Regular readers of this section will doubtless be well aware of the variable delays between games ending and our meagre offerings appearing online. While it's true that we do tend to pamper ourselves by indulging in luxury pursuits like sleeping and working, there is another reason for our perpetual tardiness. 

Quite simply the nature of this beast demands that at least an attempt is made at placing our performances in a context and avoiding an emotional knee-jerk reaction to the events that have recently unfolded. That and the chance to sober up of course. 

Were we then to have avoided the police barricades and dashed from the Stadio delle Alpi to the nearest nearby internet joint, our missive would have been the cyber-equivalent of a tear-stained letter. Tonight was as good an example as any of the magnificent futility of following Newcastle United. 

Around three thousand like-minded souls converged on a concrete corner of a northern Italian city, stoically enduring numerous inconveniences imposed by the authorities, and had a great night. And their team lost.

The team for their part did their level best to provide something memorable on the field and in classic toon fashion hinted at a victory before succumbing a dose of reality, in the form of two late sucker punches.

Never mind the clinical press box view; for a while in the second half from the fevered away section a sensation looked on the cards. The support from the toon fans was fantastic and as it built and built, there seemed a growing belief that this was our night. A victory of mammoth proportions looked a possibility - something to bore the bairns with on long winter evenings.

It wasn't to be of course, and the three hammer blows combined to silence the chorus for some time. The free kick award on the edge of Given's box should really have been accompanied by some threatening incidental music - to watch the shot hit the net from the far end of the ground (seemingly in slo-mo) was certainly a cinematic moment.

After that the hope was still evident and the songs still lustily sung, but following the Shearer goal that never was, the fight seemed to drain from those clad in black and white both on and off the field. 

Then Del Piero's deflected effort ended all hopes in the manner of the second goals in the FA Cup finals of the 1990's, leaving us with nothing more than memories of watching the toon in a world-renowned barn of a ground and the prospect of a downcast set of players waving at us from afar. 

Regardless of that, I still wouldn't have missed it for the world. 

Every fan who went will have their own story and ours is no more interesting than the next one, but driving from Switzerland and spending some time in the countryside to the north of Turin before the game was pretty special. 

We found ourselves in a small town, in an isolated restaurant with a Juve-supporting proprietor. Good food, great wine and championship-quality grappa. Friendly conversation followed by an invitation to a local bar where Ingleses couldn't spend any money. A few beers, warm handshakes and then off to the ground. 

Once there, a crate of beer consumed on a park bench in a housing estate - long involved conversations about something or other, then into the ground to shout them on.

Back through the amazing Mont Blanc tunnel, some snatched shut-eye then a flight back to Blighty. Home, knackered. Rather than the slightly ashamed post-Kiev mood, this time fairly proud of the performance and our off-field part in it. 

The group stage stats show we've now failed three times and are yet to score a goal. Those truths are undeniable, but hide the fact that the side have given so much for such a little return. 

The players may have tested themselves at the highest of levels and come up short, but hopefully taken something positive from the experience for the future. Read about the game somewhere else, or watch the video and make your own judgement about players, performances, tactics, selection, substitutions, officiating decisions etc. 

Our Barcelona victory of 1997 is much-prized but proved to be a glorious one-off. Fast forward five years and a victory over Juventus on Tyneside in front of a proud, raucous, packed St.James' Park would certainly put a smile on my face.  

There will be those who lament our inability to claim silverware or win crucial matches and we are no different on occasion. However tonight gave us a measure of pride. Shorn of a win, a point or a goal but at least safe in the knowledge we competed and had a go. It's a crime to settle for underachieving, but not to have a try and fail.