TF Match Report - Arsenal 0-2 Newcastle United (Isak 37' Gordon 51'), 7 January 2025

YOUSEF HATEM (@yousef-1892.bsky.social) with the report from a jubilant away end in North London. Again.

Tell me ma, me ma, we won’t be home for tea...

Earlier in the evening, it was heard each time a southbound train spilled its load out onto the platforms at King’s Cross. It was heard on escalators. It was heard in tunnels. It was heard, chiefly, in the back-street pubs just off Euston Road, where supporters shivered – cold night, this – with pints outside The Dolphin and The Skinners Arms. It was sung hopefully, and more than a little mischievously. Conversations centred around how we’d feel about losing by a single goal: would we settle for that, and take our chances in the home leg, or did we need a draw? Few – even those who had started on the Cruzcampo in the morning, and there were plenty in that category – dared to venture that we might actually win tonight, still less by this margin.

By 10pm, as Howe, Tindall and the players saluted the travelling hordes in the Clock End – this was a Geordie invasion, six thousand strong – and as Martin Dubravka did his own victory lap (suggesting that he may well, as reported, be off to Saudi), we sung the same words in expectation. There was nothing cheeky, nothing mischievous about it. We are off to Wembley. Mothers, you have been told.

Two goals, one in each half. The first, a smart finish in off the underside of the crossbar from Isak after a lay-off from Murphy. Death, taxes, and the Murphy-Isak double act. Truly. The second, a rebound from Gordon, beating Timber to the loose ball after Raya parried an Isak effort. Isak’s contribution to the second goal was monstrous, by the way, fully occupying two defenders and still getting a venomous shot away from a tight angle. He was, he is, class.

Outside of the goals, we didn’t have it all our own way. Of course we didn’t. Arsenal had 70% of the possession, and 23 attempts at goal, against just seven from Newcastle. We did ride our luck at times. One particular passage of play in the opening exchanges saw the ball flying around our box as if it were a pinball machine. Jurrien Timber somehow headed over the bar from about two yards out. Martinelli hit a post, having left Botman for dead. But there was far, far more than luck at play. If this is to be Dubravka’s swansong, then it was a fitting one. Apart from one occasion where he flapped at thin air, he was superb, his body on the line time and time again. Botman was imperious: though unsurprisingly targeted for his relative lack of pace, he was invariably positioned perfectly. Burn was solid. Hall and Livramento, likewise.

After the second goal, Arsenal rather ran out of ideas. Much was made of Odegaard’s return having given Arsenal a renewed creative energy. That he was relatively anonymous had much to do with Sandro Tonali: if there was one world-class central midfielder on show, then he was not a Norwegian, but an Italian – a midfield maestro, from Milano, no less (ole, ole, ole...). A note on the rest of the midfield: Joelinton, Willock and to a lesser extent Murphy, were excellent off the ball and as part of the overall defensive unit, but less impressive with it. More care needed, please.

This place is no longer a library. True, it is no bear-pit, but – despite the usual provocations from the away end – the atmosphere here has, generally, improved. So it was notable that, as Arsenal forced a succession of corners in the last ten minutes, there was no discernible noise from the North Bank. Zero anticipation. Zero expectation. Second in the league, at home, with over a hundred minutes of a cup tie still to play, and – so we keep hearing (though there was little evidence of it tonight, something else for which the United defence must take immense credit) - set-piece specialists. Look. Arsenal are done in this tie. Their fans knew it, and – judging by their increasing desperation towards the end – their players knew it too.

Arsenal have a big few weeks coming up: Man Utd, Tottenham and Villa in the next three games (those can be tricky fixtures for some – no sniggering at the back now), as well as two Champions’ League games, and Man City immediately before the second leg at SJP. Maybe, just maybe, we’ve done enough in this first leg to force the League Cup down their list of priorities, and the hard work is done.

Pretty much exactly two years ago – on the first Tuesday in January – we came here and drew 0-0: an angry, nasty, ill-tempered affair which involved Jamaal Lascelles picking up a yellow card for antagonising opposing players while warming up in his luminous vest, and the ball being out of play for a record length of time. Tonight, we have come here with better players, delivered a better performance, and got a better result – one which maybe, just maybe, has caused hope to yield to expectation. We are here to compete, we said back then, snarling and stomping. No. Not any more. We are here to win.

For this North London-based Mag, it has been quite the four days. Saturday at Spurs, and then this triumph at the other end of the Seven Sisters Road. First a win somewhere we rarely do, and now a win somewhere we almost never do (the last time was in November 2010, courtesy of an Andy Carroll header).

There is, of course, another large stadium, in this part of the world, where we have never won. Hope, yes. Dream, if you must. But believe, too. You heard me. Believe.

All together now, wherever you’re reading this, and whoever you’re with:

Tell me ma, me ma…

YOUSEF HATEM

@yousef-1892.bsky.social