Newcastle United 6 (wooh...) Aston Villa 0

Football gives you this type of game four, maybe five, times a life time. When the performance exceeds your expectations is one thing, when everything falls for you another. You get both these things and you’re on to a winner. But rarely does football gift you such a delicious choice of opposition. There is only one club this game could have been any sweeter for having being played against and Sunderland at least had their reasons for revelling in our relegation.

Fifteen months ago we were traumatised at Villa Park as our downfall was confirmed; the loathing for every player and the people in charge just about matched by our loathing of the home fans who had taken it upon themselves to be the personification of the national sneers directed at our supporters. The most famed picture of that day is a witless banner aimed at our fans asking who our next messiah was going to be. Ooh, I don’t know lads, is Martin O Neil free? “We’ll meet again” got an airing too and they were right- though given how much they were looking forward to it, it seemed a bit odd to wander off without even saying goodbye with half an hour of this game left to play.

There was tremendous spite in the air at St. James’ Park yesterday. I have complained for years about how critical and picky our fans can be with our players arguing that if it were instead transferred to the opposition it could form the basis of a home crowd truly capable of being a genuine positive influence. Yesterday this happened and, not merely responsive, the players seemed complicit in it; never dirty, but mean and steely eyed, clearly as determined as we were to make a point.

And then you consider that, along with the team spirit and attitude being spot on, some of our players are really good. Jose Enrique, for example. Enrique is a player who doesn’t always do the easy thing in the dopey manner of the timid defender adept at conceding needless set pieces in awkward areas, or the elaborate thing is the manner of a lily livered ditherer too precious to put his foot through the ball, but always, always does the right thing. His decision making is as sharp as Paul the octopus’ and his timing so immaculate that were he writing this report he would surely have refrained from such a hackneyed and dated Paul the Octopus reference. I’m a bit in love with him.

Williamson looks the part- full of busy and strong in the tackle- and is forming a neat little partnership with Collocini, Perch was much improved from his poor game on Monday night and Smith, Barton and Nolan were superb. Even Xisco put a shift in when he came on. And there was Andy Carroll- he looks the real deal doesn’t he? Inventive and bright throughout, always working always looking for the ball, he took all three goals excellently. Emile Heskey’s mournful performance (wherein he came on and then fell over and then it was full time) seemed to be showcasing something about an international passing of the baton, one which could have utilised Richard Dunne as a conduit if only he’d managed to get within baton passing distance of our number nine at any point during the game.

As for Villa? Oh dear. Trouble ahead for them, they could even, if they’re not careful, do a Newcastle. Certainly if they hire Gareth Southgate or Bob Bradley as coach then problems loom. The motivation for the Southgate speculation- his time there as a player- is reasonable enough, the talk of Bradley- his shared nationality with their owner- less assured. If being American is the requisite, Lerner should have seen me if the after the fifth goal yesterday, running up and down the stairs collecting high fives like a good ‘un. I’d be grateful for the opportunity to give managing them a shot; you’re darn tootin’ we’ll bastard well meet again.

Weekend Review (First Day)

“They shouldn’t have too much trouble if they’re only playing Young Boys,” said Andy Gray over a visual trail for Spurs’ mid week Champions’ League qualifier, wisely eschewing the other obvious joke about the tie as already made by everybody on the internet, and in the process marking our theme for the day: youth, and the fading of it.

A new Sky Premiership season and Andy’s feeling his age. There were already hints being dropped with his bitter World Cup ruminations- holding midfielder players and the Jabulani bearing his wrath- and when he refused to get with Ian Darke’s down with the kids lingo about Joe Hart’s ‘showreel’, referring instead to a stuffily old fashioned ‘scrapbook’, it was apparent we weren’t going to be discussing Radio 1’s weekend in Ayia Napa or the new Iphone anytime soon with our co-commentator.

Accordingly the reminiscing began- Darke and Gray taking a wistful look back to their first Monday night together, not spent at the picture house or the local disco hall, but at Maine Road watching Andy Sinton snatch QPR’s goal in a 1-1 draw. People weren’t scared to be romantic in those days. After spending the summer being reminded by Sky on how important those Monday night fixtures were for the mood and well being of the nation it felt only right and proper to spend much of the weekend bathed in nostalgia. It certainly took me back- was it only February this year I watched Wigan beat Liverpool at the DW stadium on a Monday night? March actually.

Speaking of Wigan: away from self-aggrandisement, Sky’s story of the weekend was Blackpool, comprehensive winners at the DW stadium; or rather their story was Kian Kelly, young Blackpool fan pictured after the game celebrating on his dad’s shoulders. It was a nice image, but Sky wanted more so said child and father were packed up and delivered to Blackpool’s training ground where the child, with his older brother looking on, was presented with a ticket for Saturday’s match at Arsenal. Heart warming stuff for everybody but Kian’s older brother, who looked a bit miffed at not getting a ticket himself and though one done one’s best to enjoy the joy of young Kian, one could not help but imagine the tense scene about to take place during the car journey home. Sky may consider all of this feel good fluff now, but how long such bonhomie survives in the face of several anxious calls to their publicity department regarding the possibility of securing an additional child’s ticket for Saturday’s fixture remains to be seen.

This isn’t all they’ve been talking about in Blackpool. Over on the BBC, Robbie Savage continues his very hardest to be ‘straight talking’- mistaking, in the manner famed by various Big Brother contestants over the years, obnoxiousness for ‘just being honest’- and, after one argument with an aggrieved Blackpool fan, advised the caller he could go to the pub and tell all his friends he’d slagged off Robbie Savage. Suddenly his presence on the show seemed a little less inexplicable. I had thought that (the very good) Mark Champman’s confessing to a secret liking for Craig Bellamy after hearing an interview with him on BBC had been designed as a cryptic clue as to what was being done with Savage’s public image here- a sort of remoulding of a bombastic, much loathed figure in to a loveable roughish type in the manner of a Chris Evans or a Reggie Kray. Instead, he is on board to help one of the nation’s flagging industries- if the idea is that anybody who feels inclined to criticise ‘Sav’ after hearing him on 606 should invite their friends to the local club that evening to tell them about it, then the previously moribund pub trade will soon be booming again and notices of its demise premature- unlike similar notices about 606’s.