As Liverpool football club come to the end of their search for a new owner to pay off their reported debts of about 237 million pounds, I sit and wonder what became of the amateur tradition. Liverpool, in truth, are less seeking a new owner than a benefactor. I deplore the way in which professional sport has descended into such an economic mess. If you went to a casino to play roulette, and the croupier offered you 2 to 1 against an individual number, you wouldn't even waste your money. But this is not far away from the absurd chances facing the vast majority of professional football clubs and particularly those in the premier league. Of course, it is not only football which has descended into this unsustainable financial format. Cricket is slowly dying and too few people can even see it. I read today that Lancashire have elected not to play Andrew Flintoff in a second eleven fixture against Yorkshire this week. Of all the non stories swimming around in this the proverbial "silly season", this one takes some beating. Andrew Flintoff was finished as a top player about three years ago. The only reason he is retained as a county player is for the potential to cash in on him as a marketable commodity. However, while he lies by the side of his swimming pool in Dubai drawing his hefty salary for doing nothing, I can only hope that a young talent who will appreciate the opportunity will make a name for himself in this Roses match.
It is remarkably only 57 years since England appointed their first professional captain in the shape of the late, great Len Hutton. Can any of us now imagine an amateur being appointed again? Can we even envisage an England cricket captain actually being at least born in England?
Last week, I went to watch a local football match. In the Vale of Clwyd where I live, there is an annual inter village football competition involving about a dozen villages. There is a season long league followed by a knockout cup competition. It is about as amateur as you can get. Any rolling around on the floor to try and attract the attention of the referee will go unnoticed and if you persist, a chap will run run on to the pitch with a sponge and a bucket of water and just throw the water over you. No prima donnas here! No half hearted tackles either. Tackles are enough to make a surgeon purr with anticipation and those with a delicate constitution are best advised to look the other way. Afterwards, all and sundry retire to the pub and all animosities on the pitch are forgotten about. With the sole exception of a local business sponsoring the shirts on their backs, this has nothing to do with money and is so much more real and enjoyable as a result. The passion in the players is palpable and the only prize at stake is to be able to say that your side won. This is sport at its best and I feel that too many people have lost sight of this. If Liverpool owe 1 million or 200 million pounds, it means nothing to me as I am not in the least bit interested. As far as I'm concerned, the best result would be for one of these so called "big" clubs to go under and cease to exist thus creating a knock effect to the rest. The whole model of the modern professional game is unsustainable, boring and frankly, vulgar.
I can only hope that the pendulum begins to swing back in the amateur direction again for the good of sport everywhere. That way both the participants and the spectators will be all the richer for it.
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