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Opinion

So there we were – 1,500 Newcastle United fans trying to find a way to sneak into Wembley

1 year ago
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In February of 1976, I was a scrawny 16 year old with no great aims in life, in the last year at school, getting school reports that read “shows no interest”.

However, there was one overriding interest in my life and that was Newcastle United.

My Christmas present had been the money to go to every Toon home game, which allowed me to save up for the odd away game, two to be precise.

At 12.30 every Saturday, meet in the back lane behind Vince’s house, and me, Vince, Tommy and Ian would head over the rickety old Redheugh bridge, up past the cattle market, clocking to see if there were any away supporters hanging around and how many there were. On up past the Now Famous to the Mag, Sven store and into the Leazes end at our usual spot, halfway back, slightly to the right of centre behind the goal. Winning most home games with decent football we were happy little clams.

Then the unbelievable happened, we got to the League Cup Final.

The tickets went on sale to season ticket holders and thru the supporters club to people who had been to away games. The supporters club was run out of the old Bridge hotel, next to the Keep. I showed up every night with my two stamps. First it was five plus, then four, then three. Until the last night I went, it was down to two. Sadly, I wasn’t the first one there, maybe not even the second, I don’t remember, but I wasn’t that lucky.

So me and Tommy decided that we should go to Wembley anyway and buy a ticket at the ground, because somebody would have a ticket or two for just over face value to give to a couple of likely lads.

The walk up the side of the A1 towards the Washington services made us realise that we weren’t the only chancers out there. There were large and small groups all up the road.

Then luck hit, a car pulled up next to us and the guy was yelling at the top of his voice, “hurry up, HURRY UP FFS!” When we looked around every other person on the road had run over to try and get in too. We were nearly mobbed as we pulled away.

He dropped us at the end of the North Circular Rd, bless him. Canny lad.

We headed into Trafalgar Square (where else?) and found the throng. I thought the whole of the North East must have been in London that day. There was mayhem, people in the fountain, on the statues, the noise was deafening and not a blue shirt in sight. No bother either, just one big party.

Off to the stadium and up Wembley way, again more noise, banter and not too many blue shirts, I was beginning to think we would be able to pay at the door in their end at this point.

As you might have guessed, we were never getting a ticket.

So we and about 1,500 others tried to work out ways of sneaking in.

Unfortunately, the Jocks had trashed the place the year before, so all of the weak points had been fixed up. This was before cell phones or live TV, so radio was the only option. We didn’t have one, neither did 1,497 of the others, but there was one poor soul who got surrounded and was our hero. You couldn’t hear it but he yelled out the action to match the roars from inside.

As soon as they opened the doors to let people out, there were all of us running in!

So that last ten minutes the team had a boost to the volume. The emotional drain that came at the final whistle, the sing in defeat defiance all around us was something I will never forget.

We even got a lift part of the way back home by a Man City supporter, so I have always had a soft spot for their team.

This time?

Well, the scrawny kid now lives in the US and can afford to fly in to watch it with his son.

Still can’t get a ticket and shouldn’t, but I will be in Newcastle, with my boy, drinking, dancing like a fool at every big opportunity and willing us to our first trophy in his lifetime.

Brian / Weyhaddaway

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