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  Despite the relationship between Richard Scudamore, the Premier League’s chief executive, and Dan Ashworth, the Football Association’s technical director, being cordial and founded on mutual respect, football’s version of the San Andreas Fault still runs from the league’s powerbase in Gloucester Place, central London, to St George’s Park, hub of a newly focused FA performance team.

  There are positive, forward-thinking people within each organisation, but English football is defined by its predilection for trench warfare. It lacks a single, dominant body motivated solely by the good of the game. Each faction has a separate agenda, and the concentration on making money carries the danger of deflection from fundamental issues, such as a salary cap for young players and the overstocking of the system.

  The next power shift is likely to involve coach education. Influential clubs are unhappy about the quality of the FA’s work in this area, and there are wider concerns about the cost and availability of coaching courses. Under Roddy, the Premier League are close to setting up a mirror-image operation by offering ‘Leadership Journey’ coaching workshops and setting a so-called Coach Competency Framework.

  Though his insistence that graduates ‘will take the game to a whole new level’ is hyperbolic, Roddy’s pet project, the Elite Coach Apprenticeship Scheme, has much to commend it. An intensive two-year programme, broadened in 2015 to include six female and black, Asian and minority ethnic (BAME) coaches in each intake, it is similar to other schemes operated by UK Sport. Mentors are provided from business and other sports.

  The initiative seeks to impart ‘experiential learning’ from such activities as cycling, dance and swimming. The performance principles of the Royal Shakespeare Company, which include advice on how to command an audience, are complemented by that traditional corporate gesture, an outward-bound course in the Brecon Beacons overseen by former members of the special forces.

  Roddy retains Scudamore’s support and, speaking in the more sanitised setting of the league’s website, he felt confident enough to pronounce on the system’s robustness: ‘Do I think players are soft in this system? No way. These players are trying to create a career for themselves in the hardest league in the world. It’s self-evident that our players have got to be among the best players in the world if they’re going to play in it.

  ‘We have got more talent pouring into the league than anywhere else on the planet. We had 67 debuts last year. The pipeline is still there. When we started out people would say there was no English talent, but now people say there is English talent but it needs an opportunity. That is a seismic shift from where we were only four seasons ago.’

  For all its froth, the youth system magnifies the faults of the senior game, since the biggest clubs are using their economic and political power to amass huge stocks of promising players from the UK and further afield. The resentment generated by such acquisitiveness was summarised by the tart observation of Karl-Heinz Rummenigge, chairman of Bayern Munich’s executive board: ‘We don’t want to bring some ten- or eleven-year-old to Munich like the English do. You can almost speak of kidnapping with them and I would have moral reservations about that.’

  Clubs like Chelsea and Manchester City produce outstanding under-18 teams, but there is no correlation between their potency and the pathway to the first team. Neil Bath, Chelsea’s widely respected academy director, speaks of players ‘crossing the road’ into senior football when a more accurate analogy would involve crawling across an ice ladder, strung across a deadly deep crevasse in a Himalayan glacier field.

  Some aspects of development, such as the seasonal disparity that leads to 73 per cent of academy players being born in the first half of the school year, are more easily addressed by bio-banding initiatives of the type led by Southampton. Minds have been concentrated by a study of 293 academy players at Manchester United, using skeletal development as a key criterion; late physical developers were twenty times less likely to be given a scholarship at 16. The bigger dilemma, captured by the presence of only one English player, Marcus Rashford, among the 100 most-used under twenties in Europe’s leading leagues, can only be solved by a fundamental change in thinking.

  Stockpiling forty or fifty players in an age group is insidious, since it inspires other clubs, like Manchester United, to embark on a frantic recruitment drive to equalise a competitive imbalance. Not for the first time, I find myself agreeing with Arsène Wenger: ‘The whole system has to be questioned,’ he told the Guardian’s Amy Lawrence. ‘They organised a system where the best players finish at the biggest clubs. But they do not always have the best chance to play at the biggest clubs.’

  Far-reaching debate is overdue because, as the powerful prevaricate, children are being compressed by parental pressure and coaches who mistrust freedom of expression. Wenger is concerned by the prevailing academy culture of isolation and intensity, and believes ‘the longer you live a normal life the better’. Like the FA’s Nick Levett, he worries about the wilful marginalisation of paediatricians who insist children should not specialise in a single sport until they are at least 15.

  The mood of sober reflection generated by the sexual abuse scandal invites a reappraisal. In my view, no boy or girl should have a competitive affiliation with an academy until they are 14; a variation of Dave Parnaby’s pioneering idea of a coaching registration, linking a young player to a particular club, could be introduced at the age of 11. The race to the bottom, in which 4-year-olds are being assessed, must cease.

  Youth football is a parallel universe, and I often find myself recalling a meditative comment by Manchester City’s Grant Downie: ‘I wish someone could invent a pair of glasses so that I could look through the eyes of a ten- or eleven-year-old, and the world changes.’ Remove the contact lenses of adulthood, and it becomes clear children need room to breathe, to laugh, to love, to play on their own terms.

  For all the talk about elitist exclusivity, the youth system is bloated, intoxicated by its wealth, and haphazard. Quotas are extremely difficult to enforce, but no club should be allowed to register more than twelve players in a year group; the obvious competitive issue, of fielding a team with sufficient numbers and diversity, could be tackled by merging age groups.

  It is hard to envisage a weakening in resistance to the idea of lower-league feeder clubs, though my suspicion is that this will happen subtly, through the evolution and manipulation of the loan system. Manchester City’s strategic link with NAC Breda, informed by Chelsea’s pioneering partnership with Vitesse Arnhem, is a glimpse into a future shaped by Premier League paternalism and opportunism. Manchester United, monitoring potential feeder clubs in Belgium, the Netherlands and Portugal, are following their example.

  It is too easy, amidst the fence-sitting and agenda-setting, to miss the point that football undervalues its basic ingredient. Although the phrase smacks of complacency and superficiality, it is a people business. Clubs and organisations are dependent on individuals, who form their molecular structure. I found good and bad working alongside each other; some clubs are casually demonised, because of jealousy generated by lavishly financed success, but others with considerably fewer scruples and infinitely less professionalism avoid censure.

  Gareth Southgate understands that premature wealth complicates his search for humility in the young players he hopes to fashion as full internationals. That has a more serious connotation than throwaway lines about football’s washbag culture, which surely reached its zenith when an alert cameraman spotted that the washbag of Georges-Kevin Nkoudou, Tottenham’s £11 million summer signing from Marseille, was emblazoned with an image of his smiling face.

  Despite the prudence of such clubs as Tottenham, Southampton and Liverpool, reward is too instant, too simple. Reputations are made and inflated even as hormones kick in and sycophants attach their suckers. It leads inevitably to tales that seep out from Mayfair nightclubs, in which players are buying £3,000 bottles of vodka, or standing £5,000 rounds, before their twenty-first birthday.
r />   In such circumstances, the sport needs leaders of greater distinction than Gordon Taylor, the PFA chairman, who has given little external indication of justifying his 2015 pay increase, from £1.13 million a year to £3.37 million. He may promote worthwhile causes, and generate favourable headlines in a concussion-conscious age by suggesting the FA should consider banning players under 10 from heading the ball, but his organisation gives the impression of being loosely focused.

  Although the principle of a salary cap is anathema to a trade union, the PFA’s proactive support of reasonable limitation of a young player’s initial earnings, linked to a structured trust fund, would signal overdue recognition of the greater good. The identity of prospective allies might surprise them, because Mark Allen, Manchester City’s academy director, would welcome such a lead:

  ‘We should be going down that road, without a shadow of a doubt. We’ve always said we’d love to be able to put in a player’s contract, something like, “Your car limit is X.” But we can’t, by law. There is an exceptional circumstance around this industry, because at the moment, thankfully, the Premier League is the most global league in the world. The revenue it brings into not just Manchester City, but all the clubs, has a great effect on the economy. We do have a responsibility, but we need some legislative power to help fulfil that.’

  Expecting the Premier League to stop flexing its financial muscle is as unrealistic as expecting a heavyweight champion boxer to pull a punch. The decision to ring-fence their funding of a head of coaching in all ninety-two clubs is, however, a portent of further opportunity. Instead of concentrating on academic minutiae, EPPP should service a centrally funded minimum wage for every full-time academy coach; an annual salary of £35,000 would incentivise those on half that who currently struggle to see a viable career pathway.

  Think the unthinkable. Colchester United owner Robbie Cowling, a noted advocate of sensibly budgeted youth schemes who annually puts £3.5 million of his money where his mouth is, believes that the EPPP compensation system should be enhanced by a 5 per cent salary levy, imposed on Premier League clubs and recycled to those that originally developed their players.

  Equally, there is nothing to stop the Premier League underpinning pastoral progress, beyond traditional community schemes; it might even reinforce a brand that already has access to 900 million homes in 229 ‘territories’ around the world. Opportunity is hiding in plain sight; officials should revisit their reluctance to fund the Players’ Trust, an independent organisation which judges its impact not on florid PR campaigns but on sound advice to confused parents and their vulnerable children. The Trust is gathering significant political support and is meeting a clearly defined need. An allocation, drawn from the £19 million the Premier League gives the PFA to find and facilitate benevolent support, would allow the new organisation to flourish.

  Scudamore refers to virtual reality technology ‘playing a huge part in the future exploitation of the Premier League’, and yet the real thing is no less alluring. A price cannot be placed on the joyful discovery of a grassroots coach like Tony McCool, who, on a cold winter’s night, recognised ‘incredible’ potential in a 13-year-old orphan refugee who had not played football three months previously.

  In that sense, it was fitting my journey should end where it began, at the Brixton Recreation Centre. This is the place where magic can still happen. Zion Dixon, aged 12, was saying his farewells. He had signed for Derby County and his mother had resolved to build a better life, in a village setting far removed from the urban tension of south London. Ezra Tika-Lemba had grown three inches in a year and was excelling at Chelsea. Rinsola Babajide had joined Watford, and was preparing to represent England in the annual La Manga tournament.

  Vontae Daley-Campbell was assuring his tearful mother, Anna Marie, that he would be able to cope when he moved away from home for the first time, to take up his scholarship at Arsenal, who had placed him in digs with two other top prospects. ‘Are you really ready for this?’ she asked. ‘Yes, Mum. I am, because I am going to change your life.’

  Nathan Mavila’s football career might have turned full circle when he re-signed for Wealdstone following a brief flirtation with Soham Town Rangers, but his life is only just taking shape. He won the sports category in the Young Black Achievement awards, set up to counter negative stereotypes, to endorse a misrepresented community, and to generate hope through the portrayal of inspirational individuals.

  His friend Leo Chambers could be found in the gym, pushing himself through three sessions a day with an easy disposition, to finally confirm his fitness. He had risen to the challenge of fatherhood; Millwall and Charlton Athletic were vying for his signature, but he was tempted by alternative offers to play in Europe.

  Younger boys were wide-eyed when Josh Bohui returned to coach them after scoring for Manchester United in the semi-final and final of the Sparkasse & VGH Cup, a four-day, five-a-side under-19 tournament in Germany. They had seen, on their social networks, a seductive photograph of him stooping slightly to pose beside a tall, slender silver trophy. It was posted by his former school, the Evelyn Grace Academy, where the outreach work of Jay Jay Lodge continued.

  Josh was a role model, a symbol of unfeasible possibility. To him, Steadman Scott was something more precious, a second father. A proud man, Scott had endured a difficult couple of months, during which his lack of mobility prevented his coaching. But the fire had been rekindled in those piercing eyes. Still the boys came in from the street. His ritual greeting, in that low lilt, was constant, as valuable now as it will ever be:

  ‘What’s your dream, son?’

  Index

  The page references in this index correspond to the printed edition from which this ebook was created. To find a specific word or phrase from the index, please use the search feature of your ebook reader.

  A Better Perspective 332–3

  A League 227

  A Levels 69–70, 163, 195, 207, 209, 273, 354

  Abraham, Tammy 291

  Abramovich, Roman 65

  AC Milan 39, 150, 366

  academic development see education

  academies, football:

  agents and see agents

  art of running a 374–95

  boot-box culture at 283–4

  budgets/investment in 50–1, 70–1, 73, 75, 78, 79, 80–1, 139, 224, 243, 246, 326, 357, 381, 391

  bullying and see bullying

  Category One 35, 48, 143, 224, 404, 405

  Category Three 76, 224

  Category Two 71, 76, 78

  Charter for Quality and creation of 235

  child-protection standards xvi, 399

  closure of 66–84

  creativity and 26–7, 31, 33–4, 35, 206–7, 285, 287, 292, 299–301

  data driven nature of 41–2, 286, 380–1, 386, 388, 389

  easily disposable nature of boys in 15 see also release of players

  education and see education

  England team and see England (national team)

  EPPP and see Elite Player Performance Plan (EPPP)

  FA and see Football Association

  fantasy world of 241

  Five Step Process and 48, 404–5

  French system 334–7, 340–1

  fun, negative view of within 26

  gambling and 332–3

  house parents 152, 305

  local areas and 46–7, 380, 381–2

  indulgent and extravagant nature of 37–8, 208, 331

  leadership qualities and 236

  life skills teaching 12, 52, 71, 185

  limits on ages of players at 293, 386, 414

  mandatory two-year foundation-degree course for managers of 392

  nutrition and 54, 165, 174, 262

  Performance Management Application (PMA) and 227–8, 285

  player numbers at 4, 361–2

  players as products 299

  poaching of talent from xx–xxi, 224–5, 294–5, 368–9, 382

  Premier League and se
e Premier League

  production of first-team players 6, 64–5, 156, 246, 248, 265–6, 275, 291, 316, 351, 353, 380

  purpose of 237

  recruitment xx, xxi, 25, 26–7, 48–50, 70, 75–6, 92, 107, 143, 144, 150, 161, 164, 216, 220, 242, 243, 266, 295, 303, 304, 325–6, 328, 335, 351, 360, 368, 379–80, 382, 383, 391, 404, 406, 414 see also under individual player name

  regime, daily 59–60, 335–6

  release of players xx, 18, 25–6, 31, 35, 39, 43, 60, 80, 92, 93, 106–8, 112, 114, 119, 123, 126, 135–6, 137, 142, 143, 145–6, 160, 161, 171, 172, 178, 179, 190, 191, 195, 197, 201–2, 219, 225–6, 247, 270–1, 274, 279, 289, 295, 296, 321, 322, 370, 383, 409 see also under individual player name

  relocation packages 48–9, 320

  safeguarding teams xvi, 56, 398, 399

  salary/wage structures 342, 385, 392–3

  scholarships 6, 17, 36, 48, 61, 70, 83–4, 107, 111, 114, 118–19, 120, 121, 129, 136, 141, 199, 259, 269, 273, 293, 384–5, 404, 419

  Spanish system 36–40, 95–9

  tours of 143

  travel rules/costs 31, 92, 128, 135, 213, 357

  violence and 214–16

  see also under individual academy and club name

  Adam, Lee 326

  Adarabioyo, Tosin 64

  Adidas 99, 141, 262, 310

  Adkins, Nigel 260

  Adu, Freddy 302–3

  Afewee Training Centre, Brixton xi, xxi, 1–23, 79, 165, 169–70, 179, 185–6, 340

  agents:

  academies and 58, 78, 79, 80, 130–1, 135, 136, 384

  appearance of 148–9

  boots used as inducements by 158–9

  development matches and 288, 289

  education of players and 163

  England team and 247

  FIFA and 97, 108, 153–5, 295–9

  growing influence of 139–40

  inflation of player costs and 371–2

  licensing of 153–5, 295–9

  motivation of players and 163–4

  Newbart project and 104–24

  parents and 23, 79, 129, 130, 139–40, 159, 160, 161–2, 164, 356, 369