Stick Don't Twist

 2017/2018: 44 points; 10^th place

2018/2019: 45 points; 13^th place

2019/2020: 44 points; 13^th place

2020/2021: 45 points; 12^th place

 

What should it be then; #BruceOut or #StickWithSteve? With an average points’ haul of 44.5 and a median 12^th place finish, the whole skeleton of contention is whether we are looking at stability or stagnation? Should the man who can’t stop running off at the mouth about any perceived criticism on social media, yet remains strangely silent when quizzed about the squalid conditions his tenants are forced to endure in his slum properties in England’s second city, be allowed to continue in post? Like every question raised in relation to Newcastle United, there are no easy answers. All we can rightly infer from the 2 years since Benitez hauled his ample ass to China in search of a mammoth payday is that he is out of a job, Bruce is somehow still in one and that Newcastle United have a vastly improved squad. Also, Yoshinori Muto’s coming home, fresh from leading the line for Eibar to such good effect they secured la cuchara de madera / zurezko koilara with little opposition. And people whinge about Bruce signing Joelinton…

The last Newcastle United blog I penned came in the wake of the catastrophic and seemingly terminal 3-0 humiliation away to Brighton. Back then, it seemed only a matter of time before Fulham, who had just gone to Anfield and won, overtook Newcastle and landed a decisive blow in the relegation dogfight, consigning Bruce’s Front Foot Mags to life in the Championship, with the prospect of annual defeats at the hands of the People’s Club of Wearside. Putting the fate of Donald Stewart’s broken playthings to one side for the moment; it needs to be relentlessly pointed out that NUFC, in finishing above Burnley, Brighton, Southampton, Crystal Palace and Wolves, stayed up by a whopping 17 points and, in pure mathematical terms, the result that kept us up was the draw against Spurs in the very next game after the Brighton debacle. The table never lies and sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.

The Spurs game took place on Easter Sunday, which was the first time we’d seen Laura’s mam since Christmas. As a result, I obviously opted for a mammoth roast lamb Sunday lunch than the football, so I caught up on proceedings after family duties had been fulfilled. The one constant of the Newcastle revival that started that day was the outstanding contribution of Joe Willock and his late goal, scored just as the usual campaign of cynical denigration was gathering momentum on Twitter, is the precise moment safety was assured. However, at the time, I felt that Villa doing something for Newcastle for once, in shaking off their lethargy to cuff Fulham aside, not to mention Southampton’s comeback triumph over Burnley, were both highly important in the greater scheme of things, helping to maintain more of a buffer between us and the drop zone.  Man Utd’s defeat of Brighton made it an almost perfect day, though in retrospect, our poor finishing allowed a disintegrating Tottenham side, spoken of as potential champions back in November, off the hook. Mind it still took a last gasp win by a coasting Wolves outfit at Craven Cottage the following week to keep us out of the bottom 3, even if we had 2 games in hand.

Strange as it may seem, not all Geordie eyes were on events down the Hammersmith Road, as the seemingly dormant NUST came out of hibernation to launch the 1892 Pledge, aimed at eventually buying a share in the club, during the midweek. Now my position remains that Ashley is the modern equivalent of either Louis XVI or Czar Nikolai, while the vile, rapacious shower of despots from Saudi Arabia that seek to replace him, are The Reign of Terror crossed with Stalin’s purges, ready to make people pine for the halcyon days of Joe Kinnear and Derek Llambias. Sometime, eventually, a gang of venture capitalist bounty hunters who don’t defenestrate homosexuals or stone adulterous women to death will buy Newcastle United. I’d love the idea of fans being in on that deal, or indeed any deal, to act for the good of the club, rather than sitting on a sand dune showing off their watches or pretending they’ve got compromising photos of the Premier League in a seedy hotel with enough whores and whiskey to get questions asked in the House. While the 1892 Pledge stinks to high heaven of a TF covert operation, it’s a laudable idea, though somewhat less impressive than the Man Utd lot getting the Liverpool game called off. Indeed, until Cummings sang on the stand like the most vengeful canary that ever drew breath, I had wondered whether the Tories might take the 50 plus 1 German model on board, more in response to the failed ESL proposals than NUST’s suggestion. Now, all bets are off, as Realpolitik and a desperate struggle for power and influence in Parliament that dwarfs even the NUFC Podcast War, comes to the forefront of civic life.

Back in April, Newcastle were on the road to Burnley. We went in a goal down, having played poorly, but being denied a definite penalty when Sean was flattened. Never mind, ASM was there to win us the game with an unbelievable solo slalom that wasn’t bettered until Willock did it at Fulham on the final day. However, the doom mongers were still unimpressed; having been forced to row back on claims we’d not win until Sheff Utd, they then reckoned we’d lose the next 5 and West Brom, who somehow won a game, were now seen as being a threat to our survival of greater magnitude than Fulham, though it should be pointed out that Fulham (1 win and 5 losses in their 6 previous games) were promoted on social media as having more momentum than Newcastle (1 loss and 7 points in 6 games). Honestly, most NUFC fans are only happy when they’re moaning.

Same thing happened after the West Ham game. I didn’t see a second of it as I was at Tynemouth Cricket Club, but I was delighted to learn we’d completed a double over the Premier League’s most improved side, while the usual Twitter squad went on and on about squandering a 2-0 lead. It was a quintessential Bruce performance; rousing attacking intent and meek defensive capitulation, with the happy ending of a get out of jail winner after a prolonged week of games because of Cup ties, which saw all of our rivals, get beat. Nice luck if you can find it eh Steve? Indeed, bringing Sean off for Willock was a good move in that it enabled him to get to TCC by 4.00 to see us beat Felling.

The week after saw the trip to a suddenly less than impregnable Anfield where the VAR nonsense that disallowed Wilson’s goal should not be allowed to gloss over the second half performance that had the deposed Champs out on their feet. Of course, if Wilson had scored then Willock wouldn’t have, so we didn’t have victory denied us, but we did deserve 3 points for our pluck. All in all, 4 games unbeaten and a 9 point cushion over the bottom 3 showed that things were going nicely. However, with a Willockless side against Arsenal, we turned in another sluggish, half-hearted performance and deservedly lost, to the utter delight of the Anti-Bruce mob. The widespread social media blackout by sporting institutions, commentators and journalists was almost uniformly respected, except by NUFC Twitterati who continued to play out a cyber bear baiting contest; a plague on both their houses, whether they be in Dubai or Dudley. Indeed, the only positive football news of that whole weekend was Hebburn 3 Consett 2 in last year’s Vase. I’d wanted Consett to win, for all the ex-Benfield lads in their ranks and for their boss Terry Mitchell, but it wasn’t to be.

Mind if you thought Hebburn’s progress from Northern League obscurity to Wembley winners was a fairy-tale, what about Newcastle at Leicester? This was even better than the semi-mythical destruction of Bournemouth last year. Of course, Bournemouth went down and Leicester won the FA Cup, which is an important difference, but it was good to see Newcastle emulating Sheffield United (Man Utd), West Brom (Chelsea), Fulham (Liverpool), Burnley (Arsenal and Liverpool) and Brighton (Liverpool) in pulling off a storming win away to one of the division’s heavyweights, playing brilliant football from start to finish. Obviously, the Twitter knives still came out after Leicester’s consolations, but what do you expect? It was nice to have such a convincing win and see West Brom and Fulham bite the dust as well. Next year I’d expect Watford, Palace and whoever wins the play-offs to go down. Then again Wolves haven’t exactly covered themselves in glory and if Bielsa leaves Leeds, they’ll be headless chickens.

 

The Man City game was absolutely mental. Despite falling over so often I wondered if he had an inner ear infection, this may have been Joelinton’s coming of age party. What a penalty! But why didn’t he take 2? The whole evening was more of an end of term party than an end of season game. Nice to see Scott Carson back on Tyneside, conceding 3 as ever; even nicer to see Bruce win the Manager of the Month award, with its attendant curse of inevitable defeat. It may have been a bit of a circus, but the last two games against Sheff Utd and Fulham were far more important; we harvested 6 points, moved convincingly up the table, kept clean sheets, played in second gear and held the opposition at arm’s length throughout. Not only that, we displayed a great team spirit, which was something I’d worried about in terms of the crowd for the Blades game.

When it was announced that the 10,000 tickets would be issued by ballot, I sincerely hoped that the moaning, whining complainers from Twitter wouldn’t apply, as I didn’t want us to be shown up by some wankers in Saudi headdresses waving handmade, We love Rafa placards. In the end, it seemed as if any booing came from a tiny minority and was restricted to full time, so the shame of the North East Trophy went to the Mackems who were getting battered all over by Lincoln in the play-offs.

To stick with them for a moment, I obviously didn’t see the second leg, but the memory of Burge handing the Imps their second goal at Sincil Bank will stay with me forever. Now, as they face THEIR 4^TH SEASON IN THE OLD THIRD DIVISION, it is time for them to show some humility. Despite the manner in which many Newcastle fans behave, there is only one club considered the laughing stock of the region. At least they’ll get to defend the Papa John Trophy next season, I guess. On a similar culinary matter, I am a subscriber to the official SAFC emails, as I like something to cheer me up each week. Sadly, this week’s offering had me almost in tears. No showreel for potential suitors of Remi Matthews or solemn farewell to Grant Leadbitter, just an advert to dine at the newly refurbished Riverview Brasserie at SoS. Alas, this is no emporium for haute cuisine, offering delights such as pommes frites au fromage avec boissons gazeuses bleues but the equivalent of a British Homes Stores style lunch counter, offering the kind of banal, retro home cooking that your average Hendon Heston Blumenthal or Pennywell Marco Pierre White will think of as being geet posh. It isn’t; it’s Brexit on toast for those who ate special school dinners with their hands. Of course, decent food won’t keep your team up; witness Kilmarnock, home of the celebrated Killie Pie, dropping to the Scottish Championship.

 

So, to Fulham and another easy win. Looking at the 7 loan players playing at quarter pace for the home side, thoughts we could finish below them were deemed ever more risible as the game went on. A sense of pride at what we’d achieved swept over me; Villa did well and so did Leicester, but Everton, Spurs, Wolves and Brighton had shamefully underachieved, though we didn’t. We did alright you know. If you delete the Brentford League Cup game, the two Brighton debacles and Sheffield United away, we matched our reasonable ambitions. Full time and it was time to say goodbye and great thanks to Joe Willock. Less applause for the likes of Andy Carroll, Atsu, Saivet and possibly Murphy, who all depart, relatively unmourned. Biggest disappointment of the season has been Lewis, but he’s of limited resale value. We’d be better flogging Almiron who was toss 95% of the time and if anyone can explain what Gayle did to deserve another 3 years, then please tell me….

And so we move on to 2021/2022 with renewed optimism, secure in the knowledge that we have further bouts of internecine podcast warfare, on-line griping, the treading of the stagnant, pelagic football zone and reviews of gaudy watches by vulgar ex-pats to look forward to. Stick with Steve, as it’s the safe option. I’m hoping we can make it into the Top 10.