Newcastle fans are misery-seekers, not glory-hunters
George Caulkin
It was some time during the late 1990s - a decade which featured the Light Brigade beauty of Kevin Keegan’s title challenge and two losing FA Cup finals - that some Newcastle United supporters of my acquaintance reached a conclusion which altered the tone of their day- to-day existence: they would win nothing during their lifetimes. All the available scientific evidence, all the heartache, offered sustenance to their argument.
At a stroke, weight was lifted from their shoulders. Tension slipped away. It was a eureka moment, a discovery which allowed football to be football again. Sometimes there is a point to embracing the unembraceable and, in this instance, there was a logic to it. If you take as your starting point that a football club will never lift a trophy then ... well, you can never truly be disappointed, can you?
Not winning something is now as much ingrained in the Newcastle psyche as the Cup-heroics of the 1950s, Jackie Milburn, black and white stripes and Alan Shearer. It is part of who they are, part of the celebration and, to digress a little, it is also why criticism of their fans for being impatient or demanding is so witless and inaccurate. Glory-hunters? Through no fault of their own, those who follow Newcastle are misery-seekers.
Those friends of mine, while accepting that any quest for silverware was doomed at the outset, had different expectations. They wanted to belong, to feel pride in their city, sing themselves hoarse and enjoy a few drinks. And if the impossible was to happen and Newcastle won a cup, they would happily have torn up their pie charts, pointed to the margin of error in any statistical undertaking and reveled in it.
You may have noticed the use of the past tense. One of those friends has had enough. Midway through last season - post Joe Kinnear and pre Shearer - he stopped going to the match. He’d been a season-ticket holder since school (more than 20 years), but now has a young family to look after. The equation was a complex one - it cost too much money and too much embarrassment - but, purely and simply, he could not do it any more.
Within his circle, the decision caused arguments and distress; give up Newcastle and you give up your essence. But then, a few weeks ago, another one dropped out. He would not be renewing his seat. Because, fundamentally, the conclusion they reached ten years ago has changed.
Following Newcastle now means an acceptance that of all the possible scenarios, the least edifying and most unpleasant will happen. That pain, the loss of faith during the last few seasons, had become too much to bear.
In the long-term, it is not a life-affirming ethos. Perhaps not all supporters accept it and the fact that more than 25,000 people have bought season tickets this summer points to a remarkable level of tolerance, but, in the short-term, it is probably sensible. This has been a summer of limbo, of rot, of waiting, of stasis, and the final outcome may well herald further disillusion.
I spoke to the director of another football club the other day. As usual, the conversation eventually turned to recent events at St James’ Park (it is not only the media who are obsessed with Newcastle). He had met Mike Ashley a few times and actually liked him, although he was less complimentary about his acolytes. “From what I've seen, I think he's a decent bloke. I just wish that one day he would wake up and make a go of things up there,” he said.
Surely it is too late now. Ashley has been incapable of stringing two good decisions together and the outcome has been utterly destructive.
He arrived preaching the long-term and then sacked Sam Allardyce. He tapped into Newcastle’s emotions by appointing Kevin Keegan and then tied his hands together. He recognised the need to have a football department, but chose Dennis Wise to lead it.
He accepted reality last autumn and decided to sell the club. But Joe Kinnear as an interim manager? He took the club off the market, promised to communicate more with supporters and then did nothing of the sort. He vowed to run a dangerously spendthrift club on a sound financial footing, but made a profit in the transfer market when the team was in dire need of strengthening.
Finally, he brought in Shearer, who could do little to prevent Newcastle’s slide into the Coca Cola Championship, but restored discipline to the training-ground, provided a link with fans and reviewed of all playing matters at the club. Ashley admitted his mistakes and said that hiring Shearer was his “best decision”. He then ignored him, putting out the for sale signs, not wishing to leave new owners in the same position he inherited. It has been a compendium of disaster.
The result, three months down the line, is that Newcastle still have no manager and have bought no new players. The season is now underway.
With the transfer market closing at the end of this month, there is only a tiny window of opportunity for Barry Moat or any other potential bidder for the club to influence matters at the club. Once that opportunity disappears, there is no incentive to push through a purchase.
Those friends who still intend to troop up to Newcastle’s ground every other weekend - and who will be there against Reading on Saturday - have already accepted that Ashley will own the club for at least another year. They believe that David O’Leary will be appointed manager (and, make no mistake, this is what Ashley intends to do should Moat not find the money). They hate the idea, but what can you do?
For now, they will put up with it, but discussions about what being a Newcastle fans entails are now commonplace. It feels unsustainable.
The performance of the team during the 1-1 draw at West Bromwich Albion offered some hope and perhaps, perhaps, perhaps, something positive may happen in the next few days. But nobody is betting on it.
This is Ashley’s Newcastle. Things can always get worse.
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Tynesiders have been too forgiving so far with Mr. Ashley. I wonder what would have happened if this was my hometown Kolkata. I can surely say - all his Sports Direct outlets would have been mobbed, shut down - no one would work in those outlets, and he probably would never dare to step in the city. Actually, this is exactly what he deserves.
Come on Mr. Ashley - do us (and yourself) a favour and leave.
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