By Brian Hall
Sunday 30 Oct 2011 09:40:00
Browse all Brian Hall articles





Did not really feel like writing yesterday. Writers' block sounds a bit pretentious to describe why inspiration was lacking, so might as well be honest. The sentiment had buggar all to do with any ability to jot down boring blogs. Na. It involved a massive block on noting Life as a Mag.        


Aye.  the The Cup Curse returned on Wednesday night, but I suppose most of us have got the t-shirt, and of course the Curse, and some of those t- shirts were yet more worn and tattered. Dreams of cup glory surfacing, only to be dashed either by a pathetic perfomance or just a bloody oh so predicatable defiant but unlucky outcome. I suppose it was the latter at Blackburn but the immediate gut feeling was the same. Seen it all before.Got that shredded t- shirt.


Take the night of four of us Mags as just one example. 2 felt cup fever, one was about to fall down with the same feeling, and the other, perhaps the wisest one, simply expected the wheels to come off in some shape or form. Despite decades of experience, starting at my first ever home game, Bedford Town in the FA Cup, and onto an endless list beginning in blind hope and optimism and ending in despair, I was not that Wise One. I was up for the Cup, man - again.           


So much so that I even alerted Marchy, and Our Claire in passing, to an internet site where the Big Game would definitely be on. This in itself turned out to be duff information, but impacted upon Mr March who cancellled his cheap night out to the pictures. Never mind, I soon recovered from the failure to actualy watch us march into the quarter finals, and tuned into the radio commentary. This then collapsed into some extremely anglo-saxon words hoyed at the radio as we went two nil down - and, I dont need to justify this, I turned it off. Call me He of Little Faith, but I hated NUFC. After visits away to Wrexham, Wigan, and so on, it was exactly the same feeling. Buggar them, I thought. Talking the talk - again - but not walking the walk - again.


So. In a very, very foul mood, I retired to bed, sick as a pig. Next morning, woke up, and felt the same. I then decided to gan up the shop quickly for a packet of tabs and vowed NOT to get the Journal, as after so many years of  reading....so sorry to the fans, we will make it up, etc...........I was in no mood to read that crap. As I say, got the t shirt. Then of course, the plot changed in the paper shop, as I glanced down at the tabloids only to see some talk of a 4 3 result, not 2 O.                        Aye, the ordinary night in the Cup had obviously became even more par for the Gallowgate course. Two very, very late goals, extra time, hopes raised, lose another goal, bounce back, and then.............aye, Blackburn Bloody Rovers score at the end of extra time. The end of extra bloody time.



Gus, another one of the Gang of Four, then booms in to tell me of his evening . We forced ourselves to laugh. Forced ourselves, that is, as he pointed out, rightly, that his night had been even worse than mine. He is not a radio man, and he prefers to check BBC text updates. He too deserted after 2 O, and by the way, he has no credentials of loyalty to prove either. He then took a phone call from a Jock mate up in some remote part of Scotland. His mate said - what about your team - Gus said divvent talk to me about that shite, only for his contact to say they had the match where they were, and he was only ringing to congratulate on the comeback via the Cabaye equaliser. Gus then got himself re-entangled, asking to be kept informed as BBC text runs slower than a direct telephone call. His Scottish mate kept ringing, and Gus's emotions went into overdrive. The last call duly finished his night off. 



Since Wednesday night, the Third Man has totally disappeared. Marchy really felt we were off on the Wembley trail, and I only hope that he is alive, after cancelling the cheap pictures night out with their lass to watch the match and facing those consequences, and driving around on Thursday in a permanent road rage.


As for the Fourth Party, Neil, he has his PhD in NUFC Studies. He simply sits back, does not get hyped up, and nothing surprises him. He takes it all so calmly. And he has our ragged old t shirt too, many times over. If only I could advance beyond my Degree on NUFC Natural Events to that level.


But let us end on optimism - 48 hours have ticked on since Wednesday night. Optimistic tone time. One, the nasty bunch all got through to the quarters anyway, eg, Manure, Man City, Liverpool, and the Arse, which could have easily risked even more heartache in a humiliation or unlucky disaster. Also, it is a shite, micky mouse Cup anyway, so who cares, eh? And..........it could have led to penalties to settle that Blackburn match on Wednesday night, and our record aint exactly superb in such situations.




At the end of the day, as they say in footy, keep the faith, I suppose. Most of us have faced far worse. Me, Gus, Marchy, and Neil. Even the younger members of our tribe have encountered some pretty big blows - Our Claire is only 21, and she expects to win f.....all. But like us all, she cannot leave leave the NUFC Clan. Newcastle, UNITED, Will Never Be Defeated. Off the pitch, that is, for sure. 





PS                A very sincere tribute to all the NUFC who made up almost HALF of the attendance on Wed night. As for the very young ones who went down there and do not have the t shirt, dont worry. You are amongst the loyalist football supporters, the world has ever seen..................................



SONG FOR THE DAY          Edith Piaf - je ne regrette rien.  No bloody regrets on being a Mag................ish!!!        




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