Five Live! - The Geordie Master Class of ‘96

Newcastle United 5 - 0 Manchester United, October 20th 1996

By Oliver Sparrow, writing from London

How strange that a match in which the team I have supported since I was a nipper got thoroughly thrashed is the one that I remember the most. So ingrained in my memory are the events of that fateful game that I remember them vividly to this day.

I was nine years old and this was to be my first taste of away-day Premier League action. What better venue than the magnificent St. James’ Park? In those days the stadium name wasn’t preceded by ‘SportsDirect@’ and their shirts weren’t adorned with the name of a failed building society. This was the proper Newcastle. The mighty Newcastle who could financially outmuscle Fergie’s Reds to the signing of Alan Shearer and challenge for the title, whose granddad-collared shirts were emblazoned with the famed elixir of the North-East – Newcastle Brown Ale.

And there was I – a wee bairn holding his father’s hand, wearing the floppy-collared red tunic of his beloved Manchester - an insignificant scarlet speck engulfed by the endless swarm of black and white. We stopped to admire the towering white stanchions, like a miniature anchored ship buffeted by the waves of an impending storm. Those angular white monoliths still pierce my dreams as I drift merrily into the sea of sleep.