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If you take out my John Carver references absolutely nothing has changed in these four long years at Newcastle United

2 years ago
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Each month, when it comes to my turn to write an article related to Newcastle United, I spend a day thinking about just what I can write about that hasn’t been covered by others.

But this month I’m struggling.  What on earth can I say that hasn’t been said by others about this soap opera? So I’m not going to bother even trying.

I’m going to rehash a piece I had published on here in January 2015 after a miserable FA Cup exit at Leicester  .

Why?

Well for one, you probably won’t have read it back then and even if you did, you certainly won’t remember it. It’s hardly a work of Shakespeare.

But more importantly, if you remove the references to the likes of John Carver, I could be writing this  today, because absolutely nothing has changed in those four long years.  Which is a damning indictment.

Judge for yourself….

‘Back in the seventies/eighties there was a band called Talking Heads, whose biggest hit included the words ‘This is not my beautiful home , this is not my beautiful wife. How did I get here?’

Well, to paraphrase the mad bloke in the enormous suit, “This isn’t my beautiful club, these aren’t my beautiful fans. How the f…. did we get here?’

If the goings on at the club weren’t depressing enough, we now have a severe falling out amongst ourselves regarding the way we should be reacting to the situation.

We all fall into one of three categories.

  1. season ticket holder
  2. ex season ticket holder but attending games on a match by match basis
  3. Not going back until the illegitimate brother of Kim Jong-Un finally decides to leave the City.

It’s your call. No one else can tell you what is the right thing to do.

Personally, I fall into Category B, however, as I joined in with the dogs abuse being hurled towards Carver at the end of the Leicester game, yet again,  I found myself questioning my actions.

Why did I do a 6 hour round trip to watch this tripe.

The trouble is, it’s the whole day out. Four lads in a car reminiscing about past away games for  hours on end, followed by three pints in less than an hour before the game.

It’s what football always used to be about and always will be about.

It’s just a pity about the sh… 90 minutes that followed it. Then again, if you are of a certain age, that’s what we were brought up on, so it really shouldn’t come as a surprise.

For the lads screaming for revolution, you have your work cut out, because revolution needs angry young men.  Back in 88, while the rest of the country seemed to be having a ball under Thatcher’s government (typified by Harry Enfield’s “loads of money” character) that certainly wasn’t how it felt to us up here.

Our region was full of anger. The atmosphere at the ground was toxic, and often spilled over into violence. We were ripe for change and John Hall tapped into the mood perfectly in order to achieve his goal of ousting McKeag.

But in 2015, those Angry young men are long gone. We have turned into family men, paranoid about our hair falling out, diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes and suffering from erectile dysfunction.  Aren’t we lads?

Oh, I guess it’s just me then.

So the revolution has to be in the hands of the next generation.  My lot have seen it, done it, got the t-shirt and are now at a time of their life where priorities have changed as much as the game itself. Football is a multi billion pound business. It’s not for me and you; it’s for billionaires to play with.

So the big worry is that whoever we get really won’t matter, they are all the same…’Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.’

In my opinion, the people you need to force boycotts, protests and change need to eat sleep and breathe Newcastle United, just like we did 25 years ago. But my impression is that the new generation of fans simply have more going on in their life than just a football club that doesn’t give a damn about them. Newcastle United is no longer the centre of the universe for many people.

I accept that this is obviously a generalisation, because there are still many who love this club, but there are also many who just don’t have that naïve (stupid) devotion of their parents.

How many hits does an article on this site get?  No idea but shall we say 2000?

How many people are galvanised and passionate enough to regularly post comments screaming for boycotts and protests? Shall we say 20?.

That is 1% of the readership.

To the 1%, I get it. I really do, but all I will say to you lads is, we all want the same thing, a club to be proud of, with a team to match.  But remember that the classic tactic of tyrants is to divide and rule.

Surely fellow fans are not the reason for our problems?

Besides, remember that one day very soon you will be the baldy diabetic sitting in the Gallowgate and time changes perspectives.

It seems like yesterday, when a cracking night out was to  be sat in the club for six thirty, watch the turn, have fish and chips on the way home before sitting down to watch Michaela Strachan in ‘The Hit man and Her’ on TV.

These days, my club has closed down and the fish and chip shop is now an Indian takeaway. I still like to watch Michaela Strachan though.

She’s very good in springwatch.’
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