Be Careful What You Wish For (27 page)

Invariably English players were overpriced, for no other reason than their nationality, as ludicrous as it sounds. And the eagerness, or perhaps desperation, of promoted teams to build a squad that met the expectations of the fans as well as your own ambitions frequently forced you into the European market, which is where we found ourselves. In my view, being forced into the European market because of price rather than ability to some extent reflects the current state of English football. Perhaps it is why we continue
to
have an overinflated opinion of our players and an underwhelming level of achievement

If our scouting network in England was challenged imagine our lack of expertise in a European market! But needs must.

As I was contemplating this I was invited to attend the annual summer AGM of the Premier League. The Premier League’s communications director Phil French reached out via my friend the journalist Paul Smith, requesting a meeting with the chief executive Richard Scudamore, who was apparently intent on telling me how to conduct myself in the Premier League.

Suffice it to say I took an exception to such a summons as I had no desire to be told how to behave.

No sooner had I ‘politely’ declined this request for an off-the-record chat, I accepted the invitation to attend the annual Premier League summer summit.

I attended this two-day meeting for precisely two hours! Reflecting on the worthless meetings I had attended in the Football League whilst driving up towards Leicestershire, I decided that I’d get in, show my face, and depart as quickly as I could.

At the meeting of all the great and good of English football were my old pals David Dein of Arsenal, David Gold of Birmingham and such luminaries as Rick Parry of Liverpool, Peter Kenyon of Chelsea, David Gill of Manchester United and my old Geordie mate Freddy Shepherd the Newcastle chairman.

In the first meeting the newly promoted clubs, West Brom, Norwich and ourselves, were officially welcomed to the Premier League. Then there was a series of discussions surrounding developments with overseas rights and my particular favourite, rule changes!

All this was followed by a particular set of affairs I suspect explained Scudamore’s attempt to muzzle me prior to the AGM.

Part of Scudamore’s annual pay package included a ridiculous bonus for negotiating a new TV deal, which was surely a significant reason for him being there in the first place.

After he was asked to leave the room, David Gill, the chief executive of Manchester United and head of the Premier League’s remuneration committee, announced that Scudamore should receive a £1 million bonus, which actually is peanuts compared to the £3 million bonuses he gets now.

I raised my hand and was given the floor. ‘How bloody much?’

There was an audible intake of breath. David Gill gathered himself together and then said, ‘Firstly, welcome to the Premier League, Simon, and secondly: nicely phrased first question.’

He went on to explain that Scudamore had negotiated the biggest Sky deal in Premier League history and considered this bonus appropriate.

I was forced to accept this, despite adding for the record that I considered achieving such things was what he was paid for and my grandmother could have negotiated a good deal with Sky in light of how desperate they were to retain the rights. I was promptly kicked under the table by Freddy Shepherd to pipe down, which I did muttering and grumbling under my breath a bit like Dick Dastardly’s sidekick Muttley.

As the meeting wound down I decided that I wanted to get back into London. I departed, neglecting to appear in the annual photograph. I left Phil Alexander, who loved being in front of the camera, to sit in for me.

Soon after the Premier League meeting, with Dowie number one basking in Dubai and earning money for coaching rather than selecting players and Dowie number two trying to identify transfer targets, I decided to take a break from this febrile activity.

I flew home to Spain taking a group of close friends to my house
for
some rest and recreation and also to go to Portugal to watch England v France in Euro 2004. Amongst my group was Ray Winstone the actor. He had starred in a film,
Sexy Beast
, where in one scene he jumps onto a lilo and stays on it. This feat eluded the rest of the gang and we spent days wagering who could land and stay on a lilo in the pool, so Raymond, who conveniently neglected to tell everyone about his prior skills, unsurprisingly cleaned up.

When we tired of lazing by the pool and raucous nights in Puerto Banus, we took a private Learjet to Lisbon. When we landed my phone rang and it was my old pal Ian Wright, who we promptly arranged to meet. Upon arriving in the town centre we embarked on a drinking spree with England fans.

Mixing with fans from all over the country and drinking with them was not something Premier League chairmen did, but I was at heart a football supporter and that resonated with them. The fans loved Ray Winstone, who got very merry and rather raucous as well as ‘rabidly patriotic’; ironic given Raymond was to be a ‘goodwill ambassador’ for England during the 2006 World Cup.

The game resulted in the French getting a lucky win and after a hot day and a disappointing result we wanted to get out of Lisbon as quickly as possible. As we departed the stadium we bumped into the Bolton chairman Phil Gartside and his manager Sam Allardyce.

I always liked Phil and Big Sam. But Gartside couldn’t resist having a dig. ‘Bottling it are we, Jordan? Want to get out before you play with the big boys?’

It was in reference to the article Smithy had written after we secured promotion and where I had admitted I was contemplating selling the club. (Coincidentally on that subject I did receive an approach from Colonel Gaddafi and his son, one I didn’t particularly take too seriously, just as well, I suppose!)

My response to Gartside was: ‘Piss off Phil. When you have put
as
much money as I have in a football club you can speak and by the way who in their right mind considers Bolton big boys?’

It was playful banter with an edge, which I took in good heart, but Ray took exception on my behalf and was all for ‘beating up’ Gartside, which wouldn’t have stood me in good stead at the next Premier League meeting!

As we raced to the airport to get out of Lisbon we were advised there were four- to five-hour delays as all private jets wanted to leave at the same time. But my clever little secretary Lisa had changed planes and we were flying back in a turboprop aircraft, which looked like something out of
Indiana Jones
but was not subject to the same air traffic control. So we walked straight into a hangar, jumped on a plane and took off, waving at people like Noel Gallagher who were sat in the lounge and facing enormous delays. Within an hour we were back in Spain drinking at the bar in Puerto Banus.

Back at Crystal Palace we set about the serious business of establishing the exact financial landscape of the Premier League and buying players.

Putting aside all the media hype about how much promotion is worth, the main beneficiaries of this significant increase in money are very rarely the owners.

It’s not a complaint; it’s a statement of fact.

There is a huge misconception about the benefit that money from promotion brings.

The total amount of nigh on guaranteed money for promotion to the Premier League at the time was circa £19.5 million. Of course this dwarfed the money in the Football League but then so did the costs you were about to incur.

The guaranteed money you received was broken down like this:
in
August you received your first instalment of £10.1 million, which was then followed by nine monthly payments of around £500,000, and two TV-related payments for featured games, one for £2.6 million in January and one for £2.1 million in June. Additionally you received £500K for each league place that you achieved at the end of the season, i.e. £500K for twentieth, £10 million for top, so what we had guaranteed was £20 million if we finished bottom and hopefully upwards of £21.5 million if we finished outside of the bottom three and avoided relegation, which of course was our devout intention!

I had already accounted for the first £7 million. This included bonuses and contractually obligated pay rises, new management contracts and payments to other clubs from whom we had signed players that had promotion bonuses written into their contracts.

I then sanctioned the recommended strengthening of the squad by Bob and Iain Dowie. We brought in twelve new players leading up to the start of our Premier League campaign as well as retaining 95 per cent of the existing playing squad and in doing so spent £6 million on transfer fees and increased the wages by a further £7.2 million.

So all in all with the original £7 million it added up to £20.2 million plus the best part of £500K in agent fees, which thus accounted for all the Sky monies and more. That was before the dramatically increased costs you encountered including the five-star hotels the team had to stay in and travelling by air.

See what I mean about little benefit for the owner? But of course I did have the ‘priceless’ kudos of owning a Premier League club.

The players we bought were from far and wide, from Budapest and Quito in Ecuador to as near as Southampton. The list of clubs we purchased players from had some exotic-sounding names: Inter Milan, Hertha Berlin, AEK Athens, Borusia Monchengladbach and Colchester United!

I gave Iain and Bob a free hand in decision-making, merely becoming involved in the financials. The only exception was the Inter Milan deal, which was set up by myself, via Phil Smith the agent and Roberto Bettega from Milan. Bob went out and completed the deal and we signed two highly rated players, Gonzalo Sorondo, a Uruguayan international, and the previously proclaimed Italian wonder kid Nicola Ventola, who had recovered from a serious injury and was now fully fit and raring to go – or so we thought!

The only deal I had serious concerns about was the Ecuadorian captain Ivan Kaviedes, who had been sent over on spec by an agent. It is universally accepted that you don’t buy players from watching a DVD as you are hardly sent a video of bad performances and watching them in training is no substitute for watching them in competitive action. Despite my concerns Iain and Bob pressured me to pay a £600,000 fee for this player and I acquiesced.

Now I realise in Ecuador they were used to coups, but very quickly it was established this was not one for Crystal Palace. Within four months Iain had decided Kaviedes was not good enough and wanted to release him. I had to pay up a significant proportion of his contract and waste the £600,000 we had paid for him. Given he was so bad it was surprising to see him turn up as one of the star players of the 2006 World Cup, playing against none other than England’s Golden Generation.

One player that we desperately tried to sign was Tim Cahill from Millwall. I knew the player well from watching him frequently and had agreed a fee with the club of £1.5 million, and offered the player three times what he was currently earning. Cahill came to the training ground to meet Iain, while I had the dubious pleasure of engaging with his agent Paul Martin from SFX.

Martin was an argumentative, cocky, flash agent, all Burberry and man bags, and the type I really loved! He told me exactly what
he
would accept for his client, which bore little resemblance to my offer. Despite an hour trying to find a middle ground I agreed to his terms.

Then came the ludicrous demand for an agent’s fee of £150,000 for an hour’s worth of arguments. He expected me to pay for a deal that was considerably more expensive than I had wanted and hadn’t given me a single concession. What I really wanted to give him was a punch on the nose, not a bag of money.

The deal stalled and the atmosphere became very testy. Martin suggested I ask Theo Paphitis, the Milwall chairman, to pick up some of his fee. I phoned Theo in amusement, already knowing the likely outcome, and held the phone from my ear as he screamed obscenities down it, questioning the parentage of this agent.

The deal fell through against a backdrop of recriminations in the press led by my outrage at agents and their demands. Everton had been looking at Cahill for some time and stepped in and bought him. In my view I think we were being used to flush out Everton and Cahill was destined to go there anyway.

To add to my feeling of indignation I had two internal matters to deal with.

I had enjoyed a good relationship with Julian Gray, the first player I had bought back in 2000 from Arsenal. However, in the middle of 2003 he told me he was signing with the agent Paul Stretford, and since then had become truculent and difficult to deal with. We shipped him out on loan to Cardiff at the beginning of the promotion season. Kit Symons had brought him back in his stint as caretaker manager and Julian had been an integral part of the promoted team. But he had developed a disrespectful attitude towards the club. When his contract had expired he refused – or more to the point his agent did – all our offers.

Rules for players’ contracts established under the Bosman ruling
meant
any player aged twenty-four or under at the end of their contract couldn’t just walk out as a free agent. Clubs retained compensation rights. We ended up in a tribunal which would evaluate his worth to us if he joined another club.

It was a terse affair. Gray was petulant and rude and did the Clinton Morrison trick of kissing his teeth, which didn’t go down well with me. The tribunal did not fail to disappoint me setting a ridiculously low fee. We had acquired Julian for £500,000 four years earlier and he had been a first-team regular with 125 games, part of a promotion side and highly rated.

The tribunal awarded us £300,000 and where did he go? Birmingham City.

The other matter was our young starlet Wayne Routledge, who had one year left on his contract. We offered him a new one, fearing we were very likely to suffer another ludicrous tribunal decision but primarily because we rated him highly. Our reward for my care and development of this player and his family was to be told he would not be signing anything by none other than my favourite agent Paul Stretford.