Dare to dream
Crisp, clear skies stretched above me, with the sunshine gently warming the way, while shadows embraced the structures and the diverse people wandering through the city streets. It’s a sign, surely, right? Sipping on my third coffee of the morning, I felt a familiar jolt of caffeine coursing through my veins as I anxiously checked my bag for the fourth time.
I meticulously ensured that my ticket, crucial for the journey ahead, was still secure in my pocket—just like I had checked it for the hundredth time by now. A mix of slight anxiety and warm excitement bubbled inside me, heightening my anticipation for the weekend ahead. “Shall I drop you off at the station now?”
“No,” I replied, perhaps a bit too quickly, “it’s far too early for that.” As I meticulously checked through my belongings again, I turned to sense that I was not just spiraling in my own head within the confines of the house; I could genuinely feel the balance of the moment shifting. “You know that offer of dropping me off?” I mused. “Yeah, I think I’m ready now.”
The short, winding drive through the picturesque Northumberland B roads to an isolated station felt like a small eternity. The silence enveloping the car was thick, my thoughts swirling in my head like leaves caught in a gentle breeze. It’s been approximately 50 years following this beloved club, filled with a myriad of unforgettable moments.
Some lines I have cherished have long been forgotten, and a few people have disappointingly failed to show up over the years. Surely, we’re due for something remarkable—what if we actually achieve it? What if we fall short in some way? As I reminded myself to have a nice time, I suddenly realized, oh, we are finally here. Yes, thanks very much, were the words I uttered as I exited the car, trying to shake off the jitters.
A brief 19 minutes later, I arrived at Newcastle Central Station, where the cacophony of noise and vibrant energy hit me like a wave. I stood on the platform, absorbing the same sense of anticipation and anxiety shared by the hordes of people around me. Not just me then, I thought—everyone appears to be feeling this way. Eager to channel my excitement, I embarked on a short walk, beginning to capture photographs and B-roll footage of the lively events unfolding around me, documenting the moment.
Herds of enthusiastic supporters linked together like a tightly-knit community, generations of families united in their journey, all sharing the same singular goal. The profound hope of witnessing Newcastle United secure its first domestic cup victory in an astonishing 70 years filled the air with palpable excitement.
Engaging with fellow fans on the train journey down proved to be a rich tapestry of stories and perspectives, with individuals exhibiting varying degrees of intoxication and lively debate. Each person carried unique feelings and emotions, with some poignantly sharing tales of personal loss during that long stretch of 70 years and expressing deep love and affection for those who had passed on, individuals who would have relished being present to witness this monumental occasion.
There exists a chance, albeit a small glimmer of hope, as the common belief resonated among the crowd that in order to seize that chance, the team needed to show up with unwavering determination; they needed to take the fight to Liverpool and maintain their relentless spirit throughout. "There’s no shame in getting beat by a great team," one passionate supporter declared in the final carriage, echoing the sentiments that at least a hundred more people on that bustling train had fervently expressed before him.
Reports coming in from friends already in the city, Covent Garden was full, an estimated twenty thousand people already there, celebrating and enjoying the day, a look at my phone confirmed it was 2.12pm.
Visiting London this time as a tourist felt slightly odd, having enjoyed a large portion of my life in the capital via work and my personal life, this time it felt weirdly unfamiliar. A short while later, I am checked in, showered and changed and heading to meet friends, choosing to avoid Covent Garden we stayed up the west side and enjoyed a meal with some drinks and sat chatting about the day ahead of us and what it meant.
Surprisingly frank conversations, sprinkled with emotion allowed me to experience issues friends had never let on, how over the years the mental toll of travel, hope and expectation had drained them, how at times it had bordered on depression, had ruined relationships and caused division, one estimating that in his lifecycle to date the expense of pursuing this dream must have cost in excess of £100,000.
We all stopped still when that statement fell, we all also asked the waiting staff for pencils or pens and some paper and we all started scribbling rough notes and sums to accompany them, lets say that for some around that table, the sums that are disclosed in London stay in London.
To offer a comparison on this, you gamers and gaming live streamers reading this, that bit of tech you bought that was cheaper than your significant other thinks! Yes that’s the same principle here.
Sunday arrived with an unexpected swiftness; before I knew it, I found myself comfortably nestled in my seat, surrounded by a mix of familiar faces and a few strangers. All around me, everyone exuded a sense of warmth, friendliness, and a palpable nervous energy, all bound together by a shared hopefulness. The wall of black and white noise enveloped us, complemented by the vibrant scarves twirling in the air, creating a visual spectacle that paired perfectly with the soaring crescendo of excitement. This atmosphere was unparalleled, surpassing any experience I have ever encountered. It was more exhilarating than the electrifying match against PSG, triumphing over the memorable Arsenal 2-0 victory in our first takeover season, and eclipsing even the most thrilling derby games I have previously attended.
Now at this stage pre kick off I should explain that since January this year I have used a flip of a coin to help me make some very big decisions, I have removed logic from some of them and analysis and relied on a fateful flip of the coin.
Im talking work, house, finance stuff, not just small matters.
The Wednesday before the game I sat with friends at dinner and explained this, some laughed, taking a coin from them I flipped it with the thought of will we win the cup, it landed and I proclaimed we will win the cup on Sunday and I think I then had to explain to them what I have to you reading this about the coin flipping. On this same day I also said to the same group that I felt we would win 2-1 and Dan Burn would score the winner.
I based this narrative purely on the romantic aspect that football can possess and the intricate arc storylines that it can create. Consider the journey of a local lad, who is initially released from his childhood club, then finds himself working at a local shopping centre to make ends meet. His persistence pays off when he secures a position playing in the lower leagues. Soon, he makes a pivotal move to Brighton, only to grapple with the fear that he may have missed his chance to represent his beloved club, especially after it gets taken over by new owners. However, fate has different plans when he is signed and quickly becomes an integral part of the team. His hard work and determination culminate in an England call-up, followed by a dream moment where he scores at Wembley and ultimately lifts the prestigious cup, solidifying his legacy.
Did I have a bet on it despite my confidence?
No, I didn’t but do you know something? I don’t care. Ive seen something others have missed, I was there, a part of history and it will be logged as one of the best days of my life.
Perspective and all that.