Matt Ritchie: This is a Party Political Broadcast!

The dust has just about settled on one of the most successful seasons in Newcastle United’s recent history. The majority of our thoughts – and those of the players and staff – have inevitably turned to the prospect of top level European football next season. It’ll still that way for a while yet. However, there are other matters to attend to. Transfer targets seem to be emerging in their hundreds and as they do, we’re also being informed about players who are likely to be released.

One of those names is Matt Ritchie and while there are lots of fans who’d be happy for him to leave, I think he’s well worth at least another year. I think that there are lots of us who agree with that too.

So why vote Ritchie, so to speak?

Brought to the club for £10m by Rafa Benitez in 2016, Ritchie was a vital component in our promotion from the Championship a year later. He was a player I’d seen at Swindon and Bournemouth and always liked the look of. Seven years later and I think he’s been worth every last penny of that transfer fee and then some. A loyal and popular servant to the club and always a player that we could rely on.

I’ve always liked Ritchie at Newcastle. I’ve always liked wingers, so he fits the bill. But also, I like the competitive edge he brings, the creativity and even the odd spectacular goal, like the volleyed stoppage time equaliser at Bournemouth in 2019. Add in the penchant for lacing corner flags and over-enthusiastically slapping team mates on the back of the head and I’m sold! A few years back, I even managed to get his image up in every classroom of our school when I added him to our ‘Word of The Week’ posters – a personal highlight of my teaching career!

Ritchie will be almost 34 by the time next season kicks off. But let’s not worry about age; let’s put some value on experience, because experience can take you a long way in life. Every squad needs experience and positivity and Ritchie’s got both in spades.

Next season – everything crossed – we hope to be playing in Europe and while Matt Ritchie to my knowledge has never played in a European tie, he has played on the international stage with Scotland earning 16 caps and scoring 3 times. So, in my opinion his career experience at league level and his international experience make him a valuable asset to the squad and a player that needs to stick around.

Ritchie is versatile too, as we found out in the Bruce era. When Bruce finally discovered that tactics weren’t the little sweets in the flip top plastic box, Matt Ritchie became one of his first victims and he was deployed as a makeshift wingback. It worked in fits and starts, but I think Eddie would get more out of him if needed there. While most of his career has been spent as a wide midfielder, I think it’s safe to say that he can do a job in central midfield as well as operating as a wing back. And while I wouldn’t say he’s a perfect option as a wing back, he’s an option and a reasonably dependable one at that.

Now, before I go any further with my Matt Ritchie Pitch, I think it’s necessary to acknowledge the fact that Newcastle United are shopping at a different level of the market these days. So, yes, I understand fully that there are better options in terms of age and ability than Matt Ritchie, but those options cost money in what is undeniably an inflated market and with the club insistent, rightly, on adhering to the rules of Financial Fair Play it would seem pertinent to keep someone like Ritchie around. He knows the club and seems to love it, totally understands the manager’s methods and demands, is well liked by the fanbase and obviously a popular bloke within the squad. He might even be a good option to help out on the coaching side of things as the year progresses.

Ritchie is the kind of character who is invaluable ‘around the place’, as they say. The back-of-the-head slaps as goal celebrations, the corner flag kicking, the passion, the berating of linesmen, the honesty, the chirpiness, the energy and the fight; all vital in any team sport. And then there’s his experience. As we’re more likely to be bringing more younger, inexperienced players in someone like Ritchie would be sure to have a positive influence on them. As well as this, with the likes of Anderson, Miley, De Bolle, Kuol and others coming through the ranks the influence of such an experienced pro would no doubt be more than useful. Earlier this season it was Sean Longstaff who talked of Ritchie’s influence on his professionalism and mental health in the last couple of years and look at him now – a glowing reference if ever there was one.

Apparently Ritchie is a bit of a whinger and it’s borne out on the pitch where he’s always been vocal with his team mates and contested the majority of decisions that have gone against us. I kind of like that as it shows him as someone who won’t settle for second best. Yes, he’ll whinge, but just because he wants to be better.

For me, Matt Ritchie brings a wealth of positives. His influence on the pitch would probably only really be as a substitute, but he’s a solid ‘yes’ for me just for that. Add in his character and personality – he seems well loved by squad and staff alike – his drive and desire to win, his professionalism and his experience and I think a year’s extension sounds almost a no brainer.

Eddie Howe has already expressed his desire to keep Ritchie, alongside others like Paul Dummett. Someone like Ritchie helps to maintain our ‘evolution not revolution’ approach, while understanding exactly what it takes to play for Newcastle United and for me that’s the kind of thing that can’t always be bought and simply shouldn’t be disregarded.

My friends, I implore you, Vote Ritchie!

Top 10 Washington DC: The best bits of our Easter break.

In April we took the chance to take a long haul ‘trip of a lifetime’ with our children. It was a window of opportunity that was too good to miss, given that our kids are either taking big exams next year or starting a vital stage of their education. So, off we went.

You might have read about our trip to Toronto, which was the first leg of our holiday. It’s on the link below, if not.

Top 10 Toronto: Some highlights of our trip.

For the second leg we decided to do some sightseeing in Washington DC. So, here’s our Top Ten of the American capital in no particular order.

  • Pi Pizza Pi Pizza seems to mostly be available as a takeaway option, but we went to their restaurant twice for several different reasons. It’s at 910 F Street NW, if you’re ever nearby and it’s well worth a visit. The pizza was amazing and they had a gluten free base available too. The staff were great, getting us seated really quickly without a reservation on our first night in town and there was an great choice of beers. I guess it’s a long way to travel for a pizza, but the whole family enjoyed it so, so much that it was easily one of my favourite things about the trip!
  • We saw the President! Probably. Possibly. One morning, we were sitting in the window seats of our favourite breakfast place when I noticed a motorbike cop pull into the middle of the road. Within seconds he was off the bike and redirecting traffic, which really piqued our interest. Moments later another bike appeared to help out. Then, within seconds outrider after outrider sped down the street, eventually followed by some very chunky black Cadillacs. This was someone important. And then it happened; three huge black Cadillac Escalades with blacked out windows and flags on the front swept by followed by even more cars and even more bikes. When they passed, life returned to normal very quickly and it was only on as we made our way to Dulles airport days later that we were offered an explanation. According to our taxi driver – and who knows better than those fellas? – what we described was very likely to be the president, due to the amount of cars and the type of flags! Nice seeing you, Mr. President!
  • Crossings. If you read my Top 10 of Toronto you might think I’m slightly obsessed with everything crossing related, but I can assure you, I’m not. However, I did notice something about crossings in Washington! What struck us all is the timer above the crossing, telling you how long you have to get across a road. They’re hilarious in how varied they are. You might have a huge road of four lanes to cross and the timer will give you a random short amount of time to cross like 17 seconds. However, it’ll allow you a sumptuous 50 seconds to cross a street that is about five big strides wide! It made us laugh every day of the trip!
  • The White House. The first time we visited – around 18 years ago – we felt a little bit underwhelmed by the president’s house. It felt quite small and we had no hope of getting to look round. I suppose we were a little bit naïve, but it was certainly no Buckingham Palace. This time around, we visited on a beautifully hot Spring day and it looked magnificent. The kids were suitably impressed too. Initially, it looked like they’d stopped tourists getting anywhere near but after a few minutes of being there a policeman came over, did rock, paper scissors with a little boy and when the boy won, he moved the barriers to one side. I’m guessing they do it all the time, but it was a lovely moment and it allowed us to get right up to the fence. I could have stared at it for hours!
  • DC is fit! One of the things that struck me as refreshing about Washington was the amount of people exercising. Runners, walkers, cyclists, exercise junkies seemed to be everywhere. The weather was fantastic when we were there in late April and the amount of people getting out was fantastic. I like to have a look out of the hotel window every morning, just to watch the world go by a bit and gather my thoughts. Every morning, there would be people cycling to work, people out running and others in sportswear, clearly walking to work with their work gear in a bag. Even late on at night you’d still see people out exercising. And whenever we went down to the National Mall there would be people running along it and up past the Capitol Building. As I was on an enforced break from running, it made me a little jealous As I’d have loved to join them. Mostly though, it made me smile.
  • Tatte Bakery and afternoon coffee. When we first visited Washington 17 or 18 years ago, we discovered Starbucks and spent far too much of our time sat outside various branches in drinking frappuccinos and eating cake in the sun. We vowed not to fall into the same trap this time around and while we definitely cut down on such frivolity, we still indulged! One of our favourite haunts was Tatte Bakery where we went for breakfast a couple of times as well as afternoon coffee. Not only did it do a great selection of cakes, muffins, pastries and snacks, but the coffee was great too. The staff were really friendly and accommodating, which helped when it came to whether we should revisit or not. Sometimes, even though there’s lots to see elsewhere, there’s nothing better to do in a big city than just sit outside sipping coffee and watch the world go by! DC and Tatte was brilliant for that!
  • Georgetown. Georgetown is a historic district of Washington that has buildings that date back as far as the 17th century. We didn’t find time to visit Georgetown when we first visited Dc some years ago. So we were determined to get there this time. And we were so glad we did. We started out by the Potomac river by the amazing House of Sweden which contains both the Swedish and Icelandic embassies and made our way further into Georgetown from there, crossing the now dried up canal, which I believe usually has water in and sometimes features boat trips. My wife then casually mentioned the fact that Georgetown is the sight of The Exorcist Steps, so we made our way there. After climbing them – and a bit of a rest – we spent the rest of the morning enjoying the sun, wandering the streets and shopping. It was so relaxed and I’d definitely recommend a visit to Georgetown. Oh, and when you climb the Exorcist steps, make sure you take a left in order to pay a visit to Bumblebee and Optimus Prime, two Transformers sculptures installed outside of a local house!
  • The bus. Bare with me on this one. I’m not normally a fan of buses. However, this one was a little different. The DC Circulator operates on three routes with a bus every ten minutes. So, it’s really helpful in getting across the city and really efficient. The best bit is that it only costs $1. Even better for us was that on our first three rides, we didn’t pay. It wasn’t for the want of trying; once, the machine wasn’t working and on the other two occasions we didn’t have the right change so the driver just let us on for free! Bonus!
  • Presidents. Or rather, their monuments. Time constraints meant that we didn’t manage to see some of the sights on our first visit, so this time we made sure to tour the monuments dedicated to some of the past presidents. If you’re a history fan, you’re sure to enjoy them. They’re all pretty inspiring and we even made a second visit to the Lincoln Memorial which was probably my favourite just because of the sheer scale. However, I’d recommend making time to see the Roosevelt Memorial which is quite poignant because of the references to the Great Depression and World War II. And while you’re there, try heading for the Martin Luther King memorial, which is nearby and again is awe inspiring.

  • It’s Washington DC, for crying out loud! In essence, there’s no real need to be too specific about visiting Washington DC. Just about everywhere you look there’s something important or eye-catching. My kids weren’t particularly excited about the prospect of visiting as they didn’t like the thought of hours of sightseeing. And then we went to The White House. I mean, it’s literally a big white house, but the place is completely iconic. Their faces lit up and their excitement was immediately tangible. Now, every time they see The White House, The Capitol Building, the Washington Monument or any of the shed loads of historic places on TV, they can say, ‘I’ve been there’.

A couple of things didn’t make the list, but are worth a mention. The first was going to a really posh restaurant – I’m not really the classy type, so it was quite the treat – and getting talking to our lovely waiter about Premier League football. He was a Tottenham fan, I had a right old laugh about that, but it’s amazing how we can be so different, so far apart and find common ground quite easily. The other thing was the Albert Einstein memorial, which is a huge bronze sculpture dedicated to the great man. His pose – let’s call it ‘relaxed’ – just made me smile and also told me that me and Albert have at least one thing in common too – we both love a nice sit down!

So, there you have it. My take on Washington DC. I’ve tried not to be too ‘touristy’, but that’s difficult when you’re a tourist. It’s just a great city though. Even if you were to stick to the National Mall and just visit the sights in and around there, you’d fill a good few days. But there are loads of ways of getting round, meaning you can visit all manner of sights and places around the city.

If you ever get the chance, just go!

Book Review: ‘Mad Blood Stirring’ by Simon Mayo

‘Mad Blood Stirring’ was interesting to me for lots of reasons. First of all, as a high school English teacher and long time Shakespeare fan, I recognised the title…although not as quickly as I should have! It took me a little while for that particular penny to drop and it would be the first of many! But, the title is of course a part of a line from Act 3 of Romeo and Juliet and serves as an unheeded warning to Mercutio. It’s a warning that translates well in Mayo’s novel too.

Also of interest to me were the events of the time. The novel is set in 1815, just after the Anglo American war of 1812, which I simply wasn’t aware of. I just assumed everything was done with between the two countries following American Independence. So, the idea of thousands of American prisoners incarcerated on Dartmoor piqued my interest a bit, simply because it was a chunk of history that I had no knowledge of whatsoever.

Mayo, of course is better known for his career as a radio DJ, but he’s been writing novels for a while. I first discovered his writing years ago with his YA novel Itch, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I never did get round to buying the other two in the trilogy though and my next forray into his work was over a decade later with Mad Blood Stirring. It’s safe to say that I waited too long!

Mad Blood Stirring is a many layered story, but it revolves around the comings and goings over a few months in Dartmouth Prison in 1815. The inmates are all American prisoners of war, despite the fact that the war has long since ended. There is still no treaty for their release however and trouble is brewing. As with Romeo and Juliet, there are factions with a grudge and it’s not just between the Americans and the British guards. Ill feeling and prejudice is rife within the prison population and trouble is never too far away.

Mayo has taken the facts of this time and woven together a brilliant narrative, focusing on the lives of two inmates in particular; Habs and Joe, who develop an unlikely friendship and eventually embark upon a perhaps even more unlikely romance. Habs is one of the black inmates, forced into a block of their own by white inmates and their prejudice, while Joe is white and new to Dartmouth and its strange set of rules.

But tension is simmering across all 7 blocks of Dartmouth prison, meaning that the ‘cast’ of the novel grows and grows. The men have been away from home for far too long, conditions inside the jail are abysmal and although talk suggests that peace is close, their freedom still seems a long way off. In actual fact, America has all but abandoned them. Elsewhere, Elizabeth, the Governor’s wife is in love with the prison doctor and the whole of Block 4 are on edge and exhausted after deciding to put on their latest production – Romeo and Juliet – for the other inmates. With the threat of violence around every corner and the whiff of potential freedom occasionally drifting through the air, there’s something happening to keep us on edge all over Dartmouth prison.

And so we have a tale where despite violence and death never being far away, love, comradeship and a yearning for culture somehow manage to blossom in among the choking poison of incarceration, racism and hatred.

Mayo has written an excellent novel, with many strands to the narrative. There is a great deal truth here too, but Mayo manages to somewhat brighten up the darkness of Dartmouth prison with his characters and their dynamics. The violence here is stark – and I guess that’s to be expected – but while the tension and treachery will keep you on edge throughout, characters like Habs, Joe and King Dick (yes, that’s really his name and he’s someone who I imagined as a cross between Brian Blessed and King Ezekiel from The Walking Dead) help to alleviate that ‘edge of your seat’ feeling just enough to make it an enjoyable read. There is interest beyond the obvious hellishness of thousands of men in a remote jail.

A slight criticism might be that there are just too many characters to keep up with at times, but then I guess with over 1000 men in just one block, we were always going to come across quite a large cast. I did sometimes struggle to keep sight of Habs and Joe though, as I read about another twist in the tale or another group of dangerous inmates.

Overall though, this is a cracking read and if you’re a fan of historical fiction you’re sure to enjoy ‘Mad Blood Stirring’. Even if – like me – the genre is not your usual thing, it’s still an enlightening tale and the fates of the characters are sure to keep you hooked. A gripping read packed full of grit and violence, but with a twist of romance and hope.

I give ‘Mad Blood Stirring’

Rating: 4 out of 5.

Poetry Blog: Horizons

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.

NUFC: We only went and did 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.

Grassroots Grumbles: I’m not sure how, but we made it to the end of the season!

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.

NUFC: Can we talk about the other night?

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!

Recovery Goals: My First 10k Race!

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?

Poetry Blog: ‘Adjustments’.

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!

NUFC: Come on, let’s stick together.

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.

Newcastle United: we’ll never be defeated!