Sven-Goran Eriksson

CONTENTS

Cover

Title Page

Prologue

1 ‘Perdente di Successo’

2 Sven’s Verdict

3 The Vacancy

4 The Move

5 The Man and his Methods

6 An Enfield Town Full-Back

7 On Board with Tord

8 Into the Big Time

9 Lisbon Calling

10 All Roads Lead to Rome

11 Back to Benfica

12 Dancing to Mantovani’s Tune

13 Scudetto Lost

14 Emperor of Rome

15 Paradise Lost

16 England’s Boss

17 Munich Magic

18 Beckham’s Match

19 The Luck of the Draw

20 The Halo Slips

21 The Squad

22 Here We Go …

23 ‘Cheer Up, It’s not a Funeral’

24 Revenge

25 Brazil

26 Let’s Go Home

27 The Final Reckoning

28 The FA Verdict

29 Sub Standard

30 Humiliation

31 Turkey and the Last Chance

32 ‘Svenski’

33 ‘One Out, All Out’

34 Heroes and Villains

35 Here We Go Again

36 A Crazy Start

37 Deja Vu

Index

About the Author

Praise

Copyright

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE WHAT’S LOVE GOT TO DO WITH IT?

‘My advice to Sven is to quit his job, too. Those bastards at the FA want to destroy him. The knives are out.’

FARIA ALAM, after resigning as personal assistant

to the Football Association’s executive

director, David Davies, August 2004

It was all a far cry from the heady days of November 2000, when Sven-Goran Eriksson was warmly greeted as England’s saviour on taking up the management at a time when Kevin Keegan’s abrupt departure had left the national team rock bottom, not just in their World Cup qualifying group, but mentally as well. Now, nearly four years on, the FA wanted him out, and were happy for it to be known that the best paid coach in the world was on borrowed time. If his employers were dissatisfied with Eriksson, the feeling was certainly mutual. He had been ‘hung out to dry’, as he put it, over the ‘Fariagate’ sex scandal that had threatened to bring down the hierarchy of English football’s governing body, and briefly considered sueing for constructive dismissal before opting to soldier on until the next attractive job offer came along.

How had it come to this? It is a story that makes ‘Footballers’ Wives’ look tame, a tale of unbridled lust, greed, intrigue and xenophobia, laced with a lot of football – some good, some bad. When all is said and done, the final verdict has to be that England’s first foreign coach proved to be an expensive disappointment. He deserves credit for reviving the dispirited and disorganized team he inherited from Keegan, but having raised morale, performance and public expectation, he achieved no more than quarter-final places at the 2002 World Cup and 2004 European Championship when, with a more adventurous approach, England might have done much better.

In football terms, history will judge Eriksson to have been too defensively orientated, too inflexible in his team selection and tactics, and too indulgent of his players. In the big matches, England paid the ultimate price for timidly circling the wagons and defending slender leads instead of trying to improve them; they had no Plan B when bog standard 4–4–2 went awry; and, even for those patently out of form, it seemed harder to get out of the team than it was to get in it in the first place. This was most glaringly apparent in the case of David Beckham who, on his own admission, was not as fit as he should have been at Euro 2004, yet was invariably allowed to play the full 90 minutes, or even extra-time, when he should have been substituted.

One of England’s most experienced defenders propounds an interesting theory here. Remarking on a quote from Nancy Dell’Olio, Eriksson’s former partner, who told a TV chat show that he disliked one-on-one conflict, the player suggested this was evident both in the coach’s personal and professional lives. The coach had remained with Ms Dell’Olio for at least a year after the relationship had run its course because breaking up would have been too confrontational, and he was reluctant to substitute senior players for the same reason.

Be that as it may, Eriksson often seemed to be in his captain’s thrall – so much so that when the squad went to Sardinia in May 2004, for pre-tournament preparations, the coach and Nancy moved out of the best suite at the Forte Village, which they had been routinely allocated by the hotel management, to allow Beckham and his wife, Victoria, to move in. This sent out all the wrong signals, fuelling resentment within the squad of the special treatment, and unprecedented influence Beckham enjoyed.

Eriksson has always asked to be judged on results alone, in which case he was clearly overpaid on £4 million a year compared to the £1.1 million earned by Luis Felipe Scolari, who won the 2002 World Cup with Brazil and took Portugal to the final of Euro 2004. Given that disparity, it is unrealistic for the England coach to expect the media to focus entirely on football matters and ignore his private life. The intrusion Eriksson often complains about comes with the pay packet. As the Sunday Times put it, if he wants to be free to romance whoever and behave however he chooses, without it getting into the papers, let him go and manage Austria or Switzerland for £250,000 a year.

Initially, there was no shortage of sympathy when the stormy nature of Eriksson’s relationship with Ms Dell’Olio was made public, but gradually it dawned on people that for a man who craved anonymity he chose some strange partners, and strange venues at which to parade them. Not many women seek publicity as avidly as Ulrika Jonsson, and it surprised nobody but poor old Sven when she made a small fortune out of her kiss-and-tell tittle-tattle about their affair. Similarly, if you want to stay out of the newspapers, the celebrity haunt that is London’s San Lorenzo restaurant is hardly the best place to do your courting.

It was a close run thing at the time, but Eriksson got away with the Ulrika business. It was when others followed that public sympathy swung away from him, towards the much-put-upon Nancy, his live-in partner, who continually declared her love for him, and behaved accordingly, only to be repeatedly reduced to tears and tantrums by his serial unfaithfulness before they finally broke up, towards the end of July 2004.

Eriksson seems to enjoy risky, and risque, behaviour, and thought nothing of entering into a liaison dangereux with Faria Alam, a 38-year-old ex-model of Bangladeshi extraction who was employed on secretarial duties by his friend and most supportive ally at the FA, David Davies. Ms Alam had already had an affair with the FA’s chief executive, Mark Palios, and when the newspapers got wind of what was going on, the inevitable furore became known as ‘Fariagate’.

Eriksson’s stock was already at an all-time low after England’s disappointing performance at Euro 2004, and at first it seemed he was behaving wisely straight after their elimination, when he retreated to his native Sweden and kept his head down. In fact he was seeking solace in the ample charms of his latest conquest, who had joined him at his palatial villa in Sunne, not far from his parent’s home. He had been seeing Ms Alam since January, and telephoned her every day during the championship in Portugal. Now they had another of their clandestine trysts, but this time the secret was out. The News of the World were on to them, and what followed was, according to one senior FA source, ‘… a glaring, startling nightmare that caused everybody to lose faith in the whole organization.’

The crisis was provoked not so much by the affair as by Eriksson’s ambivalent reply when questioned about it by Davies – that and the fact that Palios had also been involved with Ms Alam. Eriksson told Davies in a telephone conversation deemed by the coach to be personal and private that it was all ‘nonsense’. He was therefore both surprised and incensed when this brief chat with a friend led to a formal, public denial by the FA, which subsequently had to be retracted, causing great embarrassment to all concerned. The key word ‘nonsense’ had referred to the fact that Eriksson’s love life was under scrutiny again; it was not a ‘categorical denial’ that the relationship had taken place.

It was when Palios was implicated as another of Ms Alam’s lovers that an awkward situation became a full-blown scandal. The FA’s chief executive had been a man on a mission, the mission being ‘to clean up the game’, and News of the World exposés of his own behaviour would not do at all. Through his head of communications, Colin Gibson, he offered the paper a deal. They would be given full details of Eriksson’s affair, the quid pro quo being that they left Palios’ name out of the story. For a few days Palios and Gibson thought they had pulled it off, but then the News of the World decided that the attempted cover-up was the best story of all, and printed a transcript of their taped telephone conversations with Gibson, during which he said: ‘What I’m proposing is that I give you chapter and verse on her and Sven. And that the pay-off, obviously, is that we leave MP [Palios] out of it. I’ve got the details, I’ve got the places, I’ve got the phone calls. I’ve got everything.’

When news of their machinations came out, Palios and Gibson were both forced to resign, and for a time it seemed that Eriksson would have to follow suit. The chairman of the FA, Geoff Thompson, instigated an investigation into the ‘coach’s conduct, hiring an independent lawyer to interview all those involved and prepare a report to be considered by an emergency meeting of the FA’s twelve-man board. The feeling was that Eriksson could be sacked, without the £10 million or so compensation entailed in paying up his contract, if he was found to have committed ‘gross misconduct’ by misleading his bosses when he told Davies the original News of the World story was ‘nonsense’.

There was a great deal of off-the-record briefing and ‘spinning’ against Eriksson by members of the board, reflected in an article in the Daily Express on 31 July, when Harry Harris wrote: ‘Sven-Goran Eriksson will be sacked next week. The FA board is split 11–1, overwhelmingly in favour of ending his reign as England coach.’ Steve McClaren, of Middlesbrough, was to take over.

Two days later, on returning from holiday in Spain, Davies misjudged his employer’s mood, and gave Eriksson a handsome testimonial which effectively put him, too, on trial. The executive director said: ‘Sven is very popular and respected by the players. He has a consistent track record everywhere he has worked. He is one of the outstanding coaches in the world, that is why many clubs seek his services.’ The board were furious. Unwittingly, Davies had guaranteed his friend a handsome pay-off in the event of his dismissal. One board member, wearing a cloak of anonymity, thundered: ‘Davies had no business making those statements. It was taken as a vote of confidence in Eriksson when Davies is in no position to do it. It is for the board to decide whether Eriksson goes or not. Davies should have been told to keep his mouth shut.’

It was against this bloodthirsty background that the board met on 5 August. By this stage, the FA were so paranoid about leaks and adverse publicity that they booked three suites at different hotels and didn’t tell members where they were going until they were on their way. The real venue was the Leonard Hotel in Marylebone, where there was one absentee, Mike Rawding, from the East Riding FA, who was in hospital.

Blood on the walls? Hardly. After so much hype and hullabaloo, the meeting was the soggiest of damp squibs. The independent lawyer, Peter Norbury, had found no evidence that Eriksson had deliberately misled the FA over his affair with Ms Alam, concluding that the key conversation between Davies and the coach has been a personal one, and was therefore inadmissible. The meeting therefore broke up without a vote being taken on Eriksson’s position, and it was announced that he had ‘no case to answer’. There was criticism of Davies, for failing to phrase his question more precisely, and on a formal basis, and also for his fulsome praise of the subject of the inquiry in advance of its outcome, but a slap on the wrist and a reminder to restrict his comments to his area of jurisdiction was deemed sufficient action.

What did Eriksson make of it all? He laughed dismissively over dinner with his assistant, Tord Grip, but would have been far from amused had he heard what was said before the meeting, when there was broad support for one of his most trenchant critics who declaimed: ‘It’s time we were looking for a new coach as well as a chief executive. We need honourable, straightforward leadership.’

On a strictly non-attributable basis, senior football correspondents were told that Eriksson would be on trial in England’s first two World Cup qualifying games, away to Austria and Poland in September. Failure to win either of these would provide an excuse to sack him for footballing reasons. Ms Alam, who had been privy to the FA’s thought processes from ‘pillow talk’ when Palios was her lover, said they thought Eriksson was ‘more trouble than he was worth’. They believed his ‘sexual shenanigans detracted from his job’. Her advice was to get out before they got him.

Predictably, the England team leapt to the support of their beleaguered coach, but history tells us that players are motivated mostly by self-interest, and always rush to speak up for the man who picks them. They backed Bobby Robson, Terry Venables and, to a lesser extent, Kevin Keegan until they left, when it quickly became a case of: ‘The king is dead, long live the king.’ Claudio Ranieri, at Chelsea, was another good example.

The reserves, who rarely get a game, even when Beckham and company are playing poorly, are nowhere near as supportive, and one former England captain, who played throughout Euro 2004, told me, on the understanding that he was not identified: ‘We could qualify for tournaments with my dad as manager. Sven is paid all that money to win the big games – Brazil, France and Portugal – not the qualifiers, and the fact is we haven’t done that.’

Elsewhere in this book there is glowing testimony to Eriksson’s ability and success at club level. Unfortunately for England, in two major tournaments he has failed to live up to his reputation in the very different world of international management, and he seems unlikely to have another chance. The mystique that served him well in the early stages of his management has been stripped away by the passage of time and, in the places that matter, increasing familiarity was bringing with it something dangerously close to contempt.

CHAPTER ONE ‘PERDENTE DI SUCCESSO’ (THE SUCCESSFUL LOSER)

The epithet the Italian media accorded Sven-Goran Eriksson during the 13 years he plied his trade in their country sprang to mind after England’s second successive elimination from a major tournament at the quarter-final stage. When the Football Association recruited him in November 2000, at unprecedented expense, they expected sustained progress. Getting no further than the last eight of a European Championship won by Greece was definitely not what had been envisaged.

The administrators at Soho Square discussed England’s disappointing performance at Euro 2004 upon their return, and there was criticism of Eriksson’s management. It had not gone unnoticed that while the FA had the best-paid coach in the world, it clearly did not have the best coach. It was the cause of some embarrassment when a league table of remuneration revealed that Luis Felipe Scolari, who had won the World Cup with Brazil before taking Portugal to the European final, earned £1.1m a year to Eriksson’s £4m. Worse still, Otto Rehhagel, who was appointed at roughly the same time as Eriksson, had brought Greece from nowhere to European pre-eminence on just £490,000 per annum.

The FA considered the fact that France, Italy, Germany, Holland, Spain and Sweden, among others, had all changed their coach, for one reason or another, after the tournament. While privately rueful about getting railroaded into handing their man an extended, enhanced contract before Euro 2004, when he threatened to decamp to Chelsea, they were not, pre-‘Fariagate’, seriously tempted to follow the trend.

The chief executive who had pushed Eriksson’s appointment through, Adam Crozier, had long gone, and his successor, Mark Palios, was nowhere near as enamoured with him, yet the equable Swede survived for a number of reasons, which may be enumerated as follows:

1. Arsenal’s David Dein, the most influential of all the FA mandarins, remained staunch. Dein had effectively blocked moves to replace Kevin Keegan with Arsene Wenger, who initially had been the choice of the head-hunting sub-committee, and had gone to Rome with Crozier to secure Eriksson’s early release from Lazio. He was standing by his man.

2. The respect Eriksson had from the players and his popularity with them impressed his employers. Despite the shortcomings of some of their football, the England team felt they were unlucky to go out to Portugal in the quarter-final in the light of Sol Campbell’s dubiously disallowed goal and the early loss to injury of Wayne Rooney. It was easy for the FA to concur.

3. England’s players were overplayed at club level. The excuse was tediously familiar, but a valid one nevertheless. It was not only David Beckham and Steven Gerrard who looked tired after a demanding season, none of Real Madrid’s ‘galacticos’ did themselves justice at the tournament, and it was surely no coincidence that the winners, Greece, had not been burdened by lengthy Champions’ League commitments.

4. Sacking, and paying up Eriksson, who had a new contract with another four years to run, would be ruinously expensive, and there was no obvious replacement to hand. Wenger had said he intended to stay with Arsenal for another season at least, and although Steve McClaren (Middlesbrough), Alan Curbishley (Charlton) and Sam Allardyce (Bolton) had their advocates, it was generally believed that there was no English candidate ready for the job. Fanciful suggestions that Scolari or Rehhagel might be engaged were no more than that. Not only were they committed to Portugal and Greece respectively, neither spoke any English.

From Eriksson’s point of view, although he has made no secret of his preference for the day-today involvement of club football, the jobs he coveted most, at Chelsea, Manchester United, Real Madrid and Juventus, were no longer available. In the circumstances, coach and employers were both content to soldier on. That said, there was an acknowledgement that England had under-achieved in Portugal. They had travelled with high hopes, only for the country’s best crop of good young players for a generation to return with tails lodged firmly between their legs, using a side door to avoid supporters who had turned out to meet them at Luton airport.

Gary Lineker, no Eriksson fan, was not alone in laying the blame squarely at the well-heeled size nines of the coach and David Beckham. The former England captain said: ‘England looked jaded. We couldn’t keep the ball and defended too deep, but the most disturbing thing was how we proved that we have no Plan B. Plan A was to allow Wayne Rooney to play opponents virtually on his own, filling up all the space between the forwards and midfield, as well as scoring most of the goals. When Rooney went off, we didn’t know what to do. We lost all shape and there was no link man to the forwards. The whole back four just stood practically on David James’ toes, where any sort of contact on the ball from the attacker is likely to end in a goal.

‘England made that mistake throughout the tournament, and I kept waiting for them to get it right. It’s just basic stuff, and you have to raise a question mark against the coach when such things are continually allowed to happen. England also suffered from having David Beckham clearly not fit. He had a very poor tournament, and that was down to a lack of conditioning. To put it bluntly, he was off the pace, and a shadow of the player I saw in his first six months at Real Madrid.’

The FA’s response came from their executive director, David Davies, who said: ‘We are lucky to have Sven – and we’re proud of “Becks”. People very quickly forget, in the disappointment of going out of a tournament, that Sven is a manager many teams around the world covet. He is licking his wounds at the moment, but he has told us he is already looking forward to the next World Cup. Everybody knows David Beckham has had a difficult time recently, but he is immensely proud to be captain of England, and we are immensely proud to have him.’

The party line was unconvincing. It was true that Eriksson had been coveted, and clandestinely sounded out, by Manchester United, Chelsea, Real Madrid, Barcelona and Internazionale in the 18 months leading up to Euro 2004, but no one was chasing him after the tournament. Beckham meanwhile had given England no reason for pride – on the contrary, his condition in Portugal was little short of a disgrace. It was one thing for the captain to be hampered by injury at the World Cup, quite another for a lack of fitness, due to laxity in training, to render him a passenger in the closing stages of big matches at the European Championship. His excuse, that conditioning work at Real Madrid was not as rigorous as it had been at Manchester United, was a poor one, instantly refuted by Carlos Queiroz, Real’s coach for 2003/04, who said: ‘During the last three weeks of the season, Luis Figo was at every training session, giving 100 per cent, but David missed some for various reasons, or sometimes for no reason at all. Figo didn’t go skiing in April when the team were still playing in the Champions’ League. That’s where the difference lay. In the final analysis, one player keeps performing to the end and the other doesn’t.’

Beckham’s exhaustion was plain for all to see in the latter stages of the quarter-final against Portugal, and it was the captain who should have been substituted, not Steven Gerrard. Twice signals went out from the bench, suggesting Beckham came off, but on both occasions he waved his hands dismissively, clearly gesturing his unwillingness. Eriksson’s failure to insist on his removal from the action was rooted partly in loyalty to a player who had become a trusted lieutenant, but also in a character flaw. As his partner, Nancy Dell’Olio, said a few weeks after the tournament, in another context: ‘Sven tries to avoid confrontation.’ It was an observation that explained a lot – those ridiculous wholesale changes in friendly internationals at the behest of the club managers for one thing, the continued presence in the squad of Emile Heskey for another. The really successful managers have no such qualms about difficult decisions that are likely to cause conflict.

Support for Eriksson, albeit qualified, came from one of his predecessors, Sir Bobby Robson, who thought he had been ‘too negative’ at times, but said: ‘When I took England to the 1990 World Cup, I was a far better coach and manager than I had been at Mexico ’86 or the ’88 European Championship, and it will be the same for Sven. There is nothing like having two major tournaments under your belt to help you deal with different situations when they arise. My view is that a couple of the changes Sven made against Portugal were a bit negative, but I support his right to have the chance to show what he has learned in 2006.