In the ‘old days’ when Spurs played in grey, Arsenal in grey, Chelsea in a slightly different grey and Newcastle in black’n’white, football managers bossed the clubs. They also wore long, grey overcoats and grey hats. Underneath were suits and ties. All grey. Always. We watched them on tv. They were called ‘the Boss’ or ‘the Guv’nor’.

But they had power. And more importantly they had respect. Of the players, of the owners, of the fans. In fact the owners were generally families who’d owned the clubs for generations. They install a manager and it was a job with tenure. Bill Nicholson, Bob Paisley, Matt Busby, Bertie Mee, Don Revie, Brian Clough (though he moved clubs) were given clubs to manage and that’s what they did. Win or lose. Survive or get relegated. It was their sole responsibility.

Then came The Premiership. Then came money. Then came Sky. The devil’s (that’d be Rupert Murdoch, then) own quest for national, if not world, dominance.

It was a seed change. It was a revolution. The cash just flooded into the game. Players went from earning merely ridiculous wages to entering the film-star region of the super-rich. Football clubs became trinkets for the insanely wealthy to buy as a new hobby. You’re an oil sheikh with untold billions and not much to do with your life? Buy Manchester City. You’re a Russian Oligarch looking to launder some money and raise your profile high enough that Russian hit-squads can’t hit it? Buy Chelsea. You’re an American Sports Franchise serial addict; by Manchester United. Its easy.

Thus the manager, once esteemed, untouchable, revered, now faced a growing dilemma. The players, buoyed by their new wealth, became more difficult to deal with. They didn’t just do what the manager said; they questioned. Even though they were, in the most part, inexperienced and educationally sub-normal. The owners were not just there to perpetuate an institution and keep it an essential part of a local community. Now they wanted ‘success’ because that was where the riches lie. Even though they were seriously fucking rich to start with. But not content with owning a football club!!! they now wanted to ‘win the Champions League’ as the latest measure in the penis measuring world in which they live. And if YOU, Alfie Englishman, can’t win it for me, with your black’n’white flat cap, then I’ll go and find Johnny Foreigner who wears shell suits in bright colours and won with Athletico Dubrovnik!!!

And now managers who fit the bill, who have a Euro ‘pedigree’ have themselves become stars. Their salaries now match those of the players. But there’s far less of them to go around. There’s only one Jose Morinho. Thank God. And there’s only one Mauricio Pochettino. AND HE’S FUCKING OURS, SO PISS OFF CHELSEA, YOU CAN’T HAVE HIM (even after last night). There’s also only one Rafael Benitez. Sacked by the world’s most unforgiving club, Real Madrid, two months ago for failing to win anything for 3 weeks, he is in line to start work at Newcastle by the weekend, so tis reckoned.

And that is a whole other proposition from ‘how do I maximise Ronaldo and Bale in the same squad for effectiveness? This is more ‘what the fuck can we possibly do with this band of misfiring misfits?’ Rafa will be a very brave man to take that on, I feel. It could affect his own future worth.

Happy Friday

A xxxx