Anthony McPartlin & Declan Donnelly donated £85,000 to renovate the old football pitch they played on as boys — but what moved the kids was the fence lined with old boots…
Each pair belonged to a professional footballer who once played there, with a note: “We started here too. Now it’s your turn.”
The Pitch of Dreams
In the heart of Newcastle upon Tyne, tucked between terraced houses and a winding river, lay Fenham Field, a scruffy football pitch where dreams were born. Its grass was patchy, the goalposts rusted, and the lines faded like old memories. But for Anthony McPartlin and Declan Donnelly—Ant and Dec—this was hallowed ground. As boys in the 1980s, they’d spent countless evenings here, kicking a worn ball, dreaming of glory. Now, in 2025, the beloved TV duo decided to give back to the place that shaped them. They donated £85,000 to transform Fenham Field into a state-of-the-art pitch for the kids of their hometown. But it was the fence lined with old boots that stole the show and moved a generation.
Ant and Dec, now household names, never forgot their roots. Through their production company’s “Hometown Heroes” initiative, they sought to uplift communities that shaped them. When they learned Fenham Field was crumbling, they saw a chance to inspire. The renovation was a labor of love: fresh turf, new goalposts, floodlights that gleamed like stars, and a small grandstand for proud parents. But Ant and Dec wanted more than a shiny pitch—they wanted to spark dreams. So, they hatched a plan that would leave the kids of Newcastle speechless.
They reached out to professional footballers who’d once played on Fenham Field, from Premier League stars to local legends. The response was overwhelming. Players sent pairs of their old boots—scuffed, mud-caked relics of their own journeys—each with a handwritten note: “We started here too. Now it’s your turn.” By the time the pitch was ready, the chain-link fence surrounding it was adorned with dozens of boots, each pair a testament to possibility.
The grand opening was set for a crisp June evening. Kids from local schools, youth clubs, and estates gathered, their excitement buzzing like static. Ant and Dec arrived in their signature casual style, greeted by cheers and a sea of Geordie accents. “This is your pitch now,” Ant said, grinning. “But look at the fence—those boots tell a story.” The crowd hushed as eyes turned to the display. There were boots from Alan Shearer, Newcastle United’s legend, with a note: “Score one for me.” Another pair, from a women’s national team player, read: “Dream big, lasses.” A midfielder, now playing in Spain, wrote: “This pitch taught me heart.”
Among the kids was 12-year-old Mia, a shy girl with a fierce left foot. She’d grown up hearing stories of Fenham Field’s glory days but never imagined it could look like this—green, pristine, alive. As she read the notes, her fingers traced a pair of battered boots from a local hero turned Premier League striker. “I was you once,” the note said. “Keep kicking.” Mia’s eyes welled up. For the first time, she felt her dream of playing professionally wasn’t just a fantasy.
The ceremony kicked off with a match—kids versus a mix of Ant, Dec, and former players who’d donated boots. Dec, predictably, tripped over the ball, earning roars of laughter. Ant, more competitive, attempted a nutmeg on a 10-year-old and failed spectacularly. The crowd loved it. But the real magic happened after, when the kids were let loose on the pitch. They ran, passed, and tackled under the floodlights, their shouts echoing into the night. Parents watched, some teary, knowing this was more than a game—it was hope.
Ant and Dec mingled, signing autographs and sharing stories of their own Fenham days. “We were rubbish,” Dec admitted to a group of boys. “But this place made us believe we could be something.” The kids hung on every word, clutching balls and staring at the boots on the fence. One boy, Jamal, 14, pointed to a pair from a defender now at a top club. “He’s from my estate,” Jamal whispered. “If he can do it…” He didn’t finish, but his eyes said enough.
The fence became a pilgrimage site. Kids came daily to read the notes, each one a spark. Teachers noticed a shift—more kids joined local teams, trained harder, believed deeper. Mia, inspired by the women’s team player’s boots, tried out for a regional squad and made it. Jamal, who’d always doubted himself, started practicing free kicks until dusk. The boots weren’t just relics; they were promises, proof that Fenham’s soil could grow stars.
Word of the pitch spread. Social media buzzed with photos of the boot-lined fence, tagged #FenhamDreams. Ant and Dec’s £85,000 gift had rebuilt more than a field—it had rebuilt pride. Local businesses chipped in, offering scholarships for talented kids. Former players returned to coach, their boots still hanging as reminders. The pitch became a beacon, not just for Newcastle but for any kid who dared to dream.
Years later, Mia stood on Fenham Field, now a professional player, her own boots destined for the fence. She’d never forget that June evening, the floodlights, the notes that changed her. Ant and Dec, graying but still cheeky, attended her first home game for Newcastle United Women. “Told you this pitch was magic,” Ant said, nudging her. Mia laughed, pointing to the fence. “It was the boots,” she said. “They made me believe.”
Fenham Field became more than a pitch—it was a legacy. Ant and Dec’s gift, and the boots that lined its fence, reminded a city that dreams start somewhere small, somewhere real. For every kid who laced up and stepped onto that turf, the message was clear: You start here. Now it’s your turn.