by Tom Bower
Suspicion and accusations by rivals nevertheless dramatized the relationship between Arsenal’s vice-chairman and Jerome Anderson. Football and its billions magnified the sentiments. Unravelling their relationship, inextricably linked to fortunes and sensation, could explain several mysteries, but there was no evidence of a paper trail. Regardless of their insistence that their relationship was wholly honest, the perception of a conflict of interest was used by critics to create controversy.
Football’s secrecy was endemic. With little effort and no public criticism, football’s finances were intentionally concealed behind the public image of an undisputed success. Arsenal Football Club ranked among England’s best, and was poised to challenge Europe’s giants. The lure was historic glory and unprecedented profits. The vice-chairman justly claimed credit for the club’s success as a football team, his advocacy of new stands and corporate boxes at Highbury and, supremely, the recruitment of Arsène Wenger as manager. But the financial hinterland to those triumphs remained a riddle, complicated by the inclusion of a new ingredient: Darren Dein, the vice-chairman’s son. Darren Dein, a 28-year-old solicitor, was retained as a consultant to Jerome Anderson, appearing to his critics to draw on the patronage of his father and the self-interest of the trusted agent. David Dein described his son’s relationship with Jerome Anderson as ‘freelance’. As a lawyer, Darren Dein did not require registration by FIFA as an agent.
The question to David Dein by Sir Roger Gibbs at a board meeting of the Arsenal directors during 2001 was direct. Gibbs, a respected banker whose family had been active as bankers in the City since 1808, is the former chairman of The Wellcome Trust and had been a director of Arsenal since 1980. He had become concerned by a newspaper report about Darren Dein’s financial relationship with Jerome Anderson. Gibbs asked David Dein directly if the report was accurate. Dein’s reply, it appeared to Gibbs, denied the existence of a relationship. ‘We must avoid conflicts of interest,’ said Gibbs. ‘Yes,’ agreed Dein. The vice-chairman may not have understood precisely the City banker’s interpretation of what constituted a conflict of interest. As a trader, and, like all those involved in football, Dein had not encountered the City of London’s strict rules forbidding conflicts of interest. In the opinion of the football community, the City’s rules for business were irrelevant to their sport.
Soon after that exchange, Gibbs obtained the prospectus issued by Jerome Anderson to float his agency in November 2000. Anderson had listed Darren Dein as the ‘Group’s legal consultant’. The banker again asked David Dein for an explanation. ‘My son,’ insisted Dein accurately, ‘has never represented Arsenal in any transaction and has never negotiated with the club on any transaction.’ The directors also received a personal letter from Jerome Anderson stating that Darren Dein only provided a limited amount of legal advice to the company. Gibbs was completely satisfied with Dein’s assurances, although neither David Dein nor Sir Roger Gibbs were aware of the disputed events which had occurred one year earlier in Rotterdam.
On 27 September 2000, Darren Dein was sitting with Frank Sedoc, a 35-year-old Dutch agent, in the Arsenal directors’ box at Highbury. In that intoxicating atmosphere they watched Arsenal defeat Lazio. Unlike Paul Walsh, Frank Sedoc was not registered by FIFA to act as an agent, but Sedoc was not ignored as Walsh had been by David Dein. The Dutchman had been instrumental in introducing Celestine Babayaro, a Nigerian defender, Roberto Di Matteo, an Italian midfielder, and Frank Leboeuf, a French defender, to Chelsea; and pertinently, for guiding Nwankwo Kanu, a striker, to Arsenal. Steeped in the football business, Sedoc ranked among those unofficial European agents whose expertise was required to satisfy the ambitions of the Premier League’s chairmen.
‘My father’s worried about Seaman,’ said Darren Dein, referring to Arsenal’s ageing goalkeeper. David Seaman was suffering from a shoulder injury. ‘We need a new goalkeeper.’ After many years in the business, Sedoc understood Darren Dein. The young lawyer, brought up by a father devoted to the club and the sport, was eager to profit from the same business. There was glamour, excitement and greater riches in football than operating from a soulless solicitor’s office. Darren had represented Thierry Henry, Arsenal’s French striker, regarding various sponsorship contracts, and appeared to Sedoc to be ambitious to expand his involvement with football. Sedoc was equally interested in forging a closer relationship with the vice-chairman’s son. ‘I know just the goalkeeper for you,’ replied Sedoc, noticing Darren Dein’s eyes suddenly sparkle. ‘Come with me, at my expense, to Rotterdam and I’ll introduce you to him. See if you like him and if he’s interested.’ ‘Who is he?’ asked Darren Dein. ‘Jerzy Dudek,’ replied Sedoc, referring to a 28-year-old Pole playing for Feyenoord, the Dutch club, and acknowledged as one of Europe’s best goalkeepers. The following day, Darren Dein telephoned Sedoc. ‘Jon Smith of First Artist,’ said Dein referring to a football agency in north London, ‘represents Dudek. They’ve already offered him to my father.’ ‘That’s not correct,’ countered Sedoc. ‘First Artist have nothing to do with Dudek.’
That brief exchange highlighted the misunderstandings and half-truths uttered by those desperate to grab a share of football’s millions, especially the agents and fellow intruders.
Two weeks earlier, Jon Smith had arrived at the stadium of Feyenoord Football Club in Rotterdam with Roman Manachefevsky, a Pole claiming to know Dudek. In reality, neither man knew Dudek and neither was formally contracted by Arsenal to make an offer to the goalkeeper. They had travelled to Rotterdam in the mere hope of initiating a multimillion-pound deal. Their commission would be at least £200,000. ‘Roman nagged and nagged me to go,’ recalled Smith, ‘but I knew it was a hit-or-miss effort. A flyer. At worst, a pleasant day out.’ Naturally, the two men expected to share the commission with Jan de Zeeuw, Dudek’s agent. ‘We can arrange Dudek’s transfer to Arsenal,’ said Manachefevsky, speaking on their joint behalf in the cafeteria inside Feyenoord’s stadium. The three men, sitting around a table, could be stigmatized as vultures – all intending to profit from the skills of a young footballer who was still unaware of their discussion.
Jan de Zeeuw had discovered Dudek at a sports club in Poland in the winter of 1995 and, with pride, had secured a four year contract with Feyenoord. Two years of that contract remained, but binding agreements in football were tradable commodities. Transferring Dudek to Arsenal was exceptionally attractive. Dudek’s inevitable new fame and extra income were a spur to Jan de Zeeuw’s dreams. The agent appreciated, however, his own vulnerability. He was unregistered by FIFA and could be ignored by David Dein. To protect himself, he needed an ally, but that certainly would not be Jon Smith and his Polish accomplice. ‘I’ll get Jerzy,’ said de Zeeuw. Minutes later, the goalkeeper entered the room. ‘Do you know these people?’ asked de Zeeuw. ‘No,’ replied Dudek. ‘Do you want them to represent you?’ ‘No,’ replied Dudek. ‘Goodbye,’ said de Zeeuw after ten minutes.
Jon Smith’s exit was the opportunity for Frank Sedoc’s entrance. Unlike Smith, Sedoc knew de Zeeuw and deployed a more subtle approach. Before leaving London, he visited Arsène Wenger at his home in Totteridge, north London. ‘Are you interested in Dudek?’ he asked. ‘Yes,’ replied the coach. Sedoc telephoned Darren Dein saying, ‘Come and meet de Zeeuw.’ Sedoc calculated that this would assure Arsène Wenger and Darren Dein that he, unlike Jon Smith, did have access to Dudek. Simultaneously, he could persuade de Zeeuw that Arsenal was interested in the goalkeeper. The vice-chairman’s son agreed to fly to Rotterdam.
The three men sat in the coffee shop of the Novotel Hotel, near Rotterdam’s airport. All three faced the possibility that a successful outcome might be a breach of Dudek’s contract with Feyenoord, a ploy which David Dein, as a senior member of the board of the FA, had repeatedly condemned. Darren Dein wanted to break into the football business; Jan de Zeeuw glimpsed his first opportunity to earn serious money from an international deal; and Frank Sedoc, as an experienced broker, expected to reap a healthy commission. Pe
rtinently, de Zeeuw had not notified Jorien Van den Herik, Feyenoord’s president, about his plan to arrange the transfer of the club’s goalkeeper. After just forty minutes of meandering conversation, Darren Dein stood up to return to London. De Zeeuw claims Darren said, ‘Good. I’ll talk to my father.’ Darren Dein vehemently denies uttering those words. He makes it clear that he has never ‘made any attempt to represent Dudek in a possible transfer to Arsenal’. David Dein unequivocally confirms his son’s denials. ‘My son,’ he says, ‘who is a qualified lawyer, has never represented Arsenal in any transaction and has never negotiated with the club on any transaction. There is no conflict.’ David Dein insists that his son never spoke to him about Dudek.
On 1 October 2000, four days after Frank Sedoc had watched Arsenal defeat Lazio, he was sitting with de Zeeuw in the Arsenal directors’ box watching the home team beat Manchester United by a spectacular goal scored by Thierry Henry. ‘Fly with me to London on Sunday,’ Sedoc had said, ‘and I’ll introduce you to David Dein and Arsène Wenger. I’ll pay for everything.’ Sitting nearby was David Dein. Sedoc believed that he had proved his relationship with David Dein by arranging Kanu’s transfer to Arsenal from Inter Milan for considerably less than Dein had considered paying. ‘David always thinks he can negotiate better,’ Sedoc had confided to a friend, ‘but he’s not as good as he thinks.’ Sedoc’s ability to arrange an invitation for himself and de Zeeuw to the directors’ box, and de Zeeuw’s introduction to Arsène Wenger in the boardroom after the match, confirmed his trusted status. While de Zeeuw discussed the possibility of Dudek’s transfer with Wenger, Sedoc arranged for Dennis Bergkamp, the Dutch forward, to sign a shirt for de Zeeuw’s son. That evening de Zeeuw returned to Holland convinced of Arsenal’s interest. Two important steps remained: Arsenal would make an official offer to Jorien Van den Herik, and de Zeeuw would negotiate the goalkeeper’s contract. De Zeeuw waited for Darren Dein and Sedoc to send Arsenal’s offer.
Over the following months there was no progress. Jan de Zeeuw’s version of events, sharply denied by Darren Dein, mentions a telephone conversation with Darren Dein. ‘My father is fed up,’ Darren Dein allegedly said. ‘So many different people are offering Dudek. Send me a written authorization that I can represent Dudek.’ Darren Dein denies that conversation, describing de Zeeuw and Sedoc as ‘mischievous’, but, in any event, whatever may or may not have been said, the relationship was irrevocably terminated. According to de Zeeuw, he feared that someone else wanted to represent Dudek. The Dutchman’s reply to Darren Dein was explicit: ‘No one is authorized to represent Dudek except me.’ To reinforce his authority, de Zeeuw claims he sent Darren Dein a letter also signed by Dudek, confirming that authority.
Frank Sedoc was also excluded from any future negotiations by de Zeeuw. Baffled and angry, Sedoc lamented that wasting time and money was normal but this was unusual. ‘There are only friends in football,’ lamented Sedoc, ‘when they need you. That’s when David Dein is my friend.’ De Zeeuw had protected his property and, after establishing direct contact with David Dein, he recruited Bas van Noortwijk, a respected Dutch agent registered by FIFA, as his new associate. That, he believed, would satisfy David Dein’s requirement.
In mid-May 2001 a fax from David Dein expressing Arsenal’s interest in Dudek arrived at Jorien Van den Herik’s office in Antwerp, the centre of his engineering business employing over 2,000 people in factories and offices on both sides of the Atlantic. It was a surprise to the hard-faced entrepreneur renowned for his straight talking. ‘Out of the blue,’ was his description. Compared with Arsenal, Feyenoord was a minor club owned by a non-profit-making trust. Van den Herik’s unpaid involvement was a time-consuming ‘hobby’. Dein’s approach highlighted the disparity: Dein arrived in Rotterdam on Sunday, 20 May 2001, on a private jet with Danny Fiszman, the club’s chairman, and Arsène Wenger for lunch and to watch a match against Utrecht. Dein and Van den Herik had seen each other at the regular meetings of UEFA, but had not established a relationship. Van den Herik’s impression was of a man busy networking in the corridors and whispering into a mobile telephone. Dein was a less successful businessman compared to Van den Herik, but in the world of football Dein was the architect of Arsenal’s colossus while Feyenoord was small and suffered from over-stretched finances. Selling Dudek had become vital to repay the club’s considerable debts.
During the simple meal in an office, Dein asked jocularly, ‘How much do you want for Dudek?’ Van den Herik’s reply was deliberately non-committal. ‘No player at Feyenoord has a price tag,’ he replied. As a respected businessman negotiating with major car manufacturers and building contractors, he did not enjoy the theatre of haggling before reaching an agreement. ‘Well, give us an idea,’ urged Dein, smiling. ‘OK, I’ll pluck one from the air,’ replied the host. ‘£12 million.’ ‘You’re joking,’ laughed Dein. ‘We’d only pay £4 million.’ There was a pause while Van den Herik gauged the seriousness of his guests, but that was interrupted by Dein. ‘We can’t conclude anything now. We’ll have to think about it. Can we meet the player and agent now?’
Jorien Van den Herik summoned Jan de Zeeuw to the room and watched carefully the Arsenal team shake the agent’s hand. From their manner, he remained totally unaware that Wenger had ever met de Zeeuw. He would have been outraged had he known that the agent, contrary to all football’s regulations, had visited Arsenal and discussed Dudek’s sale with Wenger over the previous months without his agreement. Just as Dein would be outraged that an approach had been made to Patrick Vieira, his captain, without his knowledge. ‘Can Dudek come to London tomorrow and see the facilities?’ asked Dein. ‘No problem,’ replied the club’s president. ‘I’ll wait to hear from you with a firm offer.’ Van den Herik anticipated an offer of about £7 million.
Arsène Wenger had the authority to offer Dudek a contract. In de Zeeuw’s version, the manager verbally offered Dudek a five year contract and promised to double his salary, conditional on a transfer agreement between the two clubs. Arsenal disputed that suggestion, although everyone was certainly optimistic. De Zeeuw and Dudek were invited to watch Tuesday night’s match, a testimonial for David Seaman. The famous goalkeeper’s anticipated retirement confirmed Arsenal’s interest in Dudek, but the invitation was declined to avoid embarrassment. All that remained was for Arsenal to settle the transfer fee with Feyenoord. The Pole’s dream appeared to be fulfilled.
The following day in Rotterdam, Van den Herik saw a large photograph in Dutch newspapers of Dudek visiting Arsenal. He assumed that the personal terms had been agreed and awaited an e-mail from David Dein with a firm offer. In his experience over the previous eleven years, everything would be concluded within twenty-four hours. Instead, there was silence. On Thursday 24 May, he telephoned Dein. ‘Are you making a firm offer?’ he asked. ‘We’ve got a board meeting tomorrow,’ replied Dein, deliberately playing for time, ‘and I’ll call you afterwards. But I must tell you that we are considering two other goalkeepers.’ Van den Herik was not disturbed; no other goalkeeper, he believed, could rival Dudek and the events on the previous weekend confirmed Arsenal’s intent. The Dutchman, however, was unaware of the implications of Dein’s familiar phrase, ‘I’ll come back to you.’ Haggling and keeping his options open was natural for the former food trader.
One week later, there was still no word from Dein. Van den Herik was puzzled. On 31 May, he sent Dein an ultimatum to send an offer by the following day or he would assume the transfer was cancelled. Dein’s reply was to offer £5 million. Van den Herik regarded the offer as meaningless. Europe’s best goalkeepers were selling for £10 million, and if Dudek was sold to Arsenal, Feyenoord would need a replacement. There would be nothing left from £5 million. Dein’s offer was rejected with a counter-demand of £8.5 million.
Jan de Zeeuw had also become impatient; the deal, he feared, was teetering. Dudek was anxious. Arsène Wenger’s offer and the subsequent publicity had convinced him of a certain transfer. The silence was unsettling. De Ze
euw flew to London to confront David Dein. An invitation for lunch at Dein’s home in Totteridge reassured the agent despite his host’s complaint, ‘Van den Herik isn’t discussing a serious price.’ De Zeeuw was unaware of Van den Herik’s contradictory complaint that Dein was refusing to send a ‘serious firm offer’. However, the agent was placated. ‘Don’t worry about Jorien Van den Herik,’ said Dein reassuringly. ‘I know him well. We both have boats in the south of France.’ But Dein’s comforting words were meaningless. Despite Van den Herik’s pleas and letters, Dein never contacted the Dutchman again. The stalemate was unresolved. Arsène Wenger flew to Tunisia for his summer holiday, Dein began sunbathing on his yacht on the Côte d’Azur, while Van den Herik, in America, was becoming outraged. ‘I can’t do anything,’ admitted Wenger in repeated telephone calls with de Zeeuw. In desperation, de Zeeuw telephoned Dein who declared, ‘I am committed to another deal.’ De Zeeuw was paralysed; he was unaware that Dein had negotiated with David Sheepshanks, the chairman of Ipswich, to buy Richard Wright, a 23-year-old, for nearly half the price of Dudek. Two days before the deal was announced, Jonathan Barnett, the goalkeeper’s agent, was told. Barnett, a former casino executive, was an unusual agent. Proud that he had only visited four or five training grounds in his life, he explained, ‘I wouldn’t know where to go. It’s a waste of time. I just sign players on word of mouth and recommendation. They come to me.’ Wright’s transfer to Arsenal was, the agent declared, ‘a great opportunity for Richard’. By any measure, it was an extraordinary purchase, not least because Barnett earned £520,000 in commission.