"The one I remember, still, was the first goal Ivor Allchurch scored on his debut," says Alan Smith as we revisit a time long gone. Sitting on the sofa in the front room of his home in Forest Hall, the memory rolls off the tongue with familiarity. "He took the ball from inside the other half, came up to the Leazes End and shot from about 25 yards out. It went right into the roof of the net. That was the best goal I've seen. It comes back to me every time as the goal."
Alan is 80 now. He was born in Alnwick but moved to Benton in 1953, when his father got a job on the railway at Gateshead. He began watching the odd Newcastle United match when he first left school and it soon developed into a lifelong passion. His first season ticket was in the East Stand, while it was still a paddock, and he has stood or sat pretty much everywhere since. He is reminiscing about cup finals, Keegan, Macdonald and Jimmy Scoular – "he'd kick anything above grass" – when the doorbell rings.
"Come in, sir," says Alan as his friend, Don Williamson, enters and joins the conversation. Don is "94 and a bit" but doesn’t look it. He has been going to St. James' Park since 1945, save for a decade or so spent in Lancashire. As a teenager, Don watched the record 13-0 win over Newport County. He remembers Frank Brennan, Len Shackleton, the great Jackie Milburn. "I'd have to say Milburn was the most exciting player I've ever seen,” he says softly. "I don't think he was the best footballer, but I think he was the most exciting. He was fast, he chased every ball, he was the most two-footed player I've ever seen – and he had a shot in him."
Alan and Don are a terrific double act. There is so much warmth in the room as they share a laugh at the memory of Don’s son cheering for the wrong team during Macdonald’s debut against Liverpool, the pies at the Haymarket Hotel, and the old pitchside vendors – with their baskets full of twisted bags – who would throw peanuts up the stand for a few pennies. They met through Don's nephew and soon began enjoying a drink together at the Forest Hall Constitutional and Unionist Club, where Alan has spent the last 40 years as secretary and then president. When Don's wife passed away, Alan took it upon himself to make sure Don was looked after, and he became a club member.
They have been going to the match together since 2016. It takes Alan a bit longer to walk to the bus stop at the top of his street now, so sometimes they'll park at Four Lane Ends and get the Metro. Alan followed Don from the Leazes End to the East Stand, where Don's nephew would join them and, slowly, they migrated down the stand to the lower tier. They like to get in nice and early, take in the warm-ups and Wor Flags' displays. "That was pure theatre against Everton," says Don, and Alan nods in agreement. "I thought that was absolutely fantastic."
The game against Tottenham Hotspur on Sunday, 17th October 2021 felt different to the norm. It was Newcastle's first match under new ownership. The week before, Alan's son Paul had called to say that, finally, the takeover looked like it was on. "We're a bit long in the tooth to expect something to happen straight away," he says. "It was euphoric," Don adds. "We went to the match in expectation, didn't we?"
It was the usual routine, bar that unfamiliar injection of hope. They took the bus. "I can remember the game, up to when it went 1-1. We scored the first goal – it was a good goal as well – then it went back to normal procedure," laughs Alan. A Callum Wilson header had given Newcastle the lead in the second minute. "I wasn't getting excited – don't get us wrong. I'm not one to get overexcited."
I suggest that the next part might be difficult to talk about. "I don't think there's anything difficult about it." Really? "Yeah," says Alan. "I just laugh about it. I'm grateful to be alive. I still love life. That was just something that went wrong."
Opposite him, Don is smiling. "And now he walks at the same speed as me."
Alan, left, and Don in their seats at St. James' Park
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Save for an early interest in the Liverpool team of Rush, Barnes and Grobbelaar, Marianne Walton has always followed Newcastle United. It took hold when Kevin Keegan returned as manager in 1992. She became a Junior Magpie and when the club was floated on the stock market five years later, a picture of her and her friend releasing balloons made the front page of the Chronicle. "I've still got it at home," she smiles.
She always wanted to be a paramedic and began working for the North East Ambulance Service (NEAS) when she was 19. Over the last 21 years she has seen plenty of change, both on the frontline and in management, and is now their emergency preparedness resilience and response manager, as well as being match commander at the Magpies' home games. Emotions are usually kept in check but she has had the odd rebuke over the radio, "especially after Tioté's equaliser against Arsenal. I got a very stern telling off," she admits. "You couldn't help but celebrate."
Marianne took over as match commander – a role which involves working in the control room alongside the club, stewarding companies, St John Ambulance and police – at the start of the 2021/22 season. She has to ensure NEAS' staff are briefed and with equipment and liaise with club and stewards to respond to any incidents.
The medical provisions in place on a matchday at St. James’ Park are extensive. "We have four double paramedic crews, situated in the Leazes End, the South East corner, the TV gantry in the Milburn Stand and then up in Level 7," she explains. "They're there with a full range of paramedic kit, including a full range of paramedic drugs that you would get on an ambulance. Each crew has a defibrillator with them too.
"In addition to that, we have four paramedics covering the pitch – they're there for the players of both teams, to provide any immediate care. We have three vehicles for the fans, parked outside the stadium, and a vehicle for the players parked in the emergency tunnel.
"We also have four crowd doctors. These are experienced, consultant-level doctors – they are either emergency department consultants, ITU (intensive care unit) or anaesthetic consultants – and they have experience working in events as well. It's different from working in a hospital, as you don't have lots of lights, or space, so they do extra courses. There is a crowd doctor course and other major incident courses that they've all done."
The Royal Victoria Infirmary, a stone's throw from the stadium, houses one of the region's two major trauma centres. A major incident vehicle, with extra equipment and other additional supplies, is on site on matchdays. "We're also supported by St John," she adds. "They'll have in the region of 20 to 25 first aiders, plus some nurses, and also they have a commander and a forward commander – the same as us." When a request for assistance comes in, NEAS and St John will swiftly determine its nature before deciding whether to deploy first aiders or paramedics. "We work really well together, and we've done that for a number of years."
On 17th October 2021, one of Marianne's paramedic crews finished treating a patient outside the ground and were walking back to their stationed position in the South East corner when they were beckoned by shouts from the East Stand. A call for assistance came in to the control room, so Marianne radioed one of her crews – medics nine and ten. When medics nine and ten answered the call, they were already at the scene.
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"I would have probably worked it regardless – it was a weekend I was free and wanted to work," says Russell Barnard, medic nine. "But knowing it was a Spurs game made it even more interesting. I ended up seeing about seven minutes of the whole game. It was probably the busiest game I've ever worked at."
Russell, 33, is a paramedic and clinical care manager from Essex. He is also, it should be said, a Tottenham fan. He met his wife, who is from Sedgefield, in the ambulance service and moved up to the North East just over four years ago.
A couple of hours before the match Russell met his fellow crew member, 29-year-old Rebecca Napier, for the first time. A Newcastle fan, Rebecca – medic ten – has held a Gallowgate End season ticket since she was 12. "We were both bickering before the match about who was going to win and all that," she laughs. The pair got to know each other in the car as they drove in, narrowly avoiding turning onto Strawberry Place, which was closed by the time they arrived. "We ended up nearly driving through that," says Russell. "Marianne's calling us on the radio, and from then we were in the bad books. I thought, 'we're going to have to try and claw it back here – we're going to have to do something good to make up for nearly running over a massive crowd of people!'"
They were already busy by the time they finished treating a patient who had had an accident outside the ground before kick-off. Russell and Rebecca were making their way back to their position when they heard a crowd of people in the lower section of the East Stand shouting in their direction.
"Something must have happened on the pitch and I turned round to Alan, and I said, 'are you not feeling well?'" says Don. "At first, he was quite serene, really, and he sort of eased himself back in his seat and then collapsed. At that stage, I'm shouting frantically for help. There was a steward not very far away from us, and I think she heard me crying. Then there was just mayhem."
Alan had suffered a cardiac arrest. Amid the panic, two bystanders stepped up.
Ruth McDonald qualified as a nurse in 1980. She specialised in intensive care, later becoming theatre manager at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Gateshead before retiring and taking up a part-time post as a clinical nurse in procurement. She goes to the match with her husband, Davey, and over the 12 years she’s had a season ticket, they've got to know the faces around them in the East Stand.
One of those faces is Tracey Cammish. Matchdays are a family tie for Tracey; her husband and two sons all go to watch. Originally from Glasgow, she has spent 30 years in a variety of roles within the NHS – including staff nurse, ward manager and divisional manager – and also spent seven years as a resuscitation officer in London and, later, at the Sunderland Royal Hospital. But Tracey and Ruth once worked together at the QE too, so they recognised each other when Tracey got her season ticket just along from her old colleague in 2012. "We were both looking at each other," recalls Tracey. "I was going, 'I know you!' Then it clicked where I knew her from."
Ruth noticed a young supporter run down the stairs. "She came from behind us, looking really distressed. She was trying to attract the attention of one of the stewards." Soon after, the girl returned, looking more pained. "Tracey said, 'do think we should go and have a look?' I said, 'go on then'."
They found Alan lying across four seats, with another supporter performing a form of cardiac massage from the row below him. Ruth asked to take over and began CPR while Tracey felt for a pulse. "His head kept falling off the chair, so I was maintaining his head and his neck," says Tracey. "I just remember shouting, I think it was to the steward, and I did swear. I said, 'get me a ******* defib now'. The next thing I remember is the paramedics."
When Russell and Rebecca arrived, Tracey took their scissors to cut off Alan's shirt and get the defibrillator pads onto his chest. "Despite it being in the middle of a crowd of 50-odd thousand people, I've actually worked in more uncomfortable positions before," says Russell. "I've worked in bathrooms where somebody has had a cardiac arrest behind a toilet. This actually wasn't as bad – he was laid across the seats, I was at one end and Becks was at the head end, working on him from there."
"You could tell that the crowd started to realise something serious was happening, and you could see that the players had noticed something was going on"
Tracey vividly recalls her frustration at being ushered away by a steward, unaware of her medical background, before she could take over CPR from Ruth. Russell readied the defibrillator and Rebecca worked to secure his airway. At approximately 5:05pm, with play continuing on the pitch, they delivered the first shock. Rebecca, who has worked in the ambulance service for seven years, went into 'autopilot'. "It's our bread and butter, really. For a lot of people, cardiac arrests are their worst nightmare, but for our profession, it's quite a regular thing. You just learn to deal with it." At one stage, across nine shifts, she dealt with 11 cardiac arrests. "I'm above average, at the minute," she says. "That was a bad two weeks."
Time became blurred. Russell remembers looking up for a moment and realising that the match was still going on. In the control room, Marianne asked the CCTV operator to focus in on the area. She sent a forward commander down to help with preparing the vehicle and St John went to assist. Dr Tom Prichard and his friend Dr Matthew Anderson – who were sitting in the Gallowgate End – arrived, compelled to help by their medical backgrounds. One of the crowd doctors on duty, Dr Joe Cosgrove – a consultant in anaesthesia and intensive care medicine at the Freeman Hospital – made his way from his position in the Strawberry corner get an overview of the situation, provide support and organise Alan’s extrication.
Just metres away, on the pitch, almost 40 minutes had been played. Tottenham led 2-1 and Son Heung-min was getting ready to take a corner at the Gallowgate End. An anxious hum was beginning to filter around the ground and – after Sergio Reguilón, the Spurs defender, had alerted him to the pleas for help from the stand – referee Andre Marriner stopped play. "You could tell that the crowd started to realise something serious was happening, and you could see that the players had noticed something was going on," says Marianne. "It was quite obvious, and you could see the crew performing CPR. It's not nice for people to see if they haven’t seen it before, or they're not used to seeing it."
Spurs' Sergio Reguilón made referee Andre Marriner aware of the emergency
They continued to work as St. James' fell largely silent. Dr Cosgrove inserted a cannula into a vein in Alan's neck, allowing them to administer drug therapy while Dr Prichard helped with more CPR. For about 15 minutes, in the strange hush of over 50,000 people – all part of a harrowing moment, but not by choice – they fought to save his life. United's club doctor Paul Catterson made his way over from the dugout after being urged to by Eric Dier, though such was the number of medical personnel already there, his services and defibrillator weren't required.
There was more CPR and, at 5:08pm, a further shock. Three minutes later, Alan had a pulse. The priority became about ensuring his stability and getting him safely down the stairs, out of the stadium and into the waiting ambulance. "We had to keep him still, and then we were able to get the ambulance trolley to the bottom of the steps and then get a scoop stretcher to get him out," says Dr Cosgrove, a crowd doctor for 20 years at Durham County Cricket Club, Sunderland and Newcastle. "The St John and NEAS crew were doing that, and the stewards and the police cleared the crowd. It was my role at that point to make sure he wasn't too agitated and really protect him from hurting himself – that his airway was clear and he was breathing properly."
With Alan on his way to the RVI, Russell and Rebecca repacked their kit outside before returning to make their way back to their stationed area. There was applause as they helped Alan out to the ambulance, and then again when they re-entered the stadium. "It was that element of emotion at that point. We cleared our kit up outside, they went off to hospital, and then it's strange. We've done some of the work in this massive team effort, and then the patient's gone and you think, 'hopefully we'll find out what happens to him'" says Russell. "We just got back onto it, did our job, and that's what 're there for. We're not there to just sit there and soak up any kind of appreciation from the crowd."
Dr Prichard, an accident and emergency registrar at University Hospital of North Tees and a season ticket holder for 14 years, received a warm ovation as he made his way back to his seat. "As an A&E doctor, I couldn't just sit by and watch," he says. "To be honest, I just went to give some support and lend a hand, really." The 34-year-old – effusive in his praise for Ruth and Tracey, as well as the NEAS crew who provided the shocks – believes doctors have a 'duty of care' when it comes to people in need of medical help. "I can't really drive past a road traffic accident and ignore it. For a doctor being there, it was just me doing my job, helping out. I was just part of the team – I helped out."
Rebecca felt some nerves when she realised how many eyes had been on them as they worked on Alan. The paramedic crew had no time to digest what had happened; they were immediately called to another incident, which led to them departing for the RVI. Rebecca thinks it was one of six they responded to that evening.
It was a draining day. "I eventually looked at my phone," she says. "Everyone was like, 'oh my God, you're on TV! What's happening? Are you the paramedic?'
"I was like, 'wow'. It just totally blew up. Then it started to sink in. 'What have we just done?'"
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After it happened, Don found himself standing at Alan's feet, opposite Rebecca. "I'm not sure whether I was shocked or stunned. I was mentally alert, I think – well, for my age, you know. I was aware of what was going on but it was so much of a melee, it was difficult."
A police officer did her best to keep Don informed as the situation progressed. Details about Alan and his family were sought and they set about establishing contact with his daughter, Wendy. The methodical, businesslike manner in which they all went about their business was noted by Don, who was handed his friend's wallet, season ticket, travel pass and what looked like a piece of rubbish wrapped in a tissue as Alan was carried outside. He stuffed it in his pocket.
Ruth went back to her seat. "I felt numb," she says. "I think that's the only way I can describe it. I've done it before. But it was a bit traumatic. It's hard to describe. I think when you're doing it in a hospital it's different, because you've got all your equipment around you. I just felt a bit numb, and then completely overwhelmed when I got home." Ruth's daughters messaged her husband, who confirmed their mother had performed CPR. Social media erupted and there were interview requests, but she wanted to keep her head down; she had just done what came naturally.
Her and Tracey's quick and selfless response had been crucial. Afterwards, Tracey managed to separate herself from the emotional trauma of the situation. "I think it affected Ruth more," she says. "You've got a collapsed patient, and you just go, 'right, airway, breathing, circulation' and you just do what you do. I think because I've done it for so long, it's just a natural go-to response for me in that situation."
Later that night, Don found himself in a waiting room at the RVI as Alan was taken to intensive care. "They were really attentive. I could've drunk Ringtons Tea dry," he says. "But these were anxious moments for me.
"I'd had a long night, as it were. His daughter and her husband arrived. I handed over his belongings and put Wendy in the picture. I couldn't get a taxi – I was going to have to wait an hour for one – so I hoofed it down to the Metro and Alan's grandson met me and took me home.
"I divested myself of my clothing and I put my hand in my pocket, and found this rubbish in the tissue. I go to the pedal bin to put it in, but something said to me, 'you better check what’s inside of it'. When I opened it, it was his dentures."
Laughter from the two friends fills the room. Eventually, Don continues. "I thought you were a goner. I really did."
"I was a goner," Alan nods. "All I can remember is it being one each, not how long it actually was, but just floating about. And then all of a sudden, this picture came on – a white screen, with little green leaves, different shades of green, floating over the screen. Then everything went blank."
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Marianne and her team deal with cardiac arrests every season but few have captured attention as much as Alan's. Its location contributed to that, as did the fact it happened during Newcastle's first game under new ownership, live on Sky Sports. "If you have a cardiac arrest out of hospital, the survival percentage is about seven or eight per cent at the best. For every minute you don't receive CPR, your likelihood of survival decreases by ten per cent," she explains. "At the ground, because we've got four paramedic crews and four doctors, we'll get to you in a matter of minutes, and you'll have a full range of drugs and a defib by your side.
"But the key is people starting to do CPR – that's the absolute key. It doesn't stop the clock, but it allows a bit more time. Those bystanders – the two nurses who started CPR on Mr Smith – kept his brain perfused with oxygen until we got the paramedic crew there with the defib and oxygen to resuscitate him. It was really lucky that those two nurses were there, and could identify that his heart had stopped.
"All in all, everything went quite well, to be honest, from a medical point of view. Because of the resources we have at Newcastle and where they're located, the medical resources were there before I asked them to go. As a commander, I can't really expect more than that. The timing and everything was great – but the two nurses, who were sitting near Mr Smith and recognised that he was in cardiac arrest and started CPR, allowed us to give him the best chance at survival."
There were debriefs later, as standard, but there was little time for any of her team to gather their thoughts once Alan had been dispatched to hospital. "We had another couple of incidents that day – other chest pains and things like that – so there's still other people there who need our help. You've just got to crack on," adds Marianne. "It's a bit like chess – you have to move all your players around to make sure you've got everything covered."
She also wanted to check that her staff were coping. They had responded to a very public emergency and, at times, felt the weight of all the online commentary. "They were under a lot of pressure," she nods. "It makes the outcome just great for the family. And the staff as well – there's no better feeling than going home and thinking you've really made a difference to someone's family. I was really pleased for them and the way they conducted themselves afterwards as well. They just got on with their jobs, took it in their stride almost, because that's what they're trained to do."
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Alan has no recollection of his two nights in the RVI. He was taken to the Freeman to have four stents inserted on Wednesday, 20th October. "They put the first one in, put the second one in, put the third one in, and he came to the last one and said 'stop!'" says Alan, who was lying on the bed in theatre, staring up at the ceiling. "They all stopped and (the surgeon) come up to us and he says, 'Alan! Steve Bruce has been sacked!'"
Amanda Staveley called him while he was recovering in hospital, where he spent nine days. He takes out an envelope containing a well-wishing letter from Tottenham Hotspur, signed by their then-head coach Nuno Espírito Santo. "You've got to realise, this happened the wrong way round, my heart attack. It should have been him," he says, looking over at Don. "And the reason being is, from the day we met, he's always said, 'I want to die at St. James' Park'. Ask him what he says now!"
"I did qualify it," Don points out. "I want to die when we're scoring the winning goal at St. James' Park. I did say that the grim reaper came for me. But he had a bad aim." I ask if he has revised that hope after what happened, and Don nods.
Dr Prichard has kept in touch with Alan through North East Hearts with Goals, a charity aiming to place more defibrillators across the region and promote the importance of CPR. Before the game against Burnley in December, Dr Prichard was contacted by Alan Shearer via the Chronicle. Shearer wanted to meet those who had helped that day. "He took us all out for a pint, all on him. Rob Lee was there as well. It was a very surreal experience, but great fun," he says. "I thought it could have been a joke from Ant and Dec, you know? I wasn't convinced Alan Shearer was going to be there until we were in the bar and he got out of the car. 'Oh right – this is actually happening!'
"It was a nice touch from him – to go out of his way, contact us and organise it, it was very kind of him. It was nice of him to take time out of his busy diary and bother to meet up with us all. I think it says a lot about him."
Some of them didn’t realise that the man they had known as the patient, now fit and well again, was going to be there too. Tracey and Ruth went for a couple of drinks beforehand to steady their nerves. "I think Alan Shearer went, 'Alan's over there, you know'," Tracey explains. "I saw him and I just ran over. Aargh! I was just like, 'can I give you a hug?'
"Alan Shearer went to me, 'well, I never got a hug'. I was like, 'yeah, but we didn't have to shock you, did we?!'
Seeing Alan there – Smith, not Shearer – helped bring the paramedics a degree of closure they don't usually get after they have treated a patient. "That's the one downside of this job," says Rebecca, who raced down from Dundee to attend the gathering. "You drop off to hospital and that's it, unless it's in the paper or it's publicised. When I found out Alan actually made it, I think it was Marianne who told me. I saw it on Facebook where he was holding the scarf outside the Freeman. It's special, really."
Now, on a matchday, Ruth will turn around and give Alan and Don a wave. Meeting them that day, seeing him well, smiling, laughing and joking ("him and his friend who was with him, honestly – they could have been a comedy act") meant a lot. "The next home game Tracey and I went to, a guy a couple of rows up gave us both a carrier bag," she says. "He said, 'that's a little something for you two for what you did'.
"We looked in, and it was a tin of Heroes. He said, 'because that's what I think you are'."
Back in Alan's living room, there is so much light. Don looks at his friend. "It was a very hard way to get an audience with Alan Shearer, like, you know," he jokes. "But I think there's a sense of normality now, actually. It didn't take too long really. The first match you went back, everyone around us was clapping and saying, 'nice to see you back' and that sort of thing, but since then, we're just another couple of spectators. We're fans, that's all now. You've had your moment!"
"Yeah, they were clapping and all sorts as I went up to my seat," Alan replies. "We were a bit later than normal. And there's people now who are still coming and going, 'are you still alright?' Not just people in our row – down and behind and all that." That must be emotional? "Especially the first time, it was, aye." He pauses for a moment. "I'm trying to say to myself, don't get excited – keep cool, cool, cool."
Normality feels good after all that. The matchday routine isn't too different either. It is a little slower, perhaps – Alan now has to keep up with Don, not the other way round – but he is back at St. James' Park, back watching his team, and there is beauty and comfort in that.
"You couldn't sing their praises loud enough – all the medical people deserve so much praise, without a shadow of a doubt," says Alan. "I tell you what it is. I cannot be more grateful. I love life. If you love life, you don't want to go, do you?"
Alan and his family wish to extend their heartfelt thanks to all those who helped him after his cardiac arrest – to Ruth and Tracey, Russell and Rebecca, Tom and Matthew, Joe and Marianne, and all the other medical staff and supporters whose actions contributed to saving his life that day.
Alan would also like to thank all at the Forest Hall Constitutional and Unionist Club, who held an evening to raise funds for a community defibrillator. They raised £1,400 and, with help from North East Hearts with Goals, have installed the defibrillator on an external wall at the club.