When a hands-on chairman's touch gives a manager a bad feeling

ANDREW SMITH

NO WONDER it ended abruptly and bitterly. "I couldn't believe it... everything was done in secret. The players' contracts were always kept upstairs, they didn't want me to see anything. I was kept in the dark with contracts and transfers. Alex Ferguson, Arsene Wenger and Jose Mourinho know exactly what is going on at their clubs. That doesn't seem possible at this one." These are not the words of sacked Hearts manager George Burley, but of the man who would be his successor, Bobby Robson, reflecting on his time at Newcastle United.

It is believed that the relationship between Burley and the Tynecastle club's owner, Vladimir Romanov, developed "irreconcilable differences" because the former could not remain compliant in the face of the Lithuanian foisting signings on him and issuing instructions as to how they should be deployed.

Yet, the truth is, such conduct hardly makes Romanov the affront to British football sensibilities he has been painted as this past week, as Robson will testify after his experiences with Freddy Shepherd. Famously, the Newcastle chairman entered into negotiations with Patrick Kluivert before his manager had wind of a deal. Far from an isolated example of him playing the transfer market on behalf of a manager of the St James' Park club, Shepherd might share Romanov's philosophy that the man employed to oversee the team should essentially be a coach.

In Scotland, Rangers owner David Murray and his Dundee United counterpart Eddie Thompson have allegedly taken the lead over squad augmentation on occasion. In that, they are far from unusual, claims one Scottish manager who prefers to remain anonymous. "I think the majority of those working in my game have, at one time or another, been bought certain players, advised to buy certain players or had certain players recommended to us," he says.

"When so much of a chairman's personal wealth can be resting on the success of their football club, it can hardly be considered beyond the pale that they want to have a strong input. Equally, most of the men running teams are supporters of them, so naturally are emotional about how they play. In an effort to preserve their autonomy at all costs, sometimes managers can confuse opinions with orders."

Perhaps Burley proved guilty of that, though the confidentiality agreement he signed may prevent us from ever knowing to what extent he was genuinely undermined. It is doubtful if it was to the extent of many of those who have worked under Aston Villa autocrat Doug Ellis, former Chelsea chairman Ken Bates, or even Southampton powerbroker Rupert Lowe. During Paul Sturrock's reign at his club, it has been claimed that Lowe unofficially took on the role of director of football at Steve Wigley's expense.

Yet there appears to be a great deal of subjectivity in assessing the sphere of influence of a chairman/owner. When it comes to Lowe, for instance, former Southampton manager Gordon Strachan offers a different take. "I got on with him brilliantly," says the now Celtic manager. "He just let me get on with it but would ask questions. I think that is good for a chairman to do that and make sure you are doing the right things."

With a hirer-and-firer such as Ellis, few managers seemed to be able to do the right thing. Former Villa player Tony Cascarino has talked of him "parading around the dressing room before matches to add his two-penn'orth to the team talk, often in a chilling manner". Cascarino also played at Chelsea and recalls Bates telling Ian Porterfield he was buying Robert Fleck before warning him that the signing had to make the club a top-six side.

"Some chairmen establish close relationships with senior players to unearth what is happening in the dressing room," Cascarino wrote in a column. "Once players realise that a manager is potentially weak, they may aid his dismissal - if it is to their advantage - through their performance, by showing their disgust at being substituted or by whispers to the chairman."

But in the modern British game, there has been no-one quite like Marseille's Bernard Tapie; lambasted as a "dictator" by Javier Clemente, one of many coaches he binned for refusing to accept his meddling in team selection. Or, for that matter, Jesus Gil, the late, and desperately dodgy, Atletico Madrid chairman. To him, coaches were as dispensable as snackbar servers. He sacked six of these in the a single season alone and appointed no fewer than 23 in his 16 years as club president.

Romanov, about to recruit his third coach inside a year, has a way to go yet.

Taken from the Scotsman