Bradford City and Newcastle United matchdays bring me joy

Back then, I had been to watch Marske United’s last two home games under their old guise, with a massive financial deficit meaning they were sadly and inevitably wound up at the start of January.

Marske are my ‘home club’, a 10-minute drive from my parents’ house in Guisborough, and while there was a slightly eerie feel at those matches, there were huge attendances, one wonderful win, and a strange sense of positivity among the fans who wanted to see their team go out in style.

Luckily, there is no such financial strife at my ‘actual club’ Newcastle United or my ‘work club’ Bradford City, and after visiting both last month, it made me realise how much I miss the matchday buzz.

I wind my friends up no end by claiming I “support 13 or 14 clubs”, which is not strictly true.

Newcastle will always be my club, has been since I was four years old in 1999, and that will never change.

But I get wrapped up in the emotion of games, and I probably cut the most partisan figure on earth in the press box on matchdays.

I’ve jumped on City’s media officer in excitement after Andy Cook’s solo winner at Mansfield in November 2022, gasped audibly over Scott Banks’ unbelievable long-range curling strike against Sutton four days later, and bragged to anyone who’d listen that the Bantams were playing like Brazil as they demolished Accrington in March 2024.

City were so good at Accrington in March, yet somehow contrived to lose their next four games. (Image: Thomas Gadd.)

Saturday marked the second time I’ve been to Valley Parade as a fan for their final home fixture of the season, which always acts as their remembrance game for the 56 fans who died in the horrific Valley Parade Fire Disaster of May 1985.

It is a special, special occasion and one that, while I’m working at the T&A, I will make sure I attend annually going forward.

Everything about Saturday afternoon was meaningful, from the moment I met up with a good friend who I hadn’t seen since November at the Tiffin Café in Bradford City Centre.

We had a gorgeous lunch together, made that famous walk up North Parade and Manningham Lane, donated to the Burns Unit outside the ground and saw Mike and Georgia do their usual stellar work in selling the City Gent fanzine and memorial ribbons respectively.

Inside and on the Kop, the atmosphere was buzzing, You’ll Never Walk Alone sounded as poignant as ever (a song that means a lot to me given my family’s strong links with Liverpool), and the silence for the 56 was impeccably observed.

And my friend and I were treated to a largely excellent display from the Bantams, as they deservedly won 4-1, only to agonisingly miss out on the League Two play-offs by a point after Crawley’s 2-0 win over Grimsby and Barrow’s 1-1 draw against Mansfield.

It was a special afternoon on and off the pitch for Bradford City on Saturday. (Image: Thomas Gadd.)

After that, it was off to Guiseley for a night making pizza and drinking wine with my pals, but only after watching Everton versus Brentford at the pub, because what’s more football fan than following up watching 90 minutes of football with more football straight afterwards?

An excellent Saturday, all centred around a great matchday experience.

A fortnight earlier, and I made my first trip up to St James’ Park for nearly 11 months, after my unable to attend cousin had kindly offered me his season ticket for the game for a cut-price £25.

Newcastle have changed their ticketing system to a balloted one to keep up with the increased demand since our ‘not at all controversial’ Saudi takeover.

And that’s bad news for supporters like myself, as I can no longer buy general sale tickets for single matches, like I did when Newcastle qualified for the Champions League with a draw against Leicester last May.

But you get vertigo sat up in the Leazes Stand anyway, where my cousin and his father-in-law have plum season tickets in the East Stand near the halfway line.

Trundling up there early on the slow Northern train from Nunthorpe to Newcastle, I arrived just before 11am for the lunchtime kick-off.

Grabbing an early lunch, I made the fatal mistake of ordering a half-pint in the famous Strawberry Pub outside of St James’ Park, for which I was understandably mocked mercilessly.

Leaving behind the catcalls and boos, I made it to my East Stand seat 20 minutes before kick off, watched a wonderful Wor Flags display for our homegrown lads in the Gallowgate, then saw us batter Champions League-chasing Tottenham 4-0.

My cousin’s father-in-law nipped to the toilet after Alexander Isak’s opener, a fatal error of judgement given he missed Anthony Gordon doubling our lead a minute later.

Alexander Isak literally turns poor Micky van de Ven's world upside down on his way to opening the scoring for Newcastle against Spurs last month. (Image: PA.)

I had to hug a random old man instead, but myself and cousin’s father-in-law were reunited soon after, and were left disbelieving as further goals from Isak and Fabian Schar ensured a thumping win.

On my own after the game, I giddily sunk gin and lemonades (luckily well out of sight of the Strawberry crowd) and watched the Grand National.

Even though both of my horses miserably failed to do anything of note, it could not put a dampener on my day.

I arrived back in Nunthorpe just after 6:15pm to be greeted by my lift home.

That lift home being from my dad, a massive Spurs fan.

Safe to say I’d enjoyed my Saturday a little more than him…