Football deserves nobler heroes

13 April 2012

Like any decent human drama, football would be less thrilling if it didn't have a place for dodgy attitudes: cloggers and divers have always been integral to events out on the field, just as the financial manoeuvres of the game's duckers and divers have long entertained us off it. Dubious morals are part of the rich tapestry, never mind that they don't bring the word "marvellous" even to Ron Manager's mind. Yet, with the start of another star-spangled, money-spinning, media-fixating Premiership season, an awkward little question still demands to be asked: why can't our Premiership stars do something useful with their lives?

Take Ryan Giggs of Manchester United, who recently pocketed his coolest million yet - the profits from a oneoff contest with Celtic. It launched his testimonial year, designed to make a rich man even richer. After rumblings of disquiet, it was announced that Giggs will donate some of his booty to charities. But no one will say how much. And whatever does he do with all his dough?

At least Giggs is a player whose conduct as a public person both on and off the field has generally been good. The same cannot be said, though, of too many fellow pros. In the sad wake of Paul Gascoigne is a long and sorry list of Porschecrashers, beer-swillers, nightclub-brawlers and womanworriers - and those are just the ones not facing charges.

It is easy to sound pious about English footballers having more money than sense. The obsessive, inward-looking bloke culture they inhabit largely precludes acquiring wisdom about the wider world: seriousness is mocked, sensitivity is punished, and any interest in books is equated with a taste for buggery. Hence their outlook on their great mounds of disposable income. What else is all that money for if not to advertise their triumphant power? Mid-Sixties images of a young and lovely George Best lounging against a sports car remain seductive to this day: no wonder so many who've come after him run out of self-control.

Yet not every footballer is a Midas or an oik, and there is no ultimate reason why better values can't be nurtured, as in the football academies of Holland and France. We need to move quickly. Always replete with symbols for society at large, the English game has come to represent not only the growing gap between the most fortunate and the least but, even worse, the "so what?" attitude that now goes with it.

Many shrug that that's the justice of the market. Even our Labour Prime Minister seems to subscribe to this view, sniffily dismissing suggestions that Britain is a worse place for the widening gap between the boss class and the masses.

A prissy little thing over other moral matters, Mr Blair's unconcern is nowhere more apparent than in his sucking-up to football's superpowers. Perhaps he dare not do otherwise: why, Sir Alex Ferguson might stop being his mate. Nobody, it seems, may raise a word against big football's gluttony. When Richard Caborn, the new Minister for Sport, said that if high earners like Giggs are to go on having testimonials they might at least be asked to pay tax on the takings, he was slapped down by the Treasury. When Gordon Taylor, chairman of the Professional Footballers' Association, was questioned about it on Five Live, his line was uncharacteristically flippant.

That isn't good enough, and nor are the stock responses Taylor and others offer in defence of top players' crazy wages. OK, it's "a short career", but five seasons in the Premiership will set you up for life. Sure, serious injury can make a career even shorter. So can falling off a roof, but most builders would swap places any day.

Yes, it's true that rock and movie stars earn comparable sums. The difference is that they do benefits for those less lucky than themselves, not to add yet another lining to their own pockets.

The big money has to go somewhere, and I would sooner it went to players than to spivs and City slickers. But those players must now take the lead in making their industry stand for nobler things than arrogance, acquisitiveness and destructive laddishness, especially in view of the indifference of so many of their clubs. The odd gesture to charity is no longer enough. No one is asking them to pull on a hair shirt, but it is time they put their wealth and influence to broader and better use.

In small ways, that is already being done. England captain David Beckham clearly knows what he is worth, yet has developed into an admirable national figure, a man who respects his wife, adores his son and doesn't mind having his leg pulled in aid of Comic Relief - something to build on there. Taylor and the PFA have helped fund and promote excellent community football schemes and campaigns against racism in the game. The Football Association is mindful of such matters too.

Yet so much more could be done. With goodwill and organisation, long-term philanthropy, serious social investment and simply being a good citizen could be integral elements of the football industry, as they have historically been in other great industries.

The concept of the Greater Good has slipped into disrepair. Football's heroes have a duty to help bring it back into style.

Dave Hill is the author of Out Of His Skin: The John Barnes Phenomenon, an investigation into racism in Merseyside football, now out in a new edition.

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David Jones (Footballer)

Football deserves nobler heroes

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