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Futbol

Howe's History Men To Go Down In Newcastle Folklore

The tears flowed and the joy was unconfined as Newcastle United finally exorcised the ghosts of 56 years of failure on a Wembley stage that has haunted them most. When referee John Brooks sounded the final whistle to confirm their 2-1 Carabao Cup win over Liverpool, a giant black-and-white wave of celebration swept around the stadium that had delivered nine successive defeats since Newcastle won the 1955 FA Cup. Finally, they had ended the long wait. It was 56 years since a major trophy landed on Tyneside in the shape of the long-defunct Inter-Cities Fairs Cup, the ensuing years an era when the club has become a punchline and punchbag for other fans to feast on. Now - after a fully deserved victory engineered by a manager in Eddie Howe who has transformed the club in a time of riches under Saudi Arabian owners - the curse has been cast aside. Wembley was barely big enough to contain the noise and emotion that fuelled a magnificent performance, some fans in tears even before the end, many covering their eyes unable to watch as the clock stretched towards 100 minutes and the glorious release of victory. The black-and-white backdrop Newcastle's followers provided delivered a wall of sound as their celebrations were played out to the north-east anthem "Blaydon Races". Dan Burn and Alexander Isak scored either side of half-time to give Newcastle the control they deserved, but when Federico Chiesa replied four minutes into added time to give Liverpool unlikely, undeserved hope, those painful memories of past years were revisited for a few moments. The tension was unbearable at the Newcastle end, but Howe's team managed those final seconds as skilfully as they had everything else, and Liverpool were unable to respond. Howe and his players have secured their place in Tyneside history. The Carabao Cup may not be top of trophy priorities elsewhere, but this is a triumph that will mean everything for a giant of a club and fanbase. And the manager may find himself given a statue of St James' Park, near those of Sir Bobby Robson and Alan Shearer, with the latter living through every Wembley moment with the rest of the Toon Army. Howe is the first English manager to win either the FA Cup or League Cup since Harry Redknapp won the FA Cup with Portsmouth in 2008. He is also the first English manager to win this trophy since Steve McClaren at Middlesbrough in 2004. Newcastle looked to have learned every lesson from their loss to Manchester United in this final two years ago. This time they were ready. This time they rose to the occasion. The Toon Army was also ready. The simple message of "Get Into Them" emblazoned on a flag unfurled before kick-off was carried out to the letter. And it was all accompanied by the endless, deafening sound of a support who have craved this day. Newcastle stories were scattered all over Wembley along with the ticker tape of celebration. Burn completed the finest few days of his career when he followed up his first England call-up at 32 with a thunderous header from Kieran Trippier's corner to open the scoring in first-half stoppage time. He took advantage of Liverpool's inexplicable ploy of marking him with a player in Alexis Mac Allister, who is not far off a foot smaller than him - something that carried on in the second half. As the theme from the film Local Hero - a permanent part of the soundtrack at St James' Park - rang out at Wembley amid joyous scenes, it could have been in honour of Blyth-born Burn, the boyhood fan whose name will be etched in Newcastle folklore forever. Isak was touted as Newcastle's potential match-winner before the game. And so it proved as he reacted swiftly and to deadly effect to sweep home Jacob Murphy's knockdown. And then there was Joelinton. The Brazilian was the best player on the pitch, running powerfully and tearing into tackles throughout, usually followed by clenched fists in the direction of Newcastle's support. Howe, however, must take most of the credit for another super piece of management and strategy. He succeeded Steve Bruce in November 2021 with Newcastle 19th in the Premier League, five points from safety after 11 matches. Howe guided Newcastle into the Champions League last season but this is the crowning glory. There have been 31 managers of at least one game for Newcastle since their last trophy success. The 47-year-old has crossed the barrier that had proved insurmountable for so many. The fierce defensive discipline of Howe's side saw Liverpool dangerman Mohamed Salah reduced to a peripheral figure. He failed to record a shot or create a chance for Liverpool in a game he started for only the third time, after a League Cup tie against Arsenal when he played for 61 minutes, and the first leg of the Champions League last-16 game with Paris St-Germain, when he was substituted with four minutes left. Newcastle could, and should, have added more as they simply over-powered a Liverpool team who looked like they were running in quicksand, this loss compounding the midweek Champions League exit against PSG on penalties. Howe, the leader and hero of this triumph, who is usually ice cool, admitted even he had been sucked into what this occasion meant - not just to a football club but to a city. He said: "I am very, very emotional and have been all day, which is very unlike me. We knew what was at stake for all of our fans. We wanted to do them proud and win the trophy. "I am so, so pleased with the result and performance. We deserved to win but it was tough when Liverpool scored. I was thinking about extra time. We always make it difficult for ourselves. It was never going to be 2-0." Howe added: "We were well aware of history. We wanted to do the club proud. We wanted to score. We wanted to perform, we wanted to win. We are breaking new ground. I thought we were magnificent." Even Howe admitted surprise at Burn the goalscorer, adding: "We worked consistently for two weeks on set-plays just for this game and if you'd seen us in practice you would have said we had no chance. "We couldn't believe Dan Burn scored. He hasn't been training like that." This was not simply a victory for a football club and its fanbase. It was a victory for a city that has waited 56 years to enjoy such an occasion. And the long-overdue party will make its way all the way from Tyneside to Wembley after a day that will live in Geordie memories forever.

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Worldnews

Israel Resumes Its War On Us, The People Of Gaza

Maram Humaid writes about her family trying to come to grips with the nightmare of Israel restarting its war on Gaza. Deir el-Balah, Gaza – It wasn’t a nightmare, it was real. The war had returned, just like that, without warning. The clock read 2:10am when we woke up in terror to the deafening sound of air strikes. A violent noise shook everything around us. My daughter, Banias, woke up screaming in fear: “Baba! Mama! What’s happening?” She was right next to me, crying out in terror, but I couldn’t even reassure her. My mind was in complete chaos. Is this bombing again? What’s happening? Who’s attacking us? In a moment of denial, I thought: are these Yemeni missiles on Israel? Is this strike hitting us? Oh my God. The explosions intensified, and the sound was unmistakable, one we knew too well – Israeli air strikes on Gaza. My husband held Banias, trying to calm her down. I ran to my phone, scrolling through local journalist groups. Everyone was asking: “What’s happening?” Minutes passed before the news started rolling in: a house targeted in Deir el-Balah, a strike on a home in Nuseirat. Several tents for displaced families were bombed in al-Mawasi, Khan Younis, and there was artillery shelling in Rafah. An entire residential building was hit in Jabalia, northern Gaza, and there were strikes in the al-Karama neighbourhood. A “belt of fire” unleashed on central Gaza. Then came the desperate pleas: “A family’s trapped under the rubble.” “A residential block has been levelled.” “We need ambulances.” People screamed for help, calling for civil defence teams. And still, the bombing continued – violent, relentless. Photos and videos flooded in – shattered bodies, martyrs, the wounded filling every functioning medical centre in the Strip. Scenes that we had barely begun to forget, returned. Moments later, Israel officially announced it was abrogating the ceasefire and resuming its war on Gaza. It felt like a blow to the head. “What does this mean?” my sister, who had come to spend a few days with me, cried out. “No, God, no! We don’t want war again. We don’t want the bombing, the fear.” We all stared at the news, eyes wide with shock. “Oh God, enough … enough.” Still clutching my phone, I scrolled further – images of infants killed in the air strikes, burning tents, entire residential blocks reduced to rubble. Oh God, the same images, the same suffering, the same nightmare. War was picking up exactly where it had left off – without embellishment, without pretence, without disguise. Just killing, bombing, extermination and an endless flood of blood. My family around me asked, “What about the north? Will they close the road between north and south again?” We were trapped. Just last night, I invited my father and my twin sisters, both in their 20s, for a Ramadan iftar at our place in al-Zawayda, near Deir el-Balah in central Gaza. It was a simple family gathering, and I convinced them to stay the night, planning for us all to head north the next morning. We had planned a few Ramadan visits, and some errands to buy clothes for the children before Eid and summer arrived. As always, every visit to the north was also an opportunity to explore new stories. Now, all those “plans” were meaningless. In a single moment, life had flipped upside down. The war was back. Planning has become a crime in this place. To plan for your day, no matter how mundane, even something as simple as shopping or spending time with family is an unforgivable luxury. Here, you are guilty for expecting normalcy, you’re condemned to live in a constant state of alert – every second, every minute, every hour, every day, every year. My sister, who works in media for a humanitarian organisation, suddenly realised: “Oh God! I didn’t bring my laptop or my things! What do I do now?” Guilt consumed me. I was the one who convinced them to stay, this was my fault. What if they close the roads? What will the next phase of the war look like? Will the war start in the north? Or will they invade the central area? There is only Deir el-Balah left now. Oh God, what kind of trap is this? My mind spiralled, flipping through thoughts – would we have to wear our protective press vests again? Go back to working from hospitals? But we had already dismantled our tent workspace there. Journalists had withdrawn, scattered between north and south, trying to start over. Wait, what about Banias’s school? I had just registered her in a school last week, surely that was over now. We were back to war. My heart ached. When the ceasefire began, we felt some relief, but never safety. Fear, hesitation and confusion clung to us. We didn’t know where to start, we didn’t dare to plan and every time we did, the missiles reminded us of our mistake. Two days ago, my husband and I went shopping and for the first time, I dared to buy a single rug, a table and chairs, plates and spoons, and a few kitchen essentials. Since moving here, all we had were four mattresses, four blankets, four plates, four spoons and a small pot for cooking. Throughout the war, we refused to get anything else. Our clothes were stacked on a sheet spread on the floor in a designated room, divided into sections for each of us, we jokingly called it “the dressing room”. It was always a mess, organising the clothes on the floor was a daily battle and every time we stepped into the room, my husband and I would say: “We need a closet.” A closet was a grand luxury, it took a ceasefire for us to even think about buying one, although we were hesitating over whether to stay in the south or move north. We always chose to travel light, ready to flee at any moment. But just yesterday morning, I finally packed away our winter clothes and told my husband: “Let’s buy a closet.” Now I had my answer. This renewed bombing meant that the closet was no longer an option, chaos awaited instead … the chaos of my thoughts, my shattered plans, the chaos of a life I could no longer control, no matter how hard I tried. And despite all the destruction and ruin around us, as if it wasn’t already enough, we know we can no longer dream, no longer plan, no longer wish for anything, no longer look forward to anything. All we want is do to survive. Follow Al Jazeera English:...

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Commentary: While The Flame Still Burns: Valedictory Ceremonies For Senior Lawyers

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