How To Finish Sixth And Make Millions
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“You get nothing for coming second”, Bill Shankly said. But you can for finishing sixth. BRIAN de SALVO questions the integrity of our League system.
When the final whistle sounded and the crowd began to leave, my young American friend turned to me in confusion.
“What happens now?” he asked. “Nothing,“ I replied, “It’s a draw. Nil-nil. One point each. Finito.”
“No goals?” he complained, “What about the shoot out? There has to be a winner.”
I explained that it was a league match. That league titles were won by accumulating the most points over a season.
“I know about soccer leagues,“ said my friend. “We have them at college. At the end of the season the top team plays the second team to decide which are the champs. It’s a big deal.”
I think my age is showing. By now you must have realised that my post match conversation was over thirty years ago. We have yet to see the winners play the runners up to discover whether they really are the champions but the play offs, the cup competition that ultimately decides which of the fringe teams will enjoy promotion or suffer relegation, is established practice in the Airtricity League now. It provides a dramatic finale to the season’s business. Now that even coaches pay lip service to the excitement generated it’s useless to point out that playoffs are an aberration on what is supposed to be the reward for a season’s endeavour. The time for protest has long since past.
A conversation with Billy Davis might prove thought provoking, mind you. He was manager of the Nottingham Forest squad that finished third in the English championship at the end of the 2009-10 season but sixth placed Blackpool were promoted, despite amassing nine points less. Davis took Forest to the playoffs the previous season too. He is no longer manager of Nottingham Forest. Ian Holloway, however, after a spectacular but ultimately unsuccessful season at the top level, is still in charge at Blackpool. Premiership status is worth millions of pounds so we’re talking jobs here, not just the managers and the players’ contracts but everyone’s - down to the tea lady.
In the UK they no longer submit teams to the harrowing experience of trying to preserve status by striking lucky in a sudden death scramble with equally desperate opponents. Three Premiership clubs are relegated, to be replaced by the top two teams in the Nationwide First Division plus the winner of the playoffs between the clubs that finish 3rd, 4th, 5th and 6th. In the last decade three winners of this lottery leap-frogged into the top flight from sixth place, three from fifth. In all, these promoted clubs totalled forty five points less than those that finished third.
Actually, there’s no point in finishing third. The team that does is likely to be exhausted, mentally and physically, from the effort of trying to win automatic promotion. Not a good mindset for bouncing straight into a multi million pound knockout competition. A manager might be better off assessing the talent at his disposal and seeing whether coming with a late run, aiming for fifth position and accepting sixth might not be a better option.
Soccer is a game of chance and nowhere is that better demonstrated than in a cup where success over a few games can win you a trophy. But a league is about consistency, the champions emerging after being tested by all the other competitors. One is a sprint, the other a marathon. They are not compatible.
But the beautiful game itself, it seems, is no longer enough. It’s too dull. We have to have a winner. Where there is none we have to create one by perverting the competition. It’s the American dream.
In Dallas, Texas I watched a game where the electronic scoreboard registered, under BP for box penetration, every occasion when the ball entered the penalty areas, a meaningless statistic. During a protracted half time interval the police patrolled the perimeter as competitors engaged in an undignified scramble to pick up as many scattered dollar bills as they could. As they did so the PA announcer warned that any spectator entering the playing field would be shot. By the time the match restarted I’d forgotten the score. But one thing I can promise my, by now, middle-aged American companion. Ultimately, one way or another, there was certain to be a winner.
When the final whistle sounded and the crowd began to leave, my young American friend turned to me in confusion.
“What happens now?” he asked. “Nothing,“ I replied, “It’s a draw. Nil-nil. One point each. Finito.”
“No goals?” he complained, “What about the shoot out? There has to be a winner.”
I explained that it was a league match. That league titles were won by accumulating the most points over a season.
“I know about soccer leagues,“ said my friend. “We have them at college. At the end of the season the top team plays the second team to decide which are the champs. It’s a big deal.”
I think my age is showing. By now you must have realised that my post match conversation was over thirty years ago. We have yet to see the winners play the runners up to discover whether they really are the champions but the play offs, the cup competition that ultimately decides which of the fringe teams will enjoy promotion or suffer relegation, is established practice in the Airtricity League now. It provides a dramatic finale to the season’s business. Now that even coaches pay lip service to the excitement generated it’s useless to point out that playoffs are an aberration on what is supposed to be the reward for a season’s endeavour. The time for protest has long since past.
A conversation with Billy Davis might prove thought provoking, mind you. He was manager of the Nottingham Forest squad that finished third in the English championship at the end of the 2009-10 season but sixth placed Blackpool were promoted, despite amassing nine points less. Davis took Forest to the playoffs the previous season too. He is no longer manager of Nottingham Forest. Ian Holloway, however, after a spectacular but ultimately unsuccessful season at the top level, is still in charge at Blackpool. Premiership status is worth millions of pounds so we’re talking jobs here, not just the managers and the players’ contracts but everyone’s - down to the tea lady.
In the UK they no longer submit teams to the harrowing experience of trying to preserve status by striking lucky in a sudden death scramble with equally desperate opponents. Three Premiership clubs are relegated, to be replaced by the top two teams in the Nationwide First Division plus the winner of the playoffs between the clubs that finish 3rd, 4th, 5th and 6th. In the last decade three winners of this lottery leap-frogged into the top flight from sixth place, three from fifth. In all, these promoted clubs totalled forty five points less than those that finished third.
Actually, there’s no point in finishing third. The team that does is likely to be exhausted, mentally and physically, from the effort of trying to win automatic promotion. Not a good mindset for bouncing straight into a multi million pound knockout competition. A manager might be better off assessing the talent at his disposal and seeing whether coming with a late run, aiming for fifth position and accepting sixth might not be a better option.
Soccer is a game of chance and nowhere is that better demonstrated than in a cup where success over a few games can win you a trophy. But a league is about consistency, the champions emerging after being tested by all the other competitors. One is a sprint, the other a marathon. They are not compatible.
But the beautiful game itself, it seems, is no longer enough. It’s too dull. We have to have a winner. Where there is none we have to create one by perverting the competition. It’s the American dream.
In Dallas, Texas I watched a game where the electronic scoreboard registered, under BP for box penetration, every occasion when the ball entered the penalty areas, a meaningless statistic. During a protracted half time interval the police patrolled the perimeter as competitors engaged in an undignified scramble to pick up as many scattered dollar bills as they could. As they did so the PA announcer warned that any spectator entering the playing field would be shot. By the time the match restarted I’d forgotten the score. But one thing I can promise my, by now, middle-aged American companion. Ultimately, one way or another, there was certain to be a winner.
