Dave’s Ramblings – Newcastle United

First of all, it’s miles away. And I don’t mean a ‘bit of a drive’ miles, I mean so far north that Santa could probably watch the match from his bedroom window while checking his naughty list.

 

Then there’s the ground itself. Away fans are placed so high up that Newcastle must have clearance from air traffic control before letting us take our seats. On a clear day you’re above the clouds; on a bad day you’re wondering if oxygen masks will drop from above. That is, of course, if you’ve survived the climb to your seat. If you’ve never been, trust me, there are more stairs than an Olympic training facility. I honestly feel sorry for the cleaners. I hope their union has got them piece work. They will be millionaires! 

 

By the time you reach the top, actually seeing the match becomes optional. The players look smaller than ants, and the Chelsea shirts are reduced to tiny blue pixels scuttling around in the distance. Binoculars would be useful. A telescope might be better.

 

And finally, there’s the small matter that we almost never do very well up there. Maybe it’s the thin air. Maybe it’s the stupid accent. Or maybe it’s the fact that everyone dresses like a barcode. Yes, that’s probably it. The constant beep beep of tills as they walk to the ground is distracting enough to put anyone off their game.

 

The first half was the same as Leeds, like a cursed copy and paste. This time, at least, Maresca wasn’t guilty of crimes against team selection. And whatever he told them at half time, after booting them back out early like they’d set the fire alarm off, clearly worked.

 

From minute one to 45, Newcastle battered us. We didn’t help ourselves as we were slow, careless, and doing everything possible to make them look like peak Barcelona. Two goals down at half time, I told a mate it couldn’t possibly get any worse. A bold claim, I know. Amazingly, for once, it was correct.

 

They pressed us everywhere, giving us absolutely no time on the ball. Somewhere in the pre-match meeting, they’d clearly circled Cucu in red pen, because most of their attacks came down his side. As a result, his attacking contribution existed purely in theory.

 

This was a textbook “game of two halves,” the first we’d rather forget ever happened, and the second where we finally showed up.

 

Four minutes into the half and a brilliant free kick from Reece dragged us straight back into the game. Suddenly, football was back on the menu.

 

Things did get a bit spicy when they screamed for a penalty after Trevoh bodychecked Gordon in the box. Maybe my blue-tinted glasses are doing some heavy lifting here, but I’m struggling to see a penalty. A strong breeze? Possibly. A foul? Absolutely not.

 

Not long after, Pedro raced through on goal and calmly slotted it past Ramsdale, after one of their defenders generously remembered he’d left the oven on and slipped at the worst possible moment. 2-2… cue scenes of mayhem amongst our fans. 

 

That set up a proper grandstand finish, with the game so stretched it looked like it might snap. It could genuinely have gone either way, especially when they somehow missed an absolute sitter. In the end, the result was probably a fair reflection of the game as a whole. The referee even joined by finally realising that our opponents were also allowed to receive yellow cards. A real plot twist.

 

My takeaways from the game…

 

Our relationship with first halves is starting to get baffling. We play them like they’re a minor inconvenience before the real game starts. Add in a referee who was determined to give them every 50/50 decision, and you had a perfect storm. He wasn’t to blame for the goals, but the only thing he didn’t give them all half was a booking.

 

The tannoy system at St James needs looking at. Apparently surviving the climb up wasn’t enough. They also decided to try finishing us off by deafening us. I love my music loud, but when your ears start to bleed you know it needs to be dialled down just a tad!

 

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought the whole point of VAR (apart from its secondary role of helping Liverpool) was to fix problems quickly. The review for their second goal took so long I could’ve gone for a three course meal, argued about dessert, and still made it back before the decision. If it’s genuinely that close, surely the benefit of the doubt should go to the defending team. Unless, of course, it’s Liverpool. 

 

Have a great Christmas! 🎅 UTC 💙