Note: This Dispatch will not use the term ‘JT’ at any point.
So much for Fabio Capello’s thunderously ominous pronouncement that the aggrieved John Terry had made a “big mistake” after the latter had seemingly conspired to promote a mutiny in the ranks during last year’s World Cup. Apparently, some of the squad weren’t happy with the head coach’s disciplinarian methods and Terry used a press conference to publicly challenge the Italian’s authority. At the time, Capello’s swift rebuttal was largely commended and it seemed a fractious power struggle had been avoided. The father had reproached the son and a tentative détente had been achieved.
For many onlookers therefore, the reinstatement of the divisive Chelsea defender to the position of England captain has seemed somewhat disconcerting. In footballing terms it looks as though Capello has all but given up on the job. Having been usurped by the combined elements of an ever-critical media, the reputations and egos of an overly-cosseted playing staff and more tellingly his bafflement and struggle to both understand and tame the English psyche, he now looks like a pensioner sitting on a seaside bench waiting out the inevitability of his demise.
It was clear that in his press conference this week John Terry refused to show any kind of remorse for the actions that led to his demotion to begin with. Of course, he does not have to flog himself publicly like a Catholic drowning in guilt. His private life is his own. But the reason for his losing the armband was down to a matter of maintaining team morale – if we are to believe what we read. What is worrying about his elevation from the ranks however, is the idea that implicit threats and insinuations can intimidate others into silence and in Capello’s case, acquiescence. How else are we to take a thinly-veiled statement of confrontation such as:
“The manager called the group together and spoke, saying I will be permanent captain again, and that I’d done well on and off the field over the last year. He asked if anyone had any questions or anything to say. No one said a word. I’ll respect anyone who comes to me personally and we deal with it one on one rather than me hearing things or listening to people talking in the media, claiming they know all the facts.”
Was John Terry proposing a genteel discussion of grievances over a cup of Earl Grey tea? Or was it in fact a statement that challenged any potential disgruntlement from other contenders for the ‘throne’? A twisted form of omerta, perhaps?
John Terry as a player and as far as one can tell, as a man, clearly fits into the model of mythopoetic masculinity as propagated by the writer Robert Bly. Bly’s theory contends that men have through a variety of socio-economic reasons, had their natural instincts to be masculine suppressed since the dawning of the industrial age. As a result, men are forced to find unconventional ways in which to allow their inclinations to bond, hunt and fight manifest themselves. As a concept, this was taken to its natural end by Chuck Palahniuk in his novel Fight Club whereby men re-connected with themselves by enjoying the visceral thrill of the Neanderthal fist to the cheekbone.
For many a football fan, John Terry harks back to the perception of a man’s man. He is a ‘leader’ on the strength that he shouts a lot on the pitch. He makes the most of a limited talent putting commitment above innate flair. If he got cut, you know the headband would go on and he’d bleed for his country like Terry Butcher did (if he was allowed – damned ‘namby-pamby’ health and safety precautions, eh?).
Bly says, “it takes a long time for men to learn to be able to talk about their shame” and as a result, this can lead to the tendency to violence in the male of the species. It’s there with Terry, although unlike the cartoon thuggery of Vinnie Jones, it never quite manifests itself. Terry has and Jones had the ability, albeit in differing ways, to instill a sense of ‘fear’ in their opponents on the field but in Terry, one senses there is an underlying passive aggression, bubbling beneath the surface that gives off an element of uncertainty. And because of this, those around him, on the pitch and in the media alike, pander to him as a way of preventative action. Hence the over familiarity with the initialised nickname and the vomit-inducing fawning by the likes of Tim Lovejoy and James Corden when they put together sycophancy-fests in their ‘comedy’ vehicles. Everybody always seems to be eager to please John Terry because he might just have a word. The Shakespearean fool was always meant to offer the King the truth through his mirth-making but let’s face it, we’re not dealing with highly-cultured titans here, are we?
As a boy, players of the calibre of Steve Bruce and Gary Mabbutt seemed like giants to me. Real men and proper leaders, often called ‘model professionals’ and ‘gentlemen of the game’. The teams they lead were populated with men too, before the arrogance and temptations of material gain sullied the minds of youngsters coming through the ranks. Roy Keane’s very-own brand of masculinity and propensity for violence as a captain might have been a response to the preening prima donnas in the ascendancy as his playing days dwindled. But then there was David Beckham. For all his faults, he brought both femininity and glamour to the role of England captain. He was a perfect ambassador for football, making it acceptable for all to have an interest in the game, rather than the ‘boy’s club’ many still want it to be, as we have already discovered this season. Take a bow, Messrs Keys and Gray.
John Terry has married all these forms of captaincy together. He looks as though he’s a leader but he’s not. He doesn’t throw a fist at his opponents but he looks as though he might do. He’s adept at using the media for his own self-promotion but lacks both the looks and the savvy to make it truly work for him. In other words, everything about John Terry is a pale imitation of captains past. What does that tell us about the state of masculinity in 2011, then?
As cancer eats away at a true ‘man’s man’ and captain in Bryan Robson, England fans are left with a divisive player leading his country who can bellow ‘God Save The Queen’ until he is blue in the face. Have a word to say about him though and he’ll get the ‘boys’ to have a word with you. Don’t support your country’s captain and Corden will mock you into silence. Over a cuppa. Builder’s, of course. Like the man himself said, he may not be ‘everyone’s cup of tea’.
Fabio, I think you’ve made a ‘big mistake’.
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Further Reading: Pulped Friction – The Keys/Gray Scandal
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