Hoddle interview in the Times

yiddo

From today's Times

Game remains a labour of love for English football’s greatest enigma,

Regrets? Glenn Hoddle has a few, but a fresh start beckons for the former manager of the national team, a complex man of conviction

Matthew Syed

Few who have followed his mercurial career would dispute that Glenn Hoddle is, in his way, a special one. Set apart from his peers by his talent, his unwavering self-belief and, perhaps most of all, by the mysterious intricacies of his character, he has divided opinion wherever he has trod. For many, particularly supporters of Tottenham Hotspur, he is a god; to others he is a religious fanatic who was justly sacked as England manager for his reported views on the disabled.

But who is the real Glenn Hoddle? Is he someone who has been consistently misunderstood by managers (who mistook his flair for flakiness) and the public (who misconstrued a benign spiritualism for something more sinister)? Or is he a megalomaniac blinded to his failings by a deluded belief in his infallibility? As he talks candidly about his passage through fire and water as player and manager, Hoddle reveals, if only briefly, the many paradoxes of one of Britain’s most enigmatic sporting icons.

“The England job is an impossible job,” he says as we kick off our conversation at a rural Berkshire hotel with the topic of Fabio Capello, Hoddle’s handsome face betraying the pain of his own, bitter memories of his departure from the hot seat. “I think that the England job, particularly for an Englishman, is tougher than being Prime Minister. The only time when things are more difficult for a Prime Minister is when he is making the decision to go to war and putting someone else’s life on the line.

“The thing about being Prime Minister is that nobody really gets an opportunity to approach you and talk politics. But everywhere you go as England coach – if you are in a garage getting petrol, if you are in a restaurant having dinner with your wife, if you are in an airport lounge – you will have people telling you how to do your job.” What can prepare you for that level of scrutiny? “Nothing,” he says. “I am not sure that the England manager should be paid as much as he is now, but one of the reasons that the salary is so high is because of the incredible level of intrusion.

“The one advantage Capello has from that perspective is his lack of English. When I went to France to play I was not good for the first six months but I never saw the things written about me because I couldn’t read French. In the same way, Capello can distance himself from what the press is saying. I would advise him not to read the papers unless there is something that he really needs to know.”

Could you resist the temptation of reading the papers as England manager? “I didn’t read the papers as such but unfortunately my mum did,” he says, laughing resignedly at the memory. “It was the worst thing ever because the bad headlines affect your family more than yourself. My father [who has since died] was an easygoing person who wasn’t fazed by anything. But my mum is more emotional. She took things very badly.”

I find myself warming to Hoddle. His face is capable of conveying great extremes of emotion – boyish enthusiasm at the age of 50 one minute, profound angst the next – that hints at the deep and unexplored dimensions of his character. But one also senses his reluctance to open up, as if he has developed a sixth sense of when he is in danger of leaving himself open to the ridicule that has haunted him since he first talked about his beliefs.

We move on to his acrimonious departure from the England job in 1999 after an interview with Matt Dickinson, then Football Correspondent of The Times, in which he said that the disabled were paying for their crimes in a previous life. “I didn’t express that view,” he says, repeating an oft-expressed assertion that he was misconstrued in the article that led to his dismissal. “But when you are England manager there will always be certain people who want you out of the job. It will happen to Capello, it happened to Sven [-Göran Eriksson] and it happened to me. That is why it is called the poisoned chalice.”

I reply that the article was corroborated both by the reporter’s notebook and previous remarks made by Hoddle, but he brushes this aside. “In the end I didn’t want to work for people who were that weak,” he says. “I was thinking, ‘These people are not strong enough to stick behind me, even if the story had been true.’ If there had been a few bad results then I would have admitted that they were well within their rights to wobble. But the results were good. I sometimes wonder about the fact that the FA set up the interview in the first place. One day I will put the record straight.”

Many have argued that Hoddle’s sacking was an affront to free speech, that his reported views on the disabled were no more offensive than those expressed from pulpits every Sunday. But, putting that to one side, it is clear that, whatever his views at the time, Hoddle’s beliefs have moved on.

“I really don’t believe the things that were said about the disabled,” he says. “Yes, I believe in reincarnation, along with many millions of others around the world. But I am not going to spend my time today talking about religion because it will become the story and will obscure the other things I want to say. What I can say is that it is one of my deepest regrets that there are disabled people out there who still believe that I think those things.”

If Hoddle has another great regret it is that he was unappreciated by a succession of England managers. Bobby Robson ought to have constructed his England team around the flair of the Spurs midfield player in the 1980s. Hoddle, who was capped on only 53 occasions, is candid about his lasting frustration. “They called me a luxury player,” he says. “I used to laugh my head off when people said it. I would think, ‘What about all the run-of-the-mill players – there are hundreds of them in this country. Are they not luxury players?’

“Perhaps the most frustrating thing of all is that those of us who tried to play creative football had everything stacked against us. Because there wasn’t a six-second rule or a back-pass rule they would wait for the back four to squeeze right up to the halfway line, which is why Wimbledon and Watford had a lot of joy. So it meant we were playing in 40 yards of mud. The ball would drop down and you would have to do something on those horrendous pitches surrounded by 20 players in a 60 by 40 area.

“You also didn’t have the protection that exists today. Wherever I went I had a guy trying to block me, pull my shirt or spit at me. Now the creative players are given more protection. I would love to play with today’s rules on today’s pitches.”

Hoddle’s latest challenge is to raise finance for an innovative football academy in Spain. As he speaks about the project I find myself wondering if this complex man is ever afflicted by a nagging sense that football is a rather trivial thing to devote one’s life to.

“I have never felt that football is superficial,” he says, nodding at the thrust of the question. “It’s funny, but it has always been a labour of love for me. Even now I am raring to get out to the academy and change the lives of these young players.”

Whatever one ultimately thinks about Hoddle – the man, the manager, the footballing genius – the thing you could never doubt is his conviction.

Destination Spain

— Glenn Hoddle was thrust into the proverbial Dragons’ Den last night when he made a presentation to some of Britain’s most powerful businessmen in Pall Mall, Central London.

— The former England manager was seeking to raise finance for a football academy in Spain that aims to give another chance to the dozens of youngsters discarded by clubs every year.

— The academy, which will be based in Montecastillo, will be the first independent, professional football academy and will seek to remedy the familiar problem that club managers prefer to buy than to develop talent.

— “The decision on young footballers’ future is made far too soon,” Hoddle says. “We plan to take 40 of the best players ditched by the club system and develop a large percentage of them into professionals within two years. This is all about giving lads a second chance.”