One Spanish journalist claimed that Barcelona had won the lottery when they drew Newcastle. If, by that, they meant a ticket to an occasion that lived up to Eddie Howe’s billing as his club’s biggest-ever game, then OK.
They did not, of course. It was a dismissive and disrespectful put-down. That Newcastle showed little respect for the name in opposition when the talking stopped was what made this tie all it promised to be, albeit minus the goal the home side deserved for the best part of 86 minutes. Then, one apiece before the end. You might call it a breathless finale, if respiration was not frenzied from the off – just ask Barcelona’s defenders.
When Joelinton did prod home 15 minutes from time, we got a tingle of the electricity a goal would have brought, only to be flat-lined by an assistant’s flag. Ten minutes later, Harvey Barnes did score, carving his name into black-and-white folklore alongside that of Tino Aspriila. For Keith Gillespie, see Jacob Murphy, the creator.
Howe said that his players had to leave this night with no regrets, and the only point of irritation will be the scoreline. Can they perform to this level without those Geordie backing vocals? Maybe not, but they’re still very much alive in this competition, and that is more than can be said for Tottenham.
In the aftermath of Saturday’s FA Cup defeat by Manchester City, Howe sent a rallying cry back into his dressing-room and into the stands. He wanted one to inspire the other and he did not care in which order. They listened.
But after 72 hours of inflation, the pin prick. Anthony Gordon was poorly and would not start. It seemed odd when he walked into the ground at 6.30pm and decided against shaking hands with Les Ferdinand. He did not want to spread his germs, he explained. What did spread, when his name was absent from the XI, was a sense of deflation. It did not last.
Newcastle showed little respect for the name of Barcelona as they drew with the LaLiga side in the Champions League
The Magpies responded to Eddie Howe’s rallying cry, and were unfortunate not to claim victory
Come kick off, this place was pumped to the max. There were literal fireworks illuminating a cloudless sky above the East Stand, while bangers popped all over the pitch.
The detonation squad was led by Joelinton, Jacob Ramsey and Sandro Tonali, a midfield who began with clear instruction to light the fuse.
The first 10 minutes of knockout Champions League football ever played at St James’ Park were a blaze of energy and intent.
Anthony Elanga asked the crowd for more noise after one burst forward, but that felt like asking a hurricane for more wind.
This was everything Howe wanted, but at the same time everything he perhaps feared. Fast. Furious. Fun. No goals. Not that a failure to score detracted from the occasion. If anything, as time evaporated, the stakes intensified.
The constant was the sound, just as Howe demanded. Elanga finally took the dial beyond the red zone – not by invitation, but by burning beyond three Barca jerseys. Lewis Hall did the same on the left, and for a period around the hour it felt as if that cloudless sky might soon have a roof within it.
Elanga gave his best in black and white, likewise Ramsey. When Elanga made way midway through the second-half, it was his first standing ovation. He’d had them on their feet long before that.
Fresh legs brought a fresh wave of attacks. Just when it seemed like the tide was out for the night, another. Murphy crossed, Barnes flashed in at the far post. A win was deserved but not to be, Lamine Yamal converting a 94th-minute penalty.
The winning lottery tickets, in the end, belonged to the 52,000 inside St James’ Park. This did not disappoint. Now to Barcelona, where an even bigger jackpot must be claimed.
