A little over two and a half years ago as I watched an abject England team finally fall off the rails during a wet night in London, you could hear the press sharpening their pencils like daggers. There were shades of the last English manager at the last Wembley. But this time, whatever was said in the post match press conference, you knew there was going to be no excuses to satisfy the ‘baying hoards’ of fans and journalists alike.
We all love a ‘rags to riches’, and this I must admit is one of the finest I’ve witnessed in years.
I have to take my hat off to Steve ‘the wally with the brolly’ McClaren. Yesterday saw FC Twente crowned the Dutch Champions for the first time in their history and to put that into perspective, it’s almost the equivalent of Villa winning the premier league.
He is a man I have never warmed to, and I could hardly believe the arrogance he brandished with such serenity at his inaugural press conference after another flunked campaign from the FA to land their man (behind Scolari and Mourinho). To be fair, I don’t hold him accountable for his appointment, that must be layed at the feet of the English press and an anemic Brian Barwick, but ultimately the results and failure of a ‘more than able’ side to qualify for the Euro’s was well below the required grade. The axe fell swiftly and McClaren was banished to the wastelands of English football.
His stock had fallen, and even he admitted that the best he could hope for was a return to England’s second tier the following season. But after receiving a crucifixion on a near biblical scale, no could blame him for slipping out the back door. The turkey had left the building, and not a soul noticed.
His appointment to FC Twente, obviously came as a small surprise to the relative few who could be bothered to cast a lazy glance across the north sea, but it otherwise went unnoticed. He picked up a team, who were on gradually rise through the the dutch league initialed with consecutive fourth place finishes in previous seasons, and hoisted them into the Champions League Qualifying for the first time in their history. For the 09/10 season, they flew out for the blocks, and with the additions of Ronnie Stam and Bryan Ruiz, both whom signed by McClaren (the latter notching up 32 goals), they march toward a first league title leaving league champions AZ 24 points behind. The ‘usual suspects’ PSV and Feyenoord were left by the way side, and even fallen giant Ajax couldn’t halt the charge. The sweet sweet smell of humble pie began to waft back across the north sea.
He became the latest English manager to win a title overseas since the late, great Sir Bobby guided FC Porto to the top spot in ‘95/’96. While many of our homegrown managers cast into footballs murky backwaters prefer to let off stink and seek compensation, he waived it all and took a plunge down a barely beaten path emerging with that large grin and dodging dutch accent not looking so stupid after all. While he lacks the Great Sir Bobby’s warmth and charisma, there is definitely a parallel emerging between the two. The lambasting of Bobby after ‘86 was, let’s face it, verbal GBH and continuing with the dignity he did through to the 1990 world cup secretly pissed our wonderful array of tabloids off even more, but it wasn’t until he disappeared and emerged in Portugal with a couple of league titles and flying the nations flag, he started to receive the recognition he deserved.
I once read an article by sky’s Nick Collins, in which he wrote:
“Football is not a democracy. The FA does not spend millions a year to appoint a man tasked with sifting through the English fans best opinions and implementing them on the pitch”
If you can find, its one of the best articles I’ve read.
Although, I acknowledge McClarens reign in charge of the national team was a catastrophe, I did believe in the appointment of an English manager, and still do. Harry Redknapp should have every right to feel short changed by the FA, and thier obvious apprehensive front toward our national coaches. But every nation has thier fair share of turkeys, the most notable of late, Roberto Donatoni, in which he successfully dismantled a world winning squad in less than two years, resulting in a laboured attempt at Euro ‘08. While other countries continue to experiment and we laugh at the consequences, before launching an outrageous broadside at our very own, our philosophy of picking the best and most expensive off the shelf is pretty paltry, and reeks of desperation. But I suppose that’s what happens when you leave men with penchants for ‘prawn sandwiches’ and each others wrist watches running the show.
With Sir Bobby now canonized and Steve ‘the wally’ looking to continue his adventure at Werder Bremen in Germany, I hope one day to have a home grown coach leading us out in the Maracana Stadium in 2014. Because when we finally triumph after 120 minutes of emotional soul destruction and 7 penalties…we can honestly say its our own.
No offence Fabio.
