To walk away from Newcastle United might be easy…to forget an upbringing certainly won’t
When all else fails and anger bites so hard it hurts…you know it’s time.
Time to pick up the proverbial pen and dig out your soul.
Another car crash scenario hits Sky Sports News…”Toon in turmoil”, with Jim White frothing at the mouth.
To some, it appears the Mike Ashley years have hit a defining moment…but to many fans it’s just another case of muscle flexing by the grudge holding charlatan that masquerades as an owner.
Rafael Benitez exposed our owner even further.
Quite simply by charming ,not just the fans, but also the entire region and beyond.
He bought into us and he got us, everything that the hierarchy avoid.
As a manager, I never bought into some of the over the top hero worship afforded him by many fans, people simply looking for a hero to worship (particularly after what had gone before), someone to give them hope. Hope that was extinguished daily by Mike Ashley and friends.
However, the signing of Almiron giving us a cohesive forward line, Rondon evolving into the best number 9 since Shearer…you just could not help hoping.
But then the party political broadcast on behalf of the Sports Direct Party began to make noises…
Rondon was too old, he didn’t fit the criteria, no one needed here who wants to be here, stepping stones and sell on clauses, that’s all that count. Physical abilities, scoring goals, hold up play, intelligence, all abilities we ‘ll never see again.
So some serious soul searching and tough choices are needed.
For now though I just feel like going back to the good old bad old days, when home or away was about getting high on being 14 and all aboard the football specials, silk scarf round your wrist and Imre Varadi missing another sitter.
When £6 felt like it could get you anywhere in the country and just feeling like you belonged.
Fast forward then to getting drunk, forgetting school/Y.T.S. schemes/work…you name it.
Days of your life, the world knew our name, then fast forward to this…
A waking nightmare.
Where matchday relationships have disintegrated under the toxic cloud, where ‘belonging’ now feels like imprisonment.
To walk away might be easy…to forget an upbringing certainly won’t.
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