By some force of unnatural magic, I have managed to escape North Shields for the past four years. But when my nomadic adventure eventually finishes, my old stomping ground will come to reclaim my soul and ambitions. Owing to a NE29 postcode, though, I had the benefits of growing up as a Whitley Bay supporter rather than the club resident within NE30. Such are the fine margins of football loyalties. Its not quite the local factionalism of downtown LA but these distinctions are still important in the northern badlands.
Throughout my life the town has gone by its own idiosyncratic rules. Aside from the weather, the settlement could easily double for the location of a Mad Max film. Just last week me and my mates were introduced to 'Big Bad John' - an OAP with surprisingly good arm wrestling skills but lacking the logical faculties when drunk to put his coat on properly. He was a nice guy.
The rough old fishing port, as ever, is going through a difficult time. The economic depression in the area has become so toxic that even the town's McDonalds branch, a mainstay of the local high street since my birth, has closed down. Amongst the usual desolation, however, lies a resurgent force in the shape of the football team, now home to a flourishing Tyneside counter-culture. This niche vibe combines unwavering left wing loyalties, alternative regional music and a growing dissatisfaction with the nefarious greed of the Premier League, as represented by Mike Ashley's regime at Newcastle United.
A new fanzine for the semi-professional club, titled Harvest From the Deep, is devoted to this terrace ethos. Hopefully the efforts of these local writers will continue beyond their successful first issue. Home and away, the team is also backed by an ever-expanding legion of supporters. At their core is the 'Ultras', most of whom were banned from St James' Park long before the Magpies' current turmoil.
Recent results have also brought an upturn in fortunes for North Shields. Last season's promotion to the Northern League Division One has since been bettered by a forthcoming appearance at Wembley in the FA Vase Final - formerly the Amateurs Cup, which the Robins last won in 1969.
A large portion of the credit must go to manager Graham Fenton (he who famously ended the title hopes of Kevin Keegan's 'Entertainers' with two late goals at Ewood Park). Since his appointment two seasons ago, the club has been transformed with a decent footballing ethos among his players and suitable ambition from the boardroom. Nobody is getting carried away here but the Geordie's team could be a force at this level for some time.
For this Wednesday night game, the home side faced another historic club in the derby dubbed 'El Coastico' by people who ought to know better. While Shields' fortunes have risen, the former strength of neighbours Whitley Bay has rapidly dwindled. Only four years ago the Seahorses had won their third Vase final in a row and were the region's dominant non-league side. Apparently, I was even on the front cover of their matchday programme for an entire season, although I've yet to see the evidence.Yet, despite some investment in bricks and mortar, Whitley's riches in prize money were squandered on inflated player wages to the point of, as accountants technically describe it, 'being broke'. For the past couple of seasons, the entire squad has been uncertain of any sustainable future; star players have departed, so too the manager Ian Chandler, and replacements have been added with the brevity of a merry-go-round. Not even the most regular observer can recognise the eleven faces in the club's blue and white stripes any more.
Shields seek to avoid that example by making firm financial commitments to improving their ground with a portion of the revenues from their trip to Wembley. Ralph Gardner Park, with its two tiny terrace sheds and a changing rooms, certainly requires updating. But at least the playing surface itself is flat and free of litter. It is a clear step up from the days when the club first arrived at its modern home, in the wake of financial mismanagement bringing it to the brink of collapse. At that time players still changed in the back seat of their cars and dog turds needed to be plucked from the pitch. Even now, snacks are sold from a trolley pushed around the perimeter fence by two elderly volunteers.
As far as mid-week matches in the Northern league go, this was another scrappy affair punctuated by my own crushing realisation that all endeavours are futile. I never have been able to watch live football in the evenings without feeling gloomy. Perhaps Albert Camus' existentialist writings were inspired by similar thoughts when he played in goal.
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| Camus considers the virtues of playing three centre backs. |
Shields proved comfortably superior. They scored two cracking goals shortly after a bludgeoned first, all before the end of the opening half. In the concluding session, the despairing visitors controlled the ball but to little effect. With plenty of fixtures still to play before their big day in the capital, Shields cruised towards the final whistle and safeguarded their advantage. Good order was maintained by a no-nonsense referee with the demeanour of a pub landlord. Aside from a couple of bookings, the derby remained an amicable occasion.
Sporting victory for this small town is important. In this tiny, deprived, and politically ignored dump (I say with affection), a rebel voice is sounding. Long may it thrive besides a football club which truly reflects the qualities of the people connected to it, from boardroom level to fanbase. The once-almighty Newcastle United cannot say the same.
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