon yet when I moved to Whitley Bay in 1996 that became part of my past. I wish them well in the FA Vase but wouldn't go to watch them unless the Bay were playing. They were devastating at Hillheads and I would always applaud good play, from either side but that is where it stops. Whitley are my home town more than the big toon team ever were and as a result I have that special connection that can't be replaced...no matter how bad we play.
Smoke engulfing the ground from someone's bonfire in the allotments behind the Billingham goal stopped Bob in his tracks and I wondered whether it was an attempt by some over-zealous fan to generate a continental-style atmosphere. However when its noxious fumes forced everyone into coughing fits, decided that it was the debris of winter burning that was making us smart. The first half had got that bad!
 Our attention then turned to the ever-wandering Barry's protracted discussions about buying a Blue Star badge from the bloke standing in front of us which we had hoped to be something more interesting. When Bob turned his attention back to the Bay our ears pricked up as he told us about all the clubs sniffing around Chris Reid (Blyth....again) and Birdie's transport problems getting from Seaham for each game...he certainly is a mine of information. By the time the conversation had turned to the bargains of working men's clubs and the great view from the upstairs bar of the Cullercoats Crescent Club out onto Cullercoats bay, the first half had ended with the scores locked at 0-0. Not a thriller but at least we were not behind.
It was good to see Tommy back in his little hut after being ill for our last visit to the ground. A welcome cup of tea and Bovril later we set to discussing why the sun had disappeared the moment Tommy and had pointed it out to us.
Unfortunately the second half was a great anti-climax as a Billingham goal seemed to knock the stuffing out of the lads. I even took to recording freekicks and corners in a vain attempt to catch a golden moment on camera....but it didn't work. Just to prove that we were not destined to win Paddy brought the strangely anonymous Kempster off to put another defender on in the form of Chris MacDonald...3-0 was not a true reflection of the play but Whitley had hardly created much.
 Apart from the top banter (you had to have been there...imho...honestly: all welcome!) there was nothing much to say about the football. Here are the excuses that we could think of:
1. So many new players take time to bed in.
2. The long lay-off has left the players rusty.
3. It will take time for Paddy's tactical genius to take hold (we only seem to have mastered the big boot at the moment. Next step is big boot to a Whitley player).
4. I didn't wear my big green coat.
Bob decided not to venture off to see the big clash with Blyth on Tuesday and The Boy will be at his brother-in-law's wedding in London so I will be looking forward to a cracking performance from the Bay. It says something when he said he was gutted to be missing the Bay game...even after that performance. A true fan and his suggestion for the blog's song of the day is genius! Cheers mate.