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A Premier Experience

 

As

 

Gazzetta goes to Geordieland

By

 

Mick Dennison

 

Visiting grounds such as The Lawn at Forest Green and Cherrywood Road, Farnborough, makes you appreciate the excellent facilities and stadium we have at Christie Park. Recently we have been fortunate enough to experience what the third division has to offer not only with all the relegated league teams but also during our FA Cup runs (some not that good at all actually – Chesterfield!!)

 

We had a taste of the high life last season when we went to Ipswich, and what a fantastic stadium that was, however all that was dwarfed and paled into insignificance the day I visited St James’ Park. No, I don’t mean the home of Exeter – that comes next week, the one I’m talking about is the headquarters of the Toon Army – Newcastle United.

 

Newcastle is a football mad town – fact! The week I was up there on business was the same week they had beaten Portsmouth 3-0 in the Premiership Their next game was on the Wednesday, a Carling Cup game against West Brom – it was all pay – I was definitely up for that.

 

I walked a route to work that took me past the newly re-furbished stadium, a shining edifice of concrete and steel, towering above the horizon just on the periphery of the town centre. The ticket office was situated under the brand new Milburn Stand – the statue of “Wor Jackie” situated a mere 50 yards away outside the neighbouring Newcastle Brewery – he definitely would have been impressed. I obtained my ticket for that stand at a knockdown price of £17, a snip really and well worth it just to get a look at the famously named new stadium – now like Old Trafford, probably making more money from the shop and corporate hospitality.

 

The night of the match approached and I joined the black and white throng as it snaked through the city centre, a mere eight minute walk from my hotel. There is something about a night match in the autumn, what with the dark nights, the lights of the city and the expectation of the floodlit stadium, my ticket was burning a hole in my coat pocket – I couldn’t wait to get there.

 

Nearing the ground I passed a pub that was packed to the rafters – all two floors of it, no chance of getting a pint in there, I needn’t have worried, the stadium was filled with beer outlets all the way round on the inside. One thing did strike me though, everyone was walking, there wasn’t a car to be seen, the hoards also poured out of the Metro stations in the city and at the ground itself.

 

There were the typical food outlets scattered around the base of the stands and the “Geordie Jackpot” ticket sellers, all making a huge profit no doubt. The programme was only £2.50 in full colour and there was a fanzine called “The Mag” at £2, again in glossy colour – money spent it was time to worship at this great football cathedral.

 

I was unaware of the position of my seat, however I was guided to it by an army of helpful and informative stewards. My route took me further and further down towards the pitch, in fact I was on the front row and watched the teams warming up in almost virtual daylight, such was the power of the floodlights. All eyes were on the main man, Alan Shearer, but would he start the game. In the papers that day it was intimated that Newcastle would put out a scratch team, even though they would like to actually win the competition. Looking over to my left and approximately ten seats away was the other great man – Sir Bobby Robson, making his final adjustments to his game plan.

 

Before the teams came out I took in the enormity of the stadium. I was sat in the seats from where the cameras point at the pitch, it curved four tiers majestically around, merging with the North Stand behind one of the goals (used to be the Leazes End). The 2000 away fans were housed in the top tier of the curve, I wondered if the players looked like ants from their lofty position.

 

I looked straight across to the East Stand, once the only decent enclosure in a once dilapidated hovel of a ground ( a Geordies words – not mine), and once emblazoned with the name of the towns famous beer. It curved round to the South Stand that in a past life was the Gallowgate End where the most fanatical of fans worshiped the likes of Malcom (Supermac) MacDonald, Gazza, Waddle and Keegan from a huge expanse of open terrace. So the whole ground was completely enclosed and I waited for the first song from the famous Toon Choir.

 

The Blaydon Races erupted from the tannoy (just a bit better than ours – sic) and the singing reverberated round the curves, I didn’t know all the words but joined in all the same with 46,000 others – what a fantastic crowd for the Carling Cup 3rd Round. The teams emerged and a deafening roar rang out all around the ground, what a noise, what an experience – what a set of fans.

 

As the game was played during the half term there were lots of families attending, some told me that it would be the only chance of getting to see the team play live this season. The ticket prices for European games were around £35, and with one of the cheapest season tickets being £500 it was easy to realise that football in the Premier League is a dear do. The pubs in the city provide a public service however, and show all the home games live on giant screens to the soccer mad Geordies.

 

To say it was a scratch team you would need your tongue firmly in your cheek. What would Jim Harvey do with the likes of Lua Lua, Ameobi, Robert, Solano and our old friend Titus Bramble. Never mind Olivier Bernard, Hugo Viana, Steve Harper in goal and the youthful Jermaine Jenas.

 

Newcastle absolutely battered West Brom in the first half, but for all the pressure they went in one down at half time thanks to an Ameobi own goal from a rare Baggies corner. The second half saw more of the same as Gary Speed came on for the injured Viana – Sir Bobby was having kittens whilst Gary Megson was coolness personified – the crowd bayed for the messiah. It was well orchestrated, it started in the South Stand and made its way round the whole ground – Sheeeraaa, Sheeeraa, Sheeeraa they chanted just before Laurent Robert beat his colleague Ameobi to the ball to smash in an unstoppable shot past the heroic Russell Hoult – extra time beckoned.

 

I really thought I was getting my monies worth but felt a little short changed at not seeing the ex-England centre forward. However when Lee Hughes the ex-Kidderminster forward came on as sub to score with almost his first touch Sir Bobby had no option but to send on his star attraction. It was too late and as hundreds poured out of the ground leaving a patchwork quilt of grey seats it was all over, the Magpies had failed at the first hurdle.

 

The away fans were holding a disco on the top of the curve, I winced at the thought of someone falling from such a great height. I’m sure they didn’t care, they had beaten Newcastle on their own patch and were going to party all night.

 

It did not take long for the ground to spew out 46,000 fans, and they all trudged their dejected paths home, either back through the city centre or onto the hundreds of busses that waited eagerly to take the silent army home. As it was Halloween week I managed to see one of the other famous sights of Newcastle, and I don’t mean the Tyne Bridge or the Baltic Gallery. No, I got a great eyeful of the famous Geordie women as they tottered on huge heels in tight skirts that resembled belts giggling their way to the night clubs. It was freezing by now but these girls are made of stern stuff up in the North East.

 

The whole experience is one that I can recommend to any genuine football fan, it is a million miles away from the Conference and perhaps a little too overwhelming for some, but you know, I deny any fan to come away from this place without dreaming of better things!

 

A small gallery of pics from the game - sorry for the blurred ones - my hands were shaking with the cold!!!

 

 

http://www.gazzettaonline.co.uk/Geordieland.htm

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actually what struck me about that article, is that despite the fact i cant afford to go to many games, i CAN look back and say ive seen shearer score a hatrick etc

 

Guess at the time we took it for granted, but i guess like a dead relative, you miss them more when they are gone than when they are around to get on yer nerves :)

 

 

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