By Geoff Wode
People often ask me, after unrelenting hate campaigns against our previous two managers why did you go easy on Dino? The simple answer is that I believed something positive was going to happen with Dino at the helm. I also believed in Dino’s ambition and passion for the club. Yes, these latter traits were also displayed by Darren Sarll, but no manner of fist-pumping, breast-beating and sexy photo shoots in the local paper were ever going to detract from another turgid performance and another incomprehensible after-match interview. Perhaps, with hindsight, it all came down to personalities, as turgid football has become the norm at Broadhall Way in recent years.
Not feeling the desire to hobnob with lower division football managers, I’ve never met Sarll or Dino; or Gary Smith or Teddy Sheringham for that matter. But there was something about Dino that made me like him. There was something about the others that made me dislike them: perhaps irrationally at first. What they all had in common was that they were not good enough.
Which surely raises questions for those higher up the chain of command. Our last five managerial appointments reads SACKED, RELEASED, SACKED, SACKED, SACKED. If Phil Wallace was hoping to form a Henry VIII tribute act, he might need to tone it down a bit.
Don’t get me wrong; I have no axe to grind with the way in which the, err, axe ultimately fell on our managers:
The axe that I am presently sharpening is aimed firmly at Phil’s recruitment policy. Or that of the board. If there is actually a recruitment policy to speak of and it’s not just a case of throwing pasta at a wall until one strand sticks. Not much has actually stuck since Westley (Mk II) departed seven and a half years ago and successive managers have continued to play football that gives our midfielders, and the paying audience, stiff necks. Imagine that: seven and a half years of the same old stuff, culminating in yet another management experiment gone wrong. Seven and a half fucking years! Yet it’s the (failed) manager who takes the flak and/or best wishes of all concerned as they’re shown the door. Where’s the culpability of those that employ these underachievers? Probably hiding behind their Key Performance Indicators.
Or maybe there’s something else – or someone else – at play here. As one renowned punter has been heard to say, “We might as well give the manager’s job to Leon fucking Hunter”.