I received an email from the club in March, informing us that we had to relocate from our current Newcastle United season ticket seats.
The family enclosure up in Level 7, seats that me and the lad have had since he was eight or nine.
Given he turns twenty-one later this year it is probably not before time, and being honest, we have probably been up there for a couple of seasons longer than we should have been.
When I checked, the seats we d been allocated showed a regression in terms of price and the view.
They were even higher up in Level 7 and curiously, the row we had been allocated (W – three from the back) is priced way differently to the back two rows (X and Y), £801 plays £380.
After a few unsuccessful attempts, including being abruptly cut off without any warning, I finally managed to contact the box office a few days later and to my surprise was given great service by the lad I spoke to. Well done Kyle!
Much better Newcastle United season ticket seats were obtained and the explanation as to the reason for the price differential between rows W and X/Y was duly provided. The back two rows have restricted viewing it would seem, a combination of concrete pillars and the roof impairing the ability to see what’s unfolding on the green baize below, apparently.
Wherever you have a season ticket, you are generally forced to congregate next to people who in any other setting you wouldn’t choose to.
There are of course exceptions and the guy who ditched his seat during the season before the takeover, remains someone I exchange WhatsApp messages with; we have in fact met for coffee when I was working close to where he resides.
It’s a bit like your neighbours. The only thing that binds you is the proximity to which you watch Netflix, eat and sleep. Over the years, I’ve had some downright dreadful neighbours, but thankfully most have been great. The one thing they all have in common however, is that I haven’t seen any of them since either me and the missus moved house or they did.
For a few years, I’ve thought most of the lads that sit around me at the match were canny. I was sadly mistaken (although again, there are exceptions). True enough, the warning signs were there for some time, I simply chose to ignore them. But the nonsense that’s been spouted during the last two home games has really riled me. Pope got it in the neck from some of my neighbours during the Brighton match and Barnes came in for an unwarranted amount of stick against Bournemouth. The most ludicrous thing I heard was one of them describing the side playing Bournemouth as the worst NUFC team he’d ever seen. I reckon this bloke is in his seventies, so unless he was an extremely late developer, what he said is patently untrue and a gross exaggeration of the actual facts.
And so, to West Ham on the 17th May.
Me and the lad have one game left in the seats we’ve called our own for over a decade. Fortunately, we haven’t been kicked out of SJP (although that time will no doubt come) and although the price of my ticket has increased by 70%, the pair of us will continue to bond over copious amounts of alcohol, pre and post-match, a far cry from the days when all it cost me was a packet of fruit gums.
More importantly, we’ll be free of the doomsters and the naysayers where we currently sit.