Home and hosed: Denys Smith (left) and Brian Fletcher welcome back the winner
Redcar perpetually tries. Station Road alone has five micropubs – five micropubs and a coffee shop. First impressions.
The absurd vertical pier, conversely, seems never to have taken off, vertically or otherwise, these days only open during school holidays and even then, says a notice, “subject to bad weather”.
It’s possible they mean “subject to good weather”.
Today’s pretty windy, a bit squally. En route to Redcar Town v Ryton and Crawcrook Albion, I look for a pre-match livener into the Lobster, a Sam Smith’s house said to be the town’s oldest pub.
Sam’s being who they are, a notice advises that it’s a “digital detox pub” and that the use of mobile phones and the like is forbidden. Whisper it not to Mr Humphrey, but it’s still possible to sneak a look, to learn the score from the early kick-off at St James’ Park and to rejoice that St Totteringham’s Day grows ever more imminent.
*It’s also Grand National day, of course, a subject to which we shall return. A bloke in the bar is adamant that there were once horses called Mary Hinge and Betty Swollocks and that he won a small fortune at 30-1 on the former. “You’re not to do that any more” he adds, perhaps unnecessarily. Were they ever?
*The pitch at Mo Mowlam Park has been subject to a 10 30am inspection. That it passed is chiefly due to team manager Gareth Maidens, there since 6 30am removing water.
“He’s shifted about sixty thingies” says the gateman, and whatever a thingy equals in imperial measure it’s clear that Mr Maidens is a top, top bloke.
Town’s set-up is great, always something new, their season disappointing – fourth bottom with just ten wins from 36 games before today and an average attendance a smidgeon under 100. They deserve much better.
Consolation may be found in the Ebac Northern League’s latest goal scoring stats, released yesterday, in which Town’s Carl Williams is rated joint third with 26 behind Levi Collins of Jarrow with 31 and Ryton’s Aaron Costello on 30.
It’s a bit of a puzzle, that, since the programme reckons he’s only scored 11, and itemises them. We’ve sought clarification.
About 25 minutes have passed before young Williams adds a 27th, or 12th as the case may be, though nowhere near as memorably as Town’s second a few minutes later, scored by 17-year-old Jonathan Algie.
Young Algie, known thereabouts as Jono and improbably sponsored by Saltburn Blues Club, is the goalie – only in the side because of an injury to his elder brother and fellow custodian Mike. Carried by the wind, his clearance carries capriciously, bounces elliptically and sails sumptuously into the opposite net. The celebrations are ecstatic.
At half-time I assure that great Ryton stalwart (and former Northern League referee) Don McLeod that, wind assisted, his side will score five in the second period. They manage just one. It’s an ill wind that blows no one any good.
*What on earth’s been going on at Heaton Stannington v North Shields? “Red card for slaughter following an off-the-ball incident” says the Stan website, at once conjuring visions of unprecedented mayhem even by present standards. No undue cause for alarm, this proves to be Richard Slaughter, sent off after just six minutes. Careful with the capitals next time, boys.
*Ryton’s team has included brothers Callum and Scott Oldfield. Keith,their dad, very kindly gives me a lift back to Darlington and conversation returns to the Grand National.
Keith, a great stalwart of Bishop Auckland Cricket Club, is this evening attending a reunion at Kirk Merrington – a few miles away – of former stable lads of neighbouring trainers Denys Smith and Arthur Stephenson, he who memorably supposed that little fish were sweet.
I didn’t really know Stivvie, but Denys Smith was a smashing, unassuming chap who, unforgettably for a wet-eared reporter based in Bishop, trained Red Alligator, home at 100-7 in the 1968 National, ridden by 19-year-old local lad Brian Fletcher and owned by local builder Jack Manners.
Bishop welcomed them back with a parade down the main street, wholly reminiscent and no less thronged than those heroes’ returns with the FA Amateur Cup a decade or so earlier.
Not half a mile from Denys’s stables, they named a pub in Red Alligator’s honour. Denys was a regular, as he was at the magnificent St Andrew’s church out the back.
Lovely man, he had something of Stivvie’s philosophy. “Don’t forget I’m also all-time leading trainer at Sedgefield, Catterick and Redcar” he’d reply when reminded, once again, of Aintree.
He died in 2016, my obituary inevitably affectionate but missing a key detail observed by The Times. Denys, it said, would always hold the door open for a lady. The old English gentleman was 92.
Grass Routes 