The plastic sheeting suddenly shuddered at the force of the frustrated fist that struck it. A stormy-faced Joelinton had just trudged around the battleground’s perimeter, an evening’s work about to bear no fruit. He made eye contact with no one as he took his seat. Bang. Clenched fingers smashed into the ceiling of the Newcastle United dugout.
But his midfield partner, his best-friend, his captain, Bruno Guimaraes was about to alter Joelinton’s mood. The clock had almost reached 90 but Newcastle had one more chance. Guimaraes stood over the dead ball, conversed with Lewis Hall and then turned to Eddie Howe and Jason Tindall as if to ask for managerial blessing.
