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Drew Whitworth has some good memories of a temporary home, but he’s not sentimental about leaving and never going back

Let’s get one thing straight first. It’s not The Withdean in the same way it’s not, say, The Hillsborough. But somehow it deserves the definite article. It’s a unique place to watch football, with its bank of “temporary” uncovered seating to the south, backed by the woods of a nature reserve, its poky North Stand with a suburban pub behind and its litter of athletics paraphernalia, like the hammer net. There is only one Withdean: thank God.

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Simon Tyers explores the punditry credentials of one of football’s more controversial players, Robbie Savage:

Stating that Robbie Savage is a difficult person to admire is like suggesting Jeremy Kyle could be more equitable. Like Kyle, Savage is the sort of personality who could only have risen to the top of his chosen profession at this specific moment. He’s benefited from the disappearance of the traditional hard man, the short-haired, beefy full-back or defensive midfielder whose raison d’être was to see how many reducers a creative winger could stand, the “that type of player” that no player who lunges in two-footed on an opponent’s shin these days apparently is.

Seen off by clampdowns on reckless tackling, the standard bearer for the player who goes in hard and covers a lot of ground is now a bellicose Scrappy Doo who was once fined for using the referee’s lavatory. Where most retired hatchet-men proudly state their lack of regret for their actions, Savage seems continually flummoxed as to what he’s ever done that people might be expecting him to regret.

Somewhere along the line Savage lost the admiration of fans of the team he played for, which was pretty much all that was keeping him afloat for years. But like most players who seem reasonably approachable and have a certain back-page profile, he was compensated by being invited into the media. Like Stan Collymore before him, Savage proceeded to surprise radio listeners with the breadth of his tactical knowledge and so producers swooped to put him on everything. Like Collymore, the wider exposure has only served to expose his limitations.

In essence, these are threefold. One, he’s still professional footballer Robbie Savage. Two, his natural range is the shrill half-shout. Most importantly, he can’t control his overexuberance when miked up. His comments are usually anodyne but they’ll be delivered as if he’s just been told the oxygen is about to be sucked out of the room. If he can fit a joke in on the end, or just an over the top laugh, he’ll consider it a bonus.

Anyone who saw the ESPN coverage of Man City’s home Europa League game against Dynamo Kiev will be well aware of the deadening touch Savage can bring to any moment. Watching the Premier League’s most singular footballer Mario Balotelli struggle with a training bib, Savage progressed in under a minute from confusion to a lame joke – “I think I’m going to change his name to [expectant pause] Mario Bibotelli!” – which not even Ray Stubbs dignified with a reaction. Having gone for the funny far too early, he progressed quickly to an outraged tone rarely heard outside late night phone-ins on Radio 5 Live. “Is this tonight? Is this now? It’s gotta be a wind-up, this,” he thundered, as if some training ground footage had been accidentally slipped in.

Football Focus, a programme which never met an anodyne footballer it didn’t like, has been using Savage as a reporter for a few months. And so it was that he turned up with pitchside tactical analysis at Everton v Birmingham filmed from an unedifying position adjacent to the cameraman crouching down next to him. This piece was introduced by Dan Walker as “keeping an eye on their tactics – no truck required, though”. It’s always fun to grind Andy Townsend’s reputation back into the dirt at any given opportunity, but the Tactics Truck was a three-minute feature that ran for roughly two months nearly ten years ago. Children the length and breadth of the country must have been seeking explanations from their parents.

Savage then turned up as token Welshman outside the Millennium Stadium ahead of England’s visit, in a production that dealt in national cliches to an extent not seen since the last World Cup game involving an African side – Manic Street Preachers music, helicopter shots of unfurling valleys and a cameo by Miss Wales. Savage was first required to interview Gary Speed, whom he greeted with a Yoda-like fragment of a sentence, “Premier League legend – you are!”, where most people would have used a question.

Afterwards he gave his verdict on Wales’s chances, which was that: “We need the keeper to play like Neville Southall, the defence to play like Kevin Ratcliffe and the strikers to score goals.” Why Ian Rush was overlooked was unclear. No wonder Dan Walker and the pundits had been placed against the backdrop of a local brass band and some chanting children. Clearly someone felt that alternate entertainment might be required.

From WSC 291 May 2011

Arsene Wenger is a man who has always stayed loyal to his purist footballing vision, but is it now time to abandon his principles?

The terms used for the teams at the top of the Premier League have changed during 2010-11; the group once revered as the Big Four are now the more ambivalent “traditional Big Four”. While Liverpool have appeased the masses (and media) by bringing back “King Kenny”, Arsenal have no such party trick available to them.

 The club’s defeats in three Cups between February 27 and March 12 were greeted by a deep despairing groan. After all, apparently Arsenal haven’t won anything recently and, according to David Anderson in the Mirror, “in addition to the flowering of daffodils, another unerring sign of spring is the Gooners’ season disintegrating”. The Sunday Telegraph’s Oliver Brown worried that six years without silverware may be “too much to bear” for Arsenal fans, while in the Observer Paul Hayward described a “merciless vortex” and a “night of a thousand agonies” in Barcelona.

Encouraged by the likes of Emmanuel Petit claiming that Arsenal were “cracking up”, many commentators attempted a deeper interpretation. In the Times, Tom Dart muttered darkly of “long-held weaknesses”, “an underlying psychological block” and that: “If Arsenal did not need a session on the therapist’s couch before, perhaps they do now.” A cognitively minded Duncan Castles backed this up in the Sunday Times: “In times of trouble football teams, like individuals, tend to regress to their fundamentals.”

Affectionate epitaphs were prepared in advance for Arsène Wenger. Mick Dennis of the Daily Express offered a defence: “Wenger’s ‘business model’ is a beacon of hope for a game dominated by dosh. If he fails again, the light will go out. Money will have won.” But most were harsher. The News of the World mocked What’s your excuse this time Arsene? and the Sunday Express wondered whether Arsenal’s manager was now “more manic and barmy than Gallic and charming”, questioning Is le Prof losing le Plot? A prevalent leitmotif of the criticism was reference to Wenger’s new choice of outerwear – a voluminous knee-length puffer jacket. In the People, Dave Kidd asked: “Will the Arsenal board ever seriously question the man in the technical area with the sleeping-bag coat and the increasingly crazed demeanour?”

Indeed, while attention was focused elsewhere, it was quietly announced that the president of the International Fencing Federation, Alisher Usmanov, had increased his Arsenal stake to “over 27 per cent”. The Russian billionaire has previously called for heavy investment in the team and failed with a proposal of a rights issue to raise transfer funds in 2009. If Usmanov continues his gradual share accumulation, Wenger may well be forced to consider his policy of prudence. And further internal uncertainty at the club should worry the manager far more than cod psychology, generalised football “philosophy” or whether his giant padded coat is slightly too big for him.

From WSC 291 May 2011

Fabio Capello has not always been in the media’s good books, and his controversial decision to strip Rio Ferdinand of the England captaincy has hardly helped to promote his media reputation

With some Premier League teams playing only two games in March, and with England’s only competitive fixture against a team ranked 116th in the world, you would think there was little for football writers to report on this month. But when there is little else to say in English football, one subject is always ripe for discussion: the terrible performance of the national team’s manager. For a man who is said to be an awful communicator, Fabio Capello’s words are taken very seriously by the football press.

Capello’s one task this month was to beat a team that conceded four goals to Switzerland in their previous competitive match. But he managed to burden himself with the additional concern of who would captain the country. In light of Rio Ferdinand’s recurring injury problems, Capello announced that John Terry would be reunited with his beloved armband. Capello being Capello, he didn’t inform Ferdinand of this decision – presumably thinking he would find out on Twitter – and he didn’t make it clear whether Terry’s promotion was to be permanent.

This ambiguity, which any smart reporter would draw out over the week to fill a series of quiet news days, was met with fits of anger in the papers. Instead of thanking Capello for donating them a minor story that could be developed into a saga, the press reacted furiously. “Fabio is out of control,” said Shaun Custis in the Sun. “His reign is verging on the ridiculous,” claimed the Mirror’s Martin Lipton. Ian Wright was “staggered” by Capello. Terry Butcher wondered if he had “lost the plot”. And a slightly suspicious Gary Lineker used his News of the World column to pose the question: “Does this fella really want to be in the job?”

Capello’s indecision not only managed to rile the pundits, he also upset some of his players. “He has alienated Rio Ferdinand, offended Steven Gerrard and sparked a flurry of text messages among the England players,” reported Lipton. The Mail on Sunday’s Rob Draper claimed that the players were “rapidly losing their last vestiges of respect for the manager” and that Capello would face their fury before the Wales game. As it turned out, when asked by Capello if they objected to Terry’s reappointment, the players stood in apathetic silence.

While the deposed Rio Ferdinand was said to be bewildered, devastated, appalled, wounded, angry, disappointed and infuriated, Terry settled back into the job in typical fashion – by contesting that he should never have lost it in the first place. There is little left to be said about Terry, but Oliver Kay summed him up well in the Times: “A psychoanalyst would have a field day with John Terry.”

Among the great wailing and gnashing of teeth, the actual importance of the captaincy was lost on most writers. Thankfully the Daily Telegraph’s Matthew Norman added a sense of perspective: “There is no more irrelevant honorific position in national life, including Silver Stick-in-Waiting.” Norman also pointed out that, aside from receiving immunity from red cards in the Premier League, no one quite knows what an England captain does. But we shouldn’t let a small matter like detail get in the way of what the Sun called “the astonishing England captaincy fiasco”. It was distressing for everyone involved, but at least it filled a few back pages.

From WSC 291 May 2011

With more live football broadcasted every season, should players and managers start showing more respect on and off the field?

FA Cup broadcasts are often introduced by a montage of winning captains brandishing the trophy. Liverpool’s victory in the 1992 final never gets shown, however, because their captain, Mark Wright was clearly seen to shout “You fucking beauty!” as he raised the Cup over his head. Wright was one of the more belligerent players of his era so it’s quite likely that this was a spontaneous outburst. It’s also possible that it was an in-joke, referring to the fact that a Liverpool team-mate, John Barnes, had shouted exactly the same thing – seen in close-up, on live TV – when his last-minute free-kick forced extra time against Portsmouth in the semi-final.

Neither incident seems to have triggered a reaction in the media. More live matches are now transmitted every month than were shown in the whole of 1991-92. There will be moments in every live game that the camera catches a player swearing, at a team-mate, an opponent, a referee or in a celebratory hug after a goal. If every oath had to be accounted for in the post-match analysis, there would be no time to discuss the game.

So it’s difficult to understand why Wayne Rooney’s outburst after completing his hat-trick in Man United’s recent win at West Ham should have become one of the most widely discussed moments of the season, one that, at the time of writing, seems likely to be punished by a two-match ban.

Rooney’s mental state has been the subject of intense speculation since the 2010 World Cup when he swore into a TV camera in response to boos from the England fans after the match against Algeria. That incident did further damage to a public image already dented by the tabloids’ forensic exploration of his private life. Rooney has appeared to be unsettled ever since, his sullen demeanour not lifted by a recent improvement in form. Someone on a basic weekly wage of £250,000 can’t expect to receive much sympathy but some of the derision aimed at Rooney by sections of the press seems to be rooted in resentment that someone from his background should earn as much as he does.

It’s been said that if leading a blameless life was a prerequisite for being England captain, hardly anyone in the current international squad would be eligible for the armband. But they are fêted as celebrities by the same media that routinely vilifies them. Rooney’s outburst at Upton Park was caught on screen because a cameraman followed him around the side of the pitch and stuck a lens in his face. Sky boast about their ability to make the viewers feel as though they are in the middle of the action but while TV is keen to be seen as a participant in football – as witnessed by its ceaseless lobbying for the introduction of technology – it is still only an observer. Swearing at a referee rightly earns a card; doing the same thing to a camera lens might look crass but it shouldn’t be actionable.

The FA’s reaction to the Rooney incident has been presented as a boost to the ailing Respect campaign which is due for one of its regular overhauls. There is little doubt that players are becoming increasingly disrespectful to match officials, who are further undermined by television’s intense scrutiny of every decision. Managers could take steps to curb their players’ behaviour. If they don’t it can only be because they believe that intimidating an official can have positive benefits.

The Premier League’s chief executive, Richard Scudamore, is to give evidence to a parliamentary select committee on football this month, at which he is expected to announce that a retooled Respect campaign will be in place for the start of 2011-12. But there is no reason to think that it would rein in Wayne Rooney’s boss, who is more disdainful of referees than any other figure in football.

Sir Alex Ferguson received a five- match touchline ban for suggesting, among other things, that referee Martin Atkinson was biased in his handling of a 2-1 defeat at Chelsea in March. He seems unfazed by the punishment, saying: “I got done for what I considered fair comment.” Ferguson often seems to be beyond the control of the football authorities – his failure to speak to the BBC since 2004 is in direct contravention of League rules – but a more rigorous enforcement of the Respect guidelines would surely involve regular confrontations with him.

Scudamore should press for tougher sanctions against Ferguson whenever he oversteps the mark in his criticism of officials. Otherwise campaigns to boost referees’ authority will have no effect until their toughest opponent retires.

From WSC 291 May 2011