Tuesday 10 October 2023

Geordie Internationalists

Newcastle United's last few weeks summarised.....





Things seem to be happening way too fast to properly reflect on their impact and importance, regarding Newcastle United these days. Perhaps that’s why, for probably the first time ever, that an international break is seen by the club as a whole, both fanbase and especially players, as a good thing, not because we want to see some of our players strut their stuff on a world stage, though it does baffle me how Sean hasn’t had a call up from Southgate, but to provide an opportunity to rest weary bones and recuperate from the injuries and niggles that have limited Eddy’s options with the squad of late. Certainly, the narrative of NUFC as indefatigable battlers until the final whistle was challenged by West Ham’s (admittedly deserved) late equaliser against a Newcastle side that were out on their feet in the final game before the temporary cessation of hostilities.

Anyway, our stories began at the onset of the last international break in early September. On the back of three successive league defeats, including the wasteful defeat at home to Liverpool and the shameful shellacking on the South Coast at Brighton, there was a scarcely believable media whispering campaign, no doubt led by Craig Hope, suggesting that Howe’s job was under scrutiny. Preposterous I know, but in an era when papers don’t sell, it’s only wilful and wanton nonsense like this that gets the mouse clicks that drive the advertising income that keeps clowns like Hope in a job.

Of far more interest and importance to true followers of Newcastle United, were the two Saudi Arabia friendlies held at SJP, which attracted crowds of about 5k for their pair of defeats to Costa Rica and South Korea, despite tickets only costing a fiver. I’ll get you the data on numbers of “away” fans travelling when I have it. Personally, I was unable to be at either game as my beloved Shelley was taken seriously ill on the Sunday night / Monday morning of the international break, necessitating a stay at the Freeman Cardiology Unit. She’s on the mend now, but it wasn’t a nice experience for anyone involved. Neither was the experience of heading to the turnstiles for ordinary Newcastle fans attending the first Saudi friendly against Costa Rica, which they lost 3-1, on Friday 8th September, mainly on account of the conduct of Denver Humbert and his Hypocrite Heptarchy. These Islamophobic Idiots were farcically demonstrating against Newcastle being owned by Saudi Arabia. Now, Denver is entitled to his mad, bigoted and discredited opinions, though the language used by @NoSaudiToon veers incredibly close to hate speech, but the stakes have been raised against the crazed vanguardist now that it is public knowledge, he was a handsomely remunerated employee of the House of Saud between 2002 and 2004. His response to on-line questioning about his background and motives, is to block anyone who brings the point up. Not only that, but his LinkedIn CV has also been doctored of late. As I say, the Monksfeld Meathead was discredited already, but things could be about to get a whole lot worse for him, especially if certain people go public with all the gen they have on him.

Equally unhinged, though in a different way, is narcissistic Mackem, on-line self-publicist Michael “Captain Fishpaste” Graham who, in the build up to the Brentford game, sought to suggest that the reason Paolo Di Canio got his P45 on Wearside wasn’t the team’s terrible performances on the pitch, but that the Brexit and Loyalism loving lads from Joker Avenue, actually drove the fascist fuckwit out of the place. Serious, he actually said that. As we all know, such a statement is complete bollocks, though to their credit, plenty of their own fans told him so, in no uncertain terms. Graham, Hope and Humbert were all crying bitter tears of recrimination when Newcastle eased past Brentford, even if was only 1-0. The headline of “Newcastle ease pressure on under fire Howe” was a monument to the kind of lies more associated with the Third Reich than the Fourth Estate. As regards the game, despite Brentford starting well, they simply ran out of steam as Newcastle grew stronger the longer things went on. Flekken in the Brentford goal is the football equivalent of a social hand grenade, liable to explode at any second. He conceded the penalty, should have given away another and was given the benefit of the doubt by a ludicrous call to disallow another Wilson tap-in. Mind if Flekken is bad, Thomas Frank is ten times worse. I used to think he was an endearing eccentric, but the longer Brentford stay up, the more he turns into a Klopp whingealike, displaying paranoid tendencies and the inability to either tell the truth or let a grudge go. Sounds like Denver, huh? Well, if the cap fits…

And so, to The Champions’ League and Milan away. From a personal perspective, I don’t have that great an interest in European football, as I don’t feel any particular emotional attachment or indeed antipathy towards any particular competition or set of opponents. My take on Newcastle’s involvement is this: while it would be quite nice to do well, then any progress may come at the cost of progress in our domestic league. That said, finishing top 2 in the group and progressing to the second stage would be an enormous source of revenue for the club. Then again, if we can’t get top 2, we’d be better off finishing last, as becoming clogged up in the labyrinthine machinations of the Europa League is the last thing we need right now. However we do, the overarching principle is that we need to make money, a lot of money, enough to enable us to obviate FFP rules when signing stellar players and thus ensuring we can qualify for this big club beano in its extended form, consistently in the future. Cynical? I’m afraid so, but the Corinthian spirit of European club competition has been dead these past 30 years, despite our heroic lifting of the Inter Toto Cup in 2006/2007.

The trip to Milan saw thousands there, all getting drunk and making balloons of themselves. Those behavioural scientists and Amnesty International supporters on Wearside, who were last in European competition half a century ago, were keen to point out that any bad behaviour should not be tolerated. True enough, but their sniggers and censorious comments of “serves him right” when one bloke got stabbed, showed them to be as vacuous as they are hypocritical. They are already rubbing their hands with glee at the thought of NUFC fans coming a cropper in poorly lit Parisian back lanes and unfriendly banlieues.  This from the same set of fans whose ethical take on Sheffield Wednesday fans waving photo images of the late Bradley Lowery, is to demand the incarceration of the perpetrators.

While I found the actions of those idiotic Wednesday fans to be abhorrent, it does not sit comfortably with me that they have been taken to court and are possibly facing jail time. Why do I think like this? Am I a contrarian? Well yes, I am, but my ethical standards may be slightly different than yours. We might have grown up in different circumstances and have different life experiences which have shaped our ethical perceptions. Of course, ethics does not provide all the answers. It offers tools for thinking about moral issues, though we need to note that ethics, or morals if you prefer a more censorious term, and law are not the same. Law is statutory. It’s the minimal standard for social justice, human rights, peace and stability. It must be followed, or there will be some sanctions. Often, it lags behind ethical standards, and it may be influenced by those. Ethics, on the other hand, is much more than a code for living. It stands for what is permissible, required, encouraged or admirable. It should be followed because that’s the right thing to do. Eventually, it can inform legal standards, often because of the influence of a third element: public opinion or public perception and that is why two blokes from Sheffield waving mobile phones provokes outrage and the stabbing of a 58-year-old man creates laughter, especially if you inhabit the demi-monde of an on-line Sunderland message board.

As regards, Milan versus Newcastle United, I didn’t get to see the first half as I was stuck at work. Just as well probably, as it was apparently dire, though we looked fairly compact and tight in the second period. Clearly, a decent point wasn’t enough for some cyber hot heads, as media and on-line zealots insisted, we’d been thrashed out of sight; to me, this is a strange way to interpret a 0-0 draw.  Obviously, the fact we could have sneaked it right at the end, if Sean’s effort hadn’t been so close to the keeper, wasn’t seen as relevant. Thankfully though, he got the winner at Bramall Lane in the very next game.

Without sounding wise after the event, I didn’t entertain any thoughts of defeat before this one. From full time at the San Siro, I was beatifically calm and certain we’d cruise past the Blades. However, I’m not going to sit here and claim I’d foreseen an 8-0 win with an octet of different scorers. Eight people on the scoresheet; that’s more than Denver had protesting against his former employers the House of Saud a couple of weeks before. Incredible, and good to keep a second consecutive clean sheet as well.

From there, we moved rapidly on to the League Cup and the bummest of bum draws, Man City at home. The team Eddy put out showed he thought we’d probably be going out at the first hurdle and, to be fair, the first half was almost entirely one way traffic towards our net. However, Murphy’s chance after 40 minutes was a sea change in the context of the game, as it allowed us to believe, and a couple of significant changes at the break, saw us take control. Bruno took the game by the throat and Isak scored one of those magnificent one-touch team goals we’re getting used to, and that belief become an unshakeable certainty. What a debut by Livramento though. The lad looks to be a jewel and he was a decent part of the reason we got through on merit, against a City side who simply ran out of ideas, though the reward of an away draw against Manchester United wasn’t what we’d hoped for. Thanks go to Neil Lennon and Don Goodman, or Don Lennon as the Sky presenter referred to him (imagine…), for that one.  

Another date with a team from the far side of the Pennines saw Burnley arrive on the last day of September for one of those weird 3pm Saturday games. It’s a long while since a home game was seen with such uninterest by even those in attendance, with it simply being a case of get in and get it done, and that is exactly what happened. While I was enjoy West allotment 4 West Auckland 0, a stunner from Miggy set us on our way and a calm, expertly taken Isak penalty sealed the deal, leaving the only unanswered question as to why Kompany always wears that ridiculous baseball cap. Has he a Mental Mickey complex about male pattern baldness? I think we should be told, don’t you?

From the banal to the beautiful and the Paris St Germain game. I’d been offered a ticket for this one, but turned it down, as I simply can’t justify spending £60 on a football match. Instead, Ben and his mate Elliott got to go. Heading away from town to Shelley’s a couple of hours before kick-off, I was baffled by the huge queues of traffic going into the city centre. The ground holds 52k; that was the attendance for the Burnley game and that would be the attendance for PSG, so how come there were so many more cars on the road? I soon forgot about that, when settled on the sofa and gently dabbing at the corners of my eyes in the moments before kick-off, I was reduced to blubbering by the incredible work Wor Flags had done. I don’t buy into the staged, compulsory adulation they seem to insist on, when I’m in the ground, but looking from an outside point of view, it had me almost wishing I was there. This wish became a more fervent desire as the game unfolded. I was too young for 1969, but I recollect that amazing night against Barcelona in September 1997, where I stood, amazed at events, in the Gallowgate. This waseven better, though PSG were agents of their own downfall, courtesy of a lazy, arrogant display that they couldn’t snap out of once we’d tore them a new one. Mbappe, in particular, was a disgrace. Miggy’s finish. Bruno’s cross. Sean’s run. Schar sat down on his arse. Four incredible images that will last forever. Tonight, more than ever, it felt perfect to be a Newcastle fan. Meanwhile, to the interest of absolutely nobody, Denver whinged on-line that Eddy Howe had expressed an opinion about Sycamore Gap but failed to respond to a letter he’d sent him. Hopefully someone had taken a chainsaw to that epistle and is coming for him soon.

Then we had West Ham. Bruno should have been sent off. Tonali, who is apparently worse than Glyn Hodges according to the X Men, wasn’t fouled in the lead up to the equaliser. Someone should have tracked Kudus. However, just look at our second goal. Bruno to Trippier to Isak; some of the sexiest one touch football you’ll ever see. Let’s snooze through the break with memories of this unbeaten patch and wake refreshed in time for Palace, Dortmund (twice), Wolves, Man Utd, Arsenal and Bournemouth in the next tranche of games.

Oh, and best of luck to Saudi Arabia, who are at their other home, the John Hird Stadium in Riyadh, to Niger and Mali over the next week.




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