give diego an ice-cream cone, not a job

There is a very good reason why titles such as ‘Ambassador’ exist in football. It is so that the achievements of former great players – many of whom are too thick, and too much of a liability, to actually do anything serious – can be acknowledged without having to actually give them any responsibility.

Cue the news this month that Diego Armando Maradona – the proclaimed ‘son’ of Argentina and the contemporary symbol of Argentinean football – is to be named the new manager of the Argentina national team.

The thought process behind the decision is simple: Maradona is a hero in Argentina – loved and respected by fans and players alike – so, with Argentina struggling as they are in the World Cup Qualifiers, such an appointment will inject hope and excitement across the national spectrum, motivate the players and, in turn, increase popularity of the AFA (Argentina Football Association).

In this sense, the idea is – at least in principle – understandable but, in reality, I fear it is a highly flawed and populist decision.

For starters, Maradona’s track-record in management is less than illustrious. His only experience exists in two short spells in the 1990s – with Argentine clubs Deportivo Mandiyu and Racing Club – both of which resulted in limited success.

Secondly, Maradona’s appointment represents a significant snub to the likes of Carlos Bianchi and Sergio Batista; both of whom were initially earmarked for the job. Add to that the only other notable contender, River Plate’s Diego Simeone – although his lack of success at River suggests his appointment would have been undeserved.

Of the three, it is the failure to appoint Sergio Batista – who led Argentina’s Under-23 side to Olympic Gold this summer – that looks the most surprising oversight. Having publicly declared himself ‘ready’ to take the job, Batista looked like the outstanding candidate prior to the emergence (and, dare I say, propaganda in favour of) Maradona. Batista has, instead, been given the job of Argentina Under-20 national team manager – a step-down in light of his success at the Olympics (Argentina even recorded a comprehensive win over rivals Brazil on the way).

Finally – and certainly most significantly – is the controversy surrounding Maradona’s character, in relation to a history of off-the-field and personal problems.

The myth that Maradona is revered as somewhat of a deity in Argentina is an exaggeration. In reality, he is a cult icon who provokes division and, whilst there are a lot of people that do love him, there are also many that don’t. For all the adulation, there is also a large amount of disdain, and it is worth considering that Maradona is regarded by many as a loudmouth, a troublemaker and a cheat. His infamous ‘Hand of God’ goal against England in the 1986 World Cup was later followed by two separate counts of failed drugs tests: Maradona was suspended for 15 months in 1991 after testing positive for cocaine, and then again for ephedrine during the 1994 World Cup in USA.

Maradona has also been the subject of suspicion surrounding an alleged involvement with the Camorra (a Napoli-based Mafia-like organisation). The Argentine was accused of accepting bribes at the height of a match-fixing scandal which saw Napoli apparently throw away games at the end of the 1988 season. Unrelated, Maradona escaped a jail sentence for firing an airgun at a journalist outside his home in 1994.

Furthermore, Maradona’s health – both physical and mental – has been far from stable in recent years. His demise was compounded in 2004 by the release of a series of altogether rather tragic images, revealing an extremely large-looking ‘Little Master’ – the cumulative effects of a drink and drugs addiction, amongst other things – forcing him to undergo gastric bypass surgery.

Indeed, Maradona has a history of cocaine addiction which dates back to 1983 where, at Barcelona, he was apparently first introduced to the drug. In 2004, Maradona suffered a major heart attack following a cocaine overdose; he was admitted to intensive care in Buenos Aires hospital and very nearly died. Such was his state, that a number of newspapers reported him dead and even published obituaries – (how someone can get away with reporting such news inaccurately is another matter altogether).

In fairness, Maradona has since recovered and is in noticeably better shape than four years ago. Nevertheless, he is a proven liability, and is seemingly unfit to take on such an important and highly-pressurised job. Moreover, Maradona arguably lacks the maturity and mental characteristics to take on a serious full-time job such as this one. Managing a nation’s national team requires a lot of work and an intricacy that invalidates the assumption that one can do the job fuelled on passion alone.

Those who support the appointment of Maradona do so with twisted logic. They argue that the appointment of a strong management team around him – it has recently been confirmed that Maradona will be supported by 1986 World Cup winning coach Carlos Bilardo – ensures the risks are minimised. This I do not doubt, but I think it misses the point and I would argue that the same logic could, to an extent, be applied to anything; such as justifying the call for someone like, say, Michael Parkinson to become Prime Minister (this is presumably the same logic which saw Arnold Schwarzenegger take over as Governor of California State…?)

The wider point is that, by saying this, you are effectively trivialising the job and suggesting that anyone could do it. This is not – or at least should not be – the case. Of course I accept that the entire management team is more important than the individual manager, but it demands a strong leader who is more than just a kind face or – more cynically-speaking – more than just a publicity stunt.

In this respect, my proposition would be to do it the other way around and, rather than have Maradona at the helm, have him as a secondary part of the set up instead. A similar system was successfully adopted during this summer's Olympics. Maradona was invited by then manager Sergio Batista – the man Maradona essentially beat to the job, as mentioned earlier – to play an informal role in chatting and encouraging the players. The fact that Argentina went on to win Gold provides some evidence to the cause that the system worked well and that Maradona’s influence and presence amongst the squad is beneficial in a support capacity. But to be a manager is a different story altogether and there is little to suggest Maradona has the capabilities to offer anything more than this.

Maradona should be commended for his bravery and willingness to take on a challenge that may risk his reputation. His passion and love for the game is clearly still high, and this will work in his favour to ensure his appointment will be met with support. But it is the AFA that should be criticised for taking a risk with Maradona, and for overlooking seemingly better candidates in favour of popularity and publicity.

Time will tell if the risk pays off. The omens are, so far, good. Although he is yet to take charge of a game, Maradona has made a positive start, confirming Liverpool’s Javier Mascherano as captain in what is very much a statement of change. The true test of character will, no doubt, come in months and years down the line. It is possible Maradona and his team will prove to be a success – I certainly do not wish failure upon the man - but I am of the belief that Maradona’s footballing genius should be recognised in the form of such things as a book or even a statue, not a job.

twenty20 vision is where the money's at

If time is of more virtue than money, then someone forgot to tell Sir Allen Stanford. The Texan billionaire landed his helicopter at Lords Cricket Ground last month to announce his grand plan for the future of World Cricket: An annual $20m winner-takes-all Twenty20 match between England and a West Indies all-star team competing under the rather tragic – not to mention egotistical – name of ‘Stanford Super Stars’.

Since its introduction a few years ago, Twenty20 has been met with great enthusiasm. The shorter, faster-paced form of cricket – which has been specifically designed to broaden the appeal of the game – has achieved impressive figures in both match-day attendance and TV audience. So much so, that billionaires like Sir Allen Stanford want to invest.

Before I begin what may seem like an unfair assault on Stanford and his plans, I would like to be clear that I do not entirely dislike Twenty20 – I do not consider myself a traditionalist, and I fully support the idea that cricket needs to shake off its image as a sport that is aristocratic and boring. Furthermore, I appreciate it is genuinely good entertainment – I particularly like the way they play music clips after a wicket, for example – and I understand its overall value to the sport of cricket in terms of intensifying both commercial interest and wealth obtained through broadcast rights, sponsorship etc. There is also the argument, of course, that it will increase levels of competition and performance at County level, as players are provided with a larger incentive to succeed.

That said, it is hard to take the new developments seriously. Stanford’s launch was phoney – so phoney, in fact, it resembled something of a game-show, not helped by the fact he insisted on being joined on stage by a rather large-looking crate of cash – the entire $20m, or so we are supposed to believe. The Next Generation Game, it could have been called.

Joking aside, there was something all rather sycophantic about the occasion. A number of former cricketing greats and ECB dignitaries adorned the stage – Viv Richards, Ian Botham, Nasser Hussain, Garfield Sobers and ECB Chairman Giles Clarke, to name but a few – all of whom took their turn to fawn after Stanford; the sales-pitch tone of Hussain and Botham, in particular, doing little to conceal the faux-ness of it all.

It is understandable that such individuals wish to endorse the proposal. No doubt, the financial opportunities surrounding Stanford’s plan will, both directly and indirectly, benefit anyone associated with the sport – increased broadcast right costs and sponsorships will lead to increased earnings for players, coaches, TV pundits, executives and so on. Such retribution should not be begrudged for an industry that has never been rich in the way that football is. But it would have been nice to see a slightly more honest response.

Sycophants and helicopters aside, it was more than just the day itself that left me feeling sceptical. Indeed, there are a number of assumptions that – implicit as they are – generally upset me about the whole Stanford Twenty20 concept and, more specifically, about the winner-takes-all approach.

Firstly, it sort of assumes that sport is only enjoyable if it is fast-paced and centred almost entirely around the notion of Attack. This, to me, is absolutely not what sport is about – least of all cricket – and I think this sends quite a depressing message to people that we should (or only have the capacity to) appreciate loud things that are shoved in our faces, and that fun only exists in the form of parties and fanfares, and that we are solely driven by quick, firework-like excitement as opposed to appreciating the many more intricate things in life or society.

The recent appointment of Kevin Pietersen as England Captain further demonstrates the growing presence and momentum of such an attitude. Pietersen is, for all his talent, a loud and ostentatious man; self-confident (if not a little arrogant) – a far cry from the understated Vaughan that preceded him as captain.

In fairness, both Twenty20 and Pietersen enthusiasts would argue the game promotes the philosophy that people should enjoy sport and, furthermore, that people should be expressive and positive in their general approach towards things. Such enthusiasts would also argue Twenty20 is not quite as primitive a sport as I am making out – the technical and tactical subtleties involved in traditional cricket also exist in the shorter game, of course. However, what Twenty20 is missing – or, at least, what the sport shows less appreciation for – is the way a game (in the form of a Test Match) develops and evolves strategically over an extended period of time; as two teams endure an exhausting battle of concentration, skill and patience. I think a lot of this is lost in Twenty20 and I think it’s a sad reflection of society that even a game like cricket has to be reduced to a sort of ‘Bish, Bash, Bosh’, Reality TV abbreviation of itself, impelled by a pantomime crowd.

In this respect – and without wishing to stray too far from the subject – it is worth considering that this mind-set is not, by any means, limited to sport. We live in a society that is, frankly, all too focused on immediacy and quick-fix successes: We can’t find time to make our own food – choosing, instead, to buy salad that comes ready-chopped, ready-washed and ready-to-go. It seems we can’t even wait for a person to mature – pushing teenage girls to super-stardom in search of a quick buck (take Britney Spears, JoJo or Miley Cyrus – granted, they are all American). If there is a short-cut to be taken, then someone, somewhere, will take it. Such short-cuts are – in many cases – progressive, but I am of the belief that some things aren’t meant to be sped up. Or hurried, for that matter.

Back to the cricket, and another concern I have with Stanford’s Twenty20 proposal, which is that it promotes the assumption that success only exists in relation to money. Furthermore, it assumes that our motivation to succeed at sport (as either participants or spectators) is dependant on the size of the financial prize at stake. Once again, I think this sends out a terrible message to people and is absolutely not what sport is all about. For me, sport is about teamwork and community; it’s about challenging yourself both individually and collectively; it’s about pride. None of these things have anything to do with money.

On the subject of money, there are also a number of practical issues surrounding Stanford’s Twenty20 plan – specifically in relation to the way in which the prize-money is distributed…

The first of which is that such a huge amount of money – $20m – especially in the form of a win bonus, does not necessarily lend itself well to cricket. Although it is ultimately a team game, there is too much scope for individual successes (or errors, for that matter) for money to be split equally, as is suggested it will be (winning players will each receive $1m, with another $2m split between the rest of the squad and coaches, leaving the remainder to be split equally amongst the national associations). The most explicit example of this would be to consider a case where one player gets a century and another gets a golden duck. Such a situation may very well lead to conflict and political tension within the team. Once again, this is not what cricket is about.

The threat of nepotism is also high, especially considering there is no contract system in place (such as that deployed in the lucrative Indian Premier League). This may seem a harsh denunciation – and one may argue there is a danger of this in all sports – but when you consider the squad will be chosen by a panel of selectors (currently led by Geoff Miller and Peter Moores) and given that even non-playing squad members from the winning side will secure a life-changing amount of money, it certainly seems more than possible that fallouts and political complications may occur if someone is or is not selected.

The significant factor here is that, unlike in football – where everybody at the highest level tends to be fairly rich – the margins are very different in cricket. With the exception of an elite few, the sport has not yet reached the upper level of riches that exists in other sports. As a result, there needs to be a better economic system in place for such dramatic financial injections as that of Allen Stanford’s.

With this in mind, I will be interested to see how the ECB and other National Governing Bodies respond to the foreseeable growth of Twenty20 in the next few years:
The formation of an English Twenty20 Premier League to compete with that of the IPL in India is, inevitably, the next step. Indeed, ECB Chairman Giles Clarke has now confirmed plans to establish a league (commencing in 2010), and discussions are in place to make Twenty20 an Olympic sport in time for London 2012. Clearly this is a sport of growing influence and, as long as the money generated and the attention that it receives is directed in the right way, then it can only be a positive thing for cricket. Longer-term focus must remain a priority, notably in relation to not over-compromising the integrity of the sport and maintaining high standards of 5-day cricket. Personally, I would be glad to see Twenty20 continue to prosper, but not at the expense of Test cricket.