Slipperduke
The Camden Cad
There is a computer game in existence that, I’m afraid to admit, has cost me around 15 years of my life. It’s called Football Manager and I’ve owned every incarnation of it since 1993. It’s a wonderful way to waste time, it really is. You pick your club, assemble your players, choose a formation and then watch as the computer simulates the outcome. Unfortunately, it relies upon the simple premise of treating individuals as mere collections of numbers, simple statistics to be shunted around. In Football Manager, you can just throw some players together and watch them follow your instructions. If it’s not working out, you just buy some better players. Sadly, in real life, football is a bit more complicated.
I don’t whether Newcastle owner Mike Ashley ever played the game, but the way that he’s gone about his short period at St James Park suggests that he might have done. He certainly has the same blasé approach to dealing with his personnel. Sam Allardyce not exciting enough for you? Just click ‘terminate contract’. Who cares that the season’s only halfway to completion? Surely it’s just a case of throwing a fan’s favourite into the equation? He’ll get them motivated! Just click ‘hire Keegan’. It’s all a case of identifying the right components and flinging them together. That’s the key to success in Football Manager.
What Ashley has failed to realise is that the off-the-pitch upheaval that comes with sweeping change may not upset computer-generated footballers, but it absolutely annihilates the confidence of human beings. Some of these players are highly-strung, egocentric individuals. Some of them are level-headed, balanced athletes. They need a leader who understands the difference and has time to learn how to manage them. They need stability and a chance to settle into a routine that will allow them to perform. They don’t need to have three different bosses in under a year and they certainly don’t need to see their new leader immediately undermined by the appointment of a rival.
The most disturbing sight during Newcastle’s heavy defeat at Villa Park was not Cacapa’s inability to deal with crosses, it was the pictures of Dennis Wise in the Director’s Box, peering down at the melee on the pitch. Wise led Millwall to the FA Cup Final and his departure from The New Den was the spark the precipitated the collapse of the team. He wasn’t able to keep Leeds United in the second flight, but he’d made a good fist of getting them back. In short, he’s a prospect. An upwardly mobile football man. As if it wasn’t enough to have just Alan Shearer prowling in the shadows, Ashley has inadvertently got Wise doing the same thing.
Avram Grant, David Pleat, Velimir Zajec and even Harry Redknapp have all been appointed as Directors of Football in the past and they’ve all ended up in the dug-out a little while later. Appointing another football manager as the link between the chairman and the playing staff is lunacy. Chairman don’t always understand the intricacies of the game, so whenever their team loses, instead of asking the manager what happened, they ask the Director of Football and get a detailed explanation of what went wrong. After a while, particularly in poor runs of form, the contrast between the frustrated manager and this approachable, canny linkman becomes too stark and the inevitable happens.
Fans know this, managers know this and most of all, footballers know this. In fact, the only people who aren’t aware are the chairmen who continue to execute such a gormless strategy.
“But the top Spanish clubs do it,” argue the moneymen.
Well, yes. Yes, they do. But the top Spanish clubs also get through three or four managers a season and have a tendency to sack them even when they’ve just won the title.
Newcastle are dangerously close to being sucked into the relegation battle. They need four wins in twelve games, which doesn’t sound that simple anymore. Kevin Keegan is doing his best, frantically trying to lift a group of players who don’t know if it’s even worth trying to get on the right side of him. Keegan needs help and support, but all he’s got is uncertainty. I was under the impression that Wise’s remit was to find promising young players from the lower leagues and abroad. If that’s the case, what was he doing at Villa Park? If we’re confused, just imagine how Keegan feels about it all.
If Ashley is going to turn Newcastle around, he’s got to realise that football isn’t just a game. It’s real life.
I don’t whether Newcastle owner Mike Ashley ever played the game, but the way that he’s gone about his short period at St James Park suggests that he might have done. He certainly has the same blasé approach to dealing with his personnel. Sam Allardyce not exciting enough for you? Just click ‘terminate contract’. Who cares that the season’s only halfway to completion? Surely it’s just a case of throwing a fan’s favourite into the equation? He’ll get them motivated! Just click ‘hire Keegan’. It’s all a case of identifying the right components and flinging them together. That’s the key to success in Football Manager.
What Ashley has failed to realise is that the off-the-pitch upheaval that comes with sweeping change may not upset computer-generated footballers, but it absolutely annihilates the confidence of human beings. Some of these players are highly-strung, egocentric individuals. Some of them are level-headed, balanced athletes. They need a leader who understands the difference and has time to learn how to manage them. They need stability and a chance to settle into a routine that will allow them to perform. They don’t need to have three different bosses in under a year and they certainly don’t need to see their new leader immediately undermined by the appointment of a rival.
The most disturbing sight during Newcastle’s heavy defeat at Villa Park was not Cacapa’s inability to deal with crosses, it was the pictures of Dennis Wise in the Director’s Box, peering down at the melee on the pitch. Wise led Millwall to the FA Cup Final and his departure from The New Den was the spark the precipitated the collapse of the team. He wasn’t able to keep Leeds United in the second flight, but he’d made a good fist of getting them back. In short, he’s a prospect. An upwardly mobile football man. As if it wasn’t enough to have just Alan Shearer prowling in the shadows, Ashley has inadvertently got Wise doing the same thing.
Avram Grant, David Pleat, Velimir Zajec and even Harry Redknapp have all been appointed as Directors of Football in the past and they’ve all ended up in the dug-out a little while later. Appointing another football manager as the link between the chairman and the playing staff is lunacy. Chairman don’t always understand the intricacies of the game, so whenever their team loses, instead of asking the manager what happened, they ask the Director of Football and get a detailed explanation of what went wrong. After a while, particularly in poor runs of form, the contrast between the frustrated manager and this approachable, canny linkman becomes too stark and the inevitable happens.
Fans know this, managers know this and most of all, footballers know this. In fact, the only people who aren’t aware are the chairmen who continue to execute such a gormless strategy.
“But the top Spanish clubs do it,” argue the moneymen.
Well, yes. Yes, they do. But the top Spanish clubs also get through three or four managers a season and have a tendency to sack them even when they’ve just won the title.
Newcastle are dangerously close to being sucked into the relegation battle. They need four wins in twelve games, which doesn’t sound that simple anymore. Kevin Keegan is doing his best, frantically trying to lift a group of players who don’t know if it’s even worth trying to get on the right side of him. Keegan needs help and support, but all he’s got is uncertainty. I was under the impression that Wise’s remit was to find promising young players from the lower leagues and abroad. If that’s the case, what was he doing at Villa Park? If we’re confused, just imagine how Keegan feels about it all.
If Ashley is going to turn Newcastle around, he’s got to realise that football isn’t just a game. It’s real life.
