The Europa League final might not have had a trophy on the line, but for Newcastle, the reward was far more substantial. Instead of a silver cup, they’re eyeing a golden opportunity.

Gaining three more points will secure their spot in next season’s Champions League. Both teams understood the stakes in this midday showdown. However, Chelsea arrived unprepared, aside from the misstep by Nicolas Jackson, who effectively hindered his team with a first-half dismissal.

Despite the advantage, Newcastle struggled to capitalize. Jackson’s folly left the hosts in disarray—leading by one, they wavered between holding steady and pushing forward.

Like 52,000 others, the captain watched with equal delight and relief as his 90th-minute deflected strike sailed over Robert Sanchez for 2-0. He pointed to the skies, either in thanks for the good fortune or recognition of where Newcastle will be jetting come September. 

It was most likely the former, but this was the goal that will have the Toon Army checking their passport expiry dates. It was the goal that took them to the boarding gate of a competition that will have such a major impact on their future.

For much like the European final between Manchester United and Tottenham in Bilbao later this month, it always felt like the victors here would be as good as guaranteed a place in the Champions League. With that, stick a zero on the transfer budget, without the need to sell a couple of hotels. The stakes and the tension could not have been any higher.

You might even have been in Bilbao, such was the heat that beat down on St James’ Park. It was even hotter come kick-off, a furnace of black-and-white fury, stoked by nerves and anticipation. What helped was having the coolest man in the stadium. After just 112 seconds, Sandro Tonali gave Newcastle a lead that had felt inevitable from the moment of the first whistle.

While Italy had Pope Leo and his first Vatican address, Newcastle had Saint Sandro and his own Sunday sermon. The home start was faster than anything they have produced this season, and that is a competitive field. Big nights here against Chelsea and Arsenal in the Carabao Cup were particular blistering. But this threatened to rip the skin right off the Blues. Tonali was the early torch-bearer.

Romeo Lavia thought he had time when receiving a pass a few yards outside his own penalty area. He did not. Tonali shot towards the unsuspecting midfielder quicker than the Geordies had the club’s offer a free pre-match pint. It was Chelsea, however, who looked legless.

Tonali won the ball, gave it to Guimaraes and made for the goalmouth like an Italian late for mass, where Jacob Murphy’s wicked delivery landed kindly for the midfielder to prod home. Not even the Pope would have enjoyed the worship bestowed on Tonali by the Toon Army.

But a goal inside two minutes felt like the easy part, maintaining the intensity for another 88 would be far harder. In fact, it proved impossible, especially with Anthony Gordon and Sven Botman making their first starts since before the Carabao Cup final.

Chelsea were just gaining control when Jackson lost his own and landed an elbow in Botman’s face in the 33rd minute. There was no need to do what he did. A centre-back roughing up a centre-forward, maybe. But a striker trying to intimidate a 6ft 5ins defender who was always going to come back for more?

What gave the game away for Jackson was the glance towards Botman a split-second before contact, betraying his intent. John Brooks thought it was a yellow in real-time but Stockley Park had access to the X-rated replays and so, after a pitchside review, off he went.

Chelsea boss Enzo Maresca was booked soon after. It could have been for his touchline protests or turning up dressed like a salmon. Either way, Jackson had sold his manager and his team-mates down the river,

But then, in the second half, as Maresca flooded his midfield, they reversed the tide. It was Newcastle who looked like fishes out of water. Howe made a series of changes, each bringing about marginal improvement but not the dominance they had earlier exerted. They continued to flirt with chaos and disaster, for a draw would have felt like a defeat.

Enter Newcastle’s own Pope, Nick, and his divine intervention. A spectator for an hour, he needed every millimetre of his fingertips to deny Marc Cucurella an equaliser. 

Then, the same again, this time brushing over from Enzo Fernandez. Howe made a point of later praising his goalkeeper, but Chelsea still did not do enough to trouble him, for all of their second-half intent. What they needed was a striker on the pitch. He, though, was back in the dressing-room.

In fairness, they never gave up in their chase for that winning lottery ticket, but they were hit by a bus when Guimaraes’ shot clipped Malo Gusto and landed in the Gallowgate End goal. With it, Newcastle had take-off.