How to save football’s “bible”

Sports commentator John Motson – always a fan of the book. Photo: PA

THE LATEST edition of the yearbook that has forever been known as the “Rothmans” has reached its 50thanniversary, but how long will the doorstop of football data be around?

The last two books have been backed by the tabloid newspaper, The Sun – an unlikely partner but nevertheless a welcome one. In 2018, it was revealed that the publication was in danger of ending, just two years off its 50th. The Sun stepped in, but the lack of appetite from the previous sponsors underlined that the times had changed and like many over items we once took for granted, consumer behaviour and technology had almost made the football “bible” redundant.

It’s understandable that the unwieldy 1,000-page handbook might no longer be so crucial to football journalists, statisticians and geeks. The online world provides everything you can find in the book and laptops, tablets and phones make the whole process far more portable. When the book was first launched in 1970, it was a revelation – nobody had ever produced something that contained so much essential information.

Those early books were quite literally, “unputdownable”, from the line-ups of every game played in the past season to primitive maps of football grounds and diagrams of great goals. Then there was the Rothman’s XI from the previous campaign, people like Banks, Moore, Charlton and Johnstone staring back at you among the facts and figures. Each season, the arrival of the Rothman’s was eagerly anticipated, the first sighting was almost like the first Cuckoo of spring or the new wine from France.

The book’s weak spot was its lack of editorial, a shortage of genuine comment or insight on the state of the game or new developments. Unlike cricket’s Wisden, on which the Rothman’s was based, reading material was scarce. Plenty of reference work, but very little flesh on the bones. The diary section which was very popular and acted as a useful aide memoire, was scrapped some years ago and with that went a record of events and a sense of context.

Most yearbooks fell by the wayside down the years. The only real contender has been the old News of the Worldbook which has lived beyond the demise of that newspaper and still acts as a handy rucksack companion. In some ways, this book is more suited for the current age than the heavyweight champion.

But if the Sun book fails to live beyond its half-century, somebody, somewhere, should consider repackaging the product to meet contemporary requirements. Let’s face it, everyone wants info on football, the game has never been more popular. But younger people will not, in a million years, carry a big book around with them. They want everything at their fingertips.

The ideal offering could combine print and digital. The older generation of fan will still prefer to have a paper version, not just for the completist in them, but also because there’s an element of trust in the printed word. At the same time, digital means there are no limits and the product could leverage the advanced technology that is being used to exploit “big data”.

The new book could be substantially smaller but contain all the essential information that would enable continuity to be maintained. Repetition could be avoided, variety introduced and complementary editorial satisfying a definite need.

A slick, streamlined book, along with vast databases that would be accessible through the purchase of the printed version, may breathe new life into the yearbook and also win new followers.

As it stands, the small print of the book gets harder to read for the book’s traditional audience. Pretty soon, the old die-hards (of which I am one, incidentally), will find the purchase of a magnifying glass or special lighting is needed to make full use of a tome that has become an integral part of being a football fan.

I’m glad to say I have all 50 editions, but I would welcome a change if it meant it would survive into the future.

 

Commentary Box: Programmed for change?

THERE WAS a time when buying a programme at a match was absolutely essential. In those days, we were not bombarded with information, didn’t have the internet to fall back on and there was limited coverage of football in many newspapers. You couldn’t even contemplate the prospect of not having a programme, you felt you were missing out on something, if only for the “steak and chips” interview with the centre forward.

Today, programmes are no longer essential items and you don’t feel the need for one in order to be completely immersed in the matchday experience. By the time you get to a match, you could have absorbed as much information as you need via websites, social media and conventional print media.

Some non-league clubs in the UK have started to dispense with printed programmes and have opted for online versions. This is eminently logical given programme sales at many clubs have fallen and the cost of producing one no longer makes sense. Equally importantly, finding someone to write and compile a programme is a task in itself and totally soul destroying if the audience isn’t buying them anyway.

Programmes are almost peculiarly British and they don’t seem to have been an important part of football culture in some countries. Mostly, I have come across small, functional and free pamphlets or strange fold-up products that give the bare necessities of football life to the spectator. I was a little surprised when I visited AC Milan, Real Madrid and Ajax and got handed very limited publications, admittedly free of charge. In continental Europe, there seems to be a distinct lack of programme eccentrics putting together 96-page publications for a crowd of 48 people!

Programmes are not the only part of football life that appears to be disappearing. We all remember the Rothman’s Football Yearbook, which burst on the scene in 1970. What a revelation this was when it first appeared, providing everything you needed to know about the game, even little diagrams of club grounds. Rothman’s became SKY and the broadcaster has now fallen by the wayside, two years before the 50thanniversary of the former football fanatic’s “bible”. There was talk of it finishing, but The Sun has taken over for, apparently, two years, which may well spell the end for the book.

“We don’t need it anymore, it’s all on the web,” we are told. This may be true and you get the feeling that when the generation that still holds printed material dear passes on, the practicality and appeal of any doorstop-sized book may be consigned to history.

The sheer size of the book makes it a little unwieldy if you’re on the road and I have to admit, I bought a much smaller yearbook this year for easy reference when I am travelling and working and I have used it far more than my usual reference tool. But I have been buying this book since 1970-71 season (or rather, my Mum and Dad used to buy it for me for birthday), so do I suddenly throw the towel in?

Both programmes and yearbooks can be filed under “habits” that we might find very difficult to break. Have you ever watched a team year-in, year-out, fearful of missing a single home game because it would end the run? Did you ever feel that if you missed a game, it was an act of disloyalty, betrayal and life would never be the same? But then, when you did end some form of record-breaking sequence, did you then realise that it wasn’t the end of the world, the skies didn’t turn apocalyptic and, by the way, there was another game coming up next week?

I have already started to purge the past by deciding to dispose of my collection of Chelsea programmes (1946-86 complete), deciding to give them to an old friend for whom they are still important. I offered them to my youngest son (24) who I thought might want them as a legacy item. He wasn’t interested, even though he is a Chelsea fan, but he comes from a generation that has no need for piles of musty old printed products!

My next dilemma is what to do about Rothmans? Do I buy the latest edition, which is sponsored by a newspaper I have no respect for, or do I bite the bullet? Do I need to bite that bullet, or has the time come to realise I, too, do not need something that has probably become a victim of the changing times?

I’ve been told that disposing of all the hoarded, dust-collecting items of your life is a cathartic exercise, a cleansing of the soul, perhaps. On the other hand, I might just need to know who was in the Rothman’s All Star XI in 1971…