A Close Shave

 It's been rather fun supporting Newcastle United these last couple of months....

It was a fine Sunday afternoon around the middle of March; the kind of day that hinted at Spring’s imminent arrival. The sun was out, but held in check by a stiff, chilly breeze. I was sat in front of Sky Sports, nervously shifting from ham to ham as the clock ticked towards full time. The competing emotions were nerves over the outcome and a pervasive, scratchy discomfort from the untidy facial hair I’d been almost accidentally growing for 63 days now and, despite looking vaguely homeless, I wasn’t keen on going clean-shaven just yet. I’d last shaved on Sunday 8^th January and had vowed not to do so again, until Newcastle United got beat. Never mind Eddie Howe’s Manager of the Month award for February; the real cause for the upswing in our fortunes was my hirsute head.

Then, with 89 minutes on the clock, Kai Havertz (who should have been sent off in the first half for a deliberate elbow on Dan Burn) accepted a long pass from Juninho and cushioned a side-footed volley past Dubravka, ending Newcastle’s 8-game unbeaten streak that had seen us avoid defeat since the Cambridge debacle in the FA Cup and extended back to Man United on Boxing Day in the League. In the minutes after the game, where we’d put in our best display at Stamford Bridge since Cisse’s amazing double a decade ago, I chose not to dwell on the incompetent officiating that had also seen us denied a clear penalty, nor on the pompous, self-aggrandizing virtue signalling regarding the sanctioning of Abramovich by squeaky-voiced ideological irrelevancies like Denver and the opportunistic bullshitters of the Fourth Estate. Instead, I charged up my clippers to get the thick of it off and completed the job with a thorough wet shave. Newcastle may have lost a game, but I’d taken 10 years off my looks with a bit of personal grooming. Aware of the light contemporary masculine fragrance that surrounded me like a halo of aromatic flies, as I biked from Tynemouth to High Heaton, I used the journey to reflect on how Newcastle had reached a point whereby a collection of virtually relegated deadbeats had been transformed into a solid, mid-table outfit who were gutted to lose to the current European and World club champions.

I’d last written about Newcastle at the end of January, after the win at Leeds had given us a bit of hope for the weeks ahead (http://payaso-de-mierda.blogspot.com/2022/01/dancing-barefoot.html). That game was the last before a long break that saw the team paraded as useful idiots in a Saudi training camp, before getting back on the horse at home to Everton on Tuesday 8^th February.  The break had obviously done them a power of good, as the team looked organised and purposeful from the off. Typically enough, this encouraging opening was followed by a pair of richly comical own goals in the space of 90 seconds. At least Lascelles instantly made up for his daft error by forcing Mason Holgate into a rick of his own, sending the teams in level.

Now, used to the anti-tactics of Algarve-Bruce, Newcastle fans have been accustomed to second half performances of loathsome timidity that saw us repeatedly cede territory and possession, retreating limply to the 18 yard line before conceding goals that our impotent attack had zero chance of cancelling out.  Guess what though? That script has been ripped up. We pushed them back from the opening moments of the second half and deservedly took all 3 points. Praise must again be showered on the reborn Ryan Fraser who scored what turned out to be the winner, with Matt Targett’s sensible, unhurried, unflappable presence a great bonus for the team.  The third goal was an absolute pearl of a free kick by Kieran Trippier, who has had an incredible influence on the team since his arrival.  A total professional who never puts a foot wrong, he just shaded St Maximin for player of the match.

After escaping from the bottom 3 for the first time since the Autumn, the chance to put further space between us and the relegation spots was on offer on the Sunday at home to Aston Villa. Courtesy of another brilliant free kick from Trippier, we did just that. How wonderful and warming it was to see a Newcastle United team play comfortably within themselves and still win a Premier League game with something to spare. Dan Burn made an assured debut in this one and looked so at home, at his boyhood club, that he could have been here all of his career, which I suppose he should have been.  Subsequent news of Trippier’s broken foot was a blow, but these 6 points have changed the atmosphere surrounding the club and a sense of perspective is now required. We may still be light up top, where Wood has failed to pull up many trees, but our defence has gone from being an error prone calamity in waiting to a calm, organised and assured unit. For that achievement alone, Howe deserves massive credit.

The whole squad, other than the conveniently injured St Maximin, deserve massive credit for the point away to West Ham, where we looked fit, agile and committed all game. It seems a lifetime ago when Algarve-Bruce’s lads cruised to a victory at the London Stadium on the opening day of last season, with Jeff Hendrick in his pomp. Somehow, Moyes has changed his spots and reinvented himself as a credible top flight manager, so emerging with a point today was probably better than a win last year. His lot got their noses ahead, but an effective performance in all areas saw us get the point we deserved courtesy of the revived Joe Willock, who is looking every inch the dangerous, creative firecracker we had on loan a year ago.

Brentford was the game where I finally began to believe in my team, if not my club, once again.  Obviously this was shaping up to be the best awayday since either of the aquatic jollies at nearby Fulham, but mainly because of the generosity and accommodating nature of Hanwell Town FC. I’ve seen The Geordies, as they are nicknamed beat Rugby Town in the FA Trophy some 15 or so years ago. Today, with the first team away, they opened the bar and put on food for the travelling NUFC hordes, who almost drank the place dry before heading to Brentford and pocketing an easy 3 points. Within 12 minutes, I knew we’d not lose or even concede, as soon as Brentford went down to 10 men. So it proved; we effectively closed out the game.

Two glorious goals brought points home; Joelinton channelling his inner Sir Les with an absolute bullet of a header and the best celebration of the season, followed by the kind of insane, genius goal we’ve not seen since the days of The Entertainers. Schar rampaging down the wing, putting in a perfect cross for Willock to crash the ball home as the fans go absolutely apeshit. We’ve waited a long time for joy unconfined to break out so organically. Let’s hope it continues.

What I don’t want to continue is the situation whereby our owners, the Saudi state machine, continue with their illegal war against Yemen, dropping more bombs per week on citizens of that poor, benighted country than Russia has on the Ukraine. Equally, I don’t want to hear Amanda Staveley offering support for Roman Abramovich now his sports washing, money laundering, cash cow has been taken away from him. Let’s get our own house in order, before rallying support for other squalid oligarchs eh?

Next up was a Brighton side we’d never beaten since both were promoted in 2017. Firstly Chris Hughton utterly outfought El Fraude Benitez, before Potter comprehensively outthought Algarve-Bruce.  Make no mistake, this was a big test and, just as Killingworth YPC thumped in a four-goal, second half salvo to put Percy Main amateurs back in our box, news of a rapid start at SJP spread like wild fire courtesy of Live Scores. Fraser and Schar put us 2-0 up. Despite not playing that well, these goals and some resolute defending sealed the win, despite Brighton getting one back. I simply refuse to countenance debate of the tired cliché of how we’d have lost that under Algarve-Bruce. Times move on. We were 8 points clear of the drop, but with an ominous looking 4 away games off the spin up next.

Firstly it was Southampton away, in a game rearranged from New Year’s Day when Covid ravaged the squad. Hassenhuttl, the only Premier League boss to have twice lost games 9-0, bleated about how unfair it was that we could play our January signings. It was such a delicious irony that, having gone behind to a Stuart Armstrong goal, we roared back to win with a brace of brilliant beauties from two January signings. First, the pedestrian Chris Wood got us back level with an unsaveable header from a perfect cross that was almost the equal of Joelinton at Brentford, but it faded into obscurity compared to Bruno’s outrageous backheeled volley that won it for us. You only see goals like that about once a decade and it deserved to win any game. What a treat for an amazing turnout of over 3,000 away fans on a midweek night.

So, coming into the Chelsea game we’d won 6 and drawn 3 of the previous 10 games, risen as high as 14^th and put 10 points between us and the bottom 3. The result at Stamford Bridge was a kick in the teeth, but statistics don’t lie and safety was, and is, within our grasp. In many ways, I’d like to be able to finish this piece there, but there is still one game to discuss; Everton away. It was inevitable we would play shit again athis season and this was the game we did just that. On a frankly surreal night where a Denver lookalike cable tied himself to the goal, we had a decent first half, but didn’t look hungry enough for goals. In the second period, almost nothing of note happened until Allan got a dubious red card for fouling St Maximin. This was the moment we lost the initiative completely and it just wasn’t good enough. After complacently assuming we’d got a point from a dull stalemate, they showed fighting spirit and won it in the 99^th minute. St Maximin weakly lost the ball in midfield, Burn misjudged things by trying to challenge, but left himself out of position, allowing Calvert Lewin to exchange passes with Iwobi, who stroked it home; a goal too neat and precise for the dross that preceded it. We lost because they wanted it more.

Now, we are 8 points clear with 9 games to go; in the reverse fixtures we won 1 (Burnley), drew 2 (Palace and Norwich) and lost 6 (Spurs, Wolves, Leicester, Liverpool, City and Arsenal). If we repeat that, we get 37 points, which may be enough, but I think we need to turn those draws into wins and ensure we get something from home games to both Leicester and Wolves. Wouldn’t it be hilarious if we get 43 points again? I’ve a feeling we might just do that.