Hopping mad

The strange case of the 'Whatton One'

Followers of Easington United will no doubt have seen the recent news concerning the charge of “failure to control its members” levelled at the club following the final game of the season, at home to Whatton United.

Because of the subsequent disciplinary process, I couldn’t really go into any details about the incident that prompted this charge when penning the match report and subsequent blog post. Even though the views expressed in this blog are mine alone and not necessarily those of the club, I didn’t wish to post anything that might in any way hamper our defence.

However, with the case now closed, I feel able to express my disappointment at the East Riding CFA Disciplinary Panel’s decision to find “Case Proved” and to warn the Club as to its future conduct. Granted, no fine was imposed but the name of Easington United AFC has still been tainted by something which I feel was totally out of our control. 
What really galls me is that I honestly can't see how the club could have prevented the incident for which it was eventually charged, nor do I understand how it is somehow responsible for the actions of the individual(s) in question.  

As for the incident itself, I only caught the tail end of it.  It was whilst standing in the entrance to the Hospitality Area enjoying the game when my attention was drawn to some sort of altercation taking place in and around the visitors’ technical area further up the touchline.

From what I’ve since learned, words had allegedly been exchanged between the spectator in question and the Whatton manager. This in turn led to the former encroaching into the technical area to - allegedly - launch some sort of assault.

Order was quickly restored (i.e. the spectator retired behind the barrier) and after the referee had consulted with his assistant he then asked me to escort said individual from the ground. This I did - a matter subsequently noted in the referee's official report - and the spectator proceeded to stand outside the ground's main gate trying to watch the remainder of the action.

En route to the gate, I learned that the individual had travelled up from Louth, was a regular groundhopper, had never encountered problems of this nature before and, finally, was profusely apologetic for any trouble brought on a club which had afforded such a warm welcome. That, I hoped, would be the end of the matter.
It wasn’t.  An official complaint from the Whatton manager ensured things would have to be taken further.  This in itself was also slightly annoying given that by the accounts of various bystanders, he was by no means blameless.
On receipt of the charge sheets, in addition to helping complete our official response on behalf of the club, I contacted the ERCFA to explain that I couldn't provide details of the the spectator concerned - let alone pass on the correspondence - as I knew nothing as to his/her whereabouts.  The individual is not and never has been a "member" of our club. Indeed, prior to 21st May I’m almost certain that he/she had never set foot in the ground (I surely would have remembered).
So how far does our remit of responsibility extend?  From the fact we've been found guilty it must be assumed that anybody at our ground on match day is in effect a "club member" for that day and is therfore to be made aware of our Code of Conduct for Spectators.  However, we are in a somewhat unique position at Low Farm (or the Easington Recreation & Sports Ground to give it its full title).  Because our ground is owned by the local Recreation & Sports Association (ERSA) and is open to the public, we are unable to charge and/or operate a gate.  Therefore, despite there being no other attraction on the ground on a Saturday afternoon, it could be argued that not everybody present is there to watch football.  In short, anyone can come on to the ground at any time, day or night.
Still, even accepting that this individual was there to watch the game and therefore falls loosely under our responsibilty, there was nothing to suggest anything untoward when this particular spectator and several other "hoppers" (enjoying one of the few games taking place that afternoon) queued for their pre-match refreshments, took a stroll round the ground and/or checked-off their team sheets against that on the programme.  The fact that by and large they have no real affinity to either team taking part would suggest there would be little for them to get over-excited about.  How wrong could I be?

Ironically, because nobody knew the exact details of the spectator in question (name, address etc) the case against him/her was found “Not Proved”.  So, in effect, both parties actually involved in the incident come out of it unscathed whereas the name of Easington United appears in the local Press alongside a charge of failing to control its members, thus allowing people to assume all sorts of misdemeanours have taken place.  Similar to the fall-out from the events at Bulwell at the end of the 2009/10 season, mud often sticks.  Talk about adding insult to injury.

But short of pursuing a costly appeal with the Football Association, there is nothing the club can do to clear its name.  Excuse me if I fail to see how justice has been administered in this particular case.

Slaked by the taste of the Lakes

A week at Windermere - not so much a travelogue as a beer blog!


The beauty of the Lakes captured in one shot!

I've recently returned from quite possibly the best family holiday Mrs Slush and I have enjoyed since the arrival of the Slushettes meant adult-only breaks were (almost) a thing of the past.  A heady mix of decent weather (honest), beautiful scenery and some fantastic locally brewed real ales have ensured we're already planning a return trip.  (And I even managed to wangle a bit of Under 21s action in the pub to boot...but I didn't let that spoil things!). Thought I'd share some of it with you...

It was mid-morning when we departed God's Own County bound for Limefitt Park, just outside Troutbeck on the road climbing north from Windermere to Ullswater and the Kirkstone Pass.  After decent progress along the M62 and up the M6, with just the one stop at Hartshead Moor Services (where I looked longingly at the little mud track up through the bushes, which we used to use en-route to the nearby village pub back in the days when Simon Gray coaches stopped off en route to Hull City away matches in Lancashire) we arrived at our 'home', No. 29 Fellside Lodge, early in the afternoon.

Checked-in, unpacked and briefly acquainted with a very comfortable looking abode, we headed off back into Windermere to pick up provisions.  Of course, for me this meant a sample of the local brews and I returned with four fine-looking local specimens: the Watermill Inn & Brewing Co's "A Bit'Er Ruff"(4.1%), Cumbrian Legendary Ales "Loweswater Gold" (4.3%), Hawkshead Brewery's "Lakeland Gold" (4.4%) and Thwaites "Wainwright" ("Exquisitely Lovely Golden Ale", 4.1%).  Not a bad start to the week.

In addition to the bottled offerings, hopes of a decent week ahead were raised by two other factors - the fine weather and the predominance of pubs selling "real ale"...well, we were expecting to do plenty of eating out!  This even extended to the on-site hostelry, The Haybarn Inn which boasted a near perfect combination of "good food, real ale and Sky Sports".  Result!

A Haybarn with almost everything this man could ask for!

Friday evening was glorious, in stark contrast to what we'd have been getting back home where something of a torrential downpour was being experienced.  I enjoyed "A Bit'er Ruff" on the decking while planning the first of our week's walks.  It certainly lived up to its label's boast: "A classic best bitter".  And after BBC North West news had reported - albeit briefly - on Yorkshire's T20 win at Old Trafford, I retired to bed with thoughts of a cracking week ahead.
Saturday dawned in the most glorious fashion and after breakfast we headed off for our first "Short Walk", aided by a route enclosed in the lodge owner's welcoming pack.  Known as the "Ing Bridge Circular" we amended the route slightly, starting at the Haybarn before ascending up onto Applethwaite Common and setting off in a northerly direction before eventually returning to the valley bottom, across the aforementioned bridge and back to Limefitt via the main road.  It was approximately three to three-&-a-half miles long, enough to ensure both Slushettes would be complaining by the end!
Lunch was enjoyed out on the decking, to the accompaniment of the lodge owners' 101 80s Anthems CD, which included a cracking three-in-a-row from Simply Minds ("Don't you Forget About Me"), The Waterboys ("Whole Of The Moon") and Danny Wilson ("Mary's Prayer").  Ah, the memories...
But this was no time for nostalgia.  Fortified by recently bought Westmorland sausages  we headed off down to the nearby childrens playground by the beck where an afternoon of simple pleasures was enjoyed (which mostly involved me getting wet of course).
With Windermere not boasting Mrs Slush's fave supermarket, a quick change before tea saw us head off down to Kendal to stock up at the nearest Asda.  En route back, we just happened to pass The Watermill at Ings.  Oh dear.  Well, it would have been rude not to pop in...
Disappointingly, only 13 of the advertised 16 cask ales were actually available this particular evening (!) but I felt it only fair to sample two of the "house" offerings, "Isle of Dogs" ("Golden, Hoppy & Malty" 4.5%) and "Collie Wobbles" ("A pale refreshing bitter", 3.7%) which provided perfect wash-down material for the sumptious Beef & Collie Wobbles pie.  The pub was a popular draw, which wasn't surprising given the quality of the fare on offer.  Oh, and the Younger Slushette had fish and chips...not for the last time this particular trip.

A place guaranteed to give you the "Collie Wobbles"

It was raining as we left The Watermill and the Elder Slushette had also taken a distinct turn for the worse by the time we arrived back at Fellside.  Both girls were soon tucked up in bed...and we weren't long after them.  Two days gone, three local ales already enjoyed and a full week to go.  This was already turning out to be a cracking holiday.    
Sunday delivered on its promise of a bright and breezy start but held the promise of rain spreading up from the south west later.  A day to get the walking in early then.
Actually, today's was more of a brief stroll, albeit up the far-from-pedestrian friendly track that runs from Troutbeck Church up to the village itself.  It was enough to have the Slushettes panting by the time we reached the top.  There we enjoyed a pleaseant walk through the village, really a collection of tiny hamlets (Townhead, Townend, Head Green) strung out along about a mile-and-a-half, before coming back down just after The Mortal Man (a pub I noted for future reference!).

A sign of good things to come

With the weather already turning we headed off in the car to find Sunday lunch.  I thought I'd done well when spotting the Badger Bar, adjoining The Glen Rothay Hotel opposite Rydal Water on the road from Ambleside to Grasmere.  Sent in first to recce the joint, two things immediately convinced me this was the place to stay - a waiter carrying delicious looking plates of roast beef &Yorkshire pud along with a pump advertising Dent Brewery "Golden Fleece" (4.0%).  Sold.  I gathered the family, got them seated, ordered the drinks then began ordering the food...uh-oh!  I was suddenly informed the last of the roasts had just been sold (well it was nearly two o'clock!).  Somewhat surprisingly, Mrs Slush didn't think the kids would want to settle for Wild Rabbit Stew as an alternative (I thought it sounded great) so the "Golden Fleece" was dispatched perhaps a touch quicker than I'd have liked, while the three accompanying soft drinks were written off as "collateral" (well, we woz on us 'olidays!).
Back in the car to treatment bordering on the silent from my driver, I knew I needed to pull a rabbit out of the hat...and not the wild stew variety.  I did so in some style, courtesy of The Travellers Rest at Grasmere, a couple of miles further north. 
Not only was the long overdue Sunday Roast forthcoming but so was a fine selection of Jennings ales.  I settled on "Cocker Hoop" (4.6%), which proved an excellent choice.

We were "Cocker Hoop" to find this place

Despite persistent rainfall, we enjoyed a decent afternoon of driving and sightseeing, including the famous Sarah Nelson's Grasmere Gingerbread Shop and the picturesque route up to Keswick, with nearby Derwent Water and Helvellyn thrown in for good measure.  It was a drive made more interesting when the Younger Slushette appeared to think the sound of Ollie Murs was coming from her shoes...she'd not previously realised there were speakers in the rear passenger doors.  Cuh!
Having eaten late (and well) at lunch, tea was a light affair and there was no argument from the Slushettes when bed was offered.  This being done by half-seven, it seemed silly of me not to take up the offer of the England v Spain U21 Euro Championship game on the TV in the Haybarn Inn.
Racing through a substantial downpour, my mood further darkened on arrival when I found the pub's television tuned into the Canadian Grand Prix.  "First come first serve", the bar manager told me.  But surely this race should be done by now?  Hang on, they're not even racing, it's bloody peeing it down.  "Yeah, they've suspended it but the gentleman at the front still wants to watch it".
A fine pint of Thwaites "Wainwright" helped console me but as the clock ticked by towards 8.30pm and still we watched various shots of the track being mopped and a safety car completing laps at a tediuos pace.  There was no hint let alone sign of F1 action.  I was becoming more and more tetchy.  Sharing my mood was a fellow fan who'd arrived with family at 5pm but still hadn't been early enough to secure the TV rights.
He told me he was from North Wales, supported Liverpool and was interested in seeing how Jordan Henderson, the Reds' new signing, would shape up.  On noticing my polo top he also told me his brother-in-law was a City fan.  We were to get on nicely.
In the end I bit the bullet and calling the bar manager across I asked if it would be possible to watch the game for at least as long as the race remained suspended.  "You'll have to ask this gentleman", was his reply.  I did.  And the gentleman in question - a Geordie - immediately consented, albeit rather brusquely, before grabbing his coat and leaving the pub.  How to win friends and influence - if only I'd done that half an hour earlier!
We got the game on in time to see England's best spell of the first half (the 5mins leading up to HT) and have a good Anglo-Welsh whinge about the Spanish goal before putting the world to rights over the half-time interval.

Raining on Spain...and in the Lakes!

A couple more pints of "Wainwright" helped my enjoyment of a second half which saw Danny Welbeck pop up almost two yards offside to earn England a late leveller.  All smiles then as me and my new found friend promised to meet up again on Wednesday for the Ukraine game.  On the walk back to the lodge I had my first ever close encounter with a beaver.  I felt like I was on Springwatch...
Monday; wet start, drizzle in the air and damp underfoot.  Also, and more importantly, Mrs Slush's birthday!  So a relaxed morning was enjoyed before - with the promise of things brightening and warming up - we made tracks to head off up to Ambleside.
Things took a bit of a nosedive when, being alerted to the fact I'd forgotten something, the 'Birthday Girl' pulled up to let me dash back to the lodge and then inadvertently reversed the car into a nearby lodge.  Oops.  Thankfully the damage to the cabin was mainly superficial.  That to the car looked slightly more worrying.  Still, not much we could do about it there.

"Oops!"

Having reported the incident to reception, we headed off up to Ambleside (me at the wheel by now!) and within half-an-hour boarded the Steamer 'Teal' armed with a Family Freedom of the Lake ticket. 
Under leaden skies we headed down to Lakeside where a brief trip on the Lakeside-Haverthwaite Railway was followed by a cruise back up to Bowness-on-Windermere, this time on the 'Tern', and a visit to the 'World of Beatrix Potter' attraction as well as an ice cream parlour offering 32 flavours (I opted for Cinammon & Plum in case you're wondering - nice).  
By the time we arrived back in Ambleside on the 'Teal', the sun was beating down lending itself to a most picturesque scene.  A similarly delightful sight was provided by the bottle of "Wainwright" that greeted me back at Fellside.
A glorious morning greeted us on Tuesday, prompting a drive down to Grizedale Forest Park and a day spent exploring some of the various short walks.  The Millwood Long Trail, undertaken immediately after lunch, was especially rewarding.
From Grizedale we drove northwards to Hawkshead, which besides being the home of the well-known outdoor clothing company and some particularly fine local beers, is - according to the excellently produced 'Lakes' guidebook: "like going through a time warp (when) stepping into the tiny bustling mainly car-free village...the narrow streets and the brightly white-washed cottages are an oasis from today's high street sameness".  Too true.
In addition to what appeared again to be a too-good-to-be-true amount of real ale hostelries, the village is also home to the Hawkshead Relish Company, winner of over 40 Great Taste awards and it's easy to see (or rather taste) why.  I do like a good bit of relish, even when as over-priced as this.  And after the Elder Slushette and I had taken full advantage of the many tasting samples on offer, the apple, date and damson chutney was duly purchased and packed for transportation back to the East End of Holderness (along with a five-jar "Father's Day" variety pack for Grandad Slush).  A brief visit was also made to the Grammar School, where between 1779 and 1787 William Wordsworth was really encouraged to read and write poetry.

A rarity - a tourist attraction not packed with Japanese tourists!

Heading across to Coniston via Hawkshead Hill brought with it the closest of encounters with a lorry on one of the countless "God I can't believe it's this narrow" roads in the area.  But eventually we arrived safely at the scene of Donald Campbell's ill-fated 1967 World Water Speed Record attempt.  
After a leisurely stroll from Coniston Water back to the village along a route dominated by 'The Old Man' in the background, The Crown Inn, a Robinsons establishment, was chosen as venue for tea.  How nice it was to allow the missus to choose pubs on the merits of their child-friendly menu as opposed to me having to nudge her towards the real ale establishments (they're ALL real ale establishments it would seem in this neck of the woods!).  So, although The Black Bull (home to the Coniston Brewing Company) would have been my preferred choice, The Crown was a decent substitute given the very enjoyable pint of Hartley's Cumbria Way (4.1%) which accompanied a superb Chef's Burger.  A perfect end to a near perfect day.
Wednesday and only two full days left - where had it gone, eh?!  Unfortunately, this was the sort of "day in the Lakes" we'd anticipated beforehand - damp, drizzly, thoroughly miserable.  The tops of the local peaks were hidden by low cloud and the planned agenda underwent overhaul.  Deciding to head off in the car and "go where our fancy takes us", we eventually settled on Keswick.

It's wet under Moot

Thankfully, the rain had stopped by the time we got there, allowing for a pleasant stroll around this market town, which is dominated by the 19th century Moot Hall (now the Tourist Information Centre) and an unbelievable number of outdoor clothes shops.  A brief stroll down to Derwent Water preceded a drive north-westwards to another Cumbrian market town, Cockermouth and from there to the "historic" coastal town of Maryport on the Solway Estuary.
The original intention was to have the highly-acclaimed fish & chips on offer at The Lifeboat Inn for tea...unfortunately they didn't start serving them for another two hours.  Therefore reluctantly - even more so when I noticed the banner outside proclaiming "All Real Ales 99p a pint" - we abandoned the idea and headed for "home".
After tea it was up onto Applethwaite Common for another of the "Short Walks" recommended by the Lodge owners.  We opted for a mix of the "High Route" and "Quick Route" with the former offering excellent views over Windermere and the latter assuaging the Slushettes.  The weather held firm with some welcome evening sunshine providing the perfect companion and the thirst I worked up was slaked by a lovely pint of Hawkshead Lakeland Gold on return to the lodge.  One more day to go...

A thirst for knowledge

Having set my sights on Wansfell Pike for the final day, the early morning drizzle didn't bode well; especially when it seemed to close in again just as were were loading the rucksack and prearing to head out.  Still, if a week in the Lakes had taught me one thing it was to trust the BBC's local weather and sure enough, no sooner had we climbed to our designated start spot (the Post Office at Troutbeck ) than the clouds rolled back and glorious sunshine took their place.
I've got to say the next three-and-a-half hours were probably the most enjoyable of my whole week.  A steady ascent up Robin Lane and The Hundreds provided us with some quite breathtaking views of Lake Windermere on one side and the area around Ambleside on the other.  The Slushettes never once questioned what we were doing (alright, so maybe the once...or twice!) and it was only when we were within what I termed "spitting distance" of the final summit (in truth about another half-hour's climb) did Mrs Slush finally bring me to a halt.  I kept my sense of failure to myself and instead thought of consolation being provided in The Mortal Man; just, oh, about an hour-and-a-bit's walk back down to Troutbeck!



Not much further now

 The reward was worth the effort.  As Mrs Slush and the Slushettes tucked into some particularly tasty lunchtime fodder (the Younger Slushette again deeming fish and chips as the only thing anyone was going to serve her) I also took in the delights of a pint of Coniston Bluebird Bitter and half a Sally Birkett Ale, which I believed at the time was a Hawkshead Brew but having returned home I'm now doubting myself on that one?.  Anyway, both hit the spot.  And the sun shone.  We all smiled and all seemed well with the world.  I could have remained there all day.
As it was we managed to drag ourselves back to the lodge where, after a quick change and freshen-up, it was down to the Lake District Visitor Centre at Brockhole where the Slushettes somehow found the energy to give the outdoor adventure playground a good going over.
There was only one place to go for tea - The Haybarn Inn, our local, where despite the obvious temptation of another fine pint of Thwaites Wainwright, I opted for a Jennings Cumberland, my first of the trip.  I wasn't disappointed.  And the food - cajun chicken - was pretty damn good too.

Master of all he surveys...almost

And that was that.  Friday morning signalled our departure from Limefitt.  Seven thoroughly enjoyable days and numerous very enjoyable pints - not a bad combination.  I've got a feeling we'll go back in the not-too-distant...so shore up those lodge skirts!

Looking back

A selective review of the 2010/11 season

Pre-Season once again proved enjoyable, not least the first Annual Fun Day in July at which Nige led us all in a demonstration of how not to put a gazebo up, the ice-cream van did a runner without paying and Steve Collins (all 5ft & a peanut of him) decided to pick on the considerably larger frame of Pete Skipper in a supposedly friendly game between the Awd Ezzies and the Ex-Tigers.
During the summer, we also had brilliant attendances at training – ironic that.

As for the pre-season First Team games, one took us to York for a return meeting with Hamilton Panthers.  Regular driver Pistol Pete – back with us for a second season - was in fine form, even using the pretence of having to buy a birthday card as justification for a stop-off in Beverley on the return leg.  On my arrival home, Mrs Slush set the tone for a long season ahead: “Hmm, nine hours out for ninety minutes football?”  I didn’t realise we’d been that quick to be honest!

We kicked off our second season in the Central Midlands Football League on a gloriously sunny August afternoon.  At home.  To Bulwell.  All police leave cancelled.  Two MoD patrol cars parked up in the car park, automatic sub-machine guns at the ready.  They weren’t needed.  We won 3-1.  There was no trouble and Mozzer didn’t even need protection in the showers…well, only from Charlie but that’s a regular occurrence.

September saw the start of the County League season, with Stiffs boss Kevin Appleyard quietly confident that his squad of doom would kick-on from their H. E. Dean Cup triumph and clinch a first ever Premier Division title.  A 4-0 opening day defeat at Beverley Town soon changed his mind…

However, what a difference at Casuals level.  To say they’ve made a great improvement on last season would be something of a back-handed compliment…considering they started from a pretty low base.  When you’ve finished one off the bottom of the whole East Riding County League the year before, almost anything would constitute improvement.

However, even the ‘glass-half-full’ manager Maccer and the ‘glass-positively-sperming over with positivity’ assistant Passionate Dan probably couldn’t believe that after just three games of the season they were top of Division 5. Played 3, won 3.  It doesn’t get any better than that.  It didn’t.

Kenny Knott’s broken leg against Hornsea was followed by successive cup exits and a run of three straight league defeats.  Now that was more like the Casuals we’d come to know and love.

Back at “the top end”, after a relatively quiet start to things, The Pistol was well into his stride as autumn kicked in.  By the time we hit South Normanton on 16 October Pete had driven us to five away match venues, clipped three roundabouts, fourteen wing mirrors and told 23 drivers of vehicles of various shapes & sizes that they were “complete f___ing idiots who shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a steering wheel”. 

Funny that, from where we were sitting there was only “complete f___ing idiot” behind a steering wheel!

Of course Pete didn’t have to look far for encouragement.  “Go on Pistol” would urge Mozzer, who would also take such opportunities to rarve off his kecks and slap his tadger against the windscreen at the nearest poor unfortunate driver or passer-by. 

Much to Charlie’s delight it should be added.

Meanwhile, in the front of the bus, Shotgun Burt (or the new Councillor Graham as I’m sure he’d now like to be known) would be recounting his umpteenth tale of sexual frustration (pre-you Josie of course) in locations varying from buses (obviously) to bale-stacks.  And the hip flask would be gradually emptied…

South Normanton away marked a low point of the whole season.  It was the day my dummy first came out, due to a distinct lack of players seemingly willing to make the trip to the early season pacesetters.  We ended up going with 12 plus both managers.  On the same day Kev had a squad of 35 available for the Reserves while Maccer was turning away 15 players (and Dane Hagan - again) from the Casuals.

We lost 7-0 and had Charlie sent off, while Dave Mack’s less-than-friendly touchline tete-a-tete with his Crombie-clad opposite number resembled a “Fight” between Harry Hill and Tony Soprano!

However, of all the embarrassments to befall us that afternoon, none stands out more than that which occurred just moments before kick-off, as both teams, management and spectators gathered to observe a moment’s silence in memory of a player who’d recently been killed in a car accident.

As I stood there alongside Smalls, just to the right of the goal, with only the sound of rain drops slapping against my Club-issue jacket, I became aware of a strange noise in the distance.  It was whistling.  And not only whistling but a rather jovial little ditty at that.  Who the effing hell could that be thought I?  Then came my answer as from behind the opposite end goal, emerging from the Tea Hut, came The Pistol – cup of char in one hand, programme in the other – and wandering along to a seat in the stand, whistling away to his heart’s content without a bloody care in the world.  It was only when he eventually found his seat and looked out to observe the gathered throng all standing heads bowed in perfect silence did he realise what a complete plonker he’d just been!

By the autumn thoughts had also turned to a certain date in the calendar that had seemingly the whole country planning street parties, digging out the bunting and examining the guest list to see if they were on it.  Yes, it was Danny Campbell’s wedding.

It appeared for a few weeks back in November that Danny & Katy’s big day really had brought everybody together.  Except Maccer.

It was certainly a day that I’ll remember fondly; in particular the glazing over of the eyes on the part of Rosie, Hilary & my very own Mrs Slush as Mickey Bo, Doug and I once again disappeared down a sepia-tinged memory lane of baggy shorts, laced up balls and fields full of cow shit; Meanwhile Frosty and Laura disappeared to fornicate under the table; while Stu sat there with a face like a slapped arse when he realised that being the Best Man didn’t excuse him from having to get his hand in his pocket for a round or two.

Talking of The Stumo, he of course had his own joyful occasions this past year with a lovely new arrival.  Ah…let’s just hope she doesn’t develop the Campbell chassis when she’s older or discover her Uncle Dan’s peculiar fetish for Connor & Graham buses.

The same day that DC was getting his leg-over as a married man for the first time, Reserves player-boss Kev Appleyard was getting his pinned and potted following our second broken limb of the season.  It was a cruel blow, especially for wife Nicky who would soon find herself with two dependents to run about after…she must’ve heaved a huge sigh of relief that at least the elder of these could wipe his own arse!

And then the snow came; for six bloody weeks.  The whole of the country appeared to come to a standstill.  Roads were impassable, houses were cut off and even professional sport struggled to cope….but still Charlie Holden moaned on Facebook: “Can’t believe the game’s off again, it’s been sunny all morning!”

My first trip of the New Year took me to Thorngumbald for a look at the Casuals.  And I was pleased to see that some things never change – Manager Maccer steering his side through a full set of match drills while he puffed away on a tab end; proceeding to have his fellow defenders adopt a “high line”…across the edge of the six yard box; and finally to sub the three youngest and possibly fittest members of the squad, while he, his passionate assistant and Ted Hankey Ward to continue clocking up the appearances.  Well, it’s all about loyalty at that level…

Meanwhile in Karl Hodgson, the Casuals have finally found a replacement for Dave Clubley –doesn’t tackle, rarely heads a ball but scores a few and takes every throw-in, free-kick and corner.  He also holds the current club record for the number of times he’s gone down injured in a season – beating Yogi Day’s 37 set during just three appearances in 1979!  

The First Team returned to action the following week some twelve weeks since last boarding The Riding School Express.  When The Pistol and Councillor Shotgun pulled up at Westfield Close – late of course – for the trip to Bilsthorpe, it was nice to find that despite the recent layoff, certain things remained constant:

• Pete’s driving remained erratic
• Mozzer’s bag remained unfeasibly large for such a small space
• Brett’s arse remained the smelliest thing known to man
• Charlie remained the object of ridicule every time he opened his mouth

Bilsthorpe was the game I chose to implement my new method of match reporting – namely the Dictaphone!  And the following day it was great to sit down and listen to quality playback:  "Last minute and a f___ing equaliser from the b_____d who should've been sent off five minutes earlier. Number b_____d thirty-three. Two all."

We bounced back a week later to beat Parkhouse in the league cup replay.  Preceding the game we held a minute’s silence in order to pay respects to the original Councillor Graham.  Thankfully The Pistol wasn’t there to whistle through it.

Meanwhile, at Reserve team level, in the absence of laid-up manager Appleyard, the team was making a real bid to clinch the relegation place that has eluded them for four seasons.  Seven successive league defeats went some way to putting them in pole position.  Thank God the H. E. Dean Cup came around to help inspire an upturn in fortunes…and strangely prompt an abundance of players!

As for the Casuals, their campaign had become a touch more inconsistent after the storming start, although a convincing win over local rivals Withernsea provided much mirth.  But it was the second victory over the Seasiders, which came right at the season’s close, that prompted the Passionate One to post this classic on a certain well-known social networking site: “Kay Kendall, Kenny Baker, Barry Brigham, Stuart Gray, Shaun Wong, Richard Stead, John Dunn, Sid Megson, Dinno & Vitto, Teddy Clark - your boys have took one hell of a beating yet again!!”

March and April were accompanied at all three levels by players imbibing too much on a Friday and spitting dummies out on a Saturday.  And often it proved entertaining too.  No more so than on an otherwise awful day at Thorne Colliery, when Farny and Mozzer decided to perform a pre-match strip show – finishing up with only the most minimal of items covering their modesty.  Oh how we laughed, none more so than Charlie…until he discovered that the only thing covering Mozzer’s organ was in fact the goalkeeper’s glove!

In other news, Brim’s years of experience and putting nets up and instructing others on how to do it, was shown up to the full when no fewer than the three goals against Kiveton slipped through the bottom of it; Hodgy was almost taught the harshest of lessons as to why it’s never wise to try and make a phone call off your mobile while stood under a telephone wire, next to a steel container and having just alighted your sit-on mower during an electric storm; and – most impressive of all – the Ground Force Rescue Team sprung into action just in the nick of time to rescue the Chairman after the latter had wedged himself down a manhole in an attempt to unblock the passageway to the shit that was currently building up in Kev Newsam’s toilet! 

“Why me?” had asked Doug. 

“I’ve got me best gear on, I’m darting” said Hodgey; 

“I’ve onny just woke up owld son, I’ve been golfing” said Brim. 

They both obviously knew what would happen when Doug managed to shift the final piece of offending stonework! “Saved from the Easington Tsunami” roared the Holderness Gazette headlines…well, they would have done had I sent them!  Ee, ‘Last of the Summer Wine’ has got nothing on Brim, Dave & Doug.

And so another season has drawn to a close.  For the Stiffs it was accompanied by 9pts from teams who couldn’t be arsed to come to the Humber Riviera; for the Casuals a very encouraging 6th place and for the First Team a disappointing league position but a first win the South Holderness Cup for the first time in four years.

Overall Review: B- Improvement in key areas required.

Much of the above was read out to a rapturously lukewarm reception at the Club's Annual Presentation Evening.  Some of the incidents have been "enhanced" for effect and not all the persons mentioned above necessarily refer to people of the same name within the club or otherwise. So there!

No thanks to our sponsors

Hull City's unveiling of the club's new sponsors has caused something of a stir among fans.  Shouldn't they just be grateful they've got someone willing to invest?

Normally when a new kit is unveiled, it's the design that gets the first panning from supporters.  Indeed, a year ago I remember the howls of protest greeting the first Adidas- produced Hull City strip since the days of "Mike Smith's Super Black & Amber Army".

This time around, however, that appears not to be the case.  The general consensus is that the bold black and amber striped affair is a step up from last season's effort.  However, the choice of sponsor appears to have got Tigers fans sharpening their claws.  

Let's ignore the fact that for the first time in their history the Club has gained the backing of an international company and let's not even consider the size of the package, said by Chief Executive Mark Maguire to be "the biggest sponsorship deal in the Club's history in terms of the commercial gain".

Instead, according to many of those voicing their opinions on Twitter, the various City-related message boards and local radio phone-ins, the unveiling of Cash Converters as the new backers is far from being cause for celebration.

Apparently, the image of the Australian company as "glorified loansharks" and one that "encourages people getting fleeced" is not one the club or even the city of Kingston-upon-Hull needs right now (although I must admit to thinking that in its own way, previous sponsors Totesport could also be accused on this second count!).

For my part I can't get too excited about it.  In fact, when you've followed a team previously sponsored by "Twydale Turkeys" (and which also once had "Humberside" emblazoned across its shirts) Cash Converters doesn't seem that bad at all!  Does that make me of low moral fibre?  Maybe so.

At this juncture, I would also venture to point out that had a sponsor of, shall we say, "higher credibility" been unveiled on the new shirt, many of those same people castigating City on their choice of backer may well have been rushing off to Tiger Leisure as soon as they became available.  My bet is that they would have done so without giving a thought for how that shirt actually made it to the store.  Regardless of the sponsors name, the product itself would almost certainly have originated from some Asian "sweat shop" at a cost nowhere near the £40 price tag each adult version will eventually search for.  Is that not being slightly hypocritical?  

In the so-called "beautiful game" of ours you don't have to look very far for real examples of people at the bottom end getting "financially screwed".  Does the addition of another sponsor accused of doing the same in their line of business make such a difference? 
In any case, surely Tigers owner Assem Allam has earned the right to have his judgment on such things trusted given the money he himself has just ploughed into ensuring there was actually a club in the city for Cash Converters to sponsor.  And what if he was head of Cash Converters and not Allam Marine?  Would the fans have said no to his £40M "bail-out" last year?  I doubt it.

Another "tweeter" asked why "locally based big companies" like Smith & Nephew, Reckitts or BP couldn't be the club's main sponsors.  Well, frankly, because they're not interested.  Harsh but true.

Even at local grassroots level, where sponsorship packages are available for a small fraction of the deal currently being publicised at the KC Stadium, backers are hard to come by in these austere times.  I should know - I've spent the past six months trying to secure a new kit deal for our First Team and Reserves without so much as a whiff of interest.

At the end of the day it simply boils down to the likes of Easington United taking whatever crumbs of sponsorship come our way - its our version of what Hull City would term "getting the best deal for the Club".  And Mark Maguire certainly feels he's done that with Cash Converters.  

It's perhaps also worth bearing in mind that not all press associated with our new found sponsor, whose origins were as a single store in Perth, Western Australia back in 1984, is negative.  The company already boasts an association with The Ashes and The FA Cup Final, as well as embracing the excellent "Dreams Come True" as their adopted charity means.  That's not bad company for Hull City AFC to be in, is it?  
Speaking on Radio Humberside, Maguire acknowledged fans' concerns and stated he'd spoken to one of their message board spokesmen (Amber Nectar) to try and allay them.  Whether he has done will only be reflected in the sales figures.

For my part, I'll not buy one but that's nothing to do with the sponsor or the design.  It's simply that I've finally ackowledged that 45 is an age by which one should have grown out of trying to look good in something ultimately designed with somebody twenty years younger in mind! 

Now, if the people at Cash Converters are looking to get involved with a progressive, forward-thinking grassroots football club...

The picture says it all...

Sunday 5th June - Hull KR 17 Hull FC 10

The Elder Slushette's first "East Stand" derby and my first in that part of the ground since FC winger Paul Eastwood's first run down the near touchline was met with a shower of chocolate fudge bars.  We lost that night.  We didn't on Sunday.  The noisy neighbours just got noisier.  No more words are required.

Back where it belongs

Thursday 26th May - South Holderness Cup Final

Skirlaugh (home) Won 7-1

Who remembers how frustrating or disappointing a season has been overall when there's a bit of silverware to put in the cupboard?

Back in the Eighties when I first became involved at Low Farm, I used to laugh at the way that Withernsea, then the biggest and most successful team in the area, regularly glossed over a disappointing "domestic" campaign by trumpeting their annual stroll to victory in the South Holderness Cup.  Cuh, thought I, a team of their size should almost always win the annual end-of-season tournament...unless Hedon were their opponents perhaps.

Little did it occur to me back then that in 2011 people would perhaps be thinking the same of Easington United.  But I'm very pleased they are!

And similar to our rivals up the coast, while winning the South Holderness Cup hasn't been the cure for all the ills of a frustrating season, it certainly gave everybody a lift to take into the close season.

The meaning of the competition to local football fans is outlined to some extent in the previous post (or at least it will be when I get my finger out!).  Indeed Manager Mack has repeatedly told our players his opinion that he regards the cup very much as ours.  A three-year barren run since 2007 would cast some doubt on this assertion!

But having reached the final for the first time in four years, Mack was determined to ensure his players didn't blow their chance. 

They didn't.

To be continued...