There is a battle for the soul of Newcastle United Football Club. Pro-Saudi tourism adverts have recently been popping up on social media from grassroots fans of the club who possess a large social media following.
This is not an easy article for me to write. On January 31st 1995, I was born. My Mam staunchly refused the ‘last rites’ a priest asked if he could administer, and – at the same time – my Dad was signing me up to become a member of the Junior Magpies. This is how much the football club means to the fans of it. There are not many places in the world where football means this much. I say that without any hyperbole.
‘Yeah, my son could die. Or he couldn’t – and one day he’ll come to the match with me.’
Which I did. Of course I did. The vast majority of us in Newcastle would if we were lucky enough to get a ticket. It’s something special to walk up to that ‘cathedral on the hill’ and hear the static electricity of conversation buzzing around you. To listen to snatches of conversation about what to expect in the ground. To be in the pub beforehand, where – as a six year old – every weekend I was baptised with a few cans of coke while listening to the Geordie faithful around me.
This club means so much to all of us; we breathe it. We talk about it throughout the week, discussing it with taxi drivers and bonding with people we don’t know, sharing stories about certain parts of the game or season that meant a lot.
16th March 2025 saw Newcastle United win their first trophy in over seven decades. The living room I was in was replete with my family. When the final whistle blew, two cousins – who are tough, strong lads – broke down in tears. I still am not quite sure how my eyes stayed dry. This was it, the moment.
All we had spoken about for so long was here. It didn’t feel real, even though it was tangibly happening, as if I could step through that screen and be pitchside, seeing it all – a dream fashioned somehow into reality. Everyone in this city has lost one of the most important people in their lives, who lived and breathed football just as much as we all have. Sadly, they were not able to witness the most glorious of days.
The afternoon following the final I was at a funeral for one of my Dad’s closest friends. There was a Newcastle scarf draped over his coffin. It comes with us eternally. At the reception afterwards there was a part-poured bottle of Newcastle Brown Ale standing sentry in his honour. Some may call this parochial – maybe it is. To me it is romantic, spiritual and philosophical. We pour so much of ourselves into this football club that it is a part of us and we are part of it.
Conservative estimates of the parade on Saturday 29th March put the attendance at 300,000. I was there – on top of the Haymarket car park – and I think it may end up being north of the amount suggested. Everyone was your best friend that day. The bars were buzzing, the conversation was electric and we were all overjoyed.
Maybe this has been rambling – self-indulgent perhaps – but let there be no doubt of my affection and affinity for my football club.
But what fans of this club have recently witnessed is an insidious attempt by the ownership to launder the image of their country. It’s happening successfully elsewhere on the world stage: they’re willing to host talks between the United States and Russia regarding the conflict in Ukraine, they’ve invested in Disney and Uber, brought world boxing to Riyadh, and bought LIV Golf.
Much of the damage that the house of Saud has wreaked upon the world has of course been far more egregious than this. For fans of Newcastle United we can – and should – both support the team and also be able to damn the regime.
X has recently been littered with fans deriding the influencers who took this money, with quips and memes firing back and forth across cyberspace. It’s rare us Geordies lose our sense of humour. For now – it seems the fans are winning this battle for Newcastle United’s soul, let’s just hope it stays that way.
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