I love to plonk my backside in the Larwood and Voce Stand at Trent Bridge. It may not give you a bird's eye view of proceedings, but it's full of proper old school characters. One or two haven't quite adjusted to or grasped our modern, politically correct society. There was a brilliant example of this the other evening, during a T20 Vitality Blast quarter-final, versus Middlesex.
It was a bitterly chilly Thursday evening and T20 legend, Eoin Morgan, had just hit a six into orbit (North Bridgford). A small gathering of Middlesex supporters, sat a few rows in front of me, who had clearly been on the sauce all day, are dancing and celebrating to some techno music that's blaring out of the PA system - think it was the Dutch band 2 Unlimited. Anyhow, some lass, dressed from head to toe in pink Middlesex attire, is gyrating wildly to the music. It catches the attention of a Sky TV cameraman, who beams it to all their subscribers around the world.
The young lady enjoys the adulation and milks the rapturous applause of an amused crowd. She sits down to a standing ovation. There are a few seconds of silence before the next ball is bowled. The bloke behind me shouts out loudly to the 'dancer' "sit down you tit," I still have tears in my eyes from belly-aching laughter, as I walk down London Road, an hour later, whilst celebrating a ten-wicket victory.
I've not been over to my home village of Keyworth in ages. Football gives me the excuse to visit my old patch twice this week. I cycle down the Trent with the Big Man on Wednesday before another chippy tea at the Ruddington Fish Bar. I arrive at the ground just in time for the 7:30 p.m kick off.
I coached a fair few of the Keyworth Ressies team last season, so it means a lot to me that many of the lads make a fuss of me. Steve Cullis, the manager, is a great lad. He has shuffled his pack this evening, making five changes, despite dishing out a 5-0 drubbing to top of the table Bingham last Saturday.
'The Keyworth Georgie Best' (my lad) hasn't taken the news too well that he's been 'rested' for tonight's game - all police leave has been cancelled. PC Malik has been drafted in from long term sick and is on foot patrol. It's best I don't talk to him for an hour or so, whilst he calms down. There would have been a Tasmanian Devil moment when the news was broken to him - I actually liked it, as a manager, when a player got cross when they were left out of the starting line-up - it shows that they really care. The same when they are subbed and won't look you in the eye.
Ruddington Village Res are tonight's visitors. My young development team did a proper smash and grab job on their turf last season. We celebrated in their Parish, late into the night - think I'm still banned from the Keyworth Tavern after a Gincident the same evening. It didn't go down too well when the Landlord announced that they had run out of ice and lemon - I was knee-deep into a seven-hour session at the time. To be fair I did ring the following day to apologise.
The game ends in a 2-2 draw. Keyworth nearly snatch victory in the dying embers of the game. Ruddington are an angry lot and their own worst enemy. Their ill-discipline cost them the League title last season. There are some cynical, pre-meditated late tackles. A strong referee acts accordingly.
Friday 13th strikes early for Sticky Palms. My computer has more updates than Sky Sports News. It deprives me of 45 minutes laptop time. At least I don't have to read some of the cringe-worthy posts on LinkedIn - I much prefer the twitter account called the State of LinkedIn.
I'm back in Keyworth again, minus the chippy tea. Big guns, Cotgrave Colliery Welfare are in town against the Green Army First Team. Ian Marley has bought into youth. Three of the starting line-up are teenagers. An excellent 16-page programme is available - groundhoppers love a programme. Some have been known to about-turn at the gate if one isn't available.
Keyworth take the lead just shy of half-time through a Jake Fisher strike. Fisher scores again following some Champagne football. A lacklustre Cotgrave pull a goal back with their Big Cheese Lee Potts converting a spot-kick. Potts is well shackled by teenage centre-back Dan Hunter. A thoroughly deserved third goal by 'Chadders' puts the game to bed. The Cotgrave twitter account are bitterly disappointed, calling the performance 'unacceptable' and promising to step up their recruitment drive.
It's Saturday morning. I've got to confess that 'Fatty Palms' went to the chippy again last night. The Carlton Fryer being the latest beneficiary. Ms Moon and I are on the road by 8:30 a.m. after filling up with diesel and coffee in Netherfield.
We both like Dermot O'Leary on Radio 2. And let me tell you, folks, 'Dermo' is on flames this very morning. Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds, Primal Scream and Electronic are the pick of the bunch. Special guest David Walliams has razor-sharp wit too. I suffer in silence to Graham Norton - the music is bloomin' awful.
The three-hour journey up to the historic, seaside town of Tynemouth is without incident. We park close to the Monastery and take a stroll down the North Pier. It's a beautiful autumnal day. We watch a fisherman skillfully reel in a 3lb cod - he poses for the camera. Ms Moon's favourite band is Duran Duran. She gets excited when I casually drop out that guitarist Andy Taylor was born in the town.
Lunch is spent at the highly recommended Longsands Fish Kitchen on Front Street (thanks again John Harris). We're full to the brim after wolfing down haddock and cod. Hopefully, 20,000 steps should burn off some calories. I had a Monkey 47 gin too. There's a scary moment in the restaurant when a small boy starts choking on his food. Customers rush to help his Dad. Thankfully the youngster clears his throat of the offending item.
The town is alive with folk visiting before the winter shut down. We have a mosey around The Wine Chambers, where I snaffle up 75cl of Pickering's gin at a bargain £26 per bottle. I peg it up to the giant statue of Lord Collingwood, complete with four cannons. The view down the coastline is stunning and breathtaking.
North Shields is a town on the north bank of the River Tyne, eight miles north-east of Newcastle. Its population is 35,000. The town is well known for its shipyards and fishing. Footballers Michael Bridges and Steve Watson were both born in the town, as was Pet Shop Boys singer Neil Tennant.
The Robins were founded in 1896 and play at the Darren Persson Stadium. We saw them a few years ago away at Whitley Bay, when former Aston Villa and Blackburn attacking midfielder Graham Fenton was the manager. £6 on the gate is great value as is £1.50 for another cracking programme.
Ms Moon pops into Robins Nest to get some much-needed bottles of water following the fish 'n chip lunch. I ask her to enquire if the one-armed Irish pot washer, Albert, from the 70s sitcom Robin's Nest is on duty - it draws a blank expression. I admire the tree-lined ground and the pristine condition of the pitch. Table-topping Hebburn Town are today's visitors.
I'm in a short-sleeved shirt, minus the jacket, as uninterrupted sunshine is forecast. I should have known better up here as the sun is replaced with clouds and a stiff breeze, which spoils the first half. North Shields fail to take advantage of the wind and fall behind to a well-worked goal from the visitors.
We've been chatting to some Hebburn supporters; they're are so friendly, and invite us to their ground, One of them is the Dad of the visiting 'keeper. He's a lovely bloke, who's immersed in the Non-League game, since not renewing his Newcastle United season ticket following the disgraceful sacking of Sir Bobby Robson..
Hebburn up the gears in the second half, using the wind to gain an advantage. North Shields are plucky and pull a goal back, but the visitors finally run out as 5-1 victors.
Attendance: 364
Man of the Match: Nick Cassidy RB, North Shields. Class.
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