What would you do on a summer’s afternoon when you realise that you have the day to yourself? Go for a walk in the countryside maybe? Visit an old friend? Perhaps you’d prefer the cinema, or a spot of lunch at a decent pub?
I was faced with all those possibilities last weekend, but the lure of a rickety train ride, a greasy burger and the company of thousands of swearing, shouting strangers swung that particular experience in its favour and I took myself off to watch Sunderland v Burnley at the Stadium of Light.
Now, you may hate football. There are some of my friends – chiefly Newcastle supporters – who will have lost interest by now because of the intense rivalry between the two teams. But any curiosity about the identity of the famous person I met on the train from Newcastle to Sunderland will now never be satisfied. More fool them!
And I know a lot of people are at best ambivalent towards the beautiful game, but stick with me, this isn’t really a match report or anything as serious as that. Instead it’s a tale of the whole experience of a match day at a very busy stadium.
There’s a direct train from where I live to Sunderland, which passes through Newcastle. And it was at Newcastle where all sorts of people got on. Had it been the 1970s or 1980s, I might have worried to see supporters of three different teams all meet in one carriage. But thankfully all that football-related hooliganism nonsense is now largely a thing of the past and the Sunderland, Middlesbrough (the train goes there as well) and Burnley fans all nodded politely to each other, joshing mildly about who’s going to win the afternoon’s contest.
“Good afternoon to you, my good fellow. I see from your attire that you are in favour of a victory for the Clarets this afternoon. I suspect you may be rather disappointed, come 5 o’clock.” That sort of thing. Kind of.
You could identify who everyone supported because they all sported the fashion of wearing their team’s shirts. I have resolved to get myself a Palace shirt one day, but unlike some of the larger gentlemen I witnessed at the stadium, I think I’ll wait until I lose a couple of stone before that happens. I have seen what an XL shirt looks like on a XXXL body.
Talking of losing weight, I popped into a greasy spoon cafe in the centre of Sunderland prior to the game. I had settled on a rather unhealthy lasagne as a treat to myself (I’m in the process of trying to shrink myself into an XL shirt, so this would’ve been a once a week lapse) but I was saved by the place only taking cash. I’ve not had any actual cash in my pocket since Crystal Palace last scored from a corner kick – about 2021 – so I had to find somewhere else to eat.
The answer came courtesy of a catering van parked near the ground, which offered a pulled pork roll, dripping with gravy and garnished with stuffing. I refused the onions because of the diet. There are limits after all. I have to say it was pretty darned tasty, and stopped my hunger pangs in their tracks.
If I had been any larger, I might have had trouble squeezing through the turnstiles at the stadium. I suspect some of my fellow passengers on the train might have had to make alternative arrangements to access the venue because the gaps really are quite narrow (why, I wonder? It’s the same at most grounds).
Anyway I managed to find my seat and enjoyed a tip top view of quite an enjoyable game. Sunderland won 1-0, which would have been a severe disappointment to the famous face I met on the train on the way here as he is unashamedly a Burnley fan.
Alistair Campbell, former adviser to Tony Blair and now a renowned journalist and podcaster, had been in Chicago at the Democratic National Convention on the Thursday, and Scotland the previous day to watch his daughter perform at the Fringe, but still had time to go and watch his team play at Sunderland. He’s not everyone’s cup of tea I know, but I enjoy his podcasts and I told him so when I saw him. He seemed like a decent guy to me.
I beetled out of the stadium at a fair old lick as soon as the final whistle went and managed to walk straight onto a train as soon as I got to the station, arriving home just over an hour later. I’m going to watch the mighty Crystal Palace in south London in a couple of weeks time and it’ll be a much more challenging journey.
Maybe I should support Sunderland instead.
Yeah, right.
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