The gaffer in boots is back but this time he has help
A new generation of player-coaches has much better support than the pioneers, writes Daniel Zeqiri
If one wished to be cynical, appointing a legend could be seen as an opiate
Like lava lamps or Francis Fukuyama’s The End of
History thesis, football’s player-manager role was thought to be a relic of the Nineties.
Whether you witnessed football during this period or acquainted yourself with it by watching Premier League
Years, memories abound of Glenn Hoddle and Gianluca Vialli at Chelsea or Bryan Robson at Middlesbrough, following earlier successes in the dual role by Kenny Dalglish at Liverpool and Graeme Souness at Rangers.
With Wayne Rooney now installed as playercoach at Derby County and Anderlecht’s returning prince, Vincent Kompany, juggling defending with picking the team, might this
strange job description be on the cusp of a comeback?
It would be hasty to proclaim so, but in the context of Manchester United and Chelsea’s appointment of relative novices Ole Gunnar Solskjaer and Frank Lampard – and the return of Edu and Patrick Kluivert to Arsenal and Barcelona in technical roles – there is certainly a frisson of sentimentality sweeping the game.
A resistant strain of amateurism has run through English football since its foundational Victorian period, including the belief that sufficient gravitas and a minimum of expertise can transform player to manager.
Much nepotism and suffocating incuriosity resulted, as club after club went weak at the knees for the romance of a returning player in the dugout, failing to learn that it was outsiders who often created dynasties.
None of Herbert Chapman, Sir Matt Busby, Bill Shankly, Brian Clough or Sir Alex Ferguson had a playing association with the clubs they forged as managers, although Bob Paisley and Jock Stein did.
Those titans exercised near total control and had a vast portfolio of responsibilities across the club, one reason why the first wave of playermanagers sometimes struggled.
With more clubs operating with a stratified continental model however, this is a less daunting task for today’s players-turned-coaches and why we might be seeing an uptick in these appointments.
Dozens of data analysts and medical experts stand behind them and a director of football looks after the club’s long-term future, so they can devote their attentions to the training ground. Players no longer bang on their door asking for a pay rise, they go directly to the club, who also have some risk mitigated by limiting the coach’s remit.
English football’s relationship with its continental neighbours is complex, borrowing and reflecting different ideas at different times.
Earlier in the new century, Premier League clubs wanted their own Arsene Wenger, Rafael Benitez or Jose Mourinho – new “outsiders” with untapped knowledge of diet, tactics or periodisation. The occasional Jacques Santini or Alain Perrin was deemed a price worth paying.
At the same time however, there is reverence for the role former players – “insiders” – fulfil at Bayern Munich, Ajax and Barcelona, typified by Pep Guardiola’s ascent. Cultivating a strong identity while staying open to fresh ideas brings a tension, and one suspects the two schools of thought may have a cyclical relationship.
Former players or player-coaches also bring a level of empathy to their dealings with players in an age when the sergeant-major approach proves futile.
“One of the things I always hear on TV now is, ‘You can’t shout at players like you used to’. Well, don’t shout at them then,” new Derby coach Liam Rosenior told The
Times. “There’s a different way of thinking and coaching now.”
Clubs are wary of costly mistakes in an overheated transfer market and so are deciding to fill their squad with academy talent who require a more paternal approach.
What is undoubtedly true is that former players benefit from a stronger emotional bond with a club’s fans, offering rare patience and acceptance of mistakes.
Whether running a club based on the emotional reflexes of supporters is wise is another debate. If one wished to be cynical, the appointment of a legendary player could be seen as a convenient opiate – compensation for the financial disparity between the fans and their heroes and a distraction from costly ticket prices, broadcast subscriptions, sky-high train fares and other forms of economic gouging which supporters endure.
Unrestrained nostalgia at the expense of competence? Decide for yourself, but we have not seen the last of popular player appointments. Until Lampard and Solskjaer are sacked perhaps, then the cycle will start again.