Wednesday 26 March 2014

Red!!! The Colour of Victory

              “This is red Mr Bluebird. All my life I have been in love with its colour,                             its brilliance, its divine eminence and I welcome any enterprise that                                     will increase my stock.” 
              The red laser beam crept further up the table toward what Bluebird                                     held dearest but he was determined not to yield to this bully. 
              “Do you expect me to love you?” He called out desperately,                                                 summoning up his last ounce of bravery.                                                                       
              “Oh no Mr Bluebird.” Tan replied calmly whilst his hands, wrapped                                   in tight black leather, manically wrestled each other in excitement.                                       “I expect you to win.”

And so began the transformation of Cardiff City, speaking in the only language owners believe fans can understand- victory. Vincent Tan promised success when he joined the club and all he needed was a change of colour, because red, as everyone knows, is the colour of victory. It was the words of a madman, a change of colour could not halt the systematic play-off failure that had blighted their previous three years. The problem was it worked. The year they changed to red Cardiff were promoted to the Premier League as Champions. Was there any truth in what he had done? Had the colour change made a difference?

Red has long been associated in China and many other countries in the far east as bringing good luck and joy. These countries hold a great amount of faith in superstition and they could find no finer bed-fellows than football fans. From lucky underpants, to meeting in the same pub beforehand, to sitting in the same seat, victory will be determined by whether the one fan in forty thousand has remembered to wear the red socks they wore when they last won the Cup. Players' rituals are even worse; which boot they put on first, what they have eaten for lunch, which hand they touch the club's crest with in the tunnel, all have great sway on their confidence for the game. So could there be any truth that the colour of the shirt can determine the outcome of a football game or more importantly the outcome of a league?

I have looked at the winners and runners up over the last ten years in the Premier League, Championship, League One, League Two, La Liga, Serie A, Bundesliga, Ligue 1 and the Eredivisie, to try and establish if there is any pattern that would suggest a dominance of any one colour over another. The results were interesting.

There were a few decisions I made, that I will disclose in the interest of a fair test. For any team that played in stripes I have used the predominant colour (for example Juventus- black, Inter Milan- blue), the only exception was Barcelona for whom I split their results between blue and red, so as not to sway the result. I awarded each winner two points and each runner-up a single point.  The result was an astounding victory for Tan and Team Red with over 42%, next was Blue with 32%, White with 12%, Yellow with 4%, Green with 4%, Black with 3% and Claret and Orange both with only 1% each. The results are so emphatic that you wonder what chairman in their right mind would keep their teams playing in any colour other than red or blue, surely its damn right irresponsible.

Except statistics, as always can be deceiving. The problem lies mostly in the Eredivisie where in the last ten years every single winner or runner up in the competition has worn red. Thirty eight percent of the teams wear red which might account for the high success rate but thirty three percent of them wear yellow who achieved no points during that time.

So what logical reasons could there be for red being so successful a colour? Red, along with blue is one of the most popular colours for clubs, which in turn increases their prospects of winning which is of course a factor. Perhaps more tellingly many of the points were won by a small number of teams dominant in their country over large periods of time rather than a variety; Manchester United, Liverpool, Arsenal, Barcelona, AC Milan, Ajax, PSV and Bayern Munich, could it be a coincidence that these winning teams all wear red? If it is not the colour that provides these successful teams then what is it?

Rational thinking dictates that we should discount the idea of luck, but there is something we encounter daily, call it our gut feeling, our instinct, something we trust within ourselves that ignores fact, that just... feels... right. We use this instinct to make some of our biggest decisions in life and footballers are certainly no different. We are constantly told how a player is unable to score, or miss, due to their confidence, a confidence grown not just on performance but on how lucky they feel.

Red is drummed into us from childhood as a dominant colour; it insinuates danger, passion, power and anger, not to mention success. It is something to be feared and respected. Is it really inconceivable that when these incredibly superstitious players see red shirts ahead of them or bearing down on them that it makes a difference to their instinct within the three seconds they have to make a decision? It is surprising given the high level of superstition in the game and the players' necessary reliance on instinct that sports psychiatry is not as highly valued as a director of football. In truth very few clubs have them. Liverpool are a club that do and Dr Steve Peters, who will soon be joining Roy Hodgson in Rio, has worked wonders this year with Liverpool. It is certainly not a coincidence that many players who struggled in previous seasons, Henderson, and Sturridge in particular, are this year setting the league alight. Dr Peters' previous roles include working with Ronnie O'Sullivan and the British Olympic Cycling team and there is one obvious link between those two entities-success. This approach is proven in other sports, will Liverpool's success and just as importantly, improvement, encourage other clubs to follow this seldom trod path?

So was Vincent Tan right to change Cardiff from blue to red? As a football fan I am pleading with myself to say no. I like tradition, I don't like teams changing their colours, badges or names. Even after this investigation I still think he wasn't right, blue and red both seem to have high levels of success. Where Tan was right was in being open to the very thing that we intellectually dismiss, the idea that changing the way the team was viewed, by others and by themselves, could change the way the team performed. Manchester United of the last two seasons are a superb case in point. The team is practically the same but the results differ wildly. The difference is confidence. Ferguson's United oozed arrogance, they believed that the goals would come all the way up to the ninety sixth minute whistle and just as importantly so did the opposition. Moyes' United are low on confidence, they visualise the negative response in tomorrow's newspapers, expect their team-mates and themselves to make fatal mistakes. The opposition sense this fear and away teams no longer go to Old Trafford to defend. David Moyes’ recent comments about being the underdog at home to Liverpool is a great example of this point. If teams employed someone solely to create an environment in which the players believed they could achieve great things, that they should not fear the opposition but be feared, they would pay back their salary tenfold.

Why have these teams been successful? It is because they believe they will be successful which breeds further success, and if they believe it then so will their opponents.

So is red the colour of victory? The answer is yes, but only if we believe it is.

Wednesday 12 March 2014

The Last Taboo- Confessions of an Adulterer

It starts with a confession. It always has to when I meet someone new, as if I can see the day the truth will rise up and bury me. I understand that, its the price I have to pay for changing my  football team.

I know it would be easier for most to bear if I had left my wife and children rather than my football team. People just don't do the latter, not real fans, its the last taboo of football (especially now we realise that colour, gender and sexuality doesn't affect your ability to kick a leather ball.)
So let me start at the start.
My granddad was a Tottenham fan, not a season ticket holder and in truth more of a cricket man. My father at the rebellious age of eight or so moved his allegiance, which is okay, he was a child, making his own choice, even if that choice was Chelsea. He fled into the arms of Osgood, Tambling and Chopper Harris and has stayed there ever since. 
He became a father and so I was taken on many an occasion in the mid-eighties to the Bridge to see Dixon, Nevin and Spackman and I enjoyed it, I did, even the poor games and there were many of those.. But life changes.
It was 1986 and I was already in love by that devastating day at Wembley the following year, with the club initially but eternally so with Chris Waddle. Yes Hoddle played like a God, Clive Allen couldn't stop scoring and Gary Mabbutt was, well he was Gary Mabbutt but Waddle was beyond God and was capable of producing miracles far exceeding his. Even when Gazza joined nothing could knock Waddle off his pedestal. Perhaps I loved him too much, and I can say that in possession of pictures of a mulleted child who bears an undeniable resemblance to myself. He was one of two childhood heroes, the other Luke Skywalker also left this father on the dark side. But when Waddle left in 1989 so did my heart. It travelled to Marseille with him but such a long-distance relationship was always doomed. England increasingly took over as my football outlet. I can't even remember a particular day when a decision was made to leave Spurs, I just drifted out of club football.

My father and a fifteen year old me decided early one Saturday morning in August 1994 that we would go and watch one of our local teams Aylesbury United play in the first round preliminaries of the FA Cup. The aim was to follow the trail through the backwaters of football, the grounds with parking at the side of the pitch and ferry trips to the Isle of Wight until we reached the twin towers of Wembley. The true romance of the FA Cup which is where I fell in love again. My father and I travelled to a league match at Selhurst Park to get tickets for Crystal Palace vs Manchester United in the semi final and it was watching the Eagles that I found my teenage football self.
At university in Yorkshire I would travel to Palace's away games at Bramall Lane, Hillsborough and Oakwell throwing myself into the animated away support. There were rare ups but mostly it was adversity, which perhaps is what I craved from my football at that time.
But times change and in 2010 for the second time in six years Crystal Palace were in administration and on the verge of  total collapse. My personal life had altered dramatically now, we had bought a house, weeks before the market fell away and had two small children to provide for. With this, combined with a fourteen hour work and commute, football should have been my outlet, my escape, but it wasn't, it only brought more grief. The football itself was restricted to two minutes of Championship highlights a week and an occasional paragraph in the paper. The opportunity to go to games had been extinguished.
I needed to be selfish with my outlet. I wanted to be excited about a transfer window, about the build-up to a match, about watching the game itself. I found myself watching Spurs again behind Palace's back. What  misery was I bestowing on my son and daughter, to teach them that football was only about struggle, they needed to know the beauty, to see the Waddles, Hoddles and Gazzas not worrying whether you are going to be able to stop your best player moving to sit on the bench for Stoke.
On the 1st June 2010 Crystal Palace had their day in court. This was to be the day that the club were liquidated. Friends asked what I was going to do and I told them that i wasn't sure, that it was too raw, but I was, I had decided I was going to return to Spurs. It was like a loved one passing away after a long illness, it was incredibly sad but it would have been naiive not to have thought about life in their wake.
Later that day the announcement was made that the club had been saved by its supporters. My brother, also a Palace fan, texted me emotionally with the news. I should have been elated but I wasn't. I knew then, if I couldn't be happy with this news then I would never be happy there again and  like with any relationship that cannot be rescued it was time to move on.
We don't expect to have the same partner from the playground until we die so why is there such a stigma against changing teams? Does it not make sense that a team can be the perfect fit for you at some stages of your life and a complete mismatch at others? Much like our relationships with lovers, friends, bands, brands; we develop and evolve as we grow and therefore our tastes change.
Football has become something to look forward to for me, through the various TV and streaming options I can if I want watch every game. When the time comes for us to win a cup or even perhaps the league I will of course celebrate and those that have supported Spurs all their life need not fear, it will not tarnish any of their joy. Did long-suffering City supporters feel empty at Aguero's last minute winner with all their new found fans? I doubt it. As with anything in life, work, love or football the more you invest the more you will receive. A fan who watches every match invests more than an occasional fan who checks the results and therefore their reward will be greater, 
Football fans should not be afraid of those who use the game as an outlet for their life, or those who change every season for the latest champions, or for those for whom it exists only on FIFA or Match Attax cards. In the words of the late Lou Reed 'You're going to reap just what you sow.' Football has a large heart and there is room enough for everyone.