New Contracts? Better Deals? It’s Only Money!!

New Contracts? Better Deals? It’s Only Money After All.

So, as the curtain descends on yet another premier league campaign, our thoughts and our focus now immediately turn towards the summer activities that will take place at dear old Brum B6.

In particular we mull over possible new arrivals, potential departures, and discuss the rights and wrongs, the why`s and wherefores, of probable new contracts for current Villa Park favourites. Particularly and specifically, this individual contemplates the latter, the probable new contracts for the current and existing Villa Park favourites.

With little else to do right now to occupy my mind and time, it set me thinking.

Over a half a century ago, in 1957 to be precise, a Crystal Palace supporting London lad, who at the time had progressed to playing regularly for Fulham Football Club (he eventually went on to play over 300 games for the Craven Cottage outfit), became chairman of the Professional Footballers Association (PFA), and took it upon himself to campaign to have the Football League’s £20 maximum wage scrapped.

He achieved his goal in January of 1961, when his Fulham teammate, the skillful and extremely talented Johnny Haynes, became the first £100 per week footballer. The country was shocked. Aghast even.

Jimmy Hill was that Crystal Palace supporting/chairman of the PFA chaps name. And so it is onto the shoulders of Jimmy Hill that we can heap all of the blame.

‘What blame`?, I hear you ask. Well we`ve been fascinated with footballers incomes, their remuneration packages, their ‘obscene weekly wage` ever since haven`t we?

And why is that?

Top flight footballers earn a lot of dough. Yes, I`ll bet they use up three quarters of the wheat grown in the United Kingdom doing it too. They are the mega-rich breadwinners. So what?

The only thing that knowing a footballer`s income, or believing that we know a footballers income does, is that it makes us like him less, particularly if the poor chap doesn`t perform to our expectations week in, week out.

Money equals nothing. Zilch, nil, nowt, zero, nothing. Lots and lots of zilch, nowt, zero, nothing, sure. I cant argue against that. But ultimately, it equals nothing.

When you watch a claret and blue shirted Villan send a forty yard pass straight to the feet of a grateful team mate (yeah, I know, it doesn`t happen all too often), perform a crunching, ball winning tackle in a congested midfield, or soar above a static opposition defence to nod home the go-ahead goal, are you thinking, ‘It`s about time too. The guy is picking up £40,000 per week`. Or are you celebrating wildly with the fellow supporters who surround you?

We don`t love football because its practitioners make tons of money. In fact, probably the opposite is true. Money has made many of us love football that little bit less. When I have praised Villans past and present for enjoying a fine season, I`m certainly not giving a second thought to the expanse of his bank balance.

Does the knowledge, presumed or otherwise, that Basil Villan made close to £x-million last year, make him a more appealing player?

It strikes me as strange that this fascination is limited only to the beautiful game (well, beautiful the way some teams play it).

How much cash did Robert Downey Jnr. pocket for playing Iron Man a third time? Will you walk into the cinema thinking, ‘Jeez, for what this guy is making he should be knocking off comic book bad guys for fun, winning the Eurovision Song Contest, and lifting the Oscar for the best actor, and the FIFA Ballon d`Or for the next ten consecutive seasons.

Nope. You don`t think that. You wont think anything. You`ll just buy a tub of popcorn and a super-dooper size Coca-Cola, sit back and stuff your face, and contribute immensely towards piling on the pounds.

Personally I don`t care what any footballer makes, be it a Villan or otherwise. I don`t begrudge him his pay, unless he complains about it. Most are too smart to do that of course. Way too savvy.

After all, any other opinion is of course hypocritical. It has to be. Unless of course you`d be saying in the same situation, ‘No, I couldn`t possibly pocket that amount. Its outrageous. It`s way too much money`.

Part of the expectation nowadays seems to be that the footballing public knows, or believes he knows, exactly what every footballer at his club makes.

Again, why? A footballer is a commodity, just as a house, a racehorse, or a Frogeye Sprite is a commodity. The notion of worth is irrelevant. He`s worth what any football club owner or manager is willing and prepared to pay him. And jolly good luck to him too.

Teachers should earn more, you say. General practitioners, nurses, surgeons, police offers. Anyone in fact who works to keep society`s quite delicate fabric stitched together should earn more money than a footballer.

No kidding. I hear you. That though isn`t going to come about any time soon. It never has happened. Probably never will.

Salaries used to be leaked to all and sundry by the agents, people who wanted the world and his dog to know just how good they were at getting their client(s) three quarters of the wealth of the Royal Family in one fell swoop. Now though, a player earns a new deal, and before the ink is dry on the contract, he tweets about it.

We all want more, more, more, and then even more. ‘I`m a better salesman (I had to include that)/doctor/lawyer/architect/ bus driver/ drain digger/ footballer, than that guy. Why is he earning more than me`?

It`s all wasted emotion. Of course it is. Money doesn`t make you anything but wealthier. Obviously.

In my first job out of school, I shared a two-bedroomed flat with two other renters. I was poor. At night I used to sit on the balcony, chug on a beer or three, and look up at the brilliant display of stars in the night sky.

I have moved on, as indeed we all do as we walk the path of life. I have a nice home, possess a lot more money than I ever did in the days when I was starting out. I enjoy the company of a loving, close family, and cherished long term friends.

I still though often sit in the back garden, and watch those very same stars twinkle away, just as they did all those years ago.

Know what? Even allowing for the much improved financial situation that I nowadays find myself in, those twinkling stars are no brighter.

New improved contracts? Ah, what the heck. It`s only money.

Have yourselves a great summer. Oh yes, and Up The Villa.

*****

And a personal note from Glensider:

*****

Hey there fellow Vital Villans. I just want to respond to those who have pm’d me and/or enquired about my whereabouts for the past couple of months plus.

Well I’m still alive and kicking, and now proudly possess a plate and four screws in my foot/ankle, and a nine inch steel rod that travels from my ankle up towards the knee cap. So sadly I guess, that means I wont be in a position to answer any call that Paul Lambert may have been considering making to me during the course of next season. Looks like we’re going to have to go with Christian Benteke again as our centre-forward. Shame, I thought that I possessed enough options and alternatives to bring to the table. Looks like it’s not to be.

I’m still currently in a cast, which will remain in place until June the 4th at the earliest (ironically our thirty-fifth wedding anniversary). The plan then is that I progress to a surgical boot, undergo therapy, and learn to walk again. I’ll be hopping, skipping, jumping, and running marathons before the big kick off in August.

Thanks to all those who have enquired as to my well-being. In return I send my very best to you and yours.