CRAIG HOPE: What a scarf-waving, throat-stripping assault on the senses... Newcastle lost, but perhaps the real victory was showing the suits in the stands why they should NEVER give up on St. James' Park

Twenty-four hours after Old Trafford dozed towards its latest nightmare, here was an occasion to liven the soul. It was not the outcome they wanted, but St. James' Park threatened for so long to be the real Theatre of Dreams.

A quote from Sir Bobby Robson served as inspiration on kick-off. 'It's not beyond our wildest dreams, because we did have wild dreams'. The former Newcastle boss said that 20 years ago when, in this competition, his side played against Barcelona in the Nou Camp. His words were recreated on a giant flag in the Gallowgate End, and what followed for the opening hour was a giant of a performance, on the pitch and off it.

It was an evening, despite its ending, that should remind Newcastle's owners why they ought to think twice before trading St. James' for a super stadium. On the back of a week in which a move has been hotly debated on Tyneside - a fan survey commissioned by the club floated the idea for the first time - here was a red-hot night beneath the lights.

Eddie Howe called on supporters to make it a 'magical occasion'. And right from the off it was clear that those in the stands had swapped their pint glasses for wands. This was a scarf-waving, throat-stripping assault on the senses.

While the crowd at Old Trafford had wearily accepted their fate before a ball had been kicked, the Toon Army would be going down kicking and screaming even if events did conspire against them. But, for 59 minutes, everything went their way. Joelinton blasted a picture-book goal and the performance was perfect. Tired? This was all energy, from players and supporters.

There was a moment in the second half when news spread of Dortmund taking the lead and you would have thought they'd just announced free beer in the concourse. There is no noise quite like that escalating glee, building to a crescendo when the rumour becomes reality. It was soon replaced by nervous nudges - PSG had equalised and those free-pouring pumps were on hold.

Then, Milan's goal. 1-1. Still, though, they sang and hollered their team forward. While there was hope, there would be noise. It was knife-edge stuff, even if Newcastle were no longer at their sharpest after that brilliant, blistering start.

PSG then took the lead, or so we thought. Another roar from the Gallowgate Corner told us that the goal had been disallowed even before those of us in the press box were aware. The game swung from end to end and so did the emotions of 52,000 inside this Cathedral on the Hill. Prayers were answered and prayers were ignored.

Bruno Guimaraes thought he had sent Newcastle to the brink of the last 16 but his strike was pushed onto the bar. Rafael Leao thought he had sent Milan to the brink of the last 16 but his strike hit the post. To the backdrop of it all, raw, guttural noise. St. James' was at its very best. Why would anyone want to call time on a venue capable of creating such intensity and jeopardy?

This place, for supporters, is a real-life family album, and to close the book on that before the insert of a shiny trophy would be a crying shame. It will not be the Champions League this season, and not even the Europa League.

But perhaps the real victory was showing the suits in the stands why they should never give up on St. James' Park.