They call us, Newcastle United fans, the best in the world.
They celebrate the noise, the loyalty and praise the atmosphere, then price out the people who create it.
They celebrate tradition, then try to own it and sell it back to us.
So what are we? Supporters or consumers?
Does the Newcastle United owners see us as a group to be cherished or exploited?
Before the club answers that question for us, maybe it’s time we consider it ourselves.
What being a fan means will always be personal. For me, as someone living overseas, supporting Newcastle United is a lifeline back to the region where I was born. The club connects me to where I’m from, where I’ve been, and where my family has lived for generations.
But while the connection is deeply individual, there are common threads that define what it means to be a fan — not just of Newcastle, but of any football club.
Fans are loyal. They don’t choose their club the way they choose a product; it is woven into their identity, their family, their city. Fans are not replaceable. You cannot manufacture 5,000 lifelong supporters through a clever marketing campaign or an A/B test.
Fans were here long before owners arrived and they will remain long after they are gone. Their worth cannot be reduced to a line on a balance sheet or measured purely in monetary form. They may not hold the legal title to Newcastle United, but they carry something far more enduring — its memory, its identity, its soul. That emotional ownership cannot be bought, sold, or transferred.
Consumers are happy to follow the latest fashionable trend and swivel on a dime when that trend is no longer celebrated. They see a product and nothing deeper, no identity, no meaning, no connection to a region left behind. You can find 5,000 of them through clever marketing campaigns. Their worth can be reduced to a line on a balance sheet and measured purely in monetary form.
The club shows huge creativity in merchandising, consistently showering us with the newest pair of NUFC branded slippers, special edition warm up kits commemorating playing Wolverhampton Wanderers on a Wednesday and even Sando Tonali flavoured condoms.
Newcastle United have also fairly recently attempted to trademark the phrase “Howay the Lads”. The phrase has a deep connection to Newcastle United, no doubt — but it is hardly synonymous with the club alone. The club is literally attempting to trademark and sell back to supporters their own culture, nothing it seems is sacred, nothing is viewed through the lens of anything other than money.
We all understand the financial environment the club operates in. Revenues and therefore transfer budgets and wages are dwarfed by the clubs we are trying to compete with.
But does that mean the only option is to monetise everything, including the local phrasebook?
This attitude can only take us so far, look at Everton and Spurs. Both clubs pursued modern stadium projects designed to maximise revenue streams — premium seating, corporate packages, naming rights. The result? Higher ticket prices, a matchday experience increasingly shaped around spending power and pricing out the very fans who created the celebrated atmosphere in the first place.
The North East remains one of the most economically challenged regions in the UK. Many supporters come from working class backgrounds. Are they less deserving of attending matches? Is the only lens we view people through that of an economic one? Maybe you think it is, maybe you think those with money in society are more deserving. If this is the case then are nurses less valuable than stockbrokers or traders? Of course they are not, value cannot be measured purely in money.
The point of all of this is that we as fans get to choose how we feel about this, we get to have this conversation and come together if we wish.
Some will say it’s pointless or impossible and I agree, it is pointless if fans remain divided. Collective, unified action gives supporters power. You only need to look at German fan culture (where I live) to see what organised and structured supporter cooperation can achieve. The average price to watch a Bundesliga game here is less than 30 euros, don’t tell me it can’t be done, I see it every weekend in action.
As Al Pacino said in one of the greatest sports movies of all time (Any Given Sunday) “Either we heal now as a team or we will die as individuals.”
Now, do you feel like you are being celebrated or exploited?
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