When most Toon fans write an account of Sunday 6th December 2015 they'll be articulating a day of ecstasy, a day of wonder and excitement when Newcastle United battled the elements against an in-form Liverpool to record an unexpected and wildly celebrated 2-0 victory. Happy days indeed! I however battled elements of a very different sort in my futile attempts to watch the match.
The story begins on Saturday 5th December and is set in Lancaster where my colleagues and I took three disabled men out for a Christmas meal as part of our current employment. As we entered the restaurant,the rain was coming thick and fast and standing water was apparent on the roads. No panic though, those of us that finished shift after the meal headed to the pub and as I had all of match-day off work my plans were more than clear!
My first ominous omen came after an hour of playing pool and drinking cider when the lights went out in the pub, no taxis were available for hire and the buses weren't running. One step outside showed roads like rivers and talks of the worst floods in decades. After hanging round for nearly an hour waiting for a colleague to catch I lift, I walked the long way home and reached my flat roughly 11PM. Soon after I arrived, my power went off and when it became apparent it wasn't returning that night, I headed to bed looking forward to a match-day off work.
Sunday 6th December dawned and with no power I decided to have a couple of cans at my flat and head into Lancaster to find a pub showing the match. All bridges into Lancaster were shut and police were saying 60,000 homes without electricity with some not going on until Tuesday, bridges unlikely to be opened up during the day either. At this point I felt my first pang of anxiety about missing the football but as it was only midday, I decided to head in the direction of Morecambe and hope to grab a taxi along the way. I then realised the phone line was down and began to wonder if my luck was out and it wasn't going to be the matchday I'd anticipated. After failing to get through to a taxi company on a payphone, I spent more than an hour walking into Morecambe.
For some reason I just assumed Morecambe would have power and plenty of pubs would be showing the match. I had a little cash but would get cash back on my card and the booze would flow while the Toon celebrated victory. I would buy cans of lager and hot food on my way home and joyously find my flat fully lit, heated and ready for an evening of celebration. How wrong I was!
After entering the first open pub, I was informed in total darkness that the whole of Morecambe was down and no power was expected until at least the next day. I chanced my luck and walked along the prom for a further hour past pub after closed pub. I noticed 'The Royal' selling pints by candle light and disconsolately trudged in resigned to my fate that with two hours to go, I would have to miss the match. After sulking my way through a pint of ale, I over-heard a rumour that Heysham had some electricity due to the station they have there. A little voice in my head clicked into gear - "screw it, lets have a mission! Find a taxi, flag it down, get to Heysham an earn your night of celebration. Good things come through battling adversity". I got a taxi and asked for any pub in Heysham with electricity.
If this was a fictional story then I would pull up outside a pub with five minutes to go, stroll in wearing my black and white shirt and have the aforementioned day of merriment. Unfortunately the day turned out very differently.
No pub in Heysham open, no power, no hope of seeing the match and no money to scout any further, I was forced to admit defeat. The taxi driver was a Liverpool fan who turned the meter off to get me home with the £13.90 I had left and I sat in my flat with the phone lines still down, no Internet and no way of knowing the score. I shivered my way through reading 'The Popular Side' cover to cover and my current book (Ironically 'The rainmaker' by John Grisham). Until the phone lines came back on at 9PM.
My first text came from Andrew who had been at the match "get in!!!". Oh my God! Did we actually win? Then my mate Lee texted "what a result! Really played with passion as well!" At this point I texted everyone I could asking for confirmation of the score and scorers.
2-0?! 2 bloody 0? We haven't! We haven't gone and actually won? After a wild jig of delight in almost total darkness, I greedily swigged down my last remaining can of fosters whilst toasting a fantastic victory for the lads!
I went to bed cold, tired, hungry and drained from the day's excursions! Despite the lack of food in the fridge, candles on the shelf or cash in my wallet, I also went to bed with a smile on my face. The only thing that mattered? Two-nil to the Gerodie boys!
The next time we sing about being mental and being mad, we should remember just how bizarre our behaviour must appear sometimes from the outside.
Howay the lads!