There’s an old saying that goes something along the lines of ‘the only way to make a small fortune owning a football club is to begin with a large fortune.’ A club may be pottering along, very much as it has done for most of its existence, then someone takes control and starts investing money, the club grows in inverse relationship to the amount of money that the owner has – then comes the crunch.
The owner decides he’s spent enough and divests himself of the costs. The club plummets and ends up in a far worse state than before the money came along. For some clubs, it even leads to destruction as the bright, attractive, but ultimately destructive flare of its owner’s ambition burns out, leaving behind merely ashes, memories and regrets. Stories such as this, tinged with pathos, are common across the game, and fitting right into the model is the period covering the late eighties and early nineties for Belgian club KV Mechelen and IT business magnate John Cordier. The club lived the dream – the electric dream of its owner’s ambition – and then awoke with a hangover. Continue reading →
There’s a poignant inevitability about the fate of the Dutch national team in the World Cups played out in 1974 and 1978. Scornful of victory, embracing the creation and innovation rather than the denouement. Movement, flow and fluidity marked their way. Two losing finals; contrasting in so many ways, and yet so very similar in that both ultimately ended in shattering defeats by the tournament hosts. On the road, but not arriving. Bridesmaids donned in orange.
Widely touted as potential winners in 1974, but falling at the final hurdle despite having taken the lead when, perhaps an inherent arrogance surpassed their intoxicatingly tantalising skills. West Germany took advantage of the hubris and lifted the trophy. The Dutch shuffled away, not licking their wounds, but contemplating what might have been; off-shade tangerine dreamers. Continue reading →
The Olympiastdion in Munich on 7th July 1974. On a seasonably warm Bavarian afternoon, the coronation of Holland’s ‘Oranje’ was expected. Rinus Michel’s team had scorched the the pitches of West Germany with the vivid bright flame of their football. The ‘Cruyff turn’ had been born when Sweden’s Olssen, bamboozled by the Dutchman’s manoeuvre not only had to buy a ticket to get back into the stadium, he also needed a taxi to get back there, so far had he been sent the wrong way. A Brazil squad, shorn of Pele for the first time in a generation had eschewed their ‘jogo bonita’ for a style some called pragmatic, others called brutal. In a beauty and the beast contest however, the Dutch had eliminated the reigning champions. Whilst the Dutch masters created flowing football with the panache of an artist, the Brazilians were cutlass-wielding barbarians in comparison. Wherever they were when they saw the performance, the souls of the ‘Pearl,’ Gerson and Tostao would surely have been uneasy. Continue reading →
In his book ‘A matter of Life and Death: A History of Football in 100 Quotations’ The Telegraph’s columnist Jim White quotes former Scotland manager Ally MacLeod as saying, “You can mark down 25 June 1978 as the day Scottish football conquers the world.” As was later to be harshly proven, it didn’t quite turn out that way. The tale of Scotland’s venture to South America for the World Cup Finals has gone down in infamy, and if the epithet of ‘pantomime’ that many have sought to label the Tartan Army’s travails in Argentina with is appropriate, many would also be keen to cast MacLeod in the role of the piece’s villain.
Is that too harsh a judgement though? Yes, there was massive hype, and yes, there was even bigger disappointment as the whole edifice came crumbling down, but is it right that the blame for the whole sorry episode should be laid at MacLeod’s door? Was he some buffoon-like character, full of bluster and blunder, or merely an innocent abroad, a patriot wrapped up in the hopes of a nation when Scottish football was at a high-water mark, promoted ahead of his ability, for who the fates turned their faces against at the moment of truth? Continue reading →
When Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink took the manager’s chair at Burton Albion, he increased the number of black managers amongst the top 92 clubs in English football by 50%. The Dutchman became the third member of the group, joining Huddersfield’s Chris Powell and of Keith Curle at Carlisle. Hasselbaink however is no fan of the Rooney Rule, a device to ensure more ethnic minority applicants for top jobs within the game at least get to interview stage. Whilst some would argue that it’s easier to adopt such a stance once you’re on the inside, the former Leeds United and Chelsea striker refutes such a view. Appointed from over 60 other applicants for the position at the Pirelli Stadium, he simply declares that “I wanted the job because I am the right person for it and got it because the chairman thinks I am.” Continue reading →
After Holland’s defeat to Argentina last night, they again became the bridesmaids of World Cup competition and are still to win the biggest accolade of all. It seemed therefore appropriate to reprise an article that I’d produced before the World Cup kicked off, looking at one of the great Dutch sides of the past who, in my opinion were the best team never to have won the World Cup. Enjoy!
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Around about now, with the big tournament just around the corner, there’s always an opportunity for these sorts of articles. They say that nostalgia is a thing of the past, but I’m not so sure! We all love a bit of reminiscence and to talk about our favourite sides in world football. Yes, of course the winners, but also those that didn’t receive the ultimate accolade, those that came up short in World Cup tournaments. They’re the teams that promised so much but didn’t deliver the big trophy on the big stage. The history of football is full hard luck stories. What could have been. What should have been. What, simply put, never was. Continue reading →