I had spent most of my life expecting to die without seeingNewcastle Unitedlift a trophy.
I still suspected I might.
But of course, I had seen all this before - just not like this.
Every year I know its the only trophy Ill see us lift.
Except not this year.
And then I thought about all of the times Ihadseen them win.
Titus Bramble alongside Thierry Henry.
Jonjo Shelvey with Luka Modric.
Leon Best next to Paolo Maldini.
It all felt like a power fantasy on the same level as saving the galaxy inMass Effect.
The same kind of impossible dream.
It was the first time wed seen gameplay forAssassins Creed Shadows, and it looked thoroughly okay.
I just dont get why they care so much.
I turned to him and said I do.
Sandro Tonali, our midfield maestro, a debt of gratitude repaid tenfold after his long ban-enforced absence?
Harvey Barnes, deputising for the suspended Anthony Gordon with a point to prove?
Joelinton, dotting the is and crossing the ts on a redemption arc that has long since been complete?
I hadnt even gone into the game wanting us to win.
That seemed too greedy, too out of reach.
I would have settled for turning up.
All I wanted this time was to feel like we belonged.
But I still wanted that goal.
In the end I settled on Dan Burn, the Geordie of our starting XI.
He was never going to score, but then, we were never going to win.
We dont do quiet?
We dont do beating Liverpool.
We dont do trophies.
But then suddenly, we did.
He was born in Blyth, but he was made at Wembley.
As an adult, it became bittersweet.
A synthetic substitute with a foul aftertaste, a reminder of what I could never have.
Now I have tasted the real thing, and its so much better than I ever could have imagined.
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