The manager with the Midas touch

When it comes to managerial achievements, though, they might have to take a modest step back in the company of Brian Clough, who died yesterday from stomach cancer, aged 69. It is some testament to the power of that ebullient personality that he might be in danger of being remembered more for the quips and put-downs than for the trophies. That would be unjust. He deserves to be in that pantheon, and at the forefront.

Those characters headed great clubs from Britain’s major cities, clubs with huge followings and teeming talent bases. Clough’s managerial triumphs were built on less sturdy foundations. He turned a couple of unheralded clubs from Midlands market towns into champions, into world-beaters. He did it not by deploying the finest talents of the day, but by taking willing workers and moulding them into unbeatable sides. In terms of what one man’s vision and skill could achieve, it would be difficult to think of any example that comes even close to Clough’s.

For someone with such a down-to-earth accent, Clough could be something of a surrealist. It still seems the stuff of comical fantasy that Nottingham Forest won the European Cup in 1979. Clough’s collection of journeymen, hatchet-men, misfits and rejects somehow made it to the final, and lifted that huge graceless trophy. And mindful that posterity’s critics would carp that such a victory was a fluke, a statistical anomaly to put alongside triumphs by Steaua Bucharest or Red Star Belgrade, Clough’s team did it all over again the following year.

What tends to be forgotten is that Forest marked Clough’s return from the wilderness. He had built his first great team at Derby County, a forgotten club that Clough raised to a brief peak of modern-day glory. He built a side by picking up bargain buys here and discarded veterans there. In 1972 somehow his side sneaked past the illustrious triumvirate of Leeds United, Liverpool and Arsenal to steal the title. When he left the Baseball Ground a couple of years later, his legacy was a team capable of winning the championship again in 1975.

The mid-Seventies seemed to baffle him. Most of the country, and most likely Clough himself, had expected that he would replace Sir Alf Ramsey in charge of England. Instead the job went to Clough’s nemesis Don Revie. There are any number of dark conspiracy theories about why Clough was overlooked. The simplest explanation is that his abrasive personality was unacceptable to the traditionalists of the FA. It didn’t help that Clough, one of the first great TV football pundits, had been vociferous (and hilarious) in his criticism of Ramsey’s selections and tactics.

There was the bizarre 1974 interlude of Clough’s 44 days in charge of Leeds United. He had been a severe critic of Revie’s Leeds, and made the mistake of telling his new players what he thought of them. The senior Leeds players had enough power to ensure that Clough was shown the door. It’s difficult to speculate how Clough would have fared with England or with Leeds. His managerial style seemed to chime better with players who didn’t enjoy exalted reputations but were more inclined to be grateful to Clough for giving them a chance.

His favourite kind of footballer was the combative midfield player who happened to be blessed with the touch of guile. They were usually Scottish. John McGovern, John O’Hare and Archie Gemmill worked so well for him at Derby that he used them as the basis for his Forest side. Martin O’Neill was in a similar mould, although perhaps not so enthralled by the sound of his master’s voice.

In defence, Clough was a fan of uncompromising stoppers, perhaps because he had been kicked by so many of them during his short playing career. At Derby it was Roy McFarland, at Forest he paired Kenny Burns with Larry Lloyd. In attack, he preferred clever players to brute force. Derby’s Kevin Hector and Tony Woodcock and Garry Birtles at Forest were inconsistent throughout their careers, but always at their most effective for Clough. Perhaps his most singular man-management achievement was turning the sluggish, tubby John Robertson into one of Europe’s most feared wingers.

At Forest he rescued another slumbering club from obscurity, and with less time to build, relied on astute transfer acquisitions, and the occasional gamble on youth, achieved the impossible. After Clough, Derby and Forest reverted to their status as also-rans. Their supporters will be perennially grateful that he chose them to realise his ambitions.

It would not be quite true to say there are none like him. Football management involves not an inconsiderable amount of ego, and the talent for the occasional acerbic interjection. You can see elements of Clough in Jose Mourinho, perhaps most obviously that fine sense of justified pride in achieving European football’s greatest prize with a relatively unpromising club. You can see more still in Martin O’Neill, who can look as disgusted as his old boss at some of the ridiculous things footballers try out on the park. He shares Clough’s penchant for tough, reliable midfielders too. O’Neill knows though that he is unlikely to ever win back-to-back European Cups with a team on a shoestring budget.

Clough’s last years were marked by the sad decline of his team, and his own health (cynics darkly joked that Clough’s alcoholism stemmed from his winning so many Bell’s Manager of the Month awards). But then few great managers ever get to quit at the right time. The game always hauls them back into the dugout. In his last season Nottingham Forest were relegated and the fans bellowed out their adoration of their manager. Because they knew Clough was the greatest.

Stick that on his tombstone, and we can be fairly confident he would be smiling.