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 clubs too, Aston Villa, Queens Park Rangers, Everton. where were they? What colour did they play in? What was their history? I had a fantastic football encyclopaedia which I would spend hours browsing through, the eight year old me had an amazing knowledge of the English game that I've long since forgotten.
A regular feature of a Saturday evening was the phrase " I see the town got beat again! Useless!" it didn't bother me though, it was time for "The Dukes of Hazard" and after that I would be back outside playing again. Looking back it was great how the games of football we used to play developed, someone would just turn up and told to join in, "you're on that team" one of us would shout and the game would continue, whether there were two players or thirty it didn't matter. The pitch was usually "the green" at the top of Rockwood Hill next to the plantin, sometimes the green on the estate (which had an incline of about 30 degrees) while other times we played on the road as traffic wasn't an issue back then. Some games would literally last all day, you could go and have your dinner, come back and join in again. Goalies would be rotated or we would follow the "rush keeper" rule which basically meant the last man back could save it. The rules were often made up as we went along but the "Last goal winner" rule was the most important one.
In 1982 England captain Kevin Keegan signed for Newcastle. It was like the whole world changed. Just playing football wasn't enough, knowing how Newcastle were getting on became a part of life and someone would usually have a wireless on while we played our cup final on the green. We weren't ordinary players anymore though, some of us would be Keegan, others Waddle or Beardsley and we would add our own commentary as we dribbled past each other or scored a goal. Newcastle were promoted in '84 and I loved hearing the stories about how Keegan left his testimonial game in a helicopter. Looking back I can see I was never going to have a choice about which team I supported but I can see now that this is where it really all began.
Actually going to the match wasn't something we ever really thought about doing though, playing was enough. Waddle, Beardsley and Gascoigne came and went but we just got on with it. We would wear our (now Umbro) shirts and that was as far as our support went. Until 1990. Italia '90 was a turning point, the England team (still the best England team Ive seen) featuring the three former Newcastle players (and managed by a Geordie) captured the nations imagination before being cruelly knocked out on penalties in the semi final. Watching football wasn't boring anymore.
Then one day during the summer holidays one of the lads said the words that would change everything..."Fancy going to the match?"
Newcastle, having been beaten in the play offs by Sunderland the previous season were promotion favourites and were playing at home to Plymouth Argyle in the second division at St James park. I had only ever past St James' on visits to town and can remember the floodlights that dominated the city and the old west stand but they had all gone now, replaced by the new Milburn stand. It was a bright sunny day, we were all wearing the Greenalls "barcode" kit as we took our place on "The corner" for the first time. There are some things you never forget in life and this is one of them, I can remember climbing the steps, seeing the pitch for the first time, smelling the brewery, singing the players names during the warm up but most of all the atmosphere, the feeling of being part of something. The first goal I saw live at St James was a Benny Kristensen 25 yard rocket into the Leazes end goal, the crowd went mad. Micky Quinn followed up in the second half with a typical Micky Quinn goal. I loved the banter on the terraces, the way you could swear at the top of your voice and no-one thought anything of it, the movement and sway of the crowd and "The Blaydon Races" sang properly before we hurtled down the terrace steps.
I thought it was the best thing in the world. There was a point and I got it. I was addicted.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lgTMlcsgPzQ
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