An English teacher for over 20 years. Huge football fan and a bloke who writes quite a bit. Average husband and tired father to two sometimes wonderful children. Runner, poet, gobshite who laughs far too much at his own jokes.
No challenge should be faced without a little charm and a lot of style.
Readers, I’m at a difficult stage in my life. Lots of things have come together to unsettle me somewhat over the last year or so. This is a poem that is closely linked to the questions that have arisen and the feeling of not really knowing what to do.
Firstly, there’s my age. I turned 50 last year, leading to the kind of existential questions you might expect; what have I done with my life, could I have been a lot better at life if I’d tried harder and no, seriously, what have I done with my life? That kind of thing.
Turning 50 also (sort of) focuses your mind on the amount of time you might have left, which wasn’t exactly helped by heart trouble at the back end of last year. Let me tell you, if anything is going to channel your thoughts about mortality, it’s lying in a hospital bed wondering if you might die!
The heart episode also made me look ahead in a more positive way; considering ambitions and achievements and also changes to my lifestyle. In short, it made me focus on retirement and what I need to do to get there a little earlier than I might have been planning.
Horizons
Horizons,
staring back, unflinching,
dead eyed and offering no answers,
intent, impassive
yet begging us to continue with our gaze,
fizzing with promise,
aching with hope,
pulsing with the mystery of what could be
a cliff to drop blindly over,
a plain to explore,
a yellow brick road to dance down
or just a maze to get lost in.
Still, time after time we head in their direction
with no plan in place
and no answers guaranteed,
because this may well be all we have.
I wanted to convey the sense of moving forward and its inevitability, while also stressing that fact that I don’t really know what moving forward looks like at the moment. Hence, conflicting ideas about exploring and getting lost. I don’t think I’m too old to explore or take my life in a different direction, but I’m not sure how to do it. So, while there are decisions to be made and temptations ahead, I really don’t know if they’d make me any happier or comfortable than I am now. So, in essence, my mind is focused on moving forward, but in a way I don’t exactly know how to. I presume we all feel like that now and again though.
I liked the idea of a horizon and the fact that we don’t know what’s just past it. So, we can move forward, but can never quite be sure what’s next. I mean, when I went into hospital I was expecting medication and maybe an overnight stay. I kind of knew I’d get fixed, but I wasn’t ready to be told I needed a pacemaker. Nor was I prepared to feel ill for so long or be away from work for months. But, during all of that time, I moved forward, I guess.
So horizons are exciting in a way, while also holding the potential to be absolutely terrifying. If you think of the horizon at sea, then we know that over the horizon there’s more sea, but not exactly what that might hold for us. It could be a good or a bad thing. I think that’s what I’m trying to say in the poem anyway! As ever, I hope that you liked it.
The morning after the night before was never going to be the time to write this blog. No doubt we were all fizzing with much the same excitement and glow of happiness as we head towards the end of one of the most successful seasons in the clubs recent history. I sat down to write, but what came out was nonsense, so I left it and tried to sleep instead. I couldn’t do that either!
After years and years of heartache and underachievement, we can finally lay claim to some whiff of tangible success. Still no silverware, but a lot of other things to grab on to. Where before hope was confined to being all about survival, now it’s taken a very different direction. And while I think it’s in the DNA of any Newcastle fan, any football fan in actual fact to allow themselves to dream, now we can begin to dream a lot bigger than before.
It’s fair to say that the ‘evolution not revolution’ plan for NUFC is ahead of schedule. If you’d asked at the start of the season about what we – fans, players, management and owners – wanted out of the season, I think the consensus of opinion would have just been somewhere in the top 10. Top 4 felt like a leap too far, given some of the other clubs that we’d have expected to challenge for those spots.
Monday night changed all that though. An unusually nerve-wracking 100 minutes or so of football saw us grab the point we needed to qualify for the Champions League next year and prompted huge celebrations for Mags everywhere.
I think the highlight for me was seeing Jacob Murphy’s interview. His reaction was part fan, part player and part child who’s wanted a puppy for years and has finally had one revealed to them in the living room when they’ve got back from school. And that’s not me being cruel. I thought it was lovely to see the sense of wonder written all over his face. The lad was just blown away by what we’ve achieved and I guess by the possibilities that it brings.
As fans, we share that sense of wonder. There’s something brilliantly special about European football and those nights under the lights, especially at St. James’ Park. I still remember the Champions League campaign of 02/03. The Juventus game sticks out in my mind, even though I was at all of our home games. The atmosphere was electric as we’d lost our first 3 group games and needed to win this one to stay alive in the competition. We won and I believe I’m right in saying, would go on to be the first side to qualify from the group stage having lost their first three games.
I was in my seat in the Leazes, but alongside total strangers. It turned out there were three Italians sat next to me and I wondered if they were Juve fans. When Andy Griffin scored our winner it became very clear that they weren’t!
It’s been amusing to see the reactions of fans of other clubs. Many seem to be questioning our value to the competition, but rather than doing that, perhaps they should just be questioning why their own illustrious clubs didn’t make it.
I think we’ll hold our own. We’ll undoubtedly add to the squad before then, but we’ll still have the coaching and tactical brilliance of Eddie Howe and his staff on our side too. During the Ashley years, playing in the Champions’ League again was nothing more than a pipedream. Well, now we’ve got it, there’s no point in half measures. I want to see us tested against the best that our continent has to offer. Not only that though, I have faith in our management and players.
Of course there are questions marks over various aspects of the squad and even the management. Let’s not forget that many of our squad and staff will be entering unknown territory at this level of European football. But, let’s see this as a challenge, an adventure, rather than something to fear.
I couldn’t think about the Champions’ League without thinking of the music. Zadok the Priest they call it and it’s one of those pieces of music that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. King Charles even chose it for his coronation and I’d like to think he’d have it as his walk on music if he ever turned those massive fingers to darts.*
Now we all know the tune, but how many of us know the lyrics? Not many I’m guessing. So, I looked them up as part of writing this and it turns out that they’re much more relevant than you’d have first imagined. To cut a long story short, it’s all about being joyful and happy. One line in particular stands out – “and all the people rejoiced, rejoiced, rejoiced”. It’s not exactly the genius of Lennon and McCartney or Morrisey and Marr, but it made me thnik again about those scenes at full time on Monday night. But, perhaps we ought to think about that line in terms of next season too. We’ve dreamed of having hope for such a long time. Now, we have it. Rejoice, rejoice, rejoice.
Enjoy the Champions’ League, Toon fans!
Just so we’re clear, I do know the relevance of Zadok the Priest to a king and I also don’t expect King Charles to be having a go at darts any time soon. It was just a daft joke.
Every once in a while I write a blog about one of my big interests in life; coaching football. Sometimes it’s because it’s a nice thing to write about and something I’m proud of, sometimes because there’s a problem and other times it’s just in order to vent frustrations that I couldn’t possibly let go on the 13 and 14 year olds that I coach. So thanks for listening, I suppose!
This is the tale of what’s felt like a very long season, hopefully told in a reasonably short and readable amount of words.
In summer of last year, we began our pre-season training with with 10 new players to compliment the 10 that remained from the previous season. At the end of the previous season we’d lost 6 first team players, leaving us severely weakened. To add to that problem, try as we might, we couldn’t arrange any friendly matches where we could test the team out and check on who could be where on the field. So, while we’d trained well, we went into our first league game of the 22/23 season having played one match together as a team. Barring a miracle, we were going to have problems. Teams just don’t gel as quickly as was required.
We made a predictably poor start to the season, losing our first match 9-1 at home. And it got worse. We lost all of our first 5 games, conceding 47 goals and scoring only 5. By this point we were approaching the end of October. Morale was low and we seemed to be making terrible decisions in every game. It felt like we were a team that had little or no experience of football, even though this wasn’t the case. As a coach, it was becoming all consuming and dominating my thoughts. I just couldn’t seem to find an answer to what was going wrong though.
And then came November…
November saw a number of changes. Firstly, because of my health problems, the team had to operate without a coach. So, it was a case of others at the club pitching in and helping out. It also meant that an already dispirited team had to take yet another blow and also have their entire routine completely turned on its head. Kids are resilient and my lads are ridiculously enthusiastic, but even then some just stopped turning up altogether. In fact, several key players wouldn’t be seen at training or games for a another couple of months. Neither would I, but that’s a different story.
As bad as November was though, it represented a turning point in our season. I had a bit of time to think in hospital and decided to tinker with the system that the team played. Even though I didn’t take the match, I spoke to the coach who was taking the team about how I wanted them to play. We got beat again, but this time only 3-2. There was definite progress. So, we kept the system the same in the hope that we could control games a little bit better.
Results improved and defeats were narrow. But they were still defeats.
Terrible winter weather meant a host of postponed games though and this in turn meant that I wasn’t missing games. So, by the time then end of January came round I’d only missed 3 games.
We finally won a game in my second game back as coach. I couldn’t do the setting up of equipment before the game as I wasn’t well enough, but I could give the team instructions and coach in a slightly reserved fashion from the touchline. And by now I had some help too from one of the parents, so that particular burden wasn’t solely on my shoulders.
Some of our parents rallied round too and began coming out earlier on the Sunday mornings when we had home games in order to doing the setting up of goals and other matchday stuff, which was very nice of them.
That first win came against the team that were top of the league at the time and it was such an almighty relief. I can still remember talking to the players and parents at full time, telling the lads how proud I was of them and welling up with the emotion of it all. Not the emotion of the game, but of what I’d been through and the team had been through since the start of the season.
A couple of games later we gained a draw, again while playing a team a long way above us in the league. The new style of playing was paying dividends; even when we got beat we were competing. We were also finally off the bottom of the league. That said, we lost our next three games and our form as still really patchy. There were times we played well, but more times when we played like the team who first stepped onto the field in September.
By this point it was the middle of April. My health had improved and I was able to play a much fuller part as coach. The lads were still enthusiastic, with 17 or 18 regularly turning up for training and always a full squad of 16 for games. The atmosphere in the group had changed and we were all optimistic once more. It was time to change our style of play again and start to attack teams more, rather than crowding the midfield and disrupting the opposition.
Suddenly, we won two games on the bounce and everyone was smiling. We’d moved up another position in the league and the lads were going out expecting to give teams a tough game at least. Parents were enjoying coming to games and the lads were getting what their hard work had deserved. I think some other coaches in our division had looked at those early results and saw us as a push over and our upturn in form prompted some different reactions. Some were really pleased for us, telling the lads how well they’d done, while others were clearly shocked at getting beat by us and would spend the time after matches shouting at their teams.
As a coach, it felt great to have changed people’s opinions. Earlier on in the season I’d had to keep my mouth firmly shut as opposition players and sometimes even coaches openly laughed at us after their teams had beaten us. I heard some awful comments and it really wound me up for the second half of the season when I was able to be back on the touchline. Now, I got to watch on as they were forced to congratulate us on a good game when they hadn’t got the result they wanted, despite winning or better still lost all sense of composure when we’d beaten them. I’d made a mental note of some of them from earlier in the season, so it felt particularly good to take the points away from them.
In our final 6 games of the season, we only conceded 17 goals and scored 14. Compare that to the 47 conceded & 5 scored in the first 5 games. If I say so myself, it was a remarkable turnaround for a team that had been in the bottom position in the division for a lot of the season and lost their coach for a few months in the middle of the season.
All in all it’s been a hell of a season. Tough in so many different ways and it’s felt like there haven’t been many weeks when something didn’t go horribly wrong. But we’re all still here! We’ve not had success in a traditional way, but we’ve certainly been successful in my opinion. I think the lads have learnt a lot about themselves and their resilience, as well as what it takes to be part of a team.
It looks like we’ll keep almost all of the squad together too, so we’ll get to build on all of our positives next season. Hopefully my health will hold out too! Whatever happens, I can look back on the fact that we turned things around and ended up with a little bit of a memorable season to think back on over summer.
I used to write these pieces every so often during the Steve Bruce era. They became a good way of getting my anger and frustration out there without harming myself or anyone else. A good test of my imagination thinking of news ways to insult Steve Bruce as well. People seemed to like them too.
This one obviously has a much more positive feeling to it. Apart from anything else, we’re closing in on the end of a magnificent season and some kind of European football next season, although I’m far too superstitious to even speculate about the name. As well as that though, Thursday night was our victory against Brighton and Hove Albion and I think there’s a lot to talk about.
I wasn’t there; I watched on telly. And that’s part of the problem, really. After leaving work, I spent quite a long time taking in various media perspectives about the game, as you do. Big mistake. Listening to the radio, reading stuff on the internet and watching the Sky coverage tainted my night because it made me so angry. You’d have thought we were somehow playing Brazil ’70 from the tone of the national media, such were the glowing Brighton tributes and vague predictions made. Eventually it really got my back up.
There’s been a lot of bias this season. A lot of the national media seem to be against us and I don’t mind that so much, having gotten used to it over the years. It becomes hard to ignore though, when it’s the dominant factor in the coverage.
Brighton are a good side. Their league position suggests as much and I’ve watched enough of them to realise that they play lovely football. But, away from home against a side higher in the table? I couldn’t get my head around the praise that was being thrown their way. Recent losses seemed to be ignored in favour of talking up their win against Arsenal at the weekend, while our recent losses and the draw at Leeds were mentioned with a sense of doom. All very odd, if you ask me and really disrespectful when you think of the brilliance of Eddie’s Mags this season. But a lot of the media seemed to see a Brighton win as some kind of inevitability.
I turned off Talksport’s coverage after approximately four minutes after they’d got the name of the stadium wrong and then talked about something at the Gallowgate End that was clearly the Leazes. I know that the answer is just not to listen to that particular station, but I was away from the telly and just wanted a bit of pre-match build up. Bigger fool me.
The Sky coverage felt no better and there was a sense of doom about the whole thing. It didn’t seem to matter how well we were playing; Brighton had made four changes, there were a lot of young players playing and did you know they’d beaten Arsenal at the weekend? Call me paranoid, but it felt like the two clowns on commentary wanted Brighton to win, more than anything. The quality of our performance didn’t get that much airtime because Brighton played out from the back – largely unsuccessfully – and passed the ball round making nice patterns on the pitch. Personally, I’ll take our four goals any day of the week.
Which brings me on to a more positive note about last night. I thought we were excellent. Better than when we hammered Spurs, even though we didn’t score as many. As good as Brighton might be – and they are a good side – we were simply a lot better.
I felt that we bullied them. The Sky commentators seemed to think it was some kind of moral victory that Brighton stuck to their principles and kept on trying to play out from the back. Yet, our press was incredible and on another day, given the amount of times Brighton panicked and tied themselves in knots, we could have gone in 5-0 up at the break, just from chances created while pressing high.
It’s said that in the pre-match huddle Kieran Trippier tells the lads the same thing, every time; pressure is a privilege. And Thursday night must have brought with it a fair amount of pressure for those players. Unlike some former Newcastle United teams however, we didn’t fold. Instead, we rose to the challenge, reveled in the pressure and imposed our game on Brighton to great effect and a Brighton side that have outplayed both Arsenal ad Man Utd recently didn’t really have a kick in that first half.
Eddie’s tactics were spot on and I particularly liked the ploy of using Miggy to close down their keeper quickly. We obviously felt he had an error in him and he did. Sadly, we just couldn’t capitalise on them. Callum Wilson was excellent here too and Lewis Dunk was repeatedly forced to go back to the keeper for a way out of the holes he was digging.
Eventually, we succeeded in breaking them down with Trippier’s delivery proving too much for Brighton. Before that though, we’d harassed the life out of both full backs and I actually felt a bit sorry for Estupinan at left back as Miggy went past him time and again. The poor lad looked totally befuddled by it all. I’m guessing the atmosphere didn’t help either.
Funnily, having mentioned the commentary earlier, I initially thought that the bloke had called out ‘Oh God’ when we scored, rather than ‘Own goal’. It wouldn’t have been a surprise!
Later on, when Brighton managed to see a bit of the ball and pulled a goal back, we never looked panicked and it was a thoroughly professional display. Definitely one of Nick Pope’s easier nights.
As we went 3 and then 4-1 up, I allowed myself to think a bit about Europe. We shouldn’t be afraid, whatever competition we end up in. The media will talk of us being tested by the big boys, but I wonder what the big boys will make of the bear pit atmosphere of a midweek game under the lights at St. James’ Park?
A year ago we were fighting relegation. Two years back and we were in the depths of despair watching a team with no confidence play for a manager with no tactics and suffering transfer window after transfer window of disappointment. The balance sheet champions.
Now, we’re Eddie Howe’s black and white army. Bring on the European adventure, I say!
As lots of you know, I suffered a bit of a health setback in November of last year when I was admitted to hospital and had to have a pacemaker fitted. It was a shock, but not in terms of feeling unwell. The truth was that I’d been struggling with heart ‘episodes’ since around May last year. I just made a really stupid choice in trying to manage it and hide it from everyone. My distinct lack of medical training allowed me to have faith in the fact that it would probably just go away.
Despite all of this, I’d kept on going out running, striving to build fitness while all along fully aware of the palpitations and dizzy spells I suffering on an every more regular basis. I never felt bad when running though, so I kept going.
On Sunday 15th May last year, I ran the Pontefract 10k in West Yorkshire, finishing in just over 51 minutes. I felt great.
By May 28th I was a complete mess and was forced to reveal a little bit of what was going on to my family when I had my worst episode of the year. The palpitations got so bad that my whole body was shaking. This lasted for around 6 hours and for almost all of this I managed to hide what was happening. I was forced to confess as we were due to go out to a gig and I was worried I may well collapse. Miraculously, I didn’t end up in hospital as, with a bag packed, I suffered a dizzy spell that shook me from the feet up and levelled my heart rate back out. I was exhausted, but fine, so no need for a doctor. It couldn’t and didn’t last though.
In October I collapsed in Manchester Airport as we were heading off for a break. Again, fate intervened as the ambulance was unavailable, so we went on holiday, took things easy and vowed to visit the doctor when home. But my ‘luck’ was about to run out. It was while waiting for an appointment at hospital that I ended up being admitted to a ward anyway, a month later. The rest, as they say, is history.
To cut a long story short, I set myself some goals in hospital. One of them was to get fit and run the Pontefract 10k in May of 2023. Despite several setbacks along the way, I achieved my goal a couple of weekends ago. Here’s how it went.
Having only been able to manage three full weeks of training, I was beyond nervous on the morning of the run. I hadn’t actually ran a full 10k since the previous October and knew that once I got to 5.5 miles (8.85km) I was in unknown territory as far as my heart – and actually more importantly, my legs – were concerned. With a minute to go, standing on the start line, I felt a little bit sick and more tired than I’d hoped for. My previous training run had gone well and I’d felt stronger than I did now. Talk about bad timing! Surely all I had to do was start running and keep going though?
The Pontefract 10k course is affectionately described as ‘undulating’. In truth, it’s tough and hills seem to dominate. So, even though I knew what was coming as I took the first turn out of the park that it starts in, I allowed myself a wry smile as my heart sunk (metaphorically, don’t panic) at the sight of the first long climb. If I’m right, it’s about a kilometre long and really a lot steeper than you’d like as you set off on a 10k race.
Around about 5 or 6 minutes later, as I finally crested said hill, my legs felt wobbly to say the least. However, knowing that there was a stretch of flatter running to come calmed me a bit.
The course feels like it takes you up more than it does down, which as it starts and finished in the same place can’t be true. But as each hill appeared, I began to feel doubts seeping in. I covered the first couple of miles in around 18.5 minutes, so although I was going slower than I’d have liked, I was steady. My goal was to run it in under an hour, but I was more hoping that I’d be close to 55 minutes as this had been what my training had indicated I was capable of.
I ran a focused race. Just telling myself to shorten my stride and keep plodding along for hills or lengthen it for flat sections or downhills bits. When heading downhill I was careful not to get too carried away though as the course has a nasty habit of following a lovely downhill section with a punishing climb. I tried not to look at my watch too often in order to check times and distance, but as the race went on and I got more tired, it proved too much and I was making checks on a far too regular basis, which didn’t help me.
Turning at halfway, I was greeted with the usual big hill, which then takes you left and up another one. During these climbs I started to doubt myself a little bit, but was spurred on somewhat by the fact that some people had began to walk. Despite being encouraged to do so by my family, walking was never an option for me, but although the sight of others doing this lifted my spirits a bit, it did nothing for my legs! I’d also started to feel sick by this point too, but I knew there was a water station a mile or two ahead, so just hoped that I could reach that point incident free.
Underpinning every step I took, both in training and the race itself, was the fact that this was a major goal I’d set while lying in a hospital bed feeling very sorry for myself. In short, I was determined that I’d finish, on my feet, running. And I’d finish in under an hour!
The hills just seemed to keep on coming though and despite the fact that I’ve ran the race twice before, I still couldn’t work out when they’d end. Every time I dragged myself up one, it felt like there was another in the distance and I’d lengthen my stride for the flat section before steeling myself for the energy sapping climb to come!
The water station came and went and I grabbed a bottle, being careful just to sip some in order to avoid being sick. Lots of runners take a swig and discard their bottle pretty quickly, but I decided I’d just keep mine until I saw my family near the end. I’d be able to just keep taking regular sips in order to keep going. Those hills didn’t want to stop though!
Every so often on the route, people had come out of their houses to cheer the runners on and the support was invaluable to me this year. It’s naturally quite encouraging and people say the loveliest things as you run past, although not the most accurate. Whoever called out, “looking good” as I ran past in the last few kilometres clearly needed an eye test! I was also struck by one old man’s generosity of both thought and gesture as we approached the last sections of the race. He’d bought a few crates of bottled water and was using his Sunday morning to help people out. It was a lovely gesture and although I was clinging on to my water station bottle and didn’t need any more, it distracted me for a little while and took my thoughts away from how tired I was.
The race ends on the same stretch that it begins with, meaning the uphill start is reversed. I’ve never been happier to be at the top of a hill! I’d checked my watch and knew that the 6 mile mark (almost 10kms) was approaching, so I lengthened my stride once more and ran faster. I knew that my family would be somewhere on the hill, waiting for me, but as yet I couldn’t see them. Knowing they were there really helped though.
About halfway down the hill I spotted them and I knew they’d be able to see me. It spurred me on that little bit more and I picked up speed once again. The last thing I wanted was to worry them and I knew I wouldn’t look too good, so moving faster was my only hope!
Passing them, I knew that the final bend, leading to the last straight was about 30 seconds away. Time seemed to be moving faster than I would have liked though and the clock was getting uncomfortable close to the hour mark.
Two runners passed me at the very start of the final straight. I told myself out loud to let them go – normally I would have kicked on again and tried to catch them. But now, I was exhausted and my only goal was just to get over the finish line.
I was aware that I was moving fairly quickly though. Somehow I’d found the strength to not quite sprint, but to move a great deal quicker than I’d been doing in the last few miles! At this point in the race people are lining the road and everyone cheers the runners on loudly; but not as loudly as my family. My wife, daughter and son had cut across a field to get to the final stretch and I could hear them shouting encouragement as I got close to the finish. The trouble was, I couldn’t see the finish. Normally, there’s a big arch, but this year just a small sign, so for far longer than was comfortable I was unaware of exactly where I was.
By now my competitive streak had kicked in and I checked over both shoulders, sensing that other runners would be finishing strongly too. To my amazement, it seemed like no one was close, so I turned my head around briefly to check. The nearest runner was at least 20 yards behind me. No one else would pass me now. But then I noticed that up ahead, one competitor was walking. It was a club runner that I’d been close to for the last half of the race, but he’d gotten away from me while I was flagging. I sped up – fractionally – feeling that he was sure to hear me and run, but he didn’t and I was able to make up one more place in the finishing order.
Just when I thought it would never come, the finish line was mere yards away. I could see the clock ticking on. 59.50. My watch was reading a minute less, but that would be my time over the start line, not my gun time. Again, I kicked. I could just dip under the hour mark. Using every last bit of energy, I made it, crossing the line in a time of 59.58!
In amongst the feelings of sheer joy, I must admit that I welled up at the end. Having set this as a goal 6 months previously and nearly not made it, it was a little bit overwhelming. But I wasn’t going to cry in front of hundreds of runners and spectators, so I gritted my teeth, covered my face a bit and took some deep breaths. Job done!
By the time my family located me, I’d picked up my medal, grabbed a bottle of water and was waiting in the queue for a t-shirt. As I stood, my legs were rapidly cramping up though. I knew I hadn’t been able to train enough and was fully aware of what the last 10k had taken out of me. I was so tired that I didn’t have the strength left in my legs to stand still and stretch in order to get rid of the cramp! My wife had to hold onto me, so that I could balance and stretch. Later, when I had to go and take a match for my youth football team things would get worse as I kept getting cramp in my feet, but couldn’t balance in the stretch position needed to alleviate the problem!
So 6 months on from my operation and I feel like I’ve finally achieved something tangible. I certainly feel a great deal more like my old self, even if it’s been a long road to get here. I guess there’s nothing else for it than to keep moving forward. So, where and when is the next race that I can enter?
When I got ill at the back end of last year, it’s safe to say that it came as a bit of a shock. I should have known really, as I’d been having problems with my heart for around six months. I just didn’t really let anyone know, preferring to keep things to myself in the hope that it would just pass. It’ll come as no surprise to learn that I have no medical qualifications whatsoever…
After having my pacemaker fitted, life changed. I didn’t really realise just how poorly I was. To me, this was just a setback and while I was in hospital where the biggest ask of the day was to avoid the attention of the bloke in the opposite bed, I felt okay.
It was the recovery that would cause me problems. I was constantly tired, unable to do lots of previously routine things and ended up being signed off from work for 4 months.
The poem is about the changes that I felt happening at the time.
Adjustments
The white beard is the most noticeable thing,
and it's salt and pepper by the way, if we're trying to be kind,
but when one side of you doesn't really work
one's vanity is forced to take a back seat.
The worried looks and constant stream of questions
come from both sides; yours because you see what I don't,
mine because I feel what you cannot.
The daily walk in the early morning frost and biting cold
is new; pleasant and frustrating all at the same time,
a conundrum that's vital if I'm to get any better.
The layers help because everything and everywhere is cold
and channeling my inner Inuit is the only way I know of fighting back
and easily the best way of hiding too.
The fractured sleep and vivid dreams are an irritant,
but one that I have lots of time to deal with all of a sudden.
The lethargy just isn't me.
not usually,
but then, there's nothing of the usual about this present normality.
Similarly, the new sleep positions are restrictive,
but then again the lack of choice might just set me free.
Or keep me awake.
As for the guilt and the fear, well there's no positive spin
to be found here; a work in progress is what it is I guess and I have it on the authority of those in cardiology that these things will eventually pass.
Life will move on in time and a new version of me can finally emerge,
whenever that may be.
For now, I have to make adjustments.
The title was the first that came to me in the writing of this poem, which is unusual as I usually struggle for a title. I was thinking about the way things had changed for me while I was ill. I wasn’t working, my routine was different and even my appearance had changed. Thinking about it all was an unavoidable yet dangerous thing to do though as it never failed to make me feel down. At times not only did it feel like everything had changed, but also that it would never go back to normal.
In short, I came upon the idea of these somewhat traumatic changes being more like adjustments. I was still me…just adjusted in quite a few ways. It didn’t matter if I could shave or wash properly. It didn’t matter that for a while even 10 or 15 minutes of walking left me exhausted and it didn’t matter that I felt frightened or guilty; I had to tell myself that it would pass. And as frustrating as it was that it took so long to feel even vaguely normal, what mattered had to be that one day I’d feel like myself again, even if I’d had to make a few adjustments along the way.
I hope you enjoyed the poem and that anyone who reads regularly isn’t getting bored of me telling them I was poorly once!
P.S. In case you’re wondering, the picture is of an Inuit, as referenced in the poem. It was how I felt out walking in winter in the big coat, hat, gloves, scarf and several layers that were needed to make me feel like I might make it home from a walk and not be half human, half block of ice!
I had no intention of writing about Newcastle United at this moment in time. Too many other things taking up my time. But then, as far as Newcastle United is concerned stuff just seems to happen, doesn’t it? And sometimes, when it does, we feel forced to speak up.
I wanted to remind anyone who reads this of the fantastic season we’ve had as supporters of Newcastle United. Because at the moment, from an ever increasing number of sources, you’d think we were fighting relegation again. We seem to have got to a point in time where despite the obvious facts of the matter – we’re an incredible football team and a massive club again – Newcastle United might still be a bit too divided at times.
Following the defeat against Arsenal, some fans couldn’t help but react. The finger of blame was pointed – via social media of course – at some of our players, when in reality it was a combination of factors that led to the loss. Essentially we weren’t as good as we have been, we got a bit unlucky, didn’t quite take our chances and Arsenal did. A lenient ref and a questionable VAR call didn’t help either.
Yet, it felt like quite a few people decided it was the fault of players like Bruno or Joelinton. And while I’m not averse to giving a bit of constructive criticism, I don’t think anyone was to blame for that defeat. Certain players could have done better, of course, but no one handed Arsenal the points. On another day, Botman blocks the first as he’s done all season and we defend the second better.
I think, given what he’s done at the club in little over a year, Bruno Guimaraes should just be praised to the rafters. The lad’s a star and he clearly loves our club. I didn’t think he had a great game against Arsenal, but he certainly wasn’t at fault either. He was clearly targeted from the word go and so it was always going to be a tough game. He’ll be back to his best in no time at all. No need for the keyboard critics to have their often overly emotive say.
The same can be said for Joelinton too. He’s a player transformed and we are without doubt a better side for him being there. As the song says, “we think he’s f***ing brilliant”.
We’re at a stage in the season where the abuse is coming at us from all sides. To be fair, we’ve had it all season, but it seems to be intensifying at the moment. Success breeds contempt, I suppose. It also makes fans of other clubs jealous. So, right now we’ve got the regular baiting coming from Everton and Villa fans in the ‘my dad’s bigger than your dad’ debate. We’re being labelled cheats where others are praised for their game management. Stories of our star players heading to other ‘bigger’ clubs have even started up. Football fans across the country have suddenly grown a social conscience in order to have a go at us for selling our souls too. And there’s even a Twitter account dedicated to criticising our assistant manager. I mean, you know you’ve gotten under someone’s skin when that type of thing happens! For the record though football fans, wind your necks in where Mad Dog’s concerned!
This negativity comes from jealousy. It’s as simple as that. So, we’re subjected to negative judgements of our support, our ownership and our players from certain corners of the media and all corners of social media. It’s the kind of stuff we need to be laughing off. You might say that this is the future for Newcastle United, because in our country, we don’t like success. Build them up to knock them down, that’s what they say in Britain, isn’t it? Team photos after a win? If it was other clubs doing it, their fans would love it too. Drink it in, I say! They also never tire of telling us how much money has been spent, usually inaccurately. And yet, fans of most other clubs would love to have a Miggy, a Sean Longstaff, a Fabian Schar or a Joelinton, all of whom were here before the takeover. But that’s a fact they conveniently ignore.
Rather than criticising our own or squabbling with fans of other clubs desperate to see us fail, why don’t we just focus ourselves? Whatever happens now, there’s European football at the end of it. I get superstitious about predictions, so I won’t make one, but even I can’t ignore the fact that we’re in 3rd place in the league. So instead of negativity and worry, try to remember your season highlights. The 6-1 v Spurs, the grit showed in the 3-3 v Man City at home, Isak’s run against Everton or Maxi’s volley against Wolves. Face it, there are too many to ignore. So take a moment, relax and have a think about the sheer number of amazing moments, results and performances we’ve had this season. I’m sure you’ll have more than the one!
There are four games left now and as a fanbase we have a job to do. We focus on Newcastle United. We support in whatever way we can. Sing your hearts out, wave your flags, wear your lucky pants or say a silent prayer to the footballing gods, but help get this team ‘over the line’ as they say. And if that line leads to the Champions’ League, then that’s amazing. We’ll have deserved it. And we’re perfectly capable of getting the points that we need.
Trust in Eddie and Mad Dog, trust in these players, trust in the process. Whatever these next four games bring though, remember: we’ve come a hell of a long way in the last 18 months. Enjoy it!
Eddie Howe and his staff are always positive. So much so that they’ve transformed some of our players. I wrote in my last article about Jacob Murphy getting ‘Eddied’. Well my friends, let’s stay positive; let’s get ‘Eddied’ ourselves.
This is another poem about being poorly. I’m conscious that I’ve written quite a few poems and articles around this theme since the run of the year, but I’m afraid you’ll have to forgive me for getting a little bit obsessed with the failure of my heart.
Luckily, people are always very complimentary about these poems and I’ve received some incredibly supportive messages as I’ve been recovering, which has been a real help. I keep finding these poems tucked away in notebooks on scrap paper and figure that I might as well put them out as a blog. I’ve said this before, but if I don’t they’re just words on a bit of paper that no one other than me will read. Well, what would be the point of a blog in that case?
A Familiar Face
Amazing how, after all this trouble and time,
the answer could be hiding in plain sight.
The thing you feared the most, yet least expected,
the solution to the mystery you'd never have suspected
has come back to haunt you, bring chaos where there was relative calm.
For some time now, you've sensed its approach,
felt the uncomfortable sensation of its hot breath on your neck.
The thing you wouldn't name, but still recognised,
the terror that you lived with, but couldn't look in the eyes
lands a blow to leave you weak at the knees
and grabbing at thin air for balance.
So now, a new danger from a familiar face,
as you fight against yourself, your own failing,
knowing that whatever you do, whatever changes you make
may not be enough
and while all around you wish you well,
offer love, support, concern,
you have never felt so helpless, so frightened, so alone.
There were question marks, asterisks, scribbles and arrows all over this poem when I found it, which suggests that it was another one written in the early hours. The scribbles tell me that it might have been one I wrote after first deciding to go back to bed, but then sitting back down aware that there was another idea or another line still stuck in my head. I’d have been more sleepy than I realised, hence the mistakes and scribbles.
It’s another poem about being ill. This one focuses on the frustration I felt at the fact that my heart worries had come back to trouble me and the fear I had about just how bad I felt post operation.
When I first got poorly having had an episode of palpitations and dizziness in May of last year, I remember explaining to my wife that it frightened me and that I was determined not to end up back in hospital. A month later I was in hospital having tests on my heart. And then, just the other day I read a Facebook memory about a run I’d done in training for the last 10k race that I ran. It was early October of last year and I’d just done my last training run of about 12k and commented that I’d do anything at all to avoid anymore trips to the cardiologist. Sadly, less than a month on, I’d not only collapsed, but had been admitted to hospital to be told the next day that I’d have to have my pacemaker fitted. Life comes at you fast, as they say!
Fingers firmly crossed, but I feel better than I’ve felt in a while, despite a small setback about a month ago. Here’s to less heart-related poetry!
So, this Easter we took a took a trip across the Atlantic for the first time in around 17 years, visiting Toronto and then Washington DC. Both are cities we’ve been to before, but we had our reasons for going back to both.
We have dear friends in Toronto and having not seen them for such a long time, it felt like too good an opportunity to pass up. Our big travels stopped when we had children, meaning at opposite sides of the ocean there were two sets of parents who had watched the other set of kids growing up on the internet! Suffice to say we were all excited to get there.
With Washington – or DC as us seasoned travellers refer to it, somewhat pompously – we just wanted to show our children the sites. It’s been a longstanding joke in our house that when places like The White House or The Capitol Building appear in films, we’ll point out that we’ve been there, much to our children’s frustration! But there’s a lot to see and we felt it was important for them to witness it all first hand.
I didn’t want to write a typical travelogue type piece as the chances are that most readers would already know much about both cities. If they didn’t, then that’s what Google is for. So, instead I’ve done a bit of a Top 10. Toronto today and Washington to follow.
Here’s my Top 10 of Toronto in no particular order.
My friend Andy is an Aussie, who like 94% of all Australians (accurate at time of being completely made up) has found himself living on an entirely different continent. And yes, to answer your inevitable question, he has been a barman once upon a time, I think. He’s lived outside of Oz for over two decades now and amazingly retains his full on Aussie accent. That is, apart from one phrase – “Oh my Gaaaaaaad” – which is always pronounced in a full on Canadian accent. We never talked of this and I’m not even sure that he’s aware of it, but it made me smile again and again, which is enough for it to make my Top 10!
It seems that 99% of Canadians obey the crossing laws. While in England, what those in North America call jaywalking, is simply a way of life, in Canada it feels like everyone waits for permission to cross the road, like one gigantic primary school outing. My wife is an absolute stickler for the crossing rules, so she was naturally thrilled. Me? Bored senseless, gazing down either end of the road seeing no traffic in my way, yet feeling forced to wait for the signal to cross! I can’t deny though that it is a truly incredible phenomenon to watch!
There is an underground walkway that spans nearly 30km and gives access to loads of shops and restaurants, as well as keeping you out of the snow! We’ve now visited Toronto three times and still never used it, mainly due to forgetfulness and being otherwise occupied with sight seeing or searching out Irish bars to watch Premier League football on! This year, we even had a map of ‘The Path’ and still didn’t use it. However, as we were heading to the airport on our final morning, we stopped at a set of lights and there it was…an access point for The Path, the mythical, yet brilliant underground walkway. Maybe next time, Toronto, maybe next time…
The CN Tower seems a blindingly obvious choice for any Top 10 on Toronto, but I just have to mention it. If you don’t know, it’s a huge tower that once upon a time used to be the tallest structure in the world. In fact, it held that title for over 30 years. It was the first thing I pointed out to my kids as we drove into the city and even a glimpse of it makes me smile. Visitors can go up the tower via a very fast elevator and then sample the delights of two different viewing levels, one of which has a section of glass flooring. Sadly, this was being renovated on our latest visit. You can even walk on the outside of one of the viewing areas on the Edgewalk, 116 storeys above the city. Of course, you’d have to be insane to actually sign up for this! Speaking of our latest visit, this year we managed to go up the tower in really poor weather, when it was pouring with rain, thus cutting down our views quite some. However, between the storms – we watched lightning strike just in front of the tower – we were still able to see for miles across the Toronto area and Lake Ontario. At one point, however, we were literally engulfed by a cloud! It was still fantastic to be back at the tower.
Back to a very personal memory of Toronto, again featuring my friend Andy. This is definitely not one you’d find in your average Top 10, though. Years ago, when we first met his then girlfriend, Kim, it made us smile that sometimes, especially when she was a little irked by him, she would refer to him using his full name. So, it will come as no surprise whatsoever to learn that it made us chuckle when it turned out that she still does this! Even my kids noticed it and it’s been mentioned on a fairly regular basis since we got home.
If you visit Toronto as a tourist then it’s almost inevitable that you’ll take a trip to Niagara Falls. After all, it’s said to be one of the mythical ‘Wonders of The World’. Now if you haven’t been you might just think that it’s ‘just’ a waterfall. Let me tell you different. Niagara Falls is simply remarkable, particularly the Canadian side and the Horseshoe Falls which stands 57m high. The sheer volume and force of the water heading over the edge of the waterfall is quite amazing and it really is a sight to behold. You’d think that a river going over a cliff wouldn’t be all that…but it really, really is. And yes, it’s very touristy, but it’s undeniably worth a few hours of your time. We even went into Niagara itself to play glow-in-the-dark mini golf!
Niagara on The Lake is a beautiful small town, near Niagara Falls, where the Niagara River meets Lake Ontario. It’s worth a visit just because it’s so picturesque, but if that wasn’t enough there’s a year round Christmas shop to tempt you too, as well as a number of pubs and various cafes and shops. Strangely, there are an abundance of hat shops too! If you’re not from America or Canada, Niagara on The Lake is the picture perfect small American/Canadian town that you see in your mind when you imagine what this type of place looks like.
On our last full day in Toronto – Good Friday – we went to spend some time with our friends in their neighbourhood. They live in the Beaches area of Toronto and it’s one of the most laid back places I’ve ever visited. On this particular day the streets were packed with parents and children either going to or coming away from Easter Egg hunts, many adorned with bunny ears. We had a gluten free brunch in The Haven cafe before heading down to the beaches that run alongside Lake Ontario and give this neighbourhood its name. It was a gloriously sunny morning and we took a long walk down the boardwalk all the way along the shore, just chatting, laughing and sharing memories. On a few occasions I slowed down and drfited off the back of the group just to watch them all walking along; my wife, my mates and our kids all together for the first time ever! Having been ill for months before this and genuinely wondering if I’d ever be able to do this sort of thing again, it felt completely wonderful and helped me see how much better I am. Finally, I felt relaxed. I think this was the morning that I knew I was going to be alright and that I could start to live properly with my pacemaker.
The wildlife in and around Toronto has always fascinated myself and my wife. On one occasion years ago, my mate Andy toured us around their neighbourhood just so that we could see a racoon. Racoons are the scourge of Toronto bins and residents aren’t too fond of them, but my wife was more interested in how cute they are. Toronto residents have christened them ‘trash pandas’ which I can only think would make them even more appealing to her. Andy also performed a U-turn in the car on another day so that we could go back down the road as he’d spotted a groundhog! On our recent trip, we spotted deer at the side of the highway coming back from Niagara and there seemed to be an abundance of eagles hovering around trees by the lake. However, our wildlife highlight happened on the way to the falls when in Niagara itself we saw a skunk on the pavement! Bizarrely, some locals were feeding it, despite the threat of a spray from said animal leaving them stinking like Satan’s armpits for days.
On the afternoon of Good Friday we visited the Distillery district of the city. This is an area of Victorian industrial buildings that has been revamped and renovated by developers, making a fabulous place to spend some time. It’s just not like a museum as while the buildings retain their industrial look, the district is made up of shops, restaurants, galleries and cafes. It was lovely and sunny when we went and such a striking place to see. The Distillery District gave us a brilliantly relaxed afternoon of shopping and wandering pretty aimlessly. Exactly what we needed after a hectic few days since arriving in Toronto. However, our relaxation was cut short when we got a text from our old Uni friend. Judith, telling us that she was in a brewery bar on the other side of the city if we wanted to come and meet. And so, we were on the march again, as we were quite a way out of town.! Thankfully our race across Toronto wasn’t in vain and we were in time to meet up and spend a lovely couple of hours chatting about our lives in Toronto and the UK before heading back to our hotel to pack for the next leg of our trip.
I’d thoroughly recommend Toronto. It’s a hugely welcoming city and there’s always something to do. I certainly didn’t struggle to put a Top 10 together; in fact I could have written a lot more. The best thing about the place though, is that it’s generally very friendly and welcoming. Even when we went searching out places in unfamiliar districts we felt safe, which is essential if you’re visiting with kids.
I hope you enjoyed my Top 10. It’s possibly a little bit different in places, but if you were after a guide, then Google can probably help! Hopefully though, there’s enough here to whet your appetite for a visit!
It’s been a busy April with an amazing transatlantic trip, time at home to rest afterwards, the start of my first term back at work with an almost full teaching timetable and some glorious grassroots football. There’s been a lot to leave me exhausted, but a lot to make me smile as well.
So here’s the latest edition of this occasional series.
A brilliant holiday. I have a blog ready to go about part 1 of this trip, so I won’t go into too much detail. It couldn’t be ignored though. The first leg of our trip took us back to Toronto, a city we’d last visited about 17 years ago, pre-children (otherwise known as our fun years!). The city brought lots of smiles simply by being Toronto, as it’s one of our favourites. However, what made me smile most – while at the same time having a transformative effect on my recovery from health issues – was seeing dear friends again. We have friends in Toronto who I first met over 20 years ago, while I was in my first teaching post. My mate Andy is an Aussie who was travelling at the time and spending some time in the UK. Somehow, he found his way to a small village somewhere in the hinterland between Leeds and Castleford in West Yorkshire. We connected instantly and have been laughing ever since. His girlfriend. now wife Kim, is a Torontonian and thus they settled there. She is also a fantastic person and again, someone who loves a laugh. Suffice to say, the two couples have always got on well. It was just an absolute blessing to spend time with them again (and with their fantastic children) and it felt like we’d never been apart. My health issues felt like they lifted in Toronto and kept moving away in Washington DC (our second port of call) and I genuinely feel much more optimistic about things now. Washington DC was everything you’d expect. Again, we’d been before, but it was great to be back. At times DC is like walking through a film set because you’ve seen so much of it before on screen. Suffice to say, the sheer amount of iconic buildings and monuments brought a great big grin to my face!
I Am The Champion! We flew Aer Lingus to and from our destinations. I’d never flown with them before, but I’d thoroughly recommend them having now done so. However, what I achieved on the flights was the thing that made me smile. In amongst the selection of films and TV shows to watch or even music to listen to, I stumbled upon the games. At first, I stuck to playing video pool which I wasn’t very good at. But then I found the Trivia game which was to all intents and purposes a general knowledge quiz. Now, I class myself as someone who knows a lot of ‘stuff’. Pub quiz knowledge, you might say. And to cut a long story short, by the end of my flight home I was not only first, but also second on the leaderboard, thus enabling me to crown myself as Aer Lingus Trivia World Champion! If anyone at the airline reads this and wants to send me my trophy, I’d be most grateful!
Spring! To be honest, it’s not got a great deal warmer here in the UK, but Spring has definitely sprung. The usual things about this made me smile: the blossom on the trees, the definite sense that there’s less rain about and the blooming of flowers like daffodils and crocuses in our garden. But the thing that made me smile the most was the sight of my back lawn, freshly cut after 3 legs of cutting it over three days, due to the fact that it had suddenly grown to about a foot long in lots of places! When our particular jungle is tamed, it makes a real difference!
I’m running again! I’ll keep this short as I could do without cursing myself and this ending up as another false start, but I’m running again. I feel much stronger and fitter and for the past two weeks have been out running twice a week. I’m building up to one of my big recovery goals, which I think will be very difficult, so wish me luck! Getting out running – especially an early morning one last Saturday – has got me smiling again.
5. Giraffes! My daily visit to the BBC website is always a good source for something heartwarming and a few days ago I read a story about Giraffes on Tour, a charity associated with the Great Ormond Street Children’s Hospital. They were filling every seat with a toy giraffe on a routine refueling flight in order to raise money for the hospital. So, children had temporarily donated their toy giraffe to go on the flight, presumably in return for a cash donation, and then on their return they got not just their toy back, but a certificate too. It’s a lovely story and another brilliant example of the kind of charity work that most of have no idea goes on. And if that doesn’t make you smile, have a look at the photos!
Middle Age Fanclub 