Newcastle United – Page 12 – Middle Age Fanclub

An ode to Matt Ritchie and why his injury could prove disastrous to Newcastle United.

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I was driving home on Wednesday night when I heard the news of Matt Ritchie’s injury. Ironically I was driving home to Leeds from Newcastle where I’d been visiting family and friends. My self-imposed boycott – 8 years and counting thanks, Mr Ashley – meant that even though I was home I wouldn’t be in attendance as Newcastle bowed out of the cup in traditional fashion once again.

Ritchie’s injury brought a much greater significance to a game that I’d fully expected us to lose. They say that with Newcastle United it’s the hope that kills you. Well, in terms of the cups, I gave up hoping a long, long time ago. So actually, I was fairy impressed that we’d put out a scratch team and actually drawn the match over 90 minutes. The loss on penalties was par for the course. But then came a different kind of hope.

As I watched the highlights and Hamza Choudry’s crunching challenge on Ritchie, I immediately feared the worst. Here was as good an example of a straight red card as one could hope to see. But it wasn’t given because referees and Newcastle often don’t mix. The sight of Ritchie hopping out of the challenge and trying to stay up before collapsing to the ground sent a shiver down my spine.

Matt Ritchie is my favourite player. In fact, if you look at my Twitter feed – @grahamcrosby – I can fairly regularly be seen to be declaring him the best player in the world. It’s as close as I’ll get to loving a footballer. I’ve always had a taste for wide players. I was one myself and feel that I can identify with their role. It all started in the 70s as I attended St. James’ Park with my dad to watch an utterly uninspiring Newcastle United side containing, over the years, the likes of Tommy Cassidy, Irving Nattrass, John Connolly and Alan Gowling. My favourite though, was Micky Burns. From memory he was a workmanlike winger who would graft up and down in front of me in the East Stand. There was no discernable pace and little skill, but I loved watching him. Micky Burns was the Matt Ritchie of his day. Possibly. Later I’d fall for wide men such as Waddle, Sellars, Lee, Tino, Ginola, Solano, Robert and Ben Arfa, but I’d never forget Micky Burns. I’d also have to put up with people like Alan Davies – God rest his soul – and Wayne Fereday, so I think I deserved the likes of Ginola and mad Hatem. But Matt Ritchie is my current beau.

Ritchie first caught my attention when he played for Swindon under the notorious, horrible, referee assaulting mackem fascist Paolo Di Canio. If you’re reading this Paolo, I hope all the dry cleaning in the world never got those knee slide trousers clean. I’d occasionally watch Swindon on Sky or just catch goals on highlights shows and Ritchie would always turn up.

He then went to Bournemouth, where a lot of Geordies will remember him for the incredible volley he scored at Dean Court against sunderland. Here was a player that I coveted, but never imagined we’d sign. He wasn’t French enough for a start. And so – and I can’t be the only one who does this – my imagined ‘scouting’ would once again go to waste. But sign him we did.

Arriving as we prepared for a promotion attempt, having been relegated under Rafa, here was a sign that we meant business. We payed £12m as a Championship team and persuaded him to drop down a division and to me as a fan, that meant a lot. Here was a bloke that wanted to take on this challenge. Here was a bloke who wasn’t frightened of the potential mess that was put in front of him. Here was Matt Ritchie – I felt at one with Rafa Benitez!

One of the first things he talked about would remind me of Kevin Keegan. And for me, Ritchie is a Keegan type player. In early interviews Ritchie spoke of his father-in-law, an exiled Geordie and how he’d tell him of the joys of Newcastle United. Ritchie bought into the club straight away and was quoted as telling journalists who asked about his decision to drop down a division, ‘You cannot pass up an opportunity like Newcastle’. Much like Keegan and his tales of his exiled Geordie father, Ritchie was endearing himself to the faithful straight away. Here was a player to fall for.

Since his arrival Ritchie has been a pivotal part of the team. And so his injury and the two months out that it threatens to bring will prove crucial to the Toon. Much is made of the captaincy of Lascelles, the finesse of Schar and the pace of Almiron, but for me Matt Ritchie is the talisman and leader of this particular group.

I coach my son’s under 11 team and can get quite obsessed with the role. This often means that when we sit down to watch games, I’m constantly ranting to him about how a player made a run or what decision was made. All in the name of progress though! Matt Ritchie is someone I always draw his attention to as an example of how things are done. My son is ten and impressed with Dele Alli’s handshakes and Jesse Lingaard’s dancing, and while I want him to enjoy his football, I also want him to see the value of passion, desire and working hard. Matt Ritchie encapsulates all of these qualities.

There will be much to miss about Ritchie in the coming months and thankfully some of his time out will be taken up by the first international break of the season. We’ll undoubtedly miss his work rate. Ritchie is a renowned grafter and footage of him sprinting back into position at the very end of last week’s win away at Spurs was great to watch, but nothing remarkable for him. He leaves nothing out on the pitch, as they say and he’s always looked like one of those players that might well die for the cause.

Ritchie also brings a wealth of experience, which often comes out in his talking on the pitch. Throughout any game he seems incredibly vocal; barking orders, cajoling others and generally chuntering along at himself. He seems bad-tempered with it, which can be a useful motivating factor for those around him. A lot was made of the relationship between him and Miguel Almiron last season, but I for one didn’t notice much to worry about. My take was that we had a seasoned professional talking a fairly young and inexperienced new signing through exactly what was required of him. Ritchie was merely Rafa on the pitch and acting as the kind of player that Sir Bobby Robson would have referred to as one of his ‘blue chip boys’. He isn’t afraid of giving out the odd bollocking either, which when the stakes are high is a valuable tool to have. I’m not sure kicking the arse of Christian Atsu, as witnessed last weekend at Spurs, would be found in any coaching manuals, mind!

Another excellent quality that Ritchie possesses is that he never hides. He demands the ball and commits everything to every single challenge and run. There’s the odd trick in him too and he can certainly pass a ball. His delivery from wide areas especially will be missed and could be something that costs us dearly with Joelinton and dare I say it, Andy Carroll waiting in the box. He reads the game well and is often in the right place at the right time to make a vital block or interception. Ritchie is brave in possession and hungry for the ball when out of possession and as we scrap for every available point in what could be a long next few months, it’s almost cruel that our under pressure manager has been robbed of this player.

The last thing that I think fans as well as players will miss is Ritchie’s enthusiasm. I don’t pretend to be ‘in the know’, but I imagine that he is the kind of character that galvanises a team. You can see it in the way he screams at officials when he senses injustice. It’s there in a very different way when there’s a goal and someone is the recipient of a dozen forceful slaps to the head – an in joke? I don’t know, but again it’s the kind of thing that appeals to team mates – the ones who’s heads remain unslapped – and fans. And it’s also there as he’s kicking the shit out of corner flags!

I sincerely hope that Ritchie isn’t missed too much and it would be nice to think that in his absence someone steps up to fill his boots. But this is Newcastle United where a crisis is never far away and rarely averted. Let’s hope that Ritchie’s back sooner, rather than later.

Newcastle United – a football club divided?

Unfortunately I couldn’t get a picture of the newly painted wall at SJP.

I’ve supported Newcastle United for forty years now and I feel like I’ve seen a lot. I watched blokes who looked like they’d just stepped out of the nearest pub representing us for years, but I’ve also witnessed the likes of Gascgoine, Keegan, Beardsley, Cole, Cabaye, Ginola and many others who have more than graced the shirt. I’ve watched us lose away at Bournemouth long before they were a Premier League club and I was there when Andy Griffin scored the goal in the Champions’ League that beat Juventus. And while I’ve never sampled the corporate hospitality of Premier League football, I’ve stood in a very different St. James’ Park to the one we know today. To paraphrase Lindisfarne, I’ve “wet on the wall” in the Gallowgate end, which if you’re old enough, is actually probably quite a pleasant memory.

I’ve sampled the agony and the ecstasy that goes with supporting Newcastle and I’ve sampled it in spades, but I have never felt as confused and conflicted as I do today.

Back in 1989 I walked past my cousin on the way into St. James’ Park for the opening day on of the then Division 2 season. Nothing remarkable in that, you might think, unless you’re a bit younger and have no concept of what Division 2 was. However, in terms of our support for Newcastle United that day, we were a family torn apart. That day I walked through a boycott in order to support my team. My cousin, on the other hand, was prepared to protest to end the rule over the club of a particularly unambitious regime.

With Gordon McKeag as chairman Newcastle had been run on a shoestring budget for years. We were the very definition of mediocre, with years of selling our better players and under-spending on their replacements and as a result were destined to stay beneath the top tier for years to come. The ‘Supporters for Change’ group had had enough and they organised a boycott of this first match. Thousands stayed away, some standing at various entrances to St. James’ Park, imploring those going in to change their minds and stay out. Despite my cousin’s plea – and some abuse at my ‘scab’ status – I went in.

I was rewarded with a 5-2 win against Leeds that included four goals for Micky Quinn, our new number 9, making his debut that day. I think I still have the issue of The Pink from that evening. But I was left desperately frustrated at the end of the season – as with many other seasons – as we failed to get promoted, losing to Sunderland in the Play-Off semi-final. Perhaps I should have boycotted. It didn’t work in that particular season and I continued to attend. However, within a few years McKeag and his cronies had been ousted by Sir John Hall, a movement at least in part brought about by boycotts and protest. By that time I’d begun a small protest of my own which I would carry out at every game attended. Ever in fear of authority though, I’d simply scribbled ‘McKeag Out!’on to the back of my scarf in marker pen and would furtively reveal it during matches, all the while fearing being kicked out by an over zealous McKeagite steward. With rebels like me about it’s no wonder social media does so well nowadays.

Almost thirty years on and there’s another boycott. This time though, along with many others, I’m taking part. And like myself back in 1989, many others are not. Newcastle, once again, doesn’t feel very united at all. Thirty years on and nothing has really changed. Yes, there’s been relative success in between times, but after 12 years of Mike Ashley’s ownership we’re faced with a club that is not only divided, but is sleepwalking through a period of utter mediocrity. For myself and thousands of like-minded souls now is the time to take action. A disregard for cup competitions in favour of the race for 17th place, a world class manager traded in for a journeyman from the managerial old boys’ club and a lack of consistent investment on players, the stadium, the training ground and the academy. The list could go on and on, but those are some of the headlines.

And yet, many fans continue to vow to attend matches. Somehow, the blatant disregard for our club doesn’t seem to matter. Somehow, it’s not enough.

I understand. I can empathise. I get it. But I can’t follow suit. Not again.

The lure of your football team is enormous. Look away now Premier League tourists, but silverware doesn’t have to matter. Glory doesn’t have to be a Champions’ League campaign or wining the league. What matters is the pull of your club. The feel for the town, the city, the region. The feeling of being surrounded by like-minded people from all kinds of backgrounds, all pulling in the same direction. The love of the club and those players and that shirt. That badge. So I understand that people don’t want to boycott. I understand that people don’t want a matchday without St. James’ Park or a trip down the country to watch Newcastle. Especially as, in my opinion, we have a special club in Newcastle United. But it is possible to stay away and in many people’s view, it is all we have left if we want change.

It’s sad to see but our fanbase is now split. Boycotters are criticising those who attend and those who attend are questioning the loyalty of those that boycott. And it’s exactly what the likes of Ashley, Charnley and Bishop want. Divide and conquer, right? The club know that the supporters will find it nigh on impossible to give up on their team. After all, that trophy drought – 50 years and counting – is well publicised. And yet we still fill the stadium every other week. So Ashley and co have gambled for a while now. Keep the spending low, survive in the Premier League and they’ll still turn up. And in doing so, there’s a big chunk of money to be had as a reward, as well as all the free advertising you can cram in.

Every so often there’s talk of a takeover to placate those who are genuinely disgruntled and by the time it comes to nothing you’ve renewed your season ticket in some act of blind loyalty. And as fans, we’ve fallen for the same tricks for the last 12 years. So how long before more change their minds and decide that enough is enough?

The trouble here is a question of loyalty. As the song goes, “we are the loyalist football supporters the world has ever seen”, so staying away goes against the grain. Our loyalty has been blind for a long time now. Take out Keegan’s, Robson’s and Rafa’s teams – and in fairness a season worth of Pardew – and recent history doesn’t leave a lot to be loyal to. But we’ve stayed loyal. Rafa brought us more hope than we’d had in a long time and meant that the loyalty was more than worth it. So now, post Rafa, thousands are staying loyal and criticising those that have had enough. The fans who are boycotting are largely pro-Rafa, while those that choose to still attend matches seem to now be picking Rafa apart. Turns out they never really liked him or his tactics after all. And there are many who are calling those who boycott out on the question of loyalty. In my own case, for example, after forty years of support, where thirty odd of them have seen me attending games, I’m not a fan.

But, in my opinion, loyalty can be shown in different ways and there’s a big picture that needs to be looked at here. The boycotters can see that the club have broken their transfer record twice in the last 6 months or so. We can see that other money has been invested in the playing squad – although, net spend, net spend, net spend…but let’s not get too bogged down there. We can even see that an entire wall at St. James’ Park has been given a shiny lick of black paint. Oh, and that the players’ entrance has been revamped. However, this isn’t enough to buy our loyalty. And it’s not enough to ignore the last 12 years of mismanagement and neglect. Not by a long way.

My loyalty is to Newcastle United, not Mike Ashley’s Newcastle United. I owe nothing to the Sports Direct Arena and nothing to the large scale advertising project that has been inflicted on my club for over a decade. My loyalty tells me to stay away from all of that, because in staying away I live in the hope that myself and thousands of others are forcing change. Hopefully change of ownership. This is loyalty to a cause. A cause for the good of Newcastle United. And in sitting in the stadium and handing that man your cash every week, nothing’s going to change. You can support the team, but I fear that it won’t change a thing. It won’t be enough.

For myself and thousands of other Newcastle supporters – and like it or not, that’s what we are – it’s time for change. In effect, thirty years on, we are still supporters for change. We can’t ignore over a decade that’s served up JFK, Wise, Pardew, paddling pool ice baths, awful kit deals that lead to awful kit, the horrific mismanagement of commercial link-ups, threatened player strikes because of year in, year out bonus cock ups, Lambias, Yohan Kebab and Charles Insomnia, sneaky, childish V signs from owner to fans, staff pizza nights by way of reward for professional sportsmen and world class coaches, pitch side headbutts, exclusive interviews that fail to ask pertinent questions, the open derision shown to fans by not only the ownership, but at times the management – Steve, Pards, Joe, I’m looking at you – , players signed from YouTube, banning the local paper, press conferences where journalists are referred to as c**ts…face it, the hits just keep on coming and this could be almost an inexhaustible list. Suffice to say though that my loyalty doesn’t stretch to that.

The mess made of Rafa Benitez’s contract was too much for me. It was too much for a lot of us. The disingenuous claims made by the club hierarchy since Rafa went have left a bitter taste. Out of it all has come The Magpie Group, the NUST and several other protest groups, all fighting for the same cause – to oust Mike Ashley and end his disastrous tenure of Newcastle United. All too predictably though, I still class myself as a Newcastle United supporter. I can’t completely desert the club. I was brought up with this club and it’s in my bones. Yes, I made a decision almost a decade ago now to give up my season ticket and not go back to St. James’ Park until Mike Ashley was gone, but I resent the views of people who still attend and now question my loyalty or accuse me of not supporting the club.

And this is what it’s come to. Name-calling, bitter claims on either side, ignorance and especially online, a whole host of smart-arse remarks. But the people who still populate the ground on matchday cannot question our loyalty in boycotting the games. All those years ago, I felt embarrassed walking past my cousin and his mates in the Supporters For Change. But there was no abuse on either side. I understood what he was trying to achieve and he understood my need to go and support the team. Nowadays, I won’t criticise those who attend. I don’t really understand what it’s going to take to see them vacate their seats, but I won’t criticise them. Perhaps, by the time the next game comes around, some more will decide to boycott. Perhaps, it’ll take a season or perhaps, like me, it’ll take decades of misery.

The point here is that Mike Ashley isn’t doing a very good job of running Newcastle United. An understatement if ever there was one! And we’re not talking about winning trophies here and fans making unreasonable demands. The mantra has always been about a team that tries and pride in the shirt. No one supports Newcastle United as part of a pursuit of trophies. Ashley himself has admitted that he’d give himself ‘1 out of 5’ for his ownership of the club. He admits he’s a negative. He simply hasn’t got the skills to run this particular football club. And despite all of this there are still thousands of fans that are quite prepared to stick by him, which makes us more divided than ever.

And the we get to the appointment of Steve Bruce as the new manager, Rafa’s successor. Now, I’ve nothing against Steve Bruce. He seems like a nice enough bloke and I particularly liked the Twitter account where he turned up at people’s weddings. Not real, you say? Well, I’ll have to look into that. Serial wedding crasher or not, in my opinion Steve Bruce doesn’t have what it takes to manage Newcastle United. He’s never done well at Premier League level and his appointment smacks of a managing director who is out of ideas. Uninspiring, unambitious and in many ways, desperate. Surely even those who are still attending, those that renewed season tickets, can’t actually believe that Steve Bruce is the right choice.

Newcastle United are more divided than ever. An owner who is despised, a managing director who doesn’t appear to be up to the job and a manager that isn’t wanted and deep down, must realise that he isn’t wanted. Add to that a fanbase who are now very much in two opposing factions. For me, this boycott has to work otherwise it’s terrifying to even think about the future.

Newcastle United – addressing the state of our nation.

This isn’t some kind of mock speech. It’s not an address where you’ll learn anything particularly new, but I do hope to add to what seems to be a growing number of fans thinking in much the same way. Because what needs to happen is going to take numbers. And I do hope to address the state of our club. And what a state it’s in.

Newcastle United are a proud club. We are 126 years old and as such have had a history that has been eventful to say the least. We’ve sat, several times, at the very top of the pile dominating English football and we’ve had our own personal rock bottom years too. We’ve never dropped into League 1, mind.

Sadly though, for the majority of the last 12 years, Newcastle United have been nothing short of a shambles and while there has been some relative success it has always been clouded by darkness, a lack of ambition and it would seem at times an unfathomable determination to do anything possible in order to alienate its fan base. We are a club stricken by disease and until we find a cure, Newcastle United cannot move forward and will continue, tragically, to be overtaken by the likes of Watford, Bournemouth and Southampton.

Mike Ashley ruined my club for me. His actions and his decisions made me give up on what had been a lifetime obsession. Born and raised in Newcastle I had followed my father in supporting our home town team. This had nothing to do with glory-hunting or bandwagon jumping; this was a decision made out of love, pride and blind loyalty. We were in Division 2 (the equivalent of the Championship) at the time. That was my story. That was the same story that many of us would have. But, having sat through so many highs and lows that I’d lost count I gave up my season ticket because of Mike Ashley and his cronies.

The infamous Hull City game made up my mind. It was September 2008, Kevin Keegan had just resigned and we were facing up to our first game without him, again. The atmosphere was toxic, the ground a seething cauldron of pure anger and hate. I sat, having previously been moved to a place in a different part of the ground away from people I’d spent years with, feeling alone and helpless to stop what was going on with the club. My decision was made that day. I would see out the season regardless of what happened – we were relegated – and I would never go back until there was no Mike Ashley.

I’ve never been back. It’s a decision that has been made slightly easier as I now have children and I live 100 miles away, but it still breaks my heart. As a kid and even as a young man, not going to St. James’ Park was something I couldn’t comprehend. But things change and people get older, move on and welcome other obsessions into their lives, like families. I had a family and had put some distance between myself and Newcastle. Neither reason would have stopped me going without Ashley though. I read the newspapers, watch the games and reports on television and scan through social media for news of my club. But it’s not the same. A chunk of me has been taken away.

So what started off as a small boy – I think I was 6 – going to home games with his dad and sitting fascinated by the colour and the noise and the fact that people genuinely got paid to play for my team, at the back of the East Stand, then blossomed into attending games with my mates and doing anything I could to scrape together the money to afford the ticket. As a teenager I started to travel to away games too, opening up a whole new world of following the Toon and just multiplying my adoration for the club. This continued as a young man and well into my late thirties. When I had kids I naturally assumed that this would be something we’d do together, like me and my dad had many years before. But no. Mike Ashley and his reign of neglect have forced my hand, like it will have done to many other fathers. So if you thought describing this whole scenario as heartbreaking was a bit over the top, then maybe now you can understand.

Recently, even following from a distance has been painful. We’ve had two stable seasons and the signs have been good. We’ve had a world class manager; a man who clearly loves the club, the area, the people. We’ve – sort of – broken our longstanding transfer record. We have a team that cares, and team that tries and who, it would seem, would lay their bodies on the line for our club. It had seemed like this never-say-die quality was going to be supplemented by even better players. But no. Despite meeting with his manager weeks ago and despite said manager providing a list of potential signings Newcastle United has ground to a halt. Rafa Benitez – he of Champions’ League winning, managing some of the top sides in Europe, Paul Dummett transforming, popping his glasses back in his top pocket after games, calling it a cloob, and telling us C’mon Toons! – has been dispensed with.

It came as a shock, but at the same time was no shock whatsoever. Whichever way you look at it the decision was the most Mike Ashley thing ever (until the next one) and had I been a betting man I could have cleaned up. The offer made to the manager was never going to match his ambitions and it would seem that this was wholly intentional. And in the end why would any manager want to stay at a club that wouldn’t let him manage?

Rafa Benitez will be a huge loss to us all. His arrival awakened the club and in truth it awakened something in us all, too. He brought vision, class, passion, expertise and understanding, where before we’d had John Carver talking about the guys at the club, Alan Pardew talking about himself and forever adding to a seemingly never-ending list of excuses and Joe Kinnear talking out of his arse. Rafa did none of that. Rafa gave us hope.

Rafa also helped bring back pride and dignity to not only our supporters but to the region too. It gladdened my heart to see the pictures of him and his staff taking in the local landmarks a couple of years ago, in order to learn more about their new environment. And then there was his work with the Newcastle United Foundation and the NUFC Foodbank – both causes that the likes of Pardew wouldn’t have touched with the proverbial bargepole. There will undoubtedly be lots more causes that Rafa took an interest in, lots more lives that he touched, that you or I will never know of.

Rafa Benitez got Newcastle United. He understood the people, the city and the region. He invested in us and although it’s a terrible cliché, he became one of us. He stands alongside Kevin Keegan and Sir Bobby Robson as one of the greatest Newcastle managers of the modern era, as well as one of the most popular. It’s nothing short of a crime that the powers that be at our club – it’s not theirs – have allowed his contract to run down and essentially dismissed him. I understand that he wanted to leave, but that has nothing to do with anything or anyone other than Mike Ashley and his gang of halfwits. These people have made our club into a shambles by taking backward step after backward step and all of it without any real communication with their customer base; the fans. While all of this has gone on, off the back of – relatively speaking – another successful season, the club have churned out ‘no comment’ after ‘no comment’. In the end, what was happening was as predictable as it was inevitable. Most of all, it was heart-breaking.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the background, a takeover has been brewing. Someone in possession of both a shedload of money and a modicum of common sense had seen the potential of our club. It was really going to happen this time, right?

Wrong. Even amidst talk of a takeover it’s been difficult to get excited. There was optimism for a short while; someone was communicating with the fans. We didn’t know who they were or whether they had the money to buy the club, let alone whether Ashley would sell, but these people were telling us it was on. But as with Staveley and Kenyon (Christ, even like Barry Moat!), the trail has gone eerily quiet. We’ve gone from the bookies giving us relatively short odds on signing Kylian Mbappe to the majority of people suspecting yet another false dawn in a matter of weeks. A Newcastle United story if ever there was one. Aye, another one! But just because it’s all so very Newcastle United doesn’t make it any easier to take. And the silence from the club – apart from the now universally mocked ‘ no comment’ – is simply astounding. Astounding and absolutely unacceptable.

So what exactly is the state of our nation. Well, as I previously stated, it’s nothing short of a shambles. And that’s being reasonable. The club is quite simply an utter mess. At the time of writing we may or may not be being taken over by a billionaire. There should be a sense of optimism at the prospect of being labelled the new Man City and preparing ourselves to ride the wave of success that would inevitably bring. But there can’t be, can there? In actual fact, we can’t even be too sure that our owner, who put the club up for sale, actually wants to sell the club. And the fact that even one fan might regard this as a possibility is completely ridiculous. I’ve found myself looking at the buyer’s name to try and work out if it’s an anagram for something else that would reveal that we were being cruelly misled. We’ve seen an interview from Ashley himself, discussing the possibility of selling the club on more than one occasion and still, he might as well be saying that he’s attempting to sign Mickey Mouse for world record fee (for a mouse).

As I write we have no manager. We had one. A world class one. But those in charge of the club decided that his help, guidance, advice and football knowledge wasn’t really needed anymore. Not exactly a forward thinking approach. However, add that to the fact that pre-season training starts in a couple of days and you wouldn’t get many sane people questioning you when you tell them you expect another relegation this season. On top of that we know that Lee Charnley is in charge of appointing the next manager, and I don’t think I’d be alone in finding that prospect as one that sends a chill down my spine. That said, I’ve got to the point where I’m actually not that interested anymore. Whoever becomes the new manager will still inspire the same lies, lies and more lies that any other manager in the Ashley era has been faced with. And whoever they are, you’d be surprised to see them get anything more than another lick of paint to the training ground in the next few year, let alone any stellar signings.

The transfer window has been open for quite some time now and we’ve still done nothing. No incomings – so little change there then – and plenty of ridiculous stories linking us with players who we simply won’t buy because of the finance involved, which is exactly the same as previous seasons. Think about it, last season there were several clubs in the Championship that comfortably outspent us. Christ, we haven’t even sold Joselu yet and from what we read in the press he’s been heading through the door for the last three weeks! But hot off the press comes new of Ayoze Perez’s departure and the seemingly strong possibility that Sean Longstaff may also be sold. And still, according to some in the media, it’s not Mike Ashley’s fault, he’s doing nothing wrong and us Newcastle fans are unreasonable.

We could go on and on, but frankly it’s worse than depressing. Some people believe football to be a waste of time and a triviality that they sum up by telling you it’s ‘only a game’ or ‘it’s just a load of people chasing a ball around’. Well, they’re wrong. It’s an obsession for lots of us. It’s might well be the thing you love the most and if it isn’t it’ll be right up there. In times where mental health is an ever-growing issue, football can be something that brings unbridled joy and a smile to many a face. And if someone wants to trivialise something as wonderful and pure as that, then maybe they’re the trivial one. I’ve experienced many emotions across the course of my lifetime and some of the most joyous could have only been provided by football and specifically by Newcastle United. The joy, togetherness, laughter…even the heartache. Let me illustrate. On one occasion I sat in an ice rink and held hands with my two best mates while chanting ‘We three are one’ in order to somehow help John Burridge save a penalty. Our held hands were placed on top of a cut-out-and-keep picture of Uri Geller’s hand and our feet on top of each other’s, just to add that extra layer of stupidity and detail. Burridge saved the penalty – joy. We were three teenagers lads holding hands – togetherness that was ahead of its time, I think you’ll agree. We still laugh about it to this day. It was the first leg of the play-off semi-final against Sunderland and we lost the 2nd leg and didn’t get promoted – heartache. You’ll read this and understand exactly what I mean. But Mike Ashley, Lee Charnley, Keith Bishop, Dennis Wise and any of the others at the bottom of life’s barrel don’t understand at all. They wouldn’t go to anywhere near the lengths we go to in the name of their football club. And that’s exactly why things have to change.

I’ve never understood why Mike Ashley wanted Newcastle United. Not on a human level anyway. I understand the desperate need to grow his business, but even then, his junk shop was hugely successful and he was rich beyond his wildest dreams, without Newcastle United. So, as we know, it comes down to a simple matter of greed. He cannot get any pleasure, any fun, any joy out of our club. He can’t get what we get from Newcastle United. And in that aspect he can’t even begin to understand what it feels like to be one of us. He rarely even watches them play. He quibbles about buying players and employs PR staff to peddle us lines about being unable to compete with mediocre sides and relatively small clubs in order to try and dampen our enthusiasm and optimism for this thing that we’ve been brought up to love. He treats us like idiots even though you don’t have to be Einstein to work out that the Premier League is awash with money. So where’s ours, Mr Ashley?

Why bother, Mike? You’ll never be accepted and never be taken seriously. Face it, even your friendly apologists are on the payroll in some way. Our club has been dragged through the mud by your regime, suffering under the hands of people like Jiminez, Lambias, Kninear and Wise – although little Dennis’s hands were only tiny. We’ve been lied to and strung along and this has to be the last straw.

So how do we solve a problem like Mike Ashley? I don’t have a grand answer in terms of the protests that we could organise or a guaranteed way of removing that man from our club, but I know a way that we can and should hit back. It’s not original, but I reckon it would be effective. And if me writing this gets even one person to take some action, then we’ve had some success.

We no longer give him our money and we expose his lies to the world by boycotting games. As I mentioned previously, I gave up my season ticket years ago. It wasn’t a decision that I took lightly. Newcastle United have been a lifelong love and I adored everything about going to games. The sense of belonging was something to cherish even when we were being hammered into humiliation; something I’d grown used to. But the highs made it all worth it. Every chant that made me laugh reminded me of what I had. Every goal produced a joy that largely went unmatched elsewhere. Climbing the steps to look out over that ground, that pitch and watching those black and white stripes emerge from a tunnel meant the world to me. But I knew that I had to give it up. And I knew that others would be like-minded.

It’s hard. It’s unimaginably hard to face up to the fact that you’ll not be in your seat when there’s a game. It haunts you and you dream of the day when you’ll feel like you can go back. Like everything has slotted back into place. Because there’s something missing without it. And it’s an absolutely huge something as well.

But you have to give it up. Only for now. A temporary necessity, if you will. To keep going is to perpetuate the myth that everything’s alright. And it’s not alright. It’s not your club anymore. The shell is the same, but there’s a cancer attacking what’s at the heart of it and the only way to fight is to stop feeding it. That man wants you in your seat because it feeds his ego and helps to publicise his shop. Thousands of people sitting around his tacky logo looks like thousands of people endorsing it. But you can’t. You can’t endorse Wise, Kinnear, the Sports Direct Arena, Wonga, Xisco, Pardew, price rises, wheelie bin ice baths, paddling pools being used for the recovery of professional athletes at the training ground, selling off your best players and not replacing them and cheaply manufactured strips that denigrate our name. And you can’t endorse a regime that gives you John Carver, but tosses the likes of Shearer, Hughton and now Rafa Benitez away like used toys. That regime don’t want a Newcastle united. To endorse that is to open yourself up to the fact that it’s going to just keep happening.

So give up that season ticket. Walk away – just for now – from this relationship. And for a while, don’t look back. Fill that void – just for now – with something else. Rediscover family and friends, take up a hobby, follow a new sport or a different team (nonleague, of course). Do anything – just make it lawful – but don’t go back until he’s gone. Because one day we’ll get our club back.

Sean Longstaff & the Geordie dream.

What we all dream of as little lads in Newcastle: a statue just outside the ground that looks quite like you.

For Newcastle United fans, it’s been very much a season of ups and downs. No change there then. For many of us it’s been that way for decades. We’ll beat the likes of Manchester United, Barcelona or even Melchester Rovers one week but get beat by Hereford or Whitley Bay reserves the next. We’ll go out and sign Keegan, Asprilla or Kluivert but we’re also perfectly capable of landing a Rob Macdonald, Kevin Dillon or Gabriel Obertan. And in terms of managers there’s a Kinnear for every Benitez. Actually there’s two Kinnears for every Benitez, unfortunately. We’re that good at ups and downs.

In the absence of trophies we’ve often been forced to look for other highs. I mean, those Intertoto Cups don’t come along every week, you know. Often these highs have been found in the form of maverick players; David Ginola, Laurent Robert and Hatem Ben Arfa spring to mind. This sits well alongside the message that we demand a team that tries and not necessarily a team that is bringing home the Champions’ League each season. Give us effort and a bit of skill and we’ll back it. Sadly, we’ve had to. Give us trophies and we’d back those too, but I think we’re all realists when it comes to silverware.

One thing that is almost guaranteed to make us happy though, is a local lad doing well. Like trophies though, they’ve been few and far between over the years. Unlike trophies, I suppose, there have been some in living memory – because weirdly, some people really don’t count the Intertoto triumph.

‘Some of them might even be from Blaydon, like me.’

As a very young season ticket holder I didn’t realise that the players might come from different places. In my innocent mind these people in front of me, clad in those mesmeric stripes were just ordinary blokes from the North East. Some of them might even be from Blaydon, like me. And barring a few Scots and the odd southerner, I was about right. But I still wouldn’t say we had any local boys doing particularly well.

As I got older and my understanding greater I was aware of the likes of Kenny Wharton coming through the ranks and the likes of Chris Waddle and Peter Beardsley being brought in. And I worshipped them for being local, like me. These were lads who were out there, fulfilling my dream of playing for Newcastle United; fulfilling the dream of thousands of others too.

‘And then came Gazza.’

We’d heard about the past and the likes of Jackie Milburn – Wor Jackie – granted veritable sainthood for being not just one of us, but a fantastic footballer to boot. But it had been years since a local lad of that quality had come along. And then came Gazza. Paul Gascgoine. For some of us – lots of us in fact – he would quite possibly be the greatest player we would ever see wearing the black and white shirt. For me, I’m pretty sure that still rings true. Forget his demons, his personal life, his off-the-field habits; Gazza was a one off and a world beater. He had a God given talent. And here he was living within a few miles of the stadium and representing his boyhood club. I was around 14 when he was in his pomp at the Toon and, in footballing terms he was everything I would have wanted to be – outrageously skilful, tricky, quick and beyond compare. I worshipped him. We all did and our feelings were given that extra boost because of the fact that he was local.

I was there on the night of Wednesday 25th November when we played Blackpool – I think in a League Cup game – in the pouring rain, amongst less than 8,000 fans as Gazza won it with a peach of a goal and celebrated in front of the Leazes End with the Ali shuffle. It’s a memory that will never leave me. When he left the club it felt like someone had ripped my heart out and I couldn’t work out why a local lad would ever want to leave. I remember my dad had said it broke his heart when ‘Supermac’ left and now I knew how he felt.

‘…Paul Dummett will never really make the heart flutter.’

Since Gazza the production line hasn’t really given us many to believe in. Lee Clark and Andy Carroll both gave us hope, but never fulfilled their potential with the club. The likes of Steven Taylor and nowadays, Paul Dummett will never really make the heart flutter. But we’d all still give our right arm to do what they did. And then there was Alan Shearer, the local lad made good elsewhere who, thanks to Kevin Keegan, returned in a triumphant homecoming in 1996 for a then world record fee. Hard to imagine these days, right?

Shearer, of course succeeded in every aspect of the Geordie dream, taking the number 9 shirt and going on to become the greatest goal scorer that the club and the Premier League had ever seen. Trophies and medals didn’t matter – he fulfilled every little boy from the region’s dream, something that people outside of the region still seem to delight in not understanding. We’ll leave them to it.

Sean Longstaff is the latest off a slightly slow production line. He looks like he’ll take a slightly different path. He’s not the number 9. In fact as yet, we can’t quite pin down exactly what he will be. Is he a number 10, is he a deep lying defensive midfielder or will he become a Shelvey style quarter-back of a player? Keyboard pundits and hopefully Rafa Benitez will decide that. One thing’s for sure is that Longstaff is without doubt living the Geordie dream.

‘And wow, has he looked the part.’

Those in the know have suspected for a while that here was a kid who would make it. But I must confess, as the past couple of seasons have gone by and he’s been out on loan, I had started to wonder whether he’d make it with us. However, just as he was breaking into the squad, injuries to Shelvey, Diame and then Ki’s Asian Cup call up pushed him into the starting line-up. And wow, has he looked the part. Even as more accepted first-teamers have regained fitness he has kept his place in the team on merit.

Longstaff has slipped into the team playing like he’s been there for years. An unassuming youngster with a quiet confidence and a wealth of natural ability, Sean is very definitely an old head on young shoulders. His eye for a pass, accuracy and work rate are allied to a certain amount of steel and strength in the tackle and he looks every bit the complete midfield player. Let’s not forget that he’s come up against more or less the best that the Premier League can offer in terms of midfields so far and has more than held his own, earning praise from not only Rafa but Pep Guardiola along the way.

For us fans his emergence is a joy to behold. And while we’ve willed him to do well, in truth, it hasn’t looked like he’s needed us really. He’s clearly a special talent. The next Paul Dummett? Yes, but only in terms of being the latest local lad done good. While Dummett is hard working and functional, Longstaff oozes class. Both are doing their club and city proud, but Sean promises so much more. In fact, until injury struck he had looked a shoe-in for at least the England Under-21 squad.

‘Thankfully, the family remained on Tyneside…’

And yet, he could have gone the way of many others of the past, including Michael Carrick, with whom he’s drawn comparison from several experts this season. Sean’s father, David, was a much admired ice hockey player and at one stage it seemed like the family may move to Canada where there were offers aplenty for David’s talent. Sean himself even indulged in the sport. Thankfully, the family remained on Tyneside and Sean, as well as his younger brother Matty were able to pursue their own careers. The Longstaff boys weren’t destined to follow the Robsons, Shearers and Carricks by moving away, but could yet emulate their successful careers.

Longstaff’s performances so far this season have been full of promise. As mentioned previously, he’s slotted in with ease and looks more than comfortable with the burden placed on his young shoulders. He understands exactly what he’s achieved and what the levels of expectation will be like. After scoring in the win against Burnley at St. James’ Park he told journalists, “You ask any young boy in Newcastle and I think that’s the ultimate dream – to score a goal in front of your friends and family.” So pleased was he that he forgot which side of the ground his parents were actually on, running instead to the opposite side in celebration!

‘This boy can play.’

Statistics show that Longstaff’s strength is in his work rate. The data suggests that he’s covering well over 10km per game. And this isn’t simply just ‘running around’ or boyish enthusiasm. This is calculated graft, reading the game and a natural awareness of simply where to be or where to get to. However, this is not what has supporters excited, although it’s undoubtedly appreciated. This boy can play. Look at his passing and there’s an element of Shelvey or Cabaye. Dare I say it in terms of accuracy there could even be a touch of Gazza. Whichever way you look at it, he’s our brightest hope – locally – in many years.

Sadly, a knee injury seems to have curtailed Sean’s season and it looks likely that he won’t pull on the black and white shirt until July or August. However, even with only 13 appearances in league and cup, Longstaff has given Newcastle supporters something that they have and will always cherish: a local lad living the Geordie dream. Long may it continue.

Miguel Almiron: A New Hope?

Forget the money, the league and anything else; we all know they only sign for the bridges.

After several months of will we, won’t we, with peaks of excitement followed by troughs of an all too familiar despair, on Thursday 30th January Newcastle United, finally signed Miguel Almiron, a player identified as a priority several months before by Rafa Benitez.

The signing also broke a long-standing and well-publicised transfer record for the club. Fifteen years after we signed Michael Owen from Real Madrid for £16 million, we completed our search down the back of the settee to scrape together the slightly more than £16 million (although even that figure is shrouded in mystery) that it would take to complete the transfer of Almiron. So what does this mean for us, the fans? And what could it mean for the club?

‘We want a team that endeavours to be better.’

Firstly, Almiron’s arrival brings excitement. Every fan of every club loves a new arrival. They bring a chance for change. At a very basic level they mean that your team might be a bit better. As Newcastle United fans – despite what attention seekers like Merson, Keys and Gray might tell you – that’s all we want. We want a team that endeavours to be better. We’re realistic and understand that the Premier League title and the Champions’ League are out of our reach; but we do want our team to compete. Put simply then, Almiron gives us a better chance to compete in an increasingly competitive league.

Now I can’t confess to being the type of person who has the time or the inclination to sit and watch the MLS. As such, I have precious little knowledge of Almiron. But I’ve watched the clips shared on social media and via YouTube, and with fingers firmly crossed, I’d say we’ve bought a proper player. I’d like to think that I’ve gathered enough experience of football over the years to be able to be fairly sure of that. Almiron appears to bring the kind of flair and imagination that entertains; that gets fans out of their seats. In terms of continental flair players, think more Hatem Ben Arfa and less Diego Gavilan. And that can only be a good thing. It’s what we wanted from Kenedy and what, sadly, we’re still left wanting. Let’s hope then, that Miguel can fill the void.

He certainly looks the type who’ll drive us forward. A strong runner with more than a touch of flair and pace. He’s shown that he has an eye for goal with 22 goals and 19 assists in his last two seasons and so I’d hope that the least we could expect is excitement. If he can chip in with a few goals and assists before the end of the season, then he’ll have settled in nicely. He also, from what I’ve heard and read, seems like someone is isn’t afraid of hard work, which given our league position is again the kind of player that we’ll need. Flair is OK to a point, but in the position we find ourselves in, graft is king; especially in the eyes of Rafa.

Again, from hearsay – the noun, not the manufactured pop group from Pop Idol – I gather that Miguel is very much a positive influence around a club. Certainly from the photos and interviews with former colleagues, he seems quite the contented soul. The football fans in Atlanta, it seems, are nothing but grateful for his contribution over the last two years. And on a very basic level, he smiles a lot. So let’s hope that’s a good indicator of a player! With the Hispanic influence of the likes of Rafa and his staff, Fernandez, Manquillo, Ayoze, Perez, Kenedy, Rondon, Joselu – yes, even Joselu – he has a better chance of settling in quickly and if his roots mean that he can strike up some kind of understanding with our centre forward, then all the better.

‘…for every Rafa, terrifyingly there’s a Marcelino.’

We have a history with players from South America though and so we all know that it’s not always that simple. In terms of influence and positivity, for every Perez there’s a Mirandinha and for every Rafa, terrifyingly there’s a Marcelino. We can only hope that Almiron settles quickly. And in terms of a Mirandinha comparison we can only hope he refrains from kicking goalkeepers up the arse.

Some have questioned Almiron’s size, wondering if he has what it takes to adapt to the sheer physicality of the Premier League. In truth, only time will tell, but if you look at players around now like Aguero, Sane, Sterling, Salah, Fraser and Erikson as well as players from the recent past like Modric and Suarez, then size isn’t everything. You could argue that all of these players are also exceptional footballers, but again with Almiron we don’t yet know.

In terms of the future Almiron could have a huge effect. Could his signing be a signal that the purse strings are being loosened? Well, given the overwhelming evidence of the last 11 years, then you’d say probably not. But given that you’re a Newcastle United fan, you’re the eternal optimist by definition, otherwise you’d have given up the ghost years ago! So let’s hope that his signing leads to more of the same. Could Almiron help bring success? Conceivably, yes. But it’s obvious that he’s going to need help in the form of more signings of at least similar quality if we’re to start battling for trophies. While his signing brings a certain level of optimism, it doesn’t blind you to the fact that January still left Rafa with a great deal less than he’d asked for.

Which brings me to the man himself. Rafa Benitez. A man who has invested so much into both our club and community over the last few years. Although still not enough if your name’s Richard Keys. And if your name is Richard Keys, then pop off back to hanging around the sixth form gates; this blog’s not for you.

‘But this is NUFC and life is never, ever that simple…’

It’s been speculated that Almiron’s signing might well be the gesture that helps persuade Rafa to sign a new contract. And it’s true, there’s a certain poetic kind of logic to that. He desperately wanted the player, so why would he leave mere months into coaching the fellaa? But this is NUFC and life is never, ever that simple or straightforward. It’s a nice dream, but really? Almiron – and I mean this in the most respectful of ways – should be viewed simply as a start and I feel sure that Rafa will think very much the same. I mean, for all the good feeling he brings, we’re still playing with somebody else’s centre forward leading the line and a bloke bought from Stoke’s reserves as back up. So while signing Almiron might make Rafa feel like we’ve got more of a chance, I’m sure it won’t make him sign the first contract that’s stuck under his nose.

Looking at the signing from another ‘future’ angle, I wonder what he might do in terms of the development of players like Sean Longstaff, Mo Sangare, Kelland Watts and the like. Certainly in terms of Longstaff who will at the very least be training with the first team for the foreseeable future, Almiron could be a fantastic influence and totally compliment his style of play. And from a slightly different angle it could be interesting to see how he might link up with the likes of Shelvey.

‘He won’t have missed the league table…’

As ever with Newcastle it’s important to look at the darker side of things though. Almiron comes into a club that in many ways is in turmoil and into a team that is fighting relegation. It’s to be hoped that he settles quickly and begins to exert his influence on the team so that we can start to gain even more positive results. However for any player coming into a fight such as ours there will always be a question mark. That said, I’m sure he’s coming in with his eyes well and truly wide open. He won’t have missed the league table and I’m sure that he’s been informed of the current stand off between fans and owner. It has to be hoped though that his focus is solely on the team and results. He’s certainly going to find that he’s a long way from Atlanta in every sense of the phrase.

One thing is absolutely certain about the signing of Miguel Almiron. Our fans will be behind him from the off. His signing has caused a definite excitement; one that we haven’t had from a signing for a number of years. For me, there’s even a certain parallel between signing Almiron and signing Asprilla. Granted Asprilla was already very much established in the game, but still in terms of how he’d settle and what he’d produce, an unknown quantity. Well Tino definitely produced the goods. Let’s hope Miguel can do the same.

Whatever happens, the signing of Miguel Almiron is a step in the right direction. Whether it’s a baby step or some sort of seismic leap…well we’ll have to wait and see. Whichever way you look at his signing though, it’s going to be an interesting next few months. Same as it ever was then.