Ideas?

I dont see the attraction in buses like.....

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Are they bearded fans?

 

What about a poetic tribute to Hughie?

On a June morning in 1957, two young trainspotters saw a small man standing on a footbridge over the main railtrack at Gateshead. For half an hour they watched him as he paced backwards and forwards. He seemed agitated and confused, openly weeping, and occasionally pounding the bridge-rail with his fists. At exactly 12.08 he looked up suddenly as he heard the whistle and roar of an express train. Moving quickly now,he stepped down from the bridge, jumped over a low fence and began to clamber up the embankment. He paused near the young trainspotters, smiled almost in embarrassment, and said only one word - "sorry" - before walking without hesitation on to the line and into the path of the oncoming train. His decapitated body was found 100 yards down the line, at a spot known locally as Dead Man's Crossing.

Neither of the two boys who saw this brutal moment had ever met the stranger. But in those brief seconds of their passing on the embankment they recognised his face instantly.

Hughie Gallacher was 54 when he died. He had not kicked a ball in competition for nearly two decades, and he was not even a native of Tyneside. He had been born and raised in Scotland. Yet his deathparalysed an entire region.Crowds packed into the city for his funeral,as if they were saying farewell to a friend. Even those too young to have seen him play knew all about the fame and glory of Gallacher. Their dads had told them all about the man they called the King of Tyneside, the deadliest centre forward of them all, one of the most prolific goalscorers of the century.

The stretch of track on which Gallacher died is still there, at Down Bell Vue Bank on the Gateshead side of the Tyne.So is the bridge where he took his decision to die. And from the high ground of Gateshead, you can look across the great river and its Bridges and see a sight that symbolises the power and majesty created by an old and simple game: the great cathedral of St James's Park, home of Newcastle United.

Gallacher arrived 1925, already a cocky little 20-year-old eager to take on the best of English football. He'd been down the pit at the age of 15, and he was as handy with his fists as he was with his feet. For 3 years, from the age of 17, he had been the best-known player north of the border, the leading goal scorer in the land and already a full international. It was inevitable that one of the big English clubs would sign him, and it was Newcastle who paid the then huge sum of £6500.

He was a natural athlete and a player of tremendous speed,guile and instinct, with the kind of physical ruthlessness that often made him dangerous to the health of his opponents. Even as a teenager, his goal-scoring record was incredible. At his first club, Queen of the South, he had banged in 19 goals in 9 games. And in the Scottish First Division, with Airdrie, he scored 100 goals, often in multiples of three, four and five a game.

There was never anything shy or modest about Gallacher. From the moment he walked into the Newcastle dressing room, he was a dominant figure. Men 10 years his senior and a foot taller than him were made fully aware that they were privileged to be playing in the same team. There was nothing of the sporting gentleman about him, either. On the field he was known for his full-blooded tackling, and he had developed every sneaky trick in the book, regularly fooling goalkeepers by imitating the voice of one of their team-mates and scoring when they let the ball go through. One of his other favourite tricks was to stand "accidentally" on the foot of the 'keeper at corner kicks.Yet strangely, these goalkeepers always talked fondly of him. "He was the greatest centre forward I ever saw," said the legendary Frank Swift. "But he had more tricks than a bucketful of monkeys."

Goals were everything to Gallacher. If he failed to score in any game he was inconsolable, even when his team won. Even in the modern era - where far more games, both league and international, are played - there are few players, if any, who could match his record as a goal scorer. In a career spanning more than 20 years he played in a total of 624 league, cup and international matches, scoring a total of 463 goals. This goals-per-game ratio has never been equalled, and he is the only player who ever scored five goals in one match for Scotland.

After one season with Newcastle he was made captain, and led the team to the championship in the 1926-27 season. He could do no wrong in that golden year, rattling in 39 goals in 41 games, a club record. And off the field he enjoyed his fame on a nightly basis, drinking and carousing in the city's numerous pubs and clubs.

He often drank heavily and throughout his life smoked up to 40 Woodbine cigarettes a day - but he was never a problem drinker. Every morning he was first on the pitch for training, and right up to the end of his playing career, at 36, he could cover 50 yards faster than most athletes.

He was brave, too. From the very first match he played in England he was a marked man, hacked and elbowed and gouged by defenders acting on instructions to stop him scoring at all costs. One team-mate described how Hughie would sit in the dressing room, sucking on his half-time Woodbine, with pieces of flesh hanging from his legs and his socks and boots soaked in blood. He sometimes wept with pain, but he couldn't wait for the second half to start. He wanted both goals and revenge.

England was providing everything he wanted, in the way of money, fame and girls. Newcastle in the Twenties became a playground for the young superstar. He loved expensive, double-breasted suits and matching waistcoats, and began to wear what became his trademark accessories - white spats and a snazzy bowler hat. Photographs of Gallacher and his cronies out on the town circa 1925 were more reminiscent of Al Capone and his hoodlums than of young athletes in hard training.

He loved the pubs and clubs of the city. And he spent his money as fast as he earned it. In his entire career he was never paid more than pounds 10 a week, including pounds 1 bonuses for wins, even though crowds of 70,000 and 80,000 were turning out to see him every Saturday. Indeed, in 20 years at the top, Gallacher never earned more than pounds 500 a year, making a total of just pounds 10,000 - about a fifth of what some present day strikers earn in a week.

At the age of 32 he was still playing for Scotland. But after spells at Chelsea dn Derby County he missed living on Tyneside, and finally, in 1938, Gateshead FC, a modest team languishing in the bottom division, paid pounds 500 for him. If ever any sportsman had earned his honours and his retirement, it was Hughie Gallacher. Right to the end he gave full value. Crowds at the Gateshead ground soared to 20,000 a week; in his final season, 1939-40, he scored 18 goals in just 31 games. So why then did he chose to take his life in 1957?

All that is known is that in May of that year officers of the local branch of the NSPCC made a complaint to the local authority that the youngest of Gallacher's three sons, Matthew, aged 14, had been injured following an incident at the house. And that is what the papers seemed to suggest. But there is another account of the affair, and if it is true then history and fate dealt a very unfair and savage final blow to Hughie Gallacher.

It states that Hughie adored his kids and he never laid a hand on any of them. The real reason for the tragedy was the death of his wife some years earlier, which shattered Hughie. Over the following years he became a very depressed and lonely man, but according to his sons he did the very best he could in looking after them. He hadn't saved any money, but he was willing to go out and earn a living to keep his family together. He did a variety of jobs just to keep the family together. And by all accounts it was a happy home. What happened was so sudden and and trivial that it should have stayed a domestic affair, but somehow the details got out and the authorities acted out of all proportion. Then the newspapers blew it all up, implying there had been drunkenness and persistent abuse in the house. People who knew him were convinced that it was all nonsense. But the shame contained in the accusation of child abuse and neglect was too much for him. For a man as depressed as he was, and who was so proud of his achievements, the hints and the innuendoes were more than he could bear. In reality, Matti had been misbehaving and had been told off by his father several times. When he persisted his father lifted an ashtray, a small plastic dish and threw it across the room in exasperation. It struck the boy on the temple and he ran from the house. There was no injury, not even a cut.

The next day, when police and social workers called to take the boy away,Gallacher realised he was about to be charged with an offence that could mean losing custody of his children. For several weeks, according to his friends, the shattered man spent hours wandering the streets. Players and officials from Newcastle came to see him, offering their support and assuring him that nobody would believe he had done such a thing intentionally. But for a man like Gallacher,the looming court appearance and the fact that he could not see his son was driving him closer to the edge.

"It's no good fighting this thing now," said Hughie. "They've got me on this one. My life is finished." Finally, he headed up the hill towards the railway track and up on to the little bridge. From there it would have been possible to look across the river and see the huge ramparts of the old St James's Park stadium, the place where had given and received so much all those years ago. But it was a weekday, and the stadium would have been silent. And anyway, for Hughie Gallacher the sounds of glory were long gone, and all he could hear was the sound of an oncoming train.

 

The Angel of the north?

 

think Hughie Gallacher is a shout - never knew he killed himself or anything but what a story

 

My grandparents used to live near there, so used to go past it all the time, now only go past it if I go through there to get my haircut.