The Far Corner by Harry Pearson
There are few, if any, books whose index at the back leaves me in fits of giggles but then this is quite a special book. 25 or so years after the seminal The Far Corner, Harry is back, after some very trying personal circumstances with another love letter to non league football in the North East.
This is a warm, extremely funny and strangely moving travelogue of a season traipsing around the grounds covering the various levels of football in the non-league pyramid. It oozes affection for the careworn, down at heel grounds whose existence is down to the army of hardy volunteers who pour their time, effort, resources and, in some cases, cash to keep the club running on threadbare resources. Sure, wind will be punishing, the bovril will be piss weak and the football will be dreadful but that is the absolute joy of non league football, as this book attests to.
This is a warm, extremely funny and strangely moving travelogue of a season traipsing around the grounds covering the various levels of football in the non-league pyramid. It oozes affection for the careworn, down at heel grounds whose existence is down to the army of hardy volunteers who pour their time, effort, resources and, in some cases, cash to keep the club running on threadbare resources. Sure, wind will be punishing, the bovril will be piss weak and the football will be dreadful but that is the absolute joy of non league football, as this book attests to.
