Harry's Game

Last Saturday morning, we laid my Uncle Harry to rest. He was 84 and had lived a good life, but a still sad occasion was made so memorable to wonderful eulogies delivered by my uncle and Harry's two kids, my cousins Grahame and Karen. Harry's favourite music was the sound of a brass band, which was why the music at this uplifting, humanist celebration of his life was provided by the Westoe Colliery Band. Naturally enough, his favourite football team was Newcastle United and my Uncle Brian talked warmly of Harry taking him to his first game, a 4-3 win over Preston in September 1952. Perhaps understandably the first piece of music the Westoe band played was "The Blaydon Races," but what made it even more special was the fact we were in sunderland crematorium. When Newcastle were relegated in 2009, Harry still went out for a pint that night to endure the mickey taking of his mackem mates down the club. Well, as Harry pointed out, he'd gone out every time they went down, so why not deny them a single moment of pleasure. While there's many many reasons why I feel Saturday's Tyne Wear derby is a game I have no real interest in, I would like Newcastle to win this just for Harry and for everyone to go home without smashing the city up. After all, there's far more that binds us together as fans than tears us apart. Here's a piece I've had published in the new fanzine form The Shite Seats blog, "Kinnear's On The Moon," proving yet again that the best writing about NUFC has nothing to do with Baltic Publications, which I hope makes that point about the need for unity.....

I didn’t get to the Man City game; I made a tweet first thing Sunday morning to the effect that if anyone had a freebie knocking about, I’d be prepared to take it off their hands, but I made it abundantly clear, however many the box office still had to shift, I wouldn’t be putting my hand in my pocket for the benefit of Mike Ashley any time soon. In the end, Steve Wraith texted me about 1.15 to say he had a spare going for a fiver; I was tempted, but by that time I was doing my mam’s shopping in Sainsbury’s West Monkseaton so getting to town before kick-off just wasn’t practical.  Not to mention the fact I knew Taylor was in the starting XI…

Actually, I wish I’d either tried to get there or not received the text, as it made me remember just how hard it is not to go to the game at times, even if the game is tripe and the day is only saved by the post-match craic; seeing if the Danny Dyer tribute flashmob turn up in The Bodega, looking bald and moody, for instance. Not taking that seat in the Gallowgate meant that my whole afternoon was spent ignoring the family, in paroxysms of solitary agony, wondering how things were going at SJP. Having sacked Sky years ago, I didn’t see any of the game, other than quick on-line links and, stupid though it sounds, I’m sort of glad City got a second to minimise the importance of the disallowed Tiote goal, even if the referee’s appalling decision kept me awake at night, grinding my teeth. Difficult though it is, the most important thing to me is being gracious in victory and dignified in defeat.

Let’s be clear about this; I’m not completely boycotting the club, I’m just refusing to the current “owners” any of my money. It’s tough to maintain such principles, but I’m certain of the correctness of my stance.  So far this season I’ve managed two games; the City League Cup tie, when a mate over from Ireland who was staying at mine got me a ticket as a thank you (nice of him, but I’d rather have been at West Allotment Celtic v Northallerton Town the same night) and the Stoke City Christmas pantomime, which I adored, because a mate decided that Tenerife for the festivities had more of a ring to it than Blyth. Who can blame him?

Another pal is away skiing in mid Feb, so I’ll be at Villa. Look me up for a pint post-match; I’ll buy you a beer and repeat, ad infinitum, my mantra. While Mike Ashley is in charge of Newcastle United, it doesn’t matter who plays for the team, who manages the club or where we finish in the table at the end of the season. All that matters is that we need Ashley OUT and 100% Fan Ownership IN, though I’ll take 51% Fan Ownership as a transitional demand. We need all fans, whether Wonga clad shirters, opportunistic Derek Llambias loyalists in cashmere sweaters or conformist bona drag popinjay casuals, to leave their egos, agenda and cynicism at the door and join together, whether under the umbrella of NUFC Fans United, unless NUST get their act together quickly, and keep the pressure on Ashley. It’s time for change, time for him to go and time for all of us in the NUFC family to learn, once and for all, that together we are strong.

United we must stand, passionately and resolutely, to get Ashley OUT.