Newcastle United. WINNERS! One man's story.

Dreams DO come true...

Born in Newcastle, in Wideopen near Newcastle Race Course, I'd started to go to the games with friends in my early teens. A little late to watching stadium football, although I'd always played, a consequence of split footballing loyalties in my own family (a story for another day).

By the time I'd reached my early twenties I was totally hooked. A season ticket in 1993 (#31,521) my own long term commitment as the club was transformed from a sleepy, muddy mess to a potential English super power.

The injection of money into the game following the split of English footballs top flight to The Premiership had seen a few clubs grasp the opportunity to reshape their infrastructure and very existence. To that point the most exiting time I'd had at St James Park was the 'banter' between the Scoreboard and the Corner (and the occasional taunting of the posh seats in the east stand).

With a shiny new stadium and Keegan at the helm anything seemed possible. And by the time Shearer signed all that we missing was that illusive trophy. It seemed like only a matter of time.

Three years at Leeds University and then as an expat in Switzerland and the Czech Republic meant I didn't make all the trips to Wembley. I was at least spared some of the pain. But back I'd come, almost every other weekend to watch the home games. The flights into Manchester. The hire cars to Newcastle. The red-eye flights back to the office Monday morning. Mad, the lot of us...

I did have the misfortune to see the 1996 Charity Shield capitulation against Manchester United in person at Wembley. I was in Cardiff in 2005 for the FA Cup Semi Final, same opposition, same feeling.

By the tender age of 49 I'd given up all hope of ever seeing Newcastle United win a trophy. I think we all had. Football was dominated by the rich few. Even the English football fairytales that were often provided in the League Cup were gone. In essence the elite teams now seeded into later rounds and not able to play each other until the last 16 meant the chances of them knocking each other out and providing an easier path the final for a 'small' club were gone. And with six 'big' teams in the Premier League by then there simply weren't enough trophies to go around. Even the League Cup had become noteworthy again. What chance did little old, yo-yo Newcastle United have, especially under a then owner who'd declared Cups as 'not a priority'.

By now I'd roped my own two sons into the seeming hopelessness of Newcastle United. They were born in the North West so those trips from Liverpool locked in the car with a dad who insisted on playing games such as 'who would you buy for Newcastle if we were taken over by Nation State' eventually wore them down to submission. And in 1999 it was all too much. A vote on the way home from the last game of the season, with Rafa Benitez confirming he was leaving the club like the 1000th cut, that was that, The season tickets were given up.

Then the takeover. There's plenty written on this so all I'll say is that from a footballing perspective there was finally hope. That first transfer window. Bruno, Trippier, Isak added later and to where we are today.

And of course there's the glue. The seeming guiding light through everything post takeover. Eddie Howe.

His management of the team, the culture he's instilled in seemingly everyone he meets at the club is infectious. Standards have been set to the point he was overheard in recent press conference saying 'look at the state of that cup, who cleaned that'. It's an attention to detail, a relentless pursuit to be better tomorrow than we are today that has played such a huge role in making Newcastle United what it now is. Winners.

My third Manchester United Final / Semi-Final disappointment had come just two years ago. Wembley again, this time with both my sons. A day to forget and an example of how NOT to take a trip to Wembley on so many levels. My wife's birthday party the night before the final meant we'd miss the Trafalgar Square party. The train to London with a rushed connection. The game itself and then the decision to get the train straight home that night all meant for a pretty miserable experience. Just like Newcastle United, we'd barely turned up.

We'd not repeat that mistake again.

Roll on 2025 and the Newcastle's run to the final was everything we could have hoped for. There are no easy runs to a final anymore, we'd established that already, but this one was epic. To win the Cup, Newcastle United would have to beat four teams who were in the top four of the Premier League at the time of playing them. And in Chelsea, Arsenal and Liverpool three of the four who'd end up there.

So when the final whistle blew in the second leg of that epic semi-final against Arsenal at St James Park we knew we'd do London the correct way this time. Living in the Wirral meant it would be trains to and from Liverpool Lime Street. Booked! Hotels would need to be sorted too. Booked! Next, Trafalgar Square would be closed that day so what was the plan. Covent Garden. Sorted! Now, the small matter of tickets...

Through cup game attendance we'd secured a place in Pot 6. Surely there would be no tickets left by the Pot 5 draw. But wouldn't you just know it, there were a few tickets left to go into Pot 6. And wouldn't you just know it, we got 2. Our very own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Golden Ticket moment. No guilt from us. Everyone who'd been in pots one to five had their chance, this was ours. I figured I'd earned that for all those years of travel, expense and heartbreak. The final ticket of the three would have to be corporate. We're privileged enough to be able to afford one, three would have been too much. We were going to Wembley, again!

Covent Garden was a 'thing'. We got there early to the Punch and Judy. Beers flowed. I met old friends, best friends, who had their own and in cases far more emotional life journey's to get to that place on that day. And it was Liverpool after all, so whilst there was always hope it felt a little different to the final of 2023. This time we would enjoy it no matter what. I gave a Newcastle United tracksuit top to a stranger from Canada who'd come to the UK for a Spurs game but left that night with a new allegiance. It was just that kind of night.

The Sunday brought new emotions. The heads were not to fuzzy and a full english breakfast soon got rid of any lingering alcohol related stomach notting. Everywhere seemed black and white. Covent Garden for breakfast again was tidied and fresh like the madness and excitement of the night had never happened. It was perhaps fitting, that cleanliness, as if we all needed to treat this day in isolation, with focus and determination.

We got to the Wembley fan park early. Friends we knew and friends we'd never met mingled with some revelry but now I reflect, with a sort of quiet determination that perhaps those going into battle in years gone by would have had. A little drop of something to take the edge up, but eyes focussed, voices loud and sharp. Determined.

Inside the ground and it didn't take long for the atmosphere to ignite in the black and white end. No other description needed.

My boys were behind the Newcastle goal. Me just behind them in the tier above.

I remember signing, and twirling, and laughing, and disbelief, and singing and hugging. I remember Dan Burn punching the air as he ran back toward our end after scoring. I remember players celebrating and crying. I remember holding it together until I saw my boys in our pre-agreed meeting place a full hour after any of us thought we'd realistically get there.

We'd won the cup.

We met good friends back in Covent Garden that night. We all, everyone us of, sat there in disbelief. Just shaking our heads. All replaying our journey's in our heads. Yesterday our club and country had won nothing in our lifetime. Now were were winners. In that moment, our football supporting lives changes forever.

I replay that weekend over and over. I think I'll never know if it was the years of football hurt, or the shared joy of being with my sons that day and the stories they'll hopefully tell their children, or my friends, or pride in a Geordie nation (from Newcastle and beyond), or just the joy of football that makes me feel the way I do now.

I doesn't really matter the reason, I just know dreams do come true.

END