With Sixer still on duty it fell to Malcolm Dawson to make the trek to the Stadium of Light on our behalf, and then to report on the last home game of a very trying year. Did he see any harbingers of a better 2018?
John McCormick writes: I’ve just had my card declined when trying to make a donation to the Whitechapel Centre, which helps homeless/rough sleepers in Liverpool. There were no problems when giving to MIND, where I donated in order to support my niece, Ski, who’s running for them every day in January. (Just letting you know, should last week have left you in a generous mood). Fifty years ago such things wouldn’t have concerned me. In contrast, the lineup for this match might have. Now I can’t remember anything about the game.
Malcolm Dawson is occupying Pete’s seat and I believe he’ll be doing the match report tomorrow, as befits someone in such an elevated position. Malcolm sent his seven word summary to M Salut at the final whistle. M Salut, somewhere else in the ground – and possibly in a better seat – forwarded it to me (John Mc, that is), and here it is:
John McCormick writes: I can only remember one game against Fulham, and that was at Craven Cottage, where, like Pete Sixsmith, I enjoyed a walk through the park and a stand that overlooked the river.
Other than that, my mind is its usual blank. Was I at this match (indeed, any home games v Fulham between 1964 and 1974?) I really don’t know, possibly because it was a totally forgettable game. No matter, Saturday’s visit allows Pete and his prodigious memory to provide yet another trip to Roker, where some memorable players graced the sacred turf.
John McCormick writes, I arrived back from Spain (where I’d been able to eat outside) around midnight last night, to find a duff thermostat and a colder house than expected. And then we woke up to snow. Not as much as Pete Lynn, who reported 4 inches where he is, but enough when the heating doesn’t work.
Luckily, Colin or Malcolm had drafted a few words from Pete and this morning, while texting our local plumber, I was able to finish the post with a heartwarming postcript that he’d added while snowbound:
Pete Sixsmith has been given leave of absence in order to carry out his duties with the fair elves of County Durham and the pixies of Jesmond. In his stead we have a little helper – at least littler than he was at the start of the season.
Malcolm Dawson, for it is he, will step up soon with a full match report. Here he is with the seven word instant verdict that follows the final toot of the referee’s whistle, and no doubt the boos of the crowd after we shot ourselves in the foot:
Sixer leaves something special before assuming other duties
John McCormick writes: I hitched the 120 miles home on the Friday, saw an average game, then hitched back down to Uni on the Monday (or it could have been the Sunday) as usual. It was as uneventful a weekend as I remember and I picked up no air of anticipation from the crowd, nor any indication that the club was on the verge of something special.
Pete Sixsmith was living a lot nearer to Roker Park than me, however, and was no doubt more tuned in to the events and the atmosphere surrounding the club. He seems to think there was a bit more going on, and maybe he was right…
Malcolm Dawson writes…..jings it’s cold up in the North East of England this morning. Occupied as he is at this time of year, with sacks of various types, distributing news to the good folk of Shildon and gifts to the children of the populace who flock to see the great man in Weardale and Tyneside at this pre-festive time, Lord Peter Sixsmith, has today delegated the task of reporting on yesterday’s rare, but welcome events in a place where proper pubs survive, where Marstons brew the Burton Union way, where buns are cobs and “arrrl reet marra” is translated as “ay up duck” to one of the underlings who ensure that all goes well at Sixsmith Towers on such a rare occasion. So don your quilted maroon smoking jacket and read on as you tuck into the kedgeree and devilled kidneys …
At half time Pete Sixsmith sent a text to tell us that the pre-match beer was better than the football. I don’t think the second half was much of an improvement but I won’t definitely know until tomorrow, when I read Pete’s post-match report. However, some late changes by our manager saw us get vital goals, which gave us vital points, which moved us off the bottom and sparked a celebration, as Pete’s instant seven-word text explains:
John McCormick writes Burton is one of those places you’re not likely to visit by accident if you live in Liverpool. It’s in between everywhere – to the east and north of the M6 and A5, to the south of the road between Stoke, Derby and Nottingham. It is, just about, on the way from here to Leicester but that’s no good if you’re a Sunderland fan travelling down the M1, which tells you how long it is since I’ve been to Filbert Street.
All this is a great pity, as I’ve always wanted to call in and have a pint at the spiritual home of brewing and I’ve never managed it. Pete Sixsmith has of course, and here he is to tell you all about it.
