Nick Pope’s desperate attempt to salvage latest Newcastle United blunder says it all
When Nick Pope threw himself at the feet of Pierre‑Emerick Aubameyang after the equalisng goal against Newcastle United — you knew the damage was done. That moment, captured in all its desperation, says more about the goalkeeper’s plight than any post-match analysis could. (Geordie Boot Boys)
Newcastle had started brightly in the second leg against Olympique de Marseille, leading at half-time thanks to a neat finish by Harvey Barnes. But mere seconds after the restart, a reckless dash from deep by Pope to cut out a Marseille through-ball handed Aubameyang the gift of a sitter — and with it, the momentum of the tie. The 36-year-old veteran rounded him cleanly before drilling home from a tight angle. (Geordie Boot Boys)
What followed was frantic. Pope literally catalogued in his body language the panic and guilt — sprinting back, shouting, gesturing: a last-ditch attempt to unsettle Aubameyang. But it was too little, too late. Within minutes, Marseille doubled their lead. Newcastle, shell-shocked, never recovered. (Geordie Boot Boys)
This wasn’t the first time this season Pope has been a double-edged sword for the Magpies. Only a few weeks ago he produced a jaw-dropping long-throw-cum-assist — a 65-yard launch to set up Barnes for a goal in the Champions League. For a moment, he looked like a saviour. (tribuna.com)
But football at this level doesn’t reward inconsistencies. And when a goalkeeper’s mistake leads directly to conceding — especially on a grand stage like the Champions League — fans and critics alike forget the good and fixate on the bad. The contrast between Pope’s assist-heroics and this Champions League calamity could not be starker.
Eddie Howe may publicly back him — noting that Pope had “saved us many times” and urging balance. (NewcastleWorld) But that desperate sprint off his line, that moment of hesitation mixed with panic, will haunt supporters far more than any words of encouragement.
Because when the cost is conceding real goals, real chances — there is no redemption in shouting. Just the cold tally of defeat.
