Can one freezing afternoon change your life forever? For me, one trip to the Stadium of Light sparked a lifelong obsession with Sunderland AFC and memories that still mean everything.
I was about six and a half when I first visited the Stadium of Light – a bitterly cold day on 12 January 2013. The mist from the restless North Sea rolled across Wearside early that morning. I had been waiting for this day for ages, and it was finally here.
The cold bit at my fingertips on the way to the ground. My granda
and I walked across Wearmouth Bridge with thousands of other Mackems. It was loud, it stank of smoke, and it was absolutely freezing – a proper matchday experience.
We took our seats in the East Stand, Row 11, although the seat numbers evade me. I don’t remember much about how we played, but I do have a vivid memory of Stéphane Sessègnon running from the halfway line and almost scoring. The noise just ramped up with every yard he got closer to the goalmouth.
I know we won 3 – 0, but I only remember Seb Larsson scoring after around the first ten minutes and getting the shock of my life when all these grown men started going ballistic and I was lifted off my feet. My granda was smiling from ear to ear, and it’s a look I’ll remember for the rest of my life.
I can remember the strong smell of pies and beer, with people queuing in their thousands in the concourse to get some food or a pint, all while singing and chanting. The warmth in the concourse made me forget about the freezing cold outside in the stands.
I also remember an older gentleman sitting to my left, with my granda on my right. The gentleman asked if I was enjoying the match.
“It’s my first ever one,” I said with a massive grin.
“Well, son, ya in for life now,” he replied.
I didn’t really know what that meant at the time, but now, 13 years on, I know exactly what he meant.
At full-time, the noise was palpable. The weather didn’t matter – all that mattered was around 40,000 of my fellow Mackems going mental at the fact we’d just beaten West Ham.
Once again, I was lifted off my feet by my granda, who put me on his shoulders to celebrate. I felt so tall and proud in that moment, with the Lads on the pitch celebrating with the supporters.
On the journey home, he and I talked about the match and the club in general.
The Metro was heaving from St Peter’s to Pallion, and he took me on a journey through both his history and the club’s – from his first match at Roker Park in the 1960s, to Bobby Kerr and the 1973 FA Cup-winning side, Gary Rowell and his hat-trick against the Mags (or “the barcodes”, as he called them), then the Peter Reid era, Kevin Phillips’ European Golden Shoe, and our divisional titles.
I was awestruck by everything the club had achieved. That day made me a diehard Sunderland supporter until the day I leave this earth, and even then, I’ll still be a Mackem.
I’d watched Sunderland on the telly for as long as I could remember. I was born during Roy Keane’s tenure, so I grew up with us being a decent Premier League side. But to actually be there in person, to experience the noise and to see the Lads first-hand was something I’ll never, ever forget.
My granda and I are still watching the Lads together in 2026, and we’ve seen so many historic moments. We’ve celebrated two promotions, a trophy win, a derby double and qualification for Europe – the latter being something neither of us ever thought we’d see.
The fact that we now get to watch our club compete in Europe together is something I don’t take for granted, and it’s a privilege to share those moments with the man who first took me to the Stadium of Light.
