Festive football?

Yesterday I went up to London for the second week running. This time it was mainly for the football, seeing Newcastle United taking on Fulham at the Cottage. It was a fairly boring game. there was still the thrill of seeing famous footballers up close and being where the action was - but where was the action? The ball spent as much time in the air as on the ground - typified when it was kicked out of the ground. As one commentator said after a miserly 0-0 draw between Charlton Athletic and Southampton at the Valley a few years back after the same occurence, "unfortunately, someone found a new one [ball]." In the first half there was one effort on target, from Newcastle.
The second half improved marginally, but the crowd were reduced to cheering or jeering not-so-near misses. I looked at the clock as it showed 82 minutes and thought "next goal wins it." This was not because the defences were so well-marshalled as not afford a reply but because the quality was so low. Which is maybe not surprising from two exponents of the long ball game or, as it is politely called, 'the percentages game'. It was fitting that the only goal of the game came from the penalty spot since it certainly wasn't going to come from open play.
It left me to consider other things such as the crescent moon seemlessly inserting itself into the empty night sky or how David Healy is quite chunky for the squirt of a player he is. The kit lady of the half-time kids football had bizarrely a Chelsea FC boot bag - an odd encumbrance from the arch-rivals of Fulham. She had a sheepish smile after I joked about it with a fan sitting next to me. And it was so cold. I had with me some puff pastry mince-filled delicacies purchased from Tesco as my half-time snack, but more on those later.
To the penalty, Newcastle's second winner in injury-time in a row. As the ball shot in and the away section exploded, shockwaves coursed through the muscles of my upper body, but I remained still having primed myself. My legs, not having as many layers as my torso, were approaching numbness and so not as susceptible to move. I kept my cover after making agreeably ambiguous noises throughout the match.
It was an important win for four reasons other than the three points -it's the first time for one week shy of a year that the Toon have won two consecutive league matches; it's the first time since 11 November last year that Newcastle have not conceded any goals in an away match (and 17 September 2006 since that was coupled with an away win); it's the first time since November 1946 that Newcastle have kept a shut-out when playing at Fulham (and their occasional groundshares); and it's the Magpies' first away win since the opening day of the season.
Watching Match of the Day this morning, I felt sure that this game had to be last on the bill, but no, Birmingham's home 1-1 draw with Reading was, which these teams might feel aggrieved at. There certainly seemed to be more drama, even if the two of them are less-established top-flight sides than Newcastle Utd or Fulham.
But, as the saying goes, the result is everything. Newcastle fans left the ground chanting
"Jingle bells, jingle bells,
jingle all the way,
oh what fun it is to see
Newcastle win away -hey!"

I went on to Jon Williams' house-warming party afterwards for his new pad in Crouch End. It is miles better than his previous flatshare above a fruit n' veg shop and in decent surroundings as well, what with the well-appointed high street literally less than a stone's throw away. I rather got into the mulled wine as I deposited the premium cider and a second box of those puff pastry mince pies. It wasn't all out party, just good-humoured chat. I had to leave at 11pm to make sure I made my train and the bus ride to Archway tube station was pleasant, considering I had walked forty minutes, mostly uphill to get there in the first place. I might have satyed the night, but I had an appointment at church the next day which I needed to attend.