George Caulkin:
In February last year, I was asked to write a piece about Aston Villa. They were second in the Sky Bet Championship and so the time seemed right to appraise how theyâd got there and their readiness or otherwise to return to the Premier League. Speak to people in and around the club, I was told, gauge the mood, reflect the atmosphere. Perhaps I could give Steve Bruce a ring; after all, Iâd known him for a long time.
That last bit, though, was not on the agenda. Joe, Bruceâs dad, had just died and Sheenagh, his mother, was in hospital with a serious illness (from which she never recovered), and Villaâs manager was reeling, juggling his work with thrice-weekly trips up the motorway from his home in Cheshire back to Tyneside, where he was born and his parents still lived. In those circumstances, pushing for an interview would not have felt appropriate.
So I talked to a couple of fans, arranged a chat with a member of Villaâs coaching staff and decided to drive to Birmingham, to stroll around Villa Park and to pop in to Bruceâs regular pre-match conference. I sent him a text as a courtesy, just to let him know Iâd be there. Within 30 seconds, he rang. âWhy are you coming all the way down here, son?â he asked, even though he was in the middle of the same journey. âSave yourself the bother. What do you need?â
By the time the article appeared in the paper, it was no longer about Aston Villa. Bruce spoke searingly about âthe horrible pain in the stomach that grief gives you,â his sense of âpowerlessness.â Towards the end, Joe would often ask his son why he still put himself through the wringer of management. âIt was his way of saying, âWhat are you doing, Steve? Are you mad?ââ Bruce said. âWe all ask that question of ourselves sometimes.â
Perhaps this is not much of an anecdote but, in my experience, it is a small illustration of the kind of man Bruce is; considerate, helpful and fundamentally decent. None of which are qualifications to manage Newcastle United, although that is precisely the point. The people who say that Bruce is not good enough for Newcastle have got it all wrong; he is too good. Way too good for Mike Ashleyâs works team.
There are two reasons why Bruce, who has signed a three-year contract as head coach, should not be within a million miles of the job at St Jamesâ Park. The first is that if Newcastle had even a modicum of ambition then Rafa BenĂtez would still be in the role, but after having the wit to appoint a manager who could still see the club in terms of potential and stature, they failed to understand what it entailed. That to improve means investment, imagination, speed of thought.
After BenĂtez, almost any manager would represent a step down, but he was the exception at Newcastle not the rule. Take the Spaniard out of it and Bruce is following Alan Pardew and Steve McClaren, all English, all experienced, all greeted with either bemusement or hostility. In both emotional and footballing terms, BenĂtez held the club together, keeping them in the Premier League and giving supporters a reason to believe. That glue has dissolved.
And so the second reason is more personal. Ashleyâs Newcastle chews good people up; Benitez, Chris Hughton, Alan Shearer, Kevin Keegan. If anyone thinks it will be different with Bruce ... well, the last 12 years provides compelling, distressing precedent. At best, the club is unconventional and at worst it is dysfunctional, incapable of putting two good decisions together. Something always lurks around the corner.
The mood is noxious. Newcastle have lost BenĂtez, Ayoze PĂ©rez has been sold to Leicester City for ÂŁ30 million, SalomĂłn RondĂłn, so impressive on loan from West Bromwich Albion last season, is not returning and they are yet to sign a player. Plenty of supporters are jettisoning season tickets, others are campaigning for a boycott of Newcastleâs first home match of the season. This is not fertile territory for optimism.
It will be said that Bruce knows what he is getting into, that by working for Ashley he is complicit with the regime, but nobody knows; not really. BenĂtez believed he was joining a club with designs on Europe, but is now working in China. McClaren believed he could change things; within months of his appointment, he and Paul Simpson, were given written warnings after the first-team coach spoke about transfers in public.
Bruce will back himself and so he should. âThis is my boyhood club and it was my dadâs club, so this is a very special moment for me and my family,â he said today. Sheffield Wednesday and their supporters have a right to feel bruised, particularly regarding the timing of Bruceâs arrival and departure, but the 58-year-old has a chance to go home, into the Premier League. Like all managers, he will look at the peril and reckon he can wrestle with it.
New additions will arrive, belatedly. Newcastle have long been fixated on Joelinton, Hoffenheimâs Brazilian forward, who will cost around ÂŁ36 million. They pressed the 22-year-old on BenĂtez, who demurred; he liked the player, but not at anything like that price and, if there was that much money available, why not let him spent it on his own choices? Who makes the recruitment decisions will be interesting. And what about the clubâs âtakeover?â Where does that now stand?
At this mute club that shuns responsibility, everything Bruce says will be dissected and thrown back at him. He will be a very different figurehead to BenĂtez and, initially at least, the atmosphere will be toxic. As nufc.com, the independent fans website, put it, âthis is the very opposite of ambition, but an appointment that nicely mirrors our grubby, unloved, derided shell of a football clubâ. I wish Bruce luck and victories. And I wish he wasnât there.
