I have been following English football for nearly 70 years.
That means I can remember when grounds had terraces, programmes cost pennies and managers seemed to possess a wisdom that extended far beyond football. They wore raincoats instead of designer labels and spoke with the sort of authority that today would probably require a communications consultant and three lawyers.
As I read the latest developments surrounding Manchester City and the Premier League charges, I found myself imagining a gathering of some of the game’s old giants.
Bill Shankly arrives first, naturally. Matt Busby follows, dignified as ever. Bob Paisley slips quietly into a corner, uncomfortable with attention. Brian Clough enters last and immediately takes control of the room.
A modern lawyer stands up and begins his presentation.
“There are more than a hundred charges involving financial reporting, sponsorship arrangements, regulatory compliance and related-party transactions.”
Shankly listens patiently.
“A hundred and fifteen charges?” he eventually asks.
The lawyer nods.
“I see,” says Shankly. “And how many goals were these accountants scoring while all this was going on?”
The presentation continues.
There are charts, spreadsheets and legal definitions. There are references to structures, processes and compliance frameworks. There are enough acronyms to fill a fixture list.
After half an hour, Clough interrupts.
“Very interesting,” he says. “Now when do we get to the football?”
The room falls silent.
Because that, surely, is the heart of the matter.
Whatever punishment eventually emerges, whether severe or modest, football has already lost something. The discussion long ago stopped being about goals, tactics and title races. It became a debate about legal arguments, financial reporting and regulatory procedures.
Nobody falls in love with football because of regulatory procedures.
Busby rebuilt Manchester United after Munich through courage, vision and integrity. One suspects he would struggle to understand how football arrived at a place where forensic accountants have become almost as important as scouts.
Accountants 1, Supporters 0
Busby, I suspect, would ask only one question.
“Is the competition fair?”
That is the question hanging over English football today.
Supporters can live with defeat. They always have. Generations of supporters have accepted disappointment because they believed the contest itself was honest. The league’s great strength has never been money, glamour or television contracts.
It has been trust.
The belief that the same rulebook applies to everybody.
If supporters lose faith in that, the consequences extend far beyond one club. The danger is not merely that rules are broken. The danger is that breaking them comes to be seen as a sensible commercial strategy.
A fine becomes a business expense.
A points deduction becomes a risk worth taking.
An asterisk becomes part of the cost of success.
That is not a road football should travel.
The real sadness, however, is that all this risks overshadowing the game itself. Manchester City have produced teams of extraordinary quality. Yet whenever those achievements are discussed in years to come, there will always be a pause.
A small hesitation.
A “yes, but … ”.
Football should never be about “yes, but … ”.
When I think back over 70 years, I do not remember balance sheets. I remember moments. I remember great players, impossible goals, seeing packed grounds and Saturday afternoons that seemed to matter more than anything else in the world.
And as I imagine Shankly, Busby, Paisley and Clough departing that meeting, I suspect they would leave discussing none of the evidence that had just been presented.
Not the charges.
Not the lawyers.
Not the accountants.
They would be talking about football.
The worrying thing is that, for the first time in a very long time, football itself appears to be the least important man in the room.
