Reflections on life as a Magpie fanatic
The prolific vet was thinking of one of the characters of his beloved Yorkshire Dales, but he might as well have been talking about Billy Costine.
Last Thursday evening in Waterford, the Bus Éireann driver launched his book, The Flight Of A Magpie, which mixes memories of his life with his long-time obsession: Newcastle United.
There was a fine crowd in the Granville Hotel for the launch, with flat Waterford accents lapping like waves over the Geordie blare of some of the visitors.
Bob Moncur, goalscoring hero of Newcastle United’s last trophy win, the Fairs Cup back in 1969, attended, as did John Delaney of the FAI.
Costine’s long career in junior soccer in the south-east meant a good many colleagues turned out, while the devotion to black and white stripes didn’t exclude followers of other clubs.
For proof, there was a man present with the Tottenham Hotspur crest tattooed on his calf muscle; another man in the congregation is so close to Manchester United that his son still plays for them.
John O’Shea himself wasn’t there, but if Billy Costine had felt he was needed, there would have been no point resisting.
“I rang Bob (Moncur) about coming over and he said, ‘for you, Billy, I’ll be there’,” said Costine “I’m a determined man. When I put my mind to something I don’t let go.”
If it were Liverpool, or Manchester United, or any of the big battalions, then it would be difficult to raise any enthusiasm for this kind of project, frankly. A litany of successes doesn’t lend itself to good reading, never mind good writing.
But Newcastle United? Costine, whose father hailed from Cloyne and was a good friend of Christy Ring, fixated on the men from the Toon at a young age. His older brother brought home a Subbuteo game (for younger readers, think of a more static, 3D version of the Xbox; for older readers, remember ‘flick to kick’ and bore the younger readers).
Among the teams available were a side in black and white vertical stripes. The youngster took a shine to them and almost 50 years later, still regularly visits St James’ Park and has met all the Newcastle greats (even when casting around for a team to play for in Waterford, Costine fell in with Tycor Athletic, on account of their black and white colours). The photographs in the book tell their own story. Names like Mirandinha and Willie McFaul will probably be familiar to 80s anoraks or Newcastle diehards only, but the latter-day names — Bobby Robson, Kenny Dalglish — are also present, mostly in traditional accepting-presentation mode.
Costine’s book tracks his determination to meet his sporting heroes, most of whom come across well: the encounter with Robson, for instance, shows the late manager in full avuncular mode. The encounter with Mark Lawrenson shows off Costine’s brand of polite directness.
The Waterford man tells the former Ireland defender that he and Alan Hansen were the two best centre-halves Liverpool ever had, Lawrenson breezily replies that he gets that a lot, only for Costine to blandly offer that he’s not a Liverpool fan, just giving credit where it’s due.
(Another former Ireland and Liverpool star, Waterford man Jim Beglin, emerges in the book as kind and unassuming when asked to show his league medal to Costine’s son). Last Thursday evening was the culmination of seven years hard work for Billy Costine, and it was good to see more than 200 people show up to wish him well.
The formalities ran smoothly — Bob Moncur proved a seasoned pro with the microphone in hand, rattling out snappy tales of the likes of Joe Harvey, the Newcastle manager of the 60s.
Costine spoke briefly on what was clearly an emotional evening for him. He had plenty of support from an audience in which the black and white colours were much in evidence, and once the few speeches were done, the party rolled on.
At the back of the hall, your reporter was leafing through the book when he happened upon an account of a visit Costine made to Newcastle when John Anderson, a defender who usually had the words ‘teak-tough’ surgically attached to mentions of his name, collected him from the airport, put him up in his (Anderson’s) house, and brought him to a home game at St James’ Park, which Newcastle drew 2-2 with Liverpool, then at their peak.
A few days later Anderson posted the jersey he wore in that game to Costine in Waterford. “I’m going to be laid out and buried in Ando’s jersey,” says Costine.
Herriot was right. There’s nothing like an irresistible fanatic.
