NUFC at Prudhoe

I like my football, I’ll not deny it. I’ll watch anything, except maybe when any of the big Premier League teams play each other. Those games are always billed as the cream of the sport. Well the players may be more talented, have better tattoos and get paid too much, but for me the real spirit of the sport is at grass roots level. I would always be happier at Kimberley Park, Prudhoe than I would be at Old Trafford. So here I am.

I arrived half an hour before NUFC (not that one – this is Newcastle University FC) kicked off against Easington Colliery, hoping maybe for a Kit Kat and a coffee before we started. But inexplicably the kiosk was closed. There were mysterious shapes moving about behind the window and the smell of some kind of meat cooking in the air, but the window remained firmly shut.

After an impeccably observed two minutes silence, the game kicked off to the sound of the kiosk window opening. By the time I was halfway through my Kit Kat, the home side was 1-0 down. This delighted the young lad beside me who had obviously travelled all the way from Billy Elliot territory to support the Colliers, and tell one of the Prudhoe players that he was “a gimp” and “shite.”

Newcastle Uni continued to huff and puff against the very solid Easington defence, and when one of their more hopeful shots sailed over the fence behind the goal, a replacement ball was needed. Not as easy as it sounds. The first three that were thrown onto the pitch were rejected by the referee and the whole process took three minutes. That wouldn’t happen at Anfield. Not least because it’s probably impossible to launch the ball out of the ground there, although some of the shots in this game would come pretty close.

A note on the ref. His name is Peter Osgood. If only the linesmen were called Bobby Tambling and Alan Birchenall. (That’s one for the old folks).

3-0 to the visitors at half time. I looked around and was not surprised to see a lot of the spectators looked like me. Grey hair, past their prime, offended by the swearing but too introverted to challenge it, and slightly envious of the athleticism on display. But there were a few who didn’t fit that bill.

A couple of guys with woolly hats amd backpacks; a young lad who was either injured or not good enough to make the team; a man and his daughter who evidently just loves the game; even two women (yes, I know! It’s like it’s the 21st century or something). Although they seemed to spend most of the game chatting about something. I suspect they were in the role of “supportive parents.”

Anyway, back to the game. Easington scored their fourth with just fifteen minutes to go, to put them 4-0 up. It was very harsh on Newcastle but the history of the game is littered with teams losing when they didn’t deserve to. Trust me, I’ve seen it before and still bear the scars.

And so it ended, 4-0 to the visitors. We had the indignation from any player who had a decision go against him, a referee who “hadn’t got a clue” according to some, and supporters who thought they could’ve done better than anyone on the pitch.

Good to know that some things never change.