It wasn’t supposed to be that straightforward. Newcastle United have suffered so much disappointment at Wembley that the assumption had been that the end of a domestic trophy drought that stretched back to 1955 would be fraught, that they’d have to drag themselves over the line, nails bitten to the quick, the countdown to the final whistle having to be earned second by painful second.
As it was, although there was some anxiety after Federico Chiesa’s injury-time effort for Liverpool was ruled onside by VAR, Newcastle seemed to have the game under control from the start, and never really looked like surrendering the advantage given them by Dan Burn’s magnificent header. His story, the local lad rejected at the age of 11 by the club he supported, losing a finger, transforming himself from goalkeeper to defender, touring the country before returning aged 30 to Newcastle and then, a few days after he had been called to the England squad for the first time, scoring the winner with the sort of header, neck muscles thrusting, that wouldn’t have looked out of place when Newcastle last won at Wembley, is almost too perfect. Enough, certainly, to make people believe in the myth of football as a stage for dreams and fairytales, of heroes and emotion and yearning and fulfilment, and to forget, at least for a moment, how the whole sorry business is funded.
