“Right,” said Coral (name changed for anonymity), the St James’ Park tour guide, holding a coat hanger aloft, “A shirt has gone missing and we need it returned immediately.”
The famous stadium tour had reached the home dressing room, and the participants were making the most of the short time in Eddie Howe’s black and white bunker to picture themselves with their heroes’ shirts. The famous post-win squad photos were being imagined, there was a feeling of euphoria in the air. We were stood in the scene of many magical post-match celebrations, Champions League nights, Premier League hidings. It was almost time to move on to the next part of the tour. But for now no one was going anywhere.
“Whoever has taken the shirt, just return it, no questions asked,” said a member of the security team a moment later. “Otherwise we call the police.”
Eyes were darting around the room. Eyebrows raised. Wow, this was for real. The big group of Dutch visitors in the tour congregated to take a group photo, the rest of the early afternoon tour group standing around the perimeter of the palatial dressing room or peering into the warm-up area to see just how this wonderful club functions on match day. Coral had been superb from the start, and everyone in the tour had warmed to her Geordie sense of humour and friendly demeanour. But even Coral had a serious look on her face now as the mysery unfolded. From what was being said and from what we could see outside the dressing room, we could work out that a shirt had gone missing from the away dressing room.
The away dressing room had been a really interesting part of the day, and we had listened intently as we were told of the history of the room and how it compared with others in the premier league. There were shirts of each of the EPL teams spaced around the room, and Michelle had been keen to take a photo with the Liverpool home shirt. After all, she is a nailed-on Liverpool fan and was due to head to Anfield the next day for the FA Cup third round game with Accrington Stanley. As she left the room, there was some playing with the light switches and someone was told off for touching them. All eyes on the big Dutch group of ten or so strapping lads on a football weekend, camped at the end of the room. They’d not been listening too much, any mention of Feyenoord or Bobby Robson would elicit comments from the non-Feyenoord fans in the group; it was a group of young blokes on an away day weekend and Coral was incredibly patient with them, trying to corral them like toddlers at one point after they ventured out of bounds.
“Okay, we’re not going anywhere until this is resolved,” said the security team member.
It was like school. If the whole class was told off for something that one person had done, you were all responsible. The feeling of responsibility felt like guilt and you started wondering if you were part of it. A long wait in the dressing room, with the police turning up and interviewing everyone on scene, and the culprit being led away in handcuffs was not out of the realms of possibility. This was juicy drama.
A few moments later, there was more activity in the corridor outside. We’d already been told how many security cameras were in place in the stadium, so there would be no surprise if there were security cameras everywhere inside. A few members of the group were talking with security, showing photos they’d taken of the away dressing room, confirming that it was the Liverpool shirt that had gone missing, the one that was at the far end of the away drssing room, the furthest from the door. Perhaps the internal investigation was coming to its conclusion.
In strode another member of the security team, who walked straight over to one of the bins, maybe a laundry bin, that was blocking the way between the dressing room and the shower area. He reached in and pulled out a red shirt and walked back out of the room without saying a word. We all looked at each other. How did they know? Had someone confessed? Was there security footage?
Coral walked in, her friendly face switched back into tour-guide mode.
“Follow me,” she said, and the tour continued to the tunnel area as if nothing had happened, and the mystery of the missing shirt had been erased from memory.
This was a magnificent display of internal policing, diffusing what could have been an uncomfortable situation, and resolving the matter with no further action. It was swift and professional, and the tour continued and the smiles and laughs continued.
We said goodbye to Coral with a smile as the tour concluded at the main entrance; this had been a brilliant afternoon at the home of Newcastle United, and our two tour guides had given us an experience filled with insight and personal experience. There was conjecture in Shearer’s Bar afterwards where some of our fellow group members discussed what had just happened, and it was widely accepted who the culprit was. But we’ll never know for sure!
I’ve now done the stadium tour four times. This was by far the best, not only because of the Agatha Christie-style whodunnit scene in the home dressing room, but because I had my family with me. The kids will have a much richer knowledge of this splendid stadium, and tuning in to watch at ridiculous hours of the night back in Australia will be more likely to rouse the kids to watch it with me.
I look forward to joining the stadium tour again in the future. It really is a great initiative by the club and I was worried when this week was blocked out before the FA Cup draw brought us a home game, and the club re-opened bookings. The incredibly tough task of securing tickets for the FA Cup game with Bromley now happily negotiated, we’ll be back there on Sunday to experience the stadium filled with fans for what is hopefully not a fairytale cup upset. I believe this will be my first FA Cup home game since Gazza smashed a rocket into the Gallowgate top corner to win 1-0 against Crystal Palace back in the eighties. Since then, I’ve had a mixed bag of Pemier League games and Championship matches, including a 0-1 against Manchester City when Jonjo Shelvey passed the ball to the City keeper from kick off, a thrilling 0-0 with Bristol City and a 6-2 thrashing of Norwich. The life of an overseas Toon fan makes every trip to St James’ a privilege, and even though I was forced to watch the Leeds game in our first Premier League season through the window of the outside broadcast van in the stadium car park in Baltic conditions, I’ve had some good fortune in the ticket lottery.
Thanks for reading. It was an exciting afternoon at St James’ Park, for sure! Get on the stadium tour, I’m already looking forward to my next. Howay the lads!
A good dramatic intro.
If they’d known you are an ultra, you’d probably be in a cell.