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Adam Bate believes getting the press onside is an important skill for any football figure, but they don’t all seem to realise this

“I wasn’t a great communicator. Things are different now because I’m trying to get into media work, but I didn’t speak to the press then and that maybe didn’t help my cause. The thing is that at Blackburn and West Ham, my performances were OK and spoke for themselves, but that wasn’t the case here [at Fulham].” Ian Pearce, 2011.

Pearce’s attitude is indicative of many professional footballers. They take the view that there is no advantage to be gained from speaking to the ladies and gentlemen of the press. The media are simply out to get them and the safest course of action is to steer well clear. But, as Pearce suggests, this belief can actually damage a footballer’s career.

Of course, in a very different way, Joey Barton’s recent outpourings on Twitter have challenged the relationship between footballers and the media further. In embracing social media with alarming honesty, Barton has not only served to highlight the anodyne contributions of his peers but also left journalists reporting information that many of the public have already accessed directly.

Lawrie Madden is a footballer-turned-journalist who now gives media training courses for the League Managers Association (LMA). At a Lilleshall seminar in July 2011, he said: “I still don’t think football clubs, players and agents fully understand the role of the media and what it’s there for. A lot of players want to deal with the media when it suits them, or when they’ve got a book to promote, but most of the time they don’t want to know. If you want to build a career in the media it’s a lot easier if you worked on that relationship when you were playing. It’s not rocket science but sometimes you’d think it is.”

It’s not just players that need to work on their relationship with the press. As Madden knows from his role with the LMA, managers could also do themselves a few more favours. He added: “Sir Alex Ferguson bans people from press conferences just to teach them a lesson. At any one point there might be three Premier League managers refusing to talk to Sky. Some of them are missing a trick because the media can provide a career beyond football – as long as a player or manager conducts themselves correctly.”

Perhaps it’s not so crucial for a man such as Ferguson – he celebrates his 70th birthday on New Year’s Eve and septuagenarians with knighthoods aren’t known for clogging up the dole queue. But while Fergie is working from a position of strength, others can be significantly helped or hindered by the press coverage they receive when the going gets tough.

Gordon Strachan is a manager who became infamous for his surly attitude towards the press. Richard Rae, writing in the Independent last year, acknowledged: “Plenty of journalists have been the subject of an acerbic put-down, which [Strachan] accepts probably doesn’t help when his managerial record is being analysed.”

In stark contrast, Harry Redknapp remains notorious for his tendency to court sections of the media. Birmingham Mail reporter Chris Lepkowski recently revealed on Twitter that when Redknapp’s Portsmouth defeated West Bromwich Albion in an FA Cup semi-final in 2008, one of the wags in the press room was heard to say: “Thank God the quotable manager won.” Of course, maybe he’s just that kind of guy. But it provided food for thought when Tottenham struggled their way through a difficult three-month period in the spring that brought just one solitary win in 13 games. While many Spurs fans were dismayed, the usually over-reacting tabloid press remained firmly in support of Redknapp.

Neil Ashton, formerly of the News of the World, demanded fans get off Redknapp’s back. Charlie Wyett of the Sun – a paper for which Redknapp has written a regular column – was particularly incredulous and appeared to be seeking vengeance. Wyett went so far as to suggest that the Spurs fans who had criticised the manager deserved for the club to be relegated the following season.

Contrast this with the treatment of Fabio Capello. The Italian endured an undoubtedly disappointing 2010 World Cup as England manager. However, when the Sun is producing back-page headlines labelling Capello a Weirdo and a Jackass, it is legitimate to consider the possibility that there are other elements at work. His refusal to interact with the media as freely as some of his contemporaries is a factor that perhaps should not be overlooked.

Don’t expect Capello to be tweeting the reasons for his team selections any time soon. But you can certainly expect the relationship, or lack of it, between players, managers and the media to continue to shape public perceptions for some time to come.

From WSC 296 October 2011

Steve Menary explores the growing number of transfer fees that remain undisclosed and the reasons behind it

Debate over the size of transfer fees is part of football, but an increasingly endangered part. Players now – certainly at lower levels – are increasingly sold for “undisclosed” amounts. Clubs, players and agents are within their rights to withhold the relevant figures but this trend is also short-changing fans.

AFC Bournemouth reputedly received £1 million from selling striker Danny Ings to Burnley recently, but the fee – like that of six other players sold over the past year – was undisclosed. Estimates suggest debt-free Bournemouth will eventually earn £3m but manager Lee Bradbury is bringing in free transfers and loans.

With club accounts repeatedly delayed, Cherries fans are split. Chairman Eddie Mitchell is either praised for righting a debt-laden ship or decried as an asset-stripper. The situation works in reverse too. Driven by an ambitious chairman, a club splashes out untold sums on players for undisclosed fees, then the chairman disappears as the club collapses. Those left picking up the pieces are often the fans, who – if transfer fees had been disclosed – could have queried their club’s spending much earlier.

Transfer fees are lodged with the FA and available in club accounts but the figures quoted are often an amalgamation, and few lower-league clubs voluntarily make any financial details available anyway. FIFA-licensed agent Faizal Khan explains: “To aid cash flow, it may be a transfer fee of £20m is paid in instalments over three years with a player in exchange and other benefits. The £20m deal may only be £7m in cash today and be made up of instalments, player bonuses, a high-profile pre-season friendly and lump sums after the player makes international caps to, in time, all add up to £20m.

“To not rock the boat, it is sometimes best not to disclose everything. If the selling club publishes that they sold a player for £20m yesterday and do not spend near £20m in that transfer window on replenishing the squad, some fans will go beserk.”

That creates pressure on managers and owners, but the most thick-skinned of the latter simply carry on regardless, particularly in the lower divisions where there is less focus. “Figures are reported in mainstream media and you get that figure from people close to the deal, like the buying or selling club or the agent,” says Nick Harris, chief sports news correspondent at the Mail on Sunday and editor of sportingintelligence.com. “Sometimes those figures are accurate, sometimes that are very wide of the mark. Premier League clubs will be scrutinised as more journalists are asking questions, but in the second or third division, if the local papers don’t have the will or the power and the owners don’t want people to know, there’s not a lot you can do.”

Since October 2010, clubs transferring players internationally must lodge details – including fees – with FIFA’s Transfer Matching System, which was used for 2,451 international transfers in the first transfer window of 2011. The combined transfer value of those deals was $320m (£197m) and FIFA estimate more than 4,000 clubs use a system that is bound by Swiss data protection laws and confidential.

With FIFA mired in allegations of corruption and the debacle of the failed England 2018 World Cup bid, there is an urgent need for more transparency in football. The Football Supporters’ Federation (FSF) recently launched a campaign to make the game subject to the Freedom of Information Act. This, however, would only apply to governing bodies rather than clubs. “We haven’t got a policy on disclosing transfer fees, but it’s something most fans would want to see,” says Michael Brunskill, FSF director of communication.

The FA and Football League do not have policies on disclosure of transfer fees, while Premier League spokesman Dan Johnson says: “It’s down to individual clubs and some feel it is commercially sensitive so choose not to. Also, it’s sometimes a case that what the buying and the selling club wish to present are slightly different variations – adding in or not taking account of various clauses such as appearance, international or success payment triggers in the contract.”

Even the most blinkered fan must appreciate that disclosing how much money has been paid out or received during a transfer window is not conducive to good business. If a player is attracting interest from a club flush with cash from a big sale of its own, a bigger fee will be demanded.

In the longer term, annual disclosure of money spent during a season would at least give fans greater clarity on what is happening to their club and some of their money.

From WSC 296 October 2011

Dermot Corrigan reviews a new film and its focus on young footballers chasing success and fortune in Europe

It is said that football can provide a route out of poverty, with FIFA often claiming that the game’s commercial revenues can “trickle down”. Soka Afrika, a new feature-length documentary which follows two young African players as they try to make it in European football, sets out to show another side to this story.

The film’s two subjects are well chosen. Ndomo Julien Sabo was playing youth football in Cameroon when a French agent persuaded his parents to mortgage the family home to “invest” in their son’s future. Brought to Paris, he trained in a clandestine network of camps around the city’s outskirts, playing trial games against other young imports.

When he got injured the agent disappeared, leaving 16-year-old Sabo completely alone and cold and hungry. He befriended fellow Africans sleeping rough and avoiding the police, and eventually managed to get back to Cameroon, but his parents were not overly happy to see him returning penniless. In Yaoundé he recovers his confidence and form, and returns to Europe better prepared for a professional career.

Ndomo’s story is cut with that of Kermit Erasmus, who was spotted by Feyenoord playing youth football in South Africa. This move went much more smoothly – at only 18 he is playing first-team games for satellite club Excelsior, showing off his fancy mobile phone to a former school-mate in a Port Elizabeth township and playing a football game on his big-screen TV in his nice apartment in Holland. He’s a cocky enough character but still likeable. We see him scoring three goals at the 2009 Under-20 World Cup in Egypt, but also struggling to make the step up with his club and the national senior team.

The film is stylishly put together by director Suridh Hassan and producers Simon Laub and Sam Potter, looking more like a relatively big-budget current affairs feature documentary than a typical fly-on-the-wall football film.

There are funky colourful credits and titles, an African drum-heavy soundtrack and edgy camerawork digitally filtered to bring out the greenness of Yaoundé and the greyness of Europe. The film-makers got great access, with the camera in the South African dressing room for pre-game team talks, on the touchline with openly unscrupulous agents at games in Cameroon and even with Sepp Blatter making a patronising contribution to a “Football for Hope” conference in South Africa.

The real star of the film is Jean-Claude Mbvoumin, a former Cameroon international who played club football in the 1990s in France before founding Paris-based NGO Culture Foot Solidaire. Mbvoumin describes the way promising young African players are brought to Europe as “child trafficking” and helps join the dots to make the film’s case.

Clubs and agents in both Europe and Africa, national football federations and under-age coaches, FIFA, even players and their families are all complicit in the system. Everyone involved knows the unwritten rules of the game. There is no surprise when Sabo is dropped from the Cameroon Under-20 squad as he cannot afford to pay the required bribe. “Corruption is everywhere,” Mbvoumin says. “I can’t say one country is more corrupt than others.” It would be better for everyone if African players stayed at home until they were ready – both in a footballing and personal sense – for the move to Europe he reckons.

Football for everyone in Soka Afrika is a means to get rich (or get by), not a goal in itself. Both Erasmus and Sabo really believe in the “rags to riches” possibilities. The film concentrates more on their concerns about making a living and building a career than training methods or tactics or trophies. We see a modern business structure feeding on the hopes of the resource and information poor. A few thrive and are successful, but many of those who make the big bucks are not the most deserving. The context could be any similar industry – perhaps fashion or music – where large numbers of talented young people with dreams are chewed up and spat out by the system.

Soka Afrika is produced by Masnomis and was screened in London during the Kicking & Screening Soccer Film Festival on September 23-29. For more information see sokaafrika.com

From WSC 296 October 201

The football world had a lot to say on the London riots. Paul Campbell believes not all of it was sensible

When the violence on the streets of north London began to spread across the country, it was inevitable that football would play a part in the discussion. Like most people, the football writer Ian Ridley watched the news and felt helpless. Unlike most people, however, Ridley thought that the game could somehow save the supposedly broken Britain.

“At times like these, you can feel helpless and peripheral in the sports pages, which always used to be known in newspapers as the toy department,” said a mournful Ridley in his Express column. “Maybe football can play its part in repair and healing, however. The thugs have won a battle. Let us hope they don’t, metaphorically, win the war… As the opium of the masses, it is far healthier than any liquid or substance. Or internet obsession.”

While Ridley bastardised the writings of Karl Marx, Henry Winter drew attention to the teachings of that other political heavyweight, Rio Ferdinand. Without sounding at all worried about the implications of his statement, Winter claimed that Ferdinand’s “voice certainly carries more resonance on inner-city streets than any politician’s”.

Perhaps it shouldn’t be surprising that those working in the football industry afford the game such importance. But it is a little concerning. Men who know a lot about kicking balls aren’t necessarily going to be great at constructing government policy, as Ian Holloway proved in the Independent. The Blackpool manager used his media platform to call for the rioters to stop smashing up shops and be more like Paul Scholes, “who went through his whole career without even a whiff of an off-the-field issue”. Holloway also pinned some blame on the media, arguing that “if the TV cameras weren’t there and we didn’t know about it I don’t think the rioting would have sparked up anywhere else”.

Holloway wasn’t the only football manager with an opinion. The Sun carried a double-page interview with a “sad, sickened and angry” Harry Redknapp, who blamed the riots on a breakdown in family values. “When I was 12 or 13, boys would meet their football manager dressed in a blazer or at least a pair of trousers. Now some of them turn up to see me wearing a pair of jeans with their arse hanging out. They just don’t care.” Stan Collymore called for help: “I want to know where the musicians, actors and rappers are at a time like this?”

With the great and the good of the football universe calling for action, it was left to a man still playing the game to offer some sense. David James, writing in the Observer, wondered how young people could relate to footballers at all: “While it is true that most of us have had a council estate upbringing, most now live away from those communities, enjoying a lifestyle that is light years from the kids we are talking about… Are people really going to listen to a millionaire footballer living in a plush mansion telling people who are struggling to make ends meet on a council estate to calm down?”

James went on to suggest that long-term engagement with a community would make more sense than taking a few seconds to type “Stop the violence” into a mobile phone. With this thought in mind it was heartening to see Peter Crouch and Benoît Assou-Ekotto involve themselves in the clean-up along Tottenham High Road. Football isn’t the opium of the masses and an involvement in the game doesn’t bring with it statesmanlike authority. But footballers, like everyone else, can help their communities most when they’re a part of them.

From WSC 296 October 2011

Not everyone is convinced by the crocodile tears and PR onslaught of a controversial midfielder’s transfer saga, Mark Brophy among them.

Joey Barton’s departure from Newcastle United a few days before the end of August was the end to a long, tortuous tale. The club claim he drew away from negotiations on a new contract shortly after the sale of Andy Carroll without replacement in January, followed by the withdrawal of their contract offer, and ever since it has seemed likely that Barton would leave. Despite other influential players also leaving in that period, Barton’s public pronouncements through the summer have guided the story rather than the series of transfers.

In terms of events the narrative is a straightforward one. A player concerned about the direction their club is taking, and seeking a new and improved contract with a year to go on the old one, doesn’t receive an offer meeting his expectations. As the summer draws on the player engineers a bust-up with club staff and is informed he can leave immediately on a free. Just before the end of the transfer window another club makes an offer which he accepts.

What is different here from, say, Samir Nasri’s move from Arsenal to Manchester City is Barton’s use of social media to communicate directly with fans. Whereas Nasri criticised Arsenal supporters both before and after his move was complete, Barton tweeted his version of events always in a way guaranteed to appeal to Newcastle fans. The bust-up itself partially took place on Twitter, Barton repeatedly criticising the way the club was run, though he was careful to restrict his criticism to the club hierarchy.

He claimed he would only leave for football reasons to a Champions League club, his frustration at the club’s transfer dealings being a factor. He then claimed he wanted to stay but was continuing to wait for a contract offer from the club. Even at the 11th hour, having spoken to QPR, his eventual destination, he communicated his need for time and space to think, the inference being that he was torn by the possibility of leaving a club for which he felt a genuine affinity.

The saga as viewed through the Barton prism fed into widespread supporter disquiet at the running of the club. He portrayed himself as a victim, being forced out by a club wishing to rid itself of a high-earning player who no longer fitted their preferred profile. There’s a certain amount of truth to this in the sense that if the club felt he was worth it they would have offered him more. A display of reluctance to leave even when offered more money again played to the wish of the fans to believe that the player feels the same as they do.

Many fans took his tweets at face value, which gained him considerable support in the stand-off. That might not have been true had he attempted to put his case via more traditional media, being filtered by the view of the reporter in question. If Barton’s primary purpose was to highlight the club selling last season’s best performers without adequate replacement, then it is ironic that his actions had the opposite effect, in diverting focus from worries about the club overall onto endless discussion of himself.

The Twitter rant that provoked his transfer listing did not precipitate a change in modus operandi at the club but instead created an opportunity to gain a lucrative transfer for himself. The Champions League suitors happily confirmed initially by his agent failed to materialise. He leaves to a club with a no more impressive list of summer transfers than Newcastle, though with better communication of their ambitious vision for the future following a very recent takeover.

With a year left on his contract he had no need to go anywhere immediately and, whatever reluctance to leave he may have felt, leave he eventually did. So this cannot in truth be portrayed as a move for footballing betterment, with neither club likely to trouble trophy engravers any time soon. If leaving by choice, as seems to be the case, the improved contract must have helped concentrate Barton’s mind. Now the transfer has gone through, it is his protestations of loyalty which most jar, a 21st century equivalent of badge-kissing.

Why then did Barton bother with a PR exercise in self-justification aimed at fans of a club he was agitating to leave, if that is what he was doing? Cod psychology might suggest Barton’s overriding need to be loved, but he could more reasonably have been driven by a wish to maintain the possibility that the interest of other clubs would persuade Newcastle to offer the contract he desired. If Barton’s time at Newcastle is to have a legacy, it may be that players become aware of an easy method of hedging their bets publicly while pushing for a lucrative move behind the scenes. 

From WSC 296 October 2011