King for the day: Si King (right) talks to Wilf Tray. See below
Remember that Norwegian bloke’s extraordinarily ecstatic reaction when their boys beat England back in 1981?
“Lord Nelson, Lord Beaverbrook, Sir Winston Churchill, Sir Anthony Eden, Clement Attlee, Henry Cooper, Lady Diana….Maggie Thatcher, can you hear me? Your boys took a hell of a beating.” The Observer Sport magazine 21 years later named it the best bit of commentary of all time.
If you can’t beat them, there’ve been since then any amount of what might be termed tribute acts, including a reprise on one of the rare occasions on which we won the Ashes – Kylie Minogue, Crocodile Dundee and Mr Mangel (whoever he is) among those exuberantly cited.
Nothing, however, may compare to the broadcast euphoria when two goals deep into extra time gave Stranraer a 3-1 victory over East Kilbride in Saturday’s Scottish League survival play-offs. Google Stranraer Live TV for a 15-minute extract.
Already co-commentators Laurence King and Brian Martin were getting a bit – you know – excitable and excitable wearing Wigtownshire brogues. When it’s all over, however, Brian Martin’s almost incoherently exultant.
Ally McCoist’s cited, Lorraine Kelly’s cited, Kirsty Young’s cited. None may hail from Stranraer, or East Kilbride for that matter, none may care. It’s wonderful television.
We’ve been following Stranraer’s progress, it may be recalled, because 73-year-old Alex Smith – who lives near Durham and plays agelessly for the Measdowfied Leisure Centre’s over 50s five-a-side team – is a Wigtownshire lwho travels 17,000 miles a season to games home and away – until Saturday.
On Saturday, as yesterday’s blog noted, he was on a three-line whip to attend a family wedding. Sympathies may be distilled with the realisation that the wedding was in Portugal, which may be a bit more clement than Stranraer even on a fine May day – but it could never, ever, have been as exciting.
*While Stranraer strathspeyed, I was watching cricket at Shildon – wholly unaware that, not a mile up the road, the Shildon Shindig was unfurling at the Dean Street football ground.
Among those who did make it was Si King, the Hairy Biker, interviewed for Shildon TV by Wilf Tray – who’s very good at these things – on the spot where the post-match manager usually holds forth.
Mr King seems a very affable chap, too, reminds me of someone – possibly Garry Gibson – is asked if hitherto he’d ever heard of Shildon. “Of course I had. They built locomotives and things” he says.
Wilf says he can hardly boil an egg, would do the washing up only they have a machine, wonders if Si knows how to get egg of the ceiling. Probably not the sort of thing he’d asked the manager.
A favourite pub? The Feathers at Heddon-on-the-Wall, says Si, “great beer, great menu, great people.”
*I’m back at Shildon today, chiefly to follow Timothy Hackworth’s footsteps in joining worship at the Methodist Church – a book’s in the offing. A bonus, the fair overflows the football pitch at the bottom of the Rec.
There are Greek and Chinese food outlets, a New York Diner, a van called Fat Frank’s. Whether Si King and his late partner would have patronised them is unknown.
Perhaps on the basis that what goes around comes around, things may not have changed much in the fairground world. Still it’s possible to hook a duck, to be a super waltzer, to try to demolish a stack of tins cans or to claim a prize every time.
What’s chiefly changed are the prices. A go on the dodgems is £4, three cars for a tenner.
There’s no longer a caterpillar, the hidden high point of teenage romance back in the age of innocence, nor goldfish in polythene bags. No doubt they’ll be back on the Rec next year – as someone once observed, the shows must go on.
*….and finally, Dan Harden – our man in Kansas – spots the licence plate above on his way back from the bakery. “A double rarity, claims to Arsenal in Kansas and to see a licence plate from the great state of Alaska.”
The middle letter may suggest a misspelling, but it’s an opportunity – despite continued chaffing from Mr Oliver Cromwell – to acknowledge a great Gunners season, just one point fewer than the Invincibles.
Congratulations to Man City. Bless him, the late and lovely Martin Haworth would have been delighted.
Grass Routes 