Until I went to college, I wasn’t that interested in football, but one term in Newcastle changed all that. To say that Newcastle is a football-mad city is an understatement. The current home, St James’ Park, towers above the city. It’s unusual being a one-club city—the closest rivals, Sunderland (the Mackems), are 40 miles away.
My Saturday morning trips to the record shop near the big market on home match days were accompanied by the Toon Army starting their day. While I was crate-digging for Primal Scream and Suede singles in the bargain bin, they were off to the pubs and strip bars, which had been open since early morning.
Football was unavoidable. The passion. The joy. The sorrow.
And so, I became a Magpie. We were in the old Second Division, but after 1992, when Keegan became manager, the journey towards the Premier League—along with near misses and cup failures—began.
Trophyless since June 1969, a month before man landed on the moon and a few months before I landed on Earth. The first domestic trophy was already a distant memory (1955).
Now, 70 years later, we have a domestic trophy: the Carabao Cup (the League Cup). To some, a tinpot trophy—unless you win it.
For Newcastle United, winning the cup this weekend has been more than just the end of a journey of disappointment. I’ve always loved watching them. Every team has highs and lows. Some teams win more. Some teams are more global. Some teams have foreign investment (so do we).
I don’t have a long history (35 years makes me a newbie), but I’ve always been proud to support Newcastle. I could have supported a London team (I’ve lived here for over 30 years).
But I stayed faithful—to the club, to the city, to the rollercoaster ride of being a Newcastle fan. Through the highs, the lows, the near misses, and the heartbreaks, I never wavered.
Black and white are my colours—just like my drink, Guinness.
What about you? Share your story of faithfulness—whether in football, life, or anything else—and how it was finally rewarded.
