George Caulkin another good stuff
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the game blog
It is broken. Not frayed, but broken. Not hanging by a thread, but broken. Not fractured, but broken. The relationship between Alan Pardew and the supporters of Newcastle United can no longer be framed in terms of tension or discontent, grumbling or unease because, on the face of it, there is no longer a relationship to frame. There is a fissure at the heart of the football club which can neither be ignored or repaired.
There is a point in the cycle when the conversation stops being about whether a manager can turn things around, whether he is motivating his players, whether he is good enough, bold enough or suited to the rhythm of his workplace and it starts being about timing. Amid the banners and slogans of fans who had travelled to Southampton on Saturday, the 4-0 defeat, the calls for dismissal, the mockery and derision, the sight of a coach, John Carver, rounding on fans, that point was crossed.
There is nothing knee-jerk about Newcastle’s predicament. It is not a response to four league matches without victory, nor the team’s position at the foot of the Barclays Premier League. This is not because Pardew was born in London or because his club’s followers are a restless, seething mass of deluded sheet-daubers, although you could be forgiven for thinking that; it is a dull, old complaint, but fans remain the subject of witless stereotyping. This is about history. It is also about facts.
Back in May, Newcastle won a match against Cardiff City 3-0, although victory proved a relative concept. The unrest began in the third minute, with a chant directed at Mike Ashley, the owner. There were two organised walkouts, in the 60th and 69th minutes, accompanied by chants of “We want Pardew out” and “Alan Pardew, it’s never you fault.” Pardew, who had recently been banished from the touchline, was beaten back again by a surge of vitriol.
At any other stage of the season, his position would have been intolerable; episodes such as that are rare, but they linger in the memory and trust, faith and understanding had been forsaken. What worked in Pardew’s favour was the full stop provided by the end of the season, an opportunity to turn a page and begin afresh. Nine players were signed in the summer. Pardew spoke about the “new Newcastle United.”
But, the context for the Southampton result is deep. Over the course of 2014, Newcastle have won five games in the league; stack up the numbers and it is relegation form. In nine of those 23 matches, 15 of which have been lost, they have conceded three goals or more, while their biggest victory, 4-1 at Hull City, came with Pardew earning an official warning, a fine of £100,000 and a long suspension from the touchline over his boorish altercation with David Meyler.
The 53-year-old is the second longest-serving manager in the division, but only once has Pardew led Newcastle beyond the third round of the FA Cup, while his record in the Capital One Cup is little better. He has presided over three consecutive defeats to Sunderland, the club’s local rivals, a dubious achievement last achieved in 1924. There are a welter of other statistics, but there is also the evidence of the eyes.
Impatience does not taint that evidence. There is a great lie about Newcastle supporters - Sunderland, too - and it centres on the word “expectation”. It implies grandeur, ideas above their station, a stubborn refusal to accept reality. There is nothing wrong with pushing for improvement - if you finish sixth one year, why not hope for fifth the next? - and if you have a crowd of 52,000 where is the crime in ambition, but “expectation” has become a handy excuse for failed managers.
It is also rubbish. When Newcastle stir, it is worth listening, simply because it happens so infrequently. If Newcastle fans express concern at their manager, then you pay attention because loyalty clings to them like guilt. There have been spasms of anger, but there was no revolution when Ashley’s decisions propelled the club towards relegation, when the name of the stadium was changed, when Joe Kinnear came and went. If there is fury now, it means something.
It means something because the reality of Newcastle is not ferment or turmoil. It is the opposite. If they have been threatened with anything, it is by the stealth of apathy, an acceptance of their lot, an existence made up of “priorities”, by the dash for ninth, where the Europa League is an inconvenience. Where a sporting institution straining for glory has been replaced by a works’ team which plods on for the sake of it, recycling money.
It is no longer mitigation to say that Pardew is a decent manager; if he is, he is not showing it. It is no longer mitigation to say that Newcastle finished fifth in 2012; they did, but so what? It is no longer mitigation to say the devil you know is better than the one you don’t; little (more Kinnear apart) could be less rewarding than this. And, it is no longer mitigation to say that Ashley is the problem; he may be, but for the next two years, he is staying put.
When the Pardew era is judged, the structure of the club will be a contributing factor. Good managers challenge; they challenge players to improve and challenge owners to invest, but Ashley does not want to be challenged. The delineation of duties between manager and Graham Carr, the influential chief scout, has never been precise enough, while their transfer policy can simultaneously be worthy, uncompromising and flawed.
It is not Pardew’s fault that Kinnear was a risible appointment as director of football, that two windows opened and shut without Newcastle making a permanent signing. It was not his doing that Yohan Cabaye was sold in January, robbing his team of its creative fulcrum. It is not down to him that a frontline replacement for Loïc Rémy was not found. If Rémy Cabella has not yet settled and Siem de Jong is injured, can he be held accountable?
Yet Pardew fell out with Hatem Ben Arfa and dispatched him to Hull City on-loan; the France international, prickly but popular, was deemed an asset, explanations were not given and the propaganda battle lost. Because Pardew is the only public face at Newcastle, each word he utters is poured over and picked apart and even if his tone is reasonable, it is the other stuff that grasps the attention. He is tarnished by association.
In the final analysis, results have been so miserable that sympathy has leeched away; the matters Pardew cannot control are now overshadowed by results, his core responsibility. Those results could turn, but Cardiff and Southampton have illustrated that pressing the reset button will not do much and if it means the manager being stricken in his dugout or his assistant breaking off from a warm-up session to remonstrate with supporters, then something has been lost.
The decision, when it comes, will be Ashley’s and, having banned journalists who wrote last week that Pardew had two games to save his job, the only indication is reassuring for the manager, but the worth of that may be limited; gambling is second-nature to the owner, but he will not risk another relegation. That is the bottom line and Ashley cares most about the bottom line, but the cry from the stands is now loud and constant: it is time for change.
