Toon Army soldiers march to Keegan's beat
By Henry Winter, Chief Football Correspondent
All ages could be found in the queue of eyes-ablaze Newcastle United disciples stretching around Gallowgate last night, and it was probably the youngest supplicant, a three-year-old girl, who embodied the mood best. Perched on her father's shoulders, she waved a box of cereal in the air: Special K.
It's madness, of course, letting a tactical naif like Kevin Keegan (not the three-year-old) in charge of an ambitious Premier League team, but then Newcastle are different. The hordes of Toon Army foot soldiers, men who crave breathless attacking football to the exclusion of the defensive pragmatism also required for success, were beside themselves with glee. "We're in heaven, we've got Kevin", declared one banner.
Toon Army foot soldiers march to Keegan's beat
Talk of the Toon: news of Kevin Keegan's return to Newcastle United spread like wildfire across Tyneside
News spread fast, even into local maternity wards, where a new-born was immediately named Kevin Keegan (there was no immediate word whether it was a boy or a girl). Such was the excitement around St James' that kick-off for Stoke City's FA Cup visit was delayed 15 minutes because so many were trying to squeeze in. Messiahs have that sort of impact.
In "Shearer's" bar at the back of the Gallowgate, hundreds of fans pored over copies of the Evening Chronicle reading and re-reading the headline that screamed: "Return of King Kev". They held the paper with such awe, like scholars feeling the Dead Sea Scrolls, touching the words to check whether it was really true.
And then came a familiar sound from inside: St James' DJ had finally found "Football's Coming Home" and the noise just rose and rose. "Keegan's coming home" reverberated around this famous ground. The mind rewound to the Messiah's last coming, when even training became so popular with fans that fast-food vans parked by the entrance did a roaring trade. Keegan, a one-man adrenalin rush, stirs people. Emotion rules. Common sense can go hang from the Gallowgate.
Kevin Keegan rerturns to Newcastle United
Keegan's second coming
Outside this mad, glorious cathedral to Geordie pride, the reaction will range from mirth to cynicism. The rest of football will laugh at the loony Toons for their obsession with such a brittle individual as Keegan. The sceptics will remember his failures, particularly with England, when he made Steve McClaren resemble Sir Alf Ramsey at times, but only the iciest heart would not have melted before the black-and-white heat generated by Newcastle's ecstatic supporters yesterday evening.
Maybe Newcastle fans are the purest of fans, watching their team simply to have their hearts lifted, rather than to see trophies lifted. Maybe it is all about the thrill, the memory of a David Ginola twisting the blood and sinews of a right-back, the sight of Philippe Albert strolling up from the back to chip Peter Schmeichel, and the stock-piling of entertainers like Tino Asprilla, however unneeded.
Maybe football should not just be about meticulous training sessions, tactics boards and in-depth scouting of the opposition. Maybe it can just be about a charismatic soul like a two-time European Footballer of the Year striding into a dressing-room, and lighting the fires of 11 professionals with his presence and rhetoric. Maybe.
But the pursuit of honours in football demands something more. Sir Alex Ferguson and Arsene Wenger inspire their players, and organise them. Passion is not enough. Keegan needs to bring to Newcastle more than fervour, more than exhortations to "go out there and drop a few hand-grenades" (as he did to Paul Scholes, who promptly left his studs in Hakan Mild's leg in an England game against Sweden).
Brain is required as well as heart, defenders as well as attackers. Keegan replaces a caretaker in Nigel Pearson, who was filling in for the departed Sam Allardyce: so a former crowd-pleasing forward has seen off two no-nonsense ex-centre-halves at Newcastle. How symbolic. If Keegan is to survive, he must find a clever tactician, an experienced training-ground coach, a creative central midfielder, another centre-half to partner Steven Taylor and a left-back.
Keegan will also need to have a swift chat with Michael Owen, a scorer against Stoke last night but not the greatest admirer of his new manager. The pair never saw eye-to-eye with England and Owen unleashed a few barbs at Keegan in his autobiography.
Keegan will say all that is history. Yesterday was just about hysteria. It will probably all end in tears again, but the three-year-old with her box of Special K will know only that St James' Park is a fun place to be.
