In the way these things
happen I first learnt of the death of former England manager Terry Venables
from one of those automated signs that relay bus times, adverts, and headlines
to passing shoppers.
Venables was, an obituary
published by the BBC said ‘one of football’s brightest minds and most
innovative coaches’ [1]. Going on to say ‘He
may have been an acquired taste to some with his colourful personality and
well-chronicled life in business but never by those who played for him, where
Venables is regarded with virtually unanimous respect and affection for his
superb man-management style and his razor-sharp tactical acumen’.
Dagenham born Venables
started his career with Chelsea in the 1960’s, going on to play for Tottenham,
QPR, and Crystal Palace and won two England caps. He managed Crystal Palace,
QPR, Barcelona, Tottenham, England, Australia, Middlesbrough and Leeds United.
Most famously of all in his
two years as England manager he led the team to the semi-finals of Euro 96.
Following the announcement
of his death tributes poured in from players and managers.
Former England captain Gary
Lineker described him as “the best English coach we’ve had’, going on to compare
him with Manchester City manager Pep Guardiola.
Tottenham manager Ange
Postecoglou told Sky Sports he "If you are asking about a
person who embodies everything this football club has always wanted to be, it
is Terry. It wasn't just about the way he managed or coached; it was the person
he was”.
Current England manager
Gareth Southgate, who was given his first England cap by Venables and went on
to play in the Euro 96 team told the BBC "He was open minded, forward
thinking, enjoyed life to the full and created a brilliant environment with
England that allowed his players to flourish and have one of the most memorable
tournaments in England history” [2].
Sport, and particularly
football, tends to attract hyperbole, every match is a ‘epic’, and any player
who hangs around at the top level is a ‘legend’. At least until he or she proves
to be human and therefore fallible.
Just occasionally though the
hype is justified and never more so than when a personality who was genuinely a
legend passes away. As with the death of Bobby Charlton a few weeks ago [3] the
passing of Terry Venables is, to borrow a quote from the grab bag of cliché, the
end of an era.
Although they were very different
as individuals, Charlton was an elder statesman of the game with the manner to
match, Venables came across, in the best possible way, as a barrow boy done
well enjoying his fame and the opportunities that it brought, they were both living
links to football as it used to be.
The working man’s game
played in stadiums that rose above terraced streets in towns dominated by
factory chimneys and pitheads and watched by crowds in flat caps and mufflers.
Where the players had a pint in the bar after the game and sometimes really did
get the bus home with the fans.
A hard game enjoyed by
people who worked hard and played hard, romanticizing either feels disrespectful.
Venables started his playing career just as
football stopped being something talented lads, like my late father, were told
wasn’t something they could make a living out of and became a means by which the
most talented could become rich and famous. As a manager he bridged the eras
between the ‘old football’ of Brylcream and a fag at half time and the modern
age when players, like Hollywood starlets, have their own chef, stylist and
fitness guru.
Again, romanticization feels
wrong, the newfound fortune and fame ate up young men who hadn’t the wherewithal
to withstand temptation, leaving in its wake a sad litany of names, Best,
Merson, Gascoine, et al remembered for squandering their talents. Clubs were
all too often if not complicit in than at least culturally indifferent to the
toll taken by dissipation.
Venables did, as the
comments from his former players testify, care about their welfare. He also
avoided the vilification heaped inevitably on the heads of football managers by
treating journalists as if he liked their company. In return they refrained
from adorning his head with various vegetables whenever England hit a run of
bad form.
Now he’s left the pitch for
good the obituaries are, rightly, tinged with genuine regret, something that
cannot be recovered has been lost.
Football has changed, modern
players are sober, modest about their wealth and refreshingly willing to use
the platform provided by their fame to promote good causes. Managers are more
likely to present as slick CEO types or technocrats happier with spreadsheets
than people, in their company Terry Venables would seem as out of place as a
Model T Ford in the parking lot of a corporate headquarters.
There will always be great
players, some of them in the current England team, and managers will be awarded
the laurels of greatness, so long as they keep winning, Gareth Southgate, who
owes so much to his former bass may be among their number.
Fame and fortune will always
follow those who can play a game that is beautiful and cruel in equal measure,
if Southgate and his team ever do win the World Cup, and they very well might
they could even parlay it into immortality. It is unlikely though that they or
any of their contemporaries will ever inspire quite the same amount of
affection as ‘El Tel.
[1] https://www.bbc.co.uk/sport/football/67537649
[2] https://www.bbc.co.uk/sport/football/67537553
[3] https://www.bbc.co.uk/sport/live/football/64628874
