The game begins and the week ends with team talks, both of them held on the pitch in tight circles. One is delivered in the moments before kick-off by Amber-Keegan Stobbs, the Newcastle United captain. “First tackle, hit them hard,” she yells at her fellow players over the clamour of clapping and loudspeakers. “Second tackle, hit them harder. Everything we do, we do together.”
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The other is less urgent and comes after the final whistle. Newcastle, who are in the third tier of women’s football, have won. They are top of their league. “I’m so proud of you,” Amanda Staveley, one of the club’s co-owners, says. “You’ve come so far.” The players jostle her and giggle, dancing in celebration. She groans and joins in.
Between the huddles, Staveley stands in front of Box 6 at Kingston Park stadium, home of the Newcastle Falcons rugby union team, watching the match and discussing budgets with Su Cumming, the head of women’s football. As children, neither were permitted to play. Now, they allow others to fulfil their dreams, handing out professional contracts.
Stobbs is one. A Newcastle fan from south London who was named after Kevin Keegan, she is living her “second act”. “There have been plenty of times in my life when I thought, ‘What am I here for?’ and I’ve been in really dark places,” she says. “When I signed, I got properly emotional because it was, ‘Ah, this all makes sense now’. This is the peak of my existence, a dream.”
Like Newcastle’s men’s team, the women have a blend of local players, high-profile signings and those who straddle the old and the new, rising and improving. Katie Barker is the No 9 with the same thirst for goals as Alan Shearer, her hero. Grace Donnelly, the goalkeeper, no longer has to pay to play for Newcastle, as she did in 2017 when she joined.
Until recently, Donnelly worked at a school, but in June, Newcastle became the first club at this level to go full-time. It gives them a huge advantage. A year ago, Donnelly would leave her home at 7.30am and not return until 10.30pm after training. “We were knackered,” she says. Teachers, policewomen and students are now footballers first.
Tyler Dodds comes on from the substitutes’ bench and tears down the wing. She is not ready to say farewell to her other life as a singer who performs a tribute act to Taylor Swift, although her gigs are now restricted to one a weekend. Inside the dressing room, she is “Tyler Swift” or “T-Swizzle”.
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That dressing room is decorated in black-and-white colours, with a sign saying ‘We Are United’ posted above the door and another saying ‘Howay the Lasses’ across the wall. Shirts hang on pegs and shorts are folded neatly with a match programme nestling on top. Last season, Becky Langley, the manager, would have hung up those kits. Last season, she did it all.
After training sessions late at night, Langley would collect the practice balls, cram them into her car and take them home, washing the players’ bibs. She would eat her evening meal at 11pm. When she found out in late June they were making the transition to full-time status, she broke down in tears.
Cumming calls Langley, who led Newcastle to promotion last May, their “special one”. Staveley likens her to Eddie Howe, the men’s team’s head coach. For this match, Wor Flags, the fans group, hold up a banner with Langley’s face on it and another emblazoned with one of her quotes: “If you believe you can do it, then why not?”
After their majority takeover by Saudi Arabia’s Public Investment Fund (PIF) in 2021, Newcastle believe they can get to the very top. They have intent and momentum and recently went 399 days without defeat. This Sunday, they play a National League Cup semi-final at home to Portsmouth at St James’ Park and another big crowd is anticipated.
For a week and more, The Athletic went behind the scenes with Newcastle United Women to watch them train, to witness the build-up to game day, and to hear their stories of dedication, struggle, trailblazing and transformation, of believing they could do it and then doing it together.
Sunday
Team news and music blare through the sliding doors of Box 6. Monochrome photos of great sporting moments line the grey walls. Staveley asks for a Diet Coke and sits at a lacquered wooden table, although she doesn’t sit still for long. When the players come out, she races to the door to video the moment on her phone.
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Staveley was the architect of Newcastle’s regime change. Having visited an ailing club on the advice of friends back in 2017, the financier “fell in love” with its pent-up potential. Her first attempt to buy the club from Mike Ashley was not successful, but she returned to the table with the financial clout of PIF and the Reuben family behind her and finally prevailed.
She believed.
Alongside Mehrdad Ghodoussi, her husband, Staveley ran Newcastle in the early months. They negotiated the transfers which helped lift the men’s team away from the relegation positions. They were pivotal to the recruitment of Howe as head coach and Dan Ashworth as sporting director, with the latter now on gardening leave following his public courtship by Manchester United.
They are still hands-on. With Ghodoussi at home in London, taking care of Alexander, their son, Staveley is at Kingston Park. “I’m incredibly passionate about everything to do with Newcastle and we’re one massive family, but the women’s team has a very special part in my heart,” she says. “It is my biggest passion, apart from Lexi.”
It was integral to her strategy for the club long before PIF came on board. “This has always been at the heart of my plans, it really has,” she says. It is a nuance that can be lost in discussions about Newcastle’s post-takeover landscape and perceived “sportswashing” by Saudi Arabia, a country where women still face discrimination in several aspects of daily life, a topic The Athletic has covered in depth here.
There are personal reasons behind Staveley’s ambitions. “When I was young, there was no pathway for me,” she says. “I went to a girls’ school, we played lacrosse and netball and I was a good athlete, but I desperately wanted to play football and there was no way I could. I played with James, my brother, at home, but that was it.”
There are also professional reasons. “What we see is an opportunity to invest in the women’s team now because in the future it will probably equal or even outstrip the men’s,” she says. “I have no doubt about that, even if there’s a huge disparity now.”
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Under Ashley, Newcastle’s women were an afterthought, supported by the club’s charitable foundation. “I was shocked when I met these incredible women who were effectively paying to play football,” Staveley says. “They had full-time jobs, they were exhausted, they had to train at night, some of them were mums and there was little medical support.”
In August 2022, the team was officially brought under the club’s ownership, while Langley — who had been juggling coaching with leading Northumbria University’s women’s football programme — became their first full-time manager.
Now they are all full-time. “It’s a huge statement, but it was important we weren’t half-in, half-out,” says Staveley. “There was an easy route — slow investment, keep everything steady — but it’s so difficult to get out of the leagues with one up, one down. To be top this year is extraordinary and a testament to Becky and the team.”
She sees parallels between Langley and Howe. “We’re so lucky to have Becky and Eddie,” she says. “We couldn’t ask for better managers. I’ve built a relationship with them over the last couple of years and they’re so focused and determined. They’re exceptional people. They’re very similar in that they have very low egos, they’re very intelligent, they’re both very hardworking.”
At this level, Kingston Park works well for Newcastle, but it is not theirs. While upwards of £10million ($12.6m) has been spent upgrading the men’s training ground at Longbenton — Ghodoussi played a key part — big decisions are still to be taken on whether (and where) to build a bespoke complex and whether the women would be based there, too.
“Everything is up for discussion,” Staveley says. “When we took over, I think we all assumed the right solution would be to put everyone together, but what I’ve learned is to bring in the best people and help them work out what’s needed. We want to provide the best environment and facilities for both teams, whether that’s under the same roof or with separate training grounds.
“The men’s team now have a fantastic training ground, which had to happen because we couldn’t have attracted elite athletes to come to Newcastle if we hadn’t drastically improved. It was one of my real bug-bears when we took over. It was awful. It’s great to see the men’s training ground now, but we haven’t got any more space there and things take time to build.
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“We’re looking at a lot of our colleagues at other teams to try to work out what environment will produce the best performance.
“Kingston Park has been a great home (for the women) and allowed us to focus on what we need to do and we’ve been very lucky to have it. A (long-term) solution is needed, though. We have to think about what we need on the next steps on our journey. As we move through the leagues, there will need to be infrastructure investment.”
Ultimately, Newcastle have the same aim for both teams. “Absolutely — competing for everything and winning a much yearned-for trophy for the men and women,” Staveley says. “There’s no difference in ambition. We’re just as proud of the women for being top of their league as we were of the men for finishing in the top four last season.
“But the women have got a different story to tell. I say to them, ‘You inspire. You being out there every day is encouraging young girls to play football, to dream of playing for Newcastle’.”
The game has started now and Staveley has moved outside. She is an active observer, shifting in her seat when Newcastle attack, shouting encouragement — “well done!” — and punching the air when they score. Paige Bailey-Gayle is in a hot run of form in front of goal; a new signing from Crystal Palace last month, the Jamaica international represents another source of difference.
Newcastle did not add to their men’s first-team pool in January. “Financial fair play (FFP) is obviously a key issue in the men’s game and every club is facing the same challenges, although we’re compliant and always will be compliant,” Staveley says. “In the women’s game, it isn’t an issue. It allowed us to bring four new players on board.”
She looks out at the pitch. “Matchdays are what it’s all about and I love them, but I find them terrifying, too, and I get sick to my stomach,” she says. “I have the hell of Saturdays and the fear of Sundays — until we win! The girls have been doing so well that it’s been easier to watch them than the men with their huge injury list, but I get just as stressed.
“We tend to get together in a huddle after a victory. It’s lovely. The girls try to make me dance, even though I’m useless! I always tell them to enjoy their football. I need to do the same.”
Saturday
Langley is in the coaches’ room at Kingston Park. It is a borrowed space, although Newcastle memorabilia, prints and shirts, line the walls. There is a small fridge, a coffee machine and a photocopier. Laptops are open on circular tables and tiny playing shirts are lined up in formation (the team was picked on Thursday).
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On June 24 last year, Newcastle’s board deliberated whether to make the women’s team a full-time operation. “It got to 11pm and I was thinking, ‘Maybe it’s not good news’,” Langley says. “That was when I got a text from Dan telling me we’d got the go-ahead. I had friends round for a barbecue and we shared that moment. I burst into tears. I knew how much it would mean for women’s football.”
Why is it so important? “You can’t be the best athlete you can be if you’re juggling it with another job,” she says. “Players don’t have to do their previous employment. Some are on a career break to see if they can get their contracts extended. For those who were unemployed, it’s life-changing.
“The rest of the staff I work with are in more and there’s more financial support for them. The big thing is not training at 10pm. We’re training in the day, we’re feeding players. Everything is more professional. We’re still learning on the job, but it’s been massive.”
Time and personnel are Newcastle’s greatest resources. While other clubs at this level have access to data and use GPS, Langley has specialists around her such as medical staff; sports scientists; a psychologist; Jess Saunders, an analyst; a first-team coach in Andy Cook — previously head coach at Nottingham Forest Women — a goalkeeping coach and others.
“Last season, everyone was out to get us,” Langley says. “It was like, ‘You’ve got part-time finances, we’ve got nothing and we want to beat you at all costs’. There are some teams in this league who have approached it that way, but there have been other games where you almost feel it’s won before you start, where they’re thinking, ‘We can’t compete’.”
“We have a duty of care,” Cook says. “If we finish fifth, other teams will say ‘Newcastle went full-time and messed it up’, so why should we put money in?’.”
“We have a responsibility, definitely,” Langley says. “If we win the league, other owners will say ‘the best way to get the women’s team up is to fully professionalise them’.”
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Staveley is keen to ease that burden. “I don’t want them to feel that pressure,” she says. “We would encourage all clubs to invest, but I’ve always said to Becky and the girls, ‘Play as well as you can, look after each other and entertain the fans. If you do all that, the rest will follow’.”
Today, Langley and Cook have been doing shape work with the team. “People can’t appreciate how much things have changed in six months,” Langley says. “Last season, I would have been laying out the kit, setting up the whole session, doing everything. It’s weird; when you talk about it you remember how much has happened.”
What has mostly happened is winning. Langley’s team went through the whole of 2023 without defeat, an extraordinary sequence which ended when they lost 5-0 at Manchester United, who play two divisions above them, in the FA Women’s Cup. The following weekend, they were beaten 2-1 at home to Forest in the league, a rare sensation.
“I didn’t sleep after Forest because I was so angry, but I’ve matured in terms of my feelings after matches,” Langley says. “There’s disappointment, but I understand you learn so much from losing. You have the hunger to bounce back.”
Langley first coached as a 14-year-old at school in Yarm, Teesside. After a degree in sport and exercise science at Loughborough University, an internship at Forest sealed the deal. This was her life.
Cook is from Middlesbrough. “Everyone knows the Geordies have passionate fans, but I didn’t realise how passionate until I came to work for them,” he says. “Man United got in touch to say ours was the biggest away following for any game they’ve ever had. This league hasn’t seen anything like it. It’s a very exciting place to be. It’s on another level.”
The idea, the hope, is that Langley will grow with Newcastle. “I think we’ve got a special one,” Cumming says. “Becky has everything you need: the hard edge, the soft touch, the vision. She’s very clever. I would really love to see her do very well in her career and I’d love it even more if it’s here. When we get to the WSL in two or three years, I’d like to think she’ll be the manager.”
Friday
Team news is sent to the players, allowing them scope to digest whether they’re starting or involved. Otherwise, this is a day off, although for Cara Milne-Redhead, the Newcastle midfielder, the concept is alien. “I can’t relax!” she says. “I love being busy.”
Milne-Redhead is not in Langley’s XI for Sunday, but there is no outward sign of dismay. It is 4.15pm at Newcastle’s Foundation building, close to St James’, and she is waiting in the reception area as girls drift in through the doors with their parents. She bumps fists and asks how they are.
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Milne-Redhead, 21, is the assistant coach for Newcastle United girls’ under-9s and 10s, all of whom have been scouted, an avenue which wasn’t open to her growing up near Manchester. She played for Clitheroe Wolves, a boys’ team, until she was 14. “To see young girls here being able to pull on a Newcastle shirt and be on the pathway towards the first team is brilliant,” she says.
But she isn’t just seeing, she is doing and helping. Staveley calls her “an absolute star”.
At Coventry United, her previous club, Milne-Redhead combined football with working at Subway, but on Tyneside, she “kind of has three jobs”, playing, coaching, and her own business mentoring young footballers. “I pass on the tips and tricks I’ve learned, the technical side, nutrition, recovery, psychology.” Twenty kids have signed up.
“Playing is my priority, but it’s always been important for me to have that backup option,” she says. “My mam and dad instilled that in me.”
Milne-Redhead signed for Newcastle in January last year. “Manchester United was my first proper loss, which is crazy,” she says. “Becky keeps us grounded, but we’re all confident. We step onto the pitching thinking, ‘We can beat you’.”
Thursday
At 9.45am, players are led through opposition video analysis by Saunders. They drive to nearby Bullocksteads Sports Ground for pre-activation and then the squad is split for full-sided games; each week, they compete for a training game trophy.
After lunch back at Kingston Park — meatballs or fishcakes — it is back to the gym; Stobbs confirms it is leg day in the cafe a couple of hours later. She was born in 1992, the year Keegan returned to Newcastle as manager before leading the men’s team up into the Premier League, to second place, to Shearer’s world-record signing and the rest.
Her dad slipped “Keegan” onto her birth certificate while her mum “was still coming back round after the delivery”, she says and, by way of clarification: “My parents are nuts, in a good way.” When she was little, they would drive from London to Consett, County Durham, to visit her grandparents and then to watch Newcastle.
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“It’s amazing to be back full circle and for the club to be back where it should be,” she says. “I always knew I would play for Newcastle and this is the perfect time to do it because I’ve got the best mindset about myself and football. It’s the pinnacle, not in terms of level, but because it was always meant to happen. I’d like to end my career here.”
The road “home” featured potholes. At 26, Stobbs retired. “I thought I was done,” she says. At Reading, Everton, West Ham and Charlton Athletic, she had been chasing “the feelings I felt I should be getting from football, but they just never came”. There was insomnia, panic attacks, and worse.
“It had gone from suffering in silence to getting to some really dangerous places,” she says. After a spell away from the game, concentrating on herself and “getting bored working out alone”, she thought she’d give football another go. “I play differently now and have a different mentality. It’s a dream again.”
Stobbs spoke openly about her mental health at Crystal Palace, her comeback club. “It’s my biggest passion outside football,” she says. “I’ll be qualified within a year to be a counsellor for speaking therapy and stuff, to have my own practice. It’s one of the many things I want to do after football. Off the back of a counsellor who saved my life, I want to give back.”
Saved her life. Does she mean that? “One hundred per cent,” she says. “More than once.”
These are weighty subjects, but Stobbs, now 31, is irrepressible and funny. It still feels “surreal”, she says, to be representing “the club you love”. The team played at St James’ in pre-season. “I held it together in the warm-up — I was like, ‘Come on, concentrate, you’ve got a game to play’, then when we came out as a team, it was, ‘Oh gosh’. We do the team talk, count from one to three and then jump and sprint out. Tears were streaming down my face.”
To be there again for Portsmouth this weekend, to be captain for a competitive match in front of her people, to be home at last, home in Newcastle, living the dream, where it all makes sense, well, that will be quite something, won’t it? “I am concerned,” Stobbs says, but a smile flickers on her lips. “Just for the bit when we walk out when they play Local Hero. I can’t even explain…”
Everyone has a story. Everyone is a story. Donnelly embodies how far Newcastle have come. “I joined Newcastle when I was 19,” she says. “Credit to the foundation, they did everything they could, but they are a charity and could only provide so much. It was training on a paid basis.”
What does that actually mean? “It wasn’t even part-time back in 2017,” she says. “You either had to find a sponsor or set up a direct debit to pay-to-play. You were paying for your kit, your buses, your full wrap-around. We trained twice a week on a Tuesday and Thursday and our games were on Sunday and that was it.”
Until last year, Donnelly was working at Duke’s Secondary School in Ashington, Northumberland, as a behaviour intervention assistant. “It was quite a taxing job, then it would be food on the go, drive to training, then home, then do it all over again. I feel so grateful for the position we’re in now.”
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Donnelly is a goalkeeper. “I’ve always loved diving at people’s feet, the thrill you get when you make a big save,” she says. “I watched Newcastle (men) all the time when I was little. My hero was Shay Given. My parents would say, ‘What are you watching the keeper for?’, but it was all I wanted to do. To be Newcastle’s No 1 still gives me goosebumps.”
Wednesday
Breakfast at Kingston Park is followed by team-building. It is player-led, with Hannah Reid, a goalkeeper, handing out pens and slips of paper. The task is to jot down a few words about a colleague and Reid admits: “This is where it could all go disastrously wrong.” Grinning, Langley yells: “Who wants to start on Sunday?” across the room.
There are happy yelps when the notes are distributed and opened. “Ah, that’s really cute,” says Saunders when she looks at hers. They read: “Kind and approachable,” “Always cares about how we are,” and “Stats queen.”
Disaster averted, they move on to the next exercise. Players are blindfolded at the front of the room and guided through a mini obstacle course — around bollards, over hurdles — by voice only, first by one person and then everybody, highlighting the importance of clear communication and trust.
Over at Bullocksteads, Tom Keeney, the sports scientist, leads the players through stretching routines. “Anybody got any WD40?” Reid asks. From there it is to the gym and then outside, where every session is videoed and everybody’s GPS monitored, including the keepers, which is a new development.
They begin with small drills with Langley in the middle. She blows her whistle and blows it again a minute later: “Hang on,” she says. “We’re not f***ing strolling. Let’s refresh and start again… Good!” There are small-sided games, three touches then aim for goal. “Let’s go, let’s go,” Langley shouts.
Cook is vocal, too. He draws the players together to talk about what they’re doing and why. He quotes Bill Shankly: “Football is a simple game complicated by idiots.” Later, he explains his thinking. “Don’t get bogged down in the detail, just enjoy it. I’ll worry about the detail. That’s my job.”
“I feel like I’m blabbing,” Dodds says as words tumble out of her. She talks as well as she plays and sings as well as she talks, although never around her team-mates. “If I’ve got a stage and a microphone, I’d sing forever,” she says. “If you want me to sing on a bus in my Newcastle kit, forget it. I do it as a professional. I don’t like doing it half-arsed.”
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Dodds, 27, has two accounts on X, formerly Twitter. She is @Tylerldodds and @TYLERofficialm. She is the singer-winger, who performs at clubs and holiday parks. “I’m kind of like Hannah Montana, the best of both worlds!” she laughs. “Football was my first love, but I can’t just switch singing off.
“When I came here last year, I told the coaches I love doing both and they’ve allowed it. I’m sensible. It’s maybe working once a weekend, rather than three times.”
Music is in the blood. “My mam and dad and aunties sing professionally,” she says. “My dad has an entertainment agency, so I work through that. I was a shy kid but he pulled me on stage to do a couple of songs with him and I started to get more confidence. I’m a completely different person now.”
The idea of Tyler Swift came about as a joke on holiday. “Eventually, my dad just said, ‘Learn the songs, we’re selling it’. I didn’t even know Taylor Swift’s songs that well! I had to watch her videos to learn her mannerisms. It’s worked out well. When I’ve got my wig on and that red lipstick, I think I can just about pass!”
Dodds began her football career at Sunderland’s Centre of Excellence where she “got told off by the coaches for wearing my Newcastle top underneath”. She has played for Durham, Middlesbrough and Glasgow City, too. During the pandemic, this “home-bird” shocked herself by signing for Pomigliano in Naples, where she became known as “Motorbike” because of her pace.
Signing for Newcastle “was the perfect scenario”, even if her team-mates “all take the mick” out of her musical alter ego. “They call me ‘T-Swizzle’ because of the Tyler Swift thing,” she says. “It’s pretty funny. They talk about coming to watch me sing, but it hasn’t happened yet. I’d welcome it, but I’m not sure the coaches would. Maybe after we get promoted.”
Tuesday
It is 9.45am at Kingston Park and Saunders is doing her stuff on a big screen, beginning her presentation with something inspirational. After their defeat to Manchester United, it centred on the 1,000 Newcastle fans who had travelled to watch them play, with some complimentary quotes from the opposition.
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There is a ‘clip of the week’. “Something very positive I’ve seen in the game, so the players can have individual recognition,” Saunders says. “Then it’s statistics like completed passes, possession, shots and then we compare that with the opposition.
“Then I split it up into the first half and second half. In green are the things we’ve done well and red is where the other team have taken advantage. You go through all the clips, break them down, goals scored and conceded and then an open discussion. It’s not about fault, but how we can improve.”
On Thursdays, Saunders presents opposition analysis. “All the clubs share a platform called Hudl, so everyone can see everybody else’s games. We look at their patterns in and out of possession so we can prepare and put it into our next few training sessions.” Everything is in-depth.
For away games, Saunders “is normally up in the stands recording with my camera”, but at home an intern does the filming, allowing her “to live code, so at half-time I can present statistics to the team. It’s really cool”. Quite a few teams at this level do analysis, she says, “but normally they’re reliant on the coaches themselves. It’s quite rare to have someone who solely does it”.
Saunders is 23. How do you get to specialise in a skill like this? “I grew up playing football, joined a boys’ team at six, played for academies and then went to university,” she says. “I found this love for performance analysis. At the time, I didn’t even realise it was a thing, it was just starting to grow. Then I did it as a master’s degree.”
She says it is what she wants to do for the rest of her life and Newcastle, who she joined in September, is where she wants to do it. “You don’t realise how nice everyone is up here,” she says. “I wouldn’t want to move. To be in the WSL would be amazing and we can absolutely do it. I would love to keep going, to get all the way to the top.”
Monday
“Sleep in”, with a smiling emoji, Newcastle’s weekly plan says. There is an hour of recovery work, a pitch session for those who played less than 60 minutes yesterday, lunch and then a workshop with Dr Ian Mitchell, the club’s new head of psychology. In other weeks, this might be a day off.
Cumming is happy to talk. Her role is to “look after the nuts and bolts, allowing Becky to have the team she wants. We work really closely together. It’s recruitment, looking at players, talking to other clubs, making sure the payroll is right, coming up with a business plan. It’s all the bits behind the scenes”.
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She had been a volunteer at Newcastle from 2016 and was a director when the team was under the foundation’s umbrella, “permanently badgering for the club to take us on”. In the late 1980s, she had been instrumental in the formation and running of the Cowgate Kestrels, which would eventually be merged into Sunderland’s official team. She is a pioneer.
It is still incredible — shocking — to think that in 1921 the English Football Association outlawed women from playing on their affiliated pitches because they considered the game “to be quite unsuitable for females and ought not to be encouraged”, and that the ban was not rescinded until 1970.
“I’m of the generation that could only just play football, but there wasn’t anywhere,” Cumming says. “I wasn’t allowed. A group of us at primary school asked the headmaster and he said no. I played in the garden, but I’m an only child. I could do a good one-two with the birdbath.
“I supported Newcastle and a strip was always on my Christmas list as a kid. Wasn’t allowed — girls don’t do that. Becky actually gave me my first Newcastle shirt. It had 22,134 on the back, which was the gate when we played at St James’ for the first time. I’m so proud of it.”
It has been a long journey for the women’s game, but things are changing and, at Newcastle, they are changing at velocity. “I can’t tell you how many times I cried at the Man United match,” Cumming says. “It was everything: the number of fans, the girls, the atmosphere, the experience, the way we handled ourselves on and off the pitch. It was just brilliant.
“I kept thinking back to when we would get a couple of hundred people and a few dogs at games. Now we’re riding the same wave as the men. I’m immensely proud of the whole club’s resurgence, but the best thing of all is that I can now say to a young woman, ‘Would you like a job?’. That’s something I absolutely love.”
Post takeover, Cumming’s original business plan envisaged Newcastle reaching the WSL by 2030; now she is thinking much sooner. “I didn’t expect to get out of tier four straight away and certainly didn’t expect to be doing so well this season,” she says. “We’ll see what happens. The WSL want us there because we’ll get the crowds.”
The Portsmouth game coincides with the 80th birthday of Staveley’s father, Robert. “I’ve told him we have to end his party early!” she says. “He’s very understanding. He knows how important being there is to me.”
Newcastle are pushing for another big turn-out, one which would take them through the 100,000 barrier for women’s matches at St James’. “We’d love as many people as possible to come and add to the force behind the side,” Staveley says. “Newcastle United Women represent all of us. Their success is our success. It’s a really important part of our story.”
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Newcastle are just beginning, but these early moments are precious: players and staff who have done the hard yards being allowed to flourish, new signings and ambition lifting everybody, a culture of winning and fierce momentum. Importantly, there is still that feeling of connection; after matches at Kingston Park, the team mingles with supporters. There is so much hope.
“We’re the best club with the best fans in the world,” says Staveley, who has always believed. “You go into the city and it’s electrifying. That incredible buzz is around every part of the club, but the way everybody has got behind the women’s team has been brilliant. We’re very grateful. And we want more.”
(Top photo: George Caulkin/The Athletic; design: Eamonn Dalton)
