So, now that we have finally said “Goodbye” to the “Greatest Living Englishman”™ I’d like to say a personal farewell.

I had a season ticket at St. James’ from the first Keegan season (you didn’t need one before that, you could pay on the gate.) There was an atmosphere around the place from the minute Keegan took over that a club that had been screwed was, amazingly, about to go places. And so it proved.

Andy Cole was a revelation. Then, at the height of his power, he was sold. Not just sold, but to Man. United, who at the time were our closest rivals. Enter Sir Les. Astonishing. I knew the man was good at QPR but he became the best center forward I’d ever seen at Newcastle…apart from one. Man. U. wanted Shearer and all the pundits in that close season based their predictions on who would win the league on: “Whoever gets Shearer.”

I was on a drink up in the Toon the day it was announced we’d signed him. It was the most delirious drink-up of my life. I didn’t believe it, nor did my pals. But it was true. Then we had the hilarious press photos of Shearer & Ferdinand wearing shirts that read “9” and “99” (equivalent of 911 for U.S. readers).

After that there were so many Shearer memories, not all of them pleasant, but all of them worthy of making the hairs on my arms stand up. The battering of Leicester City when we were dead and buried; the goal against Everton that I thought would have kept flying to Middlesbrough if there hadn’t been a net in the way, the near miss against Arsenal that MIGHT have changed the 1998 Cup Final; the celebrations after his goal in the 5-0 demolition of Man. U.; that trademark arm-in-the air, that smile, that modesty during the interviews that I don’t for a second believe was faked.

Alan Shearer…we may never see his like pass this way again. A hero, a true star. I loved hearing Michael Owen say that he hoped to one day be worthy of the Newcastle No. 9 shirt. I hope so too…but you’ve got a ways to go bonny lad!