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Book Review: ‘Above Head Height’ by James Brown.

Confession time. I had a little bit of a misspent youth. Nothing to panic about. Not committing crimes, not doing a great deal to disrupt others and not going out of my way to be obnoxious. My misspent youth consisted of doing the kinds of things that were important to me for as much as my time as was humanly possible, while neglecting the stuff that seemed boring, but on reflection might have actually done me some good.

My misspent youth largely revolved around football. Naturally, there were girls a bit later too, but I was no Casanova. Mind you, I spent endless hours playing football and I was no Maradona either! But wherever I could and whenever I could, I played football. ‘Above Head Height’ is a book for all of us who have obsessed and continue to obsess about football. ‘Above Head Height’ is what happens when your misspent youth continues through your entire adult life.

If you love football, then ‘Above Head Height’ is a must read. Even if you only have a casual interest in the game it’s still definitely worth a look. Brown – the former editor of the groundbreaking Loaded magazine – takes us through his own personal obsession with football, from days and nights playing any-number-a-side street football right up to his present day situation where he plays football with various social groups about 4 or 5 times a week. It’s an encyclopedic look at the game and why we play it, as well as why we get so obsessed and so for those of you like me and James, it becomes a very interesting read.

Brown’s experience of football as a kid will be familiar to a lot of us and as such, offers a huge slice of nostalgia for simpler football related times. Huge sided, barely organised games in the street, the park or wherever there was space and playing until you were either dragged in by a parent or it was just too dark to see anymore. Sometimes even that wasn’t enough to stop us!

‘Above Head Height’ takes us on Brown’s journey through football in its many guises. It’s a path well trodden for many of us. There are his experiences with school teams, playing with gifted players, playing at college and university, early adult five-a-side leagues and then onto time spent coaching his son’s team (something which a lot of us will have stumbled into inadvertently!).

This is more than just a book about football and a football obsessive. ‘Above Head Height’ starts with the funeral of a fellow player and Brown touching on the fact that, despite having spent years playing with this man, he really didn’t know him. He could pass comment on his playing style and pay tribute to his organisational skills – he was the bloke who organised the league – but what did he really know of the man he’d spent so much time with?

Ultimately, ‘Above Head Height’ is a book about friendship, camaraderie, obsession, health, fitness and the realisation that none of us are getting any younger. Football is just the orange or black and white checkered sun that it all orbits around. Of course, there will be family, careers, births and deaths, but sometimes it will feel like none of it is as serious as our feelings for the beautiful game!

If you remember the Wembley Trophy (or the penny floater if you’re from my neck of the woods), if you’ve ever spent far too long explaining the whys and wherefores of your latest ‘world-class’ goal, if the phrase ‘jumpers for goalposts’ still makes you smile and if you still dream that you might just get the call to play professionally, then ‘Above Head Height’ will be right up your street.

I give ‘Above Head Height’…

Gallowgate Cult Heroes Number 8: Steve Watson.

At 16 years, 7 months and 9 days old, Steve Watson was our youngest ever debutant. And although he made his debut at home, during a time when I went and watched us play wherever and whenever, I missed it. A big thank you to Happy Shopper cash and carry in Blaydon where I was working at the time, for denying me the afternoon off to go to the match. I missed a bit of NUFC history, but I bet the sweet aisle looked amazing by the end of my shift. So, swings and roundabouts, eh?

A week later Watto would make his full debut – I was there for that one -, starting the home game against Derby, getting Man of The Match and assisting in a 2-0 win. He’d go on to play 24 times in that first season while also playing for 3 different managers as United struggled against relegation to the old third division before saving themselves on the final day.

While primarily playing as a full back, Watson played all over the field for the Toon. He made regular appearances in midfield, but also played up front on occasion too. In fact, on one such occasion after coming on as a sub at Liverpool in a League Cup tie, he grabbed the only goal of the game and still one of the most memorable I’ve ever seen and cemented his place as a cult hero in the eyes of many mags.

As the tie moved towards full time Newcastle broke out of their own box and Peter Beardsley took the ball from midway inside his own half from a headed clearance. Watson spun in behind the two defenders and Beardsley played a through ball that sent him a little right of target, but still heading towards goal. Watson still had a lot to do and little support, but twisting and turning he made his way to the edge of the box before chipping David James for a fantastic solo effort. An inspired moment that possibly no one in the ground would have seen coming and a brilliant goal from a very talented footballer.

Steve had produced an even more outrageous piece of skill years before though. Even as a 16-year-old he had an eye for something different. And so it was that his particular take on throw ins arrived in 1991. Steve had a good throw on him anyway, but little did we know he’d been working on something special; the somersault throw in! He needed a bit of space around the pitch to do it, but on occasion he’d bring out a throw where he would run forwards towards the line before performing a kind of forward flip, ball still in hands, and release it as he got back to a standing position. I’m hard pushed to remember where I saw it first and I can’t recall any particular successes, but it was brave to say the least, from one so young. Entertaining, as well!

Steve played for Newcastle from 1990 until 1998, taking in life in the then 2nd division, but mostly playing in the Premier League. He was a valued member of Kevin Keegan’s Entertainers before playing under Kenny Dalglish too. But then, mere months after a substitute appearance in the 1998 cup final, he was on his way to Aston Villa in a £4m deal.

For me, Watson seemed to suffer because of his versatility. Too often he was kept around to fill in various positions, never quite nailing one down for himself. Injuries didn’t help Steve either, but in all he never quite fulfilled his early promise. He always struck me as a good athlete; quick, agile and strong. He was a good attacking full back and so presumably would have made an excellent wing back in today’s systems. But alas, despite 208 appearances across 8 years at the club it felt like he never really cemented a place in the first team, which given his obvious talent was a real disappointment.

Some Toon fans might be able to draw a parallel between Watson and Elliot Anderson. Both were local lads that excited the fans. Both were skillful and athletic and should have had a bright future at the club, but both ended up leaving to further their careers. In Watson’s case, as the club’s youngest ever debutant, it felt like a real waste. I remember being excited watching his full debut against Derby and it wasn’t long before I was wondering if this was the next player to follow on from the likes of Beardsley and Gazza. Sadly, although an undoubtedly excellent player, Steve didn’t quite hit those heights.

Steve went on to have a long career, playing for Villa, Everton, West Brom and Sheffield Wednesday before retiring in 2009 after a long term injury problem. After that he teamed up with Lee Clark as a coach at Clark’s Huddersfield. Subsequent coaching moves took him to various clubs such as York and Gateshead and Steve is now the manager of Darlington in the National League North.

Another cult hero and another local lad done good!

NUFC: The Magnificent 7s

For the whole of the time that I’ve supported Newcastle United I’ve had a bit of a fascination with wingers. From great to good to downright appalling, I’ve always been on their side, always willing them to do well whatever their ability or success rate. Even Wayne Fereday…

Part of this stems from the position I first took up when I started going to games. This was the late 70s and when I was around 6 0r 7 I was lucky enough to get a season ticket. I say lucky enough because of the story surrounding it, rather than being lucky to see a great side. The Newcastle United of this period in time was decidedly average; and that’s me being complimentary.

To cut a long story short, me and my dad got complimentary season tickets because I’d been very poorly and so it was that we took our seats high in the East Stand, where of course wingers came into sharp focus. And so I was sold on them from the start.

I also liked wingers because, like me, they were often slight in their build. Slim, skinny, whatever you want to refer to it as, that was the typical winger’s build. So, because I was built like a lot of them and also played as a winger, they became my favourites.

We’ve had some great wingers in our time. However, despite the likes of Ginola, Robert and Gordon, it’s the right sided players I’ve decided to write about on this occasion. The number 7s. That said, of the ten that I’ve picked out, not all were strictly wingers. They all wore the number 7 shirt with pride though.

I’ve picked out ten number 7s, but will write about five at a time. These are just my choices and I make no claim that they are the best number 7s ever to wear the shirt. However, all of them had something special. Some of them didn’t always play as wingers and also some of them didn’t always wear the number 7. But they were all a Magnificent 7 at some point. Here’s my first five.

Micky Burns. Micky Burns was my first ever favourite player. Yet, it was so long ago that I don’t remember a great deal about him. I can picture him though and what I do remember is that he was small and quick; a busy player who never seemed to stop working for the team. Burns played for us between 1975 and 1978 and scored 39 goals in 145 games. He was actually more of a forward than a winger, but was played – as much as I can remember – on the right hand side, scurrying up and down the flank, pressuring defenders and putting in crosses. A kind of Nobby Solano or Jacob Murphy type figure from the 70s, but without the flair or shithousery. Despite my sketchy memories of Burns, he remains one of my favourites to this day.

Paul Ferris. Paul Ferris was one of those players that should have been the next big thing. And for a moment, he was. But then injury struck and his career was over before it had even properly started. Ferris left Lisburn in Northern Ireland to sign for Newcastle when he was just 16 and became our youngest ever debutant in 1982. Being Irish, the inevitable comparisons to George Best weren’t far away and Ferris was indeed quick, tricky and skillful. His fleeting performances promised much before injury robbed him of a top class career. Ferris only made 14 appearances for us, scoring just the one goal, but for Mags of a certain vintage he’ll always be one who promised so, so much. Paul actually went on to have a successful career as a barrister, as well as working as a physio in our medical department during Kevin Keegan’s tenure and as part of Alan Shearer’s backroom staff. In amongst all of that he’s written books too, including his brilliant biography The Boy on The Shed which I reviewed on the link below.

https://middleagefanclub.wordpress.com/2020/10/19/book-review-the-boy-on-the-shed-by-paul-ferris/

Kevin Keegan. No look at our number 7s would be complete without at least a mention of Kevin Keegan. The then England captain and twice European Footballer of the Year signed for us seemingly out of nowhere in August 1982. I remember it vividly. I was on a beach in Spain on a family holiday and found out the news – in those pre internet days – via the back page of another nearby sun worshipper’s tabloid! It’s safe to say that Wor Kev would go on to transform the club. Keegan was relentless as a player and although he wasn’t a winger, he was a number 7. Despite his advancing years he still had a bit of pace and skill and his know-how would be invaluable in getting us out of Division 2 in 1984. Superstar or not, his work rate was always high and he never shirked a challenge and while Keegan wasn’t a scorer of great goals he was a clinical finisher who made excellent runs and had a happy knack of being in the right place at the right time. King Kev made just 85 appearances in black and white, scoring 49 goals in that time, but his time as a player was transformative. Not only did he give supporters hope, he showed people just what the club could become as well as being a huge influence on future superstars like Chris Waddle and Peter Beardsley. From my own point of view, I don’t think I’ll ever forget Keegan as both a player and a manager. Surely a statue is long overdue?

Kieron Dyer. Dyer was another player who promised much but sadly, delivered on a scattergun basis. Signed from Ipswich by Ruud Gullit in 1999, Kieron was an exciting addition. When he was on form he could be unplayable, but injury and controversy off the field often dogged his career on Tyneside. Personally, I loved watching him play. Dyer had a fantastic turn of pace which was a joy to witness in the same side as the even quicker Craig Bellamy. He was a clever player with an eye for a pass as well as a gift for making runs to get on to through balls. One of my favourite Dyer goals was the one he scored to clinch the win at Everton away in 2000. Alive to a flick on just in his own half he clipped the ball past a defender then surged through towards goal, dinked it over another defender making a last gasp challenge and then just as the keeper came out, Dyer placed a side-footed lob straight over him and into the net. The goal had everything; power, pace, guile, precision and he raced over half the length of the pitch in what felt like about 3 seconds! Being in the away end at Leeds in 2003 as he slammed a close range half volley into the net at the Kop end was a treat too. The lob sums Dyer up, for me though. He just had that cuteness, that eye for something different. His game wasn’t about power; just pace and skill. And then there was the bravery. Dyer was never afraid of getting clattered and while he didn’t necessarily fly into tackles, he never shirked a challenge if it meant moving the ball on for a team mate and then taking a late hit. I think my everlasting memories of Dyer will be firstly his two assists in the Champions League game away at Feyenoord, but probably more famously getting sent off for having a fight with team mate Lee Bowyer on the pitch in the home game v Villa in 2005. I missed the entire incident as my eyes just followed the ball, but it was strange to see the two of them sent off. We’ve all seen the footage since and of course that of Steven Taylor getting sent off in the same game…as a sniper took him out, apparently. If you know, you know.

Len White. Make no mistake about it, Len White is one of the greatest players to ever wear the black and white stripes. A Yorkshireman who was with United from 1953 to 1962, playing 269 times and scoring an amazing 153 goals. He is our third top scorer of all time and yet rarely receives the acclaim that it would seem he deserves. It seems we can list lots of our great goal scorers and not give Len a mention. There’s no statue, little reference around the ground and no spot in the Hall of Fame either, as yet. I never saw White play and have had to rely on my father’s sketchy testimony and a bit of research in order to form an opinion, but by all accounts…what a player. White started as a winger, but would move inside on occasion and notably once Jackie Milburn had retired, to become our striker. I’m told – by my dad – that despite his small frame, White was as brave as a lion as well as being quick, skillful and an expert dribbler. And it doesn’t take a genius to work out that he was a cracking finisher too! With a record of more than a goal every other game, the evidence speaks for itself! White can also lay claim to being one of the last winners of a domestic trophy for Newcastle, winning the FA Cup in 1955 and having a goal disallowed in the final.

So there we have it. My first instalment of our Magnificent 7s with another to come soon. Remember though, these are only my picks and are based around my own opinions and in some cases, some second hand information. That said, who would you add to our Magnificent 7s?

Euro 2024: Sometimes the bright side feels a bit harder to find!

I’d set out to try and stick to the positives when writing about these Euros. In my experience, when watching your country play at a major tournament – in any sport – the negatives are never far away and it can be hard to stay positive. I mean, I left work early last night in order to rush home and get a few things done before settling down to watch what I’d hoped would be a decent England performance. Look how that ended.

Anyway, here are my 5 positives from England’s latest effort…

Kieran Trippier won his 50th cap. I think Tripps has been the focus of far too much negative attention so far in these Euros. The notion that Phil Foden’s poor form is down to Trippier filling in as a right footed left back seems ridiculous, but it just keeps getting mentioned. Perhaps a look at Phil Foden or the manager’s tactics might reveal the truth on that particular matter? Anyway, Tripps earned his 50th cap and for me, has looked pretty solid while defending at this tournament so far…and I’m aware that I’ve probably just cursed him in saying that!

Jordan Pickford. The second positive and I’m already stretching things a bit. Hear me out though. Pickford is receiving a lot of back passes so far and although people say he’s good with his feet, I’d look more at the fact that he’s liable to drop a bollock at any moment without warning. So there’s my positive. Despite seeing a lot of the ball to his feet, so far there have been no attempted hospital balls to Declan Rice or Cruyff turns in his own six yard box. Fingers crossed it stays that way!

We’re almost out of the group! It looks to be a 99.9% certainty that we get out of the group from this point. Despite the disappointment of the performance and the result, we’re still top of the group. Knock out football awaits as long as we don’t do anything silly. What awaits when we enter knockout football might not be too positive, but we’ll come to that another time!

Anthony Gordon. He hasn’t played a single minute yet, despite half of the country crying out for it. However, I was partly pleased that he never got onto that terrible pitch on Thursday night because that pitch combined with being a Newcastle player added up to a surefire knee ligament injury as far as I could see! Gordon with both knees still intact? I’ll take that as a positive.

Harry Kane scored. So, he seems to be playing at half his capacity, might be injured, is dropping far too deep and his wayward pass from a position that he didn’t need to be in cost us a goal, but he scored. As any England fan knows, Kane scoring once often leads to Kane scoring more. Let’s hope he finds his groove soon!

So, there you have it. Five positives…sort of. What do you expect when we’re scraping the bottom of the barrel? Hopefully the next game makes this a bit easier to write!

Another step in the right direction: The Pontefract 10k 2024

Sometimes life’s just not fair. When I first looked at the projected weather forecast, 5 days prior to this race, it told me that it would be relatively cool and that there might even be a chance of light rain. So, in many ways ideal conditions for running. But as the day got closer the forecast changed and Sunday brought temperatures in the 20s and no cloud cover. Just what I would have wanted to avoid!

A year ago, the Pontefract 10k was my first race after having surgery to have a pacemaker fitted. Obviously, it brought its own challenges and in the end I was happy to finish in just under an hour. This year, with a lot more runs under my belt – albeit often taking two steps forward to then take two or three back – I was hopeful of a much better time. And then the hot weather decided to put in an appearance.

Last year’s race was meant to be the final one ever, but then late last year someone told me that Pontefract was on again and following a quick online search I found myself entering once more. I’ve ran this race for the last four years now and absolutely love it. There’s always a friendly, welcoming atmosphere, it’s well organised and despite the undulations of the course (so many hills!), it’s just a really enjoyable run.

I do feel a little bit guilty about doing runs like this. In the grand scheme of things it’s not that long ago that I was collapsing in front of my family and scaring the life out of them, so insisting on running these races might be a bit much. However, they in turn insist on coming with me and I know they’ll spend the time between seeing me start and seeing me finish worrying, but at least they can hopefully see that I’m getting stronger and stronger. However we all feel, I’m very grateful for their love and support and it’s always a boost when I see them near the end. Or hear them before I see them as is often the case!

We arrived early this year as we had to pick up my race number, but despite my fears of an enormous queue, it only took a minute or so to sort out. So we found a sunny spot and stood chatting in the sun for a while, with me doing the occasional bit of half-hearted stretching. All the while, at the back of my mind was the thought of exactly how hot it was going to be out on the run, meaning that my usual pre-race nerves were ramped right up.

Before I knew it though, we were shuffling forward and a local DJ was counting us down. And then, we were off! I gave a quick last wave to my family and began to run and gather my thoughts.

Pontefract starts with a long, long hill and every year I have to concentrate hard to pace myself as otherwise I go too fast and then suffer for it in the middle of the race. Today though, I’m still shaking off a bit of a cold and so as a consequence I’m running fairly steadily and hoping that it’ll pay off towards the end when I can really up my pace. Fingers crossed! Even this early though, my mouth was beyond dry, so while I’d half-heartedly told myself that I could run about 51 minutes, the heat was going to make that a tough ask.

Pontefract is a lovely run. It’s largely rural, so for most of the race you’re in the middle of the countryside and I used that a bit today in order to try and forget about the heat. The one problem with this rural landscape is that the chances to run in the shade are few and far between and so while I was slowly baking I tried to take my mind off things by taking in the views. I was kidding myself if I thought it was really going to work though and it wasn’t overly long before the heat was beginning to take its toll.

However, by around the halfway point I had ran for 25 minutes, meaning that a reasonably quick run was in sight. But oh, those pesky hills! There are a number of steep climbs on the way back towards the finish and so, combined with the heat, the second half of the race began to feel quite brutal quite quickly.

I kept checking my watch for both speed and distance covered and stayed really focused, even though I was slowing down with every climb. And then as we reached a hydration point I completely lost focus and slowed right down while trying to grab a bottle of water and then take a few big gulps without throwing the whole thing down myself. It was only when I threw the bottle to one side that I realised that I was jogging and that I should have tipped the remaining water over my head!

As we got close to the finish two things happened – firstly, I could feel a numbness in my wrist and left hand as my hands swelled up (again) in the heat. Off putting to say the least! Secondly though, I managed to find a last bit of energy in order to speed up significantly for the last mile.

As I turned into the final straight before the finish line I just decided to sprint. I knew that my time wasn’t going to be exactly what I’d been aiming for, but I was still well inside the 55 minutes that I’d told my son to expect for me. My legs were like jelly and I was far too hot, but I managed to pass a couple of people before just about staggering over the line!

It’s always a weird feeling finishing a race. I got a little bit emotional after this one last year as it had been the first race since my pacemaker and I was genuinely a little scared about doing it. At other times I’ll feel fairly fresh and be able to wander through the finish enclosure smiling and looking halfway alive still. Today, I revert to what is more or less type for me; shattered. I know I must look an old vagrant and like I might just fall over, but I don’t much care. I’ve done it and I’ve got a huge grin on my face.

So now it’s back to training for me. I’ll have a look at whether there are any other races to enter in the coming months, but in the meantime life outside of work and family will just be about running and recovering. I’m still fully aware that I’ve had a major scare and with the reasoning being that the fitter I am, the stronger I am, it’s just about more of the same.

I’m still here, I’m still able to run and I remind myself of this kind of thing every day! So however shattered I might feel after something like this, it’s still something to smile about.

NUFC: Ten Things to Love About Bruno.

As we approach the end of another Premier League season rumours seem to be intesifying about Bruno Guimaraes. Across every type of media there seems to be almost a desperate push for the move. Whether it be Manchester City or Arsenal, PSG or Real Madrid, someone somewhere seems to think that Bruno is better off elsewhere.

We could go on and on about why, but that’s not the point of this piece. Southern based press, conspiracy theories and all that can wait. People seem to think that Bruno needs to leave but I’m guessing the vast majority of Newcastle fans would disagree.

Bruno Guimaraes joined Newcastle in January of 2022 from Lyon at a cost believed to be in the region of £36 million. He wasn’t quite an instant hit as Eddie Howe held him back in order to properly acclimatise to the rigours of the Premier League. Instead, he would come on as a sub in a number of games before finally making his full debut away at Southampton. And what a debut! It was in this game that Bruno scored his first Toon goal – an outrageous back heeled volley from a Dan Burn header across goal, right in front of the travelling fans. A star was born!

It’s fair to say that the love affair started that evening and has moved on at pace ever since. Bruno fell for us and we returned his feelings ten fold. In fact, you could say that we love Bruno almost as much as he loves Joelinton. The bastard (more of that later, if you didn’t understand).

For me, Bruno is easily one of the best central midfielders I’ve seen in over 40 years of supporting Newcastle. I can look back on a lot, but without thinking too deeply would struggle to come up with many to rival Guimaraes. Gazza, Robert Lee, Gary Speed and Yohan Cabaye spring straight to mind, but after that I’m reaching a bit. I mean, when you were raised on a diet of players like Kevin Dillon, John Trewick, Pat Heard and Amdy Faye, midfielders begin to stand out for all the wrong reasons.

But comparisons are not what this is about. Rather than ramble and confirm what we all already know (he’s dead good at football), I thought I’d give you ten reasons why I (and probably a lot of us) love Bruno.

He just strikes me as a cracking lad. Bruno and family just make for a lovely story. His kids are Geordies and his wife seems very happy with the whole set up. Bruno seems to have time for everyone; a ready smile and a willingness to immerse himself in the city and the region.
He’s a current Brazilian international. Ever since I watched the Brazil team in the 1982 World Cup and heard about their 1970 side, I’ve been a little bit in love with their footballers. Apart from Fumaca, of course. He was shite. But the fact that Bruno gets in that side is a hell of a yardstick of his quality and I like that being part of Newcastle United.
His kids are Geordies and Bruno seems to be very proud of that fact and of just being able to be a part of our culture. For a lad to come halfway around the world and be obviously so in tune with this kind of pride is just wonderful. Imagine Mbappe, Ronaldo or many other so called superstars being the same. You can’t, can you?
His nickname/pet name for Joelinton just seems to be ‘bastard’. Much like Mirandinha being taught swearing by Gazza back in the 80s, someone has clearly got to Bruno! And Bruno seems to love it!
His celebrations. For a lot of us fans, football is about passion and joy. Bruno echoes that as a player. Whether he’s climbing on to advertising hoardings, doing little dances, kissing the badge, telling various people he loves them or just hoisting up a corner flag, Bruno seems to have something for every occasion. And he clearly revels in expressing that joy. So much so, in fact that there are occasion where he scores and gives us about 5 different layers of celebration! Remember the knee slide at Southampton away, remember the stripping off against Leicester at home, remember the flag waving at home to Sheffield Utd! There’s lots to love.
His laugh. If you’ve watched him on any of the club’s videos you’ll have heard that high pitched laugh. It always raises a smile and is just another sign of Bruno being a bloke who just loves life.
He’s ridiculously uncoordinated, yet still a brilliant footballer. I’ve seen Bruno play darts and I’m sure I’ve watched a video of him riding a bike or a scooter or a skateboard. He was shocking at all of it! It’s one of those little quirks that we can’t fail to like. Pu a ball at his feet though…different story.
His dad. Never before have I shown such an interest in Dick. The man behind the number 39 has become a part of the whole story of these last two and a bit years. Whether he’s accompanying his son and his family while they get interviewed or joining in with the singing in the pub or on the concourse at an away game, the man has become an unlikely star. None of us would have realised that Bruno’s arrival would lead to us loving Dick too…
His passing. I’m guessing we’re all fans of the outside of the boot pass that Bruno has, especially when it comes off. There was a notable one against Luton at home this year that led to Kieran Trippier’s goal. Bruno also does a nice line in ‘no look’ passes, with a one in to Miggy against Wolves a particular peach. The other one that springs to mind is a pass that I don’t have a name for, possibly because I don’t play FIFA. However, it’s a pass that almost looks like he’s scuffed it, almost a scoop. He seems to pretty much miss hit the ball, like he’s trying to dig it out of the turf and it’s quite a common pass that he makes. Teenagers might tell me it’s a knuckle ball, but I don’t know. Anyway, it’s a passing style that I like in amongst a range that I’m a big admirer of.
VAMOOOOOOOS! None of us are surely going to tire of that any time soon.

For me, it’s essential that we keep Bruno. For all the talk of that £100m clause, he’s worth much more to the club and the team. The goals, the showmanship, the clinical passes, even the run of games he went on this season to avoid that crucial yellow card are all illustrative of just how integral Bruno Guimaraes has become at Newcastle United.

Talk of him leaving feels ridiculous. Release clause or not, there shouldn’t be a valid reason to sell Wor Bruno!

Gallowgate Cult Heroes: number 7, Hatem Ben Arfa

Every once in a while, whoever you might support, a player arrives at your club and changes everything. The rules are thrown out of the window, the script torn up and the unpredictable becomes a part of your weekly diet. These players are just…different. Mavericks, renegades, geniuses, ballers, call them what you want, we’ve all had at least a couple over the years.

Hatem Ben Arfa was very much a maverick and for a short time he changed what we thought was possible from a player wearing the black and white stripes and gave everyone who watched him a chance to rub their eyes and wonder if what they’d just witnessed had really happened. His time lacked consistency and even a decent ending, but he left us with a ton of amazing memories.

Ben Arfa was signed in August 2010, from Marseille, initially on loan. It became evident quite quickly that we’d signed someone pretty special. There were flashes of inspirational skill, even though it took the player a while to find his feet. But find his feet he did when we played Everton away in the September of that season. As the half was coming to an uneventful close he took a pass to feet from Wayne Routledge. He then ignored the winger’s overlapping run, preferring – shock horror – to keep hold of the ball. At first he seemed unsure of what to do, but then, having turned this way and that, he faced up his marker, swerved to the left and hit an unstoppable shot from about 25 yards into the far corner of the net. A star was born.

Sadly, less than a month later, Ben Arfa’s season was over when he was the victim of a shocking tackle from Nigel de Jong in our game away at Man City. A broken tibia and fibia would mean that we wouldn’t see Hatem in a black and white shirt for another year.

Perhaps understandably after such a massive injury. Ben Arfa’s second season started rather quietly and he failed to really dominate games at first. However, he would really make his mark in January of 2012.

For those in attendance, Ben Arfa’s goal against Blackburn in the FA Cup may well go down as one of the greatest goals we’ll have witnessed live. As he received the ball in midfield there were three defenders in close attendance. But still, he turned and ran at them. It felt like fraction of a second before he was in the box at the Gallowgate end and despite what felt like half of Rover’s defence surrounding him, Ben Arfa continued to wriggle through. Finally, with opposition defenders pretty much surrounding him, he managed to drag the ball back onto his left foot and hammer it high into the net from the edge of the six yard box.

I’d seen plenty of players who could dribble over the years, but Ben Arfa felt different. Yes, he was inconsistent, but at times it felt like he had the ball on a string. The goal against Blackburn was very much one of these occasions.

Ben Arfa briefly lit up the Mike Ashley years. It felt like an un-Ashley type signing when we got him. He came with a reputation as a little bit of a trouble maker and was said to be on strike when we took him from Marseille. Subsequent years and multiple clubs would prove this to be the case. Why else would Marseille be letting him go out on loan? And yet, perhaps with re-sale pound signs in his eyes, Ashley sanctioned the signing and Hatem became an integral part of the team that also contained Coloccini, Cabaye, Tiote, Gutierrez, Cisse and Ba and would go on to finish 5th in the Premier League.

But, having fallen out with teammates and management left, right and centre at both Lyon and Marseille the writing was surely on the wall from the moment he signed.

Hatem was one of those players who created a buzz. Whenever he got the ball there was an expectancy that something was about to happen. It became apparent that Hatem himself didn’t always know what that something was, but he was tremendously exciting and frustrating in equal measure. Often, when he should have passed he went off on some fruitless solo endeavour, but then there were times when, just as it looked like he’d lost possession, he’d somehow create a yard of space and do something breathtakingly brilliant.

For me, he had a little bit of a Jack Grealish quality, in that he was just as likely to slow play down and turn back with the ball than he was to produce a moment of magic. But in his time at the Toon, we lived for that magic!

Ben Arfa though, will always be remembered for one moment; that goal against Bolton. He took the ball from Yohan Cabaye fairly deep in his own half, but what came next took the breath away. An outrageous flick and turn took him past his marker who was left flailing around on the turf. Then it was all about power. Ben Arfa evaded a desperate tackle midway into opposition territory, somehow managing to keep his feet as his ankles were clipped. Then he just ran for goal, running through two half hearted challenges on the edge of the box before poking the ball past the onrushing keeper with the outside of his foot.

The initial turn was balletic, the drive with the ball all about brute power and speed and the finish almost an instinctive flick. If you watch it on YouTube, there’s an angle where he’s running at the camera and when he’s challenged in their half he cries out, as if he’s been hurt and might take a tumble. But it’s in the blink of an eye and rather than go over, before you know it, the ball’s in the Bolton net and the Gallowgate are up in celebration. From receiving the ball to it hitting the net took around 8 seconds and it’s something that won’t be forgotten for a long time for those that were there. What a goal. What a moment. Ben Arfa at his thrilling best.

Sadly, it wasn’t to last. Almost inevitably Hatem would clash with those in charge. Injuries would disrupt the rest of the 2011/2012 season, as well as a lot of the following year. Rumour has it that, like at other clubs, Ben Arfa fell out with his fellow players, with club captain Fabricio Collocini particularly irked by his behaviour. It’s said that Colo even went to the manager and asked for Ben Arfa to be benched for fear of a player rebellion. Once again, the Ben Arfa attitude had led to him finding himself out of favour and on the move.

There were fan protests about Ben Arfa’s absence from the squad – a Che Guevara style banner with Hatem’s face and the word Hope was regularly seen at St. James’ – and his plight become a bit of a focal point for general fan unrest at the Ashley regime and the running of the team by Pardew. He even appeared sitting with the fans for the home game against Cardiff that year. When Ben Arfa was finally loaned to Hull City, his career with the Toon was over. We would never truly see the man at the peak of his powers.

Ben Arfa’s time at Hull was short lived – amazingly he failed to find inspiration under Steve Bruce – and eventually Newcastle terminated his contract, leaving him as a free agent. His story at Newcastle was sadly over. But his story as a footballer would have much more to come with eventful spells at Nice, PSG, Rennes, Valladolid, Bordeaux and Lille following as well as an unexpected recall to the France squad. But at almost every turn, there was controversy and conflict and at present he remains a free agent.

Overall Ben Arfa made 86 appearances for Newcastle scoring 14 goals, and he never really fulfilled his potential. Still though, there can’t be many of us who wouldn’t have a goal from Hatem in their Top 10 Toon goals of all time.

As you’d expect though, there is one final twist in the Ben Arfa tale. What is he doing now? Not content with waiting things out and looking at finding another club, Hatem was last heard of as embarking on a career as a professional padel tennis player and was reported to be ranked in the top 1500 players in the world!

Never a dull moment, eh?

Gallowgate Cult Heroes: Number 6 Mirandinha

Have you ever bought something based more on the way it looks on a shelf than for it’s actual quality? Ever rushed in and made an impulse buy without really thinking it through? I definitely have. For some reason with me it’s hats that bring out the impulse buyer, despite my little head. Newcastle United’s weakness in the past hasn’t quite been so specific; just footballers in general.

It’s fair to say that Newcastle United have never been afraid to gamble. We’ve always been fans of causing a bit of a stir. From spoiling Sir Stanley Matthews’ day in Cup Finals, signing Chilean brothers at a time when most Geordies couldn’t have found Chile on a map to…well you could bring it up almost to the present day when you think about it. I mean, after a couple of years of being here no one suspected what we were about to unearth in Joelinton did they?

One such gamble was the 1987 signing of Brazilian international, Mirandinha or to give him his full name, Francisco Ernani Lima da Silva. Signed from Palmeiras for the princely sum of £575,000, Mira had just scored at Wembley for Brazil in a Rouse Cup game against England. So of course, we jumped in two footed to sign the first Brazilian to play in English football as a replacement for Peter Beardsley, who just left to head to Liverpool. Clearly due diligence wasn’t so much of an everyday phrase back then.

Fifteen-year-old me was thrilled through. My logic was that he was Brazilian and so he couldn’t possibly be anything but class. I mean, I’d watched the 1982 World Cup and been gutted when that amazing Brazil team had got knocked out and I’d also seen plenty of footage of that Brazil ’70 side. My young brain imagined that all Brazilian footballers would measure up the same, like there was just something in the water in those parts!

Remember, this was a long time before Fumaca would grace our club, so my thinking wasn’t quite as stupid as it sounds. I mean, Mira was quick and I’d just watched him score at Wembley as well, so what could possibly go wrong?

To be fair to Mirandinha, things didn’t really go immediately wrong. After an introduction to St. James’ Park before a home game versus Nottingham Forest where he decided to wear a white suit, Mira made his debut a few days later at Norwich. Watching the highlights on the Tyne Tees news the following evening, I was impressed. Mainly, this was based around his ability to run really quickly and shoot from around half a mile from goal, but to teenage Graham, this was exciting stuff. Especially when you think I’d spent the few years before this watching the likes of George Reilly, Tony Cunningham and Billy Whitehurst stomp across the turf at St. James’.

It didn’t take long for Mira to gain his own song. Older readers will remember it fondly…perhaps more fondly than you’ll remember the player, in fact. “We’ve got Mirandinha, he’s not from Argentina, he’s from Brazil, he’s f***in’ brill”. Clearly, this one had more the influence of Black Lace than The Smiths, but it was mildly funny and soon caught on. The other chant of just repeating ‘Dinha, Dinha, Dinha’ was stodgy by comparison.

Mira scored his first goals in a 2-2 draw at Old Trafford in the September. The first was a free kick from just outside the box, while the second was a header at the far post from a corner. He quickly struck up a good relationship with the young Paul Gasgoigne with Gazza often supplying the passes for Mira’s runs and Mira ignoring Gazza in favour of having yet another shot when the situation was ever reversed. The same would be said for Mira’s strike partner Paul Goddard who would often be left screaming at the Brazilian in frustration when he’d shot rather than passed to our far better placed number 9.

The unlikely friendship with Gazza also led to some quite strange English lessons and on more than one occasion Mira would answer innocent questions with a tirade of swearing, much to the young Geordie’s amusement.

In his first season Mirandinha was a relative success, even if he was easily the most greedy player I’d seen outside of school. He reminded me of the kid who brought the ball to school and would insist on playing by his rules as a result. Still, he managed to score 13 goals in 32 appearances in that first season and all seemed well. But this is Newcastle United remember…

We sold Gazza before the 88/89 season and frankly, the team fell apart. Mirandinha would only score 11 goals in a fractious season and was sold back to Palmeiras at the end of it, with the club finishing bottom of the league and being relegated back to the old Division 2. He was a more surly, unsettled and moody presence during that second season, making less and less contribution as the season went on.

In fact, my most stand out memory of Mirandinha came after one particular game, rather than during. It was an FA Cup 5th round tie against Wimbledon and I remember suffering with the usual bout of mindless optimism as I got to the ground. We’ve all been there as Toon fans. But this was our year, as far as I was concerned.

We got beat 3-1 and stunk the place out. Now those two teams didn’t like each other and so at full time, frustration got the better of Mira, who first refused to shake Andy Thorn’s hand and then – incredibly and before my very eyes – ran up behind the Don’s keeper, Dave Beasant and launched a flying kick at his arse before sprinting down to hide behind Peter Jackson who was innocently heading towards the temporary changing rooms at the back of the Leazes. To this day I still can’t quite believe what I witnessed, and it remains my abiding memory Mirandinha’s short time at Newcastle and one of my most vivid memories of any game as a Newcastle fan after 40 odd years of support.

You could argue that Mirandinha was just a case of the right club at the wrong time. He arrived at the back end of the McKeag years, not long before Sir John Hall bought the club and brought Kevin Keegan back. Maybe Keegan could have got a better tune out of our first Brazilian.

Undoubtedly, Mira possessed the raw ingredients to be a success and his record of 24 goals in 71 appearances is hardly bad. Remember these were very different times for English football and there were literally no other Brazilians or even Portuguese speakers in the squad. In fact if I remember rightly, when he signed he was the only foreign player on the books. The change of culture alone would have been incredibly difficult to deal with, let alone the difference weather!

As it was though, Mirandinha was an experiment that didn’t quite work and most likely an attempt by the board to bring in a cheap replacement for Beardsley, who had gone to Liverpool for three times as much as Mira cost. Mira was lightening quick, strong and very direct; equal measures edge of the seat excitement and tearing your hair out in frustration. But for a while he was the darling of St. James’ Park. Definitely a bit of a cult hero.

Footnote: While researching this I came across Mirandinha’s managerial record and was so astounded by what I found that I thought I had to share. Having played for 12 clubs, including Palmeiras on 3 separate occasions he would then go on to manage a total of 20 clubs in both his native Brazil but also Saudi Arabia, Malaysia and Sudan. Staggering. From learning English from Gazza to managing a club in the Sudanese Premier League; amazing when you think about it!

Gallowgate Cult Heroes: Number 5 Barry Venison

It’s still quite rare for a player to cross the divide between black and white and red and white. In my lifetime there haven’t been that many and even if we go right back in time, a player who played for both is usually rare enough to grab a bit of attention. However, it’s even more rare for one of these moves to be deemed a success. Just ask Lee Clark or Michael Chopra!

Arguably one of the biggest successes in playing for both Newcastle and Sunderland would be Barry Venison who was adored during his time at both clubs.

Venison arrived at Newcastle from Liverpool in a £295,000 deal. We were in the second tier of English football, having just escaped relegation to Division 3 at the end of the previous season under Kevin Keegan. King Kev was now assembling a squad for a promotion challenge, with the Premiership (now the Premier League) only a year old. Venners would become a key component in that Championship winning season.

Barry had, of course, started his career at Sunderland in 1981. He would become their captain at just age 20, eventually playing a total of 205 times and becoming the youngest player to captain a side at Wembley when our lovely neighbours lost the 1985 Milk Cup. He would leave for the all conquering Liverpool side of the 80s in 1986 in a £200,000 deal and stay there for 6 years before he joined us.

Venison brought much needed big game experience and guile to a squad that, while it was being overhauled, still contained many of the squad from the previous almost disastrous campaign. The likes of Lee Clark, Robbie Elliot and Steve Howey would learn a lot from Venners and his influence would be felt by incoming future superstars like Rob Lee and Andy Cole too. So while Brian Kilcline would start the season as captain, Venison was very much the power behind the throne and would eventually take the captaincy when Killer was out of the side. A latter day Kieran Trippier, if you will. Just with bigger hair.

Undoubtedly, part of Venison’s appeal was his sense of ‘style’. He was no ordinary everyday footballer with his long, flowing blonde locks and unique fashion sense. He was the closest thing we’d get to Miami Vice on Tyneside and some of his choices were legendary. He embraced bleached bootcut jeans and at times even paired them with cowboy boots, while on his wedding day he wore a pink suit, looking every inch the Don Johnson lookalike and outshining his bride at the same time!

A tough tackling, hard running overlapping right back he quickly became a firm favourite with our fans. And although he would only ever score one goal for the club, he was always at the front of the queue when celebrating other people’s goals. Barry simply loved the celebrations and could regularly be found piling in on top of those shaking their fists at the crowd!

After winning the Division One championship, Venners continued as a regular at right back in the team that brought European football back to St. James’ Park for the ’94/95 season. However, that would be the season where his partying pushed one too many of Keegan’s buttons and he was stripped of the captaincy. He would also lose his spot in the team at right back after Marc Hottiger was brought in.

However, Venison was then reborn, converted to a holding midfielder by Keegan. He took to the position like a duck to water as well and was called up by England in the same season.

Barry Venison was what we might call a character. Someone who threw himself into life as a footballer and who – in terms of the modern day footballer – it could be argued, very much made the most of his slightly limited ability. He would move on to Galatasaray at the end of the ’94/’95 season but would live long in the memory of many a Mag. A cross between some kind of catalogue model and a slightly effeminate Viking, Barry more than successfully crossed the divide and his red and white background was never held against him.

NUFC – We can’t do right for doing wrong?

Newcastle United fans, eh? What are we like? With our bloody flags, our songs and our attempts to support our team and help them to win football matches. But that’s not all. What about the club and the team? Buying success, celebrating goals and wins and inventing ‘shithousery’ being the tip of the iceberg. Who do we think we are, eh?

Having supported Newcastle United for over 40 years, I can’t say that we’ve always been popular. The Keegan years aside when we were everyone’s second team, apparently, someone’s always had a problem with Newcastle United. Oddly enough, that problem has grown exponentially over the last two years…I can’t think why.

Do I care what fans of other clubs think? No, of course not. I’m very much with Eddie Howe on this one; we’re not here to be popular, we’re here to compete.

That said, I do find the amount of complaints about us and the amount of moaning from other fans, really, really funny. So, I thought I’d go through a few things that spring to mind, especially as the attention on us seems to have ramped up significantly this season.

Eddie Howe is the master protagonist in all of this. As soon as he joined the club in November 2021, he set about winding up fans of other clubs. And how did he do it? The Lap of Appreciation. Win, lose or draw, our team and staff would stay on the pitch and walk round clapping. Clapping! I mean, straight away you can see how that would irk fans of other clubs. Who does he think he is getting 30 odd men and women to amble round a load of grass clapping at folk? God forbid, if I supported anyone else I’d be understandably livid at all that clapping!

The main problem here, according to fans of other clubs is that we haven’t won a trophy. So, of course we’re not allowed to celebrate anything, ever. In fact it’s possible that within a few months the Premier League will ask clubs to vote on whether clubs in black and white stripes can celebrate goals. Maybe, we can even expect a subsection about getting excited or something like that. That’s before we even get onto the crowd roaring at a tackle being made or a player enjoying the same, which has a seismic influence on the mood of other fans. More evidence of what a small club we are, apparently…

The point in all of this – and I truly hope we all got the sarcasm – is that it’s absolutely ridiculous and more than just a little bit pathetic. Two years of whingeing, moaning, bleating on and the crying of gallons of salty tears and all because what was once dubbed ‘a wee club in the north’ are challenging the status quo again. But the ridiculousness doesn’t stop there.

Probably most famously, Eddie then brought in the celebration photo. That’s right, a photo of people celebrating! So, when we win a match the whole squad, staff and even injured players have a photo in the dressing room. Personally, I love it. It’s a brilliant illustration of the spirit and the togetherness in the squad and coming after watching teams with fractured dressing rooms and very little spirit for years and years, it’s a welcome addition to the way we do things.

Other fans loathe that photo, which is hilarious! When we’ve won, social media is just a wonderful illustration of how much we’ve upset what some fans see as being the natural order of things. And of course, it was even funnier when Jason Tindall organised the squad and staff into formation in front of the away fans at the end of our derby win at the Stadium of Shite recently. The irony of being told that we showed a lack of respect is amazing, given the neanderthal taunts of the opposition over the years!

The re-birth of Wor Flags was something else that got on the nerves of non Mags. While it only requires possession of a pair of functioning eyes to admire the sheer brilliance of some of the displays, apparently if you don’t support Newcastle, they’re anything from ‘pathetic’ to ’embarrassing’. Not as embarrassing as the 17 grand Tunnocks appreciation display that we were subjected to at the weekend, mind. But again, we’re in the wrong for supporting our team, especially if you believe the old opposition fan favourite that it’s all funded by the Saudis anyway, which is obviously bollocks. But why let the truth get in the way of your salty tears and another ridiculous conspiracy theory?

As well as that we’ve also invented something called ‘shithousery’. Previously known as ‘game management’ when certain other clubs did it, it’s been rebranded seemingly because we did it better. Fans of Premier League clubs have been up in arms in stadiums, online and on radio talk ins about how we’re ruining the game with our two balls on the pitch shenanigans and conveniently faked injuries. And the mention of Jason Tindall is like a red rag to a bull!

It’s been amusing to watch the sheer amount of people tearing their hair out over the last couple of years and it’s particularly hilarious to watch the complaints from the so called ‘Big 6’. They really don’t like any attempt to level the playing field, do they?

One of the funniest things I’ve read from opposition fans though, is the one about 5.30 kick offs on a Saturday night. If you haven’t heard it, you’ll love it. The conspiracy theory goes that we get given this kick off time ‘every week’ meaning that we’re on TV. And of course, the reason for that is because it’s prime time in Saudi Arabia, meaning that our legions of fans out there and more appropriately, our ownership can watch the games. This is of course because our owners are bribing Sky…

The mind boggles! No thought to the fact that it actually puts our travelling support out, just a blind belief that kicking off at 5.30 on a Saturday somehow gives us an ill gotten advantage. Once again, it’s good to see we’re at the forefront of so many people’s minds, even if literally none of it makes any sense whatsoever. God forbid that our fans sing and cheers the lads on at those games. And Heaven help anyone who brings a bloody flag!

And then we had the sheer temerity to qualify for a place in the Champions League. Again, there was outrage. The Champions League, it seems was a closed shop where only the clubs who wanted to leave it and the Premier League to form their own EuroMegaSuperDoopa league were allowed to play and make money from. A strange logic, but one that we should have accepted, apparently. Thus, the fume was very much real when poor old Liverpool could only finish in 5th and super club Spurs only just made the top 10.

And so, when the Champions League draw was made and we ended up in our ‘Group of Death’ it must’ve felt like Christmas morning in certain parts of the country! The come down after we hammered PSG on the second matchday would have really, really hurt though! Apparently, us being in the competition was futile and our place would have been much better filled by a ‘big club’. Well, it’s hard to see how any of those ‘big clubs’ other than Man City would have coped a great deal better in the group we’ve got. And the fact that we were still in with a chance of qualifying for the next stage of the competition until the last seconds of the group stage is huge and it’s the kind of thing that would have been eating away at fans of certain clubs. It’s been borne out by the reaction to us going out of the competition. It’s funny how we matter so much!

The last moan, and one of the funniest, is the one that seems to suggest that we’ve found a way to influence the PGMOL and VAR officials. It’s an idea that’s been floated more or less every time we’ve got a decision, but the home game against Arsenal caused a little bit of a stir to say the least. I won’t go too far into it, but our winning goal was checked, checked and checked again and still ruled legitimate. They even reviewed the whole thing independently a couple of days later and it was still a goal.

None of this stopped the crying though, with yet more allegations about our owners having some mysterious influence over officials. Mikel Arteta also went into meltdown not once but twice which was pretty hysterical. I must admit, this didn’t really bother me. I could kind of see the point. If that goal had been given against us, I’d have questioned it as well. I wouldn’t have blamed Arsenal’s ownership or fans though. Sadly, they’re probably still banging on about it even as I type.

So what happened next – 4 weeks on from that game and goal – was pretty funny, really. And predictable, I suppose. When we were on the the wrong end of a VAR shocker with the PSG penalty there was more vitriol, desperation and petty jealousy. The word that seemed to be most prevalent on social media was karma. Now karma is a concept I have a bit of belief in, as it goes. But the next morning, when the assistant VAR who recommended that the ref go to the screen was stood down from his next game and then UEFA clarified and updated the handball rule, it was just obvious that it had been a shocking decision against us. Less karma, more drama it seemed.

It’s been a funny old couple of years as a Toon fan. No one likes us, but as the song goes, we don’t care. This was always going to be the way. Having been bought by an organisation worth hundreds of billions, the green eyed monster was bound to surface at some point. It was probably just a bit quicker than any of us might have expected and definitely from lots of unexpected fanbases. I mean, Crystal Palace? Who knew they were such human rights activists? And let’s not get started on our friends down the road and their sudden penchant for shouting about blood on people’s hands.

For such a ‘small club’, we’ve come a long way in a very short space of time, eh?