Supporters from the frozen north are given a warm welcome in Willington

No matter how Valerenga fared at Newcastle the following evening, their supporters - so appreciated by the club that they even have a collective squad number - scored a huge victory for football.

No matter the Norse reputation for looting, pillaging and the other thing, no matter that Wilhemina the Willington mascot had to be hidden in the cellar - she being a bear of very little brawn - there proved a huge liking for Viking.

As if to make the visitors feel especially at home, the pitch was partly snow covered and the weather, as they say, positively perishing.

There's a bit of a history to this, basically involving the Internet and a group of Norwegian underwear salesmen, though the story, like the knickers, has tended to get into a twist.

Suffice that in the middle of last year, a six pack from the land of the midnight fun heard of the Co Durham club's financial plight, arrived at the ground with a thirst for international relations and tried heroically to sink the cumulative debt. On Tuesday night, Norway brought in reinforcements.

In theory it was a game between Willington and Valerenga's considerably fortified Over 40s, in practice it was an attempt to prove that Bacchus was Norwegian after all.

They were as boisterous as they were brilliant, and not a ha'porth of bother, any of them.

Almost 100 arrived an hour and a half before kick off, sought directions to the ground and were escorted by a kindly local, walking in front of the bus like the chap with the red flag on the Stockton and Darlington Railway.

Two coaches were hired in Newcastle, the third had come from Oslo, though it was possible to wonder how it might ever have made it from Oakenshaw.

"If you'd seen the amount of ale on board," said one of the drivers, "you'd be amazed it could move at all."

The clubhouse would have sold even more, goodness knows, had not the Boddington's dispenser filled the glass with all the alacrity of a one armed riveter on a work to rule.

Amateur Cup winners in 1950, drawn against Blackburn Rovers in the 1973 FA Cup, Willington have fallen on conspicuously hard times - struggling near the bottom of the Albany Northern League second division and desperate to upgrade the ground.

The Norwegians - and Petur Gudbjartsson, a lone Icelander - were there to get the drinks in.

Petur had flown from Reykjavik to Copenhagen, Copenhagen to Newcastle, bus to Willington. "I didn't think it would be this cold," he said.

There were Harald and Thomas Nielsen, who took a fraternal fancy to Wilhemina, Knut Roar Westbye who flew a handlebar moustache - stained ochre by 30 years of nicotine - which made Jimmy Edwards look clean shaven by comparison, Arne Danielsen who'd written a blockbuster novel about a chess player but which also featured Led Zeppelin.

"It's the Fever Pitch of chess," he said, though what Led Zeppelin had to do with it has unfortunately been lost in the translation.

There was a fat lass with a ring in the end of her nose, several lads wearing T-shirts like a Friday night mating ritual - been there, done that - an older chap who pulled one of those nancy suitcases on wheels.

Its only content was lager, about 20 cans of it.

There were young and old, men and women, united by hollow legs, by a pride in their sport, club and country and, with few exceptions, in their ability to speak good English.

Even those who couldn't had learned the vital word "Wetherspoon's." It was to prove useful in Newcastle next day.

Valerenga had last been in England in 1999, Chelsea in the UEFA, 2,000 of them lionized in Trafalgar Square. Last dance over, they'd amazed the Metropolitan Police by collecting all their litter and taking it to a skip.

"The police mouths just fell open," said Arne. In any case, he added loyally, he much preferred Willington to London.

The match was watched exuberantly, biggest crowd for ages and queues at the tea hut for master baker Flop Gibson's pies, also exported to St Lucia.

(Flop was properly called Philip, it was explained, but since his younger brother had been able only to pronounce the monosyllable, everyone now followed suit.)

The chants were familiar, or at least the tunes were, though Nottingham Forest and Liverpool seemed to have been excluded from the hate list. Even Swing Lo, that latter day national anthem, had been shamelessly charioteered.

Half way through the first half they also collectively rattled their keys, perhaps seeking an invitation to a wife swapping party, perhaps emulating the Magpie mantra against their Wearside rivals: Weez keys are these?

Perhaps it was simply Norse code.

Several Valerenga players wore gloves, a sole resemblance to Thierry Henry, the goalkeeper wore shorts which disclosed a cold front and a builder's backside. Willington won 4-1, or so.

Afterwards everyone swapped shirts, again overflowed the pint pot clubhouse, sang their songs, cheered, made the bus wait, talked of a return fixture and of paying Willington's expenses.

"It's just a shame that they've had to come from Norway to help us when most Willington folk won't even cross the road," said the harassed barmaid but with football folk like these, it's still the finest fraternity in the world.

Hoban's hero marks 60th birthday in style

At Trimdon Labour Club, where many another merry evening has been held of late, Malcolm Dawes celebrated his 60th birthday on Wednesday with a team of old Football League friends and with 86-year-old Tom Hoban, the teacher who showed him the game.

The family had bought him tracksuit and trainers. "I think they're trying to tell me something," said Malcolm.

He made over 400 fourth division appearances, most enduringly at Hartlepool where he was 1974 player of the year, but also enjoyed a couple of seasons in the sun with New York Cosmos.

Pele, for some reason considered a bigger draw card, was brought in to replace him.

Signed as a boy by former Darlington manager Eddie Carr - Trimdon lad himself, near enough - Malcolm never made a first team appearance before moving on to Nuneaton, tenner a week in the Southern League, then to Aldershot and to Hartlepool at the same time as George Herd and Nicky Sharkey, from Sunderland.

His career ended at Workington. Now he's much involved with cricket, manager of Durham County Under 12s, coach to Sedgefield's juniors and a top of the bill sportsmen's dinner organiser.

Birthday guests included Ralph Wright, with whom he'd been at Hartlepool, Aldershot flat mate Barry Nicholson and old Boro boys like Alan Peacock, Gordon Jones and Frank Spraggon.

Malcolm himself no longer plays in the Over 40s League. "After tonight," he said, "I'm going to start an Over 60s."

Bill Gates, a couple of months Malcolm's junior, has been in touch following Middlesbrough's Carling Cup win on Sunday.

Between 1961-73 Bill made 285 appearances in Boro's central defence, built up a successful chain of sports shops and now lives with his wife Judith in the Cayman Islands.

Having flown back for the team's recent losing finals, he stayed away for this one and in absence seeks some of the credit.

He watched it instead in a bar in Florida in the company of six Bolton fans, three Boro fans and three neutrals. "It was worth it in the end," he says, "and also a great deal warmer."

Dave Palmer, one of the feckless 5s and 3s team, has unearthed a magazine called All Sports, full of nothing new under the sun headlines like "Confusion over new offside rule" and "Struggling clubs in Scotland talk of closing down."

It was published in 1925.

There's also an article by Charlie Roberts, the Darlington man who became first chairman of the PFA - "if you are in the limelight, you will find plenty of friends when you shine" - and a Feethams based cartoon of the Hooper brothers, apparently indistinguishable.

Mark, signed from Cockfield in 1923, hit 43 goals in 126 appearances. Bill, seven years his senior, hit 64 in 154 before ending the double vision by signing for Rochdale instead.

Tuesday's column offered a foretaste of the 50th anniversary of the greatest ever Amateur Cup final, the twice replayed epic between Bishop Auckland and Crook Town in April 1954. Arnold Alton, himself a Northern League centre half of some renown, remembers it well.

"The only available drink on the long train ride back from Wembley was Newcastle Brown Ale, so I had to force it down even though we were supposed to be Methodists."

He also "vividly" recalls that the Wembley programme notes described Crook inside right Ronnie Thompson as "a 21-year-old native of pleasantly named Sunnybrow."

Arnold concedes the truth of the matter. "It is a pleasant name."

Eve of their own fiftieth anniversary, the lads at Shildon Railway FC - Shildon BR ere privatisation - are having their best season in memory.

With the column's old friend Henry Nicholson in charge of team selection, they've reached the final of the Durham Trophy and are in three more semi-finals - including the Auckland Charity Cup, at home tomorrow (2pm) to Tindale Crescent WMC.

Alan Morland urges a Backtrack presence with the promise of corned beef pie, tuna or salmon sandwiches - "depending on how the domino card sales go" - and a pint of John Snith's.

A right lines report before long.

... And finally

Tuesday's question - ten players whose surname ends in the letter "a" who've played for Newcastle United in the Premiership -- caused much fluttering among the Magpie masses.

They are Ginola, Asprilla, Lua-Lua, Ketsbaia, Viana, Goma, Acuna, Chopra and - the tricky two - Saha (on loan) and the little remembered Brazilian, Fumaca.

Fred Alderton in Peterlee today seeks the identity of the manager who observed that when he opened the trophy cupboard he found half a dozen prisoners of war inside.

We're back at the Pow-wow on Tuesday.

Published: 05/03/2004