Disaster? United's shirt will still hit the fan
Martin Samuel The Times September 10, 2003

Manchester United supporters must have breathed a sigh of relief when they
read the story behind the headlines yesterday morning. At first sight, the
lurid predictions of doom and calamity at Old Trafford might have made them
fear that somebody of significance had walked out to join Chelsea.
How their lips must have trembled as they read on from banners announcing
�Chelsea lure United�s top man (Daily Telegraph) and �Man Utd rocked� (Daily
Mirror). Who could it be? Perhaps Roy Keane or, worse, Sir Alex Ferguson?
God forbid, not Ruud van Nistelrooy? What a communal exhalation there will
have been when the departing figure turned out to be none other than shirt
salesman extraordinaire, Peter Kenyon. Who can we get to manage our licence
to print money now, the fans must have asked. Who is there to run this
vastly profitable business that has had every rule rewritten to serve its
interests? What about that bloke over there? OK, fair enough.
So step forward David Gill. Before the ink had dried on the pronouncement
that Manchester United�s directors were in �shock� (Financial Times) or
�taken aback� (The Guardian), a replacement had been announced. When
Ferguson served his notice at the start of the 2001-02 season, no successor
had been found with the manager just three months from the door. If Van
Nistelrooy jacked it in tomorrow it would be January at the earliest before
United could bring in a new striker. Will there ever be another Keane?
But Kenyon? His job was filled in an afternoon. Modern directors like to
style themselves as the men who made football, but the bottom line is that
John O�Shea would be harder to replace than the chief executive. Businessmen
capable of running a club as established in the market as United are ten a
penny � but try to find a decent left back these days.
The idea that Kenyon made Manchester United is glib and lazy. Rather, he
developed the club in areas already mapped out by Roland Smith and Martin
Edwards, his predecessors. He had expertise in that field, brought from a
previous position with Umbro, and was good at it; but we�re not talking
rocket science. Get a big globe. Point to a country. Do we sell shirts here?
No? Well, let�s have a go. I don�t want to burst the marketing bubble, but
that�s pretty much all there is to it.
Don�t believe me? This is Gill outlining his strategy on MUTV, another
innovation credited to Kenyon but one that had been in the pipeline long
before his arrival. The interruptions are mine.
�It�s about maintaining the playing success (over which I have no control),
it�s about driving the media side of the business (which, like the rest of
it, relies on the success of the team), leveraging the brand (selling more
shirts around the world) and making sure we turn more fans into customers
(by selling shirts to them).� So, there you have it. Gill intends to
leverage the brand. Let�s hope he shuts the curtains first or the neighbours
might be offended.
In The Hudsucker Proxy, an unscrupulous board makes a lowly mailroom worker
called Norville Barnes president of the company in a bid to drive down the
price of stock and initiate a cheap buyout. The stooge is chosen for his
naivety, summed up by his habit of taking a crumpled piece of paper out of
his pocket on which he has drawn his great invention. It is a perfect
circle, nothing else. �You know,� he says, �for kids.�
The sting in the tail is that the circle turns out to be the hula hoop and
the company becomes more profitable than ever. But Gill hasn�t got a hula
hoop, nor does he even need one. Provided that nobody books a fortnight in
Torremolinos rather than a lucrative tour of the Far East, the United States
or Australia for the team next summer, United could tick along just fine
with the tea lady in charge.
Kenyon was brought in because United�s board knew exactly where it wanted to
go and he had travelled the path before. Gill, too, comes armed with charts
and maps. United have been heading in a certain direction for a decade now
and no chief executive of competence should have difficulty steering that
course.
The fact is, those who run United also run the game. In Europe, for
instance, the rich clubs that form the G14 group � whose chairman until this
week was Kenyon, but don�t rule out the possibility of him making a return
with Chelsea � have had football�s structure radically altered to maintain
their financial superiority. The Champions League format safeguards the
privileged few against failure � United might not win the title each year,
but with their resources they will be hard-pushed to finish outside the top
four and haven�t since 1991 � while the seedings further protect the big
clubs. The result? The same gigantic few reach the last eight, maintain
their seeded supremacy and grow richer.
So it is for the club at home. United are on television more often and have
greater clout at the FA than their rivals. Their influence can be seen in
the reduction of England friendly matches and the diminishing role of the
national team. Whenever Sven-G�ran Eriksson replaces 11 players at
half-time, thank United.
Without question, in the modern game, the rich and poor are increasingly
polarised and, as the daddy of them all, the job of United�s chief executive
grows easier. It would take an iceberg the size of Old Trafford to knock the
club off course and Kenyon�s departure is no more than a quick-thawing floe.
The team is still the thing and, to most United supporters, if Kenyon,
Ferguson and the players were in a hot-air balloon losing altitude, the
first bit of unnecessary baggage to be hurled overboard would be the chief
executive; next the sandbags. The City analysts did their best to make
Kenyon sound indispensable, but it was no use. His ability to market United
depended solely on Ferguson�s success on the field and, without that, he
might as well have tried selling pound coins for a fiver.
Many believe his true worth as a football executive will be discovered at
Chelsea, whose global branding does not compare to United�s. Yet again, the
bottom line will be whether Claudio Ranieri and the players give the new man
a platform on which to build. Inter Milan are also a famous club with
household-name players but without a title since 1989; the global market
doesn�t want to know.
Kenyon is not exactly starting from scratch. The brand title of his new club
has a cachet like no other (after all, the name of the former American
President�s daughter is Chelsea, not Salford), but whether this can be
translated into world domination and a superstore in every township is
another matter. United�s global profile has been building for years �
tragedy in Munich, George Best, Sir Bobby Charlton � making it ripe for
exploitation. The Chelsea that Bill and Hillary Clinton were thinking of
when they christened their baby may as well have come from a song by Nico or
an exclusive lump of real estate in New York. It is doubtful either was
inspired by fond memories of Charlie Cooke.
So, if the plan is for Kenyon quickly to replicate United�s conquest of
points south and east, it could prove a disappointing purchase for Roman
Abramovich. Until Chelsea boast David Beckham, Ronaldo or a trophy they will
remain in the slipstream of the most marketable clubs.
Just as if it was Kenyon�s acute football brain that was sought, his new
employer may wish to ask a few questions of his advisers. For while Kenyon�s
skill in negotiating a �303 million deal with Nike is undisputed, his
reputation as a judge at the sharp end of the business is debatable.
He leaves Old Trafford as the man who failed to spot that Leeds United were
in such desperate financial trouble 13 months ago that an offer of half the
�29 million United paid for Rio Ferdinand might have been accepted. Last
January, having sold players worth almost �50 million, Leeds were still
obliged to take less than �10 million for Jonathan Woodgate from Newcastle
United.
Which affords Kenyon � �the man who made Manchester United�, according to
one newspaper � a rather less flattering sobriquet. The man that Peter
Ridsdale outwitted. There�s one born every minute, you know.



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