Football is a veritable breeding ground for weird rumours. There are the regular ones, like Kaka’s never-ending links to Spurs. And then there are the more bizarre ones – remember when a 40 year old Maradona was reportedly joining Dundee? Or how about that time when Alan Shearer was supposed to be getting the Newcastle job and.... oh. Well anyway, the one doing the rounds this past weekend – the one which would see Harry Redknapp installed as England manager once our Euro 2012 qualification is (hopefully) assured – struck a slightly different chord to usual. Namely, it’s so stupid that it wouldn’t surprise me one iota if the FA actually went through with it.
Having apparently sourced a few in-the-know bods at FA high command, The People inferred that Harry Redknapp was set to carry England through to the Euro 2012 finals (and perhaps beyond) on a feelgood wave of media-friendly cockney chirp. I guess the thinking here would be that getting Redknapp in would install some intangible sense of 'passion' amongst a group of players whose heads so readily dropped and hearts so easily wilted during the summer of 2010.
Whilst the logic at the heart of this rumour is profoundly warped, the underlying idea is inherently troubling. And it’s the collision of these two aspects which causes me to worry because, as we all know, logic has never been the FA’s forte. It would be very much in keeping with their perverse modus operandi to go ricocheting from one supposed 'type' of manager to another. Ever since Terry Venables disappeared down the Wembley tunnel for the final time, backdropped by a crestfallen Gazza, a strutting Andreas Moller and a tired and emotional Skinner & Baddiel, the FA have embarked on a series of ultimately doomed relationships.
Having initially embraced Glenn Hoddle's progressive ideas, the FA were forced into a rethink once some of his slightly less progressive ideas came to light. There followed the Dark Days of Keegan, when 'old' Wembley's crumbling façade echoed perfectly the shambolic standing of England's national side.
The promised blood and thunder of the “Geordie Messiah"’s reign turned out to be little more than tomato ketchup and an April shower, resulting in some truly regrettably moments. Remember Dennis Wise's spell as a left winger? How about Gareth Southgate fending for himself in the bleak wilderness of the holding midfield role? They were Kev’s babies. When the bepermed one decided to finally hit the showers – metaphorically or otherwise – the FA sought out someone who would add some continental flavouring to our erstwhile meat-n-potatoes footballing palate.
So in came Sven. Ah Sven, with his glasses and his charm and his two-banks-of-four. This was just what we needed, a footballing partner who could show us the world and open our eyes to the big ideas of the modern age. And it all started so well – back to the drawing board we went, enlightening ourselves with seemingly profound tactical ideas, gradually buying into the dream that we were privy to a golden generation. But what we thought was gravitas was just gold-rimmed illusion, and as over-familiarity bred contempt, the same old failings and failures came to pass. His rigidity and principles took England to three quarter-finals on the spin, and yet eventually proved his undoing, vainly seeking to squeeze some final drop of ingenuity from the long-exsanguinated Gerrard-Lampard axis.
Steve McClaren was meant to be the perfect tonic – an eager young thing with a respectable club CV, knowledge of the England set-up and, crucially, a UK passport. How could he fail? Quite spectacularly, as it turned out. If Keegan's appointment had been the rebound hook-up of the needy, the post-McClaren move for Capello was a repeat of the Keegan-to-Eriksson transition; the realisation that something a little more long-term and meaningful was needed.
Having sobbed and ached through these underachieving years, it would make little sense to fire now a manager who, over nearly two full qualifying campaigns, has a record which runs P17, W14, D2, L1. Of the twenty-one competitive matches played under him thus far, a mere two have been lost. To say England's showing under Capello in South Africa was underwhelming would be like describing Fernando Torres as looking a little off-colour, but the World Cup merely represented the mid-way point of Capello's mission. How quickly we leap about in righteous bluster when a team or club sack a manager before they've had a fair crack of the whip – think Ancelotti, think Hughton – and yet many amongst us would have happily seen Fab walk after the tepid performances of that summer. United in indignant rage we were, like feral stags in full charge, and yet where would it have gotten us?
It's not like Capello’s had it easy. Following the initial predictable rush of foreign coach faux-outrage, there came questions regarding (in no particular order) language barriers, tactical caution, captaincy-rotation and the continuing selection of Jermaine Jenas, all of which must’ve taken their toll. ‘Terrygate’ swiftly followed, essentially a lost episode of Footballer's Wives-made flesh, featuring armband-stripping, handshake-rejection and ex-girlfriend-shagging. Thankfully no-one died during intercourse (that we know of).
Then, of course, there was the World Cup. Were the players treated too strictly? Were they unwilling to meet the manger’s demands? Was there a lack of clear leadership? A dearth of technique and imagination? Perfectly pertinent questions all, but I'm not convinced Harry Redknapp is the answer to any of them, at least not right now.
We all know Redknapp is a cut above most when it comes to man-management, appreciative of the difference between an arm round the shoulder and a boot up the rear. But that's not really the point. What we've often been most critical of as a football supporting nation is the perceived short-sightedness of others. If 'arry is to be Capello's successor at some point, history, having repeated itself a few times now, will have already plotted the first few chapters of his reign. Depressingly, our reactions will be similarly predisposed. Redknapp isn't foreign, so he won’t have to worry about the thinly-veiled xenophobia. No, he's English, so after celebrating that for a while we'll take to battering him for liking 4-4-2, which Eriksson and Capello did too but they pronounced it funny so that threw us off the scent for a bit.
It's taken a while, but Capello seems to finally be getting the picture, which would make kicking him into touch now all the more baffling. In recent months we've seen Jack Wilshire, Joe Hart, Stewart Downing, Chris Smalling, Ashley Young and Gary Cahill become England regulars, a sure sign that Capello understands the need to balance the requirements of today with the challenges of tomorrow and beyond. The performances of our youngsters so far this term suggests that, after countless false dawns, England may – may – have finally started bringing through players who are not only comfortable on the ball, but comfortable in their own heads too.
Once next summer has passed, Redknapp's time may have come, and he’ll be tasked with imprinting his own style on the team, as he has with great aplomb at Spurs. So he’s got that to look forward to, and so much more besides. In the meantime let us accept that England won't win the European Championships (I'm reliably told the Spanish and the Germans can play a bit these days) and remain confident that if Capello is allowed to continue on his current path we won't exhibit the same creative flaccidity that we did in South Africa either. That, rumour has it, is called progress.
~ Matt
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