TF Match Report - Tottenham 1-2 Newcastle Utd

Yousef Hatem sees the New Year in with a hard-fought but deserved win in that there London town

Some things don’t change.

The trudge from Seven Sisters to Spurs away remains one of England’s less romantic stadium approaches. Yet, for all that it is haphazard and dispiriting, and for all that N17 on a matchday is filled with people who tend not to be there on a weekday, that walk - long and straight, to the new ground just as it was to the old - continues to serve as a reminder of whence football in this country, and in this global city, came. These are - and have always been - the real places that play host.

Some things, though, do change. A spaceship has been dumped, incongruously, here, complete with absurd touchline advertising for “Tottenham Hotspaw - official supporters club for dog owners”. Is that the kind of thing we want? Do we want anything at all that they now have here? Maybe, maybe not, I don’t know.

Anyway, let’s park that. Stadium chat has generated, and will continue to generate, its own column inches. This - from now on - is a match report.

Spurs lined up with a debutant in goal (Austin - who overall did okay, as it happened) and various children in outfield positions, much of the first team having immediately fallen ill upon seeing Alexander Isak’s SUV hoving into view on the nearby North Circular. Presumably. Still, they took the lead after four minutes. Solanke, one of the few in the starting line up with true pedigree at this level, stole in - got the wrong side of the returning Sven Botman - and beat Dúbravka.

(Botman, for what it’s worth, took a bit of time to get comfortable. Not shaky as such, but hoofed clearances and safety-first concession of throw-ins were conspicuous early on. By the second half, he was - of course - back to being the assured ball-playing central defender we knew and loved).

Spurs’ lead lasted about a minute, anyway. An accidental Joelinton handball led to Gordon getting in on the left. Bottom corner. 1-1. VAR check. Goal allowed. If the home side had any stuffing in them in the first place - the jury, on that one, is hung - it was knocked out of them there and then.

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For the rest of the first half, United were utterly dominant. Tino, in front of the watching England head coach, was the best player on the pitch. Time and again, he had his opposite number on toast. Gordon, too, got vast amounts of change out of Porro on the other side. Joelinton was monstrous in the first period, Bruno and Sandro pleasingly assured next to him.

If there were two players who had been somewhat anonymous, then it was Murphy and Isak. You know what happens next. Two one at the break, and it flattered the home side.

It hadn’t been a half high on quality. Spurs looked like conceding every time we came forward. So brittle. So fragile. So utterly there for the taking. A third would have killed it.

It didn’t come, though, and nor did it come after the break when Gordon - otherwise immensely impressive with Tuchel watching - sent a presentable opportunity into orbit when scoring looked easier. With that miss, and Tottenham bringing Bissouma, Son and Maddison on at the same time almost straight after, arses in the away end began to twitch (and they twitched right up to the 103-minute mark, thanks to Andy Madley’s odd sense of timekeeping and seeming insistence on letting absolutely everything go: rank incompetence, it seems, is something of a family trait).

We failed to tighten the screw. We stopped looking after the ball in midfield. Joelinton, so fearsome in the first forty-five, and Murphy, who had already laid on what proved to be the winner, kept giving it away. There were other culprits, too. We had some smart saves from Dúbravka, and some trademark Spurs profligacy, to thank for the fact that we reached full time still 2-1 up.

And yet, and yet. This was, in its way, just as pleasing as the more dominant victories of recent weeks. As Joelinton and Bruno continued their blossoming Brazilian bromance by running the clock down right in front of an adoring and jubilant away support, as Blyth’s finest won every battle in the air to titanic acclaim, and as Sandro won clever free kick after clever free kick by just being a bloody good technical footballer and inviting contact from the lesser mortals on the other side, we rejoiced in a team that - while able to win beautifully - can still win pretty ugly.

Nine from nine, against Villa, Man Utd and Spurs. What a festive period. What a club. What a time to be a Newcastle United supporter. Are you watching, Brom-a-ley?!

Happy New Year. Lads and lasses, it’s off to a flyer.

YOUSEF HATEM

@yousef-1892.bsky.social