Sunderland U18s v Newcastle U18s
South Shields v Bridlington Town
Percy Main v Wallington
North Shields v Bishop Auckland
Sunderland v Leeds United
A middle weekend of three on-calls so staying on network again. This time it was some Wear and Tyne coverage, with a fair spread of games across the day at a variety of levels.
Checking how the trains were doing on waking and the first on-call intervention was required, because whilst all ours were fine, my one off Sowerby had departed +25 off Victoria and was therefore running non-stop to the far reaches of Yorkshire. A swift call into the control to point out to their neighbouring operator that missing out so many stops would mean it would be ten early by Halifax. One decent length shit later and I returned to find that the stops from Hebden had now been reinstated, and I was off as planned.
Into Leeds, two minutes early.
This meant a minus connection onto the Middlesbrough was made.
Which was taken through to York.
For a following Glasgow bound Cross Country.
Departing York and a kettle fest, with Flying Scotsman in steam and no doubt being prepared fro whatever mobile mass trespass it was operating today.
The East Coast Main Line was as flat and dull as ever, but there were at least clear and sunny views of its endless tediousness.
Through Durham and the historic skyline of a scaffold clad cathedral and a forest of construction cranes. This week's Runcorn.
Crossing the Tyne signalled the end of the torture.
As it was off at Newcastle.
And over to the previously conflicting attraction of the entrances to the Metro and the Centurian bar.
I was onto the former.
The reverse view of five minutes previous with the King Edward VII Bridge viewed from the Queen Elizabeth II Bridge Metro bridge. See how my photographic skills have expertly captured a support girder.
For my opening destination, I had the option of a bus up from Seaham or a walk from East Boldon. With time to spare I decided on the walk.
This started out as a now trademarked B-Road Grass Verge Walk of Shame.
Except soon there was no grass verge and it was onto the tarmac.
But then rather expectantly the tarmac also ended.
And then with me concerned that I was actually travelling through some time warp back to the 17th century, the road ended.
However, without encountering any highwaymen bearing flintlocks, I managed to find another road, which also had the most understated entrance to a Premier League training facility I've encountered.
However, vehicle access seemed positively luxurious compared to the pedestrian entrance.
This signified entry into the actual site.
It appears that a public footpath bisects the site, and the facilities were eventually sighted, who's main entrance is from another main road. Fair play to the club for not wasting any money on architecture fees, instead just re-using designs from local authority secondary school/remand centres.
I'd advise anyone operating heavy machinary to take a break before reading the following. The training complex was built in 2003 after a long running planning dispute as this was greenbelt land. Yes, that's right, Sunderland has a greenbelt. Not only that, it's a joint Sunderland/South Shields green belt. I'm now intrigued as to which of the two locations doesn't want to be part of the other one? That's like unrequited advances by contestants in Celebrity Big Brother.
Sunderland U18s 1 v Newcastle U18s 1, U18s Premier League - North Division
Newcastle = Jackie Milburn, the bloke of Byker Grove's mutton chop sideburns, Mirandinha, Josie's Giants actually being set in Manchester, not having won anything since the 1950s except for the second division and Texaco cup, bridges, questionable faith in Kevin Keegan's tactical nous and emotional stability, spending 1998 with Liverpool's 1989 forward line, fog.
One of the requirements for the planning permission was landscaping of the site and the full size pitches sit in a bowl on the far side of the site.
This also means minimal facilities, being limited to portable benches and golf buggy.
And a series of garden sheds/beach huts which were occupied by the coaching staff.
Clubs take hugely different stances on taking photos at Youth team games. The open setting of the site here meant it all seemed ok, but I was still a bit sparing. Anyway, the game got underway.
The club apparently used David Bellamy as an ecological consultant for the site. I spent most of the first half unsuccessfully trying to find out what these are and if I could eat them.
One of the teams took the lead just after half time.
The other side equalised near the end. I can't remember which was which and can't be bothered to look it up.
And indeed the game ended 1-1.
I needed to get to the main road which involved going through the main complex and a strange tunnel under the site.
This time it was an onward bus move.
The bus was heading for South Shields, who were also the hosts at my next game. However, I find the place the opposite way round to most others in the North East in that here the suburbs are quite pleasant, but the centre is an absolute shit hole, whereas elsewhere money has been spent on the centre, but the surroundings are derelict crack dens. To avoid the 1970s abyss of the centre, I exited on the outskirts.
Where it was a quick visit to 1980s Essex.
And then onto the Metro station, not to be confused with the South Coast recreation of cocoon.
It was onto my second bit of Metro action of the day.
I was entertained during the short hop trying to work out if this was an actual thing. (there is an A near the bottom left hand corner).
A couple of stations down the line and I was off at Bede.
Where the local industrial estate was buzzing for a Saturday morning.
The reason being that this is located at the far end of it.
The presence of a very shonky looking TV tower being the reason for the games midday kick off, as the BBC were televising it. Extra-preliminary round action via the red button.
South Shields 3 v Bridlington Town 1, Emirates FA Cup - Preliminary Round
South Shields has a long and proud history of forming football clubs and then moving them to Gateshead to go bust. The current set up is the third incarnation, and were formed int he 1970s after their predecessors had merged with the rump of the Gateshead club that failed re-election to the league. Initially playing in the Wearside league, they then moved up to the Northern where they had much success in the 1990s. However, by 2015 they were on their arse at the bottom of division 2 and had lost the use of their ground and were playing at Peterlee. However, new ownership of the club brought them back, and successive league titles sees them in the Northern Premier League, as well as winning the FA Vase in May.
Bridlington were formed in 1918 and played in the Driffield and District Minor League, before stepping up to the glamour of the Driffield and District League. They moved up to the Yorkshire League which became the Northen Counties East. However, involvement from future Doncaster arsonist Ken Richardson saw the club rise up to the Northern Premier and win the Vase in 1992. However, tied in with the Donny shenanigans, it all turned to shit and the club went bust. They were immediately replaced by a pub team who moved into the ground, changed the name to Bridlington Town, and have progressed up the non league pyramid, currently in the NCEL after a spell in the Northern Premier. It is worth keeping an eye on the club just for the excellent shirt sponsors, examples being East Riding Sacks, Wilkinsons Caravans, and currently, Humberside Excavations. Non-league as it should be, not your fancy 'wankfest IT solutions' which seem to be taking over everywhere else.
Filtrona Park was originally the works ground of the self-titled company who made cigarette filters. It was purchased by South Shields in 1992.
The main stand is quite deceptive in that it actually only has a few rows of seating, situated in the back tier. A small terrace and then a flat paddock area occupies most of the stand. A small cover is located alongside.
On the opposite side, three pre-fabs have emerged over the last few months.
The rest of the ground is just flat standing, with a second pitch now occupying the area behind the far goal.
With the near goal backing onto the side of a warehouse. Note the mascot copping a cheeky feel.
Pre-game and a minutes silence, whose good intentions were perhaps diluted with the introduction over the PA; 'obviously its for this Barcelona thing that's happened this week and, well, just to show our support'
I'm getting heartened that the wanky four letter J names seems to be less prevalent in the game; they probably all work in call centres now or play golf. Bridlington were doing so well until right near the very end.
South Shields recent upturn has brought with it some very large crowds, with over a thousand attracted by the midweek visit of Brighouse.
However, the absence of any raised terracing makes viewing far from ideal with that number of people. If you are actually interested in watching the game. I'm suspicious of those sorts of people.
They saw their side take the lead.
Running along the back of the main stand is the Metro, but vibrant tree growth means that the previous @nonleague_train view is more challenging.
Even where there is a gap, the black livery of the units adds to the challenge.
There was also a @nonleaguedog in club colours
The home side continued to have most of the chances.
Half time and it was chance to judge the fiercely competed banner competition.
A quick read of the programme and one of the best features I've seen in a long time; what is the worst day in the club's history? Here is a good account of an end of season game at Whitehaven, where they turned up half an hour late and even then at the rugby ground, and when the game finally did start, they were 4-0 down within six minutes. A good picture of the club mini-bus.
Bridlington equalised but Shields restored their lead.
And added a third.
The game finished 3-1.
I headed off to my next game with the home supporters celebrating their progress to the dizzy heights of the first qualifying round.
For me it was a wander through an overgrown industrial estate.
I was heading to the North bank of the Tyne. I'd done a journey search and it showed it as a 80 minute walk using the ferry, so was doing a bus move instead. Except it didn't turn up. However, there was a sign for the foot tunnel, and I thought the maps hadn't taken it into account so headed off for it, inevitably, just as the bus arrived.
This took me through Jarrow. Forget personal wealth, family or happiness, the true measure of what you have achieved in life is if your nearest shop is a Lifestyle Express. These have food of the variety and quality of 1980s communist Russia. I walked passed three in my short time in Jarrow.
The looming presence of the ventilation shaft signalled the proximity of the Tyne Tunnel.
Looking across the river, and the normally busy car park was occupied only by learner drivers.
This was because apparently the foot tunnel closed in 2013 for six months of asbestos removal. It still hasn't re-opened and there was no sign of activity. Perhaps they've got Network Rail in to manage the project.
So it was back to my original bus stop, to get the bus half an hour later.
This is one of the great scenic bus routes. The railway viaduct across the A19/A185 interchange, which gives access to Shell's Jarrow refinery, cleared on Pathfinder's 'Tyne Tees Rambler' railtour which cleared freight connections into North East chemical works. You see, going to step 11 football is at the more socially acceptable scale of my weekend activity.
Into the Tyne tunnel.
The Tyne tunnel vehicle inspection station.
And a look back across to where I'd been but thirty minutes previous. But with the added bonus of an accompanying gas holder.
All too soon my veritable post-industrial safari was over. As we landed in Percy Main.
Immediately adjacent was the intended sports ground, with the cricket club enticing.
A few moments were taken in watching visitors Ponteland amass a +200 run score.
The home sides response being a West Indianesque 92 all out.
However, through the very ornate hedge that separated the two pitches, the impending start of the football could be viewed.
So it was back out and into the football ground.
Percy Main 1 v Wallington 2, Bay Plastics Northern Football Alliance - Premier Division
Percy Main were originally formed in the 1890s but came to prominence after WW1 by returning soldiers reforming the club. They had a long spell in the Northern Amateur and then Tyneside Senior league, before moving onto the Northern Alliance in the 1960s, where they have played ever since.
Wallington are from Scotts Gap, about fifteen miles north west of Newcastle. The football club are named after a nearby country home and date back as far as 1877 when the local aristocracy donated land for sporting activity. They joined the Border League, but success came in comically named cups as first they won the football section at the 1901 Longwitton flower Show, and then the 1923 Stamfordham Nursing Cup, before joining the Coquetdale league. They moved up to the Northern Alliance in the 1950s, where they have played since.
This was a revisit. For reasons I cannot remember, one season I did all the football grounds in the European Union that the 55th parallel north passes through, and it cuts across the far penalty area of Purvis Park. Other grounds visited were in Letterkenny, Cairnryan, Gretna, then three in Denmark and one on the Polish/Lithuanian border.
Cover is limited to an extension of the clubhouse roof.
There is access to half the far touchline, the other half being too tight against the fence.
The near goal line is the extremely neat hedge which borders the cricket pitch.
This has a series of perfectly manicured archways to transfer between the two.
The far end seemed to be railed off flat standing so I made my way to it.
However, the flat standing immediately adjacent to the railings had been reclaimed by trees.
So I made my way to try and access the back of the bank, which seems to have never had the nature removed from it in the first place.
Showing the scars of having scratched my way through the undergrowth, I then thought I saw the keeper trotting up that end with a towel, which would have necessitated a return visit to get a photo. I was thankful that actually it was just some very large gloves.
My perilous circumnavigation continued as I had one eye on the cricket as I wandered towards the corner.
There seemed to be a pair of matching steps to descend.
Except only one was an actual set of steps, and with me still having one eye on the cricket, I went face first down the two foot drop on the right for my first non-league bruising since slipping on med-soaked concrete at Swanage and Herston a few years ago. The things I do for shit football.
I made my way to the relative safety of the far touchline, where a fair selection of Blackberrys were taken advantage of.
The only other spectators on this side were a couple of gnomes who adorned what looked to be the remains of a club themed garden.
The game got underway.
At which point the other spectators just walked across the pitch to get to this side.
From my vantage point, I was able to watch both the football and the steady fall of home wickets.
The football club now find themselves struggling for survival. Short on volunteers and finance and with the facilities needing upgrading, there was the possibility that they would fold over the summer but they have continued into the new season. To be honest, there seemed a fair amount of staff around, and the all seemed active and friendly, so it would be a real shame if the problems were insurmountable.
It was the away side who had most of the chances, with seemingly most through balls ending in a one-on-one with the keeper. However these were either delicate chips that ended up somewhere near mid-wicket.
Or toe pokes that were more akin to being underhit back passes.
However, a bump in the pitch saw a defender take a wild swing at the ball and completely miss it, and a home forward latched onto the loose ball.
And in a very un-step 11 move, calmly rounded the keeper before side footing it home.
Another @non_league dog, which I beat in a staring contest.
However, Wallington did finally manage to score.
This was a bit of a fill in move for me as I hadn't intended visiting, it was only when I saw about their troubles that I thought I'd put some money their way. Anyway, I had to leave shortly into the second half.
Leaving the ground and the away side scored another. This was actually how the score ended, 1-2 to Wallington.
A short walk took me to Percy Main Metro station.
There is engineering works on the line so it was an altered service, but I didn't have long to wait for a double set to arrive.
This was a one stop hop to Meadow Well.
It was then the pleasure of a scurry through a North Shields estate, which are all pretty horrific. I then took a wrong turning at which meant I got to do a victory lap around another estate.
However, a bit of shouting alerted me to the presence of the adjacent ground.
And somewhere at the far end of a car park was the rather innocuous entrance to the ground.
North Shields 5 v Bishop Auckland 0, ebac Northern League - Division 1
North Shields roots go back to 1896 when an incarnation of the club played in the Northern Combination. They ceased activity for WW1 and on the return played as Preston Colliery, before reverting to North Shields in the 1920s, drifting through the North East and Northern Counties league before selling on the Northern league in the 1960s. The 1980s saw a rise up to the Northern Counties league, which was then won with promotion up to the Northern Premier. However, the huge increase in travelling with these leagues saw massive debts incurred, and the club was forced to sell its town centre ground. The club were reformed in the Wearside league, and by 2004 they were back in the Northern league. The highlight of their recent history has been winning the FA Vase in 2015.
Bishop Auckland were formed in 1882 rather surprisingly, by theological students from Cambridge and Oxford Universities studying at Auckland Castle. The clubs colours are the light (Cambridge) and dark (Oxford) blue colours of the universities. They were founding members of the Northern League. They were a major force in non-league, winning the Northern title on nineteen occasions and on a national level, winning the FA Amateur cup six times. The 1980s saw them move up to the Northern Premier, however, the loss of their legendary Kingsway ground in 2005 and no suitable ground being available in the locality, saw them drop back down to the Northern league.
North Shields played at the legendary Appleby Park until 1992, which was a huge stadium in the centre of the town. Financial difficulties and subsidence caused them to sell the ground. After a nomadic existence at various playing fields, they moved to the current site in the late 1990s. IT is named after a local funeral directors.
It is still relatively undeveloped, the main stand being this rather unassuming cover.
Though it does have a great sponsor to rival Bridlington.
On the opposite side is a very low cover who's view is obscured by the dug outs.
The far end is hard standing.
Yet again the Metro was in proximity, though unlike South Shields, with an unobstructed view.
North Shields scored early on.
And then from this break away...
...they added another.
And another.
The home side carried on scoring, adding three more.
The game finishing 0-5.
My day was not over yet, and I exited, passing the rather overgrown second team pitches.
Into the centre and down towards the water front. I still insist that the unhealthiest sight I've ever seen in my life is the collection of people I once walked passed who were gathered in the smoking area of the Gala Bingo in North Shields. If you were to add up their collective food intake for that month, you would probably get a total of 1.5 portions of the five a day requirement.
This was an intriguing poster. The Brexit vote shows that the inhabitants of the North East have a low tolerance level for foreigners, and I'd suggest that their acceptance of cross dressing transexuals is perhaps even less. But no, apparently this is their favourite cabaret show. Good luck.
It was through to the rather unassuming entrance to the ferry terminal.
Where the remarkably busy Shields ferry was on its way over. Though I've only ever done it before midweek in February, its probably an unfair benchmark.
We headed across for the short hop over to South Shields.
The centre of South Shields is very similar to North Shields but the posters were advertising an evening with Andy Cole rather than the Bangkok Lady boys.
However, I was on another bus move.
This retraced my move from earlier in the day, down past the accademy and into Seaham, before depositing me on the northern fringes of Sunderland.
Where I was heading here for perhaps the highest level English football game I've seen in the last ten years.
Sunderland 0 v Leeds United 2, Sky Bet Championship
I don't normally comment on the programme covers but this is particularly poor. It looks like the losing entrant of a GCSE art competition. In the early 1980s non-league programmes used piss-poor stock image clip art depicting footballers, this just looks like a colour version of it.
So, what else have I remembered about Sunderland since this morning. Well, Lawrie McMenemy being shit. The Roker roar actually just being 14,000 peoples synchronised groaning when Martin Grey tried crossing the ball. Roy Keane's self inflicted meltdown.
Leeds United. Being hated by everbody's dad, Peacocks, Top Man, Changing badges every season, Leslie Ash, Elland Road being unchanged since 1973, 200 passes aginst Southampton, Bobby Davidson, Goldfish, spending the last fifteen years being asset stripped, tramps in parker coats chasing the referee who didn't give that offside against West Brom.
My general rule is that I'll attend one game a season where the home team's name isn't written on the ball in felt tip. I'd already done Marseille a couple of weeks ago, so this broke that rule but I'd only been to the ground once when it first opened, and before it was extended, and the timing of the game gave a good chance to revisit.
The teams emerged with me now having read the programme, and in shock to find that Simon Grayson was the Sunderland manager. So Newcastle get relegated and employ the services of a Champions League winner from Real Madrid, whilst Sunderland take on someone from Preston who once got Blackpool to the fourth round of the league cup.
And so to the game. Well, fuck me. I don't find football at this level very interesting, but god almighty, I did not expect anything anywhere near as bad as this. Absolutely fucking awful. Three of the Sunderland defence looked like they had never met each other before. Brendan Galloway appeared to have only had the concept of football explained to him before the game; he was easily the worst player I have seen this year at any level. Lamine Koné wasn't much better but at least he disguised his shortcomings by just heading or chesting the ball, only using his feet to kick people. I am writing this a day later and I am still in shock. Anyone who willingly watches this wank with any regularity, well, I have no words. Just, why?
I made it to somewhere near halftime before heading off to the station as fast as I could (ie four times as fast as Wahbi Khazri).
Onto a Newcastle bound Metro.
Passing the farmland and evaporating road that had been the journey to Sunderland Academy earlier in the day.
Back across the Tyne and getting a photo was a challenge as it was into direct sunlight. Still, I'm sure that this will be the most blurred photo of the day.
Well, apart from this one a few seconds later as I got off the Metro.
No, it appears this was the winner, as I jumped onto a Brum bound cross country.
Back over the Tyne, having been over it, under it and on it over the course of the day.
In the interim ten hours, the East Coast main line had become no more interesting.
Fortunately, I had a good selection of reading for the journey. Can I point out that this picture was taken on the train, just in case you thought my living room furniture was upholstered in red velour.
Into York, fortunately with racing not until next week, so not too many coked up call centre workers.
Instead just the base level collection of birthday bell ends, my Scarborough-Liverpool service being joined by a bunch of blokes in grass skirts. The joy.
A swift change at Leeds saw me onto a unit to Halifax.
Where there was a bus option over at the interchange.
Which dropped me back at the industrial relic right outside my flat.
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