Tales of a Newcastle United glory hunter | OneFootball

I will be the first to admit that I am a shameful Newcastle United glory hunter.

I was born in Australia and have no surviving English culture within my family.

In 1996, my grandparents travelled to England and said that they would send back some kits for me and my two older brothers.

Not wanting to follow in their Manchester United coloured footsteps, as any good 6yr old would do, I checked the Premier League table and picked the team at the top.

Several months later, I was decked out in my new kit, being mercilessly bullied by my brothers after we just lost the league. This only cemented my decision to support the magpies, and thus an adopted Geordie was born.

I got to my first live game in 2012.

At the beginning of a five week lads trip through Europe, I had my eyes on the FA Cup draw. I was going to be in London for that weekend and eagerly awaited news on if I would be finding my way to Wrexham or Brighton. Fortunately, after a nervous penalty shootout, the more local option came through. So down I went, with no ticket, and only the foolhardy hope of a 21yr old abroad to guide me.

Despite the fears of my mates that I’ll be mobbed by football hooligans, I wear my Newcastle kit with pride. Leaving the station I bumped into a guy who had a spare ticket from his mate who didn’t make it down. I was in luck. After spending years watching Newcastle on TV, I was actually going to be at a live Newcastle game.

It was a dream come true. And I knew that this dream would continue into what would be a tremendous day for the black and white. Of course, a depressing result was the outcome, losing 1-0.

Fortunately my new best friend was happy to share his tales with me about following Newcastle around the country and showing me his tattoos of every club crest. Despite freezing half to death and watching a disappointing 1-0 loss, I was over the moon. Seeing my heroes live in the flesh was the perfect tonic to keep this Newcastle United glory hunter motivated.

My next game came during a five month work stint in England in 2014. Off to Upton Park this time, again without a ticket, to hopefully see my first Newcastle win. Feeling nervous on the tube, I hunted down some Geordies in Newcastle shirts to share in some pre match banter. They laugh when I get scammed by a scalper and tell me to send them a message if I ever make it up their way. Fortunately, after putting on my best sad tourist act, the ticket office sorted me out and I settle into my seat moments before a moment of brilliance from a certain Yohan Cabaye. My day is topped off with his over the wall antics and I head out to soak up the feeling of witnessing my first ever Newcastle win in person.

A couple of weeks pass and I am finally heading up to Newcastle. I message my newfound mates and let them know that I’ve got tickets to see us beat the mackems at St James Park. They tell me to be at the pub at 10am to get lubricated before the game and I duly oblige. We part ways with a mix of excitement and concern and I make my first visit to the cathedral on the hill. Taking my seat in the revered Gallowgate End, I’m feeling like a teenager with their first love. I ignore the guidance from others that tell me it won’t last, or that I’ll only break my own heart, and I feel what it’s like to find “the one.” Three soul crushing goals later and I learn my lesson of heartbreak far sooner than expected. However, plenty of beers with the lads after and I’m once more convinced that my hunt for glory will bear fruits soon.

Another couple of weeks pass and I’ve convinced my new work colleagues and my partner to come and watch Newcastle triumph over struggling Fulham. I needed a pick me up after that last experience and my never ending optimism sees the bottom of the table cottagers as the perfect opportunity. Clearly I had forgotten about Newcastle’s uncanny ability to throw a spanner in the works. Another depressing 90 minutes passes and I’m beginning to feel like I’m cursed and perhaps that glory is harder to find than I hoped.

Next up is another visit to that wonderful city in the north for the visit of Cardiff. This time I bring my future wife to share the beauty with her so that she can fall in love as well. My Geordie mates are up for a few pre match pints as always and I realise I’m more nervous than ever. I love this town, I love this club, and I love this woman, what if she doesn’t feel the way I do?

After a convincing win, with some tremendous atmosphere, and an incredible walk out protest, I check in with her. Surely she’s now as mad as I am about the Toon. Lo and behold, she’s in love. But not with the football. It is the kindness of the Geordies to strangers, their passion for their club, and the beautiful city of Newcastle that has her hooked. And fortunately for her this love has nothing at all to do with the hunt for glory.

The last game I’ve been privileged to attend came during a whirlwind work trip to London in 2019. I’m off to Brighton again, with a mate’s season ticket, feeling like a spy on a secret agent mission. I’m so nervous that someone will out me and that the football hooligan fears of my mates will become a reality. Fortunately, everyone is in decent spirits. The banter is great, the result less so, but I’ll take any opportunity I can to rekindle my love of the black and white.

So, 29 years ago I began my football supporting days as a glory hunter. I picked the best team and assumed all I had to do was wait for the riches to follow.

What I didn’t expect was to fall in love with the club, the city, and the people.

Thank you Newcastle, and the Geordie faithful, for welcoming me into your arms, and letting me enjoy this incredible glory hunting journey with you. I have now tasted the feeling of success and it was definitely worth the wait.