The club’s drop to the third tier is far worse than that of 1987 and for many locals it got to the point where staying in the pub become more appealing than going to the Stadium of Light
The King’s Arms perches on the south bank of the Wear behind the waste ground where the Vaux brewery used to be. It’s a proper pub, at least 150 years old, with a fine range of beers, ancient octagonal tables and draughty toilets widely rumoured to be haunted. We always go there before the home game nearest to Christmas. Nothing much changes. You notice the odd dad who isn’t there any more, the odd kid who’s joined the group, but essentially it’s the same group of blokes catching up, having much the same conversation they have every year. Except this season, there was something different. This season there was a parrot.
I’m not sure anybody had realised the King’s needed a parrot but now it’s there it’s obvious it belongs. This is a pub that reeks of the docks and the shipyards and the city’s seafaring heritage. Of course it should have a parrot. And so Peter now sits on top of his cage, cynical and grey, brutally assessing the drinkers in his domain.
via Football | The Guardian