It’s been three weeks. And we love a good messiah at Newcastle. Keegan and Shearer are just two examples. Three weeks to summon the energy, nay the will, to put down in words how I feel about the return of Joe Kinnear — nobody’s messiah.
Recently I ran into an old friend at a wedding; a Liverpool fan. He could tell I didn’t want to talk football. The temptation proved too powerful. So, he asked me to sum up Joe Kinnear’s return in one word. Joe Kinnear himself can’t sum up anything in a word. You could power a small African village for a month with the hot air released from one of his filth ridden, egotistical and dangerously delusional diatribes.
My one word? Shambolic.
If there was any doubt left whatsoever regarding Mike Ashley’s contempt for the Geordie faithful, it’s been put to rest now. Kinnear doesn’t rate the fans too highly either. A few years of stability and the Magpies are right back to their default status of national laughing stock.
The thought of quoting this gibbering maniac fills my heart with deep, murky despair. So, with your understanding, I’ll get on with the business of refuting (some of) his delusions and lies in a paragraph.
Hey Joe. Let’s begin.
You didn’t sign Tim Krul. You were not at Newcastle for two years. You did not do a good job at Newcastle (4 wins out of 25). We were not definitely going to avoid relegation if you stayed healthy (3 points from the drop zone). Yohan Kebab. Ben Afri. Anamobi. Those are not their names. On the day you cursed 54 times in 2 minutes at all those journalists, we had not just beaten Spurs 2-1. No Joe, You are not head and shoulders above all other Director’s of Football. You did not win manager of the year three times. No Joe, you don’t have Arsene Wenger on speed dial. Yes Joe, you were in fact sacked. Managing Luton does not register as an achievement. You did not play for Spurs 400 times. Spurs were not then nor are now “the best team in the world.” Alan Pardew may have been happy to have “a real football man” on board, but that man is certainly not you.
Hey Joe, you’re here because you’re the owner’s mate. That’s it. The only reason. You’re his mate. He hates us, we hate you. That’s how the puzzle fits together. There are no credentials. There is no CV. There is is, in fact, “a record that speaks for itself” though not in the way you imagine. So buckle up Joe. Get ready to have St James Park chanting against you every second week for the whole of the forthcoming season. A sensible man with a heart condition might decide that’s not the best place to be. Alas, Joe Kinnear is only one of those things.