For the first time in yonks, the Lads welcomed - sorry, accepted the presence of - them from up the road for the North East v Middle East derby, and were quite simply the architects of our own downfall. I'm not going to criticise Ballard for the own goal, but the other two were crass stupidity thanks to a crazy short free kick routine on the edge of our own box and a daft penalty.
I'll leave discussions on the off-field shenanigans, as they've been done to death elsewhere to varying degrees of accuracy and truth. As the North East football community chowed its collective fingernails last night, I got a phonecall that informed me of the passing of Jarvis the dog. If you don't know his story, Google it. Condolences, Billy.
Of course it was another "out before it's light" home game, and I got the football honk from the post office van as I headed for Expresso's and brekky - where I heard the best comment in ages - " there's neebody with their own hips who was alive last time Newcastle won the cup." Nice one, Derek (and he's a smoggie). We discussed which gestures our players should make to upset the sensibilities of their precious opponents, deciding that Bruno and Gordon would be the best targets. Take heed, Luke!
Let's just say that our departure point was bouncing at 0800, as was the bus through. Plastic "glasses" and helicopters greeted our arrival in town - as if there'd be mags in The Dun Cow.
Patterson
Hume Ballard O'Nien (c) Alese
Neil Ekwah
Bellingham Pritchard Clarke
Rusyn
We defended the Roker end and kicked off beneath a cloud of red and white smoke, and conceded an early corner which was dealt with comfortably enough. A few tasty tackles were flying in, the game was held up while the linesman had his radio fixed, and once we restarted the ref chose to ignore two fouls on our Lads but give a free for the first tickle on a mag. Playing in the Prem must be a piece of cake - just wait until someone breathes on you and fling yourself to the ground in agony. Patto had to be sharp to get in the way of a header from Longstaff, who fired another two chances over the bar. A mag free kick was hit low into the wall and spun safely into Patto's arms, then Ekwah floated one in that the keeper took comfortably. With ten to go to the break, Hume missed a tackle and they broke down their left, putting in a low cross that Ballard had to stick a boot at - and in it went. Damn, damn, damn.
A few minutes later we won a free on halfway, but failed to see Clarke in a one on one position, and there were three added minutes in which Rusyn was hauled over yet again without any intervention by the ref. I thought we were a tad unlucky to be behind, as although the mags had enjoyed the bulk of the possession they'd managed to fire all but one off target.
There were no changes for the second half, after Monty had done the draw. Within half a minute the mags were caught offside on the edge of the box, we took it short and basically put Ekwah under pressure immediately - and in was 0-2. Silly, silly still. Despite that we didn't learn, and persisted in taking the goal kicks with Ballard and O'Nien invariably the recipients in our own goal area. Look, Patto, just get it up the field. I know it might well come straight back, but it's far better coming back at you from fifty or sixty yards than eighteen or twenty. I don't care if the head coach is telling you that's the way to play, but Luke (especially) and Ballard must be bright enough to realise the short goal kicks are simply not the way to go when the opposition are pressing you into your own penalty box - and you're using up two players who could be useful further up the field. Just pack it in, eh?
With Rusyn a more than willing runner, and Pritch his usual clever self, there was always the chance of getting one back, but Pritch's effort from twenty yards out skimmed the top of the bar, and there was also a deflected shot that sent Dubravka the wrong way, but he saved with his feet With less than ten to go, Ba came on for the tiring Rusyn, and he actually caused the mags a few problems with some clever play around the edge of the box - but to no avail apart from the layoff he found Hume with, but Trai's hard and low cross found nobody as it flashed across. When Gordon broke down the left, Ballard capped off a personal nightmare of a day by barging him over, tight on 90. Yellow card, penalty, 0-3.
Another three minutes were added in which we huffed and puffed while the mags sat back and soaked it all up. The it was all over, we were out, and were left to think about what we'd just witnessed. The game showed where we have to get to if we're serious about getting promoted - but having said that, if it wasn't for three defensive errors there wouldn't have been any goals.
Man of the Match? They had Clarke sussed, meaning that our usual talisman could only manage a couple of runs in the game, while Rusyn ran his socks off, but for me Pritch was our stand-out player.
Just the league, then.
PS check out Ebay - there are 6,000 black and white scarves up for sale. Used only once as a background to the most embarrassing team photo in the history of the FA Cup. Jesus, you'd think they'd won the bloody thing.
