Newcastle fans’ dream of playing in another Carabao Cup final looks over after a 2-0 defeat by Manchester City. Photograph: Stu Forster/Getty Images

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Newcastle fans’ dream of playing in another Carabao Cup final looks over after a 2-0 defeat by Manchester City. Photograph: Stu Forster/Getty ImagesNewcastle UnitedAnalysisCity defeat a reminder Newcastle have entered a level where it’s eat or be eatenAndy Brassell at St James' Park

In terms of cold, hard silverware, domestic cups might be as good as it gets after Carabao Cup semi-final first-leg loss

There is nothing quite like the first time. Or the first time in living memory, at least. Of all the strides taken by Newcastle since the Saudi takeover in 2021, the Carabao Cup will always be the stop on the road sprinkled with the most magic. Champions League football is more than nice, the return of adventure to following this club appreciated as much as the swelling of the club coffers, in these days when every fan at every club feels like a de facto bean counter as well as a cheerleader.

But after those 56 years without a trophy, how could it be any other way? When Eddie Howe’s team finally broke that desperate drought on 16 March last year, it was a lifetime highlight for all different generations.

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With St Patrick’s Day to follow it felt like a celebratory bank holiday had been declared by the Geordie Nation, the throng in pubs and bars from Osborne Road to the Bigg Market teeming out on to the streets like champagne bubbles escaping from the neck of a bottle.

If the scorer of the decisive goal on that historic day, Alexander Isak, has gone under less than amicable circumstances, the feeling for this competition remains.

The roar of relief that welcomed Lewis Miley’s stoppage-time header into the Gallowgate net in the quarter-final against Fulham was about more than just that game in itself. It was about a third semi-final in four years, the further cleansing of the not winning anything, not bothered about winning anything of Mike Ashley’s interminable tenure.

As the teams took to the field the choreo in the Leazes End depicted a glitter outline of the Tyne Bridge with the legend ‘Gannin’ Alang Wembley Way’ beneath, underlining the meaning, even if the atmosphere at St James’ Park may never again hit the decibel levels in the Carabao Cup of that first semi-final home leg against Howe, when Southampton were edged out on the last day of January 2023 to a tumult on the way to a first trip to Wembley since 1999.

The other not-to-be-repeated element from 2023 is, of course, the level of opposition.

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Yoane Wissa could have given Newcastle an early lead at St James’ Park. Photograph: Robbie Jay Barratt/AMA/Getty Images

If the presence of money has masked what are locally considered near-miracles under the four and a bit years and counting of Howe, retaining their title by emerging victorious from a final four also containing City, Arsenal and Chelsea would have to be acknowledged as a feat of genuine substance in the wider football world.

That is a big part of why the Carabao Cup remains special in NE1. Not just for its status as the conduit to make Newcastle winners again, but because while for José Mourinho’s Chelsea it was the gateway to greater glory, that stairway to heaven no longer exists for even a club backed by the riches of PIF, in the age of PSR. In terms of cold, hard silverware, domestic cups might be as good as it gets for Newcastle for a while.

The level to which Howe and company must still aspire had been clear to them coming into this but was only really suggested in a first half that one might charitably describe as a slow burner.

If it failed to pop as an occasion as one might have expected, that owed as much to the quality of City in possession (though largely sterile, it must be said) as to Newcastle’s respect for the size of their task.

Howe’s uncharacteristic explosion at Jacob Ramsey after the midfielder’s failure to close down allowed Antoine Semenyo a clear run at Sven Botman, which the Dutchman shut down with a no-nonsense sliding challenge, was about as fiery as it got in a chilly first 45 minutes in which muscle strains looked more likely than goals. The public address played A-ha’s 1985 hit The Sun Always Shines On TV during the interval but few watching in the warm at home would have agreed at that point.

Yet City’s awakening from slumber at the beginning of the second period was a brisk reminder that Newcastle have entered a level where it’s eat or be eaten. Howe had discussed on the eve of the game how unpleasantly surprised he had been in discovering the rule change that allowed Semenyo to play here despite having already turned out for Bournemouth in the competition, and he must have gritted his teeth extra hard after City’s new boy emerged from a near-anonymous first half to strike a decisive blow at the start of the second, which might have been two but for some protracted video assistant referee meddling.

Semenyo already looks as if he has been in sky blue for years. What might have been for the hosts had Yoane Wissa summoned the same clarity when found by Jacob Murphy’s pass in the opening five minutes.

Home desperation was more apparent later, as mistimed tackles to unsuccessfully try and disrupt City’s control vastly outnumbered genuine chances to equalise. Rayan Cherki’s late second, all but sealing the tie, was a further cold blast of the prevailing wind.

In the morning, thoughts of March 2025 should be clung to even more tightly than before.