NUFC: Ten Things to Love About Bruno.

As we approach the end of another Premier League season rumours seem to be intesifying about Bruno Guimaraes. Across every type of media there seems to be almost a desperate push for the move. Whether it be Manchester City or Arsenal, PSG or Real Madrid, someone somewhere seems to think that Bruno is better off elsewhere.

We could go on and on about why, but that’s not the point of this piece. Southern based press, conspiracy theories and all that can wait. People seem to think that Bruno needs to leave but I’m guessing the vast majority of Newcastle fans would disagree.

Bruno Guimaraes joined Newcastle in January of 2022 from Lyon at a cost believed to be in the region of £36 million. He wasn’t quite an instant hit as Eddie Howe held him back in order to properly acclimatise to the rigours of the Premier League. Instead, he would come on as a sub in a number of games before finally making his full debut away at Southampton. And what a debut! It was in this game that Bruno scored his first Toon goal – an outrageous back heeled volley from a Dan Burn header across goal, right in front of the travelling fans. A star was born!

It’s fair to say that the love affair started that evening and has moved on at pace ever since. Bruno fell for us and we returned his feelings ten fold. In fact, you could say that we love Bruno almost as much as he loves Joelinton. The bastard (more of that later, if you didn’t understand).

For me, Bruno is easily one of the best central midfielders I’ve seen in over 40 years of supporting Newcastle. I can look back on a lot, but without thinking too deeply would struggle to come up with many to rival Guimaraes. Gazza, Robert Lee, Gary Speed and Yohan Cabaye spring straight to mind, but after that I’m reaching a bit. I mean, when you were raised on a diet of players like Kevin Dillon, John Trewick, Pat Heard and Amdy Faye, midfielders begin to stand out for all the wrong reasons.

But comparisons are not what this is about. Rather than ramble and confirm what we all already know (he’s dead good at football), I thought I’d give you ten reasons why I (and probably a lot of us) love Bruno.

1. He just strikes me as a cracking lad. Bruno and family just make for a lovely story. His kids are Geordies and his wife seems very happy with the whole set up. Bruno seems to have time for everyone; a ready smile and a willingness to immerse himself in the city and the region.
2. He’s a current Brazilian international. Ever since I watched the Brazil team in the 1982 World Cup and heard about their 1970 side, I’ve been a little bit in love with their footballers. Apart from Fumaca, of course. He was shite. But the fact that Bruno gets in that side is a hell of a yardstick of his quality and I like that being part of Newcastle United.
3. His kids are Geordies and Bruno seems to be very proud of that fact and of just being able to be a part of our culture. For a lad to come halfway around the world and be obviously so in tune with this kind of pride is just wonderful. Imagine Mbappe, Ronaldo or many other so called superstars being the same. You can’t, can you?
4. His nickname/pet name for Joelinton just seems to be ‘bastard’. Much like Mirandinha being taught swearing by Gazza back in the 80s, someone has clearly got to Bruno! And Bruno seems to love it!
5. His celebrations. For a lot of us fans, football is about passion and joy. Bruno echoes that as a player. Whether he’s climbing on to advertising hoardings, doing little dances, kissing the badge, telling various people he loves them or just hoisting up a corner flag, Bruno seems to have something for every occasion. And he clearly revels in expressing that joy. So much so, in fact that there are occasion where he scores and gives us about 5 different layers of celebration! Remember the knee slide at Southampton away, remember the stripping off against Leicester at home, remember the flag waving at home to Sheffield Utd! There’s lots to love.
6. His laugh. If you’ve watched him on any of the club’s videos you’ll have heard that high pitched laugh. It always raises a smile and is just another sign of Bruno being a bloke who just loves life.
7. He’s ridiculously uncoordinated, yet still a brilliant footballer. I’ve seen Bruno play darts and I’m sure I’ve watched a video of him riding a bike or a scooter or a skateboard. He was shocking at all of it! It’s one of those little quirks that we can’t fail to like. Pu a ball at his feet though…different story.
8. His dad. Never before have I shown such an interest in Dick. The man behind the number 39 has become a part of the whole story of these last two and a bit years. Whether he’s accompanying his son and his family while they get interviewed or joining in with the singing in the pub or on the concourse at an away game, the man has become an unlikely star. None of us would have realised that Bruno’s arrival would lead to us loving Dick too…
9. His passing. I’m guessing we’re all fans of the outside of the boot pass that Bruno has, especially when it comes off. There was a notable one against Luton at home this year that led to Kieran Trippier’s goal. Bruno also does a nice line in ‘no look’ passes, with a one in to Miggy against Wolves a particular peach. The other one that springs to mind is a pass that I don’t have a name for, possibly because I don’t play FIFA. However, it’s a pass that almost looks like he’s scuffed it, almost a scoop. He seems to pretty much miss hit the ball, like he’s trying to dig it out of the turf and it’s quite a common pass that he makes. Teenagers might tell me it’s a knuckle ball, but I don’t know. Anyway, it’s a passing style that I like in amongst a range that I’m a big admirer of.
10. VAMOOOOOOOS! None of us are surely going to tire of that any time soon.

For me, it’s essential that we keep Bruno. For all the talk of that £100m clause, he’s worth much more to the club and the team. The goals, the showmanship, the clinical passes, even the run of games he went on this season to avoid that crucial yellow card are all illustrative of just how integral Bruno Guimaraes has become at Newcastle United.

Talk of him leaving feels ridiculous. Release clause or not, there shouldn’t be a valid reason to sell Wor Bruno!

Gallowgate Cult Heroes: number 7, Hatem Ben Arfa

Every once in a while, whoever you might support, a player arrives at your club and changes everything. The rules are thrown out of the window, the script torn up and the unpredictable becomes a part of your weekly diet. These players are just…different. Mavericks, renegades, geniuses, ballers, call them what you want, we’ve all had at least a couple over the years.

Hatem Ben Arfa was very much a maverick and for a short time he changed what we thought was possible from a player wearing the black and white stripes and gave everyone who watched him a chance to rub their eyes and wonder if what they’d just witnessed had really happened. His time lacked consistency and even a decent ending, but he left us with a ton of amazing memories.

Ben Arfa was signed in August 2010, from Marseille, initially on loan. It became evident quite quickly that we’d signed someone pretty special. There were flashes of inspirational skill, even though it took the player a while to find his feet. But find his feet he did when we played Everton away in the September of that season. As the half was coming to an uneventful close he took a pass to feet from Wayne Routledge. He then ignored the winger’s overlapping run, preferring – shock horror – to keep hold of the ball. At first he seemed unsure of what to do, but then, having turned this way and that, he faced up his marker, swerved to the left and hit an unstoppable shot from about 25 yards into the far corner of the net. A star was born.

Sadly, less than a month later, Ben Arfa’s season was over when he was the victim of a shocking tackle from Nigel de Jong in our game away at Man City. A broken tibia and fibia would mean that we wouldn’t see Hatem in a black and white shirt for another year.

Perhaps understandably after such a massive injury. Ben Arfa’s second season started rather quietly and he failed to really dominate games at first. However, he would really make his mark in January of 2012.

For those in attendance, Ben Arfa’s goal against Blackburn in the FA Cup may well go down as one of the greatest goals we’ll have witnessed live. As he received the ball in midfield there were three defenders in close attendance. But still, he turned and ran at them. It felt like fraction of a second before he was in the box at the Gallowgate end and despite what felt like half of Rover’s defence surrounding him, Ben Arfa continued to wriggle through. Finally, with opposition defenders pretty much surrounding him, he managed to drag the ball back onto his left foot and hammer it high into the net from the edge of the six yard box.

I’d seen plenty of players who could dribble over the years, but Ben Arfa felt different. Yes, he was inconsistent, but at times it felt like he had the ball on a string. The goal against Blackburn was very much one of these occasions.

Ben Arfa briefly lit up the Mike Ashley years. It felt like an un-Ashley type signing when we got him. He came with a reputation as a little bit of a trouble maker and was said to be on strike when we took him from Marseille. Subsequent years and multiple clubs would prove this to be the case. Why else would Marseille be letting him go out on loan? And yet, perhaps with re-sale pound signs in his eyes, Ashley sanctioned the signing and Hatem became an integral part of the team that also contained Coloccini, Cabaye, Tiote, Gutierrez, Cisse and Ba and would go on to finish 5th in the Premier League.

But, having fallen out with teammates and management left, right and centre at both Lyon and Marseille the writing was surely on the wall from the moment he signed.

Hatem was one of those players who created a buzz. Whenever he got the ball there was an expectancy that something was about to happen. It became apparent that Hatem himself didn’t always know what that something was, but he was tremendously exciting and frustrating in equal measure. Often, when he should have passed he went off on some fruitless solo endeavour, but then there were times when, just as it looked like he’d lost possession, he’d somehow create a yard of space and do something breathtakingly brilliant.

For me, he had a little bit of a Jack Grealish quality, in that he was just as likely to slow play down and turn back with the ball than he was to produce a moment of magic. But in his time at the Toon, we lived for that magic!

Ben Arfa though, will always be remembered for one moment; that goal against Bolton. He took the ball from Yohan Cabaye fairly deep in his own half, but what came next took the breath away. An outrageous flick and turn took him past his marker who was left flailing around on the turf. Then it was all about power. Ben Arfa evaded a desperate tackle midway into opposition territory, somehow managing to keep his feet as his ankles were clipped. Then he just ran for goal, running through two half hearted challenges on the edge of the box before poking the ball past the onrushing keeper with the outside of his foot.

The initial turn was balletic, the drive with the ball all about brute power and speed and the finish almost an instinctive flick. If you watch it on YouTube, there’s an angle where he’s running at the camera and when he’s challenged in their half he cries out, as if he’s been hurt and might take a tumble. But it’s in the blink of an eye and rather than go over, before you know it, the ball’s in the Bolton net and the Gallowgate are up in celebration. From receiving the ball to it hitting the net took around 8 seconds and it’s something that won’t be forgotten for a long time for those that were there. What a goal. What a moment. Ben Arfa at his thrilling best.

Sadly, it wasn’t to last. Almost inevitably Hatem would clash with those in charge. Injuries would disrupt the rest of the 2011/2012 season, as well as a lot of the following year. Rumour has it that, like at other clubs, Ben Arfa fell out with his fellow players, with club captain Fabricio Collocini particularly irked by his behaviour. It’s said that Colo even went to the manager and asked for Ben Arfa to be benched for fear of a player rebellion. Once again, the Ben Arfa attitude had led to him finding himself out of favour and on the move.

There were fan protests about Ben Arfa’s absence from the squad – a Che Guevara style banner with Hatem’s face and the word Hope was regularly seen at St. James’ – and his plight become a bit of a focal point for general fan unrest at the Ashley regime and the running of the team by Pardew. He even appeared sitting with the fans for the home game against Cardiff that year. When Ben Arfa was finally loaned to Hull City, his career with the Toon was over. We would never truly see the man at the peak of his powers.

Ben Arfa’s time at Hull was short lived – amazingly he failed to find inspiration under Steve Bruce – and eventually Newcastle terminated his contract, leaving him as a free agent. His story at Newcastle was sadly over. But his story as a footballer would have much more to come with eventful spells at Nice, PSG, Rennes, Valladolid, Bordeaux and Lille following as well as an unexpected recall to the France squad. But at almost every turn, there was controversy and conflict and at present he remains a free agent.

Overall Ben Arfa made 86 appearances for Newcastle scoring 14 goals, and he never really fulfilled his potential. Still though, there can’t be many of us who wouldn’t have a goal from Hatem in their Top 10 Toon goals of all time.

As you’d expect though, there is one final twist in the Ben Arfa tale. What is he doing now? Not content with waiting things out and looking at finding another club, Hatem was last heard of as embarking on a career as a professional padel tennis player and was reported to be ranked in the top 1500 players in the world!

Never a dull moment, eh?

Gallowgate Cult Heroes: Number 6 Mirandinha

Have you ever bought something based more on the way it looks on a shelf than for it’s actual quality? Ever rushed in and made an impulse buy without really thinking it through? I definitely have. For some reason with me it’s hats that bring out the impulse buyer, despite my little head. Newcastle United’s weakness in the past hasn’t quite been so specific; just footballers in general.

It’s fair to say that Newcastle United have never been afraid to gamble. We’ve always been fans of causing a bit of a stir. From spoiling Sir Stanley Matthews’ day in Cup Finals, signing Chilean brothers at a time when most Geordies couldn’t have found Chile on a map to…well you could bring it up almost to the present day when you think about it. I mean, after a couple of years of being here no one suspected what we were about to unearth in Joelinton did they?

One such gamble was the 1987 signing of Brazilian international, Mirandinha or to give him his full name, Francisco Ernani Lima da Silva. Signed from Palmeiras for the princely sum of £575,000, Mira had just scored at Wembley for Brazil in a Rouse Cup game against England. So of course, we jumped in two footed to sign the first Brazilian to play in English football as a replacement for Peter Beardsley, who just left to head to Liverpool. Clearly due diligence wasn’t so much of an everyday phrase back then.

Fifteen-year-old me was thrilled through. My logic was that he was Brazilian and so he couldn’t possibly be anything but class. I mean, I’d watched the 1982 World Cup and been gutted when that amazing Brazil team had got knocked out and I’d also seen plenty of footage of that Brazil ’70 side. My young brain imagined that all Brazilian footballers would measure up the same, like there was just something in the water in those parts!

Remember, this was a long time before Fumaca would grace our club, so my thinking wasn’t quite as stupid as it sounds. I mean, Mira was quick and I’d just watched him score at Wembley as well, so what could possibly go wrong?

To be fair to Mirandinha, things didn’t really go immediately wrong. After an introduction to St. James’ Park before a home game versus Nottingham Forest where he decided to wear a white suit, Mira made his debut a few days later at Norwich. Watching the highlights on the Tyne Tees news the following evening, I was impressed. Mainly, this was based around his ability to run really quickly and shoot from around half a mile from goal, but to teenage Graham, this was exciting stuff. Especially when you think I’d spent the few years before this watching the likes of George Reilly, Tony Cunningham and Billy Whitehurst stomp across the turf at St. James’.

It didn’t take long for Mira to gain his own song. Older readers will remember it fondly…perhaps more fondly than you’ll remember the player, in fact. “We’ve got Mirandinha, he’s not from Argentina, he’s from Brazil, he’s f***in’ brill”. Clearly, this one had more the influence of Black Lace than The Smiths, but it was mildly funny and soon caught on. The other chant of just repeating ‘Dinha, Dinha, Dinha’ was stodgy by comparison.

Mira scored his first goals in a 2-2 draw at Old Trafford in the September. The first was a free kick from just outside the box, while the second was a header at the far post from a corner. He quickly struck up a good relationship with the young Paul Gasgoigne with Gazza often supplying the passes for Mira’s runs and Mira ignoring Gazza in favour of having yet another shot when the situation was ever reversed. The same would be said for Mira’s strike partner Paul Goddard who would often be left screaming at the Brazilian in frustration when he’d shot rather than passed to our far better placed number 9.

The unlikely friendship with Gazza also led to some quite strange English lessons and on more than one occasion Mira would answer innocent questions with a tirade of swearing, much to the young Geordie’s amusement.

In his first season Mirandinha was a relative success, even if he was easily the most greedy player I’d seen outside of school. He reminded me of the kid who brought the ball to school and would insist on playing by his rules as a result. Still, he managed to score 13 goals in 32 appearances in that first season and all seemed well. But this is Newcastle United remember…

We sold Gazza before the 88/89 season and frankly, the team fell apart. Mirandinha would only score 11 goals in a fractious season and was sold back to Palmeiras at the end of it, with the club finishing bottom of the league and being relegated back to the old Division 2. He was a more surly, unsettled and moody presence during that second season, making less and less contribution as the season went on.

In fact, my most stand out memory of Mirandinha came after one particular game, rather than during. It was an FA Cup 5th round tie against Wimbledon and I remember suffering with the usual bout of mindless optimism as I got to the ground. We’ve all been there as Toon fans. But this was our year, as far as I was concerned.

We got beat 3-1 and stunk the place out. Now those two teams didn’t like each other and so at full time, frustration got the better of Mira, who first refused to shake Andy Thorn’s hand and then – incredibly and before my very eyes – ran up behind the Don’s keeper, Dave Beasant and launched a flying kick at his arse before sprinting down to hide behind Peter Jackson who was innocently heading towards the temporary changing rooms at the back of the Leazes. To this day I still can’t quite believe what I witnessed, and it remains my abiding memory Mirandinha’s short time at Newcastle and one of my most vivid memories of any game as a Newcastle fan after 40 odd years of support.

You could argue that Mirandinha was just a case of the right club at the wrong time. He arrived at the back end of the McKeag years, not long before Sir John Hall bought the club and brought Kevin Keegan back. Maybe Keegan could have got a better tune out of our first Brazilian.

Undoubtedly, Mira possessed the raw ingredients to be a success and his record of 24 goals in 71 appearances is hardly bad. Remember these were very different times for English football and there were literally no other Brazilians or even Portuguese speakers in the squad. In fact if I remember rightly, when he signed he was the only foreign player on the books. The change of culture alone would have been incredibly difficult to deal with, let alone the difference weather!

As it was though, Mirandinha was an experiment that didn’t quite work and most likely an attempt by the board to bring in a cheap replacement for Beardsley, who had gone to Liverpool for three times as much as Mira cost. Mira was lightening quick, strong and very direct; equal measures edge of the seat excitement and tearing your hair out in frustration. But for a while he was the darling of St. James’ Park. Definitely a bit of a cult hero.

Footnote: While researching this I came across Mirandinha’s managerial record and was so astounded by what I found that I thought I had to share. Having played for 12 clubs, including Palmeiras on 3 separate occasions he would then go on to manage a total of 20 clubs in both his native Brazil but also Saudi Arabia, Malaysia and Sudan. Staggering. From learning English from Gazza to managing a club in the Sudanese Premier League; amazing when you think about it!

Gallowgate Cult Heroes: Number 5 Barry Venison

It’s still quite rare for a player to cross the divide between black and white and red and white. In my lifetime there haven’t been that many and even if we go right back in time, a player who played for both is usually rare enough to grab a bit of attention. However, it’s even more rare for one of these moves to be deemed a success. Just ask Lee Clark or Michael Chopra!

Arguably one of the biggest successes in playing for both Newcastle and Sunderland would be Barry Venison who was adored during his time at both clubs.

Venison arrived at Newcastle from Liverpool in a £295,000 deal. We were in the second tier of English football, having just escaped relegation to Division 3 at the end of the previous season under Kevin Keegan. King Kev was now assembling a squad for a promotion challenge, with the Premiership (now the Premier League) only a year old. Venners would become a key component in that Championship winning season.

Barry had, of course, started his career at Sunderland in 1981. He would become their captain at just age 20, eventually playing a total of 205 times and becoming the youngest player to captain a side at Wembley when our lovely neighbours lost the 1985 Milk Cup. He would leave for the all conquering Liverpool side of the 80s in 1986 in a £200,000 deal and stay there for 6 years before he joined us.

Venison brought much needed big game experience and guile to a squad that, while it was being overhauled, still contained many of the squad from the previous almost disastrous campaign. The likes of Lee Clark, Robbie Elliot and Steve Howey would learn a lot from Venners and his influence would be felt by incoming future superstars like Rob Lee and Andy Cole too. So while Brian Kilcline would start the season as captain, Venison was very much the power behind the throne and would eventually take the captaincy when Killer was out of the side. A latter day Kieran Trippier, if you will. Just with bigger hair.

Undoubtedly, part of Venison’s appeal was his sense of ‘style’. He was no ordinary everyday footballer with his long, flowing blonde locks and unique fashion sense. He was the closest thing we’d get to Miami Vice on Tyneside and some of his choices were legendary. He embraced bleached bootcut jeans and at times even paired them with cowboy boots, while on his wedding day he wore a pink suit, looking every inch the Don Johnson lookalike and outshining his bride at the same time!

A tough tackling, hard running overlapping right back he quickly became a firm favourite with our fans. And although he would only ever score one goal for the club, he was always at the front of the queue when celebrating other people’s goals. Barry simply loved the celebrations and could regularly be found piling in on top of those shaking their fists at the crowd!

After winning the Division One championship, Venners continued as a regular at right back in the team that brought European football back to St. James’ Park for the ’94/95 season. However, that would be the season where his partying pushed one too many of Keegan’s buttons and he was stripped of the captaincy. He would also lose his spot in the team at right back after Marc Hottiger was brought in.

However, Venison was then reborn, converted to a holding midfielder by Keegan. He took to the position like a duck to water as well and was called up by England in the same season.

Barry Venison was what we might call a character. Someone who threw himself into life as a footballer and who – in terms of the modern day footballer – it could be argued, very much made the most of his slightly limited ability. He would move on to Galatasaray at the end of the ’94/’95 season but would live long in the memory of many a Mag. A cross between some kind of catalogue model and a slightly effeminate Viking, Barry more than successfully crossed the divide and his red and white background was never held against him.

NUFC – We can’t do right for doing wrong?

Newcastle United fans, eh? What are we like? With our bloody flags, our songs and our attempts to support our team and help them to win football matches. But that’s not all. What about the club and the team? Buying success, celebrating goals and wins and inventing ‘shithousery’ being the tip of the iceberg. Who do we think we are, eh?

Having supported Newcastle United for over 40 years, I can’t say that we’ve always been popular. The Keegan years aside when we were everyone’s second team, apparently, someone’s always had a problem with Newcastle United. Oddly enough, that problem has grown exponentially over the last two years…I can’t think why.

Do I care what fans of other clubs think? No, of course not. I’m very much with Eddie Howe on this one; we’re not here to be popular, we’re here to compete.

That said, I do find the amount of complaints about us and the amount of moaning from other fans, really, really funny. So, I thought I’d go through a few things that spring to mind, especially as the attention on us seems to have ramped up significantly this season.

Eddie Howe is the master protagonist in all of this. As soon as he joined the club in November 2021, he set about winding up fans of other clubs. And how did he do it? The Lap of Appreciation. Win, lose or draw, our team and staff would stay on the pitch and walk round clapping. Clapping! I mean, straight away you can see how that would irk fans of other clubs. Who does he think he is getting 30 odd men and women to amble round a load of grass clapping at folk? God forbid, if I supported anyone else I’d be understandably livid at all that clapping!

The main problem here, according to fans of other clubs is that we haven’t won a trophy. So, of course we’re not allowed to celebrate anything, ever. In fact it’s possible that within a few months the Premier League will ask clubs to vote on whether clubs in black and white stripes can celebrate goals. Maybe, we can even expect a subsection about getting excited or something like that. That’s before we even get onto the crowd roaring at a tackle being made or a player enjoying the same, which has a seismic influence on the mood of other fans. More evidence of what a small club we are, apparently…

The point in all of this – and I truly hope we all got the sarcasm – is that it’s absolutely ridiculous and more than just a little bit pathetic. Two years of whingeing, moaning, bleating on and the crying of gallons of salty tears and all because what was once dubbed ‘a wee club in the north’ are challenging the status quo again. But the ridiculousness doesn’t stop there.

Probably most famously, Eddie then brought in the celebration photo. That’s right, a photo of people celebrating! So, when we win a match the whole squad, staff and even injured players have a photo in the dressing room. Personally, I love it. It’s a brilliant illustration of the spirit and the togetherness in the squad and coming after watching teams with fractured dressing rooms and very little spirit for years and years, it’s a welcome addition to the way we do things.

Other fans loathe that photo, which is hilarious! When we’ve won, social media is just a wonderful illustration of how much we’ve upset what some fans see as being the natural order of things. And of course, it was even funnier when Jason Tindall organised the squad and staff into formation in front of the away fans at the end of our derby win at the Stadium of Shite recently. The irony of being told that we showed a lack of respect is amazing, given the neanderthal taunts of the opposition over the years!

The re-birth of Wor Flags was something else that got on the nerves of non Mags. While it only requires possession of a pair of functioning eyes to admire the sheer brilliance of some of the displays, apparently if you don’t support Newcastle, they’re anything from ‘pathetic’ to ’embarrassing’. Not as embarrassing as the 17 grand Tunnocks appreciation display that we were subjected to at the weekend, mind. But again, we’re in the wrong for supporting our team, especially if you believe the old opposition fan favourite that it’s all funded by the Saudis anyway, which is obviously bollocks. But why let the truth get in the way of your salty tears and another ridiculous conspiracy theory?

As well as that we’ve also invented something called ‘shithousery’. Previously known as ‘game management’ when certain other clubs did it, it’s been rebranded seemingly because we did it better. Fans of Premier League clubs have been up in arms in stadiums, online and on radio talk ins about how we’re ruining the game with our two balls on the pitch shenanigans and conveniently faked injuries. And the mention of Jason Tindall is like a red rag to a bull!

It’s been amusing to watch the sheer amount of people tearing their hair out over the last couple of years and it’s particularly hilarious to watch the complaints from the so called ‘Big 6’. They really don’t like any attempt to level the playing field, do they?

One of the funniest things I’ve read from opposition fans though, is the one about 5.30 kick offs on a Saturday night. If you haven’t heard it, you’ll love it. The conspiracy theory goes that we get given this kick off time ‘every week’ meaning that we’re on TV. And of course, the reason for that is because it’s prime time in Saudi Arabia, meaning that our legions of fans out there and more appropriately, our ownership can watch the games. This is of course because our owners are bribing Sky…

The mind boggles! No thought to the fact that it actually puts our travelling support out, just a blind belief that kicking off at 5.30 on a Saturday somehow gives us an ill gotten advantage. Once again, it’s good to see we’re at the forefront of so many people’s minds, even if literally none of it makes any sense whatsoever. God forbid that our fans sing and cheers the lads on at those games. And Heaven help anyone who brings a bloody flag!

And then we had the sheer temerity to qualify for a place in the Champions League. Again, there was outrage. The Champions League, it seems was a closed shop where only the clubs who wanted to leave it and the Premier League to form their own EuroMegaSuperDoopa league were allowed to play and make money from. A strange logic, but one that we should have accepted, apparently. Thus, the fume was very much real when poor old Liverpool could only finish in 5th and super club Spurs only just made the top 10.

And so, when the Champions League draw was made and we ended up in our ‘Group of Death’ it must’ve felt like Christmas morning in certain parts of the country! The come down after we hammered PSG on the second matchday would have really, really hurt though! Apparently, us being in the competition was futile and our place would have been much better filled by a ‘big club’. Well, it’s hard to see how any of those ‘big clubs’ other than Man City would have coped a great deal better in the group we’ve got. And the fact that we were still in with a chance of qualifying for the next stage of the competition until the last seconds of the group stage is huge and it’s the kind of thing that would have been eating away at fans of certain clubs. It’s been borne out by the reaction to us going out of the competition. It’s funny how we matter so much!

The last moan, and one of the funniest, is the one that seems to suggest that we’ve found a way to influence the PGMOL and VAR officials. It’s an idea that’s been floated more or less every time we’ve got a decision, but the home game against Arsenal caused a little bit of a stir to say the least. I won’t go too far into it, but our winning goal was checked, checked and checked again and still ruled legitimate. They even reviewed the whole thing independently a couple of days later and it was still a goal.

None of this stopped the crying though, with yet more allegations about our owners having some mysterious influence over officials. Mikel Arteta also went into meltdown not once but twice which was pretty hysterical. I must admit, this didn’t really bother me. I could kind of see the point. If that goal had been given against us, I’d have questioned it as well. I wouldn’t have blamed Arsenal’s ownership or fans though. Sadly, they’re probably still banging on about it even as I type.

So what happened next – 4 weeks on from that game and goal – was pretty funny, really. And predictable, I suppose. When we were on the the wrong end of a VAR shocker with the PSG penalty there was more vitriol, desperation and petty jealousy. The word that seemed to be most prevalent on social media was karma. Now karma is a concept I have a bit of belief in, as it goes. But the next morning, when the assistant VAR who recommended that the ref go to the screen was stood down from his next game and then UEFA clarified and updated the handball rule, it was just obvious that it had been a shocking decision against us. Less karma, more drama it seemed.

It’s been a funny old couple of years as a Toon fan. No one likes us, but as the song goes, we don’t care. This was always going to be the way. Having been bought by an organisation worth hundreds of billions, the green eyed monster was bound to surface at some point. It was probably just a bit quicker than any of us might have expected and definitely from lots of unexpected fanbases. I mean, Crystal Palace? Who knew they were such human rights activists? And let’s not get started on our friends down the road and their sudden penchant for shouting about blood on people’s hands.

For such a ‘small club’, we’ve come a long way in a very short space of time, eh?

Gallowgate Cult Heroes; Number 4 Micky Quinn

If you’re a Newcastle United fan, it’s almost certain that you’ll love a number 9. We’ve been brought up on them. For the older generation, we would have been told stories of Jackie Milburn, Hughie Gallagher and Len White. Some of us might even have been lucky enough to watch the great Supermac in the 70s. The younger generation could point to the brilliance of the likes of Cole, Ferdinand, Shearer and even Callum Wilson.

No one can argue that we’ve had a glut of quality strikers to have idolised over the years. Even when you move away from the obvious, you’ll still find some excellent strikers who’ve left their mark on Tyneside. Micky Quinn is definitely one of those names and to this day holds cult status in Newcastle.

Quinn was signed from Portsmouth at a turbulent time for the club. Arriving in July 1989 for £680,000, he was joining a fractured club. Many supporters were boycotting the club and protesting against the board of the time which was led by one of the most unpopular chairmen of my lifetime in Gordon McKeag. So while Quinn jumped at the chance to join the Toon, he certainly wasn’t popular from the off. Quinn himself famously tells a story of seeing the protests as he walked through the city and bearing witness to a banner that asked ‘Who the f**k is Mick Quinn?’

I was well aware of who he was as the kind of geeky kid who always kept track of the top scorers in every division, so Quinny’s signing excited me and was a rare piece of good news at a time when I could feel myself drifting away from the club and its under-ambitious ownership. As well as being a Bob Carolgees lookalike, Quinny was known for being a little on the larger side and in truth wasn’t the perfect physical specimen, but as he’d say later on in his career, he was the fastest you’d find over the first yard!

My cousin was part of the supporter boycott and I was torn between getting a ticket for the first game of the season or standing outside St. James’ Park like he did and trying to persuade people to stay away and put pressure on the board. Thankfully, I went in that day.

Quinny’s debut is the stuff of modern NUFC folklore. In front of just over 24,000 fans, he scored four goals in a 5-2 win against promotion favourites Leeds United. By the end of the game, no one was asking who he was anymore and Quinny quickly became a crowd favourite. Having stood watching the likes of Frank Pingel, Mirandinha and Rob Macdonald struggle to score goals in the previous season, I was thrilled that we had such a number 9 as Micky Quinn and for many others he would become a hero just based on that game alone.

Quinny scored 34 goals in that first season, cementing his place in the history of the club and also in the hearts of many a supporter of a certain age. After 4 on debut he then went on to score in each of the next 4 games and he simply kept on scoring all season. His record for that season – 34 in 53 games has him in 5th place for the most goals scored in a season at NUFC. I was 18 at the time and the partnership between Quinny and Mark McGhee that season remains one of my favourites of all time.

In his second season Quinny scored 20 goals, but the team finished 11th in the old 2nd division and the writing was on the wall for manager Ossie Ardiles. The season that followed was the now infamous and almost disastrous one that ended with Kevin Keegan coming in as manager and somehow managing to save us from the drop. Quinn scored 10 that year but was eclipsed by midfielder Gavin Peacock who got 21 and it would become obvious that the manager didn’t really fancy our cult hero.

During that amazing first season in ’89-’90 I was lucky enough to meet Micky. He was part of a group of Newcastle players who were taking part in a charity cricket match at a local cricket club in Swalwell. Me and a couple of mates went along and skulked around on the boundary, waiting to try and grab a word with our heroes. I was 17 and still very much in awe of these people who I watched week in week out.

Having managed to get an autograph from Kevin Brock, we waited and waited for Quinny and when he was fielding right by the rope we grabbed our opportunity. He signed my old green and yellow striped away top and was just a genuinely nice bloke. He’d taken a flying catch moments before and was full of himself, as you would be!

Another, rather different memory of Quinny would be from a couple of seasons later and the 91-92 season. It was away at Sunderland and the infamous Liam O’Brien over the wall game. Quinny was actually injured and on crutches at the time but I have a vivid memory of him approaching the way fans in the Roker End at the end of the game, wildly waving his crutches around and celebrating. We’d had a few crucial injuries going into the game and so the draw was actually a great result and Micky, like the whole away end, was ecstatic. He knew just what the club meant to the fans!

To those of us who followed Newcastle United around the country in the late 80s and early 90s, Mick Quinn was a legend. When he wasn’t banging in the goals he could invariably be found ‘de-stressing’ in the local nightclubs and was a big fan of the Tuxedo Princess! A lot of that side of things is detailed in his excellent autobiography ‘Who At All The Pies’, which is a must read if Quinny is a new name to you.

In all, Quinny scored 63 goals in 126 appearances for the club and always gave everything. He embraced the weight of that number 9 shirt and did it proud, starting with that incredible debut. He was eventually sold to Coventry City where he would go on to gain cult hero status with their fans too. Newcastle United moved on in style when he was sold, with Kevin Keegan bringing in Andy Cole as we gained promotion. A lot of us fans will never forget Micky Quinn though!

Gallowgate Cult Heroes; Number 3 Imre Varadi

When I first started writing this series, I wondered how far back I’d be able to go. I’m trying to write more about players that I actually saw play, rather than just delving into the history books – and Wikipedia – and providing you with a list of stats. So, in essence I’m restricting myself to going back as far as the late 70s at best and even then, my memory won’t always be reliable.

The third player in the series is one that I only just remember, as well as being one of my first ever black and white heroes.

Imre Varadi was signed, with not a great deal of fanfare from Everton in the summer of 1981. A 22-year-old Londoner, with a Hungarian/Italian background, he was brought in by manager Arthur Cox to help solve what had become a major goalscoring problem. With the previous season’s strikers – the likes of Bobby Shinton, Alan Shoulder, Mick Harford and a young Chris Waddle – struggling to find the net, Varadi faced a challenge. However, he must have felt that he couldn’t really fail, given that the previous season’s top scorer had been Shinton with 7 goals. And so, a memorable, but brief chapter began.

Newcastle were languishing in Division 2 (now the Championship) at the time but in his first season (81/82) Imre scored a commendable 20 goals in 47 appearances. However, it took him a while to actually find the net. When he did eventually did though it was spectacular as he bagged a hat-trick in a 0-4 away win at Cardiff. Suddenly, things were beginning to click into place. In the next game, this time at home to Derby he scored a brace in a 3-0 home win.

Varadi had electric pace, an eye for goal and was more than capable of an eye-catching piece of skill. He was unpredictable and brave, doing the number 9 shirt proud. It was easy to see why a success starved Gallowgate would take to him so quickly. But things were about to change on Tyneside.

In the summer of 1982 Newcastle United grabbed the football world’s attention by signing the England captain Kevin Keegan from Southampton. How we’d managed to sign the twice Ballon D’or winner is anyone’s guess, but we did and he would go on to help change the history of the club. It was the beginning of the end of Varadi though.

The season started well, with Varadi providing the assist for Keegan’s winning goal in the first game of the season at home to QPR. In goalscoring terms though he made a slow start. While strike partner Keegan scored 3 goals in his first three games, Varadi didn’t score until the sixth week of the season.

However, by the end of the season he had scored 22 goals in 43 appearances and was again a roaring success as he finished as top scorer. Keegan himself only made 16 league appearances, scoring 21 goals and was rightly idolised. And this was possibly what would cost Varadi. Newcastle, having finished 5th that season went all out for promotion the next, signing John Ryan for a then club record fee of £250k, David Mills and a 22-year-old called Peter Beardsley in the summer with Imre being sold to Sheffield Wednesday for £180k.

I remember rumours about Varadi’s relationship with Keegan at the time and since then have heard the same type of things mentioned time and again in relation to his departure, but I really wouldn’t know. Whatever the reason, it seemed a strange move to get rid of the top scorer of the previous two seasons. Varadi scored goals and was popular with the fans and yet was still sacrificed to a rival. Mind you, Keegan would do the same himself as manager, years later, with Andy Cole, ending up explaining himself to confused and angry fans on the steps of the Milburn stand.

Imre Varadi was the first number 9 that really captured my imagination. I wasn’t old enough to remember Supermac and there’d been precious little else to grab on to during my fledgling years as a Toon supporter. I remember being enamored by Peter Withe, but even then I was only 6! My other favourite player had been midfielder Micky Burns, but there was nothing that excited me as much as Varadi did when he signed. I knew nothing of him, but that first hat-trick had me hooked! I’d fallen in love with a club that felt like it gave precious little back, but when Varadi got the ball and ran it felt like there was a bit more of a point being there.

With 42 goals in 90 games, Imre Varadi had a decent strike rate and was the kind of striker that excited the fans. But with a young Chris Waddle coming through and Peter Beardsley set to make an amazing impact with Kevin Keegan, maybe letting him go was the correct decision. By the end of his career he’d become very much a journeyman pro, ending up with 17 clubs in all, so perhaps his two years with us was par for the course.

In recent interviews, Varadi has expressed great love for his time with Newcastle and for a couple of years, there were a fair few of us who loved him right back. But cult hero or not, nobody could really compete with King Kev, could they?

Gallowgate Cult Heroes; Number 2 Brian Kilcline

Signing a player who’s better known as ‘Killer’ sounds like the kind of thing you’d only experience via the pages of a 1970s comic. And in many ways, Brian ‘Killer’ Kilcline’s story would go on to feel like pure fiction.

Brian Kilcline was Kevin Keegan’s first signing in his first spell as Newcastle manager. A typical Keegan singing? No, but in many ways Killer was one of the most important signings the club ever made. He gave a team, that had previously cowered at the first scent of a problem, a spine and was one of the major reasons that the club avoided relegation in the season that he joined. Make no doubt about it, Newcastle United were in deep trouble and in grave danger of tumbling into Division 3 (League One now). Brian Kilcline was Keegan’s first port of call in order to make sure that didn’t happen.

Signed from Oldham in 1992, Kilcline was immediately made club captain. Having previously captained Coventry to an FA Cup win in 1987, he had valuable experience to add to a dressing room that was a mixture of underachieving journeymen and raw kids. Killer was 29 when he signed and was charged with the business of giving the squad a sense of belief as well as a metaphorical kick up the backside. At the time our squad included such luminaries as Ray Ranson, Mark Stimson, Peter Garland and Archie Gourlay, but previous manager, Ossie Ardiles, had put all his faith in youth and players such as Lee Clark, Steve Watson, Lee Makel and Robbie Elliot. While we were playing some pretty football, we just weren’t winning games and were sinking fast. I remember week in, week out having that sinking feeling that we couldn’t possibly survive. Then, along came Keegan and Killer!

Brian made his Newcastle debut in a 1-1 home draw against Barnsley, replacing Darren Bradshaw in the starting line up after the team were beaten 3-1 away at Blackburn. Newcastle were stuck in 22nd place in the division at this point. Seven days later, with Killer again in the side, we recorded a 0-1 away victory at Port Vale and moved up to 19th.

From there we’d go on picking up points so that by the time we’d beaten Sunderland 1-0 at home at the end of March we were sitting in 17th place and looking far more comfortable with Killer marshalling the defence.

However, 5 successive defeats followed, with Kilcline sidelined through injury for three of them and Newcastle plunged back into trouble.

Ultimately, the side did enough to stay up with successive victories against Portsmouth and Leicester and Kilcline’s place in history was already assured. Those two games will go down in club history and while the home game v Pompey will always be associated with David Kelly’s late winner, it was Killer’s defence that kept a rare clean sheet that day. Similarly, the game away at Leicester will be remembered mainly for the performances of players like Kelly, again, and Gavin Peacock, as well as a pitch invasion by home fans, but Killer’s influence that day cannot be underestimated as Newcastle held their nerve enough to get over the line in one of the most dramatic games I’ve even witnessed as a Newcastle fan. Forget winning games in the Champions League, this was like the Alamo (it was a battle, look it up, kids).

While Killer will be remembered as the man who Keegan trusted to guide the club to safety during one of the darkest periods in its history, it shouldn’t be forgotten that the very next season he captained the team to promotion. Keegan famously referred to him as “the most important signing I ever made for the club” and instantly secured Killer’s status as a true legend for Newcastle United. However, he was to start only one game for us in the Premier League and moved on to Swindon soon after. There, Killer made 10 appearances in the Premier League, but left for Mansfield Town in 1995 amid suggestions of a falling out with the Swindon manager Steve McMahon.

Later in his career Killer began to explore his more imaginative side, living for a while on a narrow boat, before spending his time travelling the world with wife Lynn once he’d retired. Nowadays, Brian lives in rural Holmfirth in Yorkshire where he spends time managing rental properties and renovating houses. In the recent past he has still turned out for Newcastle legends teams too.

Although he only spent a short amount of time on Tyneside, Killer was undoubtedly a hero for Newcastle. Not only did he help to save the club from a disastrous relegation to League 1, but he led the side to the promised land of the Premier League a year later too. In doing so he had a huge influence, not just on the future of the club itself, but also on a group of young players such as Lee Clark, Steve Watson, Robbie Elliot and Allan Nielson, players who would go on to have a bright future with the club.

Brian Kilcline; looked like a Viking, played with grit, passion and determination, led like a legend.

Running: The Morley 10k, 2023.

Last Sunday, the 8th October saw the second ever Morley 10k race. It marked a quite significant date for me personally too though, as it was almost 11 months since I had the heart surgery to have my pacemaker fitted.

It’s been something of an eventful (almost) year. Sadly more downs than ups too, but all of that has been well documented in other blog posts throughout the last 11 months. However, when I was in hospital I made a vow that I’d complete at least three 10k races by the time my one year pacemaker anniversary came around. Sunday was the third and it was significant because it had also been the last one I’d done before everything went wrong for me in October and November of last year. Here’s how it went.

I felt sick with nerves as I stood on the start line. My family were a only few metres away on the pavement and on more than one occasion it crossed my mind to go and join them and tell them that I couldn’t do the race. People felt too close, it was too warm and the hill that we were starting on looked as daunting as hell, even though I’d ran it countless times before. The day before I’d been genuinely excited about it, but now, around an hour and 10km away from the finish line almost everything was telling me just to walk home.

Start lines of races can be funny things for me. Sometimes, I stand there feeling genuinely intimidated. Everyone seems fitter and younger than me. They’ve got much better trainers. And when I’m feeling particularly sorry for myself, none of them have health problems like me, either. Stupid really, but that’s how it can be. On other occasions, you get the feeling that everyone wants everyone else to have the race of their life. The excitement is palpable and the atmosphere is infectiously positive.

Thankfully though, I talked myself out of any silly decisions and got myself across the start line bang on 9am!

It’s a hilly course and while I won’t talk you through every step, there’s a lot to talk about and almost all of it involves running. Firstly, quite a few of the town came out to show their appreciation of the nine hundred and odd of us who thought it was a good idea to be up and running so early on a Sunday morning. Perhaps they were a bit bewildered by it all and who could blame them, but I really hope that the event grows and grows and becomes a staple for both runners and residents, because it was genuinely lovely to see people out cheering us on and from a personal point of view, it’s a real boost. I still don’t believe the stewards who shout out stuff like, ‘You’re looking good!’ as I pass, but by God their positivity helps! For the record though, I generally look like a tall, skinny bloke whose head has been replaced by a sweaty red balloon when I’m running, so cheers to anyone who puts a positive spin on that!

On Sunday, it quickly became apparent that my legs weren’t feeling too powerful. If you’ve seen them, you’ll know why! But I’d put the training in; plenty of runs, lots of hills, lots of 10ks and lots of other exercise. So, it was a bit of a puzzle, but I just put it down to my mood more than anything else and tried to relax as best I could.

Having got through the first long climb, we turned right and ran through Morley town centre and then down the hill towards Morley Bottoms. The flat and the downhill was much appreciated and gave me the chance to gather my thoughts a little bit, as well as picking up a little bit of pace. By the time we came to another long climb I was well into my running and it felt like I was coping well. It helps knowing the route so well, although I hadn’t ran it this year in preparation, but I’d had plenty of practice at hills as it can feel like that’s all Morley is at times!

Once we’d climbed said hill it was time to double back on ourselves and the race takes to the other side of the road and back down again. By this point several of the leaders had long since passed us as well as probably a couple of hundred others who all looked like they were coping better than me! I opened my stride a bit on the downhill section and, realising that we had at least a mile of downhill or flat sections, decided that it was time to start finding a bit of pace. Halfway back down the hill I spotted something on the other side, still climbing the hill that spurred me on even more – someone running in a T-Rex suit! Dodgy heart or not, I was not being caught by that!

I knew that picking up the pace could be a risky strategy though. I didn’t feel quite right and was wary of simply running out of steam by the end when, surprise surprise, you head up a really steep incline to the finish. That said, I knew my family would be waiting anxiously at the end of this section, given my health issues and so I felt it was better to get to them sooner rather than later.

Morley Bottoms on race day is fantastic. Just a wall of noise and smiling faces. It felt great to run through and although I couldn’t see my family for a while, I spotted them eventually and gave them the thumbs up as I actually wasn’t feeling too bad. Shortly after passing them was the halfway point and knowing the route, it felt like the end was almost in sight.

My plan from the start was to try and run around 55 minutes, but it wasn’t long before the pacer had passed me. However, by the time we’d got to around 4 and a half miles I’d caught him again. Sadly, as we began to climb another hill, I lost him once more! I stayed optimistic by reminding myself that the T-Rex still hadn’t caught me though!

By the time I got to Morley Bottoms for the second time and almost the finish, the place seemed to have got even louder and more enthusiastic. I was feeling genuinely sick though, so the noise and the fact that a couple of people – cheers Steve and the lass that I didn’t recognise! – called out my name, which again was a timely boost. I was almost there.

The hill up from Morley Bottoms turned into my own personal Everest! It’s so steep! Virtually all strength drained away from my legs straight away and it was a case of just keeping moving. I almost convinced myself to stop and walk, but kept going as there was so much encouragement and I was utterly relieved to reach the point where it evens out a bit.

As we passed the town hall I heard my family before I saw them and again it provided a timely boost. Bizarrely, it prompted a sprint finish from me too, something I didn’t realise I had in my locker any more at my age. The heart didn’t matter, the tired legs and aching body were of no concern and by the time I crossed the line I was catching the few people in front of my having gone past one or two in the last hundred yards!

I thought I’d be emotional, but wasn’t. I was just elated. The time wasn’t quite what I wanted, but it wasn’t half bad for a bloke with a dodgy heart and pipe cleaners for legs. And anyway, when everyone looks so pleased and the whole town is out cheering you on, it’s kind of difficult to start crying in front of the post office!

So clutching my medal and my bag of sweets – they’d ran out of water, apparently – I scanned the crowd until I found my family again, reassured the kids I was ok, had some photos taken and then we all wandered off happily back down the inevitable hill to go home.

Big thanks to Morley Running Club for everything they do to put this brilliant event together. Same time next year?

Gallowgate Cult Heroes – Number 1; John Burridge.

There’s an old saying that always gets trotted out when talking about what we’ll politely call ‘journeymen’ footballers. You know the one, ‘more clubs than Jack Nicklaus’. Funny eh? See what they did there? Anyway, the first player I’m going to look at kind of sums up exactly why that old saying exists as he had more clubs than the pro shop at St. Andrews, let alone Jack Nicklaus! My first Gallowgate Cult Hero is goalkeeper John Burridge.

Universally known as ‘Budgie’, John Burridge signed for Newcastle from Southampton in July 1989, leaving almost 2 years later. To this day, he remains the only player I’ve ever turned up specifically early to watch warm up! But more of that later.

Burridge started his league career with Workington Town in 1969, when they were still a league club, before moving on to Blackpool a couple of years later. He then moved around a lot of clubs including, Aston Villa, Crystal Palace, QPR, Wolves and Sheffield United. By the time he’d signed for us he was 38 years old and had been playing for 20 years and had 10 clubs. Newcastle were in the old 2nd division or the Championship, as it’s now known and Burridge had come in alongside other new signings like Micky Quinn and Mark McGhee. Hopes were high for a possible promotion campaign.

Hopes, however, were ultimately dashed and having failed to gain automatic promotion Newcastle famously crashed out in the semi finals of the play offs to the old enemy, Sunderland. In the first leg of the semi, we played away at the old Roker Park and Burridge had his finest cult hero moments in black and white, diving down to his right to save a late Paul Hardyman penalty. But the drama didn’t end there as Hardyman then ran to where Budgie was lying, clutching the ball, and kicked him square in the head! He was immediately sent off, but Budgie was rightly raging!

Despite skiving school and standing in a very early morning queue, I remember that I couldn’t get tickets for that away leg – you see, ticketing isn’t just a modern day problem! However, we managed to get tickets for a beam back of the game at Whitley Bay Ice Rink of all places. In the hysteria following Budgie’s save, I missed the kick in the head entirely and remember just being delighted at the sending off, but completely in the dark as to why Budgie looked like he wanted to kill someone!

Burridge was a maker of spectacular saves, starting with one in the first minute of his debut against Reading when flew across the goal to tip an early header over the bar. So, a good shot stopper in today’s language. He possessed a confidence like no Newcastle goalkeeper I’d seen before too. But with that confidence came many rushes of blood to the head and while Burridge was a keeper who liked to command his area, there were a few terrible errors in there too.

As I said earlier, I quite liked getting to home games early in Burridge’s time, just to watch his warm ups. I was 17 at the time and had never witnessed anything like it! Burridge, who described himself as “a clean living lad” was a big advocate of being in the best condition, fitness wise. If I remember rightly he practised yoga, which was something I hadn’t even heard of in those days! But his warm ups were something else. While others would just be pinging footballs around the place, Budgie would be like a contortionist, stretching himself into ever more painful looking positions, before walking on his hands, one armed push ups or doing something that just looked like he was dancing really, rather than warming up. Follow the link below and you’ll see what I mean. It’s from his Palace days, but he was still warming up in a similar fashion when he played for us.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BRulE9858eE

Speaking about his fitness and what was needed to play in goal, he once told a reporter, “You’re not a football player, you’re a handball gymnast”. He was a specialist goalkeeping coach at the time and was still making occasional appearances on the bench, despite being 43 by this time.

Another Budgie tale that sticks out for me was when the Toon visited Elland Road to play Leeds in that heartbreaking ’89-’90 season. Leeds would eventually go on to take the title, but we’d beaten them 5-2 on the opening game of the season, so the home team were determined to flex their muscles that day. To that end, as the Toon players walked into Elland Road legend has it that they were greeted by the sight and sound of Vinnie Jones screaming and bench pressing in a weird attempt to intimidate our boys. Budgie’s response was to add 10 kilos to each side of the weights and quickly do ten reps, before telling Jones, “That’s how you do it

By the time Kevin Keegan arrived as manager in 1992 Burridge had departed, heading to Scotland to play for Hibs. He briefly rejoined the club in 1994 as a back up keeper and goalkeeping coach, but despite declaring his loyalty to Keegan in typical Budgie fashion – “I would give the guy my eyes!” – he was soon on the move again.

In all, Burridge had 29 clubs, 19 of which were in the football league. He continued to be a colourful character wherever he went and still holds the record for being the oldest Premier League player of all time. He was 43 years and 162 days old when he played for Manchester City against QPR in May 1995. If my memory serves me rightly, he even played against us in that same season and had an absolute blinder, keeping a clean sheet. Later, whilst player manager of Blyth Spartans Budgie was convicted and fined for selling fake leisure wear and just last year, aged 70, he played in a friendly for Hibs. He even claimed not to be retired in a recent interview.

Perhaps the best Burridge story that I could find though, was the one where Budgie played a whole game for Wolves in a Superman outfit against us in the ’82-’83 season, after making a £100 bet with Kevin Keegan that he’d do it.

Clearly, Budgie was a one off and the type of character that has drifted out of the game in recent years, but it was always a pleasure to watch him play for Newcastle United!