Manager v Chairman - The Fragmented Footballing Marriage

It is well documented and discussed that English professional football has been both blessed and cursed in recent years by the phenomenon of cash rich chairmen and women from far flung corners of the globe, injecting their vast fortunes into top-flight clubs. In an effort to stock the trophy cabinets - and inevitably add to their already brimming business portfolio - these oil, steel, property and media tycoons lay on the resources that will hopefully facilitate the fast-track success of the world's leading football clubs. 

The arguable catalyst for this in the English game was the the introduction of Roman Abramovich, who completed his audacious acquisition of Chelsea FC in July 2003. Other clubs have followed suit, most notably Manchester City five-years later. Although the two examples here were met with eventual and resounding support once the silverware began filtering it's way into Stamford Bridge/The Etihad Stadium, there have been other, less well received takeovers and attempted revolutions. A case in point would be the acrimonious Icelandic hijack of my beloved West Ham United in 2006, characterised by outlandish spending on players in the the twilight of their careers, and leaving the club in a crippling state of debt which still has to go some way in being repaired by the current chairmen. A far more unfortunate story is being played out at Leeds United and Portsmouth FC - now plunged into a comparably deficient state of affairs than that of only a decade or so ago - clubs that fell victim to short sighted spending and some clumsy handling of corporate and executive affairs.

(Photograph: PA. Source: The Guardian)

When all goes right for the club on the pitch, the manager is often the most immediate and visible party lavished with credit and reward. Similarly, he is the first to be reprimanded and interrogated when things take a turn for the worse. It is the latter, however, that appears to be reported with greater enthusiasm by the English press - the very public and damning criticism of managers from the boardrooms of their own clubs makes for intriguing, conveniently ambiguous, and revenue generating reading. The Man City takeover spelled a countdown to the exit for Mark Hughes, who, when given the almost impossible task of developing a hurriedly assembled team of overvalued misfits into a title winning force of European football, would have to take the guise of a well established and decorated football manager capable of controlling and inspiring a well paid collection of inflated egos. The same fate, although differing in circumstance, is met regularly by managers given a squad of want-away centre forwards and emerging midfielders encouraged by a tenuous but optimistic sniff of a lucrative move. This scenario is no doubt nourished by the greed and ambition of commission-dependent agents, sowing the seeds of delusion and greener grass in the head of a vulnerable League One academy graduate. Quite memorably, even the likes of Wayne Rooney can fall victim to the seduction of wayward third party advice - something which he has later reflected on with regret.

The word "boss" has become somewhat of a descriptive folly in the modern game. Gone are the days where the manager or head coach would be the Supreme Court on team matters, commanding his side with an iron (and worshipped) fist, à la Sir Alex Ferguson. His stature in the game is of course an exception to the modern rule - his career with Manchester United speaks for itself in world football, and the clubs financial status owes almost everything to his successes - but the status of the football manager is becoming increasingly susceptible to the might of the money men in control of their wages.

Although the negativity that money can have on the affairs of a professional football team, and the axe-wielding nature of a lot of "industry ignorant" club owners' and chairmen, a stand-off approach employed by a wide majority of these has meant that a number of clubs have enjoyed extended periods of fruit-bearing stability. The case of Arsene Wenger springs immediately to mind after that of 'Fergie', and although under fire of late for releasing his star players to big spending rivals, his vision and knowledge of the game rarely comes into question from worthy critics. In a time where financial fair play is a hot topic in world football, the astronomical debt recorded and written off with cash - or shrouded in £400 million, 10 year sponsorship deals - gives cause for concern for smaller clubs whose managers face the unenviable task of competing with a transfer budget not ten percent of the size of that enjoyed by the top four or five heavyweights. This trend is ever spreading across European and Asian football; Anzhi Makhachkala and Zenit St. Petersburg in Russia, Paris Saint Germain in France, Shanghai Shenhua in China to name but a few. All have made signings that have been firm statements of intent by their lavish owners, and all have seemingly installed revolving doors below a sign reading "Manager".

Football has no doubt become a far more exciting, skillful and broadly covered sport in the last two decades, made largely possible by an influx of foreign wealth. It would however seem that the rules by which clubs are run, and those which govern the professional game, have been visibly rewritten as a result.