NUFC; May 25 - September 1, 2025...
You
know me; I love nothing more than an obscure late 60s / early 70s psychedelic,
prog folk outfit nobody under the age of 70 has heard of; Dr Strangely Strange
or the Incredible String Band, for instance. Recently I outdid myself, coming
across the eclectic collective Principal Edward’s Magic Theatre, who were a
14-piece multidisciplinary ensemble, incorporating acid-drenched wig outs,
dance, lightshows and poetry, formed at Exeter University in 1968. They were
the first act signed to John Peel’s Dandelion label, despite his producer John
Walters describing them as “arty farty nonsense” and business partner Clive
Selwood calling them “the most pretentious act” he’d ever come across. On
buying a copy of their debut album Soundtrack, I can confirm both
descriptions are highly accurate, and I’m elated to have such a recording in my
possession. Arriving on Saturday 30 August, the day when Peel would
have turned 86, it acted as a soundtrack (pun intended) to the last knockings
of the vile spectacle of Newcastle United’s dealings in the final days of the
transfer window, which inspired me to pen this ditty to our (thankfully)
former, wantaway striker -:
Free Alexander Isak
Free,
free, free, free, free Alexander Isak
Free Alexander Isak
36
months in captivity
Wages
too small to meet his greed
His
body unused but his agent still here
Are
you so blind that you cannot see? I said
Free
Alexander Isak, I'm begging you
Free
Alexander Isak
Wants to join up with the LFC
Happy
to shit upon the Toon Army
Are
you so blind that you cannot see?
Are
you so deaf that you cannot hear his plea?
Free
Alexander Isak, I'm begging you
Free
Alexander Isak
Revisionist analysis of the time that followed our Carabao Cup win over Liverpool (Isak scored the winner; remember?) has sought to portray Isak as being ineffective, unfit and unmotivated. I don’t actually accept this analysis. Remember, we were still in with a shout of finishing second until the penultimate game of the season. The 7 games following the Wembley triumph saw us win 5 and draw 1: not the form of an uninterested side, or player, simply phoning it in. His reaction to securing that last CL place was as ecstatic and effusive as everyone else on the pitch and in the stands that day against Everton.
How, and why, his head was turned and on what basis we may never fully understand. If, as he claims, he was given a promise last summer he could either have a new contract that would make him twice as rich as Croesus or be allowed to leave, then I can almost see his point, especially if the verbal agreement was made by someone who is no longer involved with the club. However, the way he went about securing his demands absolutely stunk, as did the response of the club. Now students of Newcastle United’s history will know there were precedents of behaviour akin to Isak’s strop. I’m not just talking about Dyer’s disdainful handling of the captain’s armband at Boro in 2004. I don’t know much about Hughie Gallagher’s move to Chelsea in 1930, but I seriously doubt the fiery little forward left without burning a few bridges. The recently deceased George Eastham, in engineering a move to Arsenal in 1961, changed the transfer system forever. More recently (relatively speaking), Pop Robson calling a press conference in January 1971 in the Swallow Hotel, to explain why he was disillusioned with the club. In response chairman Westwood (is a pirate) fined the player the princely sum of £100 and told him to submit a transfer request or shut his mouth. He did just that and was sold to West Ham within days.
Perhaps, that’s what the club should have done. But behind closed doors and by that I don’t mean the entrance to Ciaran Clark’s abode that was slammed in the face of Jamie Rubens when he begged Isak to stay. I still can’t understand why Isak was allowed to down tools and not face some kind of sanction. Surely, as a contracted player, he remains a club employee and should be expected to behave as such. Whatever the moral and legal minutiae of his conduct, it rapidly became clear there was no going back. I’m glad he’s gone, but I will always remember the goals he scored. It is also a strange irony that his behaviour seemed to inspire Yoane Wissa to act in a similar fashion with Brentford to engineer his move to Tyneside. I’m not happy he did that, but I’m glad we’ve got a proven PL striker, even if we’ve lost any right to the moral high ground in the aftermath of the Isak charade.
That cataclysmic saga that finally came to an end on the evening of Monday 1 September has understandably diverted all attention away from a hugely problematic summer on Tyneside that has, somehow, probably strengthened both the pool of talent available and the bond in the changing room, even allowing for the impotent rage of those who see likes on Instagram and wishes of good luck for Isak from current players as gross treachery. It isn’t really, is it?
So, we have signed 6 new players (Elanga, Ramsdale, Ramsey, Thiaw, Wissa and Woltemade), improving every area of the team, even though the Twitterati have already passed judgement on Elanga as being “worse than Franz Carr,” as well as two for the future, Cordero and Park, and dispensed with the services of 9 others (Dubravka, Kuol, Hayden, Isak, Lewis, Longstaff, Targett, Wilson and Vlachodimos) of varying levels of competence. I’m very sad to see Sean go, but he’s signed for a good club, who I hate (though then again I hate every club to a certain degree, especially Newcastle United at times), while I also recognise the sterling work done for us in the past by Dubravka, Hayden and Wilson, even the latter was an absolute liability when he played last season, combining the match sharpness of Mark McGhee in his final season with the predatory instincts of the aged Ian Rush. I suppose both did score winners in the FA Cup from about 18 inches though. The less said about both Kuol and Lewis the better. I’m glad that the raw talent of Osula wasn’t sold, for the rumoured reason of improving our PSR standing. I like the kid, but I don’t know if he’ll ever be consistently at the standard required, though it’s good he’s got the chance to prove himself. Best of all, we retained the services of Harrison Ashby and tied down John Ruddy for another year.
Seriously
though, the particularly galling thing about the conclusion of our business
dealings is that it was effectively seen us throw away 7 points from our
opening 3 games. With a proper strike force in place, we would have easily
dismissed both Villa, who have suddenly gone from being deadly foes after the
events of Sunday 24 May 2009 to comrades in arms against the Premier League’s
Big 6 cartel, and dirty Leeds. We could also have beaten Liverpool, though I
doubt the fire in the players’ bellies would have been quite so intense, were
it not for the Isak situation and the unfortunate dismissal of Gordon.
The delay in signing players was in stark contrast to the noises coming out of the club at the end of last season. In the immediate aftermath of the limp loss to Everton, which coincided with our fortuitous claiming of the final Champions’ League place and the riches that entails, Howe announced that the club would get any transfer business done early. Great words, but not what happened in reality. Sporting Director, the shadowy Paul Mitchell, quit and his job was allegedly taken over by Eddie’s nephew, Andy Howe. Now just pause for a minute and imagine if it had still been the halcyon days of the Ashley era and a relative of Brooooth had been given a spot on the payroll. True Faith would have spontaneously combusted.
However, despite time wasted on the fruitless pursuit of targets such as Ekitike (how I would have loved a palindromic player at SJP), Trafford, Pedro, Sesko and latterly Strand Larsen, things seem to have worked out for the best, with one big proviso. Both Woltemade and Wissa need to produce the goods pretty sharpish. The run of games before the October international break will see us play 7 times between Saturday 13 September and Sunday 5 October. As we’re currently sitting just above the drop zone, the 4 league games need to see some tangible progress up the table. We need to put down markers in the Champions’ League (oh how I wish I could head to Brussels for the RUSG game) and the Carabao Cup defence begins against Bradford, who have had a decent start to the season.
I should just say I’ve not seen any of our games live. Cricket commitments saw me miss the Villa and Leeds games, while a malfunctioning fire stick sabotaged any attempt to watch the Liverpool game. Remarkably, I could hear the crowd from my back garden. Amazing noise levels. Then again, I find myself more interested in watching Sportscene and the Football League Show as the Premier League is too good. I cherish mistakes and brutish play. Obviously managerial press conferences are a source of comedy gold. My mate Little Richard has developed a pathological fear of Portuguese men, partly because of Mourinho’s antics over the years, but reinforced by the egotistical paranoia of Marco Silva and the bizarre antics of Reuben Amorim, who must be a safeguarding concern these days. I’ll miss him when he’s gone. Unlike Isak.
