The world won't listen

By the end of September '90 going to the match was just something that I did and all other hobbies and interests had lost their importance. The second game of the season was at home to Millwall where I would experience a defeat at home for the first time. We  had decided that rather than standing on "the corner" our regular spot on the Gallowgate would be "the scoreboard" to the right of the goal as you look at the pitch. It was £2 to get in and the trip to turnstile 8 would follow a weekly routine. I would call on Andy and Gaz and we would get the half past one 610 bus to town, the others would join us on the way at Crawcrook and Ryton. We would all get off the bus at Haymarket (following some "banter" with the sock seller on Clayton Street) and visit the supporters club shop, quite often we would sell programs in the Farmers rest pub just across the road. By the time of our third game (a 1-1 daw against West Ham) it had already sunk in that ...

I loved football when I was a kid, not watching it (I found it boring) but I would play in the streets for hours and hours.  I always had my Newcastle top on which was a hand me down from my older cousin  - I had the Bukta home kit and the yellow away kit.  Other than actually playing I thought football was something that should be avoided -  Newcastle seemed to get beat most weeks and it just put everybody in a bad mood - what was the point? Saturday afternoons had a routine, we would play outside and then tea would be made just in time for when the football scores would be announced in the evening. I remember we had to be silent as the scores came in on the TV while my dad checked his pools coupon. I used to amuse myself by trying to find the places of the football teams on a map of the country as they were read out, my knowledge of geography and where places are in the UK has always been quite good as a result. I was always intrigued by the names of the c...