By Barney Ronay, The Guardian
How they used to be
Extracted from The Manager: The Absurd Ascent of the Most Important Man in Football by Barney Ronay
The manager first appeared in the late years of the 19th century, during the great flowering of soon-to-be-professional football clubs. Recruiting from the ranks of ex-players was out. At this stage there was no such thing as an ex-player. So managers were sourced from other industries, usually the senior ranks of manual labour, the factory clerk and shop steward.
Often, very little is known about these men. We do have photographs: blank, stern, narrow-eyed men in waistcoats and watch-chains. The best surviving likeness of Harry Newbould, manager of Manchester City in the early years of the last century, resembles a vaguely defeated provincial accountant (which he was).
Managers often worked seven days a week. It was a business of sleeper cars, boarding houses and the many mechanical perils of 19th-century domestic infrastructure.
Death on the job was common. John Nicholson, appointed Sheffield United secretary-manager in 1899, was run over and killed by a lorry on the way to a match. Sheffield Wednesday manager Robert Brown collapsed while boarding a train in March 1935, and Coventry City’s Dick Bayliss fell ill after a drive back from Southend during “the great freeze” of 1947.
Managers who died of the cold form a club of their own. Herbert Chapman succumbed to a chill a week after watching Arsenal’s third team play at Guildford one night in January 1934; Norwich manager James Kerr did the same a month later. On a more positive note, Millwall manager Bill Voisey survived a direct hit on the Den during a second world war air raid (he retired from his post with severe injuries).
In The Game Video
In the first of a six-part series, Barney Ronay looks at how Herbert Chapman transformed the role of the football coach from virtual secretary to integral component of the game.
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