10 August ~ Nation states are the result of wars, intrigues, marriage, propaganda, blackmail, lies and deception,” wrote former German cabinet minister Norbert Blum in the Süddeutsche Zeitung newspaper yesterday in a column headed Nationalism Equals Idiocy.
Football’s journey through the English media
by Roger Domeneghetti
Ockley Books, £12.99
Reviewed by Tom Davies
From WSC 339 May 2015
We are frequently told that both the media and football have become distortingly all-pervasive, so a history of the relationship between the two would appear long overdue. In this exhaustively well-researched book Roger Domeneghetti delves deeply not just into the earliest histories of both but into what initially seem like diversionary tangents – betting, gaming and comic strips. If these are occasionally longer than they need to be, they do at least fit the author’s wider, convincing narrative of mutual interdependence.
Tracing this many-tentacled history, from the newspaper boom in the late 19th century through to the Premier League, Sky and Twitter, it is obvious how football and the media industry have always fed off each other. We may rail against kick-off times being switched at the behest of TV companies but the “traditional” Saturday 3pm start is rooted in media demands. Regional newspapers in the late 1800s required standardised kick-off times to suit Saturday evening edition deadlines. Into the 20th century, early newsreels looked to play up talking points and personalities. Sport drove radio sales and provided events for the newly established BBC to build itself around.
A common theme is the authorities’ inability to prevent themselves being outwitted, or to protect the game’s wider interests. From the wrangling with the BBC that obstructed the broadcast of inter-war Cup finals to the way the FA allowed themselves to be outflanked by the TV companies and Premier League, wearily familiar shortcomings persist.
The BBC’s agreement to pay the FA £1,000 to broadcast the 1953 FA Cup final “set the template for football coverage to this day”, not least in investing the “Matthews final” with symbolism. Competition between broadcasters changed the game again: “If the football authorities were unclear as to how exactly their relationship with television should develop, neither the BBC nor their rivals had any such doubts,” writes Domeneghetti.
The chapter on the development of newspaper journalism sheds light on the changing status of players and their relationship with reporters, as well as on the way those papers have altered, with the expansion of broadsheet coverage flattening their distinction with the red tops; writers move between both with increasing frequency. Fanzines are also given their due for changing how football was written about in the mainstream.
Domeneghetti is a press box regular himself and writes about football for the Morning Star, so as might be expected a strong social-political context frames his narrative. This, and a breezy conversational style, ensures that the dominant perspective here is that of the ordinary fan/reader/viewer. Media-analyst business-speak is thankfully lacking.
Of course we end on blogs and social media, which have given both fans and players more of a voice while posing challenges to the traditional industry. “The process of becoming a football writer’s become more democratised,” Jonathan Wilson points out here, yet making a living from it becomes ever more precarious. The contention that football is central to new media might be overstated, but not by much, though the deaths of various sectors (radio, newspapers) have been predicted many times, and not always accurately. Instead, they’ve muddled through, much like clubs themselves.
Why everything you know about football is wrong
by Chris Anderson and David Sally
Viking, £12.99
Reviewed by Barney Ronay
From WSC 318 August 2013
This book didn’t have an easy start in life. At first glance, and for the first 100 pages or so, it is hard to look beyond the instant wrong turn, the unhesitating literary hari-kari, of that terrible title. Yes. Everything you know about football is wrong. Everything. Wrong. All of it. Presumably this includes all the bits you may have picked up from reading Soccernomics and its imitators, not to mention the many articles, columns and blogs to have addressed already the central conceit of The Numbers Game – the idea that football is a sport still mummified by cliche, folk wisdom and superstition; and that it is only via the forensic scalpel of the insistent academic outsider that this tapestry of mediaeval idiocy can be swished away to reveal The Truth beneath.
It is an approach that speaks very clearly to the way football is now consumed, a sport that has long since evolved at its top level into a sprawlingly incontinent mass media event. To be interested in football is not so much to support a team, to seek the connections and consolations of old-school fandom, as to enter an ongoing and irresolvable mass argument. True understanding can only be reached through wider reading, more zingily up-to-date stats. So much so that at times modern football appears to be less a form of entertainment as a kind of strident shared academic discipline, a mob-handed codification of the pub bore dynamic, and the idea that what is important in all this is to be right.
If The Numbers Game suffers at points from the fact that it must gear itself towards its natural readership, the winning-an-argument-at-work group, then there is also a fascinating and highly readable book in here. The authors Chris Anderson and David Sally are described as “a football statistics guru” and “a baseball pitcher turned behavioural economist” (aren’t we all darling) and together they have some interesting and original arguments to make, expertly illustrated with stats, graphs and a broad sphere of reference.
This is essentially a book about “the inner truth” of football’s numbers, albeit the attempt to stretch this into an absolute truth is at times a little gauche. Why don’t all teams attempt to perfect the long throw, given its statistical success, the book demands, suggesting an obsession with aesthetics and “beauty” is behind this omission, when in fact it is as much to do with the more tangible tactical demands of rhythm and speed, a coherent and non-wishy-washy requirement for quicker, less random restarts. Barcelona can also produce some pretty convincing stats on this point.
Quibbles aside The Numbers Game is an illuminating experience, with some excellent passages – the Darren Bent analysis (surprisingly effective) is fascinating, as is the deconstruction of Chelsea’s hire and fire policy. And if there is some unintentional humour in the recurrent deification of the “heroic” Roberto Martínez – everything I know about football may be wrong but I do know that Wigan have since been relegated – then this is simply a reminder that football remains a game where the numbers, like the rest of us, must follow at one remove.
Manchester United are about to be floated on Singapore’s stock exchange. Ashley Shaw explores the motives behind the move.Having suffered jibes that they are the “Pride of Singapore” for several years now, the news that Manchester United are to be floated on that country’s stock exchange would seem to be entirely appropriate. Mystery surrounds the precise sums involved in the supposed IPO (initial public offering) and the move seems to have baffled the financial press. Some are asking whether having won four titles out of five and reached three Champion League finals in five years, the Glazers believe the club have reached a peak. There are also suggestions that they have been tipped the wink about Sir Alex Ferguson’s imminent departure. But it may simply be that they are once again looking to milk more from the United cash cow.
Of particular interest to supporters is the final destination of these funds. This summer Liverpool and Manchester City spent fortunes in the transfer market, with City in particular seemingly able to lure United’s transfer targets with huge salaries. So fans are entitled to wonder if some of this money will be used to strengthen a squad now containing young, promising but as yet unproven talent.
The initial answer would appear to be no and that the windfall could be used to pay down a portion of the £400 million debt that costs the club £45m a year to finance. Then there is the question of the £250m “acquired” from as yet unknown sources to pay off the high-interest PIK (payment in kind) notes last year and the ailing nature of the Floridians’ other businesses, which has led some to suggest that the funds may be earmarked for “personal profits”.
Optimists may point to this being the beginning of a long exit strategy for the owners and, of course, any flotation weakens the Glazers’ hold on to the club to a degree. Learning from the failures of United’s last period of public ownership, fan groups are already talking up the possibility of buying a stake, even if the £2 billion valuation of the club may make that prohibitive. At the very least, any flotation would also lead to higher standards of transparency and the prospect of holding some sharper Glazer practices to account.
It is clear, however, that supporters have had an impact on the way the Glazers run the club. There’s little doubt that the “green and gold” campaign affected their strategies – prior to the protests they seemed hell-bent on double-digit ticket-price rises and taking profits as and when they saw fit.
Ever since the furore surrounding the bond prospectus, the Glazers seem more interested in placating fans, whether by freezing prices or being seen to act in a more conciliatory fashion.And while they have steered clear of selling stadium-naming rights, they have sought to sell advertising and/or corporate space on just about every other asset the club owns. It remains to be seen whether this constitutes good business or financial desperation.
The restraints on the manager remain. The club have slashed the players’ salary bill by £10m. Research by Andersred (andersred.blogspot.com) claims that the departures of Wes Brown, John O’Shea, Gary Neville, Edwin van der Sar, Paul Scholes and Owen Hargreaves, and their replacement by Phil Jones, David de Gea and Ashley Young, means a net saving of £205,000 a week. In an era when Manchester City, in particular, are intent on buying success by offering eye-watering salaries, United’s stance should be lauded. But the fear remains that a lack of quality in the squad will tell over the course of the season.
Despite almost identical, emphatic starts to the season, the contrast between the local rivals could not be greater. City look like a club in a desperate hurry, with pressure beginning to be exerted from the top and UEFA’s Financial Fair Play rules forgotten in the rush for trophies. United would normally sit this season out; they are team clearly in transition with a new goalkeeper, defence and midfield to accommodate, and it remains to be seen if their free-scoring start is illusory.
Nevertheless, the fact that the manager continues to deliver, regardless of the considerable financial obstacles put in his way, remains one of the more remarkable stories in recent football history.
From WSC 296 October 2011
Cameron Carter traces the social history of Britain through 25 years of friendly faces presenting football programmes on TVIn 1986 presenters and pundits sat stiffly, in wife-selected jackets, behind desks, because the desk is the key western symbol of wisdom. In 2011 we have lounging gigglers like Alan Hansen and Mark Lawrenson who do not even wear neckties, or the man-child Jamie Redknapp who is allowed to wear expensive fashion-clothes and constantly interrupt his elders in a career-long attempt to prove his right to be heard. The desk has gone.