Never Ending Circle

As I've mentioned before, I collect stuff. This is usually something that acts as a memory jogger from events that I've attended, mainly because I've got such a phenomenally poor memory for dates. For example, I've no idea of the date that I made the migration from the hallowed land of the North-East and tipped up in the North-West... I know it was a long time ago, and Newcastle United haven't won anything since I arrived in Manchester, put that doesn't really narrow things down does it? However, the memory jogger does help, for example I know that I saw Elvis Costello and the Attractions in 1978 - 'cos I've got the ticket stub still to prove it as well as recalling how brilliant Lipstick Vogue was.

Equally, as you'd expect I've got a load of Newcastle United memorabilia, from dog-eared, bovril-stained programmes to crumpled, torn and crushed away tickets (except the plastic Man City ones, obviously). At one stage these used to adorn my book-cases, but as real life and pragmatism have got in the way, I now have a large box under my desk filled with all sorts of interesting ephemera (or junk, depending on your perspective). One of the things that has happened is that friends and fellow Toon-suffers now see me as the perfect vehicle to offload the junk that has been cluttering up the spare bedroom/garage/loft-space. All of which I accept gleefully, like a small child on Christmas morning looking for something more than just another satsuma.

A couple of weeks ago I was given a gem, an issue of the magazine, The Mag from 1988. It was the third issue of this magazine, and a relic of pre-t'interweb times, entirely in black and white, full of spelling and typographical errors, with hand drawn cartoons and a letters page that consisted of a single piece of correspondence.

The other thing that really stuck me about this issue was that it could have been written yesterday, rather than 21 years ago... To quote from the editorial:-

"...any directors who hold out until the bitter end will remain what they are now, the most loathed men on Tyneside"

In 1988 the club was going through another transition, with newly formed Magpie Group trying to wrestle control of the board, which eventually led to John Hall's chairmanship. Fast forward 21 years and the only difference appears to be that rather than an unseemly squabble as to who should own the club, there is now an owner who doesn't want it, and no one interested (or stupid) enough to meet the asking price.

As the on-pitch results are really pleasant to see, don't be fooled. Sitting in an automatic promotion place after four games is great, but it won't last if the situation with the management of the whole of the club isn't sorted out. Playing staff are hemorrhaging out of SJP as the lure of more attractive contracts are waved in front of their avaricious faces with little sign of any sort of replacements coming in (Danny Simpson doesn't count, he's a Manure cast off), combined with the team having a temporary manager (with the spectre of Alan Shearer casting a long shadow over the first team). The current set of results aren't sustainable. A situation that has desperately needed resolving gets more acute.

To quote from the current edition of The Mag (no 238, if you are interested):-

"Sadly as the months have drifted by...Mike Ashley became precisely a unique villain in Newcastle's history. And that is some achievement at NUFC - purveyors of chaos since 1982"

And so the cycle of despair and hope (albeit in only small glimmers) continues.

Bagging a point

WBA 1 Toon 1

On the way to the game we played a new game to keep us entertained, 'guess which clubs are in the same division as we are?' It look us a while, and I'll confess that the whole of the car laughed hysterically when I inquired if we'd be playing Luton Town this season? (apparently they ceased troubling the league statisticians some time ago). It all felt a bit unreal yesterday, traveling to a game in blazing sunshine, going to a familiar ground, seeing a team playing in a strip that is an affront to the eyes; and then there was the tributes to Sir Bobby. We'd all thought that it was going to be an emotional day and it proved to be so.

The tributes to Sir Bobby, ranged from scrawled on bed sheets proclaiming adoration for the man to freshly minted shirts bearing his name. The applause started long before the scheduled one minute and lasted for a long time after. A fitting tribute to the man and to all those in football he touched.

The game itself was a mixture of the same hangover from last year with a little bit of added new angst. Shola had a shocker, Nolan looked unfit, and Gutierrez promised way more than he delivered. The positives were, Smith looks like he may make a good Championship captain, Duff finally hit a ball sweetly, and Stevie Taylor is going to do well in this division. Another positive was that Shola's clumsiness in sideswiping Harper's forehead meant that Tim Krul got a chance to show that he really is a class 'keeper. Without him I doubt Newcastle would be mid-table now, definitely one for the future, maybe along with Nile Ranger, who managed to get onto the pitch for the last 90 seconds.

A couple of additional observations from the game, the warm up was interesting (yes - I drove so we arrived a full hour early). It was obvious who the starting 11 were, they all warmed up together on the right hand side of the pitch. Whilst, the substitutes warmed up on the left hand side of the pitch, with one exception - Barton spent the 20 minute warm up kicking a ball back and forwards with the Newcastle mascot - no one talking to him, no one involving him in any of the planning for the game. His whole body language sets him apart from the rest of the team. More trouble ahead with this, ahem, character methinks.

Also, I wonder if Ashley is getting the message yet - the number of times 2700 folk felt the need to sing "Get out of our club, get out of our club...." (decency prevents me from writing the rest of the song). Seeing as the BBC are reporting this morning that he's now thinking of staying on and appointing O'Leary as manager, I'd guess that he's a little hard of hearing. If this man is supposed to be such a good businessman, how can he think that alienating the whole of the customer base is a good way to make more money? Madness.

A final thought, last season we started with a 1-1 draw in the sunshine, against the eventual champions and ended up relegated. I think that if things don't change in terms of ownership and management, the same could happen again. Newcastle United - never dull.

Sadness - Part 1

I'd just got out of a meeting yesterday and my phone chirruped with a text* - "Sir Bobby has passed away". Whilst this was probably the least surprising news, it still provoked an unexpected sense of sadness within me.

I never met Bobby Robson, but I'd stood in grounds singing his name "Walking in a Robson wonderland" as the team he created and I supported entertained me. He was responsible for a resurgence in the fortunes (no doubt both in a financial and footballing sense) of the football club. His passion and for his job shone through. I remember after one game, standing in a busy pub with the throb of conversation pulsing around me, all dissecting the the previous 90 minutes entertainment. As ever the TVs were all on in the background, merely adding to the noise. However, as the after match interviews started and the second that Bobby Robson's face flickered onto the screen a quietness settled over the pub. People wanted to listen to what he had to say about football - his passion, knowledge and honesty shone through.

Many of the tributes that are being given talk about his compassion. He directly touched my life once. In 2003 I was on my way to SJP to watch Toon v Man City. Now, living in Manchester and having a number of friends who are City fans, this was always one of the special fixtures that I'd make the trip to SJP for. I never saw that game - I had a bad car crash on the A1 and ended up in hospital for the next few days. I was lucky, I recovered fairly quickly but the friend who was in the car with me wasn't as fortunate, she broke her back. Over the next few weeks after the crash I helped out with whatever I could for her, and one of the things that I did was write to the club to see if they would send her something to cheer her up.

I'd explained that my friend was a City fan, and the circumstances of the accident. To be honest as I posted the letter I wondered if I was wasting the stamp. By return of post came a get well card, signed by Sir Bobby. The card was special, not a flashy corporate standardised card, but something that looked like it had been done in Wordart, signed in felt-tip pen by Bobby. We joked at the time that it looked like Bobby had done it himself on the computer... Thinking about it now, he just might have done. I hope that card is still treasured. It's one small example of the compassion that he showed for others.

His humour was also a overriding feature - apparently he regularly got players names wrong. One of those was Shola Ameobi, who when asked how Robson pronounced his name said "Carl Court". The other was Bryan Robson, who at the World Cup was called 'Bobby' by Robson... In the wrong context it would have been easy to dislike someone who gets your name wrong. But its interesting that Shola was one of the players who has laid a wreath for Bobby at SJP and Bryan has been keen to add his words to the tributes that have been given.

Next weekend sees the West Brom game, I'm going. Bobby Robson played for West Brom and managed Newcastle. The last game that I went to I was determined not to get emotional, not to shed a tear for the demise of my team. I'm not so sure it will be the same next weekend for Sir Bobby Robson.


* I've still no idea who sent me that text...

Laughing Stock - Part 97

Just when I'd started to think it couldn't get any worse, NUFC reapply the 12 bore to the foot and pull the trigger - again. Not content with the pain of relegation, the debacle in the boardroom, the complete absence of a manager (Chris Hughton doesn't count), and a squad shuffling towards the exit door; the kit manufactures have now got in on the act with this debacle. Now, I'm aware that I moaned on about last seasons away kit, but this one is so bad it makes the purple one look tame. What is even worse is that its given the BBC the opportunity to wheel out some local window-lickers to comment on the kit - along with the snappy title "Crowds down for NUFC away kit" apparently three (fool)hardy souls queued for the 'honour' of purchasing one of these monstrosities.

A couple of weeks ago I took myself off for an evening of non-football related entertainment (so much more edifying, so much less stress) and went to see The Twang at Manchester Academy. Birmingham's finest band have a new album out in August and are getting back on the road after being in the studio for about a year. This was their first gig, of what I expect will be a long tour and a such the ticket prices were relatively cheap. The gig was great fun, the band interspersing tracks from the new album (which no one knew) with some of the old favourites. A good night was had by all (even though they only played a short set) and it certainly wasn't diminished at all when the band had to stop in the encore because they had forgotten the words one of their oldest songs... The crowd laughed, it added to the enjoyment of the evening and then we helped the band 'remember' the words.

I learned a long time a go not to pay any attention to pre-season games. They are full of over-weight and uninterested players who are either concerned about not getting injured or about getting a better contract. I long ago learned that if Newcastle have a stunning pre-season then a mediocre season will ensue (the reverse is also true, last season we managed to draw with PSV Eindhoven, and beat Valencia - and look how well we fared!), as a result I stopped going. However, I'd love to think that yesterday's result was just a case of forgetting the words, but somehow I think its a symptom of a deeper malaise. Still, at least its given the press to confirm our laughing stock status, oh, how Man City must be relieved.

However, like a moth to a flame, I still haven't given up. The half-feared text came through this week... "Want tickets for the Baggies game?" So despite the game being live on BBC, it being half-way through the holidays and all of the mess mentioned above, I'm going. I feel like I'm rubbernecking at a car smash... I know I shouldn't look, but I can't look away.

Sort it out

Says it all really.....

Talking of....

- Malaysian takeovers
- Player revolts [insert own joke]
- No manager
- A season that is starting in a months time

As ever NUFC manage to make themselves a laughing stock, even by doing nothing. For once doing nothing isn't an option.

Despair, disarray and disunity - the new watchwords at SJP

Advertising Standards

It's no great surprise that the advertising industry is being hit hard by the economic woes of the world. Have you noticed that even TV is now having to advertise the power of advertisements? I'd guess this is one of the best barometers of both the state of the economy as well the change in the revenue models for TV. You always recall the good adverts, and if they are done well they become intimately associated with the product they are selling - for example Cadbury's Gorilla, Guinness Horses and Surfers or the Smash Martians. However, some advertising is just plain wrong. My current hate is the Iggy Pop, Swiftcover ad. After years of leaping around a dance floor to Iggy's Lust for Life, there is something deeply disturbing that Iggy has gone lusting after the adverting dollar. I have no problem with him needing to supplement his pension, but with a cheesy insurance ad? I develop tourette's every time I see the ad.

Equally, the emergence this week of a 34 page brochure advertising the *cough* icon that is Michael Owen, who 'may consider a move away from St James' Park' *really, I'd never have guessed* is just plain wrong. This glossy contains some interesting facts about Brand Owen, including 0.5 goals per game ratio, his current sponsors (Umbro, Tissot and BMW - in case you are mildly interested) and how he isn't really injury prone. Its the fact that he is being hawked around (in English, Spanish and Italian) that is so unedifying. Don't get me wrong, I'd not hankering back to the days of the bags full of cash in motorway service stations in order to transfer a player from club to club, this just feels so extreme, so impersonal, so desperate.

What is does demonstrate is that the corportisation and internationalisation of football is complete. EMO, will load up his metaphorical saddlebags of Newcastle United's cash and hightail it out of town. Like the mercenary that he is, he'll tip up somewhere new, do a job for a couple of years and quickly erase the memories of his time in the black and white shirt. When he arrived at the Toon he was damaged goods, and he'll leave us the same... only several million pounds richer. Brings a new definition to 'living on past glories'. Cheerio, Michael, shut the door on your way out - you won't be missed.

With regards to the rest of the squad, no doubt the exodus will start next week - rumours are legion, but I'm not paying too much attention. Far more pressing matters of managers/owners are taxing my thoughts...and depressing me. Unfortunately, I can see a fire sale of the talent (such as it is) from the squad, and administration is looming. A ten point deduction before we even start in the Championship - what joy.

On a lighter note - I've mentioned in the past that I live fairly near Old Trafford. This week coming back from work a Audi R8 appeared in my rear view mirror... Immediate thought was "*tut* footballer" I wasn't wrong, as he pulled next to me at the lights, I saw that the driver was Fellaini - him of the big hair fame.

You heard it here first.

Doomed

As the only thing that emanates from SJP current is a deafening silence (maybe that's because Newcastle have sacked their head of media relations, oh no, I recall now Ashley has always been rubbish at communicating with his 'target audience') it is safe to assume that the club is rapidly disappearing around a metaphorical U-bend and if we aren't careful its looking likely that its unlikely ever to come back.

No manager, playing staff who are pledging allegiance to their lucrative contracts with no relegation clauses in them (until a better offer comes along), an owner who invites bids for the club on email, a chairman who seems incapable of letting a word of truth escape from his lips - the list goes on and on. Even Shearer has given up on talking to the press.

A triple whammy; years of poor team management, add in the recent financial mismanagement, and then a dollop of relegation, mix them all together, leave to marinade for a season... Hey presto... I give you Leeds United. The final icing on this cake is the recent Setanta woes, which is bound to have an effect on the TV money and therefore the shaky financial standing of the club.

The sun may be shining, but its very, very dark in SJP at the moment.