Slipperduke
The Camden Cad
At opposite ends of the country, two ill-fated and short-lived eras are coming to an end. In East London, the unintentionally hilarious reign of Bjorgolfur Gudmundsson is already over. In Newcastle, Mike Ashley has desperately slapped a GBP100m price tag on the front of St James Park in the hope of attracting an escape route. It's a stark warning to anyone out there still silly enough to want to invest in an English football club.
The gold rush is over. In fact, it's been over for quite some time. When Roman Abramovich rescued Chelsea from meltdown in 2003, things were very different. Back then, Arsenal and Manchester United ruled the roost but beneath them it was wide open. In the four years preceding the Russian's arrival, Leeds, Liverpool, Chelsea and Newcastle had joined the two giants in the top four while Ipswich, Aston Villa and Blackburn all came within a couple of wins of making it themselves. In the last four years, Chelsea and Liverpool have completed an unbreakable quadropoly, a private party of wealth and glamour that, with the exception of the lasagna-addled Tottenham side of 2006, no-one has even come close to gatecrashing.
Ashley and Gudmundsson could tell you a bit about Premier League football now. They could tell you how difficult it is to attract quality players to the club if you're outside of those Champions League places. Ashley's solution was to buy cut-price chancers from the La Liga like the hopelessly inadequate Xisco. Gudmundsson's was to throw ludicrous piles of money at broken down former starlets like Kieron Dyer or Freddy Ljungberg, or to 'borrow' a couple of world class players. Neither plan was particularly successful. The more sensible solution is to be patient and slowly build a team over an extended period of time. Randy Lerner and Bill Kenwright have both opted for this strategy at Aston Villa and Everton, but it's not without its drawbacks. Villa in particular have spent heavily, but the rewards are scant. The unwanted treadmill of UEFA Cup football is only a distraction if you're trying to finish fourth. And then there's Manchester City who have so much money that they don't know what to do with it, a diagnosis proven by their purchase of Craig Bellamy. With Mark Hughes trying to build a side the old-fashioned way and CEO Gary Cook trying to push 'marquee' signings into his dressing room, we can all see how that will pan out.
If anyone is ever going to break into that top four it will be because one of the elite has imploded, but they're all operating with crazy debts precisely for that reason. They don't want to offer a glimmer of hope to anyone beneath them. It's a high-stakes game of poker up there and clubs like Everton and Villa can't even afford the ante.
In a few weeks, we'll all be reading the dim-witted platitudes of yet another new owner of Newcastle United, doubtless prophesising a swift return to the top flight and then a tilt at glory. West Ham's new chairman Andrew Bernhardt has been careful not to promise anything apart from 'sensible budgeting'. Perhaps he is the first man to take over an English club in years who actually knows how dire the situation is. Success? Glory? Champions League football? No chance.
The gold rush is over. In fact, it's been over for quite some time. When Roman Abramovich rescued Chelsea from meltdown in 2003, things were very different. Back then, Arsenal and Manchester United ruled the roost but beneath them it was wide open. In the four years preceding the Russian's arrival, Leeds, Liverpool, Chelsea and Newcastle had joined the two giants in the top four while Ipswich, Aston Villa and Blackburn all came within a couple of wins of making it themselves. In the last four years, Chelsea and Liverpool have completed an unbreakable quadropoly, a private party of wealth and glamour that, with the exception of the lasagna-addled Tottenham side of 2006, no-one has even come close to gatecrashing.
Ashley and Gudmundsson could tell you a bit about Premier League football now. They could tell you how difficult it is to attract quality players to the club if you're outside of those Champions League places. Ashley's solution was to buy cut-price chancers from the La Liga like the hopelessly inadequate Xisco. Gudmundsson's was to throw ludicrous piles of money at broken down former starlets like Kieron Dyer or Freddy Ljungberg, or to 'borrow' a couple of world class players. Neither plan was particularly successful. The more sensible solution is to be patient and slowly build a team over an extended period of time. Randy Lerner and Bill Kenwright have both opted for this strategy at Aston Villa and Everton, but it's not without its drawbacks. Villa in particular have spent heavily, but the rewards are scant. The unwanted treadmill of UEFA Cup football is only a distraction if you're trying to finish fourth. And then there's Manchester City who have so much money that they don't know what to do with it, a diagnosis proven by their purchase of Craig Bellamy. With Mark Hughes trying to build a side the old-fashioned way and CEO Gary Cook trying to push 'marquee' signings into his dressing room, we can all see how that will pan out.
If anyone is ever going to break into that top four it will be because one of the elite has imploded, but they're all operating with crazy debts precisely for that reason. They don't want to offer a glimmer of hope to anyone beneath them. It's a high-stakes game of poker up there and clubs like Everton and Villa can't even afford the ante.
In a few weeks, we'll all be reading the dim-witted platitudes of yet another new owner of Newcastle United, doubtless prophesising a swift return to the top flight and then a tilt at glory. West Ham's new chairman Andrew Bernhardt has been careful not to promise anything apart from 'sensible budgeting'. Perhaps he is the first man to take over an English club in years who actually knows how dire the situation is. Success? Glory? Champions League football? No chance.
