For the nihilistic helicopter pilot in Apocalypse Now there is nothing quite like the smell of napalm in the morning, but for sports reporters there is nothing quite like the scent of a local derby to get the pulse racing.
Of course, if Sunderland win at St James’s Park for the first time in eight years on Sunday the Bigg Market may come to resemble something akin to Saigon during the Vietnam War but it would be wrong of me to suggest anyone should respond to the crushing blow of a derby defeat by smashing up their own city. No seriously, don’t, it’s not big and it’s not clever!
I know some fans from both Newcastle and Sunderland who struggle to enjoy Derby day because there is too much at stake. Others, of course, love every minute of it for precisely the same reason.
I am in the fortunate position where I can simply enjoy the occasion. Not enjoy like a corporate sponsor does quaffing sandwiches and wine in a box somewhere, or enjoy like an armchair fan whose only link with the North East is a hazy memory from a stag do back in the early nineties. No I mean enjoy as a fan of football who has a unique insight into what this game means to both sets of supporters.
Put it this way, it’s like being able to have all the fun of the fair without feeling sick after one ride too many on the waltzer and then throwing up all over your new shoes!
Like most jobs, I sometimes moan about being a sports writer, particularly around Christmas time when everyone else is enjoying some family time or when I’m sent to Forest Green Rovers in Gloucestershire for a Sunderland pre-season friendly the weekend after I’ve returned home from the World Cup in Germany.
However, it is days like Sunday that make me appreciate just how lucky I am. In fact, if any of you happen to be milling around outside SJP on Sunday morning you may find me skipping up the hill in excitement. On second thoughts, having read that back to myself, you may find me walking up the hill with an extra spring in my step, that’s all. I don’t skip anywhere, honest!
I’m actually quite relieved that both Newcastle and Sunderland have eased their relegation fears this month. While a relegation six pointer would have added to the excitement, when there is so much at stake in one game they tend to be horrible spectacles. I mean, when was the last time you saw an exciting final?
Instead, both sets of supporters can just concentrate on (verbally) abusing each other for 90 minutes and the players can concentrate on trying to win the game without living with the fear of knowing that a defeat might not just mean humiliation next time they pop to the shops, it might also mean trips to Blackpool and Cardiff City next season.
I’m also looking forward to studying Roy Keane’s face as 50,000 Geordies break into their first chant of “Keano, he w**** his dog, Keano�!
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