For those who just don't understand....

Profoundly unsatisfactory: Newcastle United’s vapid, hollow-eyed performance in the Tyne-Wear derby. Profoundly unsatisfactory: selling Yohan Cabaye, without question their most accomplished player, and failing to replace him. Profoundly unsatisfactory: successive transfer windows without a single permanent signing. Profoundly unsatisfactory: two words which could sit beneath the club crest.

“Profoundly unsatisfactory”: a phrase employed by a Premier League tribunal in October 2009, which found in favour of Kevin Keegan’s claim for constructive dismissal against Mike Ashley’s Newcastle and which now, five years later, is in their DNA. Defeat to Sunderland can cloud the eyes, befuddle the brain and inflame emotion, but not this time. More than anything else, it felt like another quiet, lonely death.

“The cathedral on this hill” was how Sir Bobby Robson used to refer to St James’ Park, perched on Gallowgate’s elevation, visible from most approaches to the city, but that was before the bulldozers moved in and a cavernous warehouse was erected in its place. Newcastle did not participate in a game on Saturday, not really. They were a 90-minute advertisement for Sports Direct and Wonga. They are a works’ team, with better perks.

The extraordinary thing is that Newcastle remain eighth in the Barclays Premier League and players and staff are fulfilling their brief. They are on course for a bonus. There have been worse moments in their history, not least the toxic season which followed Keegan’s departure, and episodes when they have danced towards oblivion or irrelevance, but have they ever been this transparent? Have they ever felt this empty?

Eighth and on target, but out of both domestic cups which, more and more, feels like betrayal of history (“Our primary aim and focus has to be the Premier League,” is the official, joyless mantra). Eighth, but rejecting the chance to reinvest, regroup and, with a bit of luck, kick on. Eighth, but three-time losers to their local rivals. Eighth and apparently content with that. Eighth and leading the race for eighth. Eighth and pointless.

Communication with supporters is measly, bombastic, deflating or contradictory. Joe Kinnear, the director of football, says “judge me on my signings,” and then makes none. Directors to a fans’ forum in September: “the club confirmed that money was available.” Alan Pardew: “you can’t lose a player of (Cabaye’s) quality and not replace him.” Pardew at the weekend: “I didn’t particularly say in this window, though.”

Whether or not Newcastle refurbish their squad this summer (there is no evidence they are capable of it), an opportunity has been forsaken and there is no guarantee that results, fortune or circumstances will fall for them next time. Momentum is everything, as Sunderland have shown, and Pardew has lost his biggest player and personality, not that it excuses the paucity they mustered against Gustavo Poyet’s team.

Sunderland fans might dispute the tone of this. If you want desperation, try two relegations with record-low point tallies. Try Paolo Di Canio and taking root at the foot of the table for half a season. They would have a case, but Newcastle’s recent narrative is of a soul’s slow corrosion, peppered with some surges and decent football. Cups? Not a priority. The Europa League? No, no, no, no, not at any cost. A hole, which a club once filled.

On Wearside, mistakes are legion and perhaps there will be more, but errors have been corrected with a stunning brutality. Di Canio was dismissed 13 games into a two-and-a-half year contract. Roberto De Fanti, Kinnear’s equivalent, lasted a few months. At Newcastle, Kinnear is associated indelibly with relegation, but is given another job and greater responsibility. He is still there, when nothing suggests he is qualified for it.

There was no affection in this space for Ashley’s predecessors and there is no mourning for them now. The money they spent was not theirs, their stewardship made wealthy men wealthier and an institutionalised arrogance brought interference and vanity signings ahead of growth and improvement. Their departure was overdue, but there is one area of empathy; when they made an appointment, I don’t dispute that it was with a view to winning something.

Some came close, although a majority were a queasy fit and Newcastle’s quicksand foundations and financial overreaching were deep flaws and fissures. Partially through his own missteps, Ashley has offered some correction and there was a worth to Derek Llambias seeking “stability” through self-sufficiency, a strict transfer model and long-term contracts, although the byproduct was often hateful (Sports Direct Arena, Wonga).

One argument – and it is a powerful one – is that any notion of stability was blown away from the second that Kinnear blundered into Newcastle saying that all criticism of him was “water off a duck’s arse,” and promising “I’ve got my finger in the pie halfway around the world.” Another is that this is where stability gets you. Eighth, with Ashley knowing that he can do what he wants, pretty much, and people will still turn up.

If you care for Newcastle, Sunderland was unacceptable; for a fixture which carries a clout far beyond the rational, there was no sense of a team. Just 11 untethered men. In isolation, there was “a criminal lack of commitment and talent,” as nufc.com put it, which reflects poorly on Pardew, but the wider picture is of “an overwhelming sense of gloom across Tyneside following the sale of Yohan Cabaye and completely predictable failure to sign a replacement.”

A month or so earlier, Newcastle lost 2-1 at home to Cardiff City in the FA Cup and for the entirety of the day – before, during and after – they felt like a beaten club. There were 31,000 supporters inside the stadium (smaller crowds were widespread, admittedly) and apathy was entrenched. The league had won, Sky had won, Ashley had won, just get it over with and move on. That experience was profoundly unsatisfactory, too.

Ashley has staunched his losses, but his Newcastle is without direction, where relationships are risibly brittle and where nobody will take him on. Where the chief scout scouts players the director of football does not buy and where the manager makes do, unable or unwilling to criticise, the only public face of a dysfunctional business. Where they can all point to the table and claim they are doing their jobs. A profoundly unsatisfactory eighth.

It is one of those dilemmas that shovels lead in the pit of supporters’ stomachs, because Newcastle may be a difficult club to love, but they are even more difficult to forsake. And, when it comes down to it, they should not have to do. When Keegan arrived for his first spell as manager, the first thing he did was fumigate the dressing-rooms. They need another Keegan. They need a fumigator.

Yohan Modric wrote:8th is a decent position for Newcastle. If they're in the relegation zone, that's when they should start worrying.

Yohan Modric wrote:8th is a decent position for Newcastle. If they're in the relegation zone, that's when they should start worrying.

The_Badger wrote:

Yohan Modric wrote:8th is a decent position for Newcastle. If they're in the relegation zone, that's when they should start worrying.

The problem with the Geordies is they think they are bigger and better than they are. Always have.

It wasn't that long ago they were proclaiming to be the 8th biggest club in the world.

Great Leader Sprucenuce wrote:

Profoundly unsatisfactory: Newcastle United’s vapid, hollow-eyed performance in the Tyne-Wear derby. Profoundly unsatisfactory: selling Yohan Cabaye, without question their most accomplished player, and failing to replace him. Profoundly unsatisfactory: successive transfer windows without a single permanent signing. Profoundly unsatisfactory: two words which could sit beneath the club crest.

“Profoundly unsatisfactory”: a phrase employed by a Premier League tribunal in October 2009, which found in favour of Kevin Keegan’s claim for constructive dismissal against Mike Ashley’s Newcastle and which now, five years later, is in their DNA. Defeat to Sunderland can cloud the eyes, befuddle the brain and inflame emotion, but not this time. More than anything else, it felt like another quiet, lonely death.

“The cathedral on this hill” was how Sir Bobby Robson used to refer to St James’ Park, perched on Gallowgate’s elevation, visible from most approaches to the city, but that was before the bulldozers moved in and a cavernous warehouse was erected in its place. Newcastle did not participate in a game on Saturday, not really. They were a 90-minute advertisement for Sports Direct and Wonga. They are a works’ team, with better perks.

The extraordinary thing is that Newcastle remain eighth in the Barclays Premier League and players and staff are fulfilling their brief. They are on course for a bonus. There have been worse moments in their history, not least the toxic season which followed Keegan’s departure, and episodes when they have danced towards oblivion or irrelevance, but have they ever been this transparent? Have they ever felt this empty?

Eighth and on target, but out of both domestic cups which, more and more, feels like betrayal of history (“Our primary aim and focus has to be the Premier League,” is the official, joyless mantra). Eighth, but rejecting the chance to reinvest, regroup and, with a bit of luck, kick on. Eighth, but three-time losers to their local rivals. Eighth and apparently content with that. Eighth and leading the race for eighth. Eighth and pointless.

Communication with supporters is measly, bombastic, deflating or contradictory. Joe Kinnear, the director of football, says “judge me on my signings,” and then makes none. Directors to a fans’ forum in September: “the club confirmed that money was available.” Alan Pardew: “you can’t lose a player of (Cabaye’s) quality and not replace him.” Pardew at the weekend: “I didn’t particularly say in this window, though.”

Whether or not Newcastle refurbish their squad this summer (there is no evidence they are capable of it), an opportunity has been forsaken and there is no guarantee that results, fortune or circumstances will fall for them next time. Momentum is everything, as Sunderland have shown, and Pardew has lost his biggest player and personality, not that it excuses the paucity they mustered against Gustavo Poyet’s team.

Sunderland fans might dispute the tone of this. If you want desperation, try two relegations with record-low point tallies. Try Paolo Di Canio and taking root at the foot of the table for half a season. They would have a case, but Newcastle’s recent narrative is of a soul’s slow corrosion, peppered with some surges and decent football. Cups? Not a priority. The Europa League? No, no, no, no, not at any cost. A hole, which a club once filled.

On Wearside, mistakes are legion and perhaps there will be more, but errors have been corrected with a stunning brutality. Di Canio was dismissed 13 games into a two-and-a-half year contract. Roberto De Fanti, Kinnear’s equivalent, lasted a few months. At Newcastle, Kinnear is associated indelibly with relegation, but is given another job and greater responsibility. He is still there, when nothing suggests he is qualified for it.

There was no affection in this space for Ashley’s predecessors and there is no mourning for them now. The money they spent was not theirs, their stewardship made wealthy men wealthier and an institutionalised arrogance brought interference and vanity signings ahead of growth and improvement. Their departure was overdue, but there is one area of empathy; when they made an appointment, I don’t dispute that it was with a view to winning something.

Some came close, although a majority were a queasy fit and Newcastle’s quicksand foundations and financial overreaching were deep flaws and fissures. Partially through his own missteps, Ashley has offered some correction and there was a worth to Derek Llambias seeking “stability” through self-sufficiency, a strict transfer model and long-term contracts, although the byproduct was often hateful (Sports Direct Arena, Wonga).

One argument – and it is a powerful one – is that any notion of stability was blown away from the second that Kinnear blundered into Newcastle saying that all criticism of him was “water off a duck’s arse,” and promising “I’ve got my finger in the pie halfway around the world.” Another is that this is where stability gets you. Eighth, with Ashley knowing that he can do what he wants, pretty much, and people will still turn up.

If you care for Newcastle, Sunderland was unacceptable; for a fixture which carries a clout far beyond the rational, there was no sense of a team. Just 11 untethered men. In isolation, there was “a criminal lack of commitment and talent,” as nufc.com put it, which reflects poorly on Pardew, but the wider picture is of “an overwhelming sense of gloom across Tyneside following the sale of Yohan Cabaye and completely predictable failure to sign a replacement.”

A month or so earlier, Newcastle lost 2-1 at home to Cardiff City in the FA Cup and for the entirety of the day – before, during and after – they felt like a beaten club. There were 31,000 supporters inside the stadium (smaller crowds were widespread, admittedly) and apathy was entrenched. The league had won, Sky had won, Ashley had won, just get it over with and move on. That experience was profoundly unsatisfactory, too.

Ashley has staunched his losses, but his Newcastle is without direction, where relationships are risibly brittle and where nobody will take him on. Where the chief scout scouts players the director of football does not buy and where the manager makes do, unable or unwilling to criticise, the only public face of a dysfunctional business. Where they can all point to the table and claim they are doing their jobs. A profoundly unsatisfactory eighth.

It is one of those dilemmas that shovels lead in the pit of supporters’ stomachs, because Newcastle may be a difficult club to love, but they are even more difficult to forsake. And, when it comes down to it, they should not have to do. When Keegan arrived for his first spell as manager, the first thing he did was fumigate the dressing-rooms. They need another Keegan. They need a fumigator.

Credit to George Caulkin from the Times for the piece.