When Kevin Keegan stood on the steps of St James’ Park a matter of hours after he had sold Andy Cole to Manchester United he was unequivocal - “If this doesn’t work out” he (more or less) said, “blame me”.



Keegan understood how being a football manager worked. You see, he was responsible for managing the team, therefore when his decisions resulted in the club shipping goals, losing points and dropping places his head was on the block.



Fast forward two decades and Alan Pardew seems to be focusing all of his energy on redefining exactly what being a manager of a top flight club entails, which would at least go some way to explain why our performances have dropped off a cliff over the past couple of months.





Managers should no longer have to accept responsibility for piss poor performances, or so “Pards” seems to think. Since our season hit the buffers and we’ve been treated to chapter and verse from Alan on who is to blame. Funnily enough the manager, the person who picks the team and tactics and works with the squad in the build up to matches, is not one of them.Over various points this season tiredness, transfers, the working class, spies and even science have all publicly been blamed for our form. Marie Curie will be spinning in her grave.The post-match ritual of listening to Ashley’s point man run through his never-ending list of reasons we lost while butchering the English language ceased to be amusing quite some time ago. Pardew’s ramblings are not only a disturbing window into his mind, they also provide an explanation as to why he’s the dressing room have turned their backs on him.Alan has an ego. Alan can’t possibly be at fault because Alan knows that Alan is the English Mourinho. Have you seen the book shelf in his office at the training ground? He wouldn’t be on first name terms with Jose if the man himself didn’t think he was the heir to his throne, would he? How dare you suggest that playing 442 when there isn’t a fucking natural winger on our books, let alone in the match day squad, contributed to our recent spankings. It was injuries. Even Chelsea get injuries.But what happens when you don’t have injuries? What happens when you’re on a run of back to back to back three and four-nil spankings? What happens when you’re one hammering away from tripling the number of defeats by three goals or more the very same team got during the year they were relegated? Do as every bad workman and blame your tools.Pardew has effectively decided to turn the gun on his family, presumably in the vein hope that blaming the playing staff for his own failings will inspire the side to victory and confuse his football-illiterate boss long enough for him to make it to the summer clinging to his job, where emphasis will suddenly shift from the manager to the owner’s chequebook.His ire has largely been directed at a handful of players in particular, namely Hatem Ben Arfa and Sylvain Marveaux. The former has remained in and around the starting XI by virtue of the fact that he’s the only player semi-capable of pulling us out of the shit when we find ourselves in it, however he’s also the whipping boy. After every match rumours abound of dressing room dressing downs involving HBA and the management. We were treated to a small glimpse of such when John Carver’s immediate reaction to Man United’s third was to round on the Frenchman. After banging on the door and asking for a run out Marveaux managed to offend his bosses so much during his brief appearance against Tottenham he was training with the under 18s the next day. He was no worse than his team mates.While the other players may have got away without being dressed down in front of their peers there’s a poisonous atmosphere developing, that much is clear. The manager would sooner stab his players in the back to hide his own failings than face the music. The dressing room is lost. That Premier League Manager of the Year award looks like it was several dozen decades ago.A summer clear out may help us in the short term, but with Pardew the future is bleak. He’d rather chuck his own nan under a bus than face up to the fact that he’s at best plain fucking average and at worst a proto-charlatan.As always, Newcastle United deserves better.