Naively, though perhaps indicative of my age during the Moyes tenure at Goodison Park, I was largely taken in by Bill Kenwright’s nostalgic leadership and got behind “The People’s Club” narratives emanating from our Chairman at the time.
Though embarrassed by Bill’s teary media appearances, I believed he was doing a stellar job — in the earlier years, I even thought he was our saviour! I now see that it was Moyes’s hunger, thoroughness, and eye for a bargain which enabled us to “appear” like a well-run club, punching admirably above their weight. A feat maintained for a whole, largely under-appreciated decade which served to plaster over old and new forming cracks in the structures of our great club.
Over the years, the lies unravelled and his entrenched narcissism started to seep from the edges of his carefully practiced smile. Still, I thought there were worse situations and clubs in bigger trouble; he was after all trying to steer an ancient, unwieldy and crumbling wreck of a once great institution. All the while battling fan expectations built on memories of greatness, our motto now only a reminder of what we once were.
We craved the takeover, the riches afforded to our bitter rivals and the other Sky darlings. It finally arrived to great fanfare in the form of an illusive Iranian accountant and businessman. I won’t waste your time documenting what happened next other than to compare the wreckless, ill-considered spending to a childlike fantasy, destined to fall long short of its dream.
I can recall the exact morning I knew we were in trouble: it was 6 years ago on 16 August 2017. I woke to the announcement of the club’s record signing, Gylfi Sigurdsson for £45M. He arrived along with other signings Davey Klaassen and the nostalgic return of a certain Wayne Rooney.
I have nothing against any of these players but what I could not fathom was why we hadn’t fortified other areas of the team and instead brought in three No 10s whilst simultaneously running Ross Barkley out of the club, a product of our youth system. Crucial to my point is that he was a No 10 and one of us. £80m in signing fees and two players on £100k-plus contracts to replace our then second-best player of the same position on relatively low wages. Madness, I thought then… and I still think now.
Of course, many more poor decisions unfolded along with lies, deceit, dubious dealings, and an uncomfortable association with a sketchy Russian Oligarch. However, to me, that splurge told me all I needed to know: we were being run by idiots and it has always symbolised a point of no return for me. The beginning of the end.
This brings me to the title of this article, “The fish rots from the head”. It is a Chinese proverb used to describe how business failings are ultimately attributable to the decisions and principles of the boardroom. I do not subscribe to the view that it’s all Bill’s fault. When he was in charge, we at least semi-functioned as a club. Many will dispute that but we were a Top 7 club and repeatedly considered the “Best of the Rest” – all done on a shoestring.
I do however subscribe to the view that the club’s current predicament is a toxic combination of a foolish accountant who wanted to play Football Manager with the backing of a crooked, Russian puppet-master. A project deeply hampered by his allowance of Bill Kenwright to narcissistically and desperately cling to his train set. All the while trying to placate a fanbase who still expect something we have long been unable to provide.
The resulting dynamic created a clash of ideologies and polarisations which appear to be reflected in the chaos which surrounds our club. Legal disputes with former managers, poor communication, Profitability and Sustainability scrutiny, and an impending independent commission hearing. Players not turning up for training, displaced anger towards our own players resulting in two recent statements from the club. Repeated transfer failings. Yesterday’s news that MSP will take their dollars elsewhere. A circus of media vultures circling above our festering blue carcass.
The “glass half-full” fans did their pre-season best to rally our beleaguered and despondent fan base. We tried to muster some enthusiasm for Dycheball, we tried to generate some hope we can at least be a stable (if uninspiring) team for a few years until we find our feet again with new owners.
Yet here we are praying we can get Ché Adams over the line so we don’t have to play Maupay. Somehow, this Saturday, 3 games into the season, has become a ‘must-win’ match. I fear for Dyche and the atmosphere if it’s anything less than a win. Suddenly, ownership by 777 Partners seems almost like an attractive option. I mean, how can they be any worse?
This brings me to what is actually in our control? Very little, it seems… but we can control where we direct our emotions. We repeatedly see how the passion of many thousands of dedicated and ardent supporters can be overshadowed by the idiocy of a few — the booing of our striker for getting a fractured cheekbone, racial abuse of our own players, people getting ‘handsy’ with board members…
While these incredible fans are almost solely responsible for our current Premier League status after two relegation battles in a row, we must stay united in these dark hours and not displace our anger and disappointment at the players. Instead, get organised and direct it where it well and truly belongs: our board. Dyche and the team need us united now more than I can ever remember.