By Keith Pike

The Times
January 19 1998

He was permitted 19 minutes and enjoyed ten touches of the ball, which was as many as it was taking some of his merely mortal colleagues to bring it under control. The fifth of them might even have proved the match-winner, his goal-bound header rebounding off a defender, but, as Alan Shearer admitted: “I think that would have been asking too much.” There is, after all, only so much ecstasy one player can provide and 35,000 supporters can take.

Shearer’s last touch coincided with the final whistle, which brought Newcastle United a victory they emphatically did not deserve after a performance that underlined just how far his team has fallen, with and without him. This is a side that has swapped fluency for fudge, devilment for dross and acclaim for disdain in the 12 months since Kevin Keegan’s departure.

All that, though, was rendered temporarily and conveniently irrelevant by touch No 9 from the king of English No 9s, a header back across goal from beyond the far post. Pistone had crossed from the left and, once Shearer had done his bit and once Todd and Branagan had collided under pressure from Peacock, Ketsbaia pounced to punish Bolton Wanderers with the match already in stoppage time. But it was Shearer’s Header, albeit a simple skill routinely accomplished, that was about to knock Fenn’s Ear off the back pages.

St James’ Park erupted, and if Ketsbaia’s celebrations were bizarre - the ritual removal of the shirt was followed by an unprovoked assault on a perfectly innocent advertising board - there was no doubt what the moment had meant; to Newcastle, of course, but also to the nation.

For those in the Magpies’ colours the issue was black and white: 251 days after his last goal, 173 since an awkward fall in a pre-season tournament had left him with a broken ankle and ruptured ligaments, the local lad who had cost the club £15 million to make good was back, and an FA Carling Premiership match had been won for the first time in nine attempts.

How many thousands of others, though, at grounds around the country, had half an ear on news of Shearer’s return? For England supporters, it was the 144 days to the start of the World Cup that mattered.

An hour after the last of the delirious Toon Army had departed the stadium, Shearer was showered and seated and explaining, in that matter-of-fact and occasionally irritatingly understated manner, what the day had meant. He was “obviously delighted to be back” (obviously), but “more importantly we got the result everyone wanted” (predictably). He could report “no reaction” to the injury (happily) and had been “chewing to get on” once Kenny Dalglish had put him on the substitutes’ bench (a decision Shearer “totally agreed with”, of course). So far, so bland.

Still wearing the deadpan expression that Dalglish, his manager, has perfected, the country’s premier footballer went on to say that he did not think he would start the match against Liverpool tomorrow - “the lads have done well without me [oh, really?], so that will be for the manager to decide,” - and all but ruled out a return to England duty against Chile in February. “It has never been in my plan to be involved in that one,” he said.”

But then, ever so slightly, the mask slipped as he summoned some of the animation and passion that characterises his play and endears him to many. “A lot of people have put in a hell of a lot of work with me in the past six months and a few people have had to put up with me,” he said. “It has been hard work and a difficult time for me, a lot worse than my cruciate injury, when I was out for six months at Blackburn.

“It has been difficult because we [Newcastle] have not had the greatest of times here in the last couple of months. But we are big enough and strong enough to cope with what is thrown at us, and there has been a lot of rubbish thrown at us from people who should be supporting us and from people that should know better. But we’re above that and we’ll get by. We’ll be all right.”

And they probably will. But it is not spite nor media muck-raking that have prompted the countless letters to local newspapers and calls to phone-ins in the North East condemning Dalglish’s team and tactics, and injuries are only so much of an excuse. The simple truth is that Newcastle are at present playing some of the most pedestrian and muddled football in the Premiership.

In between Barnes giving them a sixth-minute lead on Saturday and Shearer rising to the occasion, Newcastle went to great lengths to make Bolton look world-beaters. It is expected that scurriers such as Barton and Beresford will occasionally be betrayed by lack of technique, but when the likes of Barnes and Lee, who trade on a sure first touch and the ability to complete a ten-yard pass, are continually giving away possession, when Peacock could be turned so easily for Blake’s 71st-minute equaliser, when hit-and-hope becomes the principal method of attack, is it any wonder that supporters of a team that so recently captivated the country are disillusioned?