When a Newcastle United legend bans you from his pub it is a sobering experience…
Let me explain.
This goes back a few years.
Bobby Mitchell (Robert Carmichael Mitchell) was a left winger who played before my time, being a fixture in the team between his signing in 1949 and his leaving to join Berwick Rangers in 1961.
He was a very productive left winger, scoring 113 goals in 367 appearances (some sources say 410).
What would we give for such a prolific winger these days?
Bobby Mitchell became a bit of a Newcastle United cult hero on the terraces and earned the nickname Bobby Dazzler. He was an important part of the team that was incredibly successful in the 50s, winning three FA Cups and scoring in the 1955 final.
In later years I knew Bobby (as no doubt many others frequenting The Mag will have done) as a publican in the Toon during the 1970s and 1980s, running both the Cradlewell and the Lochside. The Lochside was the one I knew him from. He was a fantastic landlord. He was a real gentleman but he brooked no nonsense, as I found out one night in the Lochside.
After Friday night footy at the Lightfoot, the Lochside was often our watering hole of choice, due to its proximity to the coast road. On one particular night I managed to drink enough to move from a happy, convivial state to become a bit of a gobby smart Alec (no change there, some might say).
Upon being served a pint of Guinness that looked slightly short in liquid but long in head, I decided to regale the young barman with a classic wind-up.
“Can you get a double whiskey in there?”
“Yeah….”
“Well, fill it up with Guinness, then!”
Bobby, as ever, was watching over his staff and was in straight away to inform me (quite rightly) that I’d had enough for the night and it might be a good time for me to be making my way home. No threats or histrionics, just sound, “fatherly” advice to an errant child.
Stuck in my “mardy” frame of mind and determined to have the last word I then informed Bobby, rather loftily, that if he’d trained his staff properly they would have known, anyway, that Guinness is the only beer where the head legally constituted part of the drink (I think I’d read about a court case involving weights and measures the day before and was eager to demonstrate my in-depth knowledge of the hospitality trade).
Bobby’s riposte was delivered with the same patient, and by now rather tired and exasperated, air as his previous one, “Well, that’s as maybe but now you’re barred so off you go.”
Even in my alcohol fuddled state I realised that I’d overstepped the mark and did my best to quietly slope off and pretend that it was my own idea.
The next day I made an early trip from Jesmond back to the Lochside. I managed to get Bobby to one side and apologised profusely for my boorish behaviour. Bobby’s attitude was that I hadn’t upset him at all but had made a young lad embarrassed and disappointed the missus so it would be a good idea to apologise to them – which I readily agreed to.
Apologies duly delivered and a one week ban bestowed, I was sneaking out of the door with my tail between my legs when Bobby called over with a bit of a twinkle in the eye to say, “By the way, I’ve updated the training manual”!
What a class act! RIP Bobby Dazzler.