My Beautiful, Abusive Love Affair

Walk away? Nah!

Well here we are at the start of another slog of a season and all the issues and problems that we have endured over the last 14 years of Ashley’s ownership have manifested themselves again. The bloke is apparently desperate to sell the club (and I believe him this time), he has had enough and wants out. It can’t come soon enough and looked like it was happening last summer only for the PL to dash hopes by refusing to make a decision and drag the whole process out in an unprecedented way. Unforgivable, but as far as the Toon are concerned entirely predictable , like conceding a penalty in the last minute of injury time for example (see below). God forbid we are allowed to dream about a better future and maybe even stand a chance of winning something while waving goodbye to the incompetent soul- destroying way the club has been run for a decade and a half. If only it would actually happen, what a party we would have.

So here we are three games in and we have gathered a paltry single point and watched some utter dross with just a small smattering of short lived euphoria thrown in. St Maximin’s 90th minute goal against Southampton was the signal for SJP to erupt with shattering noise, a sea of flailing arms and bodies everywhere, strangers hugging, celebrating what looked like an unlikely winning goal. This was what it is all about, what being a Toon fan means. Just 90 seconds later of course it all came crashing down in true ‘only the Toon’ fashion with a late Southampton penalty and a draw that felt like a loss. This is also, sadly, what being a Toon fan means these days.

The opening match against West Ham saw 50,000 people fill the ground despite the lacklustre transfer window. Eighteen months of COVID induced empty grounds, no doubt encouraged many back, God how I missed it. Sadly after leading at half time we witnessed the inevitable second half collapse and massive disappointment.

Next up the Burnley League Cup match and a very decent atmosphere with 30,000 in the ground, helped no doubt by a lot of young fans and give away ticket prices. Nine changes to the starting eleven and the entirely predictable awful performance culminating in crashing out on penalties. Did anyone expect anything else?

So there we are, business as usual, the long slog to PL safety (hopefully) is underway but it will be a hard watch. So why do I bother, why put myself through it again, surely enough is enough? Well no it isn’t and here is why….

FALLING IN LOVE

Newcastle v Rotherham 8th December 1962 was the start. The old second division the back drop. I was 7 and me and my twin brother went to our first game at St James’ Park. My uncle was a copper and on duty in the Leazes end that day. He lifted us over the Leazes end styles and then kept an eye on us. That was it, love at first sight. I have no idea what the score was but just remember standing there transfixed by the occasion. I had never been part of a crowd that size before with everyone focussed on the drama unfolding. I doubt I even knew what was happening and why but the feelings that day stayed with me and that was that. Alan Suddick became my first Toon hero. I remember standing in the Leazes end singing ‘if Suddick goes so do we’. He not long after went to Blackpool. My first disappointment and the first sign that this club would often lack ambition and disappoint. Nevertheless I was totally hooked.

THE WEDDING

Six year later and I had well and truly tied the knot. Somehow Newcastle had managed to qualify for their first ever European competition - the way only the Toon could. We finished 10th that year, yes 10th, but qualified for the Inter Cities Fairs Cup (now the Europa League) on the ‘one city one club’ rule. Man City, Man U, Liverpool, Everton, Arsenal, Spurs and Chelsea all finished above us as did Leeds and WBA but 10th was good enough.

Our first, and my first, European game was against the mighty Feyenoord, the ground was packed to the rafters. I swear my feet never touched the ground as I was wedged tight between fellow supporters in the Gallowgate East Corner. When the ball came up our end the whole crowd would surge forward towards the touch line to get a better view and you would quickly find yourself 10 or 15 yards further forward. Kids at the front would spill onto the cinder track to avoid getting crushed. How no one was ever hurt baffles me to this day.

We ran out comfortable and unexpected winners, 4-0 on the night and our journey to silverware had started. There followed several other glorious nights in the progress to lifting the trophy. Wins against Sporting Lisbon, Real Zaragoza, Vitoria Setubal, Glasgow Rangers and ultimately Ujpest Dosza. I was at them all.

More unforgettable memories were cemented on the way. I even took my first girlfriend (yes, I started young) to the Vitoria Setubal game, this time in the Leazes end. It snowed that night and the Setubal players all came out wearing tights and socks over their hands due to the cold. Gloves were unheard of! They clearly weren’t up for it and we thrashed them 5-1 on the night. What a night.

Glasgow Rangers was another stand out game in the semi final. Hoards of kilted Scotsmen travelled down and ensconced themselves in the Gallowgate end, climbing the pylons and invading the pitch prior to the match to plant a large Scotland flag on the centre circle. The place was bouncing and of course we ran out 2-0 winners and booked our place in the final v Ujpest Dosza.

A magnificent 3-0 victory in the first leg at SJP with 2 rare goals from Bobby Moncur on the way saw us take a comfortable lead to Hungary. Then the inevitable Toon voodoo struck when we found ourselves 2-0 down at half time and the cup slipping from our grasp. Step forward the great Joe Harvey ( a truly motivating manager - remember them?) who told the team at half time that if we scored a goal the Hungarians heads would drop. Sure enough we scored and went on to beat them 3-2 on the night and 6-2 on aggregate with a winner from Alan Foggon. Our first silverware since 1955 and surely the start of a return to regular glory days and a bright future…

THE MARRIAGE GOES STALE

Alas it was not to be. We did reach the FA Cup Final in 1974 losing to Liverpool 3-0 (we never turned up) after an incredible journey that saw us have to replay the quarter final v Nottingham Forest following a pitch invasion and then the euphoria of a semi final at Burnley at Hillsboro. The latter was another stand out match that ensured I stayed hooked. Supermac’s brace and an exquisite through ball for his second from Terry Hibbitt will live long in the memory along with the seething masses of Geordies in the Kop that day. Absolute bliss. I was in there somewhere.

Another abortive attempt at silverware followed in 1976 when we lost 2-1 to Man City in the League Cup Final. The winner a superb overhead kick scored by one Denis Tueart, a Geordie and former pupil at my old school. Apparently he went into the Newcastle dressing room after the game and apologised. Quite right too.

The less said about the following few years the better. I was now living 300 miles away and while there was little to get excited about I still maintained a watchful eye though my relationship with the club was now distant both physically and emotionally.

THE MARRIAGE COUNSELOR

Step forward Kevin Keegan. It is no exaggeration to say this man saved our club and reignited the fire in my relationship with it. I won’t repeat all the well known and documented stories of the ‘Entertainers’ era here. It deserves a separate blog all of its own and everyone is no doubt familiar with much of it. Suffice to say we were privileged to watch how a man with boundless enthusiasm, charisma and will to win could transform a club from likely 3rd division fodder to potential First Division Premier League winners in just two seasons. The football along the way was the best I have ever seen at Newcastle and the whole era was littered with memorable moments. Remember, Andy Cole scoring for fun in what felt like every game, David Ginola skipping past that Gary Neville tackle at Old Trafford, Tino’s hat-trick against Barcelona, Philippe Albert chipping Schmeichel in the 5-0 rout of Man U, Gillespie displaying the kind of wing play that seems to have disappeared entirely these days and Peter Beardsley our own Geordie Messi? The list is endless.

Though we failed very narrowly to land the PL title, finishing second twice we really were a joy to watch and everyone’s second team for a reason. We had no idea what sitting back and defending meant, no suffocating 5 at the back at home (or away), no idea when we were beaten, intent only on scoring goals - if the opposition scored 2 we would score 3 or 4. Heady days indeed and a reminder of what the club could and should be. Top 4 finishes were a regularity and European football paid a welcome return to SJP.

To say that the Keegan era was pivotal in rekindling my love for the club is a massive understatement. Despite two later FA Cup Final defeats under Dalglish and Gullit in 1998 and 1999 at least Keegan’s legacy meant I and many others had fallen back in love with the club along with a host of new supporters. Thank you Kevin.

MARITAL UPS AND DOWNS

King Kevin’s (first) acrimonious departure was a bitter blow and the dismantling of the ‘Entertainers’ team by Dalglish and then Gullit was an absolute disgrace. How Dalglish could decide to sell Sir Les Ferdinand after the most prolific partnership with Alan Shearer the previous season beggars belief. Only at the Toon eh?

Still buoyed by the Keegan era we had applied for season tickets. After 8 years on the waiting list we finally got them in 2000 when the ground was extended and so decided to bite the bullet, despite the warning signs, and having a 600 mile round trip. We were elated.

The tickets also gave us an excuse to visit my dad in Newcastle (he had one of the tickets) and later my son Rob who was shortly to go to Newcastle University. The season tickets became not just an excuse to go to the match but the catalyst for some very happy memories with family that would probably never have happened otherwise. Sometimes football and supporting the Toon is about much much more than watching a game of football and that remains the case for me today. The friendships formed and social side of the match, family trips to the Strawberry before the game and a meal in town after to dissect what has just unfolded are an integral part for me and I suspect many others.

A BRIEF RESPITE

The Sir Bobby Robson era provided another uplift at just the right time, starting with an incredible 8-1 home win v Sheffield Wednesday. Like Keegan, Sir Bobby rescued the club from what looked like certain relegation and re-established us as regular European qualifiers. The football improved markedly and we again enjoyed some fantastic European nights including an unbelievable night in 2002 when a 90th minute Bellamy winner in the game against Feyenoord got us through the group stages of the Champions League against all the odds. The first time a team that had lost its opening 3 CL group games qualified for the next round.

Add in players like, Laurent Robert, Olivier Bernard, Shay Given, Kieron Dyer, Gary Speed and of course Craig Bellamy and Alan Shearer and we had a team that once again was a pleasure to watch. Sir Bobby didn’t just restore decent football but also instilled the pride back into the club. Bobby’s love for the club was clear for all to see and how could you not be enthused and captivated? It can all be summed up by this well known spine tingling quote. Sir Bobby absolutely got it….

Enough said - just beautiful. Thank you Sir Bobby.

A VISIT TO THE DIVORCE LAWYERS?

Sadly my dad died in 2007 and of course it was a devastating blow but at least I had enjoyed another 7 years of seeing him regularly and enjoying weekend trips to the Toon with him, my wife Kay and son Rob. You can’t replace that, it is priceless. The lack of season tickets should of course be no excuse for not visiting family but there is no doubt having them made a massive difference and gave an excuse to get together much more regularly.

In some ways it is fortunate that my dad didn’t see what happened next. I remember telling him that the club had been sold and Allardyce had been sacked. I literally did a jig round the office when I heard that the Toon had just been bought by a billionaire, surely the good times would be back now? Well sadly in true Toon fashion we managed to sell the club to a psychotic, tight, ham-fisted, dishonourable, lying, inept, vindictive piece of shit billionaire. His list of transgressions are many and I doubt there is anyone reading this that doesn’t know the full gamut of his disastrous decisions and the impact on the club. This is where my relationship with the club entered its abusive faze and in ways that I would never have thought possible.

Renaming the ground Sports Direct @ St. James' Park Arena, using the club as a free advertising hoarding for his tat shops. The disgraceful way he treated Keegan, Shearer and Hughton. Lying in court. Effectively sacking Gutierrez when he had cancer, employing Joe Kinnear not once but twice, two relegations, one season of European football in 14 years, delaying repayment of season ticket money during COVID, zero fan communication, I could go on but you know the story.

Surely that would be a case for divorce? Well no. A divorce lawyer and many fellow fans would disagree and wonder how that could possibly be. If you have read this far however you will understand how this nutty, exasperating, inspirational club is deeply ingrained in my psyche. It is an indelible part of me and who I am, it has provided some unbelievable highs and lows (some all in the same game , the 4-4 v Arsenal, two 4-3’s v Liverpool and some others already mentioned above). Rafa’s last game the 5-1 win v Spurs when already relegated kind of summed it up, devastating relegation but endless belief and hope that things would get better. The noise and passion at that match was spine tingling and persuaded Rafa to stay and get us straight back up. The positive power of fans.

I will finish with Kevin Keegan’s words which sum it up for me and were brilliantly displayed in the Gallowgate End. Walk away? NEVER

HWTL 🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍

John Waters (aged 66 and a quarter)