The Schalter

Written by: Alexei Haigh

“England is mine and it owes me a living”
- Still Ill, The Smiths
(possibly penned at a BNP rally…)

The end is nigh. English football is crumbling around our ears and with it a large chunk of the nation’s identity. Already marginalised on the pitch within the nation’s top clubs, Englishmen are now finding themselves out in the cold when it comes to the manager’s job as well. Sepp Blatter announced his “shock” at Fabio Cappello’s appointment, adding his voice to a growing chorus of murmurs from such diverse quarters as Arsenal’s Arsene Wenger (can he, of all people actually criticise?) to former players like Paul Parker and over-looked prospective candidates like Steve Coppell and Alan Curbishley.

Unless you’ve been living on the moon (or perhaps with our friends across the pond) you’ll probably be aware that England’s much vaunted “Golden Generation” of players recently failed to qualify for Euro 2008, resulting in the merciful sacking of the gurning, hapless Steve McLaren - statistically the worst ever manager the national team have had. Ever. Despite having been groomed for the job throughout the whole reign of his predecessor and applauded as the right man by the likes of Sir Alex Ferguson, Trevor Brooking (also a sir, but also like the cool teacher you called by his first name) and BBC super-pundit Alan Hansen, McLaren was only given the job because other foreigners, most notably “Big Phil” Scolari, didn’t want it.

Coupled with the Costa Del Sol’s favourite cockney wide-boy, Terry Venables, the pair were hailed as a dream ticket because they understood the heart and soul of the English game. England’s great white hope had experience of winning trophies at club level and had taken England to the brink of success as coaches and managers before. They had the best players in living memory at their disposal, a wealth of knowledge and the good will of a nation hungry for the success it had been starved for for so long. The manager was English and young, with a wise old head (also English) at his side. It was fool proof. It couldn’t possibly go wrong.

And yet, inevitably, it did. Spectacularly. Horrifically. Boringly and predictably. In the end, happily even.

Since then the post-mortem has raged across the back pages, web-forums and pub tables as to who or what was responsible for England’s abysmal showing. Was it the dodgy pitch in Moscow? Surely Rooney was robbed? Was it the manager and his inability to get tough with the players? Was it just bad luck?

Some people, like Sepp Blatter, think that the Premiership is to blame. After all, can you really call the likes of Arsenal, who field teams without a single home-grown player, an English club? He believes that English clubs are putting money and success before patriotism and the national team is suffering as a result. Equally, the big clubs have been unwilling, it seems, to risk an Englishman at the helm, so how on earth are they supposed to get the experience they need to ever get good enough to manage a national team against the rest of the world’s best? A cursory glance at the Premiership table at present shows that of the top ten teams, only two have English managers in Harry Redknapp and Alan Curbishley and they’re currently ranked in eighth and tenth place respectively. It’s not a greatly changed picture to the end of last season either which would indicate that there is, perhaps, a grain of truth and sanity for once in Mr Blatter’s words, but then again, what on earth does he expect the clubs to do about it? Football, as McLaren soon found out, is a results based business and all the good will in the world won’t put the ball in the back of the net or save your job. And besides, why should the English automatically have preference in these clubs as either players or managers? Surely if they’re so good they’ll get through on merit? It’s not like there’s an English Ronaldo out there at the moment watching from the gods and waiting for his chance. Surely ability is more important than nationality?

Such an attitude would never stick in your average work place and quite rightly can’t be transposed to the business that is football just because. Can you imagine that meeting with the shareholders?

“Gentlemen, I’m pleased to unveil our new manager. He lacks the experience and skill of other candidates but by jove he’s English and… Wait… come back!!!!”

Would Spurs fans prefer a less prolific strike partnership than Berbatov and Keane because they’re not English? They could have had it in Defoe and Bent if they wanted to, but it’s not likely to win you games and bring what fans and footballers alike crave the most - glory.

So what to do? English players will never break through at the top clubs unless they’re exceptional, but they’ll never become exceptional unless they get experience of playing at the very highest level under the best managers in the game. Same with the coaches and managers. The only English manager of note working abroad at the moment that I can think of is Chris Coleman and he recently got sacked. And is Welsh.

What about the players? Beckham’s machine touched down in Hollywood to much hype and eventual disappointment that he wasn’t Jesus, Spiderman and George Best rolled into one. Is a slow, ageing, wannabe (sorry!) Hollywood socialite really the best England can muster? Really?

In the shorter term the appointment of Fabio Cappello is absolutely spot on. England need someone for the here and now and he’s certainly got the experience and knowledge (no, for real this time) to excel in the job. What he lacks in charisma he makes up for with an iron fist. With over-sexed and over-paid stars who need to be properly motivated for every game like they are at club level, that’s certainly no bad thing.

In the longer term the cycle needs to be broken somewhere, but most importantly not at the expense of the quality the Premiership has on display right now. England owes the English nothing and the sooner they realise that, the sooner they may pull up their socks and play like it matters. Instead of blaming foreigners for the demise of English football, the best of the best need to be used as a benchmark and as tools to push young English players to the limits of their capacity as athletes in order to be able to beat them on a level playing field in international tournaments. After all, if you can’t do better than them in your own back yard, what hope have you got in theirs?

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If you enjoyed this article, you might want to read:

• The Bashful Dragon: What Is It With The Welsh?
• All That Glitters, Or: A-Levels, They Ain’t What They Used To Be
• No Money In Poetry

Click here to read more by Alexei Haigh

This post is tagged Football