It's safe to say that if you're of the black and white persuasion, the last 48 hours have been pretty crazy. Although I don't post about football anywhere near as much as I did in the early days of this blog, my love for Newcastle United has never really waned. I was initially going to post this as a tweet or a thread but it soon became apparent that there were too many words and feels for short form media.
On Sunday night, Newcastle United broke their 70 year domestic trophy drought, when they beat Liverpool 2-1 to win the Carabao EFL Cup. Like so many of my fellow fans I watched the majority of the game on tv through my hands, unlike my mam whose faith never waivered, I wasn't confident in the slightest and even when Big Dan Burn headed us in front I still didn't dare to dream, when Isak scored a second finally there was hope but then came VAR and the Liverpool goal, and goodness knows how many minutes of added time which was almost torturous, I was really starting to think that it's the hope that kills you, but we held on and when the final whistle blew I'll admit that like so many other fan that I cried, tears of joy, relief, and to be honest what could have been.
I know what some of you are thinking, it's just a game it's not that deep but for so many Newcastle fans or anyone that truly supports a football club it really is. Eddie Howe mentioned his late mum in his press conference, Alan Shearer talked about his late dad in a podcast and I've seen so many tweets and posts about people talking about family members that never got to experience what we have over the last few days.
Growing up where I did you supported Newcastle or Sunderland, whilst my dad had memories of watching games at both clubs, by the time I came along you had to choose, and my dad went with the boys in black and white, and my fate was sealed. Being a girl in the 80's first real football memory was Italia 90, I vaguely remember the penalty misses and Gazza's tears, even if I didn't quite understand what was going on - 2 years later though everything changed, and that was thanks to Kevin Keegan.
I remember the hope and the excitement when the hero returned, he miraculously kept us up that season, and the 92/93 season was when my obsession really started, I listened to games avidly on the radio, and watched them on tv when I could, and the season culminated in promotion to the Premier League, and a 7-1 home win against Leicester City. Me and some of my friends attended the promotion parade, which ended in the pouring rain outside Newcastle Civic Centre, there were people climbing trees, and up lamp posts to see the players and KK himself on the balcony, and the bus ride home was a cacophony of noise including 'if you're proud to be a Geordie be a tree.'
Then like now tickets were hard to come by, the ground looked nothing like it does now, so I didn't actually attend my first proper Premier League game until the 3rd May 1995 when I was lucky enough to witness a 3-3 draw against Spurs, which included a goal by the legendary Jurgen Klinsmann. I attended the odd game here and there, and experienced everything from Keegan leaving, to the Andy Cole signing and then leaving and then the arrival of Alan Shearer, can you imagine what twitter would have been like in those days? given some of the meltdowns Newcastle fans have seen lately it doesn't bare thinking about.
We went through a few more managers and a couple of more comings and goings and then Sir Bobby returned and that coincided with me meeting a fellow fan, who would become one of my bestest and dearest friends, and I started going to games more regularly especially cup games thanks to her brothers season ticket, and after a long hiatus my dad and even my mam ended up going to a few games, sitting in the Platinum club as was!
At home me and my dad used to watch football on the television driving my mam mad at time, but the funny thing is we never actually went to a game together but for those of you who aren't aware of my story that should have changed on the 4th November 2002. My friend wasn't well so my dad took her ticket for the Middlesbrough game, but unfortunately he collapsed on the way to the ground, we never made it to the match that night, and my dad never made it home, passing away in the early hours of November 5th in the Freeman Hospital.
I guess things could have gone either way after that night, I could have continued to have been haunted by the memories of that fateful night, and rejected the noise, and the black and white shirts or I could carry on and continue doing something that I know he would love and I that I had grown to love - it comes as no surprise that I chose the latter - I think it took a month or so before I went back to a game , and I'm not going to lie my stomach was churning, someone in front was wearing my dads aftershave Hugo Boss Dark Blue which I guess could have been a sign and the memories came flooding back soon though I was concentrating on the game, shouting at the referee, and moaning like I know my dad would have done.
Soon after that I got my first season ticket and several more followed it, I went on to witness the end of Sir Bobbys reign, Souness, Bowyer v Dyer, the Intertoto Cup win, a memorable for many reasons away win at West Ham, and of course Shearer breaking Jackie Milburn's record. My mam to her credit really tried to be enthusiastic and she still tries even if I do have to re explain the rules every now and then, and tell her again who Schar is, but I miss sharing things with my dad and doing an after match de brief before and after his Sunday lunch time pub trips.
The fun couldn't last though, Mike Ashley the billionaire that would hopefully take us to the next level arrived, and his arrival seemed to coincide with my own body giving up on me - after several low lows, relegation was the final straw, I was attending less and less games, my health was failing and I couldn't justify keeping my season ticket.
Supporting Newcastle through that was hard, although there were glimpses here and there of what could be, supporting a team that was happy with just existing especially when being so unwell was hard, I'd used football as a crutch at times, not only was it a link to my dad but it was a link to normality, how things used to be and it was fading away, especially when covid came on the scene.
Then like that everything changed again, there was talk of a takeover, I started engaging again with NUFC social media accounts, even arguing with the odd journalist here and there, but then hopes were dashed again but the fanbase mobilised we wanted change, we wanted to believe again, and finally on 7th October 2021 we had new owners and the hope and the pride was back. That was another emotional day I can imagine how excited my dad would have been and how he would have loved all the pub talk about signings and managers, and the whole morals and ethics of been owned by the Saudis and some more southern billionaires, and that was a feeling that was amplified when we qualified for the Champions League in 2023 for the first time in the 20 or so years since my dad had passed - that game was so emotional I went on twitter and whilst it can be a cesspit pretty much most of the time now, some of the comments and messages I got that night after sharing my story really soothed my soul.
So here I am we've won a trophy, and whilst my dad was lucky enough to see us win a couple, it was a experience that we never shared, we were together for 2 FA Cup finals, and we were both stunned as we threw away that 12 point lead, but this time when it mattered, it was just me and my Mam watching through our hands. I'm sure wherever he is though he was raising a glass along with so many other members of the toon army that we've lost along the way, and next time I go to visit his grave I'll tell him again about Bruno's tears, Burn's header, pump it up, Yasir, and Jamie with their winners shirts over their suits, the brilliance of Edward John Frank Howe, and why we as Newcastle fans have so many reasons to be excited for the future.
It's not just a game or a football team it's about the shared memories and experiences that it brings. Our lives change, we lose people, we meet new people, and we may even lose and find ourselves again along the way but if you support a team, that club is one of the few constants that we have and that's why it means to so much to so many, and why its so important that even in this world of billionaires, match day tourists, PSR, media rights, and You Tubers, that the true fans aren't left behind x
