In advance of the Man Utd game, everything seems rather rosy in the NUFC garden, other than certain elements of the support of course. Here's a look back at the season so far -:
So
far this season, I’ve not publicly spoken to the subject of Newcastle United,
until now. Of course, there have been clear opportunities to do so, such as
during the oddly timed international break at the back end of September or,
more properly, throughout the sickening, obsequious self-inflicted period of
ostentatious mourning following the death of Elizabeth Windsor. Don’t get me
started on that craven example of administrative cowardice, when the whole game
came to a grinding halt because of fears of a prospective media backlash, in
response to the presumed conduct of one set of fans. You know, I know, everyone
knows that it was fear of “football’s shame” style headlines as a result of
what Celtic fans might have said or done, that caused the authorities to call
all competition to a halt. Not that this had any kind of a tempering effect on
the mischievous chanting of the Green Brigade at the St Mirren game when
football finally restarted. As can be seen from not just the faint hearted
forelock-tugging of the FA and SFA, but from so many aspects of public life,
free speech is no longer a legal or constitutional right in Britain, as the law
is interpreted by the forces of state repression; any deviation from the
authoritarian populist line, whether it be poppy fascism or a potential
disinclination to show servile deference to the established order, results in
hysterical condemnation and probable legal consequences, on the grounds of a
lack of respect for those who have spent the entire modern era treating us with
contempt. It makes me puke I can tell you.
Anyway, conditions determine consciousness and recent events have compelled me to analyse the unfolding of the current campaign. This isn’t necessarily as a result of the first anniversary of the Saudi Arabian state takeover of a hitherto largely insignificant and deeply unsuccessful regional football club, nor is it on account of the last couple of superb results and, to an extent, performances. No, it is the further expansion of Algarve Broooooth’s savings account, following his jettisoning from The Hawthorns, having transformed the Baggies from promotion certainties to relegation fodder in just under 9 months, which is great work even for him. Not only will he be able to watch the football World Cup from the comfort of his sofa, John Smith’s and Melton Mowbray comfort foods at his elbow, he could jet off down under for the T20 World Cup, bringing back glorious memories of previous touring sides from the past that included such athletes as later period Botham and the Rubenesque off spinner Eddie Hemmings.
Revenons a nos moutons!! Undoubtedly, things are looking up for the fella who got Bournemouth relegated, though there’s a couple of testing away games to come, not to mention home contests with the ever detestable Scouse Mackems and Aston Vile to think about, so it may be politic to survey just how much distance we’ve travelled since things kicked off against Forest at the start of August, bearing in mind that of the 10 league and cup games Newcastle United have played so far, 4 have been shown live on television, though I only managed to catch 2 of those; home to City and away to Wolves. During the Forest game, I was playing cricket and only learned of Newcastle’s comprehensive win once we’d exchanged handshakes with the victors (no further comment needed). Catching the highlights later that night after Sea Power live at Cullercoats Crescent Club, it became clear why there were so many jolly, lubricated middle aged men in replica shirts stumbling around. Newcastle had cruised to victory, with a pair of stunning goals from Wilson and Schar. It’s always nice to start the season with an emphatic win.
I still haven’t seen a second of highlights from the 0-0 away to Brighton, on account of the fact Shelley and I were sunning ourselves on the terraces of Somerset Park, watching Ayr United draw 2-2 with Hamilton Accies that day. By all accounts, Pope was the main reason we escaped with a draw, proving the sense in buying an international class keeper (except when he’s playing international football that is). I mean, Dubravka was an excellent keeper, who is the best we’ve had since Shay Given, but a couple of injuries have seen him lose his sharpness and so it seemed sensible to trade up when the opportunity arose. I’m glad we sold Woodman, who never convinced, and I’m sure Darlow will be the next one to leave, unless Bedlington Terriers or someone come in for Gillespie.
I watched the City match on telly and, well, what came you say? It was a blinding game of football, with both sides producing cracking football from the off. At 3-1, I still didn’t believe we’d hold out, but I was so proud of our lot for having the best team in the world rocking back on their heels and then holding on for a point when the roared back at us. It was the kind of performance we used to see back in the day under Keegan and Sir Bobby. The fact Howe has managed to compile a team of signings augmented with previously underachieving and dispirited players who’d been ruined by Algarve Brooooth, pays enormous tribute to our boss and his squad of coaches. Just look at what Joelinton has become; he is the best example of what proper motivation and astute tactics can bring you.
The Carabao Cup isn’t the biggest draw in the world, so I had no hesitation in focussing my attention on Percy Main against Newbiggin on the same night. What a good choice that was, as the Main scored twice in the last 8 minutes to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. Walking back to Shelley’s at full time, I followed the Newcastle game on my phone, seeing the predictable hysteria on social media at going a goal down that means I often factor out NUFC Twitter for the sake of my mental health. In the end, it all came good and a home draw against Palace isn’t a bad draw (well, not compared to the home draw with Palace that is coming up in a bit).
The Wolves game was the other fixture I’ve managed to see in full. Taking advantage of both the August Bank Holiday weekend and the newly reopened Lochside, Shelley went out for a few beers and to catch the game. Now I’ll admit that a busy pub and no commentary makes it tough to process events on the pitch, but I thought we did alright. Alright there were the usual grumbles about our lack of a cutting edge with Wood up top in place of the injured Wilson and Bruno also missing out, but the place was utter bedlam when ASM lashed home the equaliser. If it wasn’t for Almiron’s strike against Fulham, I’d suggest we saw Goal of the Season that day. In the end, several pints and a solid point was a good return for an afternoon out. It would have been even better if Anderson’s late effort had gone in instead of hitting the bar, but let’s not be greedy.
It's interesting to note that if Liverpool hadn’t grabbed their scruffy late winner, they’d be (at the time of writing) in 16th place. However, and I say this through gritted teeth, we brought defeat on ourselves with some terrible timewasting, though it still feels appalling to take nothing from the game where Isak’s brilliant debut strike put us completely in control. We all know about the tight margins of VAR calls and, having benefitted from one against Wolves for a foul on Fraser, it went against us in this game with a margin so tight it is impossible to call it factual. Of course, if you thought that was bad, the goal we had disallowed against Palace on the Saturday following was one of the worst calls of the entire season. However, we can’t allow our front players to escape criticism that day; their succession of missed chances resulted in 2 points thrown away in a game we should have won at a canter. Whoever was to blame, the net result was a place in the bottom half of the table, which certainly didn’t reflect the quality of our play so far in the season. Unfortunately, it can be quite an ugly game at times.
And, suddenly, everything stopped for the most specious of reasons. A 96 year old woman died of natural causes and football sought to disport itself over her corpse and coffin in the most ostentatious of fashions, resulting in the West Ham game being postponed and forcing me to seek solace in Percy Park against Penrith. I don’t like rugby union, but I like royalty even less and so it was any port on a day too stormy for cricket. Incidentally, back in 1952 when George V died on February 6th, a full programme of games was played on February 9th; we drew 1-1 at Craven Cottage that day. So much for the meritocracy, eh? The British Royal Family: ruining sporting weekends since the Parisian hit in September 1997.
Anyway, once the whole circus restarted, Newcastle were blessed with a trio of seemingly easy games, involving the visits of Bournemouth and Brentford, as well as a trip to Fulham, that would no doubt have had members of the Bender Squad, Gremlins and NME feeling their pulses racing at the thought. Unfortunately, all the first game produced was the first murmurings of discontent of 2022/2023. Now, nobody can pretend that it was either a good result or an impressive performance against Bournemouth. Truly, the best part of the game was Isak’s magnificently placed penalty, but the injury list that saw ASM, Bruno and Wilson in the treatment room was explanation enough for the less than perfect result. However, such rational thinking was not enough to subdue the bellyaching of immature hotheads who slunk away from the ground screaming about the imminent relegation battle that the coming months would bring us. You know, at times, I think football banning orders should be handed out for being a miserable sod or for rank stupidity. At least there was an international break to cool some fevered brows following this one.
The day of the Fulham game, we were at Percy Main where our game kicked off at 2.30, so by the time our lot were having their half time oranges, Newcastle had the 3 points safely tucked away, courtesy of a very nasty foul and some very nice finishing. I was delighted to see Sean notch one today, as he’s been really upping his game this season. Almost enough to keep the whingers and moaners quiet, but not quite. Same goes for Almiron; the lad has done my head in since he arrived, but he’s finally showing the quality he really has. Not a second too soon either.
Brentford saw us at Percy Main again and a brief flurry of worry surged through the crowd when they “scored,” but a correct offside flag tempered our ardour, and this became as much of a procession as the 1993 clash that ended with the same score but shouldn’t have, on account of the scandalous decision to disallow Robert Lee’s famous 60 yard finish. However good Newcastle were that day, the first XI of 30 years later is growing up to be a far greater beast, such has the game moved on in the intervening decades. Now, we do have to accept Brentford gave us 3 goals (poor Ethan Pinnock was probably on suicide watch for the whole weekend), but a Bruno inspired NUFC did exactly what I’d hoped we would; eviscerated an honest, open attacking side that lack the flashes of genius that pepper our side.
One year on from the takeover, whose morality I still question, Newcastle are a team on the up. We have better management, better players, better motivated players and a fanbase prepared to shut its eyes. It seems to me the only alternative on offer is Denver, the Humbert Humbert of Vitoria-Gasteiz and his half a dozen frothing at the mouth socially inadequates Shachtmanites, reciting What We Stand For outside The Strawberry, so I’ll stick with Purvis Park and a semi-detached critical love of the club. It’s Man United in a non-televised game on Sunday. Let’s travel hopefully eh?
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