Far be it for me to intrude on private grief, so why not start the countdown to the weekend intruding on the private grief of Bristol City Football Club? I have been criticised by a few Gasheads for expressing an opinion on the Rovers, despite not having gone to a game in over three years, so I suppose it will be jarring to say the least for some City fans to see me expressing an opinion about a team I don’t support. Never mind.
Having led City to a promotion and Johnstone’s Paint Pot Trophy double last season, manager Steve Cotterill wakes up this morning with a metaphorical axe between his shoulder blades. The man who masterminded City’s rise from third tier glory, if there is such a thing, has been found wanting in the Championship. Football, as we are constantly reminded, is a results based business and the results at Ashton Gate have not been good enough.
A well-placed source (a bloke I saw down the pub, actually, but well-placed source sounds much better) told me a few weeks ago that Cotterill had both ‘lost his marbles’ and ‘lost the plot’. I have no idea whether these statements mean the same thing, or indeed whether they are true, but his public utterances have bordered on the – how shall I put this without incurring then wrath of Messrs Sue, Grabbit and Runne? – unhinged. We cannot possibly know the insider’s story, but looking from the outside, is anyone really surprised?
The manager carries the can, of course; never the men (it’s always men) who appointed him. A revolving door was created for the manager at Bristol Rovers after what came an almost fortnightly sacking of managers, before, finally, the club got one right. City are little better.
Cotterill’s sacking tells the story about money as much as anything. With City’s ground development going ahead at full tilt, the last thing they need is third tier football. It will cost them an arm and a leg (it’s hard to avoid adding the word ‘hopefully’ to that) if they plunge into League One and they will look not a little stupid.
I am not an expert in appointing managers, but I do know one thing for sure: City’s next managerial appointment must be that of a firefighter. He must also be able to attract better players in this transfer window, which Cotterill plainly couldn’t. Rovers made the mistake of appointing a succession of managers with no history of firefighting and ended up in the Conference. I am not saying the same thing will happen to the City – although you can always hope – but picking the very best manager might not be the right thing to do if he can’t turn things around here and now.
Some of the names suggested in the media are hilarious. Paul Tisdale, the excellent manager at Exeter and nowhere else. David Moyes, formerly of Manchester United and Real Sociedad. Lee Johnson. Ian Holloway. Joe Jordan, for god’s sake, is at 16-1 with the bookies and that would be a very popular choice in BS7. Nigel Pearson, the man who started the ball rolling at Leicester, less so.
Do I feel sorry for Cotterill? Hardly. He was very well paid for failing this year and he knows what happens when clubs are in danger of expensive relegations. Do I feel sorry for owner Steve Lansdown? Definitely not: the money he will be paying Cotterill in compensation might instead be going to help fund the NHS if he didn’t live in Guernsey in order to avoid paying tax. And the fans? Hardly. I am not a City fan. Anyway, supporters usually end up with the team, club and manager they deserve.
On balance, given the choice, I would rather MK Dons went down instead of City because of what they stand for and what they did to the genuine football fans of Wimbledon and indeed in my ideal world they would both go down.
City have taken an expensive gamble in order to avoid an even more expensive relegation. I don’t care much whether or not it pays off, although it would be nice to see local derbies resumed next season.
There’s a lesson for every other manager here, too. Unless you can emulate or replicate the previous season’s performance, the sack is just round the corner.
