Reality bites for new Newcastle United boss Alan Shearer
There was an air of eerily quiet resignation as the stadium clock ticked into the last quarter-hour. It was no supposed to be like this: today was supposed to be a day for returns and revivals.
Throughout it all, Shearer stood stoically in his technical area, clad in a sharp charcoal suit which he was doubtless wishing he could rip off and replace with the black and white stripes to help out Owen.
He resisted all calls from the home stands to give them a wave, and from the high-up Chelsea contingent who mocked his impact on his big day by cheekily demanding that he tell them the score.
He laughed and joked with his own bench and the fourth official at the start, but by the end he cut a figure as grey as his attire.
At the final whistle, he disappeared quickly up the dugout. Today, he had insisted all week long, was not about him.
But tomorrow will be, and each of the seven match days that remain. And if he can somehow pull this one off, they will be calling him the saviour indeed.
