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THEY are certainly not beyond repair but Manchester City are presently broken. Where once they stole the breath, now they emit a tired sigh; the kind heard from an old man sinking into a familiar chair and it is shocking and saddening in equal measure to witness a side that for two years and more painted bold, bright colours across the sky become such a faded facsimile of their former selves.

In a chilly north-east on Saturday lunchtime they accrued 76% possession and carved out 24 shots but occasionally stats are like politicians electioneering and they lie. These figures were whoppers impossible to spin. Granted the shot tally suggests this was a continuation of City’s wastefulness in front of goal, one that has seen them spurn 37 big chances so far this season.

But besides a couple of smart saves by Dubravka it is difficult to recall a poor Newcastle team being unduly troubled as they comfortably smothered build up play utterly devoid of imagination and deriving solely from muscle memory.

As for the possession it only offered a greater opportunity to highlight the combinations that are proving to be City’s undoing of late. Down the left Benjamin Mendy and Raheem Sterling is painfully inharmonious with the former cautiously feeling his way back from two career-threatening injuries while the latter’s game is noticeably effected by that. On Mendy it is depressing to acknowledge that the rampaging force of nature we so briefly delighted at is never likely to return, and his time at the club will ultimately mirror the narrative arc of Raging Bull. From sleek, devastating power we now inwardly grimace at the sight of a wheezing, futile pummelling of a brick wall.

Across the park the lightning quick, incisive overloads of yesteryear are long gone. Now Kyle Walker drives forward before halting in his tracks and laying the ball off to Riyad Mahrez. The Algerian – much like Bernardo Silva – eschews the option of heading for the by-line and rightfully so because there is no overlap nor close support from David Silva or Kevin De Bruyne anymore so he’d be all alone in that distant hinterland.

Instead he cuts inside and momentarily feigns to float one in with his left foot then – to the surprise of precisely nobody – plays it square to De Bruyne. Central and with no momentum in his legs City’s architect-in-chief now faces a carapace of opposition players nullifying the routine movement of attackers they greatly outnumber and this leaves him with no other option than to ping it out to the left. It is simply a transferral of one problem to another.

The predictability of this is by no means City’s only cause for concern. The seismic loss of Aymeric Laporte has necessitated the conversion of Fernandinho to centre-back which has resulted in the defence recalibrating and looking extremely vulnerable whilst bearing the self-inflicted deprival of the best midfielder of his type in the country. Fernandinho is all-action and all-energy: he ups the tempo and those around him feed off that. Without him there it’s all carrot and no stick. It is positively pedestrian.

It is a situation not exactly helped by David Silva’s succumbing to wear and tear and age, and when De Bruyne’s passing radar is additionally faulty – as it most certainly was at the weekend – it all amounts to a dysfunction that takes the ‘extra’ out of extraordinary. Perhaps that is the most dispiriting aspect of their recent struggles that have led to just one win in five; and a season that overall has underwhelmed: too often this exploratory and brilliant Pep Guardiola creation has looked no different to everybody else.

All of which leaves Manchester City fans in somewhat of an ethical quandary. Because to what extent can we be critical of a squad that has given so much in recent campaigns, such magical moments that are now forever burnished in cherished memories? This is especially pertinent when it’s accepted that the over-riding reason for this year’s drop-off in intensity and ingenuity is the inevitable consequences of the incredible toll taken from reaching such standards.

Yet surely I was not alone in believing that – from a psychological perspective at least – the injustices suffered at Anfield three weeks back would reignite this collective. Put a fire back in their bellies. There a series of decisions went against them and the furious indignation that followed should have been motivation enough to ensure the hunger returned and from that lesser teams would be mercilessly punished along the way. Maybe Liverpool and its twelfth man VAR had actually done us a favour, I naively thought. They’d kicked a dormant beehive.

Alas, the very opposite has proven to be the case and in hindsight now it’s regrettable to say that the big performance on Merseyside can be compared to that of a spent boxer throwing one last haymaker. Like Mendy the bull is no longer raging.

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