Growing up in Newcastle, you don’t get a choice whether you follow football or not. It’s simply part of who you are. Every waking moment and memory is subconsciously intertwined with Newcastle United, even if you don’t yet realise it.
Each one of our backgrounds is etched with the essence of the club, where we grew up and which game carved memories for a lifetime.
Who we were with when Super Sunday relayed in the background of the family roast dinner, which player grew to be our hero amongst the crescendo of the Gallowgate.
This is passed through generations. Children grow up but our heroes’ legacy remains. The sheer mention of the name and the era evoke a thousand tales. Not only of the legend but the people that grew to love him.
Of those that no longer walk with us up to the cathedral but whose spirit remains pervasive as soon as you enter the ground.
Tributes are paid as time and people pass, not just to the names that made us believe; allowing us to have a sense of thrill week in week out.
But to the loved ones that defined their success, made it seem like a birthright by getting behind that team no matter what. The ones that established rituals of going to the game, filling each burger from the van, each score prediction walking up Leazes Lane, each pint before a game with a million heartfelt memories. These traditions have outlived the voices that first encouraged them but their footsteps are carved into every weekend spent marching through the terrace.
Loss can seem sore but knowing you are carrying that ritual each match day breathes warmth on even the coldest nights under the floodlights.
St James’ Park, whilst only holding 52,000+ seats, holds a hell of a lot more spirit than that.
Each win becomes a blessing, a sign of the blood that came before us roaring higher than up in the gods of Level 7.
Each tribute display binding us closer with those we stand with, for we might be strangers, but we all share the same blood of Newcastle United.