Gibbo sent me an email a couple of days after the end of the season. Did I fancy playing a few songs with former Abbey midfielder Mike O’Connor at the players awards do in June?
The answer was: Of course. After all Abbey had entertained me for the best part of nine months so two 45 minute sets of guitar and vocals were the least I could do in return.
So Mike and I got together for a beer and ran through potential songs under the loose banner of Sergeant Gibbo’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. Manchester staple numbers like She Bangs the Drums and This Charming Man were a given as were Beatles hits for the grey-haired lads. After two practises it was starting to sound rather passable.
Come the big night and the club’s large red and black ABBEY HEY 1902 flag was hoisted up as our back drop as club secretary Tony McAllister’s disco got the crowd tapping their feet.
Our first stint went down well. An improvised version of the Inspiral Carpets’ This is How it Feels (to be Abbey) drew a few laughs. It had been one of those seasons.
The awards were dished out between the two sets which saw Liam Murray scoop the Players’ Player of the Year gong and Scott Hardy bag the Manager’s Player of the Year. Scott was unable to be there in person as he was getting married, priorities eh.
Our second set contained a few more sing-along numbers including James Sit Down which Keith on the bar seemed to enjoy immensely.
For our big finale we were joined on stage by Gibbo himself who showed off his guitar work with a hearty rendition of Wonderwall.
Thankfully we left the stage to smiles and handshakes and settled down for a well earned pint.
About half an hour later self-confessed Michael Jackson obsessive and Abbey Hey onion-bagger Sam Jones made his way to the stage and to everyone’s amazement gave a superb rendition of the King of Pop’s Man in the Mirror. His enthusiasm also produced a dance routine that was so powerful it brought the speakers crashing to the floor.
“It was worth it!” cried DJ McAllister as his kit lay in disarray on the function room floor.
A barmy end to a balmy Gorton night.
Saturday, 5 July 2014
Saturday, 26 April 2014
Bacup and Rossendale Borough (NWCFL Premier Division)
So it is, so it goes, so it went. By the time you read this Abbey’s fate will probably be sealed in one way or another.
So what of the club’s first season back in the NWCFL top flight then? Well as it’s been said before in this column, competing in this league has been akin to fighting with one hand tied behind our back.
With star players leaving for the money and our small-but-beautiful gates not delivering enough revenue to match rival clubs on wages it’s been tough. But I tell you what, in spite of the 20 league defeats, the club spirit and never-say-die attitude has been there in abundance on the pitch.
The August home victory over eventual champions Norton United was one to savour as was Sam Jones’ late equaliser seven days later away at Stockport Sports on the Saxons’ plastic pitch.
Runs of defeats that look admittedly worse on paper than they did in person punctuated victories over Curzon Ashton in the Premier Cup and Eccleshall in the league. The latter game saw Kwame Barnett bag a classy hattrick with three quick goals either side of half time.
Games against AFC Liverpool brought two very different matches. The match at their place frustrated and as the ‘scousers lite’ banged in goal number four it proved just that bit too much to take for Abbey’s travelling fans. The season’s definite low point.
The return fixture proved to be a completely different affair however. A well earned two-two draw in a match that came to an end under the floodlights will be remembered for a goal scored by one Desmond Matt Busby Flanagan.
Our self-confessed diehard United fan in the centre of park unleashed his powerful shot in the dying seconds, turned and slid on his knees in celebration in front of a jubilant home bench. A warm moment indeed.
The highlight of the entire campaign though for me was the comeback against Alsager Town. At 2-0 down heads didn’t drop and two well taken Tom Murray penalties brought the game level before captain Des and Eder Ruiz made it four.
Today’s result will either ensure survival or send us back to where we came from. The good news appears to be that, regardless of our fate, Gibbo will be staying on at the helm to continue the good work he started last summer. It’s an uphill struggle being the boss at a club of this size but he does a great job under the circumstances. Let’s just hope he refrains from singing at the players’ awards do in three weeks time.
Have a good summer, Gorton.
So what of the club’s first season back in the NWCFL top flight then? Well as it’s been said before in this column, competing in this league has been akin to fighting with one hand tied behind our back.
With star players leaving for the money and our small-but-beautiful gates not delivering enough revenue to match rival clubs on wages it’s been tough. But I tell you what, in spite of the 20 league defeats, the club spirit and never-say-die attitude has been there in abundance on the pitch.
The August home victory over eventual champions Norton United was one to savour as was Sam Jones’ late equaliser seven days later away at Stockport Sports on the Saxons’ plastic pitch.
Runs of defeats that look admittedly worse on paper than they did in person punctuated victories over Curzon Ashton in the Premier Cup and Eccleshall in the league. The latter game saw Kwame Barnett bag a classy hattrick with three quick goals either side of half time.
Games against AFC Liverpool brought two very different matches. The match at their place frustrated and as the ‘scousers lite’ banged in goal number four it proved just that bit too much to take for Abbey’s travelling fans. The season’s definite low point.
The return fixture proved to be a completely different affair however. A well earned two-two draw in a match that came to an end under the floodlights will be remembered for a goal scored by one Desmond Matt Busby Flanagan.
Our self-confessed diehard United fan in the centre of park unleashed his powerful shot in the dying seconds, turned and slid on his knees in celebration in front of a jubilant home bench. A warm moment indeed.
The highlight of the entire campaign though for me was the comeback against Alsager Town. At 2-0 down heads didn’t drop and two well taken Tom Murray penalties brought the game level before captain Des and Eder Ruiz made it four.
Today’s result will either ensure survival or send us back to where we came from. The good news appears to be that, regardless of our fate, Gibbo will be staying on at the helm to continue the good work he started last summer. It’s an uphill struggle being the boss at a club of this size but he does a great job under the circumstances. Let’s just hope he refrains from singing at the players’ awards do in three weeks time.
Have a good summer, Gorton.
Saturday, 5 April 2014
AFC Blackpool (NWCFL Premier Division)
Today marks the last home game before Easter so this week I’ll be talking quite topically about eggs.
And when I say eggs I really mean egg chasing.
Yes, the Super League rugby season is back again and this time around, at the ripe old age of 33, I’m starting to see the faintest glimpse of what it’s all about.
I already know Abbey website gurus Tim and Paul are big fans as is bartender extraordinaire Keith, who got snapped at a Salford match the other week and found his picture doing the rounds on Twitter.
I normally steer well clear of rugby, mainly down to the bad impression of the game I was treated to at school.
Rugby was on the curriculum but all we wanted to do was play football. We’d duck out of the rugby games until one day we were rounded up and forced to play one game to tick some boxes. That was one game too much.
But it was the St Helens verses Leeds match last week that did it for me. With no football on the box I reluctantly decided to give the top of the table clash a go. And what a game to pick.
In front of a packed ground under intense floodlights the 26 monsters from either side of the Pennines went hell for leather right from the off.
After paying good money to watch United amble through defeats this season, seeing a team put a real shift in is something that can be forgiven if they end up on the losing side as Abbey unfortunately have many times this season.
I’ve left the Abbey Stad on several occasions in 2013/14 thinking: “Good effort but unlucky, lads.”
That same desire and work rate was there from both rugby sides and as the hooter blared out after 40 minutes I was texting my Salford Red Devils season ticket-holding friends asking: “Are you watching this?”
They were and within two hours of the game wrapping up I’d already agreed to go to the match with them over summer. “You’ll love it, they sing reworked versions of United songs. And you can drink.” Sounds good to me.
There’s not a hope in hell that football will be usurped in my heart by the sport with the odd shaped ball but as the warm summer months approach I can quite easily see what could be gained by a day out on the train to Huddersfield for a daft away day.
You never know, I might run into Keith and then who knows what manner of madness could occur.
Happy Easter.
And when I say eggs I really mean egg chasing.
Yes, the Super League rugby season is back again and this time around, at the ripe old age of 33, I’m starting to see the faintest glimpse of what it’s all about.
I already know Abbey website gurus Tim and Paul are big fans as is bartender extraordinaire Keith, who got snapped at a Salford match the other week and found his picture doing the rounds on Twitter.
I normally steer well clear of rugby, mainly down to the bad impression of the game I was treated to at school.
Rugby was on the curriculum but all we wanted to do was play football. We’d duck out of the rugby games until one day we were rounded up and forced to play one game to tick some boxes. That was one game too much.
But it was the St Helens verses Leeds match last week that did it for me. With no football on the box I reluctantly decided to give the top of the table clash a go. And what a game to pick.
In front of a packed ground under intense floodlights the 26 monsters from either side of the Pennines went hell for leather right from the off.
After paying good money to watch United amble through defeats this season, seeing a team put a real shift in is something that can be forgiven if they end up on the losing side as Abbey unfortunately have many times this season.
I’ve left the Abbey Stad on several occasions in 2013/14 thinking: “Good effort but unlucky, lads.”
That same desire and work rate was there from both rugby sides and as the hooter blared out after 40 minutes I was texting my Salford Red Devils season ticket-holding friends asking: “Are you watching this?”
They were and within two hours of the game wrapping up I’d already agreed to go to the match with them over summer. “You’ll love it, they sing reworked versions of United songs. And you can drink.” Sounds good to me.
There’s not a hope in hell that football will be usurped in my heart by the sport with the odd shaped ball but as the warm summer months approach I can quite easily see what could be gained by a day out on the train to Huddersfield for a daft away day.
You never know, I might run into Keith and then who knows what manner of madness could occur.
Happy Easter.
Tuesday, 18 March 2014
Congleton Town (NWCFL Premier Division)
It was June 2005 and the much-vilified Glazer family had just completed their hostile takeover of my beloved Manchester United Football Club. Despite organised protests and share buy-ups, the man on the street ultimately had nothing on the borrowed millions mustered up by the US tycoons and the unpopular deal was allowed to go through. We felt helpless and resigned to defeat.
I was living near Old Trafford at the time in a small flat above a bakery. Towards the end of a remarkably sunny week I received a text message which simply read: "Flashmob. Mary D's, Beswick. Tomorrow. 11am."
Now as blues reading this will know, Mary D’s is the closest pub to the Etihad Stadium and on a match day is probably the busiest in the area. So what on earth was a close-season Saturday morning flashmob of United fans going to be getting up to? I was intrigued.
I arrived at the pub for half ten and there must have been 40 smartly dressed lads in there already throwing back pints of strong lager as if it were a match day. No one had a clue what we were there for.
At 11am a lad who would eventually go onto be an FC United board member arrived and told us what he had planned. UEFA were holding a meeting in an office on the second floor of City's main stand and the goal was to interrupt it to voice our concern about the debt-laden takeover and it's implications. A tall order I thought.
Nevertheless we set off in a loose trail and walked through the double glass doors of City's main entrance like it was the most natural thing on Earth. The security guard behind the desk looked puzzled. "Are you lads here for the stewards jobs?" he asked. "Yes mate," came the reply. "You want the third floor." He was completely clueless.
As we arrived on the second floor you could already feel the glare from the TV lighting from out in the corridor. It was now or never and in we went.
The startled UEFA party were assembled around a long table with expensive looking bottles of water, laptops and A4 sheets of paper littering its surface.
A representative from the influential United fanzine Red Issue announced who we were and what we wanted to achieve as the rest of us stood almost theatrically in a long line against a wall. Two spooked delegates made for the door. They were stopped in their tracks.
After a tense five minutes in which we assured UEFA’s big wigs that we weren’t terrorists and merely just concerned football fans, a rep from the Independent Manchester United Supporters Association and a rep from Shareholders United were granted a private audience in one of the smaller meeting rooms.
When they left to begin talks the atmosphere in the room suddenly became a lot more relaxed. First over was a portly southern Sky Sports News camera man in shorts and T-shirt. "How the fack did you lot get in here?!" he asked in astonishment. Next up was the German delegate, an elegant middle age woman. "I think all this is brilliant," she said with a smile.
When the talks had finished we retreated to Mary D's beer garden to celebrate a job well done. After about 20 minutes my phone rang. It was my dad. "I know where you are," he said. "You're in a pub in the vicinity of City's ground. Your mate Paddy has just been on Sky Sports News talking about the Glazers."
It may have amounted to a wasp sting on the backside of an elephant in the long run but at the time we felt a hundred feet tall.
Some weeks later I received another text asking whether I fancied crashing another UEFA meeting, this time in Geneva with all flights paid for. It was tempting for a second but leaving my job to start a career as a continental flashmobber was possibly that bit too flash for me.
I was living near Old Trafford at the time in a small flat above a bakery. Towards the end of a remarkably sunny week I received a text message which simply read: "Flashmob. Mary D's, Beswick. Tomorrow. 11am."
Now as blues reading this will know, Mary D’s is the closest pub to the Etihad Stadium and on a match day is probably the busiest in the area. So what on earth was a close-season Saturday morning flashmob of United fans going to be getting up to? I was intrigued.
I arrived at the pub for half ten and there must have been 40 smartly dressed lads in there already throwing back pints of strong lager as if it were a match day. No one had a clue what we were there for.
At 11am a lad who would eventually go onto be an FC United board member arrived and told us what he had planned. UEFA were holding a meeting in an office on the second floor of City's main stand and the goal was to interrupt it to voice our concern about the debt-laden takeover and it's implications. A tall order I thought.
Nevertheless we set off in a loose trail and walked through the double glass doors of City's main entrance like it was the most natural thing on Earth. The security guard behind the desk looked puzzled. "Are you lads here for the stewards jobs?" he asked. "Yes mate," came the reply. "You want the third floor." He was completely clueless.
As we arrived on the second floor you could already feel the glare from the TV lighting from out in the corridor. It was now or never and in we went.
The startled UEFA party were assembled around a long table with expensive looking bottles of water, laptops and A4 sheets of paper littering its surface.
A representative from the influential United fanzine Red Issue announced who we were and what we wanted to achieve as the rest of us stood almost theatrically in a long line against a wall. Two spooked delegates made for the door. They were stopped in their tracks.
After a tense five minutes in which we assured UEFA’s big wigs that we weren’t terrorists and merely just concerned football fans, a rep from the Independent Manchester United Supporters Association and a rep from Shareholders United were granted a private audience in one of the smaller meeting rooms.
When they left to begin talks the atmosphere in the room suddenly became a lot more relaxed. First over was a portly southern Sky Sports News camera man in shorts and T-shirt. "How the fack did you lot get in here?!" he asked in astonishment. Next up was the German delegate, an elegant middle age woman. "I think all this is brilliant," she said with a smile.
When the talks had finished we retreated to Mary D's beer garden to celebrate a job well done. After about 20 minutes my phone rang. It was my dad. "I know where you are," he said. "You're in a pub in the vicinity of City's ground. Your mate Paddy has just been on Sky Sports News talking about the Glazers."
It may have amounted to a wasp sting on the backside of an elephant in the long run but at the time we felt a hundred feet tall.
Some weeks later I received another text asking whether I fancied crashing another UEFA meeting, this time in Geneva with all flights paid for. It was tempting for a second but leaving my job to start a career as a continental flashmobber was possibly that bit too flash for me.
Saturday, 8 February 2014
Barnoldswick Town (NWCFL Premier Division)
“Three hours? Three hours?!”
Mrs Mager was a bit shocked when she discovered the running time of black comedy The Wolf of Wall Street. It was a tad longer than the typical 90 minute’ers she’s used to but previous Martin Scorsese and Leonardo DiCaprio collaborations have form for this. And if I’m being completely honest, the time literally flew.
The picture charts the real-life rise and fall of ambitious New York stockbroker Jordan Belfort (DiCaprio) and for the entire duration we are treated to a visual whirlwind of nineties excess as Belfort and his mates bring new meaning to the phrase ‘work hard play hard’.
Dwarves, candles, monkeys and even goldfish all feature among the gang’s high-jinx in a drug-fuelled world of sex and crooked deals. Belfort even pays one of his employees a cool $10,000 to shave her head provided she spends the money on a boob job. Rum but fascinating.
Our own Joanna Lumley makes a decent cameo appearance as one of Belfort’s in-laws but the best supporting actor in the whole production is Jonah Hill who lines up alongside DiCaprio as odd sidekick Donnie Azoff. Younger readers will recognize Hill from right-of-passage teen comedy Superbad.
The aspiring actor’s desire to work with legend Scorsese saw him pocket just $60,000 while DiCaprio walked away with a cool $10million. On the strength of this Oscar-nomination performance though it was probably the best career move he ever made.
As it’s all based on a real life story the film inevitably turns serious when the FBI decides to wage war on Belfort’s crooked empire and attempts to bring him down. The game of cat and mouse that ensues is superb.
Scorsese’s triumph in my eyes is in engaging the viewer with a world of extremely shallow unlikable characters. He certainly has a knack of making you root for the bad guy. So if there’s one film you see this year then make a date with The Wolf. You’ll be howling.
Saturday, 25 January 2014
Bootle (NWCFL Premier Division)
“When's the right time to judge David Moyes? Now? Three months ago? End of the season? End of next season I think...”
Abbey gaffer Luke Gibson’s tweet on Wednesday night was extremely telling. He of all people knows first hand what is involved in following in the managerial footsteps of a club legend. When Sir Alex Ferguson called time on his Manchester United career last May so did successful Abbey boss Barrie Walker. Both men left on a relative high. Fergie by winning his club a record 20th league title and Walker leading his team to a well deserved promotion and a cup final.
Manchester United and Abbey Hey may be a million miles away from each other in football terms but with both clubs having replaced successful retiring managers with younger candidates there are a few parallels that can be drawn between Gibson and Moyes at the minute.
First off it is fair to say that the two men received something of a hospital ball when taking up the reins. In Moyes’ case he inherited a squad that had overachieved under Ferguson and was in need of some major surgery. In Gibson’s it was the vultures of the North West Counties Football League that posed a problem. By waving wads of cash at Gibbo’s star men, paying clubs scuppered any chance of Abbey’s talented team of youngsters from realising their potential. In just a matter of weeks the dynamic class of 2013 side that Barrie Walker had nurtured and moulded was unfairly torn apart.
Secondly both managers have approached their new positions with a long term view in mind and a commitment to continue to place trust in young talent. At Old Trafford Moyes has thrown Belgian starlet Adnan Januzaj into the action at every opportunity. His faith has been repaid as among his side’s up-and-down performances, Januzaj’s have been the ones that have consistently stood out. At the AbbeyStad too we have seen Gibson give the nod to up to three or four home grown players at a time in an attempt to acclimatise them to life in the Premier Division.
Results so far have been mixed for both bosses with each recording slightly more defeats than they would have liked. But to suggest either man is any where close to being on the ropes at this stage is utter lunacy. The hierarchy and fans at both clubs recognise the size of the task that lies ahead and have given the pair a solid platform on which to work their magic.
The problem is that we live in an impatient world where instant success and fame is expected without realising that sometimes things just take time. Luckily in the cases of Gibson and Moyes that is exactly what they have. I wish them well.
Abbey gaffer Luke Gibson’s tweet on Wednesday night was extremely telling. He of all people knows first hand what is involved in following in the managerial footsteps of a club legend. When Sir Alex Ferguson called time on his Manchester United career last May so did successful Abbey boss Barrie Walker. Both men left on a relative high. Fergie by winning his club a record 20th league title and Walker leading his team to a well deserved promotion and a cup final.
Manchester United and Abbey Hey may be a million miles away from each other in football terms but with both clubs having replaced successful retiring managers with younger candidates there are a few parallels that can be drawn between Gibson and Moyes at the minute.
First off it is fair to say that the two men received something of a hospital ball when taking up the reins. In Moyes’ case he inherited a squad that had overachieved under Ferguson and was in need of some major surgery. In Gibson’s it was the vultures of the North West Counties Football League that posed a problem. By waving wads of cash at Gibbo’s star men, paying clubs scuppered any chance of Abbey’s talented team of youngsters from realising their potential. In just a matter of weeks the dynamic class of 2013 side that Barrie Walker had nurtured and moulded was unfairly torn apart.
Secondly both managers have approached their new positions with a long term view in mind and a commitment to continue to place trust in young talent. At Old Trafford Moyes has thrown Belgian starlet Adnan Januzaj into the action at every opportunity. His faith has been repaid as among his side’s up-and-down performances, Januzaj’s have been the ones that have consistently stood out. At the AbbeyStad too we have seen Gibson give the nod to up to three or four home grown players at a time in an attempt to acclimatise them to life in the Premier Division.
Results so far have been mixed for both bosses with each recording slightly more defeats than they would have liked. But to suggest either man is any where close to being on the ropes at this stage is utter lunacy. The hierarchy and fans at both clubs recognise the size of the task that lies ahead and have given the pair a solid platform on which to work their magic.
The problem is that we live in an impatient world where instant success and fame is expected without realising that sometimes things just take time. Luckily in the cases of Gibson and Moyes that is exactly what they have. I wish them well.
Saturday, 11 January 2014
Wigan Robin Park (NWCFL Premier Division)
Just behind the clubhouse side of this ground is a cycle path. I’m sure many of you are familiar with it. The lad who sometimes cycles to the match with his missus almost certainly is. I’ve become very familiar with it of late as I’ve developed a completely unexpected love of life on two wheels. Let me tell you how it started.
We were visiting friends in Dalston, north London, a few weeks ago. We’d been on the beer all day and had had a nice curry to round things off. At about 1am we were sitting about with a few can of Red Stripe listening to music when one bright spark came up with an idea. A bike ride. Now. Around London.
We thought he was joking but as others piped up and voiced their enthusiasm the absurd proposal suddenly became very real. Three slightly worse-for-wear lads on the wrong side of 30 were soon pulling bikes out of a shed and heading out onto the road without helmets or lights.
I went mental quoting alarming statistics of London cycling casualties but my warning fell on deaf ears. Two hours later they returned having covered some 30-odd kilometeres and visited all the main tourist spots. Photographs of the pissed up trio on London Bridge confirmed this. I was livid but also a tiny bit jealous.
Relaying this tale to my old man a few weeks later he pointed out that he had a bike that was gathering dust in his garage. It was a Peugeot racer that hadn’t been out in ten years. I was welcome to borrow it. Having not been out on a bike myself in over 20 years I was apprehensive. But after some careful planning and the purchase of a few cheap cycling accessories I set out on the aforementioned cycle path also known as The Fallowfield Loop.
And what a ride it is. A thin eight-mile linier park stretching from Gorton in the east all the way to Chorlton in the west. The gateway to south Manchester if you will and a leafy world away from red brick madness. I find myself on it most weekends and by the time you read this I’ll have probably already done a good 30km.
If you’ve access to a bike then why not give it a go. I recommend getting on at either Abbey Hey or Ryder Brow and heading west towards Fallowfield. Come off at St Werburgh’s Road Metrolink station in Chorlton and head through the four banks in central Chorlton onto Manchester Road, down Kensington Road towards Stretford.
From there you’re in easy reach of cycle-friendly Old Trafford and Manchester’s stunning waterfront at Salford Quays with all its attractions. Last week’s ride took me to the Imperial War Museum North. A world class museum that costs nothing, save for a donation, to visit.
With parts of this year’s Tour de France taking in the north of England there’s never been a better time to be showing an interest in pedal pushing. I draw the line though at wraparound sunglasses.
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