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Joey Barton - Is there a way back?


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Yep: http://rangers.co.uk/news/headlines/club-statement-69/

 

Reads very like "goodbye"...can't see the point in a week's extension other than that they are haggling over settlement details. God alone knows what he'll tweet about us after he leaves

 

We have had enough trouble without signing Barton.

 

The hacks up here will have a field day with him, spouting rubbish about the Club etc.

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Opportunity to get 20k a week off the wage bill when we have better options in Rossiter and Halliday for the position.

 

Shame as Barton was one of those you wanted to be successful to stick it to Celtic and Scott Brown. Only has himself to blame sadly.

 

His diatribes about Warburton and the Club will be interesting.... But he should be careful because he has more skeletons in his closet than our Club does.

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It seems his race is run.

 

Here is a review of his book, from today's Observer:

 

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2016/oct/09/joey-barton-no-nonsense-review-autobiography

 

 

 

No Nonsense by Joey Barton review – a serial adopter of the fresh start

The controversial footballer’s autobiography teems with the rhetoric of self-development, but there’s no denying his self-deprecating humour…

 

Alex Clark

Sunday 9 October 2016 10.00 BST

In a fractured and fractious world, diplomacy – or at least tact deployed so that one may get one’s way – is a vital tool. As with greatness, some men are born to it, some achieve it, and some have it thrust upon them: others, like the footballer Joey Barton, appear to have decided to dispense with it altogether. Here he is, resolved to confront his manager at Queens Park Rangers, Harry Redknapp, about the team’s terrible form:

 

“He was watching the Racing Channel, and it was pointless hedging my bets.

 

“‘Gaffer, I need to speak with you. I don’t know how you’ve managed to do this, but everyone hates you.’”

 

There’s not hedging your bets, and then there’s walking in with an actual hedge and setting fire to it. But if Redknapp felt himself to be staring into the abyss of social isolation at that moment, Barton was also on hand with a glimmer of hope. He actually liked him.

 

Barton, of course, makes great play of the fact that he doesn’t care whether he is liked or not. A famously enthusiastic user of Twitter, his sales pitch for his autobiography advised his followers: “If you want to buy it, buy it. If you don’t, don’t. But don’t come on here moaning at me today. I can’t be arsed with you. Have a day off.” (He had even shorter shrift for golfer Bubba Watson in the wake of America’s recent Ryder Cup victory: “Why is Bubba crying? Never even played. Dickhead!”)

 

 

Full disclosure: I do like him. I interviewed him for the Observer four years ago, when an editor’s wheeze was to film us going round the Lucian Freud exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery – the idea being to reflect Barton’s apparent rebirth as a culture vulture. Charitably, you could call it a bid to disrupt expectations; but you might also suspect a little de haut en bas teasing. Anyway, we had a nice time, and afterwards we went for a spot of lunch at an unglamorous little cafe of Barton’s choosing, where he ate vegetable soup and hummus: he was swerving meat, he explained, having been reading up on it

 

But a pleasant promenade can’t magically vanish Barton’s baggage. His combative personality has caused him problems at all his clubs, from Manchester City to Newcastle United, where he called caretaker manager Alan Shearer a cheat and accused him of wanting to surround himself with sycophants, to Glasgow Rangers, where he is nearing the end of a suspension for rowing with a team-mate following a 5-1 tonking in an Old Firm match. Last week he was also charged with allegedly placing 44 bets on football matches between July and September, in contravention of the Scottish Football Association’s rules on gambling. Off the pitch, there have been serious outbreaks of violence involving team-mates – Jamie Tandy, Ousmane Dabo – a teenage fan and his father while on a trip to Bangkok, not to mention various off-duty city-centre bust-ups with members of the public.

 

Barton is a serial adopter of the fresh start; over the years, he has repeatedly declared himself a new man, wiser, more mature, in control of the destructive impulses that assail him. Now, perhaps more realistically, he has alighted on the Japanese theory of kaizen, or gradual and continuous improvement, and his book bustles with the frequently overblown verbal tics of self-development.

 

It would be unfair to dismiss it because of that. Barton’s exploration of his childhood, which, despite close relationships with many family members and particularly his grandmother, was permeated with violence, will be rejected by his detractors as the search for an excuse. But killing and GBH were all around him; his brother Michael and a cousin are serving jail sentences for the racist murder of 18-year-old Anthony Walker in 2005. After the pair fled the country, Barton appealed to them to return and give themselves up but, he says, he still continually asks himself whether he could have done anything – presumably by exerting greater influence on them – to prevent the murder.

 

Swagger though he might, those experiences have clearly marked him. But there is still humour. When Barton joined the England squad in 2007 to gain his one senior cap, he was greeted with a certain amount of frostiness by those of his new team-mates who had published autobiographies following a shabby showing in the previous year’s World Cup; Barton lampooned their efforts as “We got beat in the quarter-finals. I played like shit. Here’s my book.” It is to Barton’s credit that he captions a photograph of himself training with “my fellow authors, Steven Gerrard and Frank Lampard”. See also his response to a reporter’s question as he left Rangers following his suspension. “Are you still a Rangers player, Joey?” Pause. “I think so.”

 

No Nonsense is published by Simon & Schuster (£20). Click here to buy it for £16.40

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