Beeb’s cult of celebrity has cost it dear with the Lineker debacle...

THERE was a time, not so long ago, when the BBC was seen as a bastion of authority and ambition. In terms of programming — from Bagpuss to The Blue Planet — it delivered for every generation.

Sundays alone were filled with the likes of Formula One and Ski Sunday; dinner was devoured and homes were charged with excitement as the theme tune for the winter wonderfest burst into our living rooms. Even if you had no knowledge of skiing whatsoever, this was an appointment not to be missed.

Throughout the 80s, 90s and early 2000s, the BBC delivered an extraordinary array of programmes which, in sporting terms, educated, enlightened and entertained. Very rarely did the presenter become ‘The Show’. The sport, itself, was the main attraction.

As viewers, we were acutely aware of the significance of the bigger picture. Sure, Des Lynam was a great host on Grandstand and David Coleman, too — but they never, ever mattered more than the programme.

More recently, Sue Barker continued this tradition at Wimbledon. While letting her go was a mistake, we know as viewers that Clare Balding will be a brilliant replacement and will do a superb job when handed the reins at SW19. Yet neither presenter is more important than the show itself.

So how, then, has Gary Lineker seemingly become ‘bigger’ than the BBC? Where does this now leave the public service broadcaster? And, most importantly, where does it leave us when it comes to trust in the internal workings of Auntie Beeb?

While Lineker skips off the naughty step and back into his day job this weekend, the role of Tim Davie and BBC chairman Richard Sharp are surely under more scrutiny than ever before. Leaving aside Sharp’s own issues with impartiality and his links to the Tory party, their inability to foresee the effect the Lineker debacle would have on the whole institution is staggering.

We have to be honest here. Whether we like it or not, the BBC brought this issue upon itself.

By creating this culture of celebrity, where a freelance former footballer is seen as the ‘face of the BBC’, what did they expect?

The general assumption is that Lineker would have been aware of the BBC’s social-media guidelines and that he would have known what he was or wasn’t allowed to write about on Twitter. Personally, I don’t think it’s as clear-cut as that.

Who, for example, was doing the checks and balances on this? What did his deal stipulate? That he wasn’t allowed, while under contract, to express an opinion on politics? That, as a sports presenter, he should remain impartial on issues that did not relate to the job in hand?

And, if Lineker is seeing other freelancers tweet away regardless of editorial policy, why should he expect to be treated any differently?

Lineker could never have known when he compared the UK Government’s language over asylum seekers to that of 1930s Germany that he would open up a debate about the future of the BBC. But that is exactly what has happened with this whole, sorry saga.

The values of the Beeb are now being questioned. Our trust in it has diminished.

But the truth is, the BBC is so full of holes that it’s leaking rapidly anyway.

In terms of programming, it’s so desperate to haul in a younger audience that it has forgotten about those it relies upon to pay the licence fee and who still adore the national broadcaster for what it traditionally represents. It has forgotten about the quality programming we so adored as it churns out its celebrity-driven agenda.

What we see now is a move towards the ‘personality’. Sporting achievement and talent come second.

The Lineker situation also asks questions about the BBC’s employment policies and where freelancers sit in the grander scheme of the organisation.

While a ‘contributor’ might just get paid for a one-off programme, a freelance ‘contractor’ is different. Individuals like Lineker will have their own agreements, arranged mainly through agents, which will include different rights and responsibilities.

I’ve been on both sides of the equation with the BBC, as both a freelancer and a member of staff, and the phrase ‘grey area’ is an understatement when it comes to your rights as a contractor.

On the one hand, you’re expected to act like an employee but, on the other, you’re entitled to nothing in terms of benefits. If the proverbial hits the fan? You’re outta there. And not through choice.

A lot of the time, the BBC wants to have its cake and eat it. But this crisis has brought a level of scrutiny in recent days that has possibly been lacking before.

As an organisation, it has become so bloated with malaise that it is regularly being outperformed by other broadcasters who retain the desire, the ambition and the hunger that has slipped from the BBC’s grasp.

A lack of accountability in the Lineker saga is nothing new. It’s happening all over the BBC as we speak, with many good people suffering as a result.

There’s a reason a recent poll of BBC Sport staff found 80 per cent giving senior management zero out of five for the way they have handled the Lineker situation.

So many people — me included — want desperately to feel proud of the institution we once adored. I feel like I gave it everything during my time there.

I hope with all my heart that we always have a BBC in some shape or form. But, most of all, I hope we see an end to the reasons not to have one.