Take a manager who has never played rugby before. Make him captain of England for his very first game. What would happen?
Martin Johnson was a fantastic player. Journalists struggled to put into words just how fearsome he was: “beetle-browed”, “lion-hearted”, “indomitable.” We are regularly reminded that he “achieved everything in the game.”
Johnson the manager is a different proposition, and the press are channelling their own fearsome aggression at him. His England are desperately lacking in creativity, it is said; in 18 months they have gone nowhere.
Sport’s contempt for management is so complete that “achieving everything in the game” is often enough to qualify a famous player to become manager of a top-flight team, when they have had little or no experience of management. Johnson had served no apprenticeship of any kind. He had not spent a single day managing a club side. As a player his qualifications were matchless. Under “Management”, his CV was blank. But, sport seems to be saying, what is management compared to playing? What is the ability to mould a team, to create long-term strategy, to forge agreement where there had been none before, to deal effectively with a host of interested parties, compared to the thrilling exploits of the people on the pitch? “Crash-bang” wins every time.
What is at the root of the attitude to management that is on display here? Simply, that it is not understood. No manager would be promoted to playing for the England rugby team on the basis that he had won everything in management. Why not? Because what it takes to play for England is clear for everyone to see. The physical attributes – strength, stamina, technique – are obvious, and playing just five minutes of international rugby without the wherewithal would have gruesome results. What seems to be less clear to those who make the appointments is what it takes to be a manager.
Consider the challenges which might face a manager. How to create an environment in which others can excel, how to unite disparate elements of a team, how to forge understanding between a range of stakeholders, how to mould a way of playing which utilises the strengths of the players available. There might be some overlap between the skillset of the indomitable player and some of these situations, but not much. What is available to the star ex-player once the chance to lead by example on the pitch has gone? Whatever managerial gifts he was born with, and no more.
Last week a function was held to celebrate those football managers who had presided over 1000 games or more. What was the characteristic they all had in common? “All the lads here who've done 1,000 games worked their way up the ladder,” said Harry Redknapp. “They've not gone in at the top and taken over a massive club. They had to learn their trade and that's why they survived so long." In other words, they treated management as a separate skill from playing, and learned it for itself. What is being asked of the admirable Martin Johnson now is that he learn to be a manager not while managing a low profile club side, but while managing England. Such is the contempt in which management is held that Johnson is being criticised for every mistake he makes as he learns his new job. The attitude seems to be, if he could achieve so much doing all that exciting stuff on the pitch, surely he can turn his hand to this boring behind-the-scenes chat.
Johnson’s erstwhile colleague Josh Lewsey recently criticised the coaches under the England manager, exasperatedly pointing out that one of them achieved nothing as a player. Clearly Johnson still commands great respect among players, as Lewsey confined his comments to those who report to his former captain. But who do the coaches work for? Who is responsible for moulding the talents and input of those beneath him into a coherent approach? That is management.
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