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Copy and paste, as opppsed to cut and paste
Spurs look like they are going to finish fifth in a three-horse race. That is the latest joke doing the rounds after the implosion of the north London club. They lost to Southampton on Saturday and the barbs were inevitable. Typical Spurs, bunch of bottlers. You get the picture.
This characterisation is, of course, a little unfair in the specific instance given that Tottenham Hotspur are operating on a smaller budget than their competitors and have not signed a player all season. But what about the more general point about clubs having particular characteristics, or tendencies, whether good or bad? Can we legitimately talk about this club’s DNA or that club’s temperament?
The problem with this concept is relatively easy to state: the people who populate a club change through time. Spurs today, for example, haven’t got a single player or member of coaching staff who was involved with the first team ten years ago, let alone farther back. Hell, they are even playing in a different stadium.
One can understand how a player or a team can be flaky, but how can this apply to a club, effectively an abstract legal entity, albeit one of great emotional significance? How can the physical components of a club, from their people to their buildings, change and yet certain indefinable qualities remain in place? When stated like this, it feels as if we should ditch this way of talking, once and for all.
Before doing so, however, consider a study on Silicon Valley by James Baron and Michael Hannan, two professors at Stanford business school. They looked at more than 200 technology start-ups and conducted interviews with leaders. “We assembled the most comprehensive database to date on the histories, structures, and HR practices of high-tech companies in Silicon Valley,” the professors wrote.
One key finding was that the various founders almost had distinctive blueprints for their companies. Some companies launched with a “star” vision. A founder would say things like: “We recruit top talent, pay them top wages and give them the resources they need to do their job.” Others were “product” companies, which emphasised technology. “It was a skunk-works meteorology and the binding energy was high.” Still others were “commitment” companies. “Founders created a family-like feeling and an intense emotional bond that would inspire superior effort.”
Unsurprisingly, these visions were associated with different initial recruitment and HR strategies and exerted a huge influence on company culture in the early years. What shocked the researchers, however, was that the founding visions continued to exert influence years later, even after the founder had left, and the staff had changed.
“Origins matter . . . a company’s early organisation-building activities might preordain its destiny . . . enduring values served as guideposts for strategy and operations over time.” The researchers termed this “path dependency”.
Hold that thought while considering Manchester United. If you look closely, you will notice that Gary Neville, on his Twitter feed, carries a banner picture of the Busby babes. Other players often post pictures on social media of the history of the club, not least on each anniversary of Munich. David Beckham has spoken of how Sir Alex Ferguson would pepper his team talks with references to the club’s history. “It felt like we were part of a storyline,” Beckham has said.
Beckham, of course, grew up supporting United, as did Neville, Paul Scholes and Ryan Giggs so perhaps it is unsurprising that they are familiar with the club’s traditions. Over the past few days, however, you may have been struck by how often people such as Eric Cantona, Peter Schmeichel and others have articulated the United DNA, not least the values of youth, audacity and attacking football.
It is anecdotes such as this that, I think, help to explain the findings of Baron and Hannan, and lend at least some plausibility to the notion that clubs have enduring characteristics. The players may change and the staff may change, but the stories and myths, legacies and shared meanings, persist, often safeguarded by the fans. For all the talk of data in the world today, we make sense of ourselves through narrative. We are embedded in stories and, very often, take our cue from them.
Isn’t this why leaders often fight so hard to shape that story, albeit within the broader parameters laid down by history? Charles de Gaulle’s great achievement after the Second World War was to narrate the French national story through the arc of the heroic resistance movement rather than the Vichy collaborators. The American founding fathers created a narrative that persists to this day of American exceptionalism and a free people standing against the odds.
This is perhaps why Sir Matt Busby, Ferguson, Jock Stein, Johan Cruyff and others spent so much managerial force on defining and refining the mythology of their clubs. They realised that even young players, fresh out of school, yearn for a sense of how they fit into a story, and not only a club. They took seriously the idea that the way people negotiate meaning and values, and the way they interpret an institution’s history, has implications for the way they behave and perform in the here and now.
Of course, stories can impose costs as well as benefits. Most historians tend to agree that Britain’s desire to perpetuate the storyline of a global power has often led her into foreign policy blunders. It might not be too much of a stretch to suggest that some of the Brexit debate falls within these parameters too. Indeed you can probably think of football clubs that have reached for some unattainable sense of power or invincibility.
Yet perhaps the biggest danger is when the narrative of an organisation is defined not by insiders, but by outsiders.
My sense is that United have gained hugely from their history, and that the club’s greatest managers have leveraged it wisely. But I also wonder if the players and staff at Spurs find it difficult to ignore the pervasive insinuation of flakiness and mental frailty entirely. It can’t be easy.
What seems certain is that narrative matters, just as legacy matters, a point that the All Blacks, one of the most successful sports teams of all, would endorse. When the story is inspirational, and when it becomes a part of the way that people think and feel, it can exert an influence that transcends any person, building or manager.