That Newcastle United Podcast with Taylor and Besty header image 1

That Newcastle United Podcast with Taylor and Besty


My Favourite World Cup Goal - Ryan Adams

Ex Arsenal, Barcelona and then Feyernoord left back Giovanni Van Bronkhorst was not renowned for his goalscoring, so when he unleashed this 40 yard screamer it was a surprise. It was the semi final of the World Cup 2010 against Uruguay and Van Bronkhorst's penultimate game as a professional and the game was only 18 minutes old when Van Bommel found the left back in space. As I said, the then 35 year old left back was not known for his goalscoring so what was to come was unbelievable. As everyone expected a deep cross towards Van Persie, the dutch skipper wound up an absolute thunderbolt of a shot into the far corner leaving Uruguayan keeper Muslera with no chance (even though he got close) and sent the dutch on there way to the final which they went on to lose vs Spain.


My Favourite World Cup Goal - Ben Spratt

He might have just joined Aston Villa, but Joe Cole used to be really good. He was really good at not getting a game for Chelsea, he was really good at being played out of position for England, and – for a couple of seconds in Cologne, on June 20, 2006 – he was really good at 30-yard volleys. This was the big crescendo for Sven Goran Eriksson’s “Golden Generation”, captained by David “Golden Balls” Beckham himself. This was rotating goalkeepers, this was heightened expectations, this was endless arguments about Steven Gerrard and Frank Lampard, this was a 4-4-2 with no left winger. With Gerrard and Lampard both starting the World Cup’s opening two games – wins against Paraguay and Trinidad & Tobago – it was three-foot-nothing, right-footed, single-speed Cole who was moved out to the cursed left side. A position that Stewart Downing, Gareth Barry, Emile Heskey and Geordie boy Alan Thompson had all failed to make their own; but that summer it belonged to the diminutive Londoner. Despite the consecutive victories, England still needed a point against Sweden in their final group game to finish above Lars Lagerback’s side and so avoid host nation Germany – a country that experience tells us are probably worth avoiding. Wayne Rooney was back and Owen Hargreaves had impressed enough to earn a starting spot, so Peter Crouch and Gerrard dropped to the bench. (Before I carry on, Steven Gerrard was on the bench.) Rooney and Michael Owen – this really was the golden generation. For 60 seconds. Then £16 million’s worth of Newcastle United striking talent is lying sprawled on the pitch. For club and country, a blow. Anyway, onto the goal. The red-clad Englishmen had taken a while to get going following Owen’s injury, but after a couple of decent openings via Cole and Rooney, the Chelsea man decided he fancied a World Cup memento. A Swedish defender nodded the ball out of his area and looked quite content with himself as he jogged towards the 18-yard line. Not for long. The ball fell to Cole somewhere on the other side of the Atlantic, and he thwacked it – like, properly thwacked it – on the volley and it flew in off the far post. Andres Isaksson got a hand on the strike, but only succeeded in improving the spectacle. Top corner, 1-0 England, piece of piss. As it happened, the Swedes emerged with a 2-2 draw, but that was enough to secure the Three Lions safe passage to a second-round meeting with Ecuador. Of course it all mattered little when – in the quarter-final against Portugal – Rooney stamped on Ricardo Carvalho’s bollocks, Beckham went off injured and England went out on penalties. But in a tournament where only he and Hargreaves emerged with any real credit, Cole had provided a stand-out moment. And what a moment.

Cheers, Ben


My Favourite World Cup Goal - Bill Edgar

Torsten Frings: Germany vs. Costa Rica (FIFA World Cup 2006)

The 2006 World Cup finals was the second time in 32 years Germany had hosted the World Cup. Could they repeat the heroics of ‘74 and win the trophy for a second time on their own turf? (They won it at Italia ’90 but that’s a different story).

Germany went into the tournament with high aspirations, there may have been some rumoured unrest in the camp but no players were showing any signs of discord. The team had a home advantage, which they could use to full effect at times when the most needed it. Anticipation grew and more supporters believed that Jürgen Klinsmann’s side could be set to win the World Cup for a third time. Maybe, just maybe.

The match was a perfect way to kick-start the tournament, the hosts playing in front of 66,000 fans at the Allianz Arena against American’s Costa Rica in their third World Cup. The away team surprised the German’s with two goals and threatened in spells throughout the match. Previously in the first half, right back Philip Lahm had curled in a spectacular effort from the edge of the box. Scoring a goal that no keeper in the world could have saved. A perfect start to what should be an exciting tournament.

Anything you can do I can do better was Torsten Frings’ answer to Lahm’s early strike. The game had settled down at 3-2 and looked to stay that way, until the Germans were awarded a free kick in a reasonable crossing distance for a player to head into the back of the net. Bastian Schweinsteiger however, had other ideas. Centre midfielder Torsten Frings was unmarked and received the ball from the 21-year-old winger, without even taking a touch, the midfielder sends a rocket flying into the top corner. This sixth goal of the game bettered Lahm’s first half strike and already staked its claim for ‘goal of the tournament’, one game in.

Torsten Fings had brought Munich to its feet in its entirety, this goal was a benchmark for the rest of the tournament with even better goals to follow however this one stays with me the most. The sheer power and precision of the shot left my 9-year-old self in shock. What a hit.



My Favourite World Cup Goal - Matty Shite Seats

David Platt – Italia 90 - Belgium – Round Of 16

Whilst I was only a mere 6 years of age, Italia 90 was my first real memory of the existence of THE beautiful game. 

I can’t remember many goals, or games from actually during the World Cup but can recall my Dad getting excited during the summer holidays as we slowly made our way through the group stages.  A few people with union jack style bunting in the street.

Into the second ‘phase’ and we were up against Belgium. 

My dad sat in his red velvet chair, little bottle of beer and ready to go. 

On comes Bobby Robson on the old TV (one of those wooden surround ones), father with a wry smile and telling me “he’s from up here son”.

I can’t remember much from the match.

I was probably too busy putting stickers into my Italia 90 Panini album, with a little Coca Cola Italia 90 ball with the little logo on, or playing with a little Chris Waddle ‘coin’ you got from the Esso Garage up the road.

All of a sudden my dad yelled at the top of his voice (I probably got a fright at this point) ‘Come on Gazza sunna!’ – I looked up and Gazza had just been fouled after a deft turn and a mazy run. 

Time was ticking on.

The free kick was dinked beautifully by Gazza towards the far post and Platt turned the ball in with a delightful over the shoulder volley. 

I can still see Lineker smiling back towards the cameras as he piled on top of the rest of the players in celebration and then the camera cutting to Bobby doing his little dance down the touchline!

My Dad jumping around like a loon and him getting wrong off my mother…which of course to a 6 year old was hilarious. 

Peep peep.  Full time after extra time.

My dad picked me up, hoyed me up in the air, over his shoulders and said “You know Son, we could bloody do this…”

“Do what?” was my innocent reply.

“Win the World Cup of course ya daft sod!”

If only.

Twitter @mattypnufc

Goal -

Match Report -


My Favourite World Cup Goal - Paul ‘Robbo’ Robson

Manuel Negrete – June 15th 1986 (Mexico v Bulgaria)

The date was June 1986, the country was Mexico and the World Cup Group stages were over. Mexico had beaten Belgium, drew with Paraguay and beaten debutants Iraq and had qualified for the round of 16 in front of 328,363 people at the Azteca Stadium. The country was at fever pitch heading into game 37 – the first game of the last 16 stage. The opponents on the 15th June were Bulgaria who had come through as one of the best 3rd place teams in Group A alongside Italy and Argentina.

The date was 15th June 1986 kick off was midday, 114,580 people crammed into the Azteca for the next trip on Mexicos World Cup journey. The Mexicans started favourites and started briskly as they played up to their fans and the worldwide media, up front for them was much loved Hugo Sanchez who was well known in Europe for his exploits in Spain, the U.N.A.M striker Manuel Negrete and Javier Aguirre from Atlante.

On the 35th minute with the game still at 0-0, Negrete receives a long ball, controls this on the volley, then with the ball about 25 yards out flicks it out to Aguirre who volleys it back in a classic 1-2 triangular motion to Negrete who heads towards the edge of the Bulgarian box, bypassing the man, then in a moment of genius fires in a classic side on scissor kick to keeper Mikhailovs bottom left hand corner, causing the Mexican crowd to go wild, followed by the standard commentator reaction of GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLL.

The Mexican team went onto dominate the game winning 2-0 with Defender Raul Servin scoring in the 61st minute. Mexico went into the Quarter Final to face the strong West German side but were knocked out on penalties after a 0-0 draw, with your man Negrete netting the only pen in a 4-1 defeat.

Goal Link –

Match Report -



My Favourite World Cup Goal - Jonny Gabriel

Fabio Grosso: ITALY vs. Germany (FIFA World Cup 2006)

Italy went into the 2006 FIFA World Cup under a cloud, with the Calciopoli scandal which saw Juventus relegated to Serie B and stripped of two league titles coming to light just months before the tournament in Germany was due to take place. Their opponents for the semi-final in Dortmund were the hosts, whose stock had risen throughout the tournament as more supporters believed that Jürgen Klinsmann’s side were on the verge of becoming the seventh squad to win the World Cup in their own country.

The match itself was an end to end affair, ninety minutes of high adrenaline football as two powerhouses of world and European football looked to reach the World Cup final to face either France or Portugal. Although both sides created good opportunities, the game remained goalless and head into extra time where the teams still couldn’t be separated and the match looked to be heading to a penalty shoot-out.

Perhaps wary of the Germans’ excellent record from twelve yards the Italians continued to push to the very end of the extra period, and won a corner following Andrea Pirlo’s shot from distance. The corner, taken by Alessandro Del Piero, was cleared by Arne Friedrich only to land at the feet of Pirlo, who then did what the midfielder does and slotted the ball perfectly through the German defence without even looking and onto the left foot of full back Fabio Grosso.

Grosso, wearing the Azzurri’s number 3 shirt made famous by the legendary Paolo Maldini, hit the ball first time with the inside of his left foot and watched on as it curled perfectly around Michael Ballack and Philipp Lahm and into the far corner of the goal, out of the reach of Germany goalkeeper Jens Lehmann. As soon as the ball hit the net the Palermo defender was off, his celebration reminiscent of fellow countryman Marco Tardelli’s, after scoring in the 1982 World Cup final.

The Italians would go on to win their first World Cup since Tardelli, along with Paolo Rossi and Alessandro Altobelli, found the net in Madrid, defeating France in the final after a penalty shoot-out.

And the scorer of the winning penalty that night in Berlin? One Fabio Grosso.



It Tastes Like Pele’s Cock…

Pray silence please ladies and gents for the very first Taylor and Besty World Cup Podcast with True Faith and Phoenix taxis! This is a bit of a preview show with hints of nostalgia, swearing, live Panini sticker openings, memories, regrets, spider bites and classic World Cup songs. It's a big old girl coming in just past the 1 hour 45min mark, so stand back, light your pipe and settle in. T&B xx


Bulls Knackers and Birra Moretti

Check yourself rasclarts, it's a new proper fucking massive episode of the True Faith Podcast and it's our end of season retrospective. We chew over what has been a season of topsy turvy bollocks with True Faith Editor and resident gobshite Michael Martin, sip some Italian lager and genrally talk nonsense for and hour and a half. Please listen to the end as you will be rewarded with the brilliant north east band SHIELDS and their track Turning Corners. Check them out here...

Peas and gloves and see you in a bit T&B xx 

Battlestar Sciatica

Evening ruffians, well we've had a couple of weeks off, but we've both been dead busy and that. So because you've been good here's a new TF Podcast. We look back at the Cardiff game, those protests, Pardew's behaviour and a load of irrelevant and pointless podcast points. Enjoy shitstains xxx


Pissed On By A Toddler

Evening all. I trust we find you all in a similar mood with regards to our football teams recent exploits, but fear not, dear listeners, it's not all darkness. Sit back, relax and touch yourself in a place you shouldn't, it's a new True Faith Podcast (Sponsored By Phoenix Taxis, Blyth). Love and shit T&B xx


Touch Me You Crack Whore

Evening all. How are you keeping. A bronzed Besty returns from the tropics to regale us with tales of living like a king in Cuba. We also had a chat about the Palace and Everton games and got stuck into a good 45 mins worth of podcast points from twitter. Settle in, we've been away for 3 weeks, so this is a bit of a bumper episode. xx


My First Taste of Newcastle United

  I've wanted to write this piece for a long time but there's always been something else to take my attention, stopping me from getting these words onto a page.  As an inherently lazy person, I've put off all kinds of things until it's almost too late, losing out on a few good opportunities in the process, leaving me desperate to chronicle one particular day in my life before the time elapsed between that day and the present day has rendered the memories so fuzzy that it would be impossible to recount it in any kind of detail.  The day in question was Saturday 15th of August 1992, I was 10 years old and this was the first time I would have any kind of experience of Newcastle United Football Club.

My Dad is a Sunderland fan. Yes, that's right, a proper dirty red and white Mackem. Only he's not. He's just my Dad. In 1984 he decided that, at the age of 2 years old, he'd take me to St James' Park to say farewell to Kevin Keegan, a player who was a hero of my Dad's from his time at the team my Dad secretly always wished he'd supported instead of Sunderland, Liverpool.  Obviously I have no recollection of the event, but I'm assured by the old man himself that I was there and a recently found ticket and programme in a shoe box at my parents house would suggest he isn't telling porkies. 
My Dad didn't shove Sunderland down my throat as a kid and for that I'm eternally thankful, but he recognised my love for the game, bought me my first boots (Gola mouldies) and a Mitre Delta Cosmic ball. He encouraged me to follow England as, in his wisdom, you'd only get disappointed every 2 years instead of every other week. So aged 6 I entered into a life of pretending to be Gary Lineker, scoring 2 yard tap ins with balled up socks on the landing of our Jarrow council house. In 1990 he decided to take me to Roker Park to see Sunderland play Bournemouth in the pissing down rain. The score was 3-2 to the home side and I rushed home to continue sorting through the swapsie pile for my Italia 90 sticker collection. I never did shift that Paul Parker sticker.

Sunderland was all well and good but I was left cold both literally and emotionally that day. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy the experience, at that age your Dad is still your hero and any kind of day out with him is a great day, I just didn't get that buzz that I got from a foil Colombia badge or another Trevor Steven swapsie. That would hold some power in the playground come dinner time.

I remember crying when England went out of Italia 90. Even at 8 years old it hurt. It hurt more then anything I'd experienced in my life until that point, including the time Jonathan Connor pushed me off my moving bike in the park.  Football wasn't just a game we played on the field next to the corner shops, it was the thing which infiltrated my every waking hour to the point where my teachers became worried that I was falling behind in my development at school.

My best mate, Stephen "Besty" Best, who was also my cousin and happens to still hold both of those auspicious titles, was a huge Newcastle fan. Massive. At the age of 6 or 7 he was going to games regularly, had replica kits, a junior magpies card and didn't really understand why I idolised Bryan Robson so much. His giant fireman of a Dad, my Uncle Steve, had threatened to take me to Newcastle a few times, however, I think the very real threat of relegation in the 91/92 season stopped him from subjecting another young mind to that kind of life. 

As the dawn of the 92/93 season rolled round Uncle Steve said, if it was ok with my Dad, that he'd take myself and Steve Junior to the opening game of the new campaign against Southend United. Thankfully my Dad agreed and even gave us a lift into town that day in his new red Diesel Fiat Uno, a car so loud that you could hear it coming from around half a mile away.  It was August in the North East of England so obviously it was absolutely tipping down with rain and the Uno's windows had steamed up making it impossible to tell where we were from my viewpoint on the back seat. My Dad dropped us off near the old Gallowgate bus station and we walked into the deluge up towards Strawberry place. Hotdogs and burgers were bought and consumed in the rain along with a match programme, the cover of which had a photo of Brian Kilcline from a pre season friendly at York City, resplendent in Black and White barcode stripes with the iconic blue star on his chest.  The programme from that day was almost completely destroyed due to the rain and my Mam eventually threw it in the bin, claiming that it stunk. As a giddy 30 year old man-child I found one on eBay and have kept it pristine since it was delivered. One thing missing from the eBay programme would be the signature of David Kelly, Newcastle United's Irish striker.  We bumped into "Ned" getting out of his car at St James' Park and he gladly stopped in the rain and signed 20 or 30 autographs for the waiting fans.  As I handed him the programme to sign he glanced down then back up and said "You're spilling your drink" as I accidentally poured a can of Schweppes Lemonade down my trouser leg. I was star struck.

The air of expectancy around Newcastle at the time was probably quite misguided looking back. The team had narrowly avoided relegation the previous season but this, coupled with the torrential horizontal rain, did little to keep away the Geordie faithful. 28,545 of them turned out that day and the attendance surpassed that of many of the games played on that saturday, the very first day of the newly formed Premier League. I paid £4.50 to get in and we were ushered through the turnstiles ahead of my Uncle Steve and down to the front of the Milburn Paddocks close to the corner with the adjoining Gallowgate end.  Looking to my right, the Gallowgate was already pulsating with fans a good 40 mins before kick off.  I scanned the stand, taking in the different sights.  The old scoreboard, the pylon style floodlights, now sadly missing from most grounds, Dads hoisting kids onto the concrete crush barriers in front of them while all around people talked, laughed, sang and waited to greet their team.  Even before kick off the buzz of St James' Park had me excitably shifting my weight between my feet, something which I still do to this day when taking my position at the match. I remember looking down and noticing a steady stream of brown dirty water running from left to right at the front of the paddocks right over my new Nike Air trainers which I'd only acquired after a long protracted negotiation with my Mam, the likes of which the UN would be proud of.  I told myself that it was rain water mixed with bovril and the like, but I knew, even at 10 year old, there was probably a good old helping of man piss in that stream.

After what seemed like an eternity the game started and it went off at one hell of a pace. Newcastle flew out of the traps and I craned my neck to see the action at the Leazes end that they were attacking. At this point Newcastle were still "they" but within about 5 minutes that would be changed to "we".  As I scan my memory for the details of what happened next I have a number of very vivid images... 

...Newcastle attack and a chance is missed, or was it a save, I couldn't tell you because I didn't see it due to the big lad on my left leaning forward.  What I can tell you about is the noise I heard.  Like 17 jumbo jets taking off, it swelled to a roar like nothing I ever heard. I didn't have much hair around my body at that age, but what I had stood on end instantly.  As the resulting corner came in, Besty, who was standing on my right, dropped the pie he was attempting to shovel into his mouth and was looking down at it hitting the floor. I still can't see the action, but suddenly, the big lad to my left moves back and I see the ball roll out to Paul Bracewell.
He hit the ball first time like a rocket. It leaves his left foot and flies straight down my line of vision away from him and into the top right corner of the net. I still think it's the hardest a ball has ever been kicked and videos of the action show that the Tyne Tees camera man couldn't keep up with it. The noise again, but this time different. Louder again, a huge release of emotion and passion as people jump and fall and punch the air.  Besty didn't see this goal until he was 30 years old and that pie was ruined.

It's still my favourite moment as Newcastle fan and after only ten minutes of my first ever game, I could say I most definitely was a fan of Newcastle United.  WE were flying and the attacks came in waves until poor old Spencer Prior shanked Lee Clark's cross shot into his own net. The whole ground erupts again and I fall ever more helplessly in love.  2-0 at half time and looking comfortable, I remember taking out my soggy programme and looking at the back page. I read down the list of names in the Newcastle Squad a few catching my eye...Clark...Bracewell...Peacock...Beresford...Kilcline and of course the name of the man who's signature adorned my soaked programme, David Kelly.  Over the season I grew to idolise him in the way I had Lineker and Robson before and his attitude, work ethic and goalscoring ability made him my firm favourite. In an interview with Terry McDermott he claimed that Kelly would happily "chase a toffee wrapper all over the pitch". 

After conceding a scrappy goal in the second half, shaven headed local lad, Lee Clark, popped up in front of the Gallowgate. He beat his man, steadied himself and poked the ball between the legs of the keeper before running off to celebrate. I was delirious. I didn't care that I was soaked through to my underpants or that my Mam was probably going to go ape shit at the state of my new trainers, I was hooked.  A late goal from Southend made the final score 3-2 and I remember leaving the ground with the songs and the noise still ringing in my ears.  I was in, I was a lifer, another young mind lost to the highs and lows of following the most frustrating team in football.  That Christmas I asked my Mam for a Newcastle United shirt.  She couldn't find one anywhere, they were entirely sold out. She was devastated and bought me an official Umbro tracksuit, just like the players wore in training and before the games.  I loved it, and wore it all day Christmas day while my Dad bristled, making me eat my Christmas dinner off my knee while sitting on the stairs. 

Visit and check out #BlogToLisbon on Twitter

Taylor Payne 



Stevie Pist Fumps

Hello again, how are you? Nice blouse. Here's another True Faith Podcast for your lug holes. We chew over the Spurs and Villa games in our usual non expert way, plug some nice retro shirts and answer that long asked question, "Which NUFC player is most scared of wasps?"

Peas and Gloves muthafuckers xx

True Faith Podcast Special - Rob Lee

We recently spent an evening in the company of a true Newcastle United hero. Rob Lee was part of our most successful era in recent times and this podcast is a special 90 min episode looking back at his career, talking about nufc at the moment and generally shooting the breeze. Enjoy T&B xx

This episode's outro music come courtesy of fabulous South Shields tunesmiths, Arbeia. Check them out here...
Twitter: @arbeia_

He fucking came, he fucking saw, he fucking fucked off…

Ding dong, the wanker's gone. It's a new True Faith Podcast up in your shit and ths time round we have toffee voiced scribe, George Caulkin, from that newsapaper and man on the edge, Michael Martin from TF. Settle in, it's not as dark as you'd expect...

This episodes outro comes from the marvellous, Boy Jumps Ship and is entitled 
"Better Days"
Check them out here