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View From The Cemetery - October 2012 - 2

Submitted by Ghostly Gadgie on Friday, 19 October 2012

Sorry if I offended anybody with my remarks the other day. For the avoidance of doubt let me confirm my outright admiration for all Northern League clubs and especially the ones in Ryhope, and my fervent desire to see, or at least listen to, a Ryhope derby sometime soon, and very hopefully next season. Blimey, you have to be careful....

So a tale of one swinging axe and two Bishops this past week, sounds like something from Henry VIII's time! Rollickings all round post the Hebburn malarkey, exit doors shown and signings made, but still short handed when we manage to keep the old indian sign going over Bishop Auckland, and this time in the Vase. Somewhat against the run of play seems to be the general conclusion. But who cares? A cup win at last! The dizzy heights of the last 128 no less. Well done indeed. But then a bit of a funny old night back at their place straight after, with some rum goings on and no mistake or so I am led to believe. Well, these things are sent to try us, and referees are only human and can make mistakes same as anybody else. And stand in goallies are notoriously unpredictable, and always save things with their legs; or backsides usually. And Bishops do seem to be having an extraordinary time with keepers, they are looking for number five now, or so they reckon after our bold boys punished dropped balls in a rather physical fashion the other night to leave number four a bit the worse for wear.
 
Keepers eh? No wonder they are eccentrics, when they so often get their noses rearranged and their brains scrambled. And there have been some right crackerjacks over the years. We had one once on a Sunday morning who never caught a cross in his career, usually stood and watched without moving while any shot from outside the box flew into the net, but was just about unbeatable from inside six yards. He wore the same boots, not a matching pair and held together with tape, for at least 15 years. They always fell apart at some point in the match and he played a lot of games effectively in his stocking feet, while complaining his feet were wet. He never had any money, but always managed to be in about six rounds back at the pub, and got thrown out of the house at least once a week. Canny lad Jimmy mind....