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I enjoyed this read so being the nice bloke that I am cut and pasted for you ! On Second Thoughts: Peter Reid
Monkey Heed's achievements at Sunderland were greater than those of Kevin Keegan at Newcastle
Rob SmythMarch 4, 2008 3:22 PM
In the nineties, there was a football revolution in the north-east. After years of football so despondent it could have been soundtracked by the Hovis theme, a messianic figure woke a sleeping giant with a kick in the knackers and quickly had it running to the ends of the earth on his behalf. His methods may have been rudimentary, with an emphasis on motivation over sophistication, but they were irrefutably effective.
Having arrived with the club facing a humiliating relegation to the third tier, this man averted that threat and won the Championship - and promotion to the Premiership - at a canter the following season. His side would soon make a significant impact in the top flight, achieving the club's best league position for nearly 50 years. He also presided over a memorable revenge victory that would go into club folklore. His reign ended unhappily, but as the dust settled and the club drifted back towards the ceaseless mediocrity it had previously known, all interested parties realised that they had enjoyed a golden age.
As you'll know from the headline, that tenuous introduction refers not to Kevin Keegan but to Peter Reid. Pound for pound, Reid's achievements at Sunderland were arguably greater than Keegan's at Newcastle. Yet whereas Keegan remains a loveable loser, bathing in goodwill despite his subsequent failure, Reid is omnipresent when lists of football's worst managers are constructed. Some even think he is the least competent of England's managerially-challenged Mexico 86 squad. It is a ferociously harsh verdict. He's a reasonable manager; so get off his case.
Whereas playing talent is concentrated in a pyramid shape, managerial resources are distributed like the bottom half of an hourglass: a select few at the top, a lot of average, indistinguishable managers, and some spectacular failures at the bottom. Reid is not in that last group, and the denigration of his record brings to mind David Brent's reaction when he finds out he has been nicknamed 'Mr Toad': pointing to the less svelte Keith, he complains : "If we're handing out insults for being fat, let's 'ave a go at him!"
Like Brent, Reid was stitched up, albeit inadvertently, by a BBC documentary. Premier Passions, the story of Sunderland's 1996-97 season, showed that the variety in his management generally extended to whether he should use the word 'fubar', 'doodoo' or 'bunnies' in his half-time team talks, and it is tempting to conclude that the historical judgement of Reid the manager (and player) is inextricably linked to the perception of Reid the person: as a bit of a Neanderthal, a perception that is exacerbated by his simian phizog, earthy demeanour and comic cussing. It's the same with Reid the player, who is best remembered for panting in Diego Maradona's slipstream at Mexico 86 rather than for a decade of almost unrelenting excellence, during which he was voted the PFA Player of the Year in 1985.
Reid's managerial methods were undeniably primitive, prompting critics to draw comfort from that reddest of herrings: style of play. And like so many late-90s Premier League mangers - George Graham, Dave Bassett and others - he possibly had trouble adapting to a dressing-room that was no longer predominantly British. So what. Reid may have been very much of his time as both a manager and a player, but that in no way diminishes the value of his work.
Here are some of Peter Reid's achievements as a manager: he was the last Manchester City manager to finish above Manchester United, in 1990-91; he bought Kevin Phillips, still the only Englishman to win the European Golden Shoe, for £325,000; he set what was then an English record for points in a league season (105 with Sunderland in 1998-99, although Reading have since topped it); he took Sunderland to their highest position since 1955, seventh in 1999-2000, and then repeated it a year later.
He went two better at Manchester City: in his first two seasons as a manager, between 1990 and 1992, they finished fifth. They also trounced Leeds 4-0 twice in 1992, either side of Leeds becoming champions, and it was a complete farce when Reid was told to do one four games into the 1993-94 season by Peter Swales, a man ahead of his time only in the sense that he couldn't wait to sack a manager.
His time at Sunderland was even more successful. When he took over in March 1995 they seemed sure to be relegated to what was then Division Two, but he saved them and then, the following season, despite spending only £140,000 in the summer, got them promoted at a canter - and gave Manchester United, who would win the Double that season, the mother of all frights in the FA Cup. They were relegated at the first attempt, but all the while Reid was stabilising the yo-yo and, when they were promoted again in 1999, they were ready.
A 4-0 tonking at Stamford Bridge on the first day of the new season suggested otherwise, but by the end of August they had memorably won away at Newcastle, in the process sealing Ruud Gullit's fate, and all was well. Then in December they took revenge on Chelsea by giving them a fearful pasting. With Phillips and Niall Quinn manhandling Marcel Desailly like he was a pub player - he was substituted at half-time - Sunderland stormed to a 4-1 victory, with all the goals coming in the first half. It was a result, and a performance, which deserves to be ranked alongside, and probably above, Newcastle's equally cathartic but hideously overrated 5-0 defeat of Manchester United in October 1996. Indeed, this rag described it as "certainly Sunderland's greatest moment" since their 1973 FA Cup final victory.
There were other highs, most notably a barnstorming 2-2 draw with the champions United that same December and, a year later, a 2-2 draw at Highbury in which another of Reid's bargains, Gavin McCann, proved the equal of Patrick Vieira. Sunderland truly were Arsenal's peers: when the runaway leaders United went to the Stadium of Light a month later, a victory would have put Sunderland above Arsenal and into second. Reid's stock could hardly have been higher, and he was even linked to the England job when Keegan flounced off in a sulk.
It started to go wrong thereafter, as it must for all overachievers. Sunderland slipped to seventh, and the following season, with Reid's lucky Irish charm, Niall Quinn, starting to wear off, they finished one place off relegation. In reality it was a just a regression to the mean, but Reid's success had created a culture of unrealistic expectation and he panicked, going on a spending spree - £22m in nine months - that was anathema to his beliefs. By October he was gone, but Sunderland only got worse. Having taken eight points from nine games under Reid, they managed 11 from 29 after he left. It was not the first time sacking Reid had proved counter-productive: Manchester City went from fifth, fifth and ninth under Reid to 16th, 17th and 18th in consecutive seasons.
His impact could be equally great when he assumed the position as when he vacated it. Sunderland were in freefall when they turned to Reid, having taken three points from the previous seven games. From the remaining seven they took 12, losing only once and comfortably avoiding relegation. It was the same at Leeds: four points from the eight games before he arrived and 13 from the final eight, including a 6-1 romp away to a good Charlton side and an unforgettable victory at Highbury to secure survival. Not even New Manager Syndrome can account for a 325% improvement. In the summer Reid was forced to sell Harry Kewell and could only bring in free transfers and loan signings. Leeds fell apart, and Reid was gone by November after a truly desperate 6-1 defeat at Portsmouth, but it is hard to see how even a task-force of Ferguson, Wenger and Mourinho could have defied the gravity that was pulling at the club.
The short spell at Coventry was not a success - although a record of 10 wins and 13 defeats from 31 games suggests it was not a complete disaster either - but by now he was damaged goods and there was no chance of the press or public getting off Monkey Heed's back. Of course he was not without flaws, particularly in the transfer market. But as Juan Sebastian Veron, Francis Jeffers and Mateja Kezman might testify, he is barely alone in that. Spending a combined £6.6m on the shadowy triumvirate of Nicolas Medina, Carsten Fredgaard and Milton Nunez, none of whom started a league game for Sunderland, was clearly not his finest hour, but most of his dodgiest signings - Tore Andre Flo, Roque Junior, Lilian Laslandes - were of good pedigree and damned only with hindsight. If Reid had spent big money on some of the obviously limited players Roy Keane has bought in the last 12 months, he would have been crucified.
Yes, Reid did buy (or, rather, borrow) some absolute garbage at Leeds, but to complain about that is to grumble that those heels you picked up at the market aren't real Jimmy Choos. And to disparage Keith Curle and Terry Phelan as bad buys for Manchester City, even at what was then a huge fee of £2.5m apiece, is to form an erroneous judgement of two accomplished Premiership defenders.
Like most managers, Reid got some things right and some wrong. He is not a special one, but nor is he among the dregs. He is, as Mourinho put it, just another one from the bottle, who deserves to be remembered as such. And he'd never be stupid enough to go back
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So close yet so far away
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