The games people play

It’s the fag end of the football season and once again Tottenham Hotspur appear to be at a crossroads. It is a situation as reliable as hosepipe bans in the middle of a monsoon. And yet again the full picture is hard to discern.

From a position of being the favourite side of neutrals and poised to genuinely threaten a title challenge, Spurs are stumbling towards the finish line, seemingly rudderless, bereft of form, and with the whiff of mutiny in the ranks. Judging by the deluge of comment online, blame lies entirely with the manager once destined for the England job but now seemingly out of the running. I’m not so sure it is all down to him, though. And precedent suggests the situation is more complex than to reduce it to the faults of one individual.

It now appears to be open season on Harry Redknapp, who has been cast as the villain of the piece. It’s quite a turn around. Just a handful of games ago songs were sung begging him to stay at the Lane. Now some of those same fans may be preparing to boo him.

Much of the criticism of Harry Redknapp is valid. He talks too much, says some wrong things at the wrong time, and his qualities as a manager are up for debate. But then we knew this already. His previous managerial form is not exactly a secret.

Prior to arriving at Spurs he had assembled several good sides that progressed under his watch. West Ham and Portsmouth enjoyed some of their better periods in their history. He won the FA Cup, and earned a reputation (deserved or not) as a busy operator in the transfer market. His teams played bright and entertaining football.

Redknapp is no Alex Ferguson, nor an Arsene Wenger, but then not many managers are. Redknapp has a record as a superb motivator, and if the players now are not showing signs of purpose and application, this is one charge that clearly sticks. But too much has been made of his apparent lack of tactical acumen. The idea that a man who has operated in or near the top level of football for over 40 years is clueless is, frankly, clueless. He might get things wrong but not without having some idea. The game just doesn’t work another way.

Rightly or wrongly (and he has angrily denied it), Redknapp has a reputation for being a wheeler dealer, an adept survivor in a business full of sharks and cut-throats. It’s a strategy many in the game utilise, but few seem to attract derision for it as much as Redknapp. He is partly to blame for that, given his tendency to talk – and talk, and talk. Great for the media, less so for fans of his club.

Redknapp says many things, often contradictory. A fan or foe can find what they want from his legion of quotes. For all the belittling of the club as ‘them’ and ‘never having it so good’, you can find examples of much more positive utterances. He has often spoken warmly of the club’s heritage and I recall the heady night after the home win over Inter when his post-match TV interview, featuring an impassioned championing of the way the club plays the game, won a round of applause in the Irish Centre just near White Hart Lane.

How times quickly change. However, it’s not what Redknapp says but what he does that’s really important. Some people attach too much credence to soundbites and take at face value more gnomic utterances that may have their own, less apparent agendas. It could even be argued that Redknapp’s seemingly blunt indifference is preferable to the dishonest platitudes supporters are usually treated to.

What Redknapp has actually done, is, in my view, largely been to the benefit of Spurs. Until the season ends, we cannot say for certain whether it will end on a positive or negative note, but overall his record is very good. This is more articulately argued in the excellent TOPSpurs column, so it is only worth highlighting here the achievements of qualifying for the Champions League and then reaching the quarter finals, with memorable performances and results against top-notch opposition both abroad and at home.

While no trophy has been secured, by modern definitions of achievement Redknapp has been an undoubted success. Not forgetting – however much his critics would argue otherwise – that he helped save Spurs when they were facing the prospect of a relegation battle.

And this is what strikes at the heart of Redknapp and Spurs now. He was brought in as a rescue act to remedy a situation of other people’s making. Enic have a chequered record in appointing managers and must have known that appointing Redknapp, with all the baggage he brings, was a risk – but it was borne out of necessity.

As it turned out he did better than anyone really expected.  That presented its own benefits, but also some dilemmas.  Redknapp joined Tottenham at the age of 61 and still commutes from his home in Dorset. He was never going to be a long-term overseer of a grand Tottenham project. It was a short-term fix. Enic even suspended their own Director of Football system to accommodate him.

Now those immediate goals are confronted by longer-term issues. The problem with talking about where Spurs are today and may be heading tomorrow is that too much focus is placed on one man. Redknapp did not put together this season’s early winning run nor earn all those wonderful victories of the last four seasons on his own; nor is he solely responsible for the heavy defeats and current poor form. It’s a team game, after all.

To take the example of transfer strategy, it would appear that some fans regard Redknapp’s dealings as disastrous. But this ignores the complexities of how the system might work at Spurs – who does what, what is the true budget, and the effect of wage policy are all unclear. We were reliably informed, not least by Redknapp himself, that Daniel Levy was ‘desperate’ to spend £30m on a striker in the last summer window. Yet against this Levy had previously gone on the record to state this sort of spending was unsustainable.

Then there is the thorny issue of ‘rotation’ and players feeling tired. Redknapp finally quashed this partial nonsense after musing it may have played a part, another indication of the contradictory nature of his comments. It is a simple case of looking at the total appearance figures of players at Spurs and other clubs, and the strength-in-depth of the relative squads, to expose the fuller picture. Similarly, much is also made of Redknapp’s supposed scouting failures, particularly when set against the success of Graham Carr at Newcastle. And yet which club did Carr formerly scout for? It only takes one guess.

And then there are the players. Another end-of-season reliable is that the current incumbents will get away virtually scot free while everyone else takes the rap. The squad at Spurs is supposedly the best for a generation. If Redknapp really did have so little to do with the previous fine form as one school of thought suggests, then it logically follows he is not responsible for the failures. If the players cannot motivate themselves for a push to secure a Champions League place, or overcome teams with demonstrably lesser players, then perhaps more questions need to be asked of those who actually step out on the pitch.

So what’s the whole truth? I don’t know and expect many of Redknapp’s critics don’t know either. How football clubs operate is largely opaque and murky, and definite conclusions are difficult to draw. It does seem that Redknapp’ Spurs career, England job or not, may have either run its course or reached a point where someone has a difficult decision to make.  The hope for Tottenham fans is that in the future Redknapp’s reign is looked back on as a progressive staging post on the path to success, rather than a brief spell in the sun or a case of a missed opportunity.

We should all hope it ends on a happy note, with Spurs proving that good management throughout the club can enable it to compete with the vastly superior resources of the Premier League’s wealthier guns. Fans might not like to hear their manager claim that their club is punching above its weight. Prices for season tickets suggest supporters are not getting full value, but put against the opposition Tottenham face and the financial means those sides can call on, it is at least worth acknowledging that Spurs are taking on and matching some pretty powerful opponents.

And if they fail, it is not even a question of apportioning blame. The manager, players, coaches and owners have given it a good go. It might not be quite good enough thus far, but Tottenham as a club is in a better position now than it was when Enic took over in 2001. Harry Redknapp has been one of the major players in that period of time since. He may not have been all good for Spurs but he certainly hasn’t been all bad.

Sports nostalgia books – ideal Christmas gifts

Among my new books on sale now are When Boxing Was Boxing – with a foreword by the great Barry McGuigan – and When Cricket Was Cricket.

Check out some of the reviews here

There’s also Those Were The Games written with Richard Havers. It’s a celebration of superb football match reports on the great games of yesteryear – the glorious and famous, the fascinating and pivotal, all beautifully scribed by a host of terrific reporters.

There’s more info on a whole range of other books here

Glenn Hoddle – The man who should have been England’s king

There’s a line in the film A Bronx Tale when Robert De Niro, playing a hard-working blue-collar character, tells his impressionable young son that “the saddest thing in life is wasted talent.” Sadder than that, perhaps, is under-appreciated talent. When someone so gifted, so blessed with genius in their particular field, is not given the opportunity to express the special skill they possess to the full, it’s a dispiriting and costly waste.

It’s a phenomenon that those who saw Glenn Hoddle in his playing prime will recognise. Hoddle was one of the best players of his generation – certainly in Britain, arguably in Europe and even beyond. He was a marvel. A player unlike any other in the old Football League, who utilised uncommon skill and imagination in a game burdened with players conspicuously lacking in both. The 1980s were a grim time for the English game in many respects, but Hoddle provided a regular, glorious glimmer of what the sport could provide.

I’m biased in taking that view. As a Tottenham fan I was lucky enough to see Hoddle play most weeks and privileged to see him in full flow. It’s why nearly 20 years on from when Hoddle hung up his boots Martin Cloake and I have made sure the King of White Hart Lane was one of the first people we featured in our ebooks series Spurs Shots, profiling the club’s best players.

The first in the series is on Danny Blanchflower, a true football original who was perhaps better acknowledged in his playing days than Hoddle was in his. That’s a running theme through the ebook and a reflection that this talent spurned was to English football’s enduring cost. A succession of managers, hindered by a cultural mistrust of flair and cowed by a fear of losing, failed to build the national side around Hoddle. Even after a decade of outstanding service at Spurs, he had to move on to France, a country where his talent was better understood and cherished.

There is much to celebrate about Hoddle. Martin and I hope readers will enjoy recalling Hoddle’s finest moments, from his man-of-the-match display in the 1981 FA Cup final to the succession of magnificent goals he scored.

We also believe that there’s a pertinent point to be made about modern football and Hoddle’s place in it. He was undervalued as a player, and mistakenly rejected as a manager. Amid the current agonising over the lack of quality and technique in English ranks from grassroots to top level, it’s a sobering reminder than when the nation did possess a player of genuine world-class talent it chose to marginalise him when it should have championed him. A great tactician, his managerial qualities are similarly spurned. And that really is a story of sad waste.

Glenn Hoddle – A Spurs Shot is available here

Danny Blanchflower – A Spurs Shot is available here

Any comments on the ebooks? Email us at adam@adampowley.com and martincloake@mac.com

Hillsborough: a time for truth and fans unity

Today Parliament will be discussing the 1989 Hillsborough disaster. The results of this debate will, hopefully, play a part in providing some kind of clarity for families still suffering as a consequence of English football’s grimmest day. It may also serve as a reminder to all football supporters that the tragedy of the terrible events 22 years ago still resonates and that fans of all clubs should share a desire for the full truth to finally emerge.

The House of Commons is debating the issue as a result of an online campaign. Over 140,000 people signed an ‘e-petition’ calling for ‘full government disclosure and publication of all documents’ stemming from events that lead to the death of 96 fans. The government has indeed said there will be full disclosure, first to an independent panel set up to look at the archive, and then to the victims’ families themselves.

It is unclear exactly what will be disclosed, in cabinet papers relating to what the then Thatcher government was saying and what it was being told by the force responsible for crowd control on the day, South Yorkshire Police. It was this body that was held accountable for the ‘immediate cause’ of the disaster in the subsequent reports of Lord Justice Taylor, a conclusion not shared by the official inquest, whose procedures and findings angered so many of the bereaved.

The lingering official muddying of responsibility is one good reason why continuing debate is vital. The suspicion of some, whispered and perpetuated ever since, is that it was the supporters who were responsible. At best this takes the form of qualified sympathy: ‘No one deserved to die, but…’; at worst it results in the continuing falsehood that the blame lies entirely with Liverpool fans who were variously ‘drunk’, and/or without tickets, thus causing the horrific crush that resulted in so many needless deaths.

The latter view is part of a piece with the risible claim, peddled by Kelvin Mackenzie in an infamous report in The Sun based on information from unnamed police sources, that drunken fans attacked police, urinated on one, and picked the pockets of the dying. More than 20 years on Mackenzie still refuses to atone for a callous and vicious lie that still hurts. Yet it reflects a general view among many – too many – people that the fans were the ones to blame.

I’m still having this conversation with fellow supporters. Trying to convince them that the Liverpool fans were not responsible. That the loss of life was not a consequence of ‘hooligan’-style behaviour but corporate failure on the part of police, Sheffield Wednesday FC and the city council. That with effective management and properly-enforced safety procedures and facilities, the deaths could have been avoided.

Fans – ordinary, decent, peaceful fans – drew their last breath that day through no fault of their own. I remember how football crowds used to be treated back then and recognise that I was lucky not to suffer the same fate. Many, many times I have been involved in dangerous crushes, mostly caused by a lack of adequate crowd control. One time in particular I genuinely feared for my life, as a number of Merseyside police officers corralled hundreds of fans into a tiny space at Edge Hill railway station. Such was the weight of people being pushed and even truncheoned by officers who had lost control that a panic spread among the fans. I couldn’t breathe; a woman next to me fainted. Only the sudden opening of a gate onto the station platform relieved the pressure.

Who knows what might have happened had the gate not opened? No one can say the police deliberately wanted to cause distress, injury and even worse, but their mismanagement and loss of control nearly ended in horror. At Hillsborough in 1989, the consequences of such failures were laid bare.

And as a Spurs fan, I always bear in mind that it was supporters of my own club who nearly suffered the fate of the Liverpool supporters. In 1981, Tottenham played an FA Cup semi final at the same stadium and the same errors in crowd control were made. Packed in at the Leppings Lane end, the pressure building as more and more fans were forced into a space too small to contain them, that dreadful sense of powerlessness began to spread around the Spurs crowd. In the end, some were able to spill on to the pitchside perimeter, and disaster was averted. But only just.

That’s why when I hear criticism of Liverpool fans from other supporters I have to strongly disagree. I ask them to read the Taylor reports, the fans’ websites, or the excellent reportage of the likes of David Conn, Nick Varley and Brian Reade in their respective books that deal with the disaster. Don’t take my word for it – see what the people who were actually there experienced, and what subsequent investigations have revealed.

There’s a running joke about Liverpudlians having such an over-developed sense of victimhood that they open a book of condolence for when Liverpool lose a game. Among some fans who hold that view there is a strong element of anti-Scouser bias. But Hillsborough is no place for prejudice. People died because people in authority did not do their jobs. All fans should recognise that if they went to a match during that era, it was simply the luck of a twisted draw that they did not suffer a similar fate.

That’s why I earnestly hope that the truth about what really happened in 1989 finally comes out, and that those responsible are held to account. If only for the sake of the grieving families, and to remind all fans of whatever hue, that fellow supporters were not to blame. Rivalry has its place in football but the campaign for justice for the 96 is an issue that should unify all fans.

This blog also appears at http://www.iaindale.com/posts/its-time-for-the-truth-on-hillsborough

Remember when boxing was king. . .?

One of my new books for the autumn is When Boxing Was Boxing. It follows in the same theme as the When… series (see the Haynes site for details). Drawing on magnificent photos from the Mirrorpix collection, When Boxing Was Boxing chronicles and conveys a century of the fight game, from ring legends to grassroots brawlers, gritty mean-street venues to the glitzy and glamorous arenas – at ringside and behind the scenes.

You can buy the book here; in the meantime I am grateful to Norman Giller, Fleet-Street great, sports historian, prolific author (90 books and counting), and boxing sage for the following kind words:

“I have hundreds of boxing books in my collection. This one matches any of them for content, design and nostalgia. I hate to use clichés, but this really is a knockout of a book that will keep boxing aficionados engrossed for hours. Author Adam Powley has added a compelling narrative, and the design team have given wonderful old photographs loving treatment that makes you almost feel and taste the era in which they were taken. If you know your boxing history, you will not be able to put the book down. If you don’t know your boxing history, this will educate, enlighten and entertain you. For me, the best of Adam’s When… series, and that is saying something, because his previous microscopic looks at the world of Football and Cricket are also must-reads for anybody who enjoys the history of sport.”

The English disease: indifference

In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s an England football game on tonight. A pretty important one at that, seeing as it’s a qualifier for next year’s European Championships. The trouble is, many of us haven’t noticed – and that says a whole lot about fans, England and the modern sport of football.

This match is no meaningless and intrusive friendly. There’s actual important stuff at stake. England need to win to maintain control of their group. Fabio Capello badly needs a victory as well to fend off his critics, and plenty of underperforming players need to produce good individual performances if they are to retain their places. But the level of disinterest in the fixture on the part of supporters is reaching the depths of apathy usually only seen in an election for Euro MPs. People just don’t seem to be that bothered any more.

I can’t say that for certain. There are probably upwards of 15 million bona fide football fans in Britain and plenty more with a passing interest in the fate of the national side. I haven’t spoken to every one of them to find out what they think, but judging by the comments of those I have, and what’s being said via social media, there’s barely anyone, even the most ardent England supporter, who is particularly animated by tonight’s match.

Some are hardcore club-before-country fans who have never given a fig for the national side. Others are actively giving it a miss due to some form of residual displeasure over what happened in South Africa last year. But most just seem to be bored with the whole thing.

It wasn’t always this way. Once upon a time the fate of the England side really mattered. The nation wouldn’t exactly grind to a halt for every match but there was a concerted and collective focus on what the team was getting up to. Up to 20 million, sometimes even more, would tune in to cheer and jeer them on.

Tonight’s viewing figures will be a small fraction of that. Partly because it’s on Sky, partly because – well, people have got better things to do. The relationship between England and English football fans has always been a complex and often fractured one but it now appears that the degree to which the England side has been marginalised is acute.

I’d suggest there are a number of reasons for this indifference. The lingering distaste for the antics of superstar footballers has tainted what good will there was (coloured by a resentment at how much these players earn and which club they play for), coupled with the vagaries of form that will always have an impact on how a team is viewed.

But the biggest factor in all this is the unstoppable rise of club football. The twin beasts of the Premier League and the Champions League have rendered the England football team an irrelevance – an awkward intrusion that mucks up the schedule and gets in the way of what is perceived as the really important stuff.

You only have to see the fevered reaction to the transfer window to see how the game has changed. Wild and reckless speculation about which club a player might move to has apparently become more interesting than if he gets picked to play for England or not. There’s now apparently live coverage of the conductor of Sky’s three-ring transfer circus, Jim White, arriving for work on ‘Deadline Day’. Football is truly eating itself.

A consequence is that international football as a whole has been consumed. Major tournaments have increasingly become shop windows for the big leagues around the world – a kind of beauty parade in which we can drool over some wonderkid from Argentina, not in the expectancy of what he’ll do for his country but which club he’ll get a transfer to. And as viewers we all know who this kid will be. There’s no mystery any more, thanks to saturation media coverage.

As for the media, it’s interesting to note that the national side still gets wall-to-wall coverage. That’s partly a practical thing: in the absence of domestic football there are pages and airtime to fill. But there’s a dogged, almost touching quality about the reams of words and comment on a subject that just isn’t as stimulating as it once was. I suspect that not many of us are reading or listening to it any more.

The irony about all this for England is that the Premier League was created for the specific benefit of the England national team. Back in the early 1990s, the idea was that the side would be at the apex of a new pyramid structure. Everything about football, from amateur grassroots to the professional top flight was to play its part in improving the prospects of the national team.

As we have seen with the almost comical displays of that side in the present, such hope has been a forlorn one, to the extent that many don’t even care any more. What’s that old adage about the time to really worry is when you’re ignored? It seems the Three Lions may have reached that point.

Book signing for When Cricket Was Cricket

I’ll be signing copies of my new book, When Cricket Was Cricket,  at the rather splendid Oval this Thursday. If you’re at the game, do please drop by for a lunchtime chinwag.