Allan Saint-Maximin was meant to be this good all along. Now he is in command

OK, new attacking plan. Actually it’s the same as the old one. Basically, just give it to Allan.

With 87 minutes gone at St James’ Park and Newcastle already 3-1 up Allan Saint-Maximin did what he seemed to have been doing all night, taking the ball in his own half, shrugging away a doomed Everton lunge, then gliding into space, head up, drawing every other element on the pitch into his energy field, blue shirts scattered, another Newcastle attack called into being around this single point of pure attacking will.

Related: Kieran Trippier’s stunner for Newcastle leaves Lampard’s Everton in trouble

A pass at full gallop found Jacob Murphy in space. His shot clanked the foot of the post. By that stage Saint-Maximin had been carried off the pitch by his momentum, holding his head, waving his arms, utterly lost in the moment.

What a player he is. This was not a performance of ethereal attacking craft, or free floating flair. It was hard, calculated, high‑end aggression, relentlessly and ruthlessly applied. By the end Saint-Maximin had racked up 10 dribbles, 52 touches, three shots at goal and disrupted an entire opposition 10 blue shirts drawn into his orbit, spaces freed up, a tight, suffocating game split open by that constant series of cuts.

This was such a vital fixture for both teams, and indeed both clubs. The Premier League’s one real remaining note of drama is the battle to stay in it, to keep hanging on to that rising balloon. And bottom of the table is a fearful place right now, gripped with rising and falling tides, geysers, spurts of hot air, sudden cold draughts.

The early exchanges were adrenal and concussive. For a while Everton looked the more obviously high-end team. There are so many handsome players in