OUT OF OFFICE
A TV cutaway shot as old as televised football itself. A top-division game, a lingering shot of the stands and the posh seats and there in overcoat, aside some simpering dignitary or other, is sat the England manager. Cue Kenneth Wolstenholme: “There’s Alf Ramsey, perhaps wondering if Sheffield Wednesday’s Johnny Fantham should be recalled to repeat his Owls goalscoring feats for England. Though perhaps West Ham’s Geoff Hurst might get the call.” From Brian Moore to Martin Tyler, “Motty” to “Clive” to Peter Drury’s Super Sunday’s poetry recitals, it’s all part of the routine. An England manager should be seen and not heard and sometimes spotted leaving early to beat the traffic on the M6. An England manager should know their Toddington from their Watford Gap, their Pease Pottage from their Knutsford, and be able to quote the price of a Wildbean Cafe meal deal without looking it up for their expense claims. An England manager is a knight of the road, forever clocking up the mileage in their speedy saloon, unstinting in their efforts to find the next Kalvin Phillips, the one player who can unlock a team’s potential.
