IT WAS a far better point for Boro than for Newcastle. Alright, you can argue that it was chance missed to overhaul the team immediately above in the table and that it O'Neil hadn't been the subject of gypsy curse that has destined him to never score it would and should have been all three points; or even that Boro were lucky to get out of jail with an offside leveller after a Land of the Giants defence leaked a goal when they were out-jumped by a midget at a set-piece.
But in terms of the statistics, the current dynamics in the league table and the hothouse parochial politics and banter across the workplace barricades - the 'Three Legends factor' - it was a good day's work by a spirited side that are increasingly resilient and resourceful.
First the stats: For upwardly mobile Boro, coming from behind in itself showed a new steel. It also took their recent resurgent run to six games unbeaten and only one defeat in nine on the road, a solid if rarely spectacular sequence that has rebuilt confidence, carved out a cushion behind and given hope for the future, especially now that the much needed specialist marksman has been recruited.
For stuttering Newcastle though - whose plight is starting to be noticed by those in the national press that can see through the fog of delusion and spin - a point was little short of a disaster. They have won just one in 11 - the FA Cup replay against Stoke - and taken just three points from 24. The goal was not just the first under Keegan (as he never arrived until half-time he can't been given credit for Big Nige's win over Stoke) but also the first in the league this year. This is a team that is vulnerable.
In political terms it was a more than acceptable result for Boro as it kept the momentum going and added to the growing sense of renewed optimism. Boro continue to combine confidence when playing the ball around and some crisp movement going forward with solidity and physicality at the back and an high-tempo industry in the middle. The basic building blocks of a good side are there.
But Newcastle? The second coming of Keegan appears to have lost all momentum already. The cavalier football has produced one goal in four games and perhaps that is no surprise when they have failed to break from Fat Sam's tactics and are hoofing the ball forward to little effect. To Michael Owen. They are shaky at the back, tactically confused and lacking any belief. So much for the inspirational qualities of the Messiah. Maybe that is why the whistle heralded a small but explosive ripple of habitual booing. It is a dysfunctional club: an unbalanced squad, a manager who looks a busted flush appointed on the basis of sentimental populism and a corporate structure with built in conflict and confusion. Some observations:
These Things Even Themselves Out: Newcastle won't think so. Owen's goal after four minutes should have stood. Schwarzer just came to collect but fumbled and spilled the ball at his feet. He does that. Often. He did it against Wigan. Luckily the unwritten rule that keepers in the air are a protected species kicked in and the goal was ruled out, one of a series of breaks for Boro. Huth's equaliser looked offside and even if it wasn't then Gook jumping aimlessly and failing to make contact obstructed Carr as the ball sailed over. On the other hand the Newcastle goal came from a free kick that wasn't after Luke Young put in a good tackle.
That aside, I Iike Mike Dean, if only because he looks like Jasper Carrott. And because he lets loads go, which in a derby game is a recipe for a good old fashioned tear up. Either because he has a liberal attitude to physical contact or because he misses so much, Dean allowed Boro to terrorise the timid Geordies, especially in a robust first half. Wheater systematically monstered the Last of the Mohicans, Alan Smith. He kicked him all over the park, steam-rollered him from behind, wiped him out in tackles and battered him in aerial challenges. It was brilliant. There was one incident when he flattened him going for a header and by the time Smith had picked himself up the ball was just coming back down and as it bounced between them Wheater wiped him out again.
It wasn't just at the back. The thud and blunder encounter was made for Lee Clattermole who, especially in the frantic first half, fizzed and crashed and snarled his way through the middle third, scything his way through the opposition. Rochemback was getting his foot in too. At one point he appeared to rake his studs down the back of Smith's legs - accidently naturally - after the blue lipped one had wriggled away. And Boro pretty much got away with it all without Jasper handing out any killer balls .
Rock Solid: Luke Young lacks only one thing: a stone related and geographically specific nickname. Boro's imposing new centre-back pairing are currrently trading under the headline easy labels of the Redcar Rock and the Berlin Wall while the raw meat eating testosterone powered back line is boosted by the Alpine Hardman. Luke needs to get igneous and find a granite tag if he wants to fit into this unit. And grow a foot. And shave his head. And eat babies.
Boro's current defence is as hard as I can remember. The physical presence, height and aggression is a delicious pleasure. We've had our share of imposing stoppers in the past - Boam, Mogga, Pearson and Festa were all nails - but rarely have we paired up two together in the middle and added someone like the Mad Dog alongside them. No more are Boro a soft touch. No wonder we are top of the yellow card table.
Of course, that doesn't explain how a relative munchkin can outleap these cloudscrapers to head in from a dead ball and twice get free from corners to get the ball in the net only to have it disallowed. It is a work in progress.
Can You Manage Mate? I don't usually see the manager's post-match press conferences as normally I am in the scrum down the tunnel looking for player quotes. But we went mob handed to Sid James' so I had the opportunity to observe the bosses in action and it must be said that the body language and semiotics were intriguing.
Keegan does not look like a boss appointed on a wave of 'biblical' euphoria just a fortnight ago. He was supposed to bring zeal, passion and energy, an emotional fuel that would galvanise a club that had become stifled by a McClarenlike caution. In fact he already looks tired and world weary and sounds laboured and defensive. He appears drawn, tense and guarded and all too ready to retreat into excuses and rationalisations when by rights he should still be buzzing. Rather than a popular appointment in the box fresh first flush of the honeymoon period he looks like a manager two or three years into the job and weighed down with undelivered expectation and the inevitability of the sack. The fire has gone out there I think.
In contrast Gareth Southgate breezes in, is open and confident. He explains his tactics, gives an incisive and well balanced assessment of the game - including where Boro were weak - and laughs at suggestions that he had been 'savaged' by Jonathan Woodgate. The boss declined the opportunity to get into a war of words and defused the story neatly, explains they had a good long chat before he left the club on good terms, that neither have any problem with the other and adding with disarming honesty that he thinks Spurs is a good move for Woody and hopes it goes well. He keeps it brief and light, he knows that for the national hacks Keegan's continued quest for a victory is the big story of the day and doesn't seem to resent that Boro are just a couple of lines of padding at the end. I like him.
Badge To The Future: I wish players wouldn't kiss the badge. I all but a few rare cases it is a sickening act of cringe inducing hypocrisy. I especially wish Alan Smith wouldn't do it. The serial symbol snogger has made a sickening show of shirt smacking loyalty to Leeds, Manchester and now Newcastle. Maybe it is the United bit rather than the name of the town that commands his affection. Look out Hartlepool, the shouty non-scoring striker could be kissing the badge at the Vic within a couple of seasons.
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