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The remarkable story of football on television
by Brian Barwick
Andre Deutsch, £18.99
Reviewed by Roger Titford
From WSC 321 November 2013

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There’s one memorable phrase in this book, describing the television pictures from the 1970 World Cup in Mexico as “blurred, almost like a watercolour painting caught in a rainstorm”. There are also a fair smattering of interesting or half-forgotten facts: only 12 matches were televised live at the 1966 World Cup finals, the term “route one” came from the show Quiz Ball, and there is a reminder that TV folk generally do not produce great works in print. Efforts by John Motson, Jeff Stelling and Barry Davies come to mind.

To give Brian Barwick his due, this is an intentionally lightweight account for the less well-informed and written in a matey journalese liberally splashed with exclamation marks. It is the complete opposite of a misery memoir – everyone has a wonderful time, are great friends and meet famous people. Andy Gray’s Sky career ends with an “alleged misdemeanour” and the ITV Digital fiasco of 2002 is glossed over in a single paragraph. The content is as uncontroversial and pro-establishment as a footballer’s autobiography of the 1950s. Those who would question the structure of the Champions League are dubbed “purists and romantics”. Such an approach is to be expected by a former chief executive of the FA and head of BBC and ITV Sport in a long and successful career which continues as a consultant.

Barwick’s story follows a fairly straightforward chronological path from the first TV pictures in 1936 to the present day and is certainly more colourful on the 20th century era in which he was personally involved. He reminds us of what happened with a mix of social history-lite and obvious landmark matches. But he ignores his unique opportunity to reveal the story of how it was done – how the techniques of football coverage have adapted, or not, to audience demands.

He does make a couple of points about how TV commentary has evolved into a conversation between commentator and pundit and how there now can be too many action replays for his taste, to which he regrettably adds the words “I digress”. Actually, this is potentially more interesting than a repetition of the value to Alex Ferguson of Mark Robins’s Cup-winner at Forest in 1990. And it is certainly more interesting than the semi-macho accounts of scraps between BBC and ITV staff when trying to get inconsequential post-match interviews as players come off the Wembley pitch.

Perhaps there is value in the anecdotes. Roy Kinnear gets mistaken for Joe Kinnear. Jimmy Hill gets to take sex symbol Raquel Welch to Chelsea. George Best nearly doesn’t turn up. After spending the morning at the British Grand Prix, Barwick flies by private plane to the World Cup final in Paris and gets locked in a stadium toilet while relieving himself of the champagne he drank on the way. My heart bleeds. Alas my sides do not ache. Maybe they are the kind of stories where you had to be there rather than just sitting at home watching TV.

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Travels through England’s football provinces
by Daniel Gray
Bloomsbury, £12.99
Reviewed by Charles Robinson
From WSC 321 November 2013

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The ravaged post-industrial landscape of provincial England, with its boarded-up shops and disused factories, speaks of a working-class culture decimated by Thatcherism and modernism. Are we left with an endless hell of Nando’s, pound shops and Westfield shopping centres stretching the length and breadth of the land? Yes, in a way, answers Daniel Gray, author of Hatters, Railwaymen And Knitters, his superlative new book. But there’s hope in the oft-ignored footballing backwaters. Seeking to rediscover England and “Englishness” without attempting some sociological definition of it, Gray visits football grounds and their attendant communities in the hope of finding some commonality, some communalism, in this “alien, uncomfortable England”. He finds it – sometimes.

Gray starts his travels in the comfortable environs of home, Middlesbrough, and thus begins a search for identity, something once found easily at Ayresome Park thanks partly to two childhood friends, the threesome hunting for the autographs of players and staff they often don’t even recognise. From here we move on to Ipswich, Luton, Crewe, Burnley, Carlisle and beyond as Gray searches for the essence of English football.

Gray’s search is constantly, by turns, furthered and frustrated by contradictions and paradoxes. In Luton, the surfeit of white faces and offensive chants of the Kenilworth Road crowd reflect the “segregation and suspicion” of the town itself, despite the vibrancy and ethnic diversity of its markets and sports clubs. There’s a way forward here, Gray suggests, towards a more tolerant, inclusive and engaged community. A self-confessed reluctant patriot and leftie, Gray attempts to find the best in everything despite his occasional misgivings. It’s OK to believe in England and English football, seems to be the message. This is despite the fact that Luton is the original home of the English Defence League, formerly known as the United Peoples of Luton.

Gray, thankfully, eschews the Premier League and heads straight for the smaller towns and cities that contributed so much to the Industrial Revolution, with poverty and injustice pervading almost every chapter. The story of Luton’s Peace Day Riots of 1919, in which the town hall was burned down, is told with an historian’s eye for detail and context. The hardships of the workers in the factories and mills of Bradford and Burnley are also beautifully related, leading the assumption, or prejudice, as Gray admits, that football existed, and still exists, as a “working-class release valve”.

This prejudice is destroyed in part by a visit to Chester, home of a community-owned club in a prosperous part of England. Football can still surprise and the final chapter takes in a non-League game in Newquay, in which the barman safeguards Gray’s half-drunk pint until he reappears at half time to finish it.

While cynical and critical, the book is beautifully written; pessimistic and damning, yet joyful and full of love for the game. Gray’s journey is a personal search for the soul of English football but it’s one that we can all deeply sympathise with in this age of mass consumption and soulless plastic bowl stadiums. The reality remains of football offering, in the words of JB Priestley, a “more splendid form of life”. Daniel Gray’s wonderful book is proof of that.

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Archaeologists rarely take an interest in old football grounds but Peel Park, the former home of Accrington Stanley, has proved to be quite a treasure trove. Rick Peterson investigates

The idea began when Howard Booth, a producer at BBC Sport North West, suggested Dr Dave Robinson and I should “do a Time Team” (his words not mine – other fieldwork-based archaeology programmes are available) at Peel Park, Accrington Stanley’s home from 1919 until 1964. The middle of the 20th century may seem slightly too recent a period to interest archaeologists. However, archaeology is the study of the past through its material remains and we don’t have to confine ourselves to the remote ages of pre-history.

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As Huddersfield’s unbeaten record comes to an end, Steve Wilson looks ahead to the second half of the season

On Radio 5 Live’s Monday Night Club, Neil Clement had only enough time for one leading question to Huddersfield Town manager Lee Clark about the club’s unbeaten run in the league that stretched back to December 28 last year. “Is it actually a distraction you could do without?” he probed. A mixture of confusion and mild disdain coloured Clark’s response. “No,” he said, not unreasonably. “If it carries on for the rest of the season, I’m pretty sure we’ll go up.”

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Steve Davies says that dividing TV deals unequally would make football less competitive but it could also be a legal minefield

Ian Ayre, the managing director of Liverpool, quickly qualified his reported assertion that his club should sell its own overseas TV rights and keep the income. He now says he meant that they should be sold collectively but the income divided on the basis of a team’s popularity, in terms of the number of times their games are featured. Clearly he was under pressure to modify his stance, given that even the other clubs who could have benefited from the move were against it. When Ayre heard Chelsea chairman Bruce Buck condemning his plan he must have realised he was on his own.

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