It never stops raining. From the moment the train pulls into Newcastle to when I leave 24 hours later, there is a constant downpour. Not a glimmer of sunlight. The rain blows into your face. You can see the drops in front of your eyes. You just have to put your head down and push through it. And the wind swirls around, so there is no direction you can walk without your face exposed to the wet. I’m sure Newcastle has brighter days, but early in the afternoon of the Matchday 7 visit of PSV Eindhoven in deepest January, nobody is out on the streets. Talk about soaking up the atmosphere.
The locals may be hiding, but less so reminders that this is Newcastle United’s home turf. Murals to cherished players from past and present adorn the walls, while outside and in, nearly every pub, restaurant and cafe seems to display some mark of affiliation. Perhaps that goes with the territory in a one-club city, but it’s impressive how this fanbase is so single-minded in its support.
It’s difficult to imagine that, just a decade ago, Newcastle were fighting for promotion to the top flight. The mood is a lot more buoyant these days, supercharged by last season’s League Cup final triumph – the Magpies’ first major trophy in 70 years. The euphoria of Newcastle’s Wembley showpiece victory against Liverpool is still felt around town. Posters of the cup are a recurring emblem, not just in shop windows and inside various establishments but even at the odd bus stop.
None of that keeps the rain at bay, though. It’s time to head inside and my first stop is the Geordie Stottie, a small cafe near the station with a Newcastle United badge emblazoned on both front windows and player photos inside. Full disclosure: I’m from Pune in India and while a visit to St James’ Park has always been on my bucket list, I’ve also been sent here to report back on the local food. And I have to say I like the stottie, a traditionally large, flat bread which I have with a filling of sausage and brown sauce. So far, so good.
Next, pease pudding at Grainger Market, a cool covered market with plenty of food stalls. To be frank, I really struggle with pease pudding. The version I try is basically how the locals like it – with sliced ham and ground chickpea paste in a roll. You might think it would taste something like hummus, but not at all. Individually, the ingredients are inoffensive, but mixed together it’s tough going. It’s unseasoned and bland. You simply can’t compare it to the spicy bursts of complex flavours back home.
There is one last speciality on the menu – a chicken parmo. Now this I did like. Manjaros does one of the best parmos in Newcastle, apparently, so I head there. It’s basically a crumb-fried chicken cutlet lathered with cheddar cheese and bechamel. It’s supposedly more Teesside than Tyneside, so I don’t know if it can actually be classed as a Geordie food, but it’s the tastiest thing I eat all day. There is also an ungodly amount of cheese on that chicken, which I’ll be trying to burn off in the gym for a while.
After all that food, it’s time for a drink. The pubs around St James’ Park are great, particularly the Strawberry. It’s already packed at six – a barcode of black-and-white-striped shirts everywhere you look. There is barely room to stand. Scarves and framed pictures of players and the stadium hang from the walls. The cold air outside clashes with the warm, excitable smiles of fans inside, fogging up the windows. There is even an old Star Wars pinball machine. No doubting the force is strong in here tonight.
Right by the Strawberry is a boxpark where people have been taking cover from the heavens. Massive screens have been set up around food stalls and there’s plenty of seating in the middle, but good luck finding a spot. Presumably, those who don’t have tickets are planning to watch the game here. A presenter on the mic is calling young Newcastle fans up onto a stage to give pre-match predictions, and one brave kid plumps for a 22-0 win. You’ve got to admire the confidence.
After spending half an hour milling around, I make my way to the stadium, joining the herd of zebra shirts on the walk up the hill. St James’ Park is a relatively short stroll from the station and towers above the streets below. Tonight, the ground is enveloped by dark, cloudy skies, but the floodlights illuminate the air above, rays refracting through raindrops to create a strangely inviting glow in the mist. The 52,000-seater ground is at capacity and the Gallowgate End especially is a sight to behold as banners are raised as kick-off approaches.
Each banner depicts a newspaper spread recalling milestone moments in Newcastle’s Champions League history. “3 Shears” reads one, written after Alan Shearer’s hat-trick against Bayer Leverkusen in 2003. “Mag-nificent” says another, a response to Craig Bellamy’s late winner against Feyenoord in 2002. “Super Tino turns on the magic” highlights Faustino Asprilla’s memorable treble against Barcelona in 1997.
Lastly, a message is unfurled as the Champions League anthem plays: “Write the next headline” it declares, encouraging the current crop to create their own story. As the anthem ends, a roar rises. Who wouldn’t give absolutely everything for their team in an atmosphere like this?
I’ve been to the Camp Nou and other grounds larger than this, but the intensity and sound here are different. Maybe it’s because Newcastle really are the only big team in town. The sense of unity is incredible. You’re almost part of the action. The guy behind me is halfway to the pitch every time play comes our way – arms everywhere, gesticulating, constantly leaning forward to shout instructions and moan at the ref.
Everything is just black and white – even the red of the PSV fans is muted in the shadow of the stand way up in the gods to our left. It’s not just the colour, it’s the noise too that doesn’t let up. And the home fans have every reason to cheer. Just eight minutes in, PSV keeper Matěj Kovář’s rushed clearance under pressure is picked up by Bruno Guimarães. He plays the ball to Joelinton, who squares it to Yoane Wissa to open the scoring. Before the break, Wissa latches onto a scuffed back pass and sets up Anthony Gordon to slot home. Harvey Barnes then adds the third in the second half – the headlines have been written, as requested. Ask and you shall receive.
From the cauldron of St James’ Park, I head back out into the rain. Wet but wonderful, Newcastle has fully lived up to its reputation.
It never stops raining. From the moment the train pulls into Newcastle to when I leave 24 hours later, there is a constant downpour. Not a glimmer of sunlight. The rain blows into your face. You can see the drops in front of your eyes. You just have to put your head down and push through it. And the wind swirls around, so there is no direction you can walk without your face exposed to the wet. I’m sure Newcastle has brighter days, but early in the afternoon of the Matchday 7 visit of PSV Eindhoven in deepest January, nobody is out on the streets. Talk about soaking up the atmosphere.
The locals may be hiding, but less so reminders that this is Newcastle United’s home turf. Murals to cherished players from past and present adorn the walls, while outside and in, nearly every pub, restaurant and cafe seems to display some mark of affiliation. Perhaps that goes with the territory in a one-club city, but it’s impressive how this fanbase is so single-minded in its support.
It’s difficult to imagine that, just a decade ago, Newcastle were fighting for promotion to the top flight. The mood is a lot more buoyant these days, supercharged by last season’s League Cup final triumph – the Magpies’ first major trophy in 70 years. The euphoria of Newcastle’s Wembley showpiece victory against Liverpool is still felt around town. Posters of the cup are a recurring emblem, not just in shop windows and inside various establishments but even at the odd bus stop.
None of that keeps the rain at bay, though. It’s time to head inside and my first stop is the Geordie Stottie, a small cafe near the station with a Newcastle United badge emblazoned on both front windows and player photos inside. Full disclosure: I’m from Pune in India and while a visit to St James’ Park has always been on my bucket list, I’ve also been sent here to report back on the local food. And I have to say I like the stottie, a traditionally large, flat bread which I have with a filling of sausage and brown sauce. So far, so good.
Next, pease pudding at Grainger Market, a cool covered market with plenty of food stalls. To be frank, I really struggle with pease pudding. The version I try is basically how the locals like it – with sliced ham and ground chickpea paste in a roll. You might think it would taste something like hummus, but not at all. Individually, the ingredients are inoffensive, but mixed together it’s tough going. It’s unseasoned and bland. You simply can’t compare it to the spicy bursts of complex flavours back home.
There is one last speciality on the menu – a chicken parmo. Now this I did like. Manjaros does one of the best parmos in Newcastle, apparently, so I head there. It’s basically a crumb-fried chicken cutlet lathered with cheddar cheese and bechamel. It’s supposedly more Teesside than Tyneside, so I don’t know if it can actually be classed as a Geordie food, but it’s the tastiest thing I eat all day. There is also an ungodly amount of cheese on that chicken, which I’ll be trying to burn off in the gym for a while.
After all that food, it’s time for a drink. The pubs around St James’ Park are great, particularly the Strawberry. It’s already packed at six – a barcode of black-and-white-striped shirts everywhere you look. There is barely room to stand. Scarves and framed pictures of players and the stadium hang from the walls. The cold air outside clashes with the warm, excitable smiles of fans inside, fogging up the windows. There is even an old Star Wars pinball machine. No doubting the force is strong in here tonight.
Right by the Strawberry is a boxpark where people have been taking cover from the heavens. Massive screens have been set up around food stalls and there’s plenty of seating in the middle, but good luck finding a spot. Presumably, those who don’t have tickets are planning to watch the game here. A presenter on the mic is calling young Newcastle fans up onto a stage to give pre-match predictions, and one brave kid plumps for a 22-0 win. You’ve got to admire the confidence.
After spending half an hour milling around, I make my way to the stadium, joining the herd of zebra shirts on the walk up the hill. St James’ Park is a relatively short stroll from the station and towers above the streets below. Tonight, the ground is enveloped by dark, cloudy skies, but the floodlights illuminate the air above, rays refracting through raindrops to create a strangely inviting glow in the mist. The 52,000-seater ground is at capacity and the Gallowgate End especially is a sight to behold as banners are raised as kick-off approaches.
Each banner depicts a newspaper spread recalling milestone moments in Newcastle’s Champions League history. “3 Shears” reads one, written after Alan Shearer’s hat-trick against Bayer Leverkusen in 2003. “Mag-nificent” says another, a response to Craig Bellamy’s late winner against Feyenoord in 2002. “Super Tino turns on the magic” highlights Faustino Asprilla’s memorable treble against Barcelona in 1997.
Lastly, a message is unfurled as the Champions League anthem plays: “Write the next headline” it declares, encouraging the current crop to create their own story. As the anthem ends, a roar rises. Who wouldn’t give absolutely everything for their team in an atmosphere like this?
I’ve been to the Camp Nou and other grounds larger than this, but the intensity and sound here are different. Maybe it’s because Newcastle really are the only big team in town. The sense of unity is incredible. You’re almost part of the action. The guy behind me is halfway to the pitch every time play comes our way – arms everywhere, gesticulating, constantly leaning forward to shout instructions and moan at the ref.
Everything is just black and white – even the red of the PSV fans is muted in the shadow of the stand way up in the gods to our left. It’s not just the colour, it’s the noise too that doesn’t let up. And the home fans have every reason to cheer. Just eight minutes in, PSV keeper Matěj Kovář’s rushed clearance under pressure is picked up by Bruno Guimarães. He plays the ball to Joelinton, who squares it to Yoane Wissa to open the scoring. Before the break, Wissa latches onto a scuffed back pass and sets up Anthony Gordon to slot home. Harvey Barnes then adds the third in the second half – the headlines have been written, as requested. Ask and you shall receive.
From the cauldron of St James’ Park, I head back out into the rain. Wet but wonderful, Newcastle has fully lived up to its reputation.
