Opinion

It’s a good job that football doesn’t matter, because if it did, I might be inclined to go on a rant.

And if I did, that Newcastle United rant might look something like this:

Saturday night at Anfield was infuriating. Just a rage-inducing horror.

I’m not talking about Newcastle’s performance in their biggest loss of the season – sensible people can disagree on that. We were good in the first half, worse in the second I thought.

I’m talking about everything else. Because we’re nothing but a naive gambler in Vegas, playing the occasional decent hand, but the house always, always, wins.

Firstly, had to see Alexander Isak in the stand. Banquo’s ghost, the ugly face of ambition, looking bored and indifferent to the chaos he’s caused. Did he even notice that the two strikers we had to sign at short notice, genuine triers but not up to his standard, had both been dropped?

Eddie Howe continues to work on how to play without one of the world’s most instinctive finishers – but it’s a circle that can’t be squared. I expect Isak has moved on, and honestly, I thought I had too, until this...