Match off due to waterlogged pitch.
Next Sunday's game off due to Garston being in a Herts Vets Cup match. I thought that was their senior or junior vets, just shows you can' always believe what people say. So well done the victors in the earlier 11-2 victory! I smell perfidy, unless my head's stuck up my arse.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to one and all of you.
Humbug?
Nay!
Ron the sort of manager- hey a couple of lovely headers to assist me in my journey to my dotage.
Thanks Steve.
26 comments:
Spartans holding the Cherries.
Half time and the football world waits.
Played against Spartans, 1968. Knocked them out of Northumberland cup quarter final in Blyth, when they were a really top side. Anyone out there play in that game with me? Let me know.(We lost in the final at St James Park to Whitley Bay. We were mighty minnows.)
Watched that game at SJP.
Stop fishing for compliments young Ron. The peak of your football career was playing for Maths against the PE College, closely followed by the unbeaten run for Camden Libraries.
Pitman sent off - not as you might think for Blyth.
Blyth score!!
Blyth win.
Still remember that game against Whitley Bay, Ronny. A very bumpy pitch. You were the best player I ever attempted to play football with and you should have gone much further - if only there had been no alcohol or women in tyneside!
What a night in the Quay Club wi me little trophy cup for the sipping of whisky. There till 2am and a didnt score there either.
Did I score 6 against PE or does my memory fail me, was it 7?
Anyone got the lowdown on Ron's escapades on the Tyne Bridge in the
6o's? I do remember he was ultimately incarcerated.
PE game - It was a 5 all draw and I reckon Ron scored 6 for Maths.
There was only vague scattered reports of the Tyne Bridge climb - no hard evidence. However I can vouch for his falling off the Castle Keep on to his head and crawling back to the Elswick Road brothel where an ambulance took him to a hospital where he was subsequently ejected to walk back in his socks. Tame but true. He was sober throughout.
Twice up and over the bridge.
Twas in the papers.
Ron spent a night in Paradise with a younger man, this from an impeccable source, who bravely does not regret anything that happened.
I deny a few things, I regret nothing.
Is it Billy Foster out there in the vacuum?
Yes - I admit it - the bonny banks of the River Dee were remembered - I never found that map - and for a brief spell Scotland were the World Champions.
Yes you lost it on Morrone Hill above Braemar!
You broke a cup having a crap by the River Tilt and we nearly perished in that bothy in the blizzard ridden Cairngorms. A cauld neet hinny.
Did I nearly get into a punch up with a porter at Arbroath Station?
Or was that you? Couldn't have been me surely, there would be no nearly about it. I have grown up!
Toodle pip!
Right - I have now come out. You should do the same . Your team-mates, they are called the Knobs I believe - quaint.
I admit nothing, what cup? what shit? what Cairngorms? What Arbroath?
The station-master, who you insulted badly, had mustered all his porters on the platform to stop us getting on, but we had bought tickets this time and he had no option but to allow us on. Schaudenfreude(?) was ours!!
I believe our treck was historic, the only time the time honoured clan route from Blair Atholl to Braemar was done in Windy Nook Cooncil wellies.
Di yi remember the Woolworths holdall that snapped and our tinned provisions from Ethel's shop launched aal doon the moontinside? We were never in the scouts so were ill prepared.
I was in the Boys' Brigade for two weeks though but they taught yi nowt!
Aye Scotland beat England , nay hammered them, that bliddy Slim Jim Baxter! Nae si slim when he joined Sunderland mind he wiz ounly on ees forst liver then.
Hold this Knobline.
But we knocked on a farmer's door and he gave us a sack and all the provisions that did not end in the Tilt were carried by me over my shoulder. I have since discovered that my ancestors included tinkers from Scotland and I did feel strangely at home in that mode.
The camp-site by the Pools of Dee, the 2 mile run in wellies down to the ill-fated faux apres-ski environment of Mar Lodge, just to down as many bottles of Export as possible in the 15 minutes left and returning slowly, puking all the way. Nowt can compare.
Is it just me or does it sound like Ron is holding a coversation with himself on the blog?
Ron is reminicing with a life long friend.
The sack was marked Kirkaldy Potatoes I remember it well. Did I not carry it for a bit.
And I beat you in the run to Mar lodge for last orders. Horrible beer wasn't it?
And wasn't it fucking freezing! A character building exercise though how it helped me in my ensuing life in the soft south I know not.
How many shit outside lefts can you name at the Toon post Bobby Mitchell?
Liam "Call me Bill" Tuohy
Taylor of the thunderous shot (the Roker end crossbar is still vibrating) but nowt else.
I have 3 unfortunately.
Albert the Playboy Scanlon, Jimmy Fell, George Luke who road down the left wing on the back of an Arsenal fullback, whipping him as he went. There were loads more aal fackin yapless!
It aal went doonhill when Alan Suddick left.
But there were also crap right wingers by the shovel-full. Gordon Hughes - was the first one I saw- but wait, I am being unfair, he was blind. Did he have a guide dog on the pitch? My memory fails me.
I am still plsying football - 5-a-side against players a third of my age. Scored 4 goals last week - beat that old man.
Gordon "open the gates" Hughes a dead ringer for Charlie Drake. Last seen shepherded out of the Leazes end by a full back and hurtling over the Town Moor. 43 years ago, he should be at the North Pole by now. Hope he stays there.
But he scored with a long range shot through the legs of a Newton Heath full back in a stirring 7-3 cup win. 60,000 crowd.
The joy was undimmed by being told that in the last home game two had been crushed to death against the concrete barrier we were sitting on.
Just beat Spurs 2-1, a back heel from the Duke to Duff and a neat finish.
Butt and Guthrie were, ahem, workmanlike.
Great result, those boorish and ill-mannerd Spurs supporters were well and truly shut up.
I hate Spurs me.
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