Coming up Rosie
At long last, it’s official. Harry’s not a crook. After five years, nine associated arrests and enough man-hours to dig a tunnel from Southwark to Sandy Banks, Harry’s been found not guilty of attempting to defraud the public revenue. The same public revenue that’s now £8m worse off for the privilege. Go figure.
It can be difficult enough just having a normal job and a boring set of problems outside it. As if Harry’s job on its own wasn’t stressful enough, the last few months have been filled with heart scares and high courts, undoubtedly making it an incredibly difficult time for him and his family. I’m sure it hasn’t been a picnic for Rosie either. But now, Harry no longer has the trial (ahem) dogging him every hour of the day. No longer will the team be deprived of his influence and guidance on the training pitch. No longer will they have to take to the field without the gaffer frowning away on the touchline. No longer can visiting fans regale us with the hugely original revelation that Harry’s going down. And it’s about bloody time.
It seems the case for the defence was really flogging Harry’s friendship and Mandaric. They were the best of buddies, skipping hand in hand through fields of daisies and tumbling into each other’s arms, the odd couple meets old married couple. At the end of the day, they’ve both come up Rosie. No more eyeballing coppers for Harry. No more clamouring hordes and thumping camera flashes. Or at least, they’ll recede from their recent level of utter madness to a more normal level of madness, the level Harry’s used to from one day as Spurs manager to the next.
On the footballing side of things, Harry’s acquittal finally gives him the chance to get on with his job. This whole affair has been one both he and the club could have done without. Another disruption to business as usual, another potential threat looming on the horizon, another destructive influence ready to undo all the good work in a fraction of the time it took to put it together. More damn uncertainly, more instability. Just when it looked like the club had found its direction. Up, not sideways. Now we can put all that stuff aside, at least until the summer. Welcome back Harry.
That’s not all. There are some other obvious results coming out of today’s news. Just as Harry’s been cleared, so has the way to his potential appointment as the next England manager. We know from Hoddle, Sven and El Tel that factors outside the game – particularly involving the law – can be instrumental in removing the incumbent from his post. The speculation will be rifer than ever, not least with Capello’s upcoming departure giving him free reign to spout his mouth off about the FA’s handling of the (latest) Terry issue, burning any potential bridges in the process. Speaking of bridges, maybe we should cross that one if and when we get to it.
Many see the England job as a managerial Holy Grail. Others view it more as a poisoned chalice. I’ve got images of the climax of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Poisoned chalice? You could argue it’s closer to a death sentence, the end of their professional credibility. I still shake my head in sympathy when I see Graham Taylor, still chuckle at the memory of Steve McClaren’s brolly and ridiculous Dutch accent. Then again, who wouldn’t want a job that earns them a highly inflated salary, the criticism of millions and a lifetime association with a particular winter vegetable? I guess you take the rough with the smooth. A bit like Sven. Once again, welcome back Harry. You’ve been missed.