Archive for the ‘Yorkshire’ Category

For trips to the UK, always start with the Lake District.

Wait for me.

wait for me

Check the walls.

Typical northern dwelling and evening fayre ūüėČ

It’ll need a big coil ‘oil…

Hallowed be thy game.

Scraping a pre-season 2-2 draw against the mighty Glossop North End.

The masses have braved Woodhead Pass for this feast of football. 

Should probably take the kids to the smoke. St. Pancras has scrubbed up well.

Interesting use of space. But is it art? No, it’s just the way in to Tate Modern.

Nice doggy.

Crossing the river in 45 minutes. Feels like a millennium.

Is Liz back?

Just one more visit.

South Yorkshire.

It’s a state of mind.


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August fust – Yorkshire Day ageean.

Fuh this un, thuz mooah chance ter celibrate. This year, tha kun ‚Äėoist t’flag in thi own back yard un nobbdi kun do owt abart it.

Int UK, t’Flag Institoot regulates wot flags tha kun raise wiart evvin ter ask fuh plannin permission.

Up ter nar, t’iconic white rose ont blue backgrarnd wornt reco’nized us un official flag.

But nar, aftuh a Sproxton bloke kicked up a fuss a few year aguh, thev gid in. Bart time un all.

Ah woh lucky enough ter spend a month in God’s Own County this summuh.

Tha cahnt beet it can tha?

Sing t’anthem wi a bit uh pride!

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Tomorrow marks Barnsley’s return to the semi-final of the FA Cup. They will meet Cardiff City at Wembley.

Except that it doesn’t really feel like a return. The last time they progressed to this stage was 1912. So, unless any ageing Barnsley fans also have dim and distant memories of seeing the Titanic sail tragically forth from Southampton, this is the first time for all of us.

You might then call Barnsley’s appearance in this season’s FA Cup semi-final a once-in-a-lifetime event.¬†Except, of¬†course,¬†that most people don’t see their 96th birthday. We’d better make the most of it.

After a cup run including stunning victories against two¬†of the Big Four, Liverpool at Anfield and Chelsea back home at Oakwell, Barnsley have suddenly achieved global recognition. In FA Cup terms, this is our Halley’s Comet year. Not every Barnsley fan gets one.

The big question is this: FA Cup glory or Championship survival?

Barnsley are currently flirting dangerously with relegation to the third tier of English football. This has provoked the customary debate for teams in such a position. 

Which would you prefer? A day of historically-etched  glory in the final at Wembley or surviving the drop to fight for another season in the Championship.

For me, it’s simple: Take the run and cup.

I understand the view that Championship survival is the pragmatic option, that this would maintain the club’s financial stability, and that Barnsley have undergone enough monetary turbulence in the past decade thank you very much.

But I couldn’t give a proverbially flying one.

This may seem short-termist and blinkered. But I don’t believe it is.

The FA Cup is the oldest football competition in the world. Since its inception in 1871-1872, only eight teams from outside the top level of English football have won the competition. Three of these occasions (including Barnsley’s sole victory) were before the first world war. The last time “an outsider” won was 28 years ago when West Ham beat Arsenal.

More ominously, since the Premiership began in 1992, the FA Cup has been dominated by the so-called Big Four of English football: Manchester United, Liverpool, Arsenal, and Chelsea. Only Everton, hardly minnows themselves, have broken the monopoly.

In other words, to hell with relegation. This will not be happening again for a long long time. Enjoy the ride. Carpe diem. Ma√Īana is ma√Īana

So, I say: Take the run and cup.

An FA Cup final appearance, let alone a victory, would solidify into Barnsley memories and folklore as an immense cultural monument.

Mere Championship survival falls well short of epic cultural significance. In the long term, Barnsley would likely return to the Championship within a few years. After all, no other team has spent so many seasons in the second tier. So, fear not, relegation is not the end of the world. In any case, many of us fondly recall the days when a mere couple of thousand people turned out in the early seventies for Division Four entertainment.

But what’s this talk of cultural¬†importance?¬†Time was when I might have subscribed to the view that the world of football constituteth not art and culture. But I was wrong. You want drama, grandiose opera, blasted-heath tragedy, or the soul of a people laid bare? It’s right there: down on the pitch and high¬†in the stadium.

The town of Barnsley has a population of 72, 000 people. This Sunday afternoon, 33,000 Barnsley fans will converge on Wembley for the FA Cup semi-final against Cardiff City. It will be an unforgettable occasion. They will remember it for the rest of their lives. Football is not really about the players, who come and go, but the fans, who stay through thick and thin. For Barnsley fans, this generally means more thin. But, as art also shows us, the greater the agony, the greater the potential ecstasy.

Witness this momentous cellphone clip as Barnsley score the last-ditch winner at Liverpool during the three minutes of stoppage time.

Cut to¬†1:55 minutes for the ungiven penalty kick reaction. Then at 2:11, a lone voice urges “Go on Brian”, followed by a split second of mass silent disbelief. Next,¬†incredulous delirium kicks in at the sight of Brian Howard’s strike barelling into the Liverpool net.

It’s a cracking night out, but you never ever get this at La Scala.

We’re going to Wembley. Come on you Reds.

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In 1982, an army of 17,000 was mobilized over the mist-clad Pennine mountains to be deployed in Anfield, home of the mighty Liverpool Football Club. The fans of Barnsley FC were rewarded with a gutsy 0-0 draw.

Fifteen years later, Barnsley had reached the top level of English football for the first time in their history. The home and away games with Liverpool that season were both momentous occasions for the South Yorkshire side, who had caught the nation’s affections as they did weekly battle with the big guns of the English soccer aristocracy.

Astonishingly, Barnsley caused a major upset by beating Liverpool 1-0 at Anfield, despite remaining under siege for much of the match. The game at Oakwell early in 1998 was an altogether different affair.

After languishing at the foot of the table for several months, Barnsley staged a revival in February and March of 1998.

Fans began to believe that their team’s¬† samba-style football and¬†their shamelessly optimistic theme song¬†“It’s just like watching Brazil” (to the tune of “Blue Moon”) might just be enough to ensure survival for one more season.

They had not bargained for the home game with Liverpool and match referee Gary Willard.

Much has been written about this game. For Barnsley fans, it is difficult to discuss the afternoon’s events without foaming at the mouth.

Needless to say, Barnsley lost the game. At 1-1, the referee sent off two Barnsley players. Liverpool went ahead 2-1. Unbelievably, the nine men levelled the scores at 2-2. Mr. Willard then sent off a third Barnsley player.

In the last minute, Liverpool grabbed the winner. A darker mood was never witnessed at Oakwell. Mr. Willard required a police escort from the pitch. The team’s league form¬†never recovered from this game, and they were relegated before the end of the season.

Barnsley’s tilt at the Premiership is documented by Mark Hodkinson in the book ‘Life at the Top’. He is not a Barnsley fan, and therefore offers a more balanced view of that afternoon’s events. Here is an excerpt from the book:

Willard chose precisely the wrong place to stage his three-card trick. Barnsley does not suffer fools and it has a historical mistrust of authority. While, like most clubs, Barnsley has undergone what sociologists call “embourgoisement” – you know, serviettes supplied with the pies, toilets that flush, fans that applaud David Seaman because he is the England goalkeeper, etc‚Ķ – there remains a mass of support based on fierce parochialism. They are ex-miners, and sons of ex-miners, once the aristocracy of the working class, now left with too much time on their hands to ponder Barnsley’s next match.

Back in the 1970s, they saw through the smoke and mirrors and detected that the National Coal Board had a secret agenda. They were patronised, told that too much time underground had made them over-fond of baseless conspiracy theories. In the 1980s the pits duly closed and their frustration was played out against lines of policemen.

The resentment, institutionalised now, still exists in Barnsley. The football club has become a focus for regional pride and naked passion; a two-fingered wave back to a country that they believe has consigned them to afternoon television and twice-weekly trips to the job club. Their nemesis arrived last weekend in the shape of a divorced father-of-two civil servant with a Saturday job as a football referee. There are “honest” fouls in football – a clip of the heel, a shift of weight to slow up an opponent’s run – and there are dishonest ones, too. Willard permitted the cynical, the puerile and the snide but gleefully punished the trivial.

After this injustice had been reinforced beyond the point of tolerance, ill-feeling spread through Oakwell like a malignant Mexican wave.

For a longer excerpt, see here.

Tomorrow at 3:00 p.m. GMT, the FA Cup fifth round match between Liverpool and Barnsley will kick off at Anfield.

Barnsley are now¬†a mid-table Championship club. Getting a result at Premiership Liverpool tomorrow would be touted as a giant-killing. Realistically, the best most of us hope for is a draw or a hard-fought defeat with predictably sympathetic “Battling Barnsley” headlines.

But tonight, hope remains. At 10:00 in the morning, with five feet snow banks lining our driveway, our family will settle on the sofa to watch the game live on Fox Sports World Canada. Ritualistically, my sons and I will don our replica Barnsley shirts and, as the game kicks off, let optimism soar.

I will ask them to scan the hordes of Barnsley fans. And try to spot Grandad.

The distance between home and abroad, past and present, hope and reality, their childhood and mine, will shrink.

By half-time, the game may well be as good as over.

And, should¬†Barnsley lose,¬†they will handle the pain of defeat less well than me. And part of me will feel guilty for having subjected them to this. Even though they can’t wait to watch.

But I also know that they will always remember this game.

And that’s important as well.


Addendum: Guess what. Score level with 30 seconds to go, then this happens.

Brian Howard’s glory strike¬†in Arabic.

Or in French:

Cue household delirium.

They will definitely remember this game.

Full match report here.

And this is how the shocked pundits saw it unfold:

Match of the Day highlights:


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The two towers

Travelling from the tallest free-standing structure in the world on land to the tallest free-standing structure in the United Kingdom pretty much takes me from where I live now to where I was born.

One is in downtown Toronto and the other is in rural Yorkshire.

The CN tower is of course a major tourist attraction. In summer, people line up for hours for the chance to see just how flat southern Ontario really is. Once you’ve done that, you can study the full effects of acrophobia as people recoil in terror from the gaping hell of the glass floor.

Meanwhile, obese young children miraculously spring to action and bounce relentlessy on it for hours at a time. Visiting tip: Book a table at the revolving restaurant and beat the line-ups. But do the glass floor first.

cn tower toronto canada

After a flight from Toronto to Manchester, my first sighting of Emley Moor TV transmitter (known locally simply as “The Mast”, although technically it is not a mast) on the horizon is a sure-fire sign that I am now a) probably jet-lagged and b) almost, as my Indian friends say, “in my backhome.”

Emley Moor transmitting station has virtually no visitors. It is closed to the public. For some reason, there is a designated¬†observation area just over the road. Considering it can be observed from miles around in many directions, this seems a tad superfluous. But that’s Yorkshire for you. Generous to a fault. Visiting tip: Get there early. Before the flocks.

Emley Moor transmitter

CN Tower info:

Height: 1815 feet

Height above sea level: 2051 feet

Built: 1973-1976

Elevator ascent time: approx 1 minute

Subject of a song? Yes, The CN Tower Belongs to the Dead

Drops huge chunks of ice on downtown expressway? Yes

Emley Moor transmitter info:

Height: 1084 feet

Height above sea level: 1949 feet

Built: 1969-1971

Lift ascent time: 7 minutes

Grade II listed building status? Yes

Subject of a poem? Yes, by Simon Armitage

Emley Moor transmitter

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It’s grim up north

On the day that Barnsley FC inadvertently secured survival in the Championship, thanks to a late Ipswich equaliser at Leeds, it seems fitting to upload a couple of images showing the absolute majesty of the Yorkshire countryside.

Yorkshire view

Outsiders and comers-in might sometimes claim that the various Yorkshire accents fail to match the beauty of their natural surroundings. They’d be wrong of course.

And here’s a link to prove it. Have fun translating these melodious Barnsley phrases into your native tongue:

Local Barnsley sayings

Yorkshire view 2

You reds!

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