Season 2005-06 Result
Sunderland 1-4 Newcastle United
 Hoyte 15.
 M.Chopra 59,
 A.Shearer 60 (pen),
 C.N'Zogbia 65,
 A.Luque 86.
Date: 17/04/2006  Venue: The Stadium Of Light  Competition: Premiership
Crowd: 40,032
Match Report Submitted on 23/04/2006 by Sean
Oh How We Laughed!
I hadn’t been this excited about going to the match for a long time! The anticipation of going to their ‘stadium’ and wallowing in their utter suffering made me tingle. Yes it’s true they had this one last chance of minor redemption. I’d be lying to claim that the thought of them only winning one game all season and that game being against us hadn’t crossed my mind more than once since they abandoned the Fulham game because it was cold, it had weighed heavily in irrational moments of pessimism. However the thought of what we could do to them and how we could torture them was just mouthwatering and based completely within the realms of sanity.

So, 6.10am and son number 3 (Jared) gets me out of bed for a feed, the sun is shining and it’s only hours before the pub opens. Isaac is up next and duly receives breakfast, then Joel and eventually Andrea rises and ‘gold stars’ awarded I begin my preparations. Beet has done the business again and Roi and Chrissy have deservedly got tickets after a good few away trips, so when he phoned and said he would pick them up it took a bit of pressure off, with family shopping hastily arranged to earn a few more ‘gold stars’.

Eleven o’clock arrives and the Sporties is already buzzing with a few people there who seemed to have more than an hours drinking (Greeny was at John Elliotts for 9am-bit of a late start by his standards). Smike had loaded the jukebox with all the punk classics and the atmosphere of excitement was infectious, any possibility of the unthinkable fear, dissipated by a collective belief that they were due some humiliation and Sid’s tip of the day ‘Shearer hatrick’ further enforced the faith. As time passed and the coach leaving time approached we were treated to an early Halloween trick as ‘Liam Lawrence’ and his mate came into the pub dressed in their best ‘NSPCC’ bashing match day togs for us to amuse ourselves with. They left for the ‘220’ as we boarded our coach, ‘we laughed again’!

An extremely uneventful and quiet journey to the ‘stadium’ of plight disappointed greatly as the unclean followed medical instructions and didn’t make any attempt to mix with the general population. Indeed, virtually no welcoming committee (even outside the $hithole public house), only one inbred seemed to have used up his prescription before Good Friday and attempted to punch a 9 tonne coach in front of us: more amusement. So we arrived at the turnstiles with only a moderate repugnant smell wafting our way as the majority of the disheartened stayed away and it was left to the kiddie brigade to attempt some banter, they were quickly quietened with ‘one Bob Murray’, ‘down with the hoaxer/ripper’ and ‘worst team in history’ although my personal favourite was the 80’s classic ‘back to school on Monday’.

Once inside the flat pack with no instructions ‘stadium’, the usual chaos for a pint ensued with 3,600 thirsty Mags trying to get served by a ridiculously small number of uneducated half-wits leading to no drinks for about 20 minutes after arrival and then more drink than is sensible in a 40 minute period as everyone seemed to get served at the same time. Apology accepted from one ‘barmaid?’ after she explained “We’re not used to serving a crowd”- true!!
Out onto the ‘terracing’ and the embarrassment of not being able to sell all of your tickets against your century (and the rest) old rivals was magnified by the humiliation of a dumb mascot with an enormous key (probably for the jobcentre) insulting himself and your own meagre ‘support’, clearly not understanding the relevance (thick mackem twad), and actually waving it in front of the completely oblivious Toon bench: more amusement.
Suffice to say of the football, that our team coach didn’t actually arrive until 55 minutes after kick-off and the SMB’s actually thought they had a chance whilst they were playing our ‘lookalike 11’! After their half time ‘moment in the sunshine’ they still had not realised that their ‘absolute best’ was still nowhere near good enough to match the abject display that our quality deemed necessary to dispatch comfortably. ‘One- nil to the championship’, indeed.
  • Foul they cried – OH HOW WE LAUGHED, ONE – ONE.
  • No foul they cried – WE STILL HADN’T STOPPED LAUGHING, ONE – TWO.
  • What is he doing they cried (we didn’t expect them to recognise it) – WE WERE STILL LAUGHING AND POGO-ING, ONE – THREE
  • Waste of money they cried – WE PI$$ED OURSELVES, ONE – FOUR.
The pathetic dregs that remained seemed a little upset: more amusement. One of them even encroached onto the pitch threw away his ‘season’ ticket and shook Glenn Roeder’s hand, clearly asking if he could go on the waiting list at St. Jimmys – clearly told to FCUK right off. The final whistle came and their ‘enraged’ ‘support’, sorry wrong word ‘homeless people’ offered to buy us all drinks outside (I think that’s what they meant): more amusement, like they can afford beer, probably meant meths. Then the groundsman collecting the corner flags obviously felt we hadn’t enjoyed our day enough and tried his hand at ‘amateur dramatics’ (including props – the flags), before being ‘restrained’ by a steward and sent to cry in the corner where the emergency access is.

As we left the ground no pegs were being sold at all as the police cordon but paid to any more merriment for us. The coach journey back was quite subdued as we took in the enormity of the humiliation witnessed, only a few of the unwashed tried to send us home with memento’s of their ‘fair town’, the building materials missed our coach completely and we returned to the Sporties only to find that ‘Liam Lawrence and friend’ were there already and had actually left as BIG AL stroked home the decisive penalty, not seeing it go in obviously. At least they still had their costumes on.

Although I only stayed for a couple, I had time to reflect on a wonderful day, due in no small part to David Endean’s lucky new socks!

Special mentions are necessary here: Smike, Keiron, Beet and (absolutely true) Studs for valour beyond the call of duty at the ‘stadium’ of plight bar!
Roi and Chrissy, for making my day and especially on Chrissy’s first Mackem away game (possibly won’t get to go in our lifetime).
The female photographer who bore the brunt of our celebrations when Chops netted and didn’t complain at all.
All the other Carrville Mags who didn’t get there, we wish you had been because it was so good every Mag deserved it and especially as it looks like it could be the ‘legends’ last appearance in the famous stripes and possibly his last goal.

Oh How We Laughed!