Imagine if being a football manager was like “real life”, if you know what I mean. Imagine if being a football manager was like managing a large department store or a large supermarket.
Think about it. You're a regular player for your team and you hear from a team-mate that your manager is leaving and that one of his underlings is taking over on a temporary basis. Then, while you’re on the pitch on Saturday afternoon, three-nil up against your local rivals, you see a bloke in the dugout that you’ve never seen before, and towards the end of the match one of your team-mates tells you that he’s the new manager.
As the days and weeks go on you never properly meet your new manager. He turns up at the training ground with a coffee in his hand, brought from the local branch of a well-known coffee shop chain. He smiles and says hello to everyone he passes, be it the trainee getting the mud off his boots, the cleaning lady, the plumber called in to fix the leaking toilet, or the star player signed for thirty million pounds from Real whatever they’re called in Spain.
He makes no efforts to learn anyone’s names and just stands on the touchline at weekends, clapping his hands and shouting “Come on mate! Sort it out!” when the defensive midfielder gets nutmegged by the opposition's rising teenage star.
And finally, when the legendary star of the team, the bloke who’s idolised by thousands of loyal fans and who announces his retirement due to injury/age/whatever, is treated to a leaving do the manager stands in the corner of the room, claps his hands as the legend enters the room before he turns and whispers to his secretary “why are we here again?”
Yep, imagine if the world of professional football was like the world of professional retail management.
Think about it. You're a regular player for your team and you hear from a team-mate that your manager is leaving and that one of his underlings is taking over on a temporary basis. Then, while you’re on the pitch on Saturday afternoon, three-nil up against your local rivals, you see a bloke in the dugout that you’ve never seen before, and towards the end of the match one of your team-mates tells you that he’s the new manager.
As the days and weeks go on you never properly meet your new manager. He turns up at the training ground with a coffee in his hand, brought from the local branch of a well-known coffee shop chain. He smiles and says hello to everyone he passes, be it the trainee getting the mud off his boots, the cleaning lady, the plumber called in to fix the leaking toilet, or the star player signed for thirty million pounds from Real whatever they’re called in Spain.
He makes no efforts to learn anyone’s names and just stands on the touchline at weekends, clapping his hands and shouting “Come on mate! Sort it out!” when the defensive midfielder gets nutmegged by the opposition's rising teenage star.
And finally, when the legendary star of the team, the bloke who’s idolised by thousands of loyal fans and who announces his retirement due to injury/age/whatever, is treated to a leaving do the manager stands in the corner of the room, claps his hands as the legend enters the room before he turns and whispers to his secretary “why are we here again?”
Yep, imagine if the world of professional football was like the world of professional retail management.
No comments:
Post a Comment