Monday, August 18, 2014

What's the difference between a coach and a manager?

What’s the difference between a manager and a coach? In the chaotic world of professional football, it’s probably little more than semantics, certainly the definitions seem to have been blurred since he good old days when the manager wore a sheepskin coat and the coach was a wiry bald man in a tight tracksuit.

The concept of the ‘head coach’ is an affectation of the modern game. A reaction against the omnipotent management tradition styled by the likes of Brian Clough and Sir Alex Ferguson. It’s a message from the owners that says; ‘you may be the one in the limelight, but I run this schizzle’.

The head coach is quite exotic, a hipster move, something foreigners do. But, like many things adopted by Britain from abroad, it’s not taken on wholesale. Much as we admire the German approach, we’re still fond of our despotic owners. When things are going wrong, fans call for ‘someone’ to come in spend money - it’s rare you hear them calling for the club to be run as a not-for-profit democracy.

So, there is almost certainly no consensus on the difference between the two and perhaps it doesn’t really matter. Perhaps, but perhaps not, because if you do confuse the two, then how do you know you’ve got the right people running your team in the right way?

By definition, the coach is there to develop players. It is a positive, nurturing role; taking players to their full potential. As such, it’s fairly easy to be the good guy. In fact, it’s pretty important that you are the good guy if the players are going to respond to the things you want them to do.

The manager, however, is almost the opposite. Within his arsenal has to be the ability to be the bad guy, he has to make decisions which are not always popular - scratch that, no decision is popular. Every decision will upset someone; players, fans, owners or media. He has to earn empathy and respect, but he needs mental robustness to resist criticism and the emotional detachment to remain objective. In a world where ex-players continually lament the banter and camaraderie of the dressing room over almost everything else the game offers, the idea that you might want to move into a role where you are almost always going to be disliked by someone can’t be for many.

So, like anyone in a senior role, a football manager, to be successful, has to be a sociopath. And this could be after a career where the idea of the individual is beaten out of you. Of course, many coaches are considered for managerial roles because they are amiable and they do the right things playing football the right way. They follow the textbook, which sounds just great if you’re an owner.

We’ve had a few managers who were good coaches; by all accounts Graham Rix was an excellent coach, David Kemp’s career in the Premier League shows that he was a much better coach than manager. Ian Atkins and Chris Wilder were very good managers, as was Jim Smith who always needed a very good coach to make things work. It doesn’t stand to reason that a good coach makes a good manager, or that a good manager makes a good coach. So you interchange them at your peril.

When Danny Hylton slotted home the equaliser at Mansfield on Saturday, it seemed like we might have escaped with a barely-deserved draw. The first reaction of the players was to get the ball from the back of the net in order to hurry up the restart. We did the right thing by the fans, and the spirit of football, and we went for the three points.

But, having suffered a home defeat on the opening day and with a gift of an away point eleven minutes away, is going for the win the right thing to do? Or, given the nervousness that comes with being one of the handful of teams without a point, should it be time to shut up shop?

His decision was a coach’s decision, not a managerial one. The coach goes for the win; sticks to the principles of the game, does the right thing. The manager recognises the value of an away point which settles everyone and puts us amongst the pack.

Perhaps it illustrates an inability to operate in the managerial role. We don’t know whether that’s a permanent thing or whether he will gain a managerial mindset. Let’s face it, his previous roles have hardly given him scope to spread his wings. Securing points by any means is one of his easier decisions. As the season progresses, things get harder - there will be decisions about playing injured players, rushing them back to do a short-term job, he may look at fixtures and decide they’re worthy of sacrifice because of more significant jobs coming up. Then there are the habits, bad or otherwise, that players begin to adopt. He will need to develop some of those habits, but he will need to suppress others. He may also need to make decisions about players who are good and decent people - players he perhaps brought in - who will need replacing. In short, the job will get dirtier.

Partly, this is about Appleton’s ability, but it’s also about the strategy of the football club. Is Appleton’s role to be the manager? To make tough and unpleasant decisions? Or is he the coach? To develop players’ technical ability? Do we know what a head coach is supposed to do? To date, it’s not clear. While the single point of failure concept that operated for most of Chris Wilder’s reign is not desirable, we currently have a gap in ability which needs filling, or developing, quickly.

Thursday, August 14, 2014

A refreshing change

The first round of the League Cup is perhaps the weirdest game of the season. Few clubs involved harbour genuine ambition of going far in the competition and you have to go fairly deep into it (or get very lucky) before you draw a genuine money-spinning tie. So, in that sense, it seems obvious to rest first-teamers and give fringe players a leg stretcher.

On the other hand, we’re just three days into the new season and players are still looking for rhythm and sharpness. With just one competitive game under their belts its also difficult to know whether you’re on or off form.

The manager doesn’t have the benefit of half a season to assess under what kind of threat their job might be under. Cup runs can offer a respite from the pressure of the league and sustain, if not save, people’s jobs. But the manager can’t tell after one game whether what he has at his disposal is a team shooting for promotion or fighting relegation. This, ultimately, defines how important or otherwise the cups are.

Then, of course, there’s your opponent, who is in much the same position. Bristol City, for example, had a good opening away win in the league and stand 5th in League 1 after just one game. They are in the promotion race but by next Sunday could be in the relegation zone, by the end of the season they could be facing League 2 football and we will face them as peers. That’s what happened with Bristol Rovers in 2010.

So, it's difficult to know just how good a League Cup win is. Particularly if you add the conundrum about whether or not they are taking the competition seriously and playing a full-strength team.

What is of little doubt, however, is that we really needed that win. We are on a venture into the unknown, with a new manager and several new players, plus some brow beaten and skeptical fans. The league hasn’t been kind to us with few games coming up that you might confidently hope for some points. A few barren weeks could be catastrophic to morale. As they say, you may not be able to win the league at this stage in the season, but you can lose it. While winning the league might be beyond us, we surely need some early success if we’re going to have a good season - however that might be defined.

In particular, a goal for Morris seemed essential. He has no experience or track record and a barren spell is likely to be damaging to his confidence. For all his outward confidence, he doesn't know whether he can cut it in senior football and going out on loan must be unnerving; it doesn't exactly scream confidence from your manager that your breakthrough is imminent. He also looks like a player who needs confidence to perform. Historically big target men like Paul Moody and Steve Anthrobus need good and plentiful supply to get goals. They don’t create goals themselves (Paul Moody’s solo goal against Cardiff in 94 aside, perhaps). So if the supply dries up, then so do the goals and confidence. And then to complete the vicious cycle, players around him lose confidence and try to work around the target man, not through him, to find success. If you add in the weight of expectation that might occur given that he’s wearing James Constable’s shirt, an early goal of whatever nature, seems essential.

One swallow doesn't make a summer, but a win is a win. While the context is difficult to judge, whether we’re playing a full-strength team destined for promotion to the Championship or an understrength team in free fall to League 2; or any combination of those two extremes, there can be few that will argue that we needed that.

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose

The new season often looks unfamiliar. Fans look refreshed, new shirts are worn, people are in shorts. Pitches are a lush, deep, green colour; benefiting from a couple of months loving preparation rather than the usual 48 hours of intense forking and watering.

There is a buzz of anticipation because months of football deprivation play tricks on the mind. We begin to believe that we cannot fail, forgetting that every other team is similarly preparing and determined to succeed.

In the stands, the singing area worked to a point; I suppose when you put yourself in a singing area there is an obligation, of sorts, to sing. During the first half it was noisy and vocal, although it couldn't be sustained. Expected, given the energy needed to sustain 90 minutes of noise and the result on the day.

On the pitch, players look leaner; hair cuts are sharp, Alfie Potter's beard seems to have become more proportionate to his face. Danny Rose looks like he's been taking some miracle dietary substitute you see advertised on Facebook, his tan looks like he's been attacked by a creosote spray. The players who last year looked like children, look like men, like they'd grown into proper footballers over the summer. The football is technically better - at least for a little bit. And, of course, there are new signings which I can't tell one from another.

On the touchline the familiar questionable tracksuits of Chris Wilder (frankly, I can't remember what Gary Waddock wore) were replaced by the suited Michael Appleton. Mickey Lewis was barely visible barreling around the technical area.

Nothing was more different than in the executive box. It was rammed full of suits wearing those garish yellow club ties. Some people I recognised, most I didn't. There were wives, girlfriends  looking like a lost wedding party. Some were self-consciously wearing Oxford scarfs which you suspect had been hastily purchased for the occasion. Were they investors? Officials? Or were they simply the family and friends of new regime offering moral support and coming to admire the owners' new toy? Where did they all come from? And, will they still be here in November?

The area was so full that when Burton rolled in their winner just before half time, the phalanx Burton suits rose as one in their seats, not on the front row of the box as is usually the case, but about 20 seats to the left towards the open end. They seemed to have been ousted by the hangers on.

Nathan Cooper reinforced the sense of renewal by announcing the arrival of the players with a bellow of 'A new era'.  Things were different, of that there's no doubt.

Different until a ball was kicked, that is. Then there was a distinct familiarity about it all - decent shape, good passing, no urgency and no goal threat. As a bloke near me said 'we won't concede many, but we'll score even less' which, by any measure, is a withering assessment.

Even after we fell behind and the game ticked past the hour there was no change of plan. We remained pathologically averse to crossing the ball.

Channel 4 once briefly ran a series called the Sex Inspectors where a couple of self-styled er, 'sex inspectors' would try solve the problems of couples whose sex lives were damaging their wider relationship. In one episode a couple had become consumed with role play, sex toys and dressing up. 

The programme's hook was for the experts to watch the couple in action and commentate on what was going on. If that sounds like fun, believe me it wasn't. In this one episode, the bloke spent 25 minutes meticulously lacing up his girlfriend's corset. It was all part of their 'game'. She was pulled and yanked about and told off for not standing still until she got bored and cold. His obsession with dressing her up in 'the right way' meant he completely overlooked the objective of actually having sex with her.

That was us on Saturday; we were so obsessed with shape and technique that we'd forgotten to score any goals. Even into injury-time nobody was prepared to launch the ball into the box in one last attempt to salvage something. I don't remember if the bloke and his girlfriend ended up launching the ball into the box to salvage something.

But, fans on the phone-in purred with appreciative sympathy. The ubiquitous 'Dougie', who might be one person, or perhaps, like Dr Who, lots of different people being a single character, carefully re-wrote history by claiming that Wilder and Lenagan would have come on and given excuses. To my mind Appleton's assessment of us dominating was way off the mark, not an excuse, but misleading nonetheless. We were just compliant in failure.

Some of this is politeness towards the new regime, and nobody is suggesting that Appleton shouldn't be given time, but a tame home defeat to Burton is not honourable in the way a cup defeat to a Premier League team might be. If you have ambitions of success, you don't want to lose any more than 3 or 4 home defeats in a season. The first game is very early to be giving away one of your lives and to do it so cheaply has to be a worry.

Saturday, August 09, 2014

Oxford United 2014: Who are we?

Around this time of year I'm often asked by fellow bloggers to provide some kind of season preview for our club. The ask all the usual questions; best signing, prospects for the season, that kind of thing. They never ask the most important question; just who are Oxford United in 2014?

Richard Starkey, in his book Crown and Country, nails in the space of the opening few pages, a pro-monarchy argument I’ve been trying, and failing, to formulate for years. He argues that anti-monarchists are pre-occupied with the Royal Family. They believe them to be too rich, privileged, unaccountable and detached from mainstream society. But that supposes the family have any real choice in their role within the wider monarchic institution. In actuality, the Royal Family subscribe to their cosseted world, not because they see the riches it brings, but because they legally and constitutionally have no other choice. The monarchy is a corporation of which the family is its ‘brand’.

The monarchy, he argues, rightly in my view, is the organisation which holds the ideas and concepts that make us British; the keeper of our rambling evolving, and hugely robust cultural constitution. Take marriage, for example, the British concept of marriage is a melting pot of the French idea of romance, the old English idea of it being a way of dealing with practical issues like having babies and acquiring and protecting land and Germanic concepts of class - that we typically marry within our own ‘status’. The monarchy is where these concepts actually met and formed. If it hadn’t, then marriage in Britain today would be predominantly loveless, practical and arranged - a very un-British thing.

So, while we obsess over the royal family and its supposed riches, its actual purpose is frequently overlooked.

As we sit on the brink of a new season, we might well question what Oxford United is in 2014. It is too simple to say that Oxford are just a football club; early in the close season, after a turgid end to the last campaign, there was much hand-wringing as to why we should all leap to renew our season tickets. I renewed mine primarily out of habit; I knew when it came to it, i would regret it if I didn’t; but ultimately it wasn’t a rational or considered decision.

Others didn’t feel the same; some of the most loyal and thoughtful fans chose not to renew; not reactionary types or Johnny go-lightly’s; rational, intelligent and loyal people. Could I muster a rational and intelligent idea as to why they should? I eventually concluded that the only argument that I could muster was that this is a football club and that your season ticket is your membership subscription.

Of course, that argument only holds water to some degree. Yes, we’re a club because we’re only as strong as our ‘members’. But our membership doesn’t give us any rights. That’s because football club’s gave up on being traditional ‘clubs’ decades ago. I can almost pinpoint when Oxford United ceased being a club; I have a club handbook from 1982/3, possibly the last of its kind to be produced. It is full of clubby type news, like the state of the club’s finances. Within months Robert Maxwell had taken over at which point we ceased being a club, we were part of a rich man’s investment portfolio.

It’s difficult to fully understand Robert Maxwell’s motivation for taking over Oxford United; perhaps he was being genuinely altruistic towards a local institution in peril; supporting it as he might a charitable trust protecting an old church. But Maxwell would have struggled to resist his natural business urges. He foresaw football’s attractiveness to TV a decade before the Premier League came into being. He also fought hard, without success, to re-home the club because there was money to be made from new facilities. What he did exploit, however, was the power of a football club as a vehicle for advertising.

Maxwell bought up Oxford just as shirt sponsorship became fashionable; and he used the new liberalisation of rules around that to publicise a number of his businesses; Pergamon Press, BPCC and the Sunday People were all in Maxwell’s stable. It seems unlikely that any cash exchanged hands for their logos to appear on our shirts. Even in the 1st Division, with the club at their most marketable, the fabled Wang sponsor was, in fact, a contra arrangement where The Mirror Group got a discount from the computing firm in return for some in-kind shirt promotion. When people ask what happened to the money we earned during the Glory Years, the answer is probably that there wasn’t any.

Some thirty years later and we see the same coming again. Last year the yellow shirt was adorned with the legend Animalates; a start-up or franchise owned by Ian Lenagan. There appeared to be no cash involved; it was just that the club offered a national and local platform to promote another of Lenagan’s businesses. And now, the dubiously entitled ‘Round n Black’ will be blazoned across this season’s shirt. This is a company which currently doesn’t even appear to operate, but which lists Darryl Eales as a director. I am probably over simplifying things; but essentially the club gains nothing from this deal but Eales earns some free national advertising. And in essence, football is simply a platform for people to advertise their wares. And Oxford specifically quite often has just been a billboard to promote its owners other business interests.

It’s not all bad; United in Business and United We Achieve are two initiatives which, in concept at least, seem to position the club at the centre of local Oxford society; which is where the club should be, in my view. It is a rare institution which brings together the professional and working classes on an equal footing, but football club’s can do just that.

But, in 2014, Oxford United’s real purpose in life is as a pawn in a land deal; a position it has held, more or less, for more than a decade. Firoz Kassam, of course, profited hugely from buying up the bankrupt club and more importantly its valuable real-estate and selling it on for a healthy profit. There are few businesses that can survive the hardships that football clubs survive, particularly when there is a bankable asset available to be liquidated, as The Manor was. Had this been a conventional business, it would have been wound up and its assets sold off years before Kassam got hold of it and years before the Manor was worth so much. So Kassam was lucky enough, or wise enough, to spot that a bankrupt business sitting on a pot of gold that the banks and other creditors feared to close. He then used the self-same power of the Oxford brand to bully through planning permission for the stadium releasing the value of The Manor and making him an increasingly rich man.His argument at the time was that he was the man with the balls to do the deal, so he should profit. Unarguable in some senses, but you could run the same argument about people who get rich human trafficking, drug dealing or tricking old ladies out of their life savings - if you’ve got the balls, then why shouldn’t you get the spoils. But is it right?

For a period, it felt like we might actually become a sporting institution again; Ian Lenagan may or may not have been a ‘football man’ but he was certainly a sporting one. He never managed to do the big land deal at the heart of the club; either because it wasn’t a priority or because he simply couldn’t raise the funds to do it. But the benefit was that football became the focus of attention. That was particularly true during Kelvin Thomas’ time, when the players and fans seemed, literally, united behind a single, footballing cause. It’s why I’m a Lenagan fan and, therefore, a Wilder fan. But, you know, move on.

Even latterly, however, football has come first with the investment in the youth system which has paid some dividends.

This summer has seen the emphasis shift again; Eales and Ashton are in place, and the land deal is back on; and currently the club exists as a key part in the execution of that. I may be wrong; but I don’t think I am. I’m not suggesting that Eales wishes for the club to perish, in the same way that I don’t believe Kassam set out for it to either; it’s just that football is not the priority. There have been some good signs; Ashton for all his reputation is dedicated full-time to the job, which Lenagan wasn’t, and he has a football background - if that counts for anything. Appleton, I can’t pass judgement on, he could be a knowing or unknowing stooge in the whole thing or he could be the next bright young thing - although we’ve had a few of them over the years. Derek Fazackerly’s appointment does appear to be a positive in the summer’s maelstrom; although it was Kassam who brought in Ray Harford and Joe Kinnear as respected names in the game whose impact came to nought. Some of the signs are good, no doubt, but what Eales wants to achieve with the football side of things remains unclear; player investment to date has been under-whelming or at least on a par with the previous regime. There have been view clear statement on the playing strategy going forward.

The suggestion that the club may be about to issue a million non-voting shares is a good one, overdue and also welcome. Granted, there’s no rational reason to buy such stock in a football club. Essentially a non-voting share is an investment in a company’s future profit which is paid as a dividend to the investor. The idea that Oxford might one day return a healthy enough profit to pay a dividend to its shareholders seems remote. But even if the investment case is not a strong one, the availability of shares allows the fans the opportunity to feel they are investing in the club as members rather than just buying merchandise and tickets as customers is a good thing.

So there we have it; on the brink of another season and the club exists again, primarily to secure land and secondary; to play football. Maybe I need some actual football to distract me, but it makes me wonder whether this blog has actually helped me figure out the purpose of the club, and in fact, any football club. I have a friend who loves films; after a while he worked out that there was a formulae to the stories told in films, at which point he became interested in what went into stories; the storyboarding, the structure, the technology, the logistics and the economics. When he figured out that formulae he began to realise that the magic of films had been lost to him. Film making was, like everything else; a business driving out risk by formalising its practice. Perhaps ultimately I’m beginning to realise that at the top end of the game, football is about advertising and at the bottom end it’s about land. It is rarely about football. So, will we see some footballing magic in the next 12 months? Will we reignite a long lost fire? Or will we slowly realise that football barely registers as the primary reason that Oxford United exists at all.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Farewell Dave Kitson, you very strange chap

In many ways, Dave Kitson at Oxford made more sense to Dave Kitson than it did to Oxford United. Signed during the First Summer of Austerity, Kitson didn’t fit Ian Lenagan’s vision of a squad of young players with the robustness to last a whole season of League 2 action.

For Kitson, on the otherhand, there was the opportunity to add a couple of years to his dwindling career in an area close to where he lived. He was still being paid an obscene amount of money by Portsmouth although his (alleged) book suggests that, due to excessive spending and some poor financial planning, he wasn’t necessarily as cash-rich as many would have perceived. Above all, in Oxford he had an environment that, to a certain extent, meant that he could still play out his big-time footballer fantasies.

But, as we’ve seen time and again, when once big-time players end up at Oxford there's usually a good reason for it. The pattern; as seen with the likes of Gilchrist or Duberry, is that you typically get a good first season and a second season blighted by injury as the player finally falls apart. With Kitson, his first season was more like a second season and he didn’t even get to his second season announcing his retirement after a couple of sprints up sand dunes or whatever it is they do for pre-season nowadays.

As fleeting moments of genius go, Kitson barely registered on the Leven Scale. For a period he seemed to be the key to unlocking goals for James Constable who was his willing workhorse up front, but the odd threaded through-ball and masterful take-down aside he generally seemed to dally around the field in vague disgust at the inferiority happening around him.

There was something not quite right about Kitson. Perhaps it was that he was a square peg in a round hole; one of the lads, but the one with all the best stories and the best Ford Mondeo - or whatever it is footballers drive nowadays. Perhaps it was the opaque insight we had into his life and views as The Secret Footballer. Perhaps it was that he did genuinely seem to come across as a footballer like no other in terms of erudition and intelligence.

But, there was something else. His disciplinary record was atrocious; particularly for an experienced player who had played at the top level. It revealed a strangely narcissistic streak where he was prepared to aggressively criticise the officials as the ‘worst ever’ – demonstrating almost a perverse desire to deliberately get into trouble with the authorities. Perhaps he was the only player in League 2 whose comments would register with the FA, and that’s what he liked.

Even more darkly, and perhaps this is just a sign of the times, there was something even more cynical in what he did. He seemed to draw bookings or injuries almost, it appeared, deliberately, as if he just wanted to give himself the week off. Even worse, one particular incident – inexplicably conceding of a penalty against Plymouth – an act so oddly deliberately and his protest so strangely contrived made me, for the first time ever, question a player’s integrity. Perhaps it was just the toll of injuries meant that he just couldn’t do it anymore, perhaps (as suggested in the book) it was his mental state. This seems most likely to me, but perhaps it was something else.

He just never really seemed that committed, in a team that needed direction, experience and a bit of class, he drifted in and out at will. When he was on his game it looked like he was the key to unlocking success, but for much of the time it was like he was just mucking around.

How will Kitson be remembered? Well, he probably won’t, in truth. He’ll be filed alongside people like Colin Todd and Steve Perryman, former Oxford players who will forever be associated with  things than us. In the short term he leaves us with a gap in class and just a couple of weeks to fill it - thanks Dave.

Saturday, July 19, 2014

You say it best, when you say nothing at all

There's old journalistic lore which says that when something is presented to you as 'newsworthy' if the opposite of that thing is more surprising, then it isn't news, and therefore isn't worth writing about.

So, if someone says that it's going to be hot in July - a particular favourite amongst newspapers - the opposite is that it's going to snow. Because the opposite is more surprising than the reality; the story is redundant.

Whether that holds in the world of 24-hour rolling news is highly debatable. Quite simply there are just not enough genuine news stories to fill up the all-day real-time media machine.

We become anaesthetised to this, wholly accepting that the news we are given is not in fact of much, or any, value. The Daily Mail have taken it to the extreme by apparently considering news to be factual descriptions of women wearing clothes in a place somewhere on earth. Given the opposite; naked women on the moon would be considered somewhat more surprising, the existence of women wearing clothes is not news. While there is a low muttering of disgust at the vacuousness of it all and the objectification of the women concerned, we are generally accepting of its existence.

As Mark Ashton appeared on Malcolm Boyden's Radio Oxford show on Wednesday, Twitter muttered a genuine appreciation of his performance. In a summer of silence, anything parping out of the top table at Oxford United must feel like a feast to some.

It was a cloying matey interview, Boyden knows Ashton from somewhere although it wasn't clear from where; both come from the same part of the country and appear to be lay West Brom fans, perhaps they boing boing'ed next to each other at the Hawthorns back in the day.

Ashton was allowed to remain deep within his comfort zone; ladling on thick, heavy globs of media-grease throughout the 20 minute grilling simmer. He talked of Oxford being 'something special', and creating 'something special', about the community work being 'a passion'. Boyden echoed him back, almost hypnotised, 'You're really passionate about this aren't you'. 'Yes I am' said Ashton in the tone of a man who had just been asked the challenging question of confirming his own name.

Amidst the matey-ness, he also talked in a faintly sinister collective tense; 'The way we do things...', 'What we do...' it gave the impression of a masked cabal rolling into town to get whatever they want  before everything all falls apart or they get bored or they run out of money. This is something I've yet to resolve in my head; what is the motivation for them buying into the club? It might be success on the pitch, but there are other motivations in buying football clubs, not all of them in the long term interest of club.

Perhaps the 'we' was his family, who are apparently as 'passionately' committed to the club as everyone else. On the face of it Ashton has got himself a new job; but he gave the impression that this was akin to his family converting wholesale to Mormonism. There was a frankly improbably anecdote, set up by Boyden apropos of nothing, of Ashton's son switching allegiance from West Brom to Oxford on FIFA, and how he now looked at Oxford's results above all others (of both of our pre-season friendlies, presumably).

Basically, Ashton didn't say anything at all, certainly nothing that passes the old journalistic test. There was nothing that would allow you to pass any judgement - good or bad. The club needs players, but the right ones, we need firm financial footing, the club needs to own it's ground, it needs to engage with the community. We know all this, Lenagan said it, Kassam said it, Herd said it, Maxwell said it. Some of them delivered some of it, nobody did it all. Effective strategy is not about coming up with a list of ideas, it's about prioritising them and funding their delivery.

Talking of strategy; there are basically two questions that need answering when talking to the Chief Executive of Oxford United in 2014. In the short term; how much money is now available to invest in the team to help it move beyond its current position? The club cannot move forward much beyond its existing position within its existing business model, the only immediate opportunity is the unlocking of extra funds from outside that model.

And secondly, for its long term, how are the club going to own its own ground? Owning the ground is the new business model; whether that be at the Kassam or elsewhere. Without those two issues addressed, the latter in particular, Oxford are set to bob around the upper reaches of League 2 for the foreseeable future regardless of the owners or the level of passion they're prepared to invest in it. Neither question has even come close to being answered in the last two weeks. They've talked about 'the passion' to do all these things, they've not talked about 'the how'.

I don't blame Boyden for soft peddleing; local radio needs football. Senior bean counters at the BBC must be constantly questioning the value of signing cheques to pay for another documentary on the thriving West Oxfordshire jazz scene of the 1950s. Local football is a rare 'killer app' and a protective forcefield that almost justifies the existence of regionalised radio and TV. If you're Radio Oxford, you don't come out fighting against the owners of your local club. If the shop does shut, then the station's access to club news and interviews will dry up and that weakens its viability in the media landscape.

But, the fans listening in soporific stupor would do well not the be drawn into the mythical powers of 'passion' that Ashton is currently using as his magical staff. It is not so much his intentions that concern me; few people come into a club with the deliberately intention of it failing, but it is his competence and priorities which have yet to come to the fore.

Saturday, July 12, 2014

World Cup All Stars #7: John Aldridge

Let me try and paint a picture of football in the 1980s. Great emphasis was placed on your first team; so much emphasis that players wore shirts numbered 1-11 and there was just one substitute. Squads didn't exist, if you weren't in the first eleven, you were in the second eleven or the reserves.

Football wasn't strategic, it was tactical. I don't know if that made it better, but it meant that the action happened on the pitch not in the boardroom. It meant that things were more unpredictable, which probably made it more exciting.

Within your first eleven was a big fat goalkeeper, defenders with wonky noses, nippy little wingers and a star striker. Nowadays you have three or four strikers who are rotated; in the 1980s it was just one. The narrative was pure Roy of the Rovers and it had been like that for decades from Tom Finney and Johnny Haynes through Jack Charlton and into the 1980s.

Oxford always had a star striker; Joe Cook, Keith Cassells, Peter Foley, Mick Vinter, Neil Whatmore, Steve Biggins. Each had their moment, Cassells scored against Brighton in the FA Cup, Biggins scored against Manchester United in the League Cup win in 1984. To me, however, it was all building up to the ultimate star striker; John Aldridge.

Aldridge was signed from Newport in 1984 by Jim Smith. History plays tricks on your mind, but it seemed that there was inevitability surrounding his arrival. He started scoring instantly providing additional impetus to the third division title charge, he followed it up a year later with another bucketful to take us through the to the 2nd division title. It was as if a pre-written destiny was being fulfilled.

In the top flight Aldridge set about keeping us up almost single handedly. For all of the legend surrounding Shotton and Briggs, our defence was porous. Aldridge scored 23 league goals, which kept us up.

If the 1980s was the last embers of the football in its traditional image, modern football was being brewed elsewhere. Jack Charlton had become manager of the Republic of Ireland. He set about putting in place a master plan to make his obscure little island into something resembling a force. In short he put winning at the core of everything he wanted to do.

The first thing he did was employ a philosophy of 'route one' football; it was a template that was being adopted in domestic football and was working. Passing, possession and style was effete, balls forward and goals were the new thing; both Watford and Wimbledon had reached stratospheric heights with the philosophy.

Secondly, he used the Irish diaspora to widen his talent pool. Suddenly anyone with a vaguely Irish connection became eligible. Dave Langan - from more traditional Irish stock - was a notable victim, despite, according to his autobiography, introducing both Liverpool born Aldridge and Glaswegian Ray Houghton to the new regime.

In some senses, the new set up was prescient of modern football with teams full of foreign players. It almost didn't matter where you came from, or where spiritually your heart was, so long as you were winning. The Republic of Ireland was almost a franchise.

The impact was immediate, although Aldridge struggled to some extent. Ireland qualified for the European Championships in 1988, beating England and scaring the living daylights out of the Netherlands and the USSR. Aldridge, however, was being used as a target man rather than a goal poacher and goals were hard to find. Charlton would use battering rams such as Niall Quinn and Tony Cascarino (who it eventually turned out wasn't even vaguely Irish).

The experience was intoxicating and Ireland went on to qualify for Italia 90 where they made the quarter-finals, even though they only scored two goals. In each game Aldridge ran around for an hour before being substituted. Against Romania he lasted 20 minutes.

According to all the autobiographies, the Irish experience was a blast for all concerned. By 1994, however, the empire was beginning to crumble as Charlton struggled to replacing his ageing first generation of imports. They qualified for USA '94, becoming almost a replacement England side, who had bowed out in qualifying.

Ireland started well, beating Italy in New York, but facing Mexico in stifling heat (something Charlton obsessed; over earning him a touchline ban) the Irish were found wanting. Aldridge, on the bench, was prepared to join the fray with 20 minutes to go and Mexico 2-0 up. With Norway waiting, the defeat could well have meant curtains for their campaign. Aldridge stood on the sidelines while a particularly fastidious official fussed over administrative technicalities. It took 6 minutes to make the substitution with Charlton and Aldridge screaming at the fourth official to let him on. The tirade, amidst plenty of rum language and finger pointing, was clearly audible on TV. It turned Aldridge into a worldwide legend.

He continued to remonstrate even while trotting onto the field. The fire in his belly helped him score his only World Cup goal, reducing the arrears to 2-1 (Ireland's 4th goal in their World Cup finals history). The goal was essential in reducing their goal difference and allowing them to progress into the second round where they were smited by the Netherlands.

That was the end of Aldridge's World Cup Finals career; more famous for his effin' and jeffin' than for his goals. He played for Ireland for a decade, scoring just 19 goals, although that still makes him the 4th joint top scorer for his country.

Well, I say his country...