PATRICK COLLINS: How long before the Newcastle clowns get their own show on YouTube? (original) (raw)

Kevin Keegan departs with his reputation refreshed and his pockets jangling. The fumbling inadequates who administer a fine old club scuttle away with fresh choruses of derision assailing their ears.

And the sporting nation looks on in headshaking wonder.

When they come to write the modern history of Newcastle United, the saga of Ignacio Gonzalez and the Great YouTube Transfer, will merit no more than a whimsical footnote: ‘Dennis Wise, the Director of Football, acquired a player he had never
seen, except on a blurry YouTube video clip. The manager registered his strenuous objections but was overruled. The player, Gonzalez, was paid almost £1million in wages.

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A nose for business - and football: Kevin Keegan

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'He played precisely 38 minutes of first-team football. It was explained that the deal was done as “a favour” to two influential South American agents.’

Now, the trio who comprised the Premier League Arbitration Tribunal are not unworldly men. Philip Havers QC, Lord Pannick QC and Kenneth Merrett, Manchester United’s long-serving assistant secretary, could tell any number of strange tales. Yet it is easy to imagine their eyebrows rising at this eccentric method of running a Premier League club.

Equally, they may have been a touch surprised by the attitude of Newcastle’s owner, Mike Ashley. Sources say that he sometimes struggled to take the tribunal proceedings seriously. He made small jokes, laughed immoderately and, on
occasion, wore jeans. Nothing wrong with that if you are anxious to be seen as a man of the people.

But if you are seeking to impress the likes of Baron Pannick of Radlett in the County of Hertfordshire and the Hon Philip Havers (Eton, Cambridge, Garrick Club), then jeans might seem a misguided indulgence.

Rather more serious was the culture over which Ashley presided. It was a lads’ culture, with scant respect for fripperies like custom, or tradition, or truth. Thus, the repeated assertions that Keegan would have the final say on the recruitment of players, later shown to be baseless.

The tribunal addresses this with savage economy.

Hardly a jeans-ius: Newcastle United owner Mike Ashley

‘The club’s explanation for these statements which, on their case, were simply untrue, was that they were nothing more than an exercise in public relations,’ they say. And they conclude: ‘We found this explanation to be profoundly unsatisfactory.’

There may be a temptation to treat these matters as purely technical, the kind of power struggle which is played out every day in the commercial world, where rules are negotiable and lies are recast as ‘public relations’.

But that temptation should be resisted. This club, this historically important club with roots sunk deep in the community, finds itself passed on from one bunch of chancers to the next. This is the club of Hughie Gallacher, Joe Harvey, Jackie Milburn and Bobby Robson.

Good on the small screen: But on the big pitch Ignacio Gonzalez proved less good

Sure, success is a distant stranger and genuine optimism died with the pits, but it is a
North Eastern institution and it deserves better.

The likes of Freddy Shepherd and the Halls simply grabbed the money and ran. For his part, Ashley has spent the money and is desperate to run, if only a deal can be struck.

Various purchasers hover; some deluded, a few deranged. The Premier League, whose definition of ‘fit and proper’ owners is endlessly elastic, seem delighted to have the problem off their hands.

The Football League watch the contortions of Ashley and his lackeys and shake their heads, impotently. One observer of the tribunal offers a bleak summation. ‘That place is in chaos,’ he said. ‘Nobody has the first idea of how to run a football club. But
they were arrogant and they tried to blacken the names of the people who actually knew what they were doing.’

Keegan — awkward, cussed, uncompromising — was the principal target. Stories were planted of his demands for stellar signings. One tale had him reeling off a list which included Beckham, Ronaldinho, Henry, Lampard, Woodgate and Sami Hyypia at a cost of some £200m.

The impression given was that he wanted to buy the lot. In fact, had they signed only the commanding Hyypia, then relegation may well have been avoided.

But they did not sign Hyypia. Instead, they casually betrayed an honest manager and bought Ignacio Gonzalez off YouTube, as a ‘favour’. And now they stumble from crisis
to abject crisis, hoping with Micawber that something will turn up, praying that a few robust results might deliver them a buyer, cursing the day when they turned to the Tyne.

Meanwhile, the derision grows louder. But the clowns are in charge of the circus. And they do not hear.

Come off it Carlos, you'll give insincerity a bad name

CARLOS TEVEZ declined to celebrate the two goals he scored for Manchester City
against West Ham the other evening. Instead, he gave the fans of his former club a
small wave of apology. Soft hearts that they are, they responded with grateful
applause.

And a soft-focus, lip-trembling, stomach-turning saga unfolded. The West Ham manager, Gianfranco Zola, called him ‘a gentleman’. The back page headlines went into drool mode while the phone-ins were besieged by forelocktugging Cockneys from
Central Casting: ‘Gawd bless you, Carlos. You’re a regular gent and no mistake.’

Respect? Carlos Tevez knows how to play a crowd

Whereupon Tevez started to say things like: ‘In my heart, part of me will always be a
Hammer . . . I hope I’ve not damaged them too much now.’

It was the kind of drivel that gets insincerity a bad name. Because the facts are simple. Tevez left West Ham when his ‘advisers’ decided he could make a great deal more money with Manchester United. And he left Old Trafford when Sir Alex Ferguson refused to pay the staggering price which those same ‘advisers’ were demanding.

The player is perfectly entitled to take those career decisions. He is not, however,
entitled to take the rest of us for fools. In fairness, Tevez may have done the game
some service by drawing attention to the whole business of the goal celebration, that choreographed caper which always evokes the image of a toddler misbehaving at a
birthday party.

It is the excessive rehearsal which kills spontaneity, the knowledge that players who might have been learning how to kick with both feet have instead been practising dance steps. A personal cringe is that twee little ‘cradling’ routine which is meant to signify proud fatherhood.

Of course, we expect players to be pleased when they score but their practised posturing is merely demeaning. Tevez himself gave the game away when he said: ‘In the derby against United I had also decided not to celebrate our goals but, after the bad treatment I received from the supporters that day, I have changed my stance on
that. If I score in the next derby then I am sure I will celebrate.’

Imagine that. The coy charade has become so absurdly important that he is taking a ‘stance’. And so he has opted for ostentatious celebration as a means of chastising the United fans.

It is a manouevre stolen straight from the Emmanuel Adebayor playbook; equally dim, equally juvenile. A ‘gentleman’ ought to knowbetter.

Pompey should be glad for such good friends

AS the Good Ship Pompey steams ever closer to the rocks, a tale to touch the hardest heart. Money is owed to players, to executives, to the Revenue. Sad, but we can live with it.

However, money is also owed to at least two agents — thought to be Pini Zahavi and Jonathan Barnett — for taking Sulley Muntari, Peter Crouch and Jermain Defoe to Fratton Park. The amount is estimated at £3million.

You may think their commission is a little on the high side but when I tell you it involved several telephone calls, the odd letter and possibly a trip to the South Coast, then you will agree it was money well earned.

Mercifully, they are reasonable men. As the Portsmouth chief executive, Peter Storrie, admits, they have been ‘incredibly helpful’. He adds: ‘It is only through my friendship with them that they are not banging on the door.’

Loyal, sensitive, generous. Just what we should have expected. No matter how it all ends, we must hope and pray that Pini and Jonathan will get precisely whatthey deserve.

PS...

PRESIDENT Barack Obama is suffering some sneering criticism for failing to deliver the 2016 Olympics to his home city.

Yet, even in defeat, the man retains an incomparable talent for the riveting phrase. He told the IOC that the Games would find a good home in Chicago because: ‘We look like the world.’

It is a slogan we ought to steal because our own capital looks just like the world. Indeed, it is possibly its greatest glory. And it is one of the major reasons why London 2012 will confound its own gang of sneering critics and set a soaringstandard for all future Olympics.