August 31st: Newcastle United v Leicester City (Championship)
Shit. I knew it was going to happen one of these days. Twenty minutes after I leave the house, I realise I've left my wallet at home. I look in my pockets, and start to ask myself if I can last the trip with three quid. No chance, so back I go. Almost back home, I flag down a taxi and tell him I need to go home then to the bus station. For reasons best known to himself, he wants cash up front, but this is obviously impossible. After three minutes of talking to him, it suddenly transpires that he wants twenty quid for a journey that should cost no more than ten. So after inviting him to fuck off, I start walking.
At more or less the same spot on my return, I flag down another, who takes me to the bus station for £8. Which just shows what a thieving cunt the first one was. At 5.45, the coach to London pulls up. One reason I love getting on empty coaches is the fact that they've often just been cleaned and aired out, which makes for a far more pleasant experience. Not many people get on at Leicester, and even fewer at Milton Keynes, so I'm most comfortable as I sit there in a trance staring out of the window as the world passes by.
At 8.45, I'm sitting down to a cooked breakfast and shortly afterwards, full and satisfied, I'm awaiting the 9.30 coach with a shiny new copy of World Soccer. I sit two-thirds of the way towards the back, and am pleased. Before the coach gets far out of central London, I'm less pleased. The girl in front has been coughing, on average, fourteen times a minute. It's not her fault, obviously she's unwell, but I just don't want to listen to it. The iPod fails to drown it out, so in the end I move to the nearest empty seat - the back row - and am instantly struck by the stink of piss coming (I hope) from the toilet. At Golders Green it's time for another seat switch, and I find one three rows from the front. The coach starts moving again, and- Now I'm fucked off. There's chewing gum all over the seatbelt. At Milton Keynes, a final seat change is in order (that's four different seats for anyone who's lost count), and finally I'm able to settle down and get comfortable.
Behind me is a Newcastle fan who calls himself Ziggy and who, incidentally, is patently not a Geordie. Our conversation is mostly one-sided, because Newcastle fans are utterly incapable of talking about anything but Newcastle. Don't get me wrong, I find Ziggy a wholly likeable bloke, but... But Newcastle fans always seem to have an overinflated idea of their club's stature. There's always a feeling I get talking to Newcastle fans that they have absolutely no idea which club they're talking about. For example they always seem indignant that world-class players choose legitimately massive clubs over theirs, and in the Premiership they were forever expecting their team to challenge for the title, which is plainly a ludicrous ambition for a club like Newcastle.
[Perfect example of the delusion of Newcastle fans: during my conversation with Ziggy, he explains that as part of his three-year season ticket deal, he's entitled to a set number of free cup games. His tactic of not wasting that entitlement on League Cup games and the like was apparently linked to the assumption (and that's what it was - an assumption) that he'd be able to use them on Champions League games. Champions League! For fuck's sake. A top-half finish in the Premiership is a long, long, long way off, let alone Champions fucking League!]
Woodall Services is the next stop, and also where we're to change drivers. I get off to stretch my legs (and wash off any chewing gum that might be on my hands) and then watch as several people try to get back on with KFC or McDonalds bags despite being clearly told that hot or greasy food would not be allowed on the coach.
Another stop is made not long before Newcastle in order to effect another driver change (seriously). As the bus nears the city, I notice something out of the corner of my eye on the right hand side. I turn, and I see the Angel of the North. The first thing that I notice is how unimpressive it is. Really. Crap.
Just before 4pm, the coach arrives at Newcastle, and finally it's time to get off and stretch my legs again. Ziggy and I go our separate ways, and I go for a little wander around the city centre. I find an official club shop, where I pick up a mug and a badge, and for the next hour or so I interact with a few home fans. Most of them are friendly, but there's still the odd occasion where I'm left thinking if I was a smaller or more easily intimidated person I'd be in trouble.
I have a walk up towards the stadium and soon find a decent-looking Chinese buffet restaurant. I decide that six quid is a good deal for all you can eat; I eat at a leisurely pace, drink orange juice and notice that I've been stared at more or less constantly by a bloke at the table opposite, and eventually I leave after about half an hour without the call for any violence.
[This really is a bizarre experience I'm having. Newcastle is simultaneously the most friendly and the most unwelcoming place I've ever visited. Some people here seem to want to be your best mate - a few minutes before I went in the restaurant a bloke in a Newcastle shirt just invited me to the pub with him - yet others seem to want to burn holes in you with their eyes.]
At 6.15, the turnstiles open, and I'm one of the first in. Once inside, the only thing to do is to start climbing. Fourteen flights of stairs later, I'm within sight of the seating area. I bid farewell to my sherpa and give him a generous tip. I find my seat, which is near the front of the top tier, and I sit down to have a read of my magazine. The seats around me fill up, and I go for a wander. When I come back, more seats have been filled, and by 7.45 the away section is well and truly full. Shame I can't say the same about the home seating. Best fans in the world this lot.
[Fun Newcastle United quiz!!! (CLUE: all the answers are e.)
Question 1: Which of the following players have Newcastle signed in this summer's transfer window?
a) Cristiano Ronaldo and Karim Benzema
b) Andrei Arshavin and Cesc Fabregas
c) Didier Drogba and Frank Lampard
d) Steven Gerrard and Fernando Torres
e) Danny Simpson on loan
Question 2: Which of the following did Newcastle win last season?
a) The FA Cup
b) The Premier League
c) The Champions League
d) All of the above
e) Fuck all nowt
Question 3: Which of the following lists describes what Newcastle have won in the last 40 years?
a) 15 League titles, six European Cups, eight FA Cups and four League Cups
b) Six League titles, two FA Cups, the League Cup and the UEFA Cup
c) Five FA Cups, one League Cup and the UEFA Cup
d) 40 League titles, 40 European Cups, 40 FA Cups, 40 League Cups, 40 Spanish Cups, and 10 World Cups
e) The fucking Intertoto Cup once
Question 4: What percentage of football fans who support other clubs thought Newcastle getting relegated was the funniest thing they'd ever seen?
a) 0%
b) 25%
c) 50%
d) 75%
e) 100%
Question 5: Which of the following statements is true?
a) Newcastle United last won a domestic trophy in 1955
b) Alan Shearer's short spell as manager saw the team pick up five points from a possible 24
c) During a Premier League game at home against Aston Villa on April 2, 2005, Newcastle United were already 3-0 down and down to ten men when Lee Bowyer and Keiron Dyer started knocking the piss out of each other, and both were sent off
d) Then-Newcastle defender Jean-Alain Boumsong was once described in the Observer Sport Monthly as "not so much a weak link at the back as an extra attacker for the opposition"
e) All of the above
If you scored 5 out of 5, you're a Newcastle United expert! Congratulations! You win nothing, just like Newcastle.]
Next to me is Den and his son Chris, and we comment on the stadium and the view from the top tier. The game starts , and for the first few minutes Newcastle look up for it. This appearance soon fades, though, and City take control. In the first half, Leicester manage two half-decent attempts on goal - one from a Steve Howard header, the other a Paul Gallagher free-kick - and Matty Fryatt is presented with a golden opportunity late in the half, which he hacks into the stands.
At the interval, my neighbours and I discuss the goings-on thus far. We're all in agreement - City should be a goal up at least. But they're not.
After half time, the home side look more confident. Seven minutes in, Danny Guthrie takes advantage of some slack defending to blast a straight shot past Chris Weale. The place erupts. Fuck.
The rest of the second half sees a lot of disjointed and incomplete passing, and despite some reshuffling by the manager little actually changes. The referee blows his whistle - two defeats in a week. Den turns to me and asks how I'm getting home. Well, the intention is to catch an overnight coach to London, then one back to Leicester in the morning. Hearing this absurdity, he offers me a seat in his car. Would this be cheating? Yes, it would. Am I going to do it? Yes, I am.
Some time later, we reach the bottom of the stairs, and we hear a lot of noise. It seems Newcastle fans are as classy as Chelsea fans are (id est, not even slightly). The witticisms include "yuz're shit" and, erm... Well to be honest, that's the pick of the bunch. No magnanimity, even in victory, no friendly chat, no basic respect. Just twats. But then I expected nothing less.
A ten minute walk to the car, then, before a three hour drive down the motorway, punctuated only by a brief refilling stop at Wetherby. I try to talk for most of the way, but around Sheffield I detect that what's coming out has turned into weary gibberish. The next thing I know, I'm waking up a few miles from Leicester, and I'm dropped near home some ten hours before expected.
I walk in the door, and I sit down. Even though it's almost 1.45am, I still have time and energy to check other scores. Nothing of any interest there though, so it's off to sleep. Forty-one league games remaining.
Final score: Newcastle 1 Leicester 0
Time: 21 hours
Ticket: £25
Coach tickets: £45.50
Total: £70.50
[*I'm not counting the taxi fare into town, because it's my own fault I had to get a taxi.]
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