Football fans like omens. There’s solace in superstition. And so we scour the past for comfort, even if its crumb sized. It helps during difficult times. Well, this is a difficult time.

 

Not in the great scheme of things, obviously – we’ve known worse, the kind that would have Newcastle and their media friends reaching for the whiskey and a revolver. But we must now stew for seven days awaiting the final act of this heart-stopping Premier League debut, and it’s going to drag horribly.

 

So I offer a positive portent. It is this: two years ago a then unheard man named Phil Brown took his relegation-haunted City side to Stoke City. The previous week, a poor result at home had left us in desperate relegation trouble. We fell behind at Stoke, and slid into the relegation zone as a consequence.

 

Back we came. A goal elsewhere – for Southampton against Leeds – flashed onto our mobile phones, and spurred us onto a stirring recovery and equaliser. That priceless leveller made sure that our fate was back in our own hands, and we eventually clambered, exhausted but exhilarated, to safety.

 

Spot any similarities? And dare we attach similar importance to Craig Fagan’s goal at Bolton? No, we dare not. Not yet, anyway. Newcastle’s startling capitulation to Fulham means that we enter the last day with things in our own hands. Could we repeat the escape act of 2006/7?

 

So many questions, so few answers. So let us depart from whimsy and move onto the cold, hard facts. On a fresh spring day, Phil Brown assembled his XI thus: Myhill; Ricketts, Turner, Kilbane, Dawson; Garcia, Boateng (c), Barmby, Fagan; Geovanni, Manucho. Zayatte’s injured meant that the versatile Kilbane was introduced at centre-half, while Cousin’s continuing injury concerns restricted him to a place on the bench as Brown elected to keep faith with Manucho.

 

Bolton needed a point from the game to mathematically guarantee a survival that had been certain for several weeks. They were without Andy O’Brien, who was absent with illness. He was replaced by our old friend Danny Shittu, of former Watford fame.

 

There was a minute’s silence before the game for former Bolton chairman George Warbuton, impeccably observed by the travelling hordes. We were some five thousand strong, completely filling both tiers of the Bolton’s away end, and it was towards us that the Tigers attacked in the first half. Not that we did too much attacking at the outset, with the first shot of the match taking place at the far end when Matt Taylor fizzed a thirty yard shot just a couple of foot above Myhill’s crossbar.

 

Play was then suspended while treatment was administered to Shittu after a heavy collision with Manucho – he returned to the fray sporting a large comedy bandage. Taylor sent another shot towards the City goal which flew wide as Bolton had the better of the early skirmishes. Muamba and Taylor had shots charged down by City players, and it wasn’t until about twenty minutes of a fraught affair that our chance arrived, Manucho thumping a powerful header after good work by Richard Garcia that our perpetual nemesis Jussi Jaaskelainen pouched with remarkable ease. He was now also sporting a chortleworthy bandage after suffering a heavy blow of his own.

 

Andy Dawson was cautioned by referee Peter Walton for a foul on Muamba, and City fell behind in a distressingly slovenly fashion. A City attack was broken up and Bolton raided down the right through Elmander – he dragged the ball back to Muamba, who transferred it to Taylor. His shot was smothered but the ball fell to Steinsson, who steadied himself and lashed a fine 20 yard shot past Myhill. A cracking finish, but some sloppy work in not closing him down. Despair washed over the Tiger Nation.

 

Not necessarily the players, however. We should have been level almost immediately when Ricketts fed the unmarked Manucho, who blazed miles over from twelve yards, to the vocal dismay of the City fans. Perhaps feeling sorry for him, Mr Walton bafflingly awarded a corner, from which Barmby directed a free header wide of the post.

 

Back came Bolton, although it was a more even affair now. An Elmander shot required a neat save from Myhill as City wobbled briefly, and as the half came to a close only a goal-line clearance stood between Gary Cahill and what would likely have been a decisive second goal. As it was, the break arrived via some a huge lift in spirits in the stands: Fulham had scored at Newcastle!

 

It made for a happier half time interval than could otherwise have been expected. Foul beverages were consumed – one doesn’t expect CAMRA-approved ales at football grounds, but this was utter filth. It also allowed for reflections on the Reebok. Bolton is a traditional club from a traditional northern place, not entirely unlike us (though obviously with a far richer history), and it appears their battle to marry old with new is not faring too well. Some halfwit had evidently decided that equipping the fans with the type of paraphernalia best left to ludicrous American sports would be a good idea. Shame on them. Shame on the Bolton fans who eschew song and chant with mindless beating of these idiotic objects.

 

That fairly major quibble aside, it’s not a bad place to watch the Tigers. The view from the upper tier was fine, the police and stewards were content to allow football fans to behave as such…and within a minute of the restart, the special type of insane glee and fulsome bellowing reserved for crucial goals on the road was splitting the Lancashire sky.

 

A long ball from Garcia gave Fagan something to chase, and one of his particular strengths is hassling and harrying defenders. In this instance, it was the troubled figure of Shittu, who completely arsed up his attempts to collect possession, allowed Fagan to pinch the ball and he slipped a delightful left-footed finish past the exposed Jaaskelainen.

 

Joy was unconfined, and it visibly galvanised a City side that had previously looked committed but a trifle short of confidence. Not now. Kevin Davies escaped sanction for a crunching foul on Dawson, and after ten energetic but scrappy minutes, even more good news reached us: Aston Villa had equalised at Middlesbrough, while Newcastle’s only competent defender Sebastien Bassong had been sent off.

 

The City fans roared the team on as we established control of the game, forcing three corners in quick succession. All were dealt with, and Bolton almost snatched another goal against the run of play when a corner of their own was deflected off Manucho and towards goal, but happily the ubiquitous Fagan was on hand to hack the ball to safety.

 

Back came City, who came desperately close to taking the lead when a mis-hit volley by Nick Barmby wrong-footed Jaaskelainen and bobbled towards goal, only to smack into the post. Many teeth were gnashed 130 yards away.

 

Barmby, who’d been a characteristically frisky and thoughtful influence on the game, was withdrawn soon after in favour of Dean Marney. He was involved immediately when a well-struck shot by Geovanni was parried by the Bolton keeper. It fell to Marney, who neatly rounded the grounded goalie but from a horribly acute angle his shot flew across goal – sadly, no-one was on hand to prod the ball home.

 

Geovanni’s quiet afternoon ended after 77 minutes when Cousin was brought on as the Tigers swarmed forward in search of a winner. With fewer than ten minutes remaining we were yet again cursing the name Jaaskelainen as he pulled off a brilliant save to divert a crashing Cousin header onto the crossbar, then remarkably he was up first to palm the ball away. It fell to Fagan who took a touch and flashed the ball back across goal. Again, a ball whizzing through the six-yard box found no-one in black and amber.

 

Knowing his side had little to play for and were toiling a little, Gary Megson made two changes, bringing off Taylor and Muamba for Riga and Chris Basham – the latter had a promising chance to score within seconds of coming on after being released on the Bolton left, but he carelessly trod on the ball and the chance was cleared. Halmosi replaced Manucho, whose departure with heralded with just a hint of sourness, and he too was immediately in the thick of the action, darting into space on the left and sending in a fine cross that wasn’t capitalised upon.

 

Four minutes of injury time, and although City looked the only side likely to score, sadly it wasn’t enough. News of Newcastle’s latest defeat had filtered through during injury time, and it meant that the scenes at the end were decidedly upbeat, though tempered just a little with the knowledge that we ought to have won.

 

But the point nudges us onto 35, and most importantly, back into 17^th place. During this construction on this missive, West Brom’s relegation has been confirmed. Middlesbrough trail by three points and four goals, Newcastle by just a point and with substantial goal difference superiority.

 

They travel to an Aston Villa side in poor form and with nothing to play for. We, of course, are hosting the new champions, crowned yesterday. A win makes us safe. A point means…ah, you know all the permutations already. Let’s save them for now

 

Instead, one more omen to tide us through the coming week. As we’ve known for a while, Manchester United will face Barcelona in the European Cup final three days after their game at the Circle. Now that they’ve secured their eighteenth title, speculation about the strength of the side they’ll field is rife. Well, Barcelona also won their domestic league yesterday. They celebrated this fact by sending a reserve team to Mallorca this evening, with Rome in mind.

 

They lost 2-1. (AD)