Southampton 1 Newcastle United 4,’
St Mary’s Stadium, 6/Nov/22, KO: 2pm, Premier League, Att:’
Match report from Sam Dalling @SamJDalling in the away end at St Mary’s Stadium’
Eddie Howe walks into the press room tucked in the depths of Southampton’s main stand. He sits down. He smiles politely. But his eyes dance merrily, twinkling.
The child inside him wants to mount the table stacked with recording devices and continue the chorus of ‘we’ve got Bruno in the middle‘ he’s just left behind.
Ten minutes later, Ralph Hasenh’ttl makes the same walk into the press room tucked in the depths of Southampton’s main stand. He sits down. He attempts to smile but it is forced.
As is custom, the first question is a generic one designed to elicit his thoughts on the game.
He asks what Howe offered up, before pointing to a series of misses and xMetrics.
But he knows.
Two managers approaching anniversaries. Two managers in very different headspaces. Two managers going in opposite directions.
Hasenhuttl won’t reach his fourth Southampton birthday. The club has already decided that; it is ‘when‘ now, not ‘if‘.
Two years to the day his side defeated Newcastle to temporarily top the Premier League. There is any number of damning statistics that could be quoted to add colour to Southampton’s peril. But the one true measure is that they occupy the bottom three.
‘Can you see how fortunes can be flipped Ralph?’ ‘No‘. Time is up then.
Enough on Southampton and the sadness swirling around St Mary’s.
Wednesday marks one year since Howe’s appointment. How times have changed.
From inevitable relegation, to Champions League contention.
This particularly 4-1 was the latest in a string of emphatic victories. Newcastle United was not at its best. At times, when only a goal to the good, they rode a little. Football is a game of ‘what if?’ and there were several times either side of the interval Southampton fans could legitimately pose that question
But Newcastle were clinical, ruthlessly so. Four shots on target, brought four goals.
There is a belief to them now, a confidence distinctly lacking twelve months’ back.
Take Miguel Almiron. He believes. Seven games, seven goals, the opener leading to the 3,200 strong away-end catching yet another glimpse of that ear-to-ear grin he so frequently wears these days.
It came after Mohammed Salisu, involved in a first-half long physical t’te-‘-t’te with Callum Wilson, tried to wrestle his way through the striker near the half-way line. He was unsuccessful and that allowed Miggy space to race towards goal. Jack Grealish’s phone no doubt buzzing uncontrollably in his overpriced ripped jeans.
Ainsley Maitland-Niles – recently switched from central midfield to right-back following Rom’o Lavia’s introduction on the half hour – came across to cover, but Miggy shimmied and dipped inside.’ Some say he meant it, some say Maitland-Niles lost his footing. But that’s what happens when you believe.
Take Chris Wood. He believes. Perhaps the least glamorous, the least heralded of Howe’s signings. Oscillating between being a ‘spare part’ and a ‘bit-part’, Wood knows his ticket for this ride is of limited duration.
He arrived at the interval in place of Wilson, whose illness in the week wore him down (Howe confirmed afterwards that he is physically fine).’ Newcastle United undeniably initially looked worse sans Wilson.
And in the opening minutes of the second period, Southampton were guilty of wastefulness, none more so than Che Adams who volleyed wide after Sven Botman was himself wasteful in possession. Perhaps he is human after all.
But football being football, that pressure was relieved when Wood curled in the second. A fine finish it was too, a right-footed shot in the bottom corner. Two of his three league goals for Newcastle have come on this ground.
Take Joe Willock. He believes. It feels Eons ago that he was on that Almiron style hot-streak, almost single-handedly saving we all know who’s bacon. At times he looked like his confidence had deserted him but this season the performances have been there, just not the goals.
He had zipped about on the left of a midfield trio, combining well with Jacob Murphy down the left flank before the break to set up Sean Longstaff. The latter’s lung-busting run ended in him nodding over.
Minutes after Wood’s strike, Willock had his goal. Again Salisu over-committed, this time even deeper in Newcastle territory. Kieran Trippier – who was, for the most part, excellent yet again (such is his consistency, it is barely worth a mention) – nipped in ahead of Salisue before threading an eye-of-the-needle pass to send Willock in. Three up; game up.
Take Bruno Guimar’es. He believes. Sweet, sweet Bruno. Disruptor Bruno. General purveyor of excellence Bruno. No sooner had Romain Perraud scored what was an excellent late consolation – much to the annoyance of Botman who was distraught at having lost the clean sheet, and the outright ‘best defence in the league’ mantle – Bruno was curling in a long-range effort.
He too scored on this ground earlier in the year, launching his Newcastle career in a style none thought was maintainable. How wrong they were.
Southampton had early on forced Nick Pope into a decent stop, while only Mohamed Eyounoussi will know quite how he failed to level from Stuart Armstrong’s centre in first-half injury time.
It brought an audible groan from three sides, louder still than the one earlier when Bruno had been allowed to control a dropping ball near his six-yard box without so much as a hint of breath on his neck.
The home fans’ loudest cheer was reserved for former boss Nigel Adkins, who, when pressed during his half-time pitchside interview about his future managerial intentions, was encouraged wildly.
They are tired of what is being served up for them weekly now. The high-octane pressing game Hasenh’ttll brought has long since been rumbled.
They are effectively an ‘on the break, long-ball’ side. James Ward-Prowse had little to no chance of impressing the watching Gareth Southgate, who is, until Thursday at least, keeping body language experts in gainful employment.
As the rain parted, and the sun poked past the clouds, the Geordie songbook was run through in order. Regulation victories will take some getting used to.
Howe told his players to soak in what is happening currently. He himself, outwardly at least, says he is refusing to do so, that football changes so quickly that his focus cannot be diluted. But he deserves great credit, whatever others tinged with green say about the riches available to him.
He has turned a defence made up of, amongst others, a relegated shot-stopper, a Brighton misfit, a supposedly (and, as it turns out, actually) class centre half with no Premier League experience, into the division’s joint most frugal.
He has turned a group of individuals into a collective, each buying into exactly what is asked of them without quibble or query.
He has turned pipe-dreams into possibilities. Champions League?
Now that would be a laugh.
Sam Dalling @SamJDalling
