Alan Pardew admits 'silly things got said' in Martin O'Neill spat

The Newcastle United manager, Alan Pardew, left, gestures towards Sunderland's Martin O'Neill during the Tyne-Wear derby.

Martin O'Neill's first Tyne-Wear derby did not end with the traditional drink in Alan Pardew's office after the two managers became embroiled in some unseemly touchline exchanges.

"I think I shall go and climb on the bus," said O'Neill, after he was asked if he and Newcastle's manager were poised for a friendly chat. "I wanted to have a glass of wine with Martin but I'm told he's gone," said Pardew. "Silly things got said on the bench, it got out of hand and it was unsavoury but it happens.

"It's a passionate game but maybe I could have been a bit more grown-up about it. Maybe Sunderland's bench handled it better. If one or two of us stepped over the line I'll apologise for it."

Newcastle's manager evidently said something provocative to his Sunderland counterpart as he leapt towards O'Neill, celebrating wildly, after the home side won a second-half penalty missed by Demba Ba.

"I've never done that before," conceded Pardew whose goalkeeping coach, Andy Woodman, was sent to the stands by the referee at half-time. "It looks terrible but it was just sheer relief we'd got a penalty. Unless you're a manager or a player you don't understand the pressure of this game, a lot of emotion was involved. I was really frustrated."

Pardew, who claimed Lee Cattermole's idiotic lunge on Cheik Tioté after just 45 seconds had been "premeditated", rebutted O'Neill's suggestion that members of Newcastle's backroom staff had visited Mike Dean, the referee, at half-time. "I can tell you it's completely untrue," he said. "None of our staff are allowed in the ref's room. It's not right."

Cattermole, the Sunderland captain, was sent off for directing foul and abusive language at Dean after the final whistle. "Lee can't be doing that, he should leave it to me," said O'Neill. "But Lee's mitigating circumstance is that he felt too many decisions had gone Newcastle's way in the second half. They should count themselves lucky to have finished with 11 men. Cheik Tioté should have been sent off."

O'Neill said he had "no complaints" about Stéphane Sessègnon's red card for elbowing Tioté before enthusing about the occasion. "The derby was absolutely everything people have told me – the hostility, the fervour, everything. It's two points slipped through our fingers but, in a perverse way, I enjoyed it."

Pardew had high praise for Shola Ameobi, scorer of the equaliser, and Hatem Ben Arfa whose half-time introduction changed the game's complexion. "I love Shola to bits, the chance couldn't have fallen to a better person," he said. "He brings important qualities passed down from his parents to this club. Some of Hatem's play was breathtaking; it was his best 45 minutes for us. I have to find a way of getting him in my team."

No Chelsea manager will last under Roman Abramovich's risible ownership

Analysing Russian diplomacy, historians used to notice a tendency to act decisively – sometimes brutally – regardless of whether it was the right course. The purpose was to avoid doing nothing: to fight one’s way out of a corner.

Happier days: Andre Villas-Boas and Chelsea owner Roman Abramovich

Roman Abramovich displays this old historical tendency. He fears indecision, drift – so now he is searching for his eighth Chelsea manager in nine years.

He sets up a “project” for change, paying Porto £13.3million to release Andre Villas-Boas, then panics nine months later, dumping blame on the manager and ignoring the failings of directors, middle men, the recruitment department and, most of all, the players.

The headline on this piece should be “Roberto Di Matteo on the brink” because that is the perpetual state of all Chelsea coaches.

Then, when the permanent successor is appointed, he too should be described as a man “on the brink”, even as he is grinning for photographers in the stands of Stamford Bridge.

If Abramovich were serious about holding his workforce to account he would have looked to his inner circle, and those like Michael Emenalo, the so-called technical director, who are presumably also part of any problem.

He would have evolved beyond his reductionist view that any weakness at a football club is traceable to the poor tortured soul in the dugout.

We all know this is a risible way to run an organisation. It provides shelter for time-serving execs and creates a culture of accountability for some and exemptions from blame for others.

Who, for example, spent £50million on Fernando Torres? Not Villas-Boas. On whose watch was Chelsea's best signing of the last 12 months made (Juan Mata)? Answer — AVB’s.

Chelsea’s statement yesterday spoke of the need to “make a change”. This is a euphemism for permanent revolution.

The experiment with Villas-Boas, who was the same age as Frank Lampard when he was appointed, followed the disastrous decision to sack Carlo Ancelotti 12 months after his Premier League and FA Cup Double.

The excuse was that Abramovich wanted to move beyond the old bulldozer style in favour of audience-winning entertainment.

Nobody has explained, then or now, why Ancelotti, who is managerial nobility, was thought incapable of effecting that transformation.

After a lot of asking around, Abramovich blundered in the direction in the direction of Villas-Boas, paying £28 million to replace Ancelotti and his team.

That included pumping money into the transfer market for managers in the form of the compensation to Porto.

The studious, intense AVB arrived from Portugal certain he had a mandate to dismantle the old Chelsea functionalism and replace it with something more uplifting.

Maybe he did, but the brief expired when he struck a run of three wins in 12 league games and the old ghouls massed against him.

He was sycophantic in support of John Terry over the Anton Ferdinand alleged racism incident and seemed to want to take on Frank Lampard, identifying him as the biggest block to progress.

In other words he created enemies without crushing them: a serious error, as the more Machiavellian Jose Mourinho might have told him.

The sinister silence favoured by Abramovich himself lent itself to uncertainty, first, then instability when it became apparent that senior players were becoming disruptive and defiant.

There are plenty of ways to get rid of a manager beyond complaining to the owner, among them drawing at home with Birmingham City in the FA Cup and losing at West Bromwich Albion.

These are acts guaranteed to bring the whirr of chopper blades above Chelsea’s Cobham training ground.

For Abramovich to think the manager is always the problem, he would have to think it normal that the left-back shoots the intern with an air rifle, the captain is charged with racially abusing Anton Ferdinand (an allegation John Terry denies) and a smoke grenade is thrown inside the training ground (as it was on Friday).

Watching Abramovich’s stewardship, you wonder how he made a cent in business. He seems intent on vandalising his own £700 million-plus investment while ignoring the real oversights.

It beggars belief, for instance, that they should have spent £90 million on Torres, David Luiz and Ramires while also missing the target with the likes of Romelu Lukaku.

Below a conventional corporate upper tier (Ron Gourlay, the chief executive, and Bruce Buck — the chairman) — Abramovich listens to overlapping circles of confidantes, few of whom are serving him well.

Some very capable people carry on with their jobs as best they can but there is always the sense that real power is an invisible force that is always ready to sweep the foundations away.

By any measure Abramovich is an autocrat in a world not built for the expression of extreme personal whims. A close ally of Vladimir Putin, he applies comparable impatience and intolerance to his sporting empire.

Those who can hide their mistakes and display unconditional obedience survive. The front-of-house stooge — the manager — picks up the tab whenever things go wrong.

The awkward squad in Chelsea’s dressing room will be feeling very smug. Another victim is chalked up.

But there is a deeper problem for them and their capricious owner. You look at this Chelsea side now and see a lack of players good enough to mount another title challenge.

With a 3-1 first-leg deficit against Napoli, Abramovich’s Champions League dream is receding.

In management circles, the deal has long been clear: take the Chelsea job, watch your back and wait for the dismissal cheque.

Why the North East derby is all that matters

It is parochial in its intensity, local in its focus and short-sighted in its importance, but it is the only game that matters in the North-East.

The Tyne-Wear derby has few rivals. Every club likes to think its derby is the special one; unique in its significance and who can argue against them.

Every derby is important, special and passionate for those whose bragging rights are at stake.

But for me – and I was not born, bred or raised in the North East – this is one of the best for the sheer “perched on the edge of the cliff” sensation that comes with the build-up.

Anyone who has sat in the middle of a Newcastle vs Sunderland game and felt the tension, sampled the hatred, tasted the sweetness of victory or swallowed the bitterness of defeat will know what I mean.

For the Newcastle and Sunderland fans reading this, there will be some who have already started to feel a little queasy, the pulse will start racing, your body temperature will rise. It’s alright, open a window, you can come back to this when you’ve calmed down!

Before the corresponding fixture last season I sat on a wall and gathered my thoughts – it had been a late finish the night before – and suddenly found myself in the middle of the tribal warfare.

I’ve covered countless North East derbies, but I’d normally been in the comfort of the press room discussing the drama before it unfolded on the pitch. That had its moments.

The local Tyneside and Wearside press packs have their divisions on this matter and there is little camaraderie, before or after kick-off.

The hacks from the Sunderland Echo glare, as the boys from the Newcastle Evening Chronicle circle . As for the Northern Echo and The Journal – my old paper – there are Sunderland and Newcastle fans sharing desks and offices.

Thankfully, it has never come to blows, although I’m told it has come close on occasions. Most of the national journalists were born in the North-East and have their loyalties accordingly.

This time I wanted more fresh air so I was outside when things began to crackle. It started with a few boos and jeers in the distance. A few inaudible chants. More and more black and white shirts began to surround me. The boos and jeers grew louder. I had no idea what was happening, but I should have guessed.

Sunderland is only 12 miles away from Newcastle and is linked by the same Metro system, as well as train network.

Several hundred Black Cats had used public transport to get to the game and, flanked either side by police in riot gear, they were being escorted from Newcastle Central Station up to St James’ Park.

The atmosphere was hostility and defiance brought to the boil. You could see both sets of fans wanted to get at each other – and so did the police who were impressively swift in snuffing out any hint they would.

The threat of violence was palpable. It always is. Tindersticks and matches spring to mind. We can only hope the police keep a lid on it again.

It was magnificent and abhorrent at the same time. For two days of the year on derby day, there is nothing more than hatred, yet it is not so long ago that fathers would take their sons to Newcastle one week and Sunderland the next.

As someone from outside the region, I know the people of Newcastle and Sunderland, Northumberland and Durham, share far more in spirit, outlook and humour than they would care to admit. The North-East can be seen as a whole. Not that I would dare say as much on Sunday of course.

Sat outside St James’ Park – yep used it again – last season it was defenders versus invaders, Roundheads vs Cavaliers, the Mods (Geordies) versus the Rockers (Mackems), regional jealousy and rivalry fused with historical grievances.

This is about more than just a game of football, yet the result is all that matters 90 minutes later. Just ask those Sunderland fans who endured last season’s 5-1 defeat on Tyneside.

Then there is the national picture. Newcastle and Sunderland are probably the two biggest under-achievers in English football and that has helped attach far more importance to the derby than other clubs who have bigger things to worry about and celebrate.

They should have won far more between them, yet Newcastle have not lifted a piece of major silverware since the Fairs Cup in 1969. As for their last domestic trophy, you have to go back to the FA Cup in 1955.

Sunderland lifted that prize in 1973, but an entire generation of supporters has had nothing to celebrate other than promotion back to the top tier of English football.

League titles belong in the distant past and so the battle for local supremacy is a trophy both clubs fight for each year.

For former Sunderland manager Steve Bruce, it was defeat to Newcastle at the Stadium of Light back in August that pushed him towards the exit door.

After last season 5-1 defeat on Tyneside and their failure to beat the enemy on their own territory, the defeat at the start of this season was too much to take. There was also the small issue of Bruce being a Geordie too.

However, if you ask most Newcastle players, that 1-0 win was the game that launched them on their way to a surprisingly successful campaign that will see them entertain their rivals this weekend sitting sixth in the table.

Newcastle are ten points better off than Sunderland in the league, but lose at St James’ Park – oops that’s a third time – on Sunday and they won’t feel like it. This weekend, nothing else matters.