Peter Beardsley, soccer’s outcast: Gary Lineker nonetheless thanks me for a similar factor each single day… however I’ll by no means handle once more – you possibly can’t shout at your gamers anymore

As England kickstart their new era in front of 80,000 fans, a legendary player from their past is attempting his own reboot in front of 100 punters.

The venue is the Masonic Hall in the tiny Cumbrian town of Aspatria, some 300 miles and a world away from Wembley.

While pictures of the King and late Queen adorn the walls here, this less-than-regal room is not where you would expect to find football royalty. But such a setting is as good as it gets these days for Peter Beardsley, the fallen Prince of St James’ Park.

It is now six years since one of Newcastle’s greatest players had his contract terminated by the club following a 14-month investigation into allegations of racism and bullying while he was their Under 23 boss.

The Geordie was then suspended by the FA from all football-related activity for 32 weeks after three charges of using racist language, including calling a black player a ‘monkey’, were proven by a panel.

He denies the claims, but football has since turned its back on Beardsley, which is why Mail Sport has come to Cumbria on this Friday evening to listen to what the cancelled coach has to say.

Tickets for ‘An Evening with Peter Beardsley’ have been sold for £20, with proceeds split between three worthy causes – Aspatria Junior Football Club, the Alzheimer’s Society and James Rennie School, which specialises in educating children with learning difficulties.

That Beardsley is in the building is obvious even before you get to the doors of the Masonic Hall, a two-centuries-old building where freemasons meet. The giveaway is the private registration plate on the black Audi parked against a wall outside, which spells out his nickname ‘Pedro’.

After punters pick up their complementary pie and pea supper from the bar, they are encouraged to take their seats on one of the 12 long tables next door. With its floral-patterned wallpaper and wood panelling, the large function room has seemingly not been decorated since tonight’s guest speaker made his professional debut for Carlisle – 20 miles east of where we are – in 1979.

It is 8.15pm when Beardsley is presented on stage wearing a black and white chequered jacket, perhaps a nod to his boyhood club, who ended their 56-year trophy drought five days prior.

The 64-year-old reveals he has donated £200 of his speaking fee to the fundraising pot, and, for the next hour, he chronicles his journey from sweeping factory floors in Tyneside to playing in two World Cups for England.

An appreciative audience hang on his every word, as Beardsley reminds them his first big break came at Carlisle, before he went on to play for, among other clubs, Vancouver Whitecaps, Newcastle, Liverpool and Everton in a glittering 20-year career.

Unsurprisingly, Beardsley completely misses out the second half of his football life. It is apparent, however, that he is still bitter about how his coaching career was cut short, clearly still believing he said nothing wrong to the young players who made complaints against him.

‘Banter was allowed in those days, but it’s not allowed now,’ he says after a story about the stick he once received from his co-workers following a failed trial at Cambridge.

‘It’s a different world now,’ he later adds. ‘People swear now and it’s a crime. It’s just weird how the world has gone a different way.’

Beardsley is unashamedly unrepentant, but he does try his best to avoid adding fuel to the fire during his 60-minute address. Any story that is even remotely risqué comes with the clarification that he is ‘not being nasty’ or that he doesn’t ‘mean this horribly’.

His overcaution is painstaking at times. But Beardsley’s speech does serve to remind the crowd of the player he once was – a winner of two League titles, one FA Cup and 59 England caps. Not to mention one of the most exciting, skilful and creative forwards the country has ever produced.

Beardsley reveals he is still in touch with three of English football’s most famous names – Gary Lineker, Paul Gascoigne and Kevin Keegan. He jokes how Lineker still thanks him every day for the assists he provided him during their strike partnership with England. Gazza, he informs us, shares a birthday with his 36-year-old son Drew and calls him on May 27 every year.

Special praise, though, is reserved for his former Newcastle team-mate and manager, Keegan. ‘KK was amazing for me, still is amazing for me,’ says Beardsley, who has been spotted in the audience at some of Keegan’s own speaking engagements in recent months.

‘He is God in my world. I still speak to him every week. I’m 64 now but he still treats me like a son. He’s the best football person I’ve ever met.’

Much like Keegan, Beardsley still has an enduring appeal to a generation of fans. That is evident in the charity auction which follows his speech, with two signed replica England 1990 World Cup shirts, bearing his name and number, selling for a combined £530.

After the auction, Beardsley returns to the stage for a Q&A, with ticket holders asked to write out their questions and submit them in advance, seemingly so he is not caught off guard.

Beardsley is more loose-lipped at this stage of the evening, reacting angrily to a Liverpool fan’s question about the ‘blue sh**e’, while describing his former England manager Graham Taylor as ‘f***ing hopeless’.

The most pertinent question of the night, though, is the final one: does he want to get back into football? The anecdotal evidence is that he is desperate to do exactly that.

Two years after he was handed his FA suspension, in October 2021, Beardsley hosted a half-term soccer school for children aged six to 14 at Kingston Park, the home of rugby union side Newcastle Falcons.

The following April, he was reported to be a contender to become boss of South Tyneside team Hebburn Town. More recently, he has been spotted in the crowd watching Northern Premier League outfit Workington – confirming in the Q&A that he did once speak to someone about their manager’s job.

And yet, Beardsley has still not been employed since his acrimonious departure from St James’ Park. Instead, those who have seen him near his home in Darras Hall – the exclusive estate in Ponteland, Northumberland, where several Newcastle stars reside – say he cuts a lost and lonely figure.

He still plays five-a-side football twice a week with a group of local teachers. ‘I have the best time,’ he tells the Aspatria audience. ‘I very rarely touch the ball, but the amount of f***ing dummies I do is unbelievable.’

But work is not as easy to find as a kickabout, even if he is open to all offers, including cutting the ribbon at the opening of a builders’ merchant in Carlisle, as he did in April 2023. In the absence of anything more permanent, then, it is speaking gigs in provincial places such as this that have been his saviour.

‘Coach again? Yeah. Manager? Never,’ says Beardsley, answering that final question. ‘I’ve no interest in being a manager because you are relying on people being honest every day, doing the best they can every day, and it doesn’t always happen.

‘But also now, you can’t shout at them, you can’t criticise them.

‘I talk to people a lot about this – would I play now or would I play then? I’d definitely play then. I wouldn’t swap a day of what I had, good or bad.

‘Hopefully I won’t be gone for a while, but I’m still coming back as me.’

Love him or loathe him, there’s only one Peter Beardsley.