For those that have missed it here's a quote from one of the newspapers
Daily Mirror
Newcastle fans should have been feeling quietly smug and optimistic this week.
Andy Carroll moved to West Ham for £15million reminding them of the £20m they mugged Liverpool for, plus some of the decent players that cash bought due to the astute scouting of Graham Carr.
Captain Fabricio Coloccini announced he was staying and the fixture list handed them four winnable ties against Fulham, West Ham, Aston Villa and Hull in their first five games.
But instead, that Joe Kinnear bomb was dropped on them, and in the words of Alan Shearer, the club resumed its laughing stock status and the fans felt like throwing up.
“Why?” was the question on the lips of everyone outside Mike Ashley (and Mackems whose lips are unable to form words just laughter).
Why would you rip apart the structure of a club, which a year ago sat one place outside the top four, by recruiting a divisive throwback like Kinnear?
Especially when his only job in the past nine years was a four-month stint as Newcastle manager where he had a 22 per cent win ratio? There is no need to elaborate on why his appointment has ‘disaster’ written all over it, because the man who makes Mike Bassett look more modern than Pep Guardiola does so every time he opens his mouth.
As for making him director of football? That’s a gag waiting for a punchline that would be best delivered if Kinnear was asked a month ago for his take on this ‘new-fangled’ role.
Not that I feel much sympathy for Alan Pardew. He knew what he was getting into when Ashley sacked Chris Hughton for having the audacity to get Newcastle promoted and stabilised on a shoe-string.
Pardew is also the beneficiary of Ashley’s ego-driven urge to drive a truck through accepted wisdom and show he’s a business genius. How else do you explain him giving Pardew an eight-year contract when no bigger club was after him?
A contract he presumably wants him to walk away from now, due to Kinnear breath’s on his neck.
I don’t feel sympathy for Derek Llambias either, who was Ashley’s partner in most of the tacky crimes that sought to alienate the club from its traditional Geordie heartbeat.
Making Dennis Wise an executive director, changing the name of St James’ Park to the Sports Direct Arena, and selling the famous shirt to pay-day loan firm Wonga, are at the top of the charge sheet. I don’t feel sorry for the Kebabs, Ben Afris, and all the other players whose names Kinnear can’t be bothered learning how to pronounce.
They’ll still get paid, and if the club sinks, they’ll get a move to another pay-day without as much as a backward glance.
No, once again it is the fans who will suffer most. The ones who, despite not seeing silver for 44 years, and being once again the butt of a million tattooed jokes, remain unceasingly loyal.
This was how one Geordie mate put the latest carry-on at Sid James’ Park: “As if ruining our winter isn’t enough for Fat Mike, he’s decided to ruin our summer too. I think he gets off on it. Because I can’t see how bringing back that dinosaur Kinnear benefits anyone.”
I can. It benefits Malcolm Glazer, Roman Abramovich, Sheikh Mansour, Stan Kroenke, John Henry and Randy Lerner.
Because whenever they’re asked to give one good reason why they should be allowed to run big English football clubs, they can simply reply “Well, at least we’re not Mike Ashley.”
And some of us think we have problems with FSG
