small boys in the park. jumpers for goalposts
Even before the whistle has been blown to signal that start of a new season and before the first contentious VAR decision is called into question, the recent Greek tragedy of Harry Maguire’s court case has brought football back centre-stage with a bang. Mind, with the Charity, er, Community Shield taking place today it’s actually only been off our screens for a barely believable 138 hours. But the question I want to raise is has last season’s unique predicament finally shown football to be the sporting equivalent of the emperor’s new shorts?
The eerie, lukewarm, atmosphere-devoid games played-out in empty stadia have been one of the pandemic’s stranger sights. Accompanied by the cardboard cut-outs, stretched-out team flags and artificial ‘piped’ crowd soundtrack, they have been disquieting to say the least. Why exactly should watching Liverpool, Chelsea or Preston North End for that matter, otherwise unchanged from before, feel so uninteresting and one-dimensional?
In today’s game there’s no denying that loyalty is in short supply. Players come and go. Prima donna managers descend from on-high, promise the Earth, spend what’s in the bank and invariably leave, not with their tails between their legs but to enjoy their golden handshake in the sun. Owners, answering only to their shareholders or equity partners, sell-up and move on to bigger and better. Even the rise of the super stadia appears to embody what football has become. No longer town centre affairs which were easily accessible to Joe Public after knocking-off work early on a Saturday, a team appears second-rate if they haven’t knocked-down the original, sold the land for redevelopment, relocated and built a new theatre of dreams. And loaded itself with unpayable debt in the process.
Since the initiation of The Premiership, regional magnates and usually lifelong supporters, have given way first to multimillionaires and then to billionaires, foreign states and family dynasties, oligarchs and despots. You could try and argue that some are sincere in their intent and prove to be reasonable custodians but the majority are asset-strippers at best and corrupt chancers at worst. Either way, none should be able to profit from controlling such a deep, long-held, nationally-shared cultural entity.
Football clubs can only perform such alchemy, often in the face of adversity, because of the loyalty and support of their fans. It is these who are unable to swap allegiance and join the ranks of the ego-glory hunters and/or profit-takers. Without the active and vocal encouragement of the fan, the digital spectacle has proved hollow, brittle and superficial. And were it continue, the game’s commercial appeal would undoubtedly wither and die on the (David) Vine! But wait, there is another way.
Taking his cue from Sweden’s Meidner Plan of the mid 70s, sporting author David Goldblatt, coherently and rationally argues that we could legislate for a programme of community and social ownership. He proposes that some 10% of a club’s annual turnover be legally ring-fenced for the purchase of agreed-price shares which are automatically transferred to the club’s supporters’ trust. No current club owner would go uncompensated or unrewarded and no player would go hungry. The supporter’s trust, comprised of elected reps, can decide what percentage of the club they wish to retain and seek non-controlling private investment if they so choose.
Now, social ownership is as much a predictor of good governance as it is sporting success ie none, but, at the very least, it would place the people that make football matter at the very heart of their own club, its rituals and its money. Social capitalism is the future that will save the once-beautiful game. As The Fast Show’s Ron the Manager once famously put it: “Diamond formation? Does anyone really know what that is? I mean, at least you knew where you were with Alf Ramsey’s wingless wonders. You know? 4-4-2, 4-2-4, 4-3-3… 0898 654000 freephone double glazing anyone?
