JASON Ainsley leaves for work, what might be termed the day job, at 6.40am. It’s a 75 mile round trip, back – if he’s lucky – by five. “The other day in the snow it took me two-and-a-half hours,” he laments.
Most evenings, every Saturday, are occupied with his second job – manager of resurgent Spennymoor Town FC, pushing hard for a promotion play-off place in National League North and in the last 16 of the FA Trophy.
He’s 47, made 15 Football League appearances for Hartlepool United in 1994-95, works in education. His Twitter account says that he’s married with three beautiful daughters. Jade, his stepdaughter, is a manager with Tesco, Amber – “the brains of the family” – is reading philosophy and ethics at Durham University, 15-year-old Mia is still at school.
So we’ve barely been two minutes around the pub table when a thought occurs. How on earth does he know they’re beautiful? When does he ever see them?
“Good question,” says Jason. “Most days, at any rate, I do try to get home for my tea.”
STOCKTON born and happily back there, he also played senior non-league football in the North-East, in Singapore for Jurong and Balestier Khalsa and in Western Australia for Inglewood Kiev,
He became Spennymoor’s manager in 2007, just two years after senior football in the town seemed dead. Spennymoor United had folded after 101 years, their Northern Premier League season unfinished. Bills were unpaid, electricity unaccounted, the Brewery Field rather resembling the morning after a very hard night before.
Ultimately revived as Spennymoor Town – long story – they resumed in the Northern League second division and had been promoted when Jason took sole control.
Still times were hard. “If we were trying to sign a player we’d take him to the pub, never to the ground. He might have looked at the carpet.
“If negotiations took a bit longer we’d go to another pub. We only went to the ground after he’d signed.”
In the FA Vase they were drawn at Bideford, in Devon, unable either to afford the cost of transport or a place to lay their collective heads.
Jason, who played Sunday football for the all-conquering Hetton Lyons, rang Lyons manager Brad Groves, a hugely successful businessman. Groves agreed to help, to pay wages until the end of the season.
The following season he became chairman – owner, as the modern game supposes. It’s been an extraordinary partnership.
While the chairman put affairs in order and upgraded the ground – “we even got new carpet” – Jason set about building a team which could sustain higher level football.
They claimed three successive Northern League titles, won the FA Vase at Wembley in 2013, went up at the end of 2014-15 and have won two further promotions. Another two and they’re in the Football League.
Where barely a decade ago crowds didn’t make three figures, they now average 1,000. There’s a Platinum Club which holds champagne receptions; appointment of a full-time managing director is imminent.
Further ground improvements, necessary to play in the national division of what formerly was the Conference, will be complete by the March 31 deadline.
Tommy Miller, remembered at Hartlepool and elsewhere, has joined as assistant manager – “a breath of fresh air,” says the boss.
Eight teams in the division are full-time. Promotion through the play-offs is still very much a possibility, the relationship between manager and chairman so generally harmonious that Jason declines a contract.
“I like to think that I’ve worked hard for Brad, but he’s been there for me, especially at times when I’ve struggled. If the time comes when he thinks someone else can do the job better, so be it. I’d never try to take anything from him.”
Both were recently honoured by the town council. “It was lovely,” says Jason. “I think it’s something to do with driving your sheep up the High Street. I haven’t tried it yet.”
AFTER 18 years as head of behaviour at St Peter’s academy in South Bank, Teesside, he’s now a head of year at Mortimer College in South Shields – another town where a football revival is creating much excitement – and has become a Roman Catholic. “My wife Joanne’s family were all Catholics.”
He’s the most genial, the most affable and the most open of men – save for those 90 minutes dug in the dugout.
When the Northern League introduced a Secret Shopper initiative, aimed at addressing the unacceptable, the name J Ainsley appeared on almost as many shopper lists as J Sainsbury. The euphemism is that he’s passionate.
“I know, I can see the irony. I would tell people I was head of behaviour and they nearly fell over,” he concedes over a single lager shandy. “The kids at St Peter’s would sometimes do ridiculous things and then I’d be the same.
“Brad once subbed me for Hetton Lyons and I really went off it, threw all the toys out of my pram. He gave me the biggest bollocking of my life and I took a lot on board from it.
“Head of behaviour, on the journey to faith and always in trouble with referees. I do sometimes think that they have it in for me but I’ve settled down a bit as I’ve got older. Older and wiser, as they say. Hopefully I earn the respect of the students.”
Latterly he’s been watched by Mia, and by Joanne who takes her daughter to matches. “Mia’s thing just came out of the blue but she’s really keen now,” says her dad.
“For Christmas we bought her an Apple Mac, a Moors away shirt and a Moors calendar. All she wanted to be photographed with was the shirt and the calendar.”
He’d prefer another Wembley final to promotion – “the chairman wouldn’t agree with me” – tries deftly to deflect the question of what he’d do if the club in turn became full time.
“I’d be very tempted, but full time management in football can be a very short-lived occupation. We have some very good footballers here who could also play full time but, like me, they have their careers to think of. My role at the college is pastoral, not academic, and I absolutely love working with the students. It may be that that’s the future.”
THEY train twice a week, often play twice a week. The “northern” section can take them into the West Midlands, returning from night matches well after midnight. For home games the team meets at noon.
It means that he’s also had to stop playing Over-40s League football on Saturday mornings. “I used also to enjoy a kickabout with the lads at Spennymoor but these days no one wants me on their team. It’s a bit like at school – the last kid to be picked.”
Time for any other hobbies? There are Sundays after all.
“If there’s no English football on television I’ll watch German league or Spanish league, or whatever. Joanne might watch something else in another room. She’s brilliant, really understanding, really supportive.”
After nearly two hours conversation, he heads for home about 6.15pm. However belatedly, it’s time for tea.
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