Who's That Team We All Abhor?

NUFC over the last while....

I didn’t write this piece immediately after the Brentford game. I couldn’t, because I was too angry about another pathetic, clueless performance on the road to express anything other than inarticulate rage. A week later I’m still furious and we remain two points above the drop zone, but I think I can provide a more measured perspective on events between the last two international breaks than I would have done on Sunday 9^th November. This is the third pause we’ve had so far this season, and each one has been heralded by the outpouring of vastly differing emotions. The break in September came as a relief as the Isak transfer debacle was finally concluded, after we’d unnecessarily thrown away the chance of 9 possible points in the opening games in an atmosphere of utter chaos. The October break was frustrating as we were finally looking like an outfit who had sussed a new style of play, confidently dispatching an admittedly woeful Forest side before everything ground to a competitive halt. The arrival of this November ceasefire has been greeted with unbridled relief as we’ve been so dismal on the road, it beggars belief.

Let me say this now. Eddie Howe is still the right man for the job of Newcastle United manager. There are if, buts and all manner of caveats attached to that statement, not least because our next three league games are the daunting prospect of Man City (H), Everton (A) and Spurs (H), which I’ll come on to later. One of the most blatantly obvious reasons for retaining his services is that, as far I can see, there are no viable, realistic candidates to replace him. Iraola has his advocates, but he hardly did his cause much good with that mauling at Villa Park the other week. Roberto Mancini has been mentioned, but he’s another yesterday man from my perspective. In all honesty, I am still grateful for everything Howe has done for the club since he arrived and you don’t need me to tell you that avoiding the drop in his first season, two CL qualifications and the small matter of a Sunday in Wembley back in March put him head and shoulders above every other manager we’ve had in my lifetime, Keegan and Robson included. But he needs to do better, as do the players, and that crucial improvement needs to happen fast. The fixture list isn’t promising, but everyone plays each other twice a season and we just have to get on with it.

Ideally, Howe does his best work where he has previously proved himself to be an outstanding coach. On the training ground. Developing tactics and drilling them into the players. Anthony Gordon suspended for the Carabao Cup final? No problem. Here’s Plan B; we’ll win the game in midfield rather than down the flanks. Guess what? We did. Recently there hasn’t been a Plan A, other than kick offs being deliberately launched into touch by the opposition corner flag, like a nostalgic reboot of John Beck’s tactics at Cambridge United, circa 1991. What we need, and this is where the injuries to Pope, Gordon, Livramento and Hall should benefit us during this international break, is some solid hard work on defending set pieces and a clear idea what to do when we go forward. Yes, there are players away on international duty and well done to Thiaw, the one uniformly bright spot in a terrible league season so far, for his call up by Germany, but Howe and Jones can, should and hopefully will do what is necessary to make us look competent and competitive again, before the season really goes over the cliff edge.

So, how did we get to this bizarre situation where we sit 14^th in the Premier League and 6^th in a 36-team Champions League, with an eminently winnable League Cup quarter final tie at home? To sum up, we’ve been shit away and done the necessary at home, without ever really hitting top gear. Before the Brighton game that kicked off this recent set of fixtures, we appointed someone called Ross Wilson as Sporting Director, whatever that means. There are so many walk-on, walk-off appointments to a series of meaningless job titles in the club that I lose track and pine for the days when Russell Cushing and Tony Toward just used to divvy the admin work up between them. To prove the point Peter Silverstone, the club’s Chief Commercial Officer has just slung his hook, after tying up a major Saudi sponsorship deal with Visa. I’m a Barclays customer and don’t particularly feel comfortable that they’re throwing money at NUFC and not giving me better interest on my ISAs, but there you go. Rather more seriously, the promise of freebie corporates to high-end clients in Saudi Arabia rather undercuts the valiant work NUST (and fair play to them for getting David Stonehouse on the board) are attempting regarding ticketing transparency. Then again the anodyne response from Hoppy, the Man in the Suit, to their requests for open dialogue probably tells you all you need to know about the PIF and their underlings’ attitude to Mags who stump up their hard-earned cash, not just to buy tickets, but to throw cash away on the Membership tombola farce, ostensibly to give them a chance to buy tickets. It’s all about the money, honey. There’s a new training ground and revamped SJP to fund you know. Possibly. Trust the process, as the Dubai chronophiles say.

As for Brighton, the best you can say is that The Amex is becoming the new Dell and Danny Welbeck a reincarnation of Le Tissier, without the swivel-eyed chemtrails conspiracy lunacy. The famed midfield shattered from long haul international fortnight flights, all 4 wingers woefully out of form, second choice ageing, clumsy full backs and a hitherto impressive centre back pairing unaccountably baffled by straight balls into the box. We all wanted to call it a blip, rather than the new normal. Ah, but then came Benfica. What a second half that was, eh?  Not only that, but Mourinho showed a great deal of class in his remarks about the club. I’ve always had a soft spot for the curmudgeonly contrarian, not that I’d ever want him in the home dug out.

Admittedly, their right winger caused us a few problems early on and we might have taken the lead slightly against the run of play, but once Gordon got us ahead, it was a relatively straightforward evening. Indeed, it was great to see 75% of our wingers putting in quality shifts. Sadly, I didn’t get a ticket, but I met with John, over from Ireland, and Ben who had in The Town Mouse before kick-off and when they walked to the ground, I made my way to The Bodega, listening to the stirring sound of the crowd, feeling the anticipation in the air and cursing the ballot system. It’s 16 years since I threw in my season tickets, but there are times when you wish you could have been a part of it, and this was one of them. Mind, I put in a disciplined performance, restricting myself to a pint per half. Indeed, the only blight on the night was the last 38 not showing up and having to get an Uber home.

On the day of the Fulham game, I got to see Newcastle win (Independent), draw (University) and lose (East End), but I didn’t see United. Instead, I got back from some Alliance games just in time to watch the last bit of the day’s unfolding action on Sky Sports. I punched the air when Bruno got the winner, then within the hour saw detailed highlights on line. Despite the narrowness of the scoreline and lateness of the goal, this was a well-deserved win, spoiled only by poor finishing. Frankly, we should have been 3-0 up at the break, but no matter, we took the points, had won two in a row and moved on to the Spurs League Cup game in a better frame of mind. That said, I was a trifle concerned that under Frank, Tottenham wouldn’t be the soft-centred cowards they’ve often been in these parts. I needn’t have worried as they barely laid a glove on us. Tonali won the game in midfield singlehandedly and a pair of undefended headers from unchallenged crosses saw us safely through to the last 8, where we’ve been paired with Fulham at home. At this stage of the competition, you couldn’t ask for much more than that.

And then we went to West Ham. Took the lead in 4 minutes and completely disintegrated. Some social media hot heads were calling this the worst game in Howe’s reign. Obviously they didn’t see the FA Cup games against Cambridge or Sheffield Wednesday. I suppose what they really meant was that it was the worst game they’d seen since we last lost, because according to Twitter, every game we lose, regardless of circumstances, is the worst game under Eddie Howe. That, of course, is nonsense, though this was a dreadful performance. In the search for scapegoats, Pope was the one in the cyber stocks for this result, though how on earth you contend with ill-fortune like Botman’s own goal is beyond me. Although I have to say I am at a loss to explain why we’re so bad away from home and what we can do about it. Perhaps we could bring Tommy Gibb out of retirement as he always preferred to play away rather be tormented at SJP by our own “supporters.” I suppose this proves that supporting the team has always involved the right to moan, abuse and slag off anyone in black and white, regardless of their merit.

I’m a good dad me you know. John managed to get me a Bilbao ticket on the Monday before and I gave it to Ben. Of course I paid. Having taken Ben to Bilbao and enjoyed a tour of the original San Mames, I thought this was the correct thing to do. After all, I was at the 1994 UEFA Cup game when the bonds of friendship were forged between the two clubs. From mid-afternoon, even from in the house, I could feel the atmosphere build. Fireworks helped I suppose. Photos and videos on social media made me nostalgic and almost tearful. I watched the game with Big Gary and a squad of his pals in The Sun. Was Dan Burn’s banana header even better than his Cup final goal. I think it was, but obviously not so important. Joelinton’s was probably even easier than Woltemade’s against Spurs. Job done. I know Bilbao were weak and understrength, but we did a very professional job, proving conclusively, whatever Denver and his Fifth Columnist pals may contend, that corporate ownership of football clubs rather than the tired, outmoded socio formula in the way forward. Money makes meritocrats.

Money also makes flags, and I was sickened to see the tiny, unrepresentative NUFC Against Sportswashing sect having a go at Wor Flags for not designing anti Saudi banners. Aside from the fact NUFC Against Sportswashing are Islamophobic in their abuse towards PIF and anti-Semitic in their criticism of the Rubens, why don’t they put their money where their mouth is and pay for a banner that displays their message? The real reason is that they’d have to find someone to hold it aloft inside SJP and since none of them attend games, the idea falls at the first hurdle.

Finally, we come back to Brentford and our second successive stuffing there. Once again, Newcastle United are in the business of ruining weekends, as we’ve been doing since 1892. I must admit I’d expected Lyle Lovatt to be a joke of a boss when he got the gig, but he’s proved me wrong. They’re a big, cumbersome, troubling team and they cuffed us aside after the break. Three days on from the glory of Bilbao, Dan Burn was a calamity until he was put out of his misery. I don’t think the one he conceded was a penalty, but I did think the one that was overturned should have been given. Pope was flapping at crosses like a punch drunk, blindfolded Brian London tribute act in a boxing booth at The Hoppings. Ramsdale is a more than adequate deputy, but Pope, these last 2 games aside, has been good this season. I’m glad I don’t have to make a decision as to who starts the next game.

This brings us up to date. Manchester City at home next and still some fans seem more concerned with the order of pre-match songs at SJP than events on the pitch. Obviously, if we get that right, and everything will fall into place. Right?