Does the Premier League justify the hype?
THERE, neatly packaged in unhealthily tight trousers, was exactly the problem with the Premier League. After news had come through on the final day of the Spanish season that Real Madrid had beaten Almeria 8-1, Jamie Redknapp scoffed that that just wouldn’t happen in “our league”.
But Redknapp, of course, only had to flick back through three years of the record books to see that’s exactly what happened when Man City visited Middlesbrough on the final day of the 2007-2008 season.
Even before then, though, a nadir had been reached. As Barcelona looked like beating all before them around last Christmas, Andy Gray doubted whether they’d be so dynamic in certain provincial conditions in the Premier League.
The Catalans, of course, dismantled its champions in the European Cup final.
These are the kind of incidents that dismay some at the start of the new Premier League season. The coverage isn’t just over the top. It’s positively ostentatious.
And, hardly surprisingly, that hype is similar to the propaganda machine that accompanies the English squad. But there are two key differences here.
For a start, the English media’s support of their national team is comprehensible (if ethically dubious when it comes to objectivity). Aside from “getting behind the boys”, it helps them shift newspapers.
Many of those newspapers, however, are much less dogmatic when it comes to the domestic league. Because, as will barely have escaped your attention, the two above examples come exclusively from Sky.
Given that they broadcast almost 80% of the competition’s live matches in Ireland and Britain, that is where most of the hype comes from. But, as with the papers, it’s exaggerated by Sky’s own vested interest. The corporation was effectively built on the back of the Premier League and it remains a cornerstone of their business. They exaggerate every possible positive.
But here’s the second key difference: unlike the English national team, the Premier League generally lives up to its end of the bargain. When you strip away Sky’s propaganda, the on-pitch quality is undeniable. Whatever of the money and the myopia, a sports fan surely can’t but appreciate a code played at its most elevated level? Fair enough, Barcelona may ensure the English league is not the very best in the world. But that in itself is an argument that’s elusive, ever-changing and hard to define. What is inarguable is it remains one of the globe’s elite competitions.
The Premier League has gone beyond England. As reflected in its fan base, it is the first truly globalised football league. It has more foreign players than any European domestic competition, more foreign owners and more foreign personalities. Just as the money followed Sky, many of the world’s most talented footballers have followed the money.
And the net effect is, stylistically, one of the most varied domestic competitions. Unlike in Spain where a particular passing game dominates, the Premier League does have a huge mix. There’s the finesse of Arsenal, the physicality of Stoke, the pragmatic passing game of Kenny Dalglish and a new pressing style of André Villas-Boas. League patriarch, Alex Ferguson combined them all. The styles have created an exciting brand of football which has helped English clubs adapt to the vagaries of the Champions League. They may not dominate the roll of honour. And that may not fit Sky’s narrative. But, when you look beyond their marketing, there’s no denying the broader truth the Premier League produces high-quality football.
ONCE upon a time, long, long ago, there was a group of musicians who were routinely introduced on stage as follows: “Ladies and gentlemen, the greatest rock n’ roll band in the world — the Rolling Stones”.
And, believe it or not, chillun, they were too. Of course, that spoken 60s fanfare was pure marketing spin but it also happened to have a solid basis in truth, one of those rare instances when hype and reality rhymed.
If anyone were to introduce the Strolling Bones in like-manner in 2011, people would either laugh or sigh for their long-lost youth. Of course, old Keef is great, and always will be, and I’m sure on the odd blue moon night when they somehow relocate their original mojo, what’s left of the Stones can still create moments of magic. But, “the greatest rock n’ roll band in the world”? I don’t think so.
If the Premier League were a rock band it would be the Rolling Stones, albeit these days with much more scandal attached but even less grounds to lay claim to the ultimate superlative.
Not that the game’s abundance of spin merchants will let that cramp their style. It won’t be long now before there’s a high-scoring Premier League game, almost certainly featuring Spurs, which will be heralded as a prime example of “why this is the greatest football league in the world”.
In fact, they were getting the hysteria in early this season, with everyone falling over themselves to hail the Community Shield as a harbinger of even greater wonders to come.
Well, yes, it was hugely entertaining stuff right enough but, hey people, it wasn’t a real cup final or a league decider, it was still just a pre-season friendly, albeit one with — altogether now — “huge bragging rights” at stake.
No less than the next football lover, I’d be delighted if the usual cheerleaders were proved right for once, and the coming season did indeed illuminate our lives with football of quality and distinction from beginning to end.
More likely is that the usual suspects will dominate at the top, a whole clutch of clubs will contest relatively meaningless positions around the middle and, at season’s end, the real edge of the seat stuff will centre on the battle to avoid the drop.
We live in hope, of course, but for those who live in hype — bombarded 24/7 by apps, tweets, tabloids and telly — the greatness of the Premier League must seem self-evident, like an act of religious faith.
But, when you step back out of the multi-media storm, the picture is rather more sobering. Barring Blackburn’s lone season in the sun, the Premier League title has been the exclusive plaything of just three clubs since its inception, a stat which ought to chill the bones rather more than it does.
Back when Newcastle were vainly attempting to crash the party, Kevin Keegan came close to sacrilege when he declared: “This league is in danger of becoming the most boring in the world.”
Expect he didn’t.
Probably conscious of the ubiquitous Sky camera in the corner, what he actually said was: “This league is in danger of becoming one of the most boring but great leagues in the world.”
Boring but great, eh? They really don’t like to let go of their favourite superlative, do they?
Not even when the greatest of the great advance into Europe and promptly get their behinds spanked. Or when the latest golden generation of English players inevitably combust on the international stage.
Indeed. Why worry about all that when there’s yet another massive, massive Super Sunday game just around the corner?
Wigan versus Stoke, ahoy! Oh, be still my beating heart.
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