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That Ruud Gullit once informed us pukka derbies are exclusively between two clubs residing in the same city shows how much he understood Geordie culture.

This man had the audacity to utter such drivel when he was actually manager of Newcastle United.

Let him hang his head in shame. With that sort of clear thinking it is little wonder Gullit never made a fist of it at St James’ Park.

Instead, perhaps appropriately, the man used his team sheet for a St James’ Park derby that obviously didn’t matter as his suicide note.

We remember it well don’t we? Gullit banished Alan Shearer and Duncan Ferguson to his subs’ bench, inevitably lost to Sunderland, and fell on his sword.

A ruddy marvellous footballer, truly world class, who never understood the hotbed of a passionate city.

Tyne-Wear derbies have existed since Christmas Eve, 1898, when United won 3-2 at Sunderland. Same result tomorrow would do, if the Mackems can score twice.

Five matches later and we had our first controversy. The derby that never was, on Good Friday, 1901.

If every Tyne-Wear clash is a barrel of dynamite then this one had the fuse already lit. A public holiday coupled with fine weather and inadequate policing led to the Battle of Gallowgate.

At a time when attendances were around the 12,000 mark nearly 70,000 people advanced on St James’ Park like a human tidal wave of black, white and red rosettes. From every direction they came in horse-drawn brake, on foot, and by rail.

Officials, gatemen and police did their best to hold them back but, hopelessly outnumbered, they were finally overrun. Palings were smashed to the ground as the fans stormed forward and the pressure became so intense that thousands invaded the pitch in fear of being trampled to death.

Telegraph poles and trees were climbed for a better view. Others ventured on to the roof of the directors’ stand and even on top of the frail press box.

As kick-off time approached it was estimated that more than 5,000 had fought their way on to the pitch. Behind-the-scenes hurried conferences were held and it was decided to turn out the teams and see what happened. First came Sunderland fighting their way through the mob only to turn tail and dive for the safety of the dressing-room. Then came the explosion. “The match is off,” declared referee Mr Stott.

Within seconds free fights were raging among rival fans. Flags were torn down, goalposts uprooted and palings brandished as weapons. Every available policeman in the city was rushed to Gallowgate as ambulances ran a shuttle service taking the injured to hospital.

And amid all the chaos the gambles took over. Pitch and toss schools were dotted over the ground with money rapidly changed hands. The fact that it was against the law didn’t matter a bit.

The pitch was like a ploughed field by the time the police, batons drawn, had charged enough times to clear the arguing fans on to the streets.

A few days after the derby fiasco a large piece of the Gallowgate goal net hung proudly in a barber’s shop not far from the ground – a souvenir of the derby that never was.

If nought like that has ever been repeated there have been eyebrow-raisers when battle has taken place over an hour and a half.

Can you imagine, for example, Newcastle losing 9-1 at home to Sunderland (a record) and then unbelievably going on to lift the championship of England?

No, me neither. I can’t visualise the Mags leaking nine to the auld enemy at St James’ Park – and certainly not winning the Premier League title!

Yet that happened in season 1908-09.

The nearest Newcastle have come to a revenge score was a 6-1 victory on Roker Park turf in 1955.

Today’s players are pampered to the extreme. They are subject to a rotation system of team selection which gives each poor tortured soul a rest and play on manicured surfaces with underground central heating to produce perfect conditions when the rest of us are in the grip of winter.

Yet in the early fifties when United were bringing home the FA Cup on a regular basis their stars performed on mudheaps with a football the weight of a medicine ball when sodden and a ploughed turnip field for their carpet.

Yet Wor Jackie and his marauders went to Sunderland on Boxing Day, won 6-1, and came back to St James’ Park the following afternoon to win again, 3-1.

Inevitably Milburn and Vic Keeble notched, three goals each over two days.

Sunderland boss Bill Murray signed Burnley’s centre-forward between the two matches 24 hours apart, played him at SJP, but it made not a jot of difference. Again such a last-minute signing couldn’t be done now over Christmas.

Of more recent times we all have our special memories.

Mine include John McNamee swinging on the crossbar after heading United level 3-3 at Roker Park, Liam O’Brien’s bend-it-like-Beckham free-kick on the same soil that won it for Kevin Keegan’s Entertainers, Alan Shearer’s goodbye match when he scored the 206th goal of a fabulous Newcastle career at the Stadium of Light, and the 5-1 destruction of poor old Steve Bruce with Kevin Nolan a hat-trick hero.

By the way, can you remember for what else Shearer’s final match will go down into derby history?

Michael Chopra’s equaliser was timed at 13 seconds after coming on and is the fastest goal by a sub in Tyne-Wear derbies.

More than a few might also remember Chops bottling scoring in Sunderland colours at St James’ a little later on!

For me perhaps the blue ribbon goes to 5-1 even though I was sitting about 25 yards behind Bruce, an old Geordie friend, and could see the humiliation biting into his very soul.

Funnily enough, neither manager was to last long.

A second derby defeat shortly afterwards, this time at home, did for Bruce, while Chris Hughton was savagely butchered within the blink of an eye.

Sunderland had made the short trip over the Tyne Bridge unbeaten in seven matches but a Nolan treble and two from Sunderland’s great slayer Shola Ameobi did for them. And to add to red-and-white agony Titus Bramble, once of this parish, was sent off. He had been terrorised by Shola and took out his frustration on Andy Carroll.

It is said Nolan does nowt but score. Well, that’s not a bad trait, is it?

Ah, derbies are wondrous things...when your team wins. Roll on tomorrow and the result all here crave.