kenny hodgart


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Recalling Robert Millar’s breakthrough Tour de France

This article appeared in The Herald

Twenty-five years ago this month the cult techno-pop hit Tour de France was riding high in the British charts. Europhiles may have been taken by Kraftwerk’s cycling-themed EP; the race itself, however, was nowhere to be seen on British television screens.

Here, the sport will never be entrenched in our culture like it is in France , Belgium or Italy , but at least these days one can follow the Tour – and the progress of our own David Millar, currently holding up well in this year’s overall classification – on Eurosport. On July 10, 1983 , another Scot, Robert Millar, won the Pyrenean mountain stage, Pau-Bagneres de Luchon, on his way to finishing 14th overall and third in the King of the Mountains competition, in his first Tour de France, aged 24.

Despite going on to become arguably the greatest British road cyclist of all time – his first trainer Billy Bilsland calls him Scotland ‘s “most successful Scottish athlete ever” – Millar was never properly acclaimed for his achievements.

Anonymity at home may have suited him. Now, certainly, he absents himself from any publicity – following his retirement from cycling in 1995, he wrote for a while in cycling magazines and had a spell as GB team manager, but is now believed to be a recluse.

Much has been made of his retreat from the world, but in 1983 the young Glaswegian was not averse to a little showboating. As he recounted to a journalist after that Tour stage win: “I looked round at three kilometres to go, and I could see the guy [ Spain ‘s Pedro Delgado] coming. So I put myself on the rivet again. And then at 500 metres, I took the hat out for publicity, put the hat on nice. And put the arms up. Always have to remember that.”

In the 1984 Tour Millar won a stage at Guzet-Neige and assumed the King of the Mountains throne, becoming the first Briton to win any major Tour classification. He also finished fourth overall, surpassing Tom Simpson’s British record of sixth in the 1960s. He would also finish second, twice, in the Tour of Spain – ceding victory in the penultimate stage in 1985 when his six-minute lead was eaten up following a puncture – and in the Giro d’Italia in 1987. His greatest win came in the Dauphine Libere classic in 1990.

Where his achievements were treated with indifference in Britain, Millar and other English-speaking riders who emerged in the 1980s were regarded with some suspicion at first on the continent. These included the great Sean Kelly, who in the 1983 Tour was busy winning the second of his four maillots verts – the green points jersey awarded to the best overall sprinter.

Having won the first of those in 1982, during which he also took the bronze medal at the World Championships, Kelly’s home town in Tipperary, Carrick on Suir, renamed its market square the Sean Kelly Square.

Kelly only won one Grand Tour – the Vuelta a Espana in 1988 – but was one of the finest classic riders in cycling history. He won the Race to the Sun, the Paris-Nice, seven times in a row, from 1982-1988, and following the introduction of world rankings in 1984, topped them for the next six years.

In the 1983 Tour Kelly finished seventh overall – his highest position was fourth in 1985 – and on his way to winning 33 races in 1984, earned the nickname “the new cannibal”, the original cannibal, Eddy Merckx, having retired in 1978.

When he retired in 1992, following a final classic victory in the Milan-SanRemo, and having won 193 professional races overall, he returned to Carrick on Suir for its annual Hamper race – accompanied by other greats of the sport such as Merckx, Bernard Hinault – the last Frenchman to win the Tour, in 1985 – and Laurent Fignon, who won it in 1983, and once more in 1984. There was no way Kelly, certainly a more congenial fellow than his Scots peer, would fade quietly into obscurity.


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Ebbsfleet United and the great ownership experiment

IT is a quirk of democracy that people aren’t often given the chance to vote on whether they actually want it in the first place. People power might be the least bad way of running a country but whether it’s any use in making a football club tick is something the people of Kent are due to find out over the coming months.

Opinion among the thousand or so prone to regular attendance at Stonebridge Road in Northfleet, home of Blue Square Premier League outfit Ebbsfleet United – who were until last May known as Gravesend and Northfleet – was inevitably wide-ranging when it emerged in November that the club had found new owners. In an era when England’s finest clubs are being sold left, right and centre to (in many cases somewhat disreputable) foreigners, it will ever be thus. Yet aside from the obvious point that Ebbsfleet aren’t even in the Football League, this was a takeover with a difference. The club are now owned not by one man but by the 29,000 and counting who have each paid a £35 subscription to the web-based venture MyFootballClub, founded by 36-year-old Fulham fan Will Brooks.

The buyout was finalised last month and structures are now being put in place to allow members to vote on decisions relating to team selection and transfer activity. There is – in a very real sense – a Blairite notion of empowerment to the whole model: the idea that by giving people a sense of ownership results will improve. Meanwhile, long-term supporters of Ebbsfleet – a club the size of, say, Clydebank – who were happy following a local side never likely to trouble even the middle echelons of English football, might have to get used to a bit of progress. Or at any rate to people from all over the UK, in addition to 1500 in the States, 500 in Australia and 400 in Norway, making decisions affecting their club.

Former Coventry City and Republic of Ireland defender Liam Daish remains as head coach, with MFC backing, while members are due to elect representatives to sit on the board. The manager will be asked for his ideas on selection, tactics, transfer targets and the like, but decisions – so long as they do not jeopardise the club’s stability – will ultimately be made by members. Any profits will be reinvested, as opposed to being paid out to shareholders.

Brooks, a former football journalist and advertising copywriter, knows perhaps better than most what it will take to keep MFC members engaged and interested enough to re-subscribe when their year’s membership runs out. “There is no guarantee that people will re-subscribe,” he admits. “If we keep getting people signing up at the rate they have been, however, then we’ll be at 40,000 this time next year. If we retain half of them then there will be the money to take the club forward. It’s part of our job on the website to make sure people do stay on. We’re confident of being able to boost the club’s marketing profile as well as revenues through gate receipts, the sale of merchandise and all the other traditional avenues.”

One way of keeping the ball rolling – as at any club – will be improvements on the park. Having advanced as a club in each of the three years of Daish’s management before going full-time at the start of this campaign, Ebbsfleet are still in with a shout of making the play-offs for promotion to League Two, English football’s fourth division, this season: although they currently sit tenth in the table they have games in hand over most of the sides above them.

Brooks says the club had been losing around £30,000 a month before the takeover, which should give it a cash injection of around £1million from subscriptions. Key among plans for the future, meanwhile, is the building of a new stadium in the nearby Ebbsfleet Valley. Last year’s name change, which brought Eurostar on board as the main sponsor, was intended to align the club with that area, where 10,000 new homes are being built in the vicinity of the new Ebbsfleet International Station – a major rail hub linking London to the south-east and France.

Conference league sides tend not to have much in the way of transfer budgets at their disposal but that may be about to change at Ebbsfleet, as Daish senses. “We’ve never had any money to spend, so anything that comes in will be an improvement,” he says.

The democratic urge, to return that theme, is, however, clearly something which motivates Brooks. It is his conviction that football supporters are capable of making the right decisions for their club. “I would never say fans are better than managers at making decisions but I think it can be beneficial to have the fans’ views taken into account,” he says. Whilst he admits that the level of influence MFC members decide to grant themselves is now out of his hands – and that they may ultimately decide to revert to the more traditional model of allowing the manager free rein – he asserts that voting on team selection will be in place before the end of this season.

Now, we only need look at the example Hearts to realise a lack of managerial control over team affairs can be problematic to say the least. Daish’s responses to questions on the matter suggest a degree of unease. “I pick the team and I’ll continue to do that until someone tells me differently,” he says. “I’m quite happy for supporters to make my job easier by going and looking at players I should be signing but I believe a majority of people on MyFootballClub won’t want to pick sides as they won’t feel qualified to do so.”

Alex Leach writes about sport for the Gravesend Reporter. He believes that while most people who care about the club are glad to see the investment, there is widespread scepticism about the extent to which members will actually have a say. “The principle of people controlling the club via a voting system would seem open to interpretation,” he says. “If the experiment is nice and transparent then everyone will be happy. If not, then who knows?” The hardest job on Brooks’ hands could well be in convincing members of that transparency. Otherwise they might all just go back to playing Football Manager on their Nintendos.

This article appeared in the Sunday Herald


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In praise of Arsene Wenger

This column last week praised Arsene Wenger for the dignity of his climbdown after proposing the metaphorical rendition of Birmingham’s Matthew Taylor to nearby Coventry following the latter’s horrifying tackle on Eduardo. On Tuesday the Arsenal manager was in rapture as his young side put European champions AC Milan to the sword at the San Siro.

The 2-0 result may only have secured a quarter-final place in the Champions League, but it was arguably one of Wenger’s finest moments and the surest sign yet that the team he has been rebuilding over the last couple of years is ready to upset the established order in European football. Too young, too fancy by half, the naysayers have chided, but this win will have lit quixotic touch-papers. Wenger’s five-man midfield swamped Milan, with Mathieu Flamini and Cesc Fabregas getting forward whenever possible in support of the lone striker Emanuel Adebayor, and it all proved too much for a defence averaging 33 years of age. Even the sole Englishman, substitute Theo Walcott, could not be contained.

Received wisdom has it that Wenger is an arrogant and temperamental individual, to cavil about which is a bit like disparaging British women for dressing unsuitably for the weather. He is, after all, French, which may or may not explain why English football has found him so difficult to take to its heart. That and the fact he has a master’s degree in Economics.

There is something irresistibly marvellous about Wenger’s story: how he left the family auto-parts business to pursue a coaching career; how he rose from being an amateur footballer to win the French title as manager of Monaco, parking his knackered Renault alongside the Porsches and Benzes at training; how he ended up at Arsenal in 1996 after having impressed the club’s chairman David Dein when they first met at a game at Highbury almost a decade before.

Wenger is the kind of guy writers love to write about – lucky the authorised biographer who is afforded not only a fuller appreciation of tarte tatin and how to deal with tawdry men like Jose Mourinho, but a glimpse into the mind that has been able to spot genius in young, relative unknowns such as George Weah, Patrick Vieira, Nicolas Anelka and Thierry Henry, in many cases turn them into different players around whom he is able to build a winning side, then sell them on to other clubs where they’re never quite as good as they were at Arsenal.

They may yet win nothing this season, but for the age of Wenger’s side and his comparatively tight budget, Arsenal are punching well above their weight. That record might tend to justify a certain arrogance.

This article appeared in the Sunday Herald


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Tour de France visits London

THE first time the Tour de France visited Britain was in 1974, when, perhaps still smirking with pride at their new motorway system, the brass in their wisdom decided the best way of showing off our sceptred isle was to have riders plough up and down a colourless stretch of dual carriageway near Plymouth.

Twenty years later the Tour returned and lessons seem to have been learned, the race visiting Dover, Brighton and Portsmouth and the crowds turning out in number. After a thirteen year absence from these shores, the opening time trial prologue rolls out in central London today, with Trafalgar Square, The Mall and Buckingham Palace offering a sublime stage backdrop.

Despite such grandstanding from the capital, however, attitudes towards road cycling here remain lukewarm. Since the Tour last visited British Cycling’s Premier Calendar Road Race Series has much reduced in size – in Scotland alone the Glasgow to Dunoon classic has disappeared as has the Tour of the Kingdom stage race in Fife. Motorists might wail and gnash about congestion charges and speed cameras but on Britain’s roads the humble cyclist is firmly fastened to the bottom of the food chain. Closing a stretch of road for half and hour to allow a cycle race through is felt to be  the height of leftie, tree-hugging madness.

When it comes to the Tour de France, it is a perennial mystery to those of us enthralled by its majesty that Brits on the whole just don’t, well, get it. For a start terrestrial TV coverage in the UK is now pretty much non-existent and it has become increasingly difficult for the novice to get a handle on the sport’s many subtleties. Riders compete for themselves and a team, egad!

It is perhaps its refusal to dish itself up in nice bite-sized portions that makes the Tour an ill-fit with British television schedulers. Over the next three weeks, 21 teams of nine riders each will cover a total distance of 3,550km, split over 21 stages. Each stage is an individual race in itself, although stage-winners often have no chance of winning the yellow jersey, given to the rider who completes the course in the lowest time. Overall winners tend to be able to perform well in the mountains and ride time trials, of which there are three, but there are two further jerseys up for grabs – a green one for the ‘King of the Mountains’ and a white and red polka dot one for the top sprinter.

Yet while all these events are won by individuals, a strong Tour contender must have a strong team to shield him from the wind on flat stages, fetch him drinks and food from the team car, or ward off would-be attackers by setting a good pace in the high mountain stages. The British are said to admire a plucky loser but in the Tour de France the loser is no loser at all. The ‘lantern rouge’ is the rider who is last overall, but he will have suffered a great deal to complete the course and may well have sacrificed much of his energy at the service of his leader early on in the race.

All of which gets to the heart of what sets the Tour de France so utterly apart from other sporting events. The cycling supporter is as much in awe of the race itself, its promise of heroism, the ritual of man defying both geography and his own body, as he is of particular riders. And that is why, despite the doping scandals of 1998 and 2006, the Tour remains unbowed. In France, millions buy L’Equipe every day to read detailed analysis of the race and its riders. In Britain we may yet discover that bicycles aren’t just for coming over all green.

This article appeared in The Herald