Think Liverpool’s form on the pitch is ugly? Well, the team’s performances are just a metaphorical blackhead. Squeeze the pimple and the pus starts flowing. A rancid river runs under the surface at Anfield.
That Tom Hicks and George Gillett Jr are appallingly bad owners for a national institution is a given. The Americans bought Liverpool with other people’s money and shifted the debt on to the club after pledging that this scenario would never happen. The new stadium, promised three years ago, remains unbuilt. And after indicating that the club would compete at the top end of the transfer market — “If Rafa said he wanted to buy Snoogy Doogy, we would back him,” Gillett said — funds never materialised.
One day Liverpool fans will look back and laugh at owners who could try to invoke Snoop Dogg and get it so wrong, just as they will snigger at an owner’s son whose e-mails should carry a similar sort of parental-guidance warning to the rapper’s records. But Tom Hicks Jr’s riposte to a fan, “Blow me, f***face. Go to hell. I’m sick of you”, will end up as the defining phrase of the Hicks and Gillett ownership.
The events that followed the e-mail — kicking off one of the most dispiriting weeks in Liverpool’s history — point to the stasis at the heart of the club. In a well-run organisation, a damage-limitation machine would move into gear. A statement would be issued immediately, announcing an internal investigation to give the illusion, at least, that the club took the incident seriously. Instead, it was Monday, after back-page headlines in The Times and a scathing column by Oliver Kay, that the club announced the departure of Hicks Jr as a director.
Christian Purslow, the chief executive, and his senior staff were unobtainable throughout Sunday. Damage limitation? Self-laceration would be a more accurate description.
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Most observers had high hopes for Purslow when he arrived on the scene in June, replacing Rick Parry. The new man at the helm was a long-time season ticket-holder, has a background in private equity and attended Harvard Business School. Rafael Benítez, whose aggressive approach in the transfer market had been at odds with the conservative Parry, was delighted with the newcomer. Yet, increasingly, Purslow looks out of his depth.
The chief executive has been eager to bring in new investment in the region of £125 million. Privately, and in a number of interviews, he has suggested that fresh investment is close at hand, most recently this week in a local newspaper. All parties hope that this cash influx will materialise, but you can say that money is coming only so many times before it begins to sound like “the cheque’s in the post”.
Even more disturbing is the chatter from around football. It is clear that being a fan would mean Purslow would throw himself into the job, but enthusiasm is easily misdirected. Some at Anfield have nicknamed him Forrest Gump, for his propensity to put himself at the centre of every big event in the club. On Wednesday night he was briefing ITV’s touchline reporter about Steven Gerrard’s injury after visiting the dressing room at half-time. After the draw with Lyons put Liverpool on the verge of elimination from the Champions League, the chief executive provided a post-match interview for Sky. Bill Shankly famously said that “directors don’t come into it. They are only there to sign the cheques”.
What would he have made of such vociferous courting of the spotlight by a chief executive?
Lurking around the dressing room before matches and at half-time, sitting in on Benítez’s press conferences and discussing zonal marking with newspaper journalists may be fun, but the phrase it brings to mind is “living the dream”. The club would feel in safer hands if Purslow stuck to the boardroom and business suits rather than court the cameras in club-issue sportswear.
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Yes, Benítez must take responsibility for the mess that is his team. But anyone who thinks disposing of the manager will change the direction of the club is misguided. It may just be that the entire boil needs lancing. That is likely to be a very painful business.
Tony Evans is the author of Far Foreign Land: Pride and passion the Liverpool way