Some weeks ago two Newcastle United players- both of whom have represented England in the past- were heavily alleged to have been involved in a fight that left one of them with a broken jaw. An unsavoury incident and one which, knowing our football club, seemed perfectly capable of derailing our promotion chances- which given the two characters involved, and the stories emerging about both of them, was about as much concern as most could muster about the incident.
Faced with this dilemma, Chris Hughton, a man only managing Newcastle United himself because of a series of unsavoury and otherwise alleged incidents, responded with consideration and tact, refusing to answer questions on the subject, generally being professional and calm in the face of sneaky muck raking, the type of muck raking which, in the past, has seen our managers fall gormlessly into the hands of the press and their various agendas, and served to exacerbate the drama, leading to all manner of recriminations and raised voices and loud, slamming doors. So, well played Chris...
...Except, no, not according to everybody. Louise Taylor, of the Guardian and formally of the official Sunderland AFC magazine, has been taking tedious issue with our manager ever since, almost as if she has her own reasons for wishing to denigrate and undermine Newcastle United’s promotion push. Having watched the Sunderland game on Sunday- with Turner, Cana and Richardson putting an interesting spin on the concept of playing football, almost using it as an abstract concept and a starting point for something else completely- I simply can’t imagine what those reasons may be.
If her plan was to disrupt our players’ confidence and unity then her spiteful campaign was a hugely visible failure. As evidenced by the mass pile on that greeted our second goal- Enrique’s first ever for the club- our players only ever read the Guardian for Ben Goldacre’s science columns, and Polly Toynbee on a Tuesday. And the first, Ameobi’s spin and finish from just inside the area, was the result of a concentrated and composed seventy minutes of patient approach play- pass and move, give and go- that aligned with a vocal, passionate and fully united home crowd was always likely to yield something against a mobile and pretty, but ultimately toothless, Forest side.
Two wins needed, now, or we could be up by Saturday if Bristol City go and do us a favour. Danny Baker has been talking all season about the perils of declaring ‘nothing can go wrong now’ during football matches. So I won’t be doing that just yet. But considering what would have to go wrong to deny us promotion and that party on the last day at Loftus Road (I think, knowing how much us thick Geordies love one, the theme should be ‘messiahs’- I’ll be in the robes and thorns, being lectured by somebody dressed as Richards Dawkings), you would have to conclude that it’s all over bar the shouting and bar me being asked to leave the pub nearest Shepherd’s Bush for trying to perform a Cuban Cha Cha with a nearby pool cue.
Nobody expected this when we were getting beaten 6-1 at Orient in Pre Season. (Hey, serious question as I was avoiding the sports press at that time for obvious reasons: did anybody use punning Agatha Christie reference in the write ups of that game? Missed a trick if they didn’t.) And before the inevitable shit storm next season, we should take a second to recognise the job that Chris Hughton has done all season in the face of some incredible asks.
I did notice that, with the crowd signing his name on Monday, he gave it the full hands clasped together, arms raised salute in response. Compared to his reticent, almost forced, acknowledgement of the fans when he heard his name chanted earlier in the season, it felt like a nice moment for him and for us. And knowing how irked it would have left Louise Taylor made it feel all the nicer.
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