TF Match Report - Forest 1-3 Newcastle Utd

Sunday, 10 November 2024

Sometimes this football lark is simple. You’ve just got to be patient and trust that the normal rules of reality will reassert themselves. The mysterious upside down where Chris Wood is a world-class striker, Matt Sels is a quality keeper, and the not so Tricky Trees are a top five team really could not last. And so – much to our merriment in a bouncing Bridgford Stand – it did not.

A bit like our utter hopelessness from corners. As our 673rd dead ball delivery of the season came in to the box, optimism was a rare commodity in the away end. Ten seconds later, wor Woody had done what no-one in black and white has done all season and obligingly nodded down to Sir Alex who rammed it in off the post. Cue astonishment. Cue relief. Cue delirium.

And from then on, it was glorious and effortless plain sailing. Instead of having to break down a well-structured home team, we were able to hit them on the break. Meanwhile, the obvious truth of the first half became more and more apparent. Forest were actually a bit shit, more than a bit, and unable to string two passes together without kicking the ball out of play.

A fast break saw Joelinton fed on the right. He cut in, paused, looked towards the far corner of the net, and curled a beautiful shot just inside post. Yacka yacka yacka, 40 million down the drain, the big fella had scored again (as opposed to sticking an open goal wide again, which really doesn’t scan nearly as well).

Meanwhile, the hubristic reds to our left fell silent. Funny what a little success can do. Having been remarkably quiet the last two times I’ve been here, suddenly they were far friskier today, even managing to sing beyond the embarrassing stage-managed Mull of Kintyre nonsense at the beginning of each half.

Amusingly, gentlemen of a certain vintage in the away end forcibly reminded the locals of their scabby Thatcherite credentials. I just hope the lad in the yellow anorak in front of me didn’t have a coronary. He was really muchly vexed as the interval arrived. And didn’t reappear for the second half. My thoughts are with his family at this wonderful time.

After big Joe had notched, there was still time for Barnes to do what Barnes does. On as a sub, he was haring forward on the break. As the ball came to him, we all knew what he was going to do. Everyone except Sels, apparently. Harv cut in. Harv finished at the near post. Harv had torn them apart. Again.

It was the least we deserved.

I admit I was fearful pre-match, and not only because of the way my can of Doom (Bar) was "poured" into a glass so as to leave twice as much froth as beer. In our last three visits to the banks of the Trent, we’d more than ridden our luck. A last-minute penalty, a Bruno winner with a fabulously ignored BDB body-check to open it up, and two of the worst penalties you will ever see to let us win in the Rumbelows back in August. It felt like we were owed one.

And so it played out in the opening 45 minutes. By far the better team, we had plenty of the ball in promising positions, especially out wide. Eddie had gone with the same team as last week – no allowance for the fact that Forest are a different proposition to Arsenal – as Sandro warmed the bench.

Gordon on the right and big Jow on the left made little headway when it mattered. Instead it was little Joe who threatened most, interchanging down the left. A Bruno curler palmed away for a corner was the closest we got despite dominating the play. Happily Isak looked a different player to the diffident slouchy teenager who’s played up front most of the season. Confident in possession, he teased the Forest back line. It was just a shame he did it on the wing, leaving no-one in the middle.

The difference lay in set pieces. While we offered little, Forest were clinical. It didn’t look like a corner in the first place. And it definitely didn’t look like a foul on the right of the box, but Taylor gave it, just as he had failed to give the studs up challenge on Longstaff or the elbow on Tino. The conspiracy theorists among the home support clearly don’t do evidence-based analysis. A neat cross and Jow was beaten to the header. Pope had no chance.

Sent out early to start the second half, the lads were clearly fired up. Bruno curled the ball agonisingly onto the top of the net with a beautiful flick off the outside of his right foot. After the equaliser the Swedish Prince just failed to finish with a falling volley from a lightning break. It could and should have been more.

The two full-backs were outstanding again. Hall, in particular, celebrated his England call-up with the kind of assured and progressive display that begins to suggest we’ve got an actual player on our hands. And when Sandro came on for Willock, he sat in the holding role while Bruno played in a more advanced position on the left. It brought the best out in both of them, just as it had done at home to Chelsea.

I know that the best players don’t necessarily make the best team, but we’re not so overburdened with talent that we can afford to leave one of our best players on the bench. At the same time Gordon was curiously peripheral, both on the right and also the left after he swapped sides with Joelinton.

Whatever.

Three second-half goals, each greeted with more joy than the last, made this one of those wonderfully unexpected, utterly joyous away days. The reason that we endure the 0-0s at Everton, the dire listless performances in the capital, Southend on New Year’s Day back in another time.

To my left, it was a little lad’s first away. This is football. This is happiness. This is why we do what we do.

Enjoy it. Enjoy life.

Matthew Philpotts