If Rudyard came from Cowgate...
No-one had realised Bez
was a Geordie...
The observant amongst you my have noticed that I'm a Newcastle supporter. Feel free to take the piss if you're one of life's glory hunters and 'support' a team that wins stuff even though your only link to the area they are based in is that you once bought an Oasis record/Ryan Giggs shagged your lass/you've got a relative named Chelsey or you once sang 'Ferry Across The Mersey at a works Christmas do on the karaoke just before throwing up over the boss and punching the office junior.
Like I say, feel free to take the piss as I already know I'm better than you...
Relegation now seems certain (McLaren hadn't been sacked at the time of writing - but he's not really the problem, just a symptom) so I was poking about the net looking for something to cheer me up - no, not a hitman who works for free when fat, tat-peddling, historic Northern institution wrecking, Tory wankers are the main target (although I'm sure there's a market eh...) but something amusing or inspiring and I found this on the Newcastle United Supporters Trust website - I think it may come in handy next year...
IF you can keep your name when other clubs
Are losing theirs and blaming it on the latest coup,
If you can trust yourself when Ashley betrays you,
But make allowance for his betrayal too;
If you can wait for him to go and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied to, don't believe his lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating him,
And yet don't like, nor talk of Dennis Wise:
If you can dream of promotion - and not make it your master;
If you can drink brown ale - and not make fighting your aim;
If you can meet with Ashley and Charnley - what a disaster
And treat those two impostors with great shame;
If you can hear the Gallowgate sing - then they have spoken
Their bitter memories of McKeag, Gullit and Cort,
If you can watch the team we give our lives to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up again with undying support:
If we can make one heap of all our winnings
And risk it on last seasons’ utter dross,
Relegation a chance to start again at our beginnings
And never breathe a word about our loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after Ashley has gone,
And so hold on lads ‘n’ lasses when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can play Scunthorpe or Swansea and keep your virtue,
Or play with Man U or Chelsea and not lose the common touch,
If neither mackems nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the pitch with determination and grit
With ninety minutes' worth of distance run,
Yours is (and always will be) St James’ Park and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Geordie, my son!
By Geordie Kipling - exceedingly good kebabs