Can there be life after Lloyd Kelly? I doubt it...
I last wrote about Newcastle United in the wake of the hugely enjoyable and near life-affirming win over Bromley in the FA Cup third round. Since then it has been, as we have all come to expect with this club, a series of euphoric highs and crushing lows that have seen the club progress to the Carabao Cup final, the last 16 of the FA Cup and now sit sixth in the Premier League. However, to balance that, we have to contend with the already small squad being further depleted by the return to Atlanta United of Miguel Almiron, for who we will always be grateful for that insane period of brilliance in the Autumn of 2022, and the David Rozenhal of the PFI era, Lloyd Kelly, who has somehow ended up at Juventus on a deal whereby La Vecchia Signora are obliged to give us £20m for his services in the Summer. Considering we had six years of Miggy for a net amortisation of £10m, those deals represent extraordinarily good value. Though on the obverse, not only are we now denuded of the services of two definite FA Cup starters, but we head to the artists formerly known as Manchester City on Saturday with worries over the fitness of Botman, Burn and Gordon, with Barnes, Joelinton and Lascelles definitely missing. Still, at least Callum Wilson was fit enough to play an hour last week, eh? Let’s cherish these moments, which are as rare as Halley’s Comet flaming overhead.
Anyway, let’s rewind a month to the Wolves game. Unlike the Arsenal first leg that seemed to creep up on me, I was highly impatient for this one to come around. It was all I could think about all day, as I fancied we’d get a good result. Ironically, I hadn’t realised it was a 7.30 kick off, so nearly missed the start. I just got onto the sofa as proceedings got underway, while Ben had made the climb to Level 7 for his seat. For the first half an hour, it was really tight as Wolves appeared to have an admirable defensive solidity we were unable to puncture. However, once Isak had put us ahead with a deflected goal, their one tactic of keeping us out fell to pieces, despite the belated introduction of the impressive Cunha. Despite them creating a couple of chances, including one blinding save by Dubravka, their shambolic back line shipped a couple of goals to give us an unassailable 3-0 lead. As is his wont, Howe made the requisite 5 changes to see the game out, but with an attitude typified by the arriving Trippier barking “no goals” at the rest of the defence. The real cameo was Tonali, in the 93rd minute, sprinting back 40 yards to whip the ball from a Wolves attacker with a tackle as clean as a whistle. At full time we sat fourth on merit and things were looking bright.
I’ve long believed that if you’re going to get beat, you may as well endure a right hammering, so there can be no sense of injustice at the result. Bournemouth, who looked like the best side we’d faced all season, certainly gave us that. I’d not heard of Iraola before he pitched up at Dean Court but hats off to the bloke for assembling a fast-paced, fluid, creative side who gave us a lesson in pressing, breaking and passing at speed in this one. Frankly though, we didn’t help ourselves as only Dubravka, blameless despite conceding 4 and the tireless Tonali, acquitted themselves at an adequate level. The rest were so far below par it was untrue. In the team’s defence, they never gave up, didn’t hide or throw in the towel, but when you concede two goals in injury time, you know it has been a lousy day at the office. As the Cherries swarmed all over us, our harried defence, especially The Paper Lads at full back, were forced into an endless series of mistakes. Despite the usual hysterical social media noise in the aftermath of this chasing, the real question was how we would respond to this setback. I’ve seen us lose at home to Bournemouth before; MacLaren’s last game in the 2016 relegation season was so bad as to be comical. I’ve also seen us bounce back from hammerings, showing passion and resilience, so there was no need to show True Faith style tears of rage at this loss, if we came back from it.
We did, after a fashion and after conceding a soft opening goal, away to this season’s Premier League crash test dummies, Southampton. After watching Percy Main lose 4-2 at home to Rutherford, I headed to Ben’s to watch the rest of the game, before embarking on the Ouseburn Lambic Trail. By the time I got to his, Tonali had scored a sublime goal to ensure the points were safe, bar the obligatory 5 minutes in VAR purgatory before they had one ruled out. As per the usual routine, Howe made his subs once the points were safe, the away section had a jolly singsong, said a fond farewell to Miggy and time was run down. It wasn’t a classic performance, but it got the job done and it showed a degree of resilience after the hammering of the week before.
Unfortunately, the script was wildly deviated from and the wheels came off again when Fulham came to town. Obviously most of the crowd found it hard to watch this one through the floods of tears caused by Kelly’s imminent departure, but what was clear was that this defeat, our fourth at home, was akin to the Brighton loss rather than the Bournemouth one. I’d had a hankering for a 3-3 draw as that would have meant our home and away records were identical, and the hill I’ll die on was that this should have seen us grab a draw, but we didn’t, partly because a few players are seemingly out of form. No names. No pack drill. However, we went on that amazing winning run because everyone played to the best of their ability in almost every game. Realistically, that isn’t sustainable and sometimes you lose games you shouldn’t have. I suppose I should also pay tribute to that odious narcissist Marco Silva for some wise substitutions, but the words to stick in my throat. The very worst thing about this game was the offensive series of racist social media posts by some cretinous gambler who held Joe Willock responsible for the loss. I hope he gets the book thrown at him, if they can locate the prick from behind his VPN firewall. Upset like that and the sight of Arsenal dismantling City 5-1 on the Sunday were the last things we needed before the Carabao Cup semi final second leg. Being rational, a 2-0 lead should be enough, if we play professionally and with intelligence, but an early goal could kill us, especially with the current emotionally fraught state of the crowd.
Things got worse before they got better. Joelinton was out and we went for a back 5. That scared me, though I was pleased to see Trippier and his experience in for Livramento. In the end, the real question should be just what the hell were we worrying for? We got about them from the opening seconds when Isak had a goal disallowed for a fractional offside and, bar Odegaard’s chance, they offered absolutely nothing. As soon as Jacob Murphy acrobatically turned home the rebound from Isak’s astonishing effort that had smacked the goal frame, we were almost there. Howe’s tactical masterclass absolutely destroyed Arsenal. If you don’t believe me, watch Fabian Schar harrying Declan Rice into a grotesque mistake from a short goal kick that allowed Gordon, so unlucky with a speculative lob only seconds before, to roll in our second. From then on, it was party time, not Partey’s time.
What I sincerely hope is that we do ourselves justice in the final on March 16th, after a meek showing two years back. In a way, I’m glad it is Liverpool and not Spurs we’re playing. Firstly, allowing for a percentage of armchair based arseholes who won’t be there in any case, I could handle losing to Liverpool because their fans know the game inside out. Also, they are probably the best team in Europe currently, Plymouth result notwithstanding. Finally, my irrational hatred of James Maddison makes me rejoice at the fact the odious little twerp won’t get a medal.
And so to the Birmingham game. It really made my weekend. Hibs had won on the Friday night away to Ayr in the Scottish Cup. Percy Main had thumped Seaton Delaval 4-1 at their place and finally, Newcastle made it through to the fifth round of the cup. What a calamitous start though, conceding a goal in the first minute, before Willock’s dubious equaliser and Wilson’s finish after Osula’s incredible miss from on the line, then their equaliser that VAR would have ruled out for an obvious offside. At that point, we had to go out as we were seeing Lindisfarne at the Exchange in Shields. They were brilliant by the way. Just as the taxi pulled up, Willock got the winner, and we squeaked through against the Digbeth Kick Boxing XI. As a result, we’ve got Brighton (the club and city Newcastle have so much more in common with than Liverpool) at home in the next round, on the day I’m at Aberdeen v Dundee United. Hope my team wins.
