Alexander Isak's meltdown is the desperate act of an ingrate

Telegraph

a day ago

Now that Alexander Isak is at the Instagram-meltdown stage of his summer-long tantrum, you might expect him to come to the table with a few facts. Instead, his attempt at soliciting sympathy for weeks of childish flouncing amounts to nothing more than an unsubstantiated claim that 'promises have been broken'.
Newcastle fans can be forgiven if, after a pattern of behaviour so wretched that he is decried in the stands as 'one greedy b-----d', they struggle to accept his word as gospel. In the end, there is just one concrete piece of evidence illustrating Isak's situation, and that is a six-year contract he is seeking to break after three.
To what promises is Isak alluding? When were they made? And by whom? He provides none of this information, claiming obliquely that what was 'said and agreed behind closed doors' at Newcastle about his future has not been honoured. This is the sum of his attempt at casting himself as the burning martyr: a mention of an unspecified agreement at an unknown meeting.
As a negotiating position, it is hardly watertight. As such, Newcastle have needed little time to demolish it, issuing a statement of their own that no commitment has ever been made to Isak to allow him to leave this summer.
For the striker, once revered on Tyneside but now widely reviled, it is the latest in a catalogue of miscalculations. With his melodramatic screed on social media, Isak sounds less like the average aggrieved employee than a hostage begging to be released. To which the only natural response is contempt: how is life on £120,000 a week supposed to represent captivity, especially when he is not even bothering to play football matches?
The longer this saga goes on, the more you have to ask why Liverpool, the object of his heart's desires, would want to lavish north of £130m on such an ingrate. If Isak can be this infantile at one club, refusing to adhere to even the most basic standards, then he is capable of similar petulance elsewhere.
The same logic applies to Newcastle's pursuit of Yoane Wissa, who is reaching for a near-identical playbook at Brentford. With Wissa, any semblance of loyalty to the supporters who idolise him in south-west London has long since evaporated. Not content with flying back early from a pre-season training camp in Portugal, or threatening not to train again if he was not granted a move to St James' Park, he has joined Isak in deploying the Insta-wars tactic, deleting all club photographs from his feed and even turning his profile picture to black. Truly, there are teenagers in the throes of their first break-ups who have shown greater maturity than this pair.
You feel for Eddie Howe. Desperate not to antagonise his most prolific goalscorer, who delivered goals against all of the 'big six' last season and the decisive second against Liverpool to secure Newcastle's first domestic trophy for 70 years, he must also avoid inflaming the tensions of a febrile fanbase. So far, his stance – not involving Isak in training, where the Swede's toxic agitation could disrupt the team dynamic, but keeping the door ajar for him to return – has been deftly judged.
But how you wish a Premier League manager could deal with diva-like antics in the manner of Brian Clough. 'How do you react when someone from your playing staff says, 'Boss, I think you're doing this wrong?' he was asked. 'Well,' Clough replied, deadpan, 'I ask him which way he thinks it should be done, we get down to it, we talk about it for 20 minutes, and then we decide I was right.'
Once, this philosophy was a staple of managing at the highest level. Sadly, eye-watering player salaries, coupled with an army of agents and intermediaries, ensure that the balance of power has shifted decisively away from managers, with Isak indulging in all his pathetic stunts in the knowledge that he is too important to be sacked. And a decent soul like Howe simply has to wear the type of conduct that would trigger instant dismissal in any other sphere, even while his own authority is undermined.
What makes the situation more galling is the fact that Isak lacks the gumption to submit a formal transfer request, preferring to hide behind talk of broken promises that he refuses to clarify. In so many ways, it is a parable of modern football. You want to believe Newcastle are teaching him a lesson by strictly enforcing the terms of contract, but they will find a way of reintegrating him in the end, even after all his egregious excesses.
Be wary, too, of the talk that he has burnt his bridges with the fans. If the Anfield switch fails to materialise, absolution will engulf him at Newcastle just as soon as he weighs in with a couple of crucial goals. That is the nature of the game, where superstars can abandon all pretence of professionalism on the understanding that the service they provide renders them essentially beyond reproach.