What A Mess!!

 As predicted, the PIF takeover of Newcastle United is proving to be a disaster...

It may sound alarmist, but Newcastle United’s next three home games, namely: Brentford 20/11, Norwich 30/11 and Burnley 4/12, could go a long way towards framing the medium-term destiny of the club. Premature talk by young hotheads of European glory may be overtaken by sullen greybeards bemoaning a third relegation in less than a decade and a half. With the club sitting one off the bottom of the Premier League, courtesy of a slightly less terrible negative goal difference than Norwich, six points from safety and looking at a Christmas period offering gloomier prospects than new born boys had in King Herod’s time, the mettle of the newly installed head coach and ownership is about to be tested. Thus far, the theocratic psychopaths and their running dog lackeys in the boardroom have made a complete and utter arse of things. Whether it be appointing a manager, where the Unai Emery fiasco will long be used as a stick to beat them with, dispensing with discredited coaching staff or issuing an agreed statement about the idiots in cod Arab fancy dress on match days, there is never an unequivocal straight answer issued first time. However, I will concede that at least they do communicate with the general public, even if the messages are convoluted, muddled and inadequate.

With potentially the most important transfer window in history on the horizon, I have little or no faith that the Saudi Arabian Royal Family, or whoever will write the cheques, is ready to allow Eddie Howe to get on with the vital job of coaching the team, while they have someone of greater competence than Lee Charnley in place to drive the recruitment process that is so obviously needed. Frankly, it’s a fairly safe bet that Newcastle United will be the most hated club in the Championship next season, unless the crippling inaction that has been the hallmark of PIF so far, is conquered. For those of us with long memories, the appointment of Howe reminded me of the pitiful and painful transition from McFaul to Smith back in 88, and we all know how that turned out.  Still, at least if we do go down, we still won’t be playing the Mackems.

In their defence, if the butchers from Riyadh held off from giving the gig to someone (anyone?) until the international break, so only the sensible and articulate Jones copped the flak for the Chelsea defeat and first half shit show at Brighton, even if their penalty was a terrible stain upon the integrity of the VAR system and how it is used, regardless of whether Clark fouled him or not, then fair play to them. They may be learning the art of public relations at last, which is certainly a step up from hacking dissidents to pieces at least.

It was good to see Howe watching our triumphant escape from the foot of the table at Brighton, as well as hearing he felt the squad was collectively underachieving, poorly coached, lacking fitness and tactically shambolic. Then again, if such analysis was a prerequisite for getting the job, there would have been 50,000 other suitable candidates in the ground every home game. It is probably important to note the last time we played Bournemouth, in June 2020, Algarve-Bruce and Howe were in their respective dugouts and Newcastle battered the Cherries out of sight that day. Of most pressing concern, now we’ve appointed someone who I expect to be able to competently coach the majority of our existing players, is the appointment of a Director of Football who is prepared to do what is necessary to recruit appropriately. This will not be someone called Lee Charnley. I hope.

 

As you all know, I am completely against this takeover, as I have serious objections to a bloodthirsty theocracy owning my club. However, I am not against the Ruben Brothers expanding their property portfolio in Newcastle; for a start the city centre is looking decidedly shabby post pandemic and for another thing, any new builds or refurbs will provide thousands of jobs for construction workers initially and leisure sector employees eventually. I am, of course, available for nuanced, philosophical and practical debate regarding the future of cities in the post-Covid, post-industrial era, but that’s probably something best kept for another day.

Can it really only be a month since the patently unprepared PIF were presented with a fait accompli takeover of Newcastle United for the small matter of £305 million? Was it a mere 5 weeks ago that fans dispensed with their consciences to get unironically bladdered on Barrack Road, leaving the Milburn Stand forecourt and environs looking like Glastonbury after the festival? How can any of us forget the touching sight of a completely wasted Sam Fender babbling and drooling on breakfast telly, yet still making more sense than his climate change denying, anti vaxxer, Covid conspiracy espousing uncle, Jamie Tinfoil? Did we really see oafs in tea towel headdresses belting out endless choruses of we’ve got our club back, oblivious to the new reality of NUFC’s situation? Are any of us likely to forget those deluded superfans accepting congratulations on social media from cretinous simpletons with Saudi flag avatars, for being the real movers and shakers behind the scenes who got the deal done?

How well I remember that first game under the new regime, when Steve Algarve-Bruce selected a side with a suicidally high back 4, meaning Harry Kane’s farcical goal will act as the forever epitaph for the ill-remembered administration of our man in the queue outside Gorman’s at half eleven every morning. Already there were those whining, even in advance of kick-off, that PIF had “let the fans down” by not bulleting Algarve-Bruce before a ball was kicked. Was that more idiotic than the swathes of buffoons in faux Arab dress? Or previously intelligent fans becoming brainwashed saps for their new overlords? I’ve no time for mendacious hypocrisy by members of the Fourth Estate or ill-informed followers of other clubs, nor do I appreciate the endless, defensive whataboutery so many of our fans fall back upon. However, we’d all better get used to this.

Consider, please, the probable effects of a rabid national media in full-on self-righteous assault mode, intent on blaming Jimmy from Prudhoe or Stu from Blyth for the human rights abuses of the Saudi regime. You know, I know, everyone knows that if you continue to aggressively prod a bad-tempered dog, it will eventually attack. Newcastle fans, regardless of what they really think, though many of them may not be capable of complex cognitive activity, are fiercely loyal to their club; if someone attacks the Magpies, they’ll defend the team and the institution to the death. Any attacks on the ownership, regardless of source, will be furiously rebuffed; some with articulacy and others with profanity or fists. Those of us denouncing the deal from the inside are probably most at risk, but I’m used to it. This bunker mentality will win the supporters few friends, but it may be inevitable. Then again, when NUFC.com seem insistent on disparaging Graeme Jones at every given opportunity, and true faith has run a hateful, misogynistic series of attacks on Amanda Staveley, who knows what to expect from the Barrack Road Brains Trust. Certainly, it was a surprise to me that the best written and most nuanced response to the whole affair was a press release by the FSA the day after the takeover.

Incidentally, I would point out that attacks upon Staveley because of how she looks are particularly distasteful when one considers her diagnosis, and the eventual prognosis, of Huntington’s Disease. Yet it must be recognised that it isn’t just journalists or other fans having a go (Everton supporters digging at Geordies, minutes after losing 5-2 at home to Watford; Man United followers focusing their ire on Tyneside in the run up to their ritual disembowelling by Liverpool; Boro, I ask you, Boro’s banner in a deserted Riverside on the day Warnock got the shove or Crystal Palace’s righteous words of wisdom in the Holmesdale Road end on the day we got a welcome point after riding our luck), but the big hitters in the boardrooms at other clubs as well.  We’ll have to wait a while until we get the unexpurgated Tales from Hoffman after the latest PL chief exec has cleared his desk, but if the other 18 clubs (City are our pals now, it seems) think that stopping PIF from sponsoring Newcastle, when the House of Saud, or Kate Stewart as they’re more commonly known, managed to get the takeover through, then they’ve a nasty surprise coming. Money talks and there’s nothing that will guarantee servile devotion from the vast majority of the unsophisticated ranks of NUFC’s support more than endless, vulgar and scattergun spending of billions of petrodollars.

And they need to do that very thing the second the final chorus of Auld Lang Syne has been sung, as the opening 10 games have shown, where only 5 points have been collected and only Watford, where the finishing was rank, and Southampton, where the defending stank, should have seen victories. Newcastle United need several new players, because some of the decent ones we’ve got are shot to shit; the last couple of years has seen their confidence and tactical acumen disappear, perhaps forever.

The key indicator of this, once Algarve-Bruce had decided to spend more time with his Just Eat app, was the Chelsea game. After a valiant hour of desperate defending, Newcastle were swamped by the current Champions’ League holders and front runners for the title. It was a hopeless mismatch, with our ill-prepared, inadequate squad steamrolled once the first one had gone in. This is the real legacy of the Ashley’s refusal to adequately finance the running of the club and further condemnation of Algarve-Bruce’s lazy, hands-off approach; inadequate players terrified to make a mistake and the adequate ones, bar a couple of notable exceptions, lacking in commitment, with a cut price coaching set-up devoid of ideas and inspiration.

Nice Guy Eddie is in charge now. I’ll let you know how he’s getting on after the Norwich game as I’m actually going.