The forgotten protest at Newcastle United

Protests.  Remember them?  Hopefully, we’ve seen the back of them and there won’t be any need to do so.

However, many Newcastle United fans have protested in various ways over the years and we all know how the last 14 years have gone, but I’m going to remember a protest from another time, one that set up many of the fans’ groups, fanzines & a steely desire to never have to protest again.  I’m talking about the late 1980s and United Supporters For Change.

Back in the summer of 1989 I was 20 years old and had just finished the first year of my degree in History & Classics in that London and spent most of my time working in the smoke to get a few spondulicks for the coming year.  Beer & football money!  However, I came back up home and ended up being involved in the United Supporters For Change group.  I’d never been able to afford to buy a season ticket, but aside from the 1986/7 season, when I was playing on the left wing  most Saturday afternoons, for Jarrow St. Bedes, winning the JOC League, I’d hardly missed a match since 1975, until I moved to London for study.  I tried to get home, as much as possible, to attend games and also managed to obtain tickets for a few away games.  I hated missing out, as each game was special to me, but I had to face financial facts and put up with it. 

There’d been rumblings of protests for a while, as Newcastle had slumped since the day Kevin Keegan boarded a helicopter on St. James’ Park and left Tyneside.  Arthur Cox wasn’t rewarded, or backed by the board and Jack Charlton’s style of football led to fans expressing their unhappiness and he walked away, not needing the bother.  Somehow we found ourselves back in Division 2 despite the best efforts of long time serving fan favourite and loyal ex-goalkeeper, Iam McFaul and the same feeling of hopelessness permeated the whole area.  The club was being pushed back to stagnation by the board, controlled by the  Seymour, Westwood & McKeag families, who didn’t want to invest in the team, the structure of the club, training facilities, or the stadium and it seemed to be just ticking along.  Sound familiar?

The fans had had enough and the main focus of protest was aimed at Gordon McKeag, who was the Chairman at that time.  The Tyneside solicitor seemed to be distant from the fans and didn’t seem to understand the general feeling surrounding the club, appearing aloof and indifferent at best.  Action was needed.

I went along to a few meetings and heard fans speak passionately about the club and the desire to oust the current board and bring in John Hall to, hopefully, take the club forward.  I shared this passion and said my piece along with many others.  I bought a United Supporters For Change t-shirt and pledged to protest at the ground.  I remember standing outside the ground on Saturday, 19th August 1989, near to where the Bobby Robson statue now stands, wearing my t-shirt and holding a placard, urging fellow supporters to join us and boycott the match, only attending away games to sate our thirst for football.  A few joined with us, but most just walked past, incredulous and unmoved.  It felt very positive, standing for a great cause, but as reports came through, along with the roars from inside the ground, that Mickey Quinn had scored 4 against Leeds in a 5-2 win for Jim Smith’s team, it felt like we’d missed out.  A few decided that was it for their protest, but many stuck with it, including myself.

The following Saturday we were due to play Leicester City at Filbert Street and this was the first opportunity for the protest group to get to a match.  Seats on buses were booked and t-shirts, tickets pocketed and banners prepared for a long day.  A couple of friends of mine were picked up by my dad and we headed to Washington Services to meet the buses.  It was so early, the metros hadn’t started yet, so it was easier to get a lift there, than to get to St. James’ Park.  In total, around 20 lads congregated in the cold and wet waiting for the warmth of the bus and a few beers.  All of a sudden someone shouted
“There’s the buses!”

Everyone stood ready to get on board, but we were all left shocked, disappointed and very angry as one by one the coaches drove straight past us without stopping.  I’ll not go into what was said, but it was fairly colourful.  Immediate action was needed.  A few made their way to the public phones and called to organise transport.  Very soon a number of cars appeared and headed off, but there were nine of us left stranded.  One lad said that we should chip in to hire a mini-bus.  There wasn’t much choice, so a call was made to secure transport.  Half an hour later an old battered Bedford van pulled up. Two lads dived into the front and the rest headed to the back doors.  As we opened them, it became apparent that a mistake had been made: there were no seats!

Having no choice, we simply had to stand up, doubled over as the van wasn’t tall enough, or sit on the floor, which was soaking wet due to leaks in the roof.  It was absolutely hoying it down!  No comfy seats, videos, convivial chat, or beers were partaken.  A few defiant terrace chants lasted an hour or so, but the cold, wet and uncomfortable position we’d found ourselves in wasn’t great, to say the least!

After hours of back breaking travel, being flung around the back of the van, we finally reached Leicester and parked the van as close to the ground as possible, running to the turnstiles, as we only had a few minutes until kick off.  The match vas fairly uneventful and unmemorable.  A 2-2 draw in front of only 13,693 fans, many of whom were wearing black and white, or United Supporters For Change t-shirts, the journey didn’t feel worth it.

As we started to head back to the van, my two mates and I were herded towards the coaches, with the rest of the fans, being pelted by missiles from Leicester fans who’d lain in wait for us.  It was getting very ugly and we realised that we had tickets for the coaches, so headed towards them, explaining the situation, getting apologies and a few cans of beer each to calm our protests.  It felt good sitting in the warmth of a cosy seat as we headed back home.

Later that night, one of my mates received a call.  It was one of the lads who’d booked the rusty van, concerned about the three of us.  They’d made their way back to the van to find it on it’s side and set ablaze by the lovely Leicester fans.  The police were there and they instructed our fellow morning sojourners to turn it upright, get in and get away.  They didn’t wait for us three and thought we’d be left to the mercy of the unruly hordes.  Little did they know. 

I went back to university and managed to get to some more away matches, still joining in with the protests that kept on and on, piling more and more pressure on the board, until eventually, in December 1990 McKeag stepped down after a failed share issue and Hall became the majority shareholder the following year, bringing back Kevin Keegan to herald a new era of hope at the club.

Fast forward to Thursday, 7th October 2021, when Mike Ashley finally left the club and we are now in the hands of Amanda Staveley, Reuben Brothers and the PIF.  Our fortress had been left in disrepair, but the foundations are being laid for a new dawn.  I’m looking forward to capturing those moments of euphoria I spoke about in We Are The Geordies.

It doesn’t really matter…But it does!

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