The Diary

29 October 2003: Tyne And Weary?

Well, if you thought football managers had it bad, what about Conservative leader Ian Duncan Smith? The knives are currently piercing the flesh on his back something awful, enough to give him more perforations than the average Tetley tea-bag, I reckon; by tomorrow, he?ll find out precisely who his true friends are. Or are ?friends? and politics bad bedfellows? Al least the resultant infighting will get all the stuff about the Royals off the front pages. Still, the back pages carry on apace, and more likely than not, tomorrow will also bring tidings of what the FA are going to do about Rio Ferdinand. Had the recent revelations about THG and athletes not come to the fore, then I reckon the FA would have gone for a ?cop-out?-type decision, but now there?s such a hoo-ha going on about this stuff being pumped into the bodies of runners totally-undetected, and, until very recently, totally-undetectable, then I reckon the national ruling body will gird its collective loins for the more serious charge of the two, i.e. wilfully missing that drugs test. The rumour that FIFA will stick their oar into United?s Champions? League hopes should they contest any verdict in the courts might well assist them in making that decision.

And, while the storm-clouds gather above and around Old Trafford, what about our favourite football club? As even the club cat knows by now, we?re off to Newcastle tomorrow to do League Cup battle with what are popularly perceived to be those fanatical footie-followers from Tyneside. Quite a few of you will remember our Premiership encounter with The Toon at their place last season; I certainly well recall my steaming indignation at two decisions in particular. Firstly, the incident shortly before the interval when Igor Balis was adjudged to have passed back to our keeper; that ?infringement? was, in fact, a badly-sliced clearance; the home side said ?thank you very much? for the resultant indirect free-kick by potting it courtesy Alan Shearer. Until then, we were one-nil to the good, and looking the part. The second? Jason Roberts being blatantly fouled in the box at the other end; I reckon the referee and lino were about the only people in the place not to spot the infringement. Another abiding memory of the ground was its sheer vastness; we were seated towards the summit ? and I really do mean ?summit? ? of the away-end; the view from our perch, both the city and its surrounding countryside, was absolutely astounding, but most certainly not recommended for vertigo sufferers. Oh, and if you happen to suffer from coronary heart disease, or a related condition, make sure you use the lift tomorrow night, OK?

As for the team news, as you?d expect, the main worry concerns poor Scouse Jase, who sustained a problem with his ankle at the fag-end of last Saturday?s Rotherham win. According to The E and S and our leader, he?ll be ?available for selection tomorrow?, but a little bird acquaintance of this column did say the other day that this might not necessarily be the case. Let me put it this way; if our Merseyside genius isn?t a starter, I won?t be too shocked. Being an ex-Mackem, Bernt Hass is expecting a ? erm ? ?warm? reception from the locals, apparently, but I don?t think he?s that bothered by that. Just like us and the Dingles, it?s all part and parcel of local rivalry. I suppose we?ll come away from this one well and truly out of the competition ? had this game been scheduled for about a month ago, I would have fancied our chances like stink, as they were under the cosh a little at that time ? but they?ve now gone five games unbeaten, and are gradually worming their way towards the Prem?s upper echelons.

Sure, we?re looking at an abrupt termination of our hopes, here, but all I ask of any Albion side confronted with insuperable odds is that they go down with a king-sized bang, and not a pathetic whimper. Forget the Megson thing for a moment; I?ll never, ever criticise a Baggies side that makes me proud to wear the shirt, and as long as our favourites do precisely that tomorrow night, you won?t hear a peep from this column. In any case, an exit from the competition might prove to be a blessing in disguise, as it?ll leave us in a better position to concentrate on the more pressing business of getting out of the Nationwide. Given our rich League Cup heritage, especially in the Sixties, that might sound strange coming from me, but I can?t help but remember what happened to Sheffield United last season. Semi-finalists in both major domestic competitions, but the sheer expenditure of effort involved in reaching that stage did for their automatic promotion bid, ditto their escape-attempt via the play-offs, letting in a certain old-gold and?.. Oh, sod it, you fill in the blanks.

Because of the horrendous amount of travelling involved ? ?Im Indoors couldn?t get the following day off, either, which concentrates the mind wonderfully ? we Dick Eds are winging our way there courtesy of Sauce and his matchday coach service. This will make for a late (early?) return, though; I really don?t expect to hit the shores of Sandwell until about three in the morning, by which time I may be rather cream-crackered, so I haven?t yet made a decision about whether to launch into my usual offering straight away, or sleep on it first. Normally I?d go for it, as you all well know, but that sort of distance is exceptional, so I might change the habit of a lifetime and leave my scribing until later that day, so ? readers in foreign climes, please note ? if I?m not there, I will be soon, so just bear with me.

At least the trip should be less-fraught than the last time we played The Toon in this competition; as I recall, the season was 1989-90, and Newcastle, as now, were in the top-flight, and we were the lower-division cannon-fodder. And, for those of you who believe in omens ? well, it is nearly Halloween! ? that night, we were the victors by the odd goal, which came courtesy Chris Whyte. Remember him? Just like tomorrow?s trip, both ?Im Indoors and myself travelled by coach (the Supporters? Club), but there was a fundamental difference between the two; for reasons best known to themselves, that night, the police kept us all waiting at a motorway services just outside the city, then took us to the ground by the ?pretty route?! We only arrived at St. James?s Park about ten minutes before the start, and any pretensions towards dignity went completely out of the window as around three or four hundred Baggies charged down the street and towards the away turnstiles in an effort not to miss the kick-off! My other abiding memory of that game revolves around a chap, a good mate of ours, who is now a famous TV and radio personality. He comes over all serious, mature and considered on the small screen these days, and really looks as though butter wouldn?t melt, but that night, after we?d gone 1-0 up, I remember him on that away terrace, as sozzled as hell, a stupid grin bisecting his chubby little face, and whirling like a Dervish overdosed on stimulant drugs! Perhaps it?s best that I leave the identity of our somewhat over-bibulous mate as an exercise for the reader!

And now for the cultural bit! Newcastle, like a good many places, started out courtesy of the Romans. In fact, they decided to use the place as the finishing point for Hadrian?s Wall; a fort called Segendunum marked the spot, but Wallsend ( a suburb) stands there now. The city gets its name from The Normans, who built a ?New Castle? from earth and timber there, situated on a plateau overlooking the Tyne. It was of vital military importance ? well, it kept the Scots out, which can?t be a bad thing ? and its presence stimulated trade and commerce. By the 1300?s, the expanding town had developed into a major sea-port. Rope-making, ship-building, and glass-making were the principal industries, but one in particular eclipsed them all, even then, and that was coal.

During the 17th century, at the western end of the quayside, was a street called Sandgate. In fact, I believe it?s still there. This was the home of the once-famous ?Keel Men? who were highly-skilled boatmen responsible for the movement of coal from the riverside to the ships on the river, hence the famous ?Keel Row? folk-song. I suppose the nearest modern day equivalent would be people in something like IT, or The City, as they were a breed apart, intermarried among each other, and wore a distinctive dress. They were also renowned for their toughness, which wasn?t surprising, considering they were descended from the Scots, or, in some cases, marauding Borders tribes known as the ?reivers?. If you happen to have the surname ?Turnbull?, then you might well have been the descendant of one. Their unique trade died with the coming of the Industrial Revolution and mechanisation of loading coal into ships.

The 19th century saw Tyneside expand on the ship-building front, as did the mines. Additionally, the expansion of Empire saw many Geordies leave the area to make their fortune in the colonies. The city grew prosperous, and this continued until after the First World War, but come the 1929 Stock Market crash, the region suffered dreadful unemployment; in fact the area still suffers from that malady to this day. Things picked up with the declaration of war in 1939 (the Royal Navy had something of a pressing need for ships, then!), and prospered, relatively speaking, in the boom-times of the fifties and sixties, but the coming of Thatcher and her government did for both the pits and the yards. Today, both are gone, or as good as, and the principal industry in that area now seems to be call centres, but with the continuing out-sourcing of many to the Asian subcontinent, it?s debatable as to how long this type of service industry will last. Whenever folk mention Newcastle these days, it?s likely to be by way of reference to the thriving social life to be had in the centre of the city, and, of course, the university, part of which is situated next to the ground.

Famous Geordies? Blimey, where do I start? Whether it?s because of the great hardship endured by its population over the years making people determined to get out of the area, one way or another, or simply that the area sups of the creative juices in quantity, there is a great long list of famous novocastrians, of which I mention but a few. Howzabout George Stephenson, of ?Rocket? fame? Or mathematician Lewis Fry Richardson? Or, moving away from the higher intellectual plane, what about Bryan Ferry, of Roxy Music, dubiously-druggy lyrics, and all? There?s Sting, aka Gordon Sumner, of course, still trying to save the planet and all who sail in it. Oh, and he still can?t sing to save his life. Neil Tennant of the Pet Shop Boys, who we have to thank for the piece of music that inspired our anthem, ?Go West Bromwich Albion?.?, and, of course, Cheryl Tweedy from ?Girls Aloud?, punch-ups in toilets permitting. Not forgetting, of course, The Animals, Eric Burdon and all. I?ll never forget their live rendering on ?Ready Steady Go? (younger readers, ask your Mum!) of ?House Of The Rising Sun?; Burdon put everything he had into that performance, and the result was the buckets of sweat you could see dripping off his face as he belted out the lyrics. I can?t imagine any current ?manufactured teen favourites? doing similar these days. Too much like hard work, I reckon.

And finally?.. One. I was quite surprised to see the other day that former Baggie Andy Hunt had decided to return to the game once more with Charlton. As most of you will recall, soon after the London club?s most recent promotion to the Prem, Andy, a steal from us, contracted post-viral fatigue syndrome, and had to quit the game because of it. Andy then moved to Belize, where he ran a shop and a small farm, and spent his retirement days in pursuits about as far removed from the game as it?s possible to be. He?s now back in training with The Addicks, having his fitness levels reassessed, and played the other night in a home reserve game versus Southampton. He didn?t score, but by all accounts, he acquitted himself well. I have to say the news surprised me; the illness Andy had is a sod to get over, and the effects can last for years. Even if outwardly cured, the symptoms can have a nasty habit of creeping up on you once more if you?re stressed, or do too much physically. I just hope Andy is sensible about this comeback; I?d hate to see him do something detrimental to his health.

Two. This one concerns The Bluenose Butcher who managed to score about 0 out of 10 for good taste when I visited his emporium today. How come? Simple. I purchased a chicken from him, a jolly splendid specimen it was, too, and reasonably-priced. The problem started when he asked me if I wanted the bird plonked into a plastic bag. As I was already carrying my Albion number ? it?s a duffel-bag, which distributes the weight evenly on my dodgy back ? I chose to have one of his instead, and once wrapped, duly carted the thing home, and it was only when I arrived there, I realised precisely what my little friend had handed me. No, it wasn?t a Blues number, had he done that on me, I would probably hit him around the head with his bloody chicken, but what he had wrapped the thing in (a very plump bird indeed, don?t forget) was a brightly-coloured plastic number extolling the virtues, of all things ? erm ? Oxfam?

 - Glynis Wright

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