To help you loyal Mags cope with the frustration of the current transfer window, jump into the Newcastle United transfer time machine.
At the controls is Ross Wilson, scouring the transfer market of yesteryear.
He’s going to bundle players of the past into the back of his transfer time machine, then send them to Eddie Howe to get some fitness in the legs before knacking Liverpool 4-3 on the opening day of the season.
The criteria for a seat in the Newcastle United transfer time machine are character, skill and unflinching commitment. Young ‘uns and old ‘uns, as long as they’ve got the heart. Swagger. Players who can mix it. Maybe a bit of devilment to annoy other fans. Footballers to get people on their feet.
Grafters who would never capitulate to the unwashed. Goals scored against our charming Wearside neighbours.
None of these will have agents in their ears. There’ll be no speculation on the socials. No injuries before the season starts. They’ll have to sign a solemn oath before boarding the transfer time machine: no swapping shirts after losing a match and no Alice bands.
Most of the players in the transfer time machine are Toon legends, along with a few players I wish we’d bought over the years. Sadly, quite a few of them are no longer with us. RIP.
I wonder which ones you agree with, and which I’ve missed? It’s just a bit of fun to ease the pain of this barren summer.
In goal:
Shay Given. A club legend with a footballing brain. Steve Harper for being the noble understudy.
There are seats in the transfer time machine for a couple of keepers to train with. John Burridge for the warm-ups and being crackers. Tim Krul, for coming on at a tender age to distinguish himself in Europe.
Defence:
Bobby Moncur, Fairs Cup captain. Frank Clark and David Craig (ask your Granda). John Beresford and Warren Barton, centre parting (ask your Dad).
A scattering of local lads to shore up the defence, mostly Steves. The versatile Steve Watson, Eddie loves you already. Steve Carney, he’s from Blyth, or at least Blyth Spartans. Steve Howey, you’ll never beat him. Another Steve, one that got away, Steve Bruce. I know, I know…cabbage, bacon sarnies, accumulation of points. Bear with me. Ross talks sense into him and gets him to sign for us from Norwich. Remember it’s a time machine. It probably has an ejector seat and all.
Kenny Wharton sitting on the ball against Luton. Brian Kilcline for being hard. Glenn Roeder for the shuffle and the scholarly manner. Jonathan Woodgate with a magic unicorn to keep him fit.
Philippe Albert for that goal against Manure. Five nowt. Hard lines, Ferguson. Liam O’ Brien for the one at Joker Park in 1992.
© 1992 The Mag. All rights reserved.
Midfield:
David McCreery for not looking anything like a footballer, just winning it and passing it. Bryan Robson, combative and controlling. Sandro, take note of these two lads. Something to think about when your lass drags you round London boutiques.
Paul Gascoigne, with someone to keep him safe from the demons. And Vinnie Jones grabbing his youthful knackers. Cheick Tiote for the fourth goal against Arsenal. James Milner, football’s bull-necked Benjamin Button. Rob Lee for being good at football. Gary Speed for being just as good and staying out of the treatment room.
A couple of hard lads for the midfield. David Batty for getting Nicky Butt by the scruff. Kevin Nolan for the chicken dance. How we laughed.
Attack:
Terry, Terry Hibbitt serving up crosses for the barrel-chested, bow-legged beast Supermac. Oh Jimmy Jimmy, Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy Smith (your Granda’s going to be answering a lot of questions). Chris Waddle for skinning his man. Peter Beardsley for nicking the ball from an astonished defender and weaving off towards goal in his velcro boots. Mick Quinn and his infallible instincts. Just keep the pies locked up.
Issue 9 – September 1989
A couple more hard lads, this time up front. Billy Whitehurst (hear me out) for his bare-knuckle prowess. It could come in handy in the 98th minute when Lego-head’s cheating whingers are packing the box, and the ref is unsighted. Go on, Billy son. It’s a man’s game. There’ll be no VAR either, so get stuck in. Climb aboard, Duncan Ferguson. Mind your head, big man. Tindall will get you warmed up when we’re four up against Liverpool. You and Billy can hunt down the snake Isak, give him a Chinese burn, a dead leg and send him home crying for his Mammy.
Shola the Mackem Slayer. Craig Bellamy for the three S’s: speed, skill and s…housery. Andy Cole before his Judas moment. When he gets the ball…
Jamie Vardy as the whippet who got away, to add a bit of charva menace. Don’t let him room with Bellamy, mind.
Andy Carroll pre-injury. Maybe he could borrow Woodgate’s magic unicorn. Note to Eddie: keep him and Kevin Nolan apart.
Alan Shearer for turning down Taggart, the manly goal celebration and getting Roy Keane sent off. Same old Shearer…
And of course, KK. The Messiah. No explanation needed.