Newcastle-Sunderland: Smoke gets in your eyes

Words: Martin Lindsay

Images: Martin Lindsay

At 9am on Sunday 22nd March 2026, streams of Newcastle United fans poured into the city’s pubs for early opening.

The decade long-wait for one of English football’s most fierce derby matches was over.

Newcastle versus Sunderland. Black and white versus red and white. Tyneside versus Wearside.

It was undoubtedly ‘a moment’. And instead of the usual derby-day breakfast beer in my hand, I had my camera.

For full transparency, I am a Newcastle fan. The first Tyne-Wear derby I went to was a 2-0 win in 2008. Since then, I’ve been to every home game against Sunderland and a few aways, too.

At the start of this season I pledged to photograph more match days. But not the match itself.

I’m fascinated by the people and places. The back street social clubs or greasy spoon cafes. The bars that are shut six days out of seven but do a week’s trade in a few pre-match hours. The natural habitat for proper characters, culture and stories. They are the juxtaposition to what football is becoming and I’m all for it.

On 25/26 fixture release day, this match was the most anticipated. You look for these games, but you don’t look forward to them. You don’t enjoy, you endure.

We, of course, had the reverse Wear-Tyne derby earlier this season, which Newcastle lost 1-0. But, this one - in our city - hits different.

Newcastle United is an unrecognisable football club in comparison to that which hosted the last Tyne-Wear derby - a 1-1 draw in March 2016.

A Premier League relegation and subsequent promotion, a Saudi-Arabia backed takeover, two Champions League campaigns and a first domestic trophy in 70 years have followed.

In the modern football world of PSR, high ticket prices and new rules nobody asked for, this derby - between two working class cities built on industrial heritage - is a no nonsense throwback.

Its return to the calendar reminds us how much football has changed. VAR wasn’t even a thing for the last Tyne-Wear derby at Newcastle.

Both cities have areas with some of the highest poverty rates in the country but nothing stops people in North-East England following their team.

One Newcastle fan I spoke to in the crowds had paid over £500 for two tickets from a re-sale site.

“I just hope it actually works at the turnstile”, he said.

The perfect remedy to cure his anxiety soon came.

As kick off approached the crowds deepened, the noise deafening. Banks of police officers kept a watchful eye. The stale taste of pre-noon lager had succumbed to the plumes of thick pyro smoke hitting the back of throats.

These were incredible scenes only replicated by the club’s League Cup victory parade last year. That, though, was jubilation. For some here, this was war.

Newcastle fans - wearing flags as capes, one hand clenching a can, the other punching the air - were scaling walls and signs to get the first glimpse of the enemy. For context, European giants Barcelona and PSG didn’t get this welcome.

“Sunderland get battered everywhere they go” was bellowed towards their fans as they made their way to St James’ Park on foot in a police cordon.

A small number of opposing supporters clashed yards from where I was stood but it lasted mere seconds. A tiny minority also went too far by launching glass bottles at Sunderland’s team coach.

The last time Newcastle beat Sunderland at home was a 5-1 win on Halloween in 2010. Some of the lads I was photographing this time weren’t even old enough to go trick or treating back then.

They were also too young to notice the derby-day royalty among them. Nikos Dabizas, a Newcastle legend after scoring in a 1-0 win over Sunderland in 2002, walked through the crowds and was happy to have his photo taken.

On the pitch, Newcastle lost to Sunderland. Again. As the dust settles I’m still angry about the result and the manner of it. The taunts from Sunderland colleagues have only hindered the recovery.

However, even in defeat, I was able to take home a small consolation. Amidst a backdrop of genuine concern for Premier League atmospheres across the board, those pre-match scenes prove the game we love is still alive.

In an era obsessed by social media views and going viral, you can be forgiven for questioning the authenticity of football content we consume these days. Did that actually happen? Was that set up? Is that AI?!

However, what I experienced and photographed pre-match on Sunday was something else.

That was hostile. That was hatred. That was horrible (in a good way). But, most importantly, it was real.

That was the Tyne-Wear derby. Just how I remembered it.