Lambert proves the peril of crossing derby lines
Old Farm red card shows what happens when a coach has history with both sides, says Jim White
He knew what he was doing. It may be why he was so animated
or a man who, away F from the football pitch, is a model of considered restraint, intelligence and calculation, Paul Lambert’s behaviour on the touchline during the East Anglian derby at the weekend was unexpected to say the least.
Not only did the Ipswich Town manager become so exercised that the referee was obliged to flourish a red card in his direction, he was subsequently shown the way to the stands by a police officer. In the Old Farm confrontation, this was Olympic-level manure slinging. Lambert appeared to have become unhinged.
But then he was facing a very particular pressure. As if the fact that Norwich City are at the top of the Championship while his Ipswich are facing the real prospect of imminent eviction to League One was not sufficient cause of tension, Lambert is a member of an unusual managerial club: he has worked on both sides of a derby divide. He was one of Norwich’s most successful managers before he headed off on a peripatetic route taking in Aston Villa, Blackburn, Wolves and Stoke ahead of arriving at Ipswich this season.
Not many coaches have stepped across a footballing boundary in the manner he has. And for good reason. Managers may reckon themselves neutral, with no more significant loyalty than to their current employers, but for supporters it is nothing like that. Nothing confounds their assumptions as much as working for the enemy.
Just ask Alex Mcleish. In 2011 he resigned as manager of Birmingham. Five days later, he was appointed at Aston Villa. In a stroke he achieved the rare distinction of uniting both sides of the second-city divide: everybody hated him. Birmingham fans were incandescent about his perceived treachery, Villa fans daubed graffiti on the walls of their stadium denouncing the arrival of a Bluenose. The fury was sustained and ugly. The belief that he was some sort of infiltrator – there by design to undermine – stalked him throughout his time at Villa Park.
How much easier life must be now he is manager of Scotland, where all he has to worry about is being blamed by an entire nation for any footballing missteps.
His experience was clearly not heeded by Steve Bruce. At least Bruce left it nine years between leaving Birmingham and arriving at Villa. But even so, his past stalked him. Villa supporters were never convinced he had washed the blue right out of his hair.
Spurs fans felt the same when George Graham joined Tottenham after a triumphant spell at Arsenal. Unlike Bruce and Mcleish, he had personal motivation for the move. Arsenal had sacked him unfairly, he believed. Revenge for him was a trophy or two for the local rivals.
But however much they might have recognised his purpose, for a bunch of fans who would baulk at the very idea of applying red paint to any woodwork in their house, he was tainted by his former association. Indeed, Arsenal fans enjoyed stoking such suspicions, repeatedly suggesting he was a Gunner fifth columnist.
Lambert knew what he was doing. Sure, the Old Farm may be a peculiarly local thing, its nuances barely registered beyond East Anglia. But he was aware of what he was getting into. Indeed, that may have been why he was so animated on Sunday. An astute student of supporter behaviour, he may have recognised that the best way to demonstrate that he had stripped himself of any lingering yellow affiliation was to behave like that in the derby.
In the build-up to the match he had informed the Norwich media that he would not be cooperating with them. Now here he was losing his rag, like a proper Ipswich fan would.
Though how the supporters will view his expression of loyalty will really depend on whether he keeps the team in the Championship.