Three factors are key to PSR-ed Newcastle United producing a repeat of Liverpool’s £4bn growth, while it’s the ‘same old Spurs’ under Thomas Frank…
Send your views to theeditor@football365.com…
What does Liverpool know about PSR…?
To funstar andy:
No, Liverpool wasnt always top 5 or top 8 since the 1950s. Why, there’s a gigantic statue of Bill Shankly becos he won LFC the championship in 1962… the 2nd division championship (back when the top division was division one). We spent at least a couple years looking up from a lower division.
And big 6? Maybe. For some periods of time.
But after we were sold to Dumb and Dumber Hicks and Gillette, who proceeded to shave us bald (ok, cold joke), we almost went bankrupt in 2010. If FSG (then known as NESV) hadnt convinced RBS to sell us for £300mil, we’d have been in administration, booted to Champo division, with no guarantee that we’d be back. We most definitely werent big 6 back then, as recently as 2010, barely 15 years ago.
We had Roy Hodgson for manager (whom Stevie G thot the world of, lol, whilst he was critical of Rafa for playing him in his most devastating position of 10 or RW or LW just not 8 or 6), who bought Mark Konchesky for LB. We were in relegation positions when Roy was finally sacked after half a season. We had Joe Cole, whom Stevie G compared to Messi in training, and whom we spent years part paying his salary to get him off our books. We had Milan Jovanovic as our big ticket free agent, porn star lookalike Andriy Voronin as 10, no kidding. And we cheered for david ngog who was an improvement. Torres couldnt wait to jump off the boat the moment he got healthy and better.
I know u guys had mike ashley for 14 years from 2007 till 2021. That’s a terrible decade and half, bouncing between divisions. But trust me, u dont want to get anywhere near bankruptcy, the way we did. It was a time lfc could really have disappeared for good.
So no, we werent always top 6 since the 1950s. We almost disappeared in 2010, not too long ago.
As tightwad as fsg are, and as frustrated as i am with them sometimes, they’ve proven their financially prudent management works. The club is profitable and the asset value has risen from £300 mil in 2010 to £3-4bil today. All without investing the kinds of crazy sums that sugar daddies do. (Read: forest, everton). In net spend terms, we’ve been consistently 5th or below, outspent by other clubs below us. So it’s doable, with lots of luck, skill, hard work.
Good luck making your way up!
Gab YNWA
PS Barca still trying their best to turn Luis Diaz head on the cheap, as is Real with Konate. Encouraging them to run down their contracts. Odious clubs. A pox on them both.
READ: Liverpool ‘proud’? They are royalty while Newcastle and Villa get PSR-ed
I read Liverpool supporters’ mails in response to James, NUFC’s entry regarding PSR and Newcastle with interest.
I thought Ldjub – LFC stranded in Salford’s mail thoughtful and interesting; his “do it the right way” point was fairly persuasive.
And Danny, LFC NY (now London) made fair points about the desire of many (most, I’d say) Newcastle supporters to ignore or even venerate the club’s new Saudi owners. And I agree with him that there’s too much whining about PSR from our lot.
Although neither is completely wrong, I think both of them are oversimplifying these matters.
While it’s true that the ostensible reason for PSR was to prevent clubs from unsustainable and destructive spending, that hasn’t particularly worked. Everton is only one EPL club that’s been in financial hot water (and I’m not just talking points deductions) since the rules were introduced. Heck, Ruben Amorim was insisting that ManU was about to go bankrupt at the start of their current spending spree.
Additionally, because I gather that the rules only apply in the EPL, they do nothing to protect the clubs below them, where we’ve seen a number of clubs in dire straits recently. Those are the clubs that need PSR.
Anyway, given that PIF is the richest club owner in the world, what exactly are these rules protecting us from?
I’ve always suspected that PSR rules were also intended to rein in the growth of player costs; if so, it has failed utterly, to the sorrow of us relative minnows.
Whatever the “reasons” for PSR, their effect has been confusion and frustration for clubs and their supporters, as the rules have militated against long- term planning, particularly for clubs bouncing in and out of the UCL. Nobody, but nobody, wanted to sell Elliott Anderson; PSR made that happen. On the other hand, that ridiculous deal last summer might have been (for us) the result of counting unhatched chickens with the Tonali and Gordon buys, given the 2023-24 league table.
And every Liverpool supporter should understand that they were already among the richest clubs in the world in 2013, no matter how long it had been since they’d won the league: 10th in the world, according to a 2014 Forbes article using 2013 data. This was also the year that Real Madrid replaced ManU as the world’s wealthiest club.
Whether Liverpool’s earlier long domination of English football was a result of doing things “the right way” is an open question, as far as I’m concerned. How often were they able to throw their financial weight around with smaller clubs? A lot, I’m guessing.
But still, I’m hugely ambivalent about PSR. It frustrates me on behalf of clubs like Newcastle and Forest. But by not allowing a club like Newcastle to buy a billion dollars worth of players this summer, they do prevent all clubs (except evidently Chelsea) from just buying success. That’s a good thing. And yet again, they have contributed to a concentration of wealth at the top. That’s bad.
I think there are versions of PSR that really would work and be fair, but this version ain’t one.
(Also, Danny was just wrong about our recent signings. This is our fourth consecutive window without a first- team signing. It’s not complete, and we’ll sign players, but I should think James, NUFC could be forgiven for calling 22 months two years.)
Chris C, Toon Army DC
TRANSFER FEATURES ON F365…
👉 Transfer rumour power ranking: Amorim KOs Man Utd deal, Arsenal bid rejected
👉 Liverpool lead biggest transfer summer spenders as Kerkez takes them near £200m
👉 Twenty biggest transfers in the world in 2025 summer transfer window
Same old Spurs!
I was happy with the arrival of Thomas Frank as I saw him as the only possible good replacement for Ange. But it seems spurs are still playing the same transfer game. Act quickly in buying young players but dragging their heals when it comes to the seasoned pros we desperately need!
I’m guessing when Levy said he wanted to win the league he meant the under 21’s league!
Frank will get a better tune out of the squad we have as he is adaptable, but if we dont act quickly like the teams we aspire to challenge then we won’t be doing much next season.
As a side, having watched the interview with Levy and Vinai there was much self loving it was like a David Brent convention!!
Lee ‘I dont care about Levy, he dont care about me’, Plymouth (looking forward to seeing the world class Spurs under 21s in my home town next season!)
Calm down a bit!
Enjoyed Jason Souter’s article on the Juventus – City game last night. But then, as a City fan, there’s always going to be an element of “He would say that wouldn’t he?” Which is fair enough and, importantly, it was only one game. But the main takeaway I have from that article is that the new signings meant that City ‘purred.’ They did. And in a competitive game, not a pre-season friendly.
Which, rather clumsily, brings me to my wider point. That of the endless sagas and waffle during the summer transfer window. “Player X will make us great! Player Y will win us the League!.”
Simply put, not you, I, or any of the ‘ITK’ journos, regardless of the price paid, have the foggiest idea of how a new player is going to get on. (Including whether or not they’ll sign in the first place).
Are they prima-donnas? Will they upset the dressing room? Will they get injured early doors? Will their new manager be able to get the best out of them consistently?
I have an old (cockney) red mate whom I used to describe as evangelical and, for nearly ten years, all I would get were texts along the lines of “We’ve got Mourinho, we’re back! We’ve got Pogba, Sanchez, Sancho, CR7, we’re back!”
You get the idea. Just wouldn’t be told. Strangely enough, he doesn’t do that anymore.
In my experience, it’s not necessarily the big money signings that have the biggest impact on a club’s success. Think VVD, Mahrez, Kompany, Salah, KDB etc. (I’m sure there are plenty more from other clubs but, frankly, can’t be arsed Googling it).
My point is, don’t sweat the press nonsense. Wait for either the inevitable photo Op with player Z with pen in hand at a desk with his new CEO’s arm around his shoulder, or the equally inevitable shot of said player holding up his new shirt on the pitch with his name and squad number on it.
After that, give it at least six months to see how your new ‘wonder boy(s)’ has/have settled in.
Until then, and whilst everybody is more than entitled to get somewhat excited about new signings, might I respectfully suggest that the more ‘evangelical’ mail boxers turn your gas down. Just a little bit.
Mark (Bye Kevin. Gutted to see him go. Just can’t bring myself to call him King Kev though. There’s only been one City King, and his name was Colin. So says an Old Fart). MCFC.
READ: Aston Villa and Brighton duos in 10 Premier League loanees ready to shine in 2025/26
Labels for outfield player lifestages…
Dear F365,
I saw in your reporting of Ronado’s extended deal with Al Nassr that you described him as a veteran which I’m going to suggest is inaccurate. Might I propose the following labels for outfield player lifestages:
Teenagers: Depending on potential, must be described as one of ‘prospect’ if they’re average, ‘sensation’ if they have moments of brilliance, ‘prodigy’ if they’re enigmatic and not from Europe and ‘wunderkind’ if they’re already pretty good and from Europe.
Early 20’s: Depending on the club they’re at and how often they’re featuring and how well they’re performing must be described as ‘player’ if they’re average, ‘mercurial’ if they’re inconsistent in a way that is mostly average but has flashes of incredible, ‘middling’ if they’re inconsistent in a way that is mostly average but has periods of rubbish and ‘star’ if they’re consistently performing.
Late 20’s: As above, but ‘journeyman’ if they’re average, ‘frustrating’ if they’re inconsistent in a way that is mostly average but has flashes of incredible, ‘dross’ if they’re inconsistent in a way that is mostly average but has periods of rubbish and ‘world class’ if they’re consistently performing.
Early 30’s: As above, but ‘experienced’ if they’re average, ‘unfulfilled potential’ if they’re inconsistent in a way that is mostly average but has flashes of incredible, ‘stealing a wage’ if they’re inconsistent in a way that is mostly average but has periods of rubbish and ‘a wise head’ if they’re consistently performing.
Mid-late 30’s: As above although by now there are only two types, ‘veterans’ if they’re average but reliably so and ‘legends’ if they’re consistently performing.
After the late 30’s is no time for professional outfielders to be seriously playing and so the only labels available are ‘sad geriatric’ if they’re clogging around at the base of the league pyramid, probably doing so in the number 43 shirt because 4+3=7 and they used to wear 7 or ‘delusional egomaniac’ if they’re still clinging on in any kind of credible league while demanding a single digit squad number.
Many thanks for your attention.
Dr Oyvind, Earth.
ABUism…
Hello F365,
I’d normally edit this down before sending it in, but during this period of off-season somnolence, I reckon you’re desperate enough to print it in full. So fair warning: it’s long.
There’s an often-discussed feeling many of us can relate to: when that little-known band you follow suddenly make it big, when that book you enjoyed years ago gets made into a lavish HBO series and everyone is talking about it, or when that under-18s player you’ve been tracking through youth tournaments and reserve appearances steps up to the first team and bosses the midfield like a seasoned pro. Probably the Germans have a word for it: that mixture of pride, satisfaction, excitement, smugness, but also an indefinable sense of loss, as the special thing which was known only to yourself and a few other obsessive nerds goes mainstream. Now national journalists are writing in-depth columns about this exciting new thing, and the most basic of armchair fans is telling you, ‘Oh I really like so-and-so, have you heard of them?’
There have been many heartwarmingly hilarious things about Man Utd’s decline over the last decade-plus: Moyes, Fellaini, Pogba, Ed Woodward, Antony. The club has been like a clown car that just keeps giving out: every time you think enough daftness has emerged from that apparently-finite-sized vehicle, out pops another grinning idiot in polyester wig and enormous shoes, tripping over his own feet and crashing into lampposts.
But spare a moment’s thought for the ABU. Utd’s continued dedication to wringing the neck of their own legacy has turned everyone not born within 30 miles of TTOD into a loud, proud member of the ABU gang. ABUism has gone mainstream. I’ve been growing a touch concerned by how easy it is for this new generation to flaunt their Utd-baiting credentials, so I’m going to offer some important historical context to the younger ABUers out there.
READ: Newcastle blame Manchester United, makes Rashford U-turn and launch worst £125m ‘triple-swoop’ ever
You see, ABUism didn’t used to be so easy. I know this will shock some, but back in the day, Man Utd were good; and when they weren’t good, they were lucky, and when they weren’t good or lucky they were still twice as rich as everyone else. Being an ABU in those days was lonely work. As Man Utd hoovered up title after title, with one of the most stubborn managers in history helming every aspect of the club with iron authority, us ABUs were the laughing stock of school playgrounds and pub saloons up and down the country. Where to turn, for the humiliated ABU, as Utd win the league with 79 points? How do you maintain your dignity, when Utd have just won three league titles in a row and another UCL on top, and we’ve stopped even bothering to count the FA and league cups?
In those days, us ABUs had to nurture the flame of our passion quietly, even secretively. I grew up in suburban south London, where Man Utd ‘supporters’ were ten-a-dozen. Being an ABU in those circumstances was not easy, but for some of us, it was never a conscious choice. My dad was an ABU; his dad was an ABU. Cut me open and I bleed ABU. To this day, my old man proudly recounts the tale to anyone who’ll listen of how my mum tried to put a red dummy in my mouth and I spat it on the floor. ‘Fuck United!’ I babbled, and these were my very first words.
Back when Utd were so good they were inevitable, being an ABU meant something. For many Utd supporters, That Night in Barcelona stands as the greatest moment in their sporting lives; and in a way it was for me, too, but for entirely opposite reasons. As I sat in the bosom of three generations of my ABU family, and together we watched that Norwegian goblin prod the ball home for the most undeserving winning goal in the history of sport, and wept as those scarlet-bibbed idiots celebrated in a sweaty Manc pile, I knew I belonged: the passionate, white-hot hatred I felt was meaning, purpose, identity, community. The very next morning, my old man and I got matching tattoos: a camp little devil being sodomised by a Kaiser Wilhelm-style old dude. The devil screams his safe word: ABU! ABU! But Kaiser Wilhelm is just laughing and sodomising, laughing and sodomising. My girlfriend has begged me to get this tattoo lasered off (it’s in a very particular, usually-covered place). I’ve told her repeatedly: I love you, you’re my soulmate, we’ll grow old together. But I would sooner die than erase this part of myself.
I’m sorry for going off on a personal tangent, but I care deeply about this. The modern-day ABU has no idea of the hardships we OG ABUs had to face: constant taunts about how great Utd were, how their era of dominance would never end, how Ferg was the greatest manager in history, how their players were superior to every other teams’ players. The hardest thing to bear was the accuracy of these jibes. We had no logical comeback. We just had to stand there and take it. Being an ABU used to be like being a WWII soldier behind enemy lines: the enemy was everywhere, all around you, you couldn’t trust anyone. You’d spot a new kid in the playground, sidle up to them and hiss, ‘Juan Sebastien Veron’s struggling to settle in England isn’t he? How much did Utd spunk on him this summer?’ – hoping for a laugh, however quickly stifled, a wink of recognition. Instead you’d get a sidelong look, a drawn-out ‘You what? Best midfield in Europe mate,’ and before you could escape he’d be hollering, ‘Lads, I’ve found one! This guy says he likes Palace!’ and the whole yard would be pointing at you and laughing. Or, later in life, you’d drop into the pub for a pint and a quick shufti at Sky Sports News, and as you’re leaning at the bar you might mutter to the next guy, ‘Pep’s Barcelona team are looking next-level, surely they’re going to wipe the floor with Utd in the Champions League final, what d’you reckon?’ – and end up with a glass embedded in your eye and the landlord throwing you into the street, followed by a great glob of phlegm and the immortal words, ‘Stick to netball, you twat.’ And these are two of the more family-friendly incidents I suffered during those heady years of c.1993 – 2013.
It was a tough, brutal time, and sometimes you had to defend your ABU beliefs with your life. But it inculcated a defiance, a determination to persist. We were hacking through the tough times towards those longed-for sunlit uplands. And now – here we are. The sunlit uplands are everything we hoped for: bountiful, nourishing and, most importantly, hilarious. Every year, Utd find new depths of ineptitude to plumb. Every year their rhetoric grows more and more detached from reality. Every year they circle closer to the holy grail, the utopia of relegation. And yet, something feels slightly off, for me at least. I look around at the happy faces of the new, young breed of ABUs, those who’ve never known anything but success, never known first-hand quite how terrifyingly omnipotent Utd can be. I meet the eyes of my fellow lifelong ABUs, those of us past 35ish years old, and I see old scars lurking beneath the merriment. Are there enough of us still standing? Some, it is true, have started to abandon the battlefield, wearied by the fight. They say they feel sorry for Utd, that the Prem needs a strong Utd to make it competitive. Let them go: we don’t need them. But those of us who remain are constantly totting up the numbers, evaluating the condition of our fellow warriors. The young’uns are untested in the theatre of war, so how trustworthy are they really? What if, against all reason, sense and logic, Amorim’s plan starts to bear fruit? What if Mbuemo and Cunha turn Utd into the most potent attack in the league? What if they raise north of £200m selling Onana, Maguire, Mainoo, Antony, Sancho, Rashford and Hoijlund, and reinvest it efficiently and effectively? What if, revitalised, they start chasing down Liverpool, Arsenal and City? If Utd rise again, will the new generation of ABUs have the grit to see it through? Or will they, like so many previous generations of Surrey-based milksops, fold under the pressure and start claiming, ‘Well I’ve supported them since my dad drove past the Trafford Centre once in 1976’?
I didn’t mean for this to develop into an ‘aging-man-gets-angry-at-the-modern-world-as-it-races-away-from-him’ diatribe. I don’t want to denigrate the young’uns out there, taking their first steps into the world of ABUism. But I just want them to know – if any of them have put down their Tiktoks long enough to read this far – that it wasn’t always this easy to laugh at Man Utd. For two decades, it was really bloody difficult, actually. And despite the absolute calamity of the last few years, the club remains rich enough and prestigious enough to mount a comeback. So it might happen. If that day comes, me and the other OGs are gonna be out here, standing tall, the old defiance rekindled, ready to ride again. Can we rely on you youngers to stand alongside us, even as Utd drop £250m on a 28-year-old Lamine Yamal and go on to win their second treble in two seasons?
I certainly hope so.
Yours, staunchly,
Scriv O’Scoob (OG ABU), Wandsworth
Fichajes
I have the give a hard “agree” with Ashmundo from today’s Mailbox with regard to F365 articles featuring “news” from Fichajes. I hit the back button the second I see their name.
