November 22, 2008
Birmingham City chairman believes that when supporters are suffering financially footballers must stop pleading poverty.
David Gold considers the brazen cheek, the naked greed, of Cristiano Ronaldo, the Manchester United forward who feels that he deserves a pay rise to supplement his £120,000-a-week wages. “This boy is not living in the real world,” Gold says with a sigh. “He says, 'What recession? There is no recession in my world.' ”
Gold, the Birmingham City chairman, may be a multimillionaire businessman and may offer above-average wages to his players in the Coca-Cola Championship. Yet there is a line, especially in the midst of a global financial meltdown, that should not be crossed. Ronaldo, the preening Portuguese, has crossed it.
“There is a recession for the people who watch Ronaldo play,” Gold says. “They are all feeling it, they are turning off their lights a little earlier, they're all driving a bit slower. They are in recession."
“For the United fans, sure, he's a hero to them and deserves every penny he gets. But not to the non-United fans. He wants more money? Yes, they may well despise him for that."
“If I was his dad or his PR or his agent, I'd be saying to him that this is not the route we want to be going down. They should be building his image as a loyal servant. I'd like to see players kissing their badge more, not their wallets.”
Ronaldo's apparent self-obsession irks Gold. Yet in 16 years as co-owner of Birmingham and 11 years as chairman, he has seen it all. The crazy owners, mad managers, pompous players. The credit crunch, though, has opened eyes like never before. “In the Championship, most clubs are on the brink,” Gold says. “They're surviving, just."
“As painful as the crunch may be, though, it has also brought a degree of realism to the game. You have to balance the books and clubs are doing this aggressively."
“Going around the boardrooms as I do, there is no panic. Everyone is being realistic. But when they go to their banks now to, say, increase their overdraft from £10 million to £12 million, they're being told, 'No, reduce it to £8 million.' ”
Players, such as Ronaldo and his lower-paid peers, are on fixed agreements. Yet when their deals expire, they will move on and not be replaced. Squads have to be pruned; it is the only solution.
“You can't end or reduce the contracts just like that,” Gold says. “You have to retain the morale of the players, they have to remain immune from the stress of the economic downturn. They are protected from all of that because you want them to stay motivated. You don't want them to be worried about a small thing like a recession.”
Gold, 62, laughs, momentarily mocking the absurd, insular nature of football. “In a way, football lags behind a recession,” he says. “But I know of clubs who are playing kids just so they can stay within their budget and keep the costs down."
“If a club wants to save, it has only one option. Get rid of two or three temporary staff on £3,000 a year? What's the point? It's a drop in the ocean. But you can make serious savings on a player earning, say, £500,000 a year. That's where you do it. When he goes, you don't get someone else in. You don't buy new players.”
Gold still has his helicopter, which he pilots. It sits on the front lawn of his 55-acre estate in Surrey. Yet even he feels the pinch - he has lost £5 million in the value of his shares portfolio - and he feels for the fans, too. At least they, in common with the chairmen and owners, know the score. The figures do not add up. “I remember 20 years ago, fans would ask their boards to be more adventurous, to try to get promotion, win a trophy,” he says. “Take a risk, gamble. But now they're saying, 'We'd like you to do that but don't put our club in danger.'
“The stigma and pain of administration is now so great that the supporters have altered their viewpoint. They want the owners, the board, to spend their money but, now, not the club's money.”
Still, Gold can see the light. The football club is a resourceful animal. “Businesses go out of existence but clubs don't because we've all got a dream,” he says. “If a club is in trouble, we will stand outside with a bucket and people will put money into it. If a business fails, no one will put in a penny."
“For the club, little old ladies will come up and throw money into the bucket because it's their club, it's their town, it's part of them. Businesses don't have hearts and souls. Football clubs do.”
Gold, the Birmingham City chairman, may be a multimillionaire businessman and may offer above-average wages to his players in the Coca-Cola Championship. Yet there is a line, especially in the midst of a global financial meltdown, that should not be crossed. Ronaldo, the preening Portuguese, has crossed it.
“There is a recession for the people who watch Ronaldo play,” Gold says. “They are all feeling it, they are turning off their lights a little earlier, they're all driving a bit slower. They are in recession."
“For the United fans, sure, he's a hero to them and deserves every penny he gets. But not to the non-United fans. He wants more money? Yes, they may well despise him for that."
“If I was his dad or his PR or his agent, I'd be saying to him that this is not the route we want to be going down. They should be building his image as a loyal servant. I'd like to see players kissing their badge more, not their wallets.”
Ronaldo's apparent self-obsession irks Gold. Yet in 16 years as co-owner of Birmingham and 11 years as chairman, he has seen it all. The crazy owners, mad managers, pompous players. The credit crunch, though, has opened eyes like never before. “In the Championship, most clubs are on the brink,” Gold says. “They're surviving, just."
“As painful as the crunch may be, though, it has also brought a degree of realism to the game. You have to balance the books and clubs are doing this aggressively."
“Going around the boardrooms as I do, there is no panic. Everyone is being realistic. But when they go to their banks now to, say, increase their overdraft from £10 million to £12 million, they're being told, 'No, reduce it to £8 million.' ”
Players, such as Ronaldo and his lower-paid peers, are on fixed agreements. Yet when their deals expire, they will move on and not be replaced. Squads have to be pruned; it is the only solution.
“You can't end or reduce the contracts just like that,” Gold says. “You have to retain the morale of the players, they have to remain immune from the stress of the economic downturn. They are protected from all of that because you want them to stay motivated. You don't want them to be worried about a small thing like a recession.”
Gold, 62, laughs, momentarily mocking the absurd, insular nature of football. “In a way, football lags behind a recession,” he says. “But I know of clubs who are playing kids just so they can stay within their budget and keep the costs down."
“If a club wants to save, it has only one option. Get rid of two or three temporary staff on £3,000 a year? What's the point? It's a drop in the ocean. But you can make serious savings on a player earning, say, £500,000 a year. That's where you do it. When he goes, you don't get someone else in. You don't buy new players.”
Gold still has his helicopter, which he pilots. It sits on the front lawn of his 55-acre estate in Surrey. Yet even he feels the pinch - he has lost £5 million in the value of his shares portfolio - and he feels for the fans, too. At least they, in common with the chairmen and owners, know the score. The figures do not add up. “I remember 20 years ago, fans would ask their boards to be more adventurous, to try to get promotion, win a trophy,” he says. “Take a risk, gamble. But now they're saying, 'We'd like you to do that but don't put our club in danger.'
“The stigma and pain of administration is now so great that the supporters have altered their viewpoint. They want the owners, the board, to spend their money but, now, not the club's money.”
Still, Gold can see the light. The football club is a resourceful animal. “Businesses go out of existence but clubs don't because we've all got a dream,” he says. “If a club is in trouble, we will stand outside with a bucket and people will put money into it. If a business fails, no one will put in a penny."
“For the club, little old ladies will come up and throw money into the bucket because it's their club, it's their town, it's part of them. Businesses don't have hearts and souls. Football clubs do.”
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