The Fireman Hath Honor...

The firefighter hath honor, but only when the fire is raging. Few, very few people remember him the moment the inferno dies down. It is such a dispiriting job.
Mr Sam Allardyce, erstwhile coach of Everton Football Club, England should be the last person to be surprised by his recent sack by the club. He has said he is disappointed by the decision of the club but that is a feeling he should have inured himself against. In his storied managerial career, and few coaches, football or not, have lived through more interesting times, sacking has always been his lot. From Newcastle to Everton.
He knows he is a fireman, to be called in only in times of disaster raging or about to break out. He is the guy directing the water hose or wielding the axe to break down doors and hurl himself into a raging inferno. He is the muscular rescuer, savior, football's superman. He smashes into car doors to pull out the trapped and injured or dives into water to hold aloft the drowning, the sinking, give him something, even a straw, to cling on to. Even the drowned is not beyond his attention. He has led Bolton and West Ham from the lower rungs of British football back into the Premier League.
He knows he is not the elegant, sophisticated conductor directing an orchestra. Leave that to the Wengers and Guardiolas. Such sophistication, refinements are for Arsenal and Manchester City, clubs least likely to be entangled in the dangers of sinking or drowning. Therein the lines are already written and arranged, the only problem is for performance to be made perfect, flawless. Allardyce is the wild savage, body stripped bare save for a cluster of leaves covering essentials and streaked into a frightening motif, veins coursing wildly with blood, all too eager to plunge into battles torrid and enervating. The beats of calling are from the drums of the primeval tribe and elegance is so far away. He cannot be too chic and classy in the type of hero he wants to be. He was called in when Everton was sinking, sinking badly and he has done the job he was appointed for. It did not really matter how he went about it, if it involved pumping balls into the opponents' box and giving the devil free rein to less loose some of its most feral hounds, so be it. In a drowning, any straw will do. It is safety first and methods later. If anyone still cared about methods.
It is his lot. The job has been done, thanks and goodbye.. He should hardly harbor ill-feelings about his dismissal. It is a very ungrateful world in football. Fans are so demanding and besotted with ingratitude that after safety their next inclination is to bask in the luxury of questioning the methods that brought the result. The heroic fireman soon becomes the distressing, boring villain. And who can really blame them? They own the club, pay to high heavens to be entertained and in the new world, getting value for money is a quest folks don't hesitate to push to extreme limits. It is such an unfair world. He is the strange fireman. People eagerly accept his exertions, his drive and after safety, immediately turn around to question his methods. From their dissenting cacophony in the safety of dry land, you would think they would have preferred to drown in the first place.
But he should not be too dismayed. Drowning, sinking, is a very common accident in football, especially in the Premier League. Infernos break out at will. It won't be long before his services are required again. After all Everton did think they had enough life-jackets when they appointed Koeman as coach. It may be yet that the same club will come begging, cap in hand. Returning, as we say in Africa, to lap up their own vomit. 

Aristotle Mentors Wenger: But the Business of Football is no Business.

"Watch the costs and the profits will take care of themselves."
Poor Arsene Wenger. As a student of economics, he must have gushed over this ancient dictum: one day he was going to run a football club - forget Arsene who? - one of the biggest on earth, and he must have taken old Aristotle admonition as a tool to be taken far more seriously than a managerial wisecrack. He wasn't the only one: for ages, it was an advice that had saved many a business and businessman from collapse and ruin.
Wenger turned out to be an excellent master at tweaking costs. He would buy players dirt cheap and place them under salary structures that were not going to trouble club finances for a very long time and with his undoubted technical ability, mold them into stars that would eventually leave at enormous profits to the club. Aristotle must have beamed with delight in his grave. He also was an excellent salesman. His beautiful brand of football was to do all sorts of exciting things to British football, a brand hitherto notorious for long balls and hooliganism. His football tactics served him well, and so was the financial model that propped up the alluring brand. The pinnacle of his smart money moves was the construction of the magnificent Emirates Stadium.
But the business side of football wasn't going to remain the business of pizza or laundry soap for long. Strange competitors would enter the market. Rich guys with with oversized pockets and king-sized egos. Starting with the Russian oligarch, Roman Abrahamovich, football clubs became mere expensive acquisitions, like yachts, private jets and priceless arts and jewelry. Clubs became expensive toys that helped massage personal egos. In other words, costs no longer mattered, profits even less. Overnight, the double model of success: winning on a solid footing of financial prudence split violently, prudence cast into the abyss of immediate gratification. A satisfaction that could be bought by spending lavishly on the best footballers on earth. The Chelsea model was soon riding hell-for-leather on the increasingly limping Arsenal model.
Wenger's model wasn't going to gain traction too by the ever-changing nature of the game. There was no football during Aristotle's time but even this wisest of all men must have been a bit stretched imagining the business side of this sport: a product with a demand so maddening you could play the most absurd version of Russian roulette with its costs and still come out a winner. Football clubs like Real Madrid, Bayern Munich, Barcelona, Manchester United were incurring hefty costs in acquisition of players and were still making hefty profits. Talent was hemorrhaging at Arsenal under Wenger's watch and there was little he could really do about it. He could not bring new infusion of prime talents and it was inevitable the club would slip rapidly. No Messi or Ronaldo was coming down to Arsenal.
He would eventually bring in expensive talents like Lacazette and Aubameyang into the club but it was all too late. Inertia and rot had set in and such acquisitions were more or less panic buyings. Football has grown malignant. Even not watching the costs is no longer a guarantee that success, which has practically replaced profits, would take care of itself. Aristotle would have been amazed.

Fury of the Fans: West Ham is just the Beginning.

According to his own testimony, Mr Slaven Bilic, former manager of West Ham Football Club, sometimes after he was sacked as manager of the club, perhaps compelled by hurtful soul-searching, decided to place calls to some of his former players, inquiring about what he could have done to avoid the fate that befell him. It isn't a pleasant fate, being sacked from a workplace, and few places are as alluring and glamorous as a sports club, especially a football club. Especially a Premier League club. Nobody cares about the manager that produces his Coca-Cola, or his Mercedes or his Louis Vuitton handbag but all eyes are on Cristiano Ronaldo who manufactures the football the fans gush over on the football field: and Zinedin Zidane, the manager that designs the manufacture. And nowhere is sports scrutiny more intense than the Premier League, an arena filled with money, noise and hype. And emotions and passions so combustible they explode at the slightest ignition. Therein success could be so sweet and rewarding and, moving to the other end of the spectrum, failure that inevitably leads to a sack could be very bitter, painful. Especially for a coach who was certain he had put in a load of credible shift.
The unanimous reply Bilic got from his own former players is as shocking as it is telling: simply, he was not hard enough on them.
In other words, the modern-day football player no longer derive joy and elan from a sport that pays him obscene sums of money, that gives him instant world-wide fame, that helps secure his future. After collecting a fat pay packet every week, he still expects to be whipped in line to do his job. Like an expensive Bugatti that has stalled all of a sudden, he expects to be pushed before he starts.
Take a look at Paul Pogba, sometimes a world record holder not in terms of performance but in terms of the fees paid for his services. Ever since his arrival at Manchester United his services and performances have taken back seat to a whole tranche of issues dominated by speculations and counter denials, searing rumors and conjectures. Now his not being on the field seems more valuable than being on it.
Or Mesut Ozil, a gifted footballer who switches on and off at will. Plays sumptuous football when there is a fat contract to be signed and then slumps to the lowest depths of abysmal football immediately after putting pen to paper. But, be as it may, the Premier League is filled with fantastic performers who take enormous pride in the jersey that they wear and work their socks off to defend the honor of their club. Take the Brazilian Kennedy for example, a role model who decided to jettison the glamor and riches of Chelsea to jump at the chance to play regular football and whose heart-warming performances is one of the major reasons Newcastle is inching gradually towards safety. He is a fantastic example, quite in contrast to the off and on pitch body language we've been seeing at Arsenal, West Ham, West Brom of late.
Happily, West Ham players have gotten their wishes, the push they wish for provided by their own fans yesterday. The manager, David Moyes, was of the opinion the fans crossed literary and figurative lines by invading the pitch to protest their players' dreary performance. Sir Trevor Brooking, an ex-striker of the club echoed similar lines when he said the six home games due to the club before the Burnley game presented an opportunity that is now is in serious jeopardy. Both gentlemen are seriously out of tune with the realities of the modern game. Soccer is a game of passion and emotion, a combustible mix likely to boil over at any time, a game meant for the horde and not gentlemen for whom its rules are obviously drawn for. Everywhere, not England alone. It is telling that a little after the West Ham brouhaha, a similar scenario erupted in France where fans of Lille also invaded the pitch and aimed kicks at their own players after a below par league game. Brooking should have kept his opinions to himself. If you have six home games and you are losing the first of such like that, what assurance have you got that the rest will not go the same way? The rest can as well be moved to the doldrums. Burnley is a decent club and Sean Dyche has done a fantastic job on the players, but West Ham is a massive club, one of the biggest in the world and the fans were not going to take it lightly that the players were not losing to Burnley but have put themselves in a position where losing to Burnley would jar to no end. The defeat was therefore not the iceberg, but the tip of the iceberg that tore huge gashes in the hull of the fierce West Ham pride.
Another pitch invasion will happen, probably at West Brom. Another owner is going to have a coin thrown at him soon, a symbolic gesture towards the Shylocks in football. By fans who are the real owners of such enterprises.

A Letter to Laurent Koscielny's Boy.

Dear Lad,
Many of us who support Arsenal Football Club do not really care about the ownership of the club. As far as we are concerned, it could have been acquired by aliens from outer space. Neither do we worry so much about the board or what even transpires in the dressing room or on the training pitch. Involvement and commitment really grip our hearts when the players file on to the pitch in a match and the referee blows his starting whistle. For the next ninety minutes or so, we clap or cry, shout in joy, ecstasy or in pain and hurt. We could end up in delight or gloom. In short, it is the footballing aspect of the club that really concerns us and in that regard most of our attention dwell on the manager of the club, Mr Arsene Wenger, and the players we revere, almost worship, and whom we dedicate our money and effort and time to watch perform. Players led by your father, as captain of the club.
Good lad, you  must have seen images of that distraught young supporter during the League Cup final against Manchester City. In all likelihood, he is of the same age as you and I had no doubt you must have shared in his pain and trauma occasioned by a miserable defeat. At times, pain and hurt might be the strongest of all feelings that bond us together and I believe your young heart is too good not to be moved. Too young and tender to be oblivious of the fact that hurt and pain have been our lot of recent, young and old, hundreds of millions of Arsenal supporters all over the world. The club is one of the biggest on earth, some say the most elegant, and if only the goodwill and love it receives all over the world can win matches!
So the club has not been doing us a lot of good of recent but, young lad, you've done us a lot of good. More than, I'm sorry to say this, the players of the club led by your father have been doing us of late. By asking your father why the players have been playing so badly of late. During the ninety minutes or so that really matter, the manager is outside the pitch and cannot have too much control over the events that go on on it. He selects the eleven players he trusts will give him and the fans victory. What becomes crucial and goes on to determine victory is the tranche of skills, vision and passion, zeal and determination exhibited by the players in the match. Apart from the manager barking out instructions most of which is not heeded anyway and making two or three substitutions, winning a match solidly rests on the players. Led by their captain.
Hence it is very apt you should ask your father that salient question, apt that he is closer to you in space, time and place than Arsene Wenger. We don't know what he told you but it is an answer you yourself should have seen very clearly, the age being irrelevant. You could see it from outer space. You must have watched the Premier League match with Manchester United in which your father gave the ball away so sloppily that the much hated enemy scored instantly. It was a pure pass to the opponent. It wasn't a more heartwarming performance in the cup final and only on Sunday, Brighton scored their second goal after the captain, the same captain, inexplicably gave the ball away again. You would think that if the captain cannot marshal his troops, he would at least try to organize his defense, a department he was supposed to be a stalwart in and which has come for serious censure of recent in the downward spiral Arsenal has slipped into. In fact the defense is the culprit being fingered now in the continuous abject performances Arsenal has seen of late.
There is no doubt skills are abundant in the club. Your father and his troops have demonstrated that times without number. What has been in remiss is the tranche of zeal, skills, passion and determination. What sears the heart stronger than a sight of players walking so listlessly on a football pitch? Your father was given the honor of rallying the troops and that he cannot even do. That is why Arsenal is playing very poorly. The players have lost the motivation, but not the desire to collect their fat pay packets, and you've asked the right person why?
Did you see the way Aubameyang celebrated after scoring his measly goal against Brighton? He  seemed to be telling us that as long as he gets a goal now and then the huge money spent or being spent on him is quite justified. Leaving team victory and his paymasters, which include you and me, in the lurch.
Football is a ruthless sport and Arsenal players, in a perverse way,  are lucky to have a manager who is too trusting. A manager who expects a player to get up and dust his ass. When it is a very stout stick the ass needs to get hauled up.