Dear Eddie, Mad Dog and the lads,
Chances are you won’t read this. Some random Geordie pouring out his heart in what might well sound like a bit of a sob story. Why would you want to read that? However, on the off chance that you catch sight of it and find yourself with a spare 5 minutes, here’s my ten pence worth about the final.
I think I speak for the majority of Mags when I say that this cup final matters more than almost anything else. It’s not about glory or bragging rights or anything trivial like that. It’s about dreams. It’s about pride in what and who we are.
Like many others, I’ve supported Newcastle United for a long, long time. In my case it’s well over 40 years. Others have served the cause even longer. It’s like an addiction, Eddie; a birth right and for a lot of us it’s been a cruel curse to be handed down to us by dads, grandads, elder siblings and the like. Like it is with any team. Many a time I’ve joked that I wish my mam and dad had lived in Barcelona or Madrid, giving me a legitimate chance at glory, not glory hunting. But it’s only ever been a joke. I wouldn’t change my allegiance to that badge and that black and white shirt for anything.
Some of my earliest memories are tragically Toon related. I still have a vivid memory of waving my dad off to Wembley in 1976 and then waiting at the window for him to come back home the next day. He’d gone full of hope if not any sense of fashion, dressed in black and white tartan flares and wearing a black and white Tam o’ shanter, no doubt drunk before he got into the passenger seat. That might explain his outfit as well! He returned deflated, a shell of the man who’d walked up the drive the previous day. I now know that it was probably more to do with a raging hangover, than the defeat, but at the time I just thought he was heartbroken. At least he’d seen us win in ’51, ’52, ’55 and ’69. He’d tasted the ultimate victory, sampled silverware.
My dad took me to games from an early age. I was born with a heart complaint and during one of several hospital stays I was sent a letter from the club, telling me how brave I was and rewarding my bravery with free season tickets whenever I was well enough to take advantage of them. I was already in love with the club. Now, I was obsessed. There was not going to be a chance that I’d ever be anything other than black and white from that point. I’d be miserable about it all for a lot of the time, but I’d be black and white. And that’s the point for loads of us. We didn’t get a choice, we didn’t need to be winning all of the time and we’d be loyal without a great deal of reward, but we’d stick with it and we’d never give up hope.
In my early years as a Newcastle fan, I thought it was only a matter of time before we won something. By the time I was a young adult I was already desperate to see us win anything at all and the nagging fear of ‘not in my lifetime’ was already eating away at me. King Kev gave me hope and glory, but in the end we couldn’t even win the Anglo Italian cup. It was Keegan who said that the fans had followed Newcastle through “thin and thin” and he was spot on!
Some years earlier, in 1989 I’d been glued to the radio as Newcastle played in the Football League Centenary Trophy, a tournament played over a weekend at Wembley. Our first game was against First Division champions Liverpool, so I held out little hope. Lo and behold though, we somehow won the game on penalties. This was it…silverware beckoned, I was going to be rewarded for my loyalty. I was finally going to be able to say that my team had won something, even if I didn’t really know what it was. And then we lost the next game against Tranmere of the Fourth Division! Typical Newcastle United!
I learnt to not get my hopes up pretty fast. Supporting Newcastle didn’t need to be about trophies, after all. Good job, really. It became about loyalty, community and a sense of belonging. Newcastle United was a huge part of my identity and year in year out I would give it the majority of my attention. Year in, year out, it let me down. Many managers and board members didn’t seem to care about us and it never really felt like a lot of the players understood what it was to wear the shirt. But I clung to the ones that did; Beardsley, Keegan, McDermott, Quinn, Kelly…the players of my youth. Your lads all seem to get it, Eddie.
We’ve seen Wembley appearances before, of course. Glorious failures in the 90s and the semi final in 2000. And then a couple of years ago against Manchester United. But at some point it can’t just be a day out anymore. In my time I’ve seen West Ham, Wigan, Leicester, Portsmouth, Coventry and even bloody sunderland win at Wembley, albeit it in the pizza cup. But if them, then why not us?
We follow Newcastle because it makes us feel like we belong and it’s a massive part of who we are. It’s rare I’ve felt as welcome as I do stood behind a goal surrounded by fellow Geordies singing my heart out. We support Newcastle because it’s our city, insular and fighting to make itself heard, yet welcoming to almost all. The best city on the planet. We support this team for hopes, dreams, friendship and pride. We support them because it makes us feel good; even when we get beat there’s a certain level of feel good factor. There’s enjoyment to be had, mates to see, strangers to bond with over a common cause.
Just for once, it’d be nice to feel rewarded in the more traditional sense though – being able to watch our players parade a trophy around the pitch. We don’t demand a team that wins, but just this once it feels like it might be the only thing that really matters.
Eddie, you’ve given us back a huge amount of pride. Given us a competitive team that just gets it, like we do and who are loved by the city as a result. Your team has rewarded those who travel thousands of miles to watch their team year in, year out. It’s added even more pride to wearing those famous stripes. It would be beyond words to see us win on Sunday. But I’ll still probably write about it, if you fancy a read!
On Sunday, the opposition doesn’t matter – we demand a team that tries, so get into these! Leave nothing on the pitch, lose your voice on the touchline and get back to Newcastle with no regrets.
Good luck, Eddie. Good luck, lads.
Middle Age Fanclub 