Broken Dreams

by Tom Bower

  Unlike most outfield players, goalkeepers can continue to improve into their thirties and Jerzy Dudek ranked among the world’s best. By comparison, Richard Wright was inexperienced and arguably an unsuitable replacement for Seaman. Some could not believe that Wenger, ambitious to win all the trophies, would choose Wright. ‘Are you in charge or not?’ de Zeeuw asked Wenger. ‘There’s nothing I could do,’ replied Wenger, denying that Arsenal’s negotiations for Dudek had been worthless.

  The news outraged Van den Herik. ‘There had been no misunderstandings with David Dein,’ he declared. ‘Dein was possibly pursuing an unknown agenda.’ The consequences were unfortunate. The collapse of the transfer unsettled Dudek and Van den Herik had no choice other than to sell the goalkeeper. His sale to Liverpool for £4.5 million was less than Arsenal’s offer, while Richard Wright, after the transfer, sat on the bench at Highbury practically unused. In July 2002, Arsène Wenger showed his lack of confidence in Wright and the goalkeeper was sold to Everton for £4.5 million. In the aftermath, Dein explained that, although he had wanted a deal, Van den Herik had asked for too much. Nevertheless Dein felt obliged towards the Dutchman. In reconciliation and to compensate the club, Dein agreed to play Feyenoord in a friendly match, but that event never materialized. De Zeeuw was also bewildered and could only rue Frank Sedoc’s trenchant obituary: ‘If you had dealt with Darren, there probably would have been no problem.’ De Zeeuw assumed that his mistake was to have rebuffed Darren Dein or failed to consult Jerome Anderson.

  That judgement was vigorously rejected by David Dein, complaining about a familiar backlash from all those who got squeezed out. Arsène Wenger made the decision, Dein explained, and Richard Wright was cheaper. And, critically, David Seaman remained as Arsenal’s goalkeeper.

  The circumstances of Stepanovs’s and Dudek’s transfers were quoted by those resentful of David Dein’s considerable influence in English football. The appointment of Adam Crozier as the chief executive of the FA; the appointment of Richard Scudamore as the chief executive of the Premier League; the appointment of Sven-Göran Eriksson as the England coach; and the dismissal of Ken Bates as chairman of Wembley stadium’s reconstruction could all be traced to the leverage and energy of David Dein. He was undoubtedly a modernizing influence in English football who had even introduced displaying the names of players on their shirts. All that activity had spawned enemies. Their weapon was the revelation of a financial relationship between Darren Dein and Jerome Anderson. Publicizing that potential conflict of interest alerted Arsenal’s directors to formally request a statement from David Dein at a board meeting. David Dein’s assurances were accepted but the publicity was unwelcome. The embarrassment did not detract from the evidence suggesting a man of undisputed ability, vision and utter devotion to Arsenal and English football. Yet like many in the game Dein’s record outside football influenced his reputation.

  Born in 1943, Dein dropped out of university and developed a flourishing business as an importer of Caribbean foods under a railway arch in Shepherd’s Bush, branching out later to become a sugar trader. In 1983, Peter Hill-Wood, the chairman of Arsenal, offered a 17 per cent stake in the club to several City friends, but all rejected the chalice. Football was in crisis, attendances were falling and some of England’s best players were employed by European clubs. Dein, a passionate supporter of Arsenal, bought the stake for £290,000. By 1991, he had increased his shareholding to 30 per cent despite a meltdown of his personal fortunes. His sugar business had been hit by a third-party fraud and was threatened with insolvency. Despite his misfortune as a businessman, he promoted himself as the representative of the new commercial thinking in English football, although occasionally his judgement proved to be faulty. In 1991, he supported ITV’s bid rather than Sky’s higher bid for the exclusive rights of Premier League; and after 1991 he promoted the notion that multinational corporations would invest in the new Premier League clubs. That sponsorship, he argued, would ‘bring the lower divisions more than they have now . . . the lower divisions will probably be better off’. Those predictions proved to be mistaken. In 1995, Dein lost a personal court battle to recover £13 million from the fraud. His food, sugar and haulage business collapsed. To settle his debts, he reduced his shareholding in Arsenal after 1996 to 16 per cent. The purchaser of his shares was Danny Fiszman, a diamond and property dealer, content to allow Dein to occupy the spotlight as the continuing mastermind behind Arsenal’s success. Fiszman paid less for his shares than Granada’s investment in 2000 of £47 million for a 5 per cent stake.

  Dein’s triple ambition to be elected the chairman of the FA, to become England’s representative at UEFA and to occupy a seat on FIFA’s executive. His election campaigns for power in the FA embraced a notably moral tone, particularly targeted against agents. A polite, gentlemanly manner bestowed credibility on his repeated criticism of agents for destabilizing and even poisoning his club’s relationships with players. One headache for Dein was the activities in June 1999 of Claude Anelka, the brother of Nicolas Anelka, a French striker contracted for four years to Arsenal. Claude Anelka had discovered that Real Madrid were willing to pay a huge sum for his brother. The incentive to provoke a breach of contract with Arsenal and arrange his brother’s transfer was a reported commission of £6 million from Real Madrid. According to Dein’s complaint, Claude Anelka, helped by Marc Roger, an unregistered agent, sought to induce the premature release of Nicolas Anelka from Arsenal’s contract by issuing barbed remarks about the footballer’s impending ‘illness’ and need for a ‘rest’. Real promised Nicolas Anelka a gross annual salary of about $8 million. ‘Life is a jungle,’ explained Claude Anelka. ‘So I have to do what we want to do.’ Dein’s informant was Vincenzo Morabito, who represented Lazio’s interest in Anelka, and had seen Real Madrid’s unsigned contracts. ‘That’s the usual way they work,’ commented Morabito. ‘We feel as if we are being blackmailed by Anelka,’ complained Dein, who nevertheless awaited a counter-offer from Juventus of Italy.

  On 2 August 1999, Dein succumbed to the so-called ‘blackmail’ and Arsenal accepted £22 million from Real Madrid for Anelka. Dein’s public protestations of outrage were criticized by those who recalled how Dein had originally spirited the 17-year-old Anelka away from his Paris team in February 1997, albeit paying £500,000 in compensation for the breach of Anelka’s contract. In Dein’s opinion the purchase of Anelka was entirely legitimate. Two years later, Dein said that the £22 million received for Anelka had established his club’s astute identification of an outstanding young player. Yet, in the same breath, Dein reinvigorated his campaign against agents. ‘I have been on a crusade,’ Dein announced, ‘since the Anelka saga to ensure agents act in a proper, orderly and dignified manner.’ Both Anelka and Marc Roger questioned whether Dein himself always abided by those same standards towards agents. Mel Goldberg was an agent voicing similar doubts.

  In autumn 1994, Mel Goldberg, a solicitor, was seeking a club for the forward Dennis Bergkamp who was anxious to transfer to an English club. Before telephoning David Dein, a personal friend, Goldberg travelled to Milan with Kevin Keegan, the coach of Newcastle United, and two directors of the club. The group had been greeted in the Palladian apartment of Massimo Moratti, the president of Inter Milan, a renowned titan in the football world. During a formal lunch served by white-gloved waiters from silver platters, Moratti, speaking in English, had promoted the value of Bergkamp.

  Mel Goldberg’s presence at the lunch provided a glimpse of the Byzantine nature of the football business. The lawyer from north London, anxious to earn a commission from the player’s transfer, did not represent Newcastle, Inter Milan or the footballer. His introduction had been prompted by a telephone call from Giuseppe ‘Pino’ Pagliara, an Italian agent living in Manchester. ‘Milan want to sell Bergkamp,’ Pagliara had said. ‘Can you put a deal together? They want £5.5 million.’ At his own risk, Goldberg faced the middleman’s dilemma of matching the buyer and seller without the promise of exclusivity. H
is success was to arrange the lunch and, in the event of a transfer, he would expect to be paid by both clubs. Significantly, Rob Jansen, the player’s Dutch agent, was not invited to the lunch and had not even been informed about the meeting. His involvement would only become necessary after the two clubs agreed on a transfer and the player assented to move to Newcastle. Jansen would then negotiate the player’s personal contract and would expect his commission from Newcastle.

  Keegan returned home and eventually decided to buy Les Ferdinand rather than Bergkamp. Goldberg sighed and recommenced his search for a buyer. To his glee, Doug Ellis, the chairman of Aston Villa, agreed to buy Bergkamp for £5.5 million but Bergkamp declared, ‘I don’t want to live in Birmingham.’ Goldberg sighed again and, in February 1995, telephoned David Dein: ‘Are you interested in Bergkamp?’ ‘Yes,’ replied Dein. Over the following two weeks, Goldberg negotiated and agreed the terms for Bergkamp’s transfer for £5.5 million with Ken Friar, Arsenal’s trusted managing director and ‘well known’ to Goldberg. The agent was certain that the deal was on the verge of completion when, at 4 p.m. on Friday 16 June 1995, Friar telephoned Goldberg. ‘I’m sorry,’ said Friar, ‘Arsenal are not going to buy Bergkamp.’ ‘Why?’ asked Goldberg. ‘Because we do not wish to break our wage structure. His salary is too expensive.’ ‘Is that final?’ the agent asked. ‘Yes,’ replied Friar. Further discussion, Goldberg understood, was pointless.

  The following Saturday morning, a journalist telephoned Goldberg and asked, ‘What’s Bergkamp doing at Arsenal?’ ‘I don’t know,’ replied Goldberg, ‘but he’s not going to sign for them. I spoke to Ken Friar only yesterday.’ ‘Well something’s going on,’ said the informant.

  Unknown to Goldberg, Rob Jansen, the player’s agent, had decided on his own initiative to find a London club for his client. He asked Jerome Anderson for help, who in turn telephoned Bruce Rioch, Arsenal’s manager. Specifically, Anderson denies discussing Bergkamp’s transfer with Dein, although in the usual course of events only Dein could have approved the transfer. Dein himself says, ‘I might well have spoken to Jerome but my negotiations were with Rob Jansen.’ The Dutch agent suggested that Dein speak to Count Gianmaria Visconti di Modrone, the club’s vice-president. In effect, the Italians had been backing two horses into Arsenal.

  Over the following three days Goldberg telephoned Dein and Friar. Unusually, neither man was available. On Wednesday 28 June, Arsenal announced the purchase of Bergkamp for £7.5 million, substantially more than the offer five days earlier. Sitting alongside the player during the presentation was Jerome Anderson, described as the player’s agent. Goldberg was surprised; until that moment, Jerome Anderson had never featured in Bergkamp’s career and had not featured in his negotiations. Clearly, both he and Jansen would receive a commission from Arsenal. Goldberg was, according to his own account, cut out of a deal which was worth £2 million more than during the previous months.

  Some weeks later, at an Arsenal shareholders’ meeting, Peter Hill-Wood was asked why Arsenal paid £7.5 million for Bergkamp if the original demand had been only £5.5 million? Before Hill-Wood could answer, Dein snatched the microphone: ‘I know you’re talking about Mel Goldberg. But a fee of £5.5 million was never mentioned. We’ve paid the proper price.’ Dein was embarrassed and outraged. ‘Goldberg could never deliver Bergkamp for £5.5 million,’ he protested. ‘Inter Milan would never have sold him for that price. They wanted £7.5 million.’ Dein added later, ‘I believe that £7.5 million, the agreed price, was very fair.’ Rob Jansen offers a different interpretation: ‘Milan did a good job getting more money from Arsenal. Dein should have been more sharp.’ Dein insists that agents like Goldberg often suggest low sums as an enticement but cannot deliver what they offer. Goldberg, a trustworthy lawyer, rejects that interpretation.

  Mel Goldberg was upset by David Dein’s behaviour, but he did not protest. The football world was small and annoying Dein, he decided, would be a self-inflicted wound. Rather, he would try again; he telephoned Dein. ‘Why don’t you consider Bixente Lizarazu?’ asked the agent in his precise language. ‘He’s an excellent defender and he also scores several valuable goals each season. He would be an ideal replacement for the ageing Winterburn.’ ‘No, I’m not interested,’ replied Dein. ‘He leaves too many gaps at the back.’ Days later, Goldberg heard that an Arsenal scout was visiting Bordeaux to watch Lizarazu play. Goldberg quickly telephoned Dein. ‘I tipped you off about Lizarazu,’ said Goldberg. ‘I’m not so sure,’ replied Dein. ‘So many agents have called. I need to check my records.’ Goldberg believed that Dein had never heard of Lizarazu until his call. The news Goldberg heard from Bordeaux was familiar – Jerome Anderson had become involved through a partner in France. Goldberg intervened and, using his influence, ensured that the player was sold to another club.

  The pattern appeared to Goldberg to be obvious. David Dein, he believed, had often favoured Jerome Anderson, a scenario vehemently denied by Dein. But rival agents interpreted the evidence to match their suspicions. Players transferred to the club by one agent were persuaded, they believed, to change their loyalties to Jerome Anderson. Years earlier, Charlie Nicholas, a Scottish striker playing for Arsenal, had also decided after a dispute to abandon Mel Goldberg as his agent and switch to Jerome Anderson. Other players had also changed agents in anticipation of or after their arrival at Arsenal to Jerome Anderson’s Sports Entertainment and Media. Among Anderson’s recruits were David Seaman, Ian Wright, Emmanuel Petit and Edu, a Brazilian midfielder. The most surprising recruit was Francis Jeffers, a 20-year-old rising star at Everton. Jeffers was persuaded that he would find his transfer to Arsenal easier if he switched to Jerome Anderson’s agency.

  In a fortunate coincidence, Anderson negotiated Arsenal’s purchase of Jeffers from Everton for £8 million, for some an unexpectedly high price, coinciding with the flotation of his agency on the stock exchange. One year later, Jeffers abandoned Anderson and appointed Paul Stretford as his agent. ‘Jeffers didn’t think the cosy relationship between you and Dein would help him,’ Stretford told Jerome Anderson on the telephone, a call which Anderson disputes. In any event, Anderson did not protest. He had become involved in an unpleasant argument with Jeffers’s father about money and he knew that the player’s future at Arsenal was uncertain. Above all, Anderson understood predators and one defeat did not undermine his self-promotion as the club’s unofficial agent representing among the club’s other stars Tony Adams and Thierry Henry. Of the forty-five players in Arsenal’s squad in 2001, he represented eight, more than any other agent. In 2001, his gross profits were £1.5 million on a turnover of £2.6 million. Football agents, he appreciated, conducted their business on unusual terms. Their clients, the players, were not always guaranteed the right to know their agent’s commission while working on their behalf. Transparency was not common in the football business, which had helped Anderson within a decade to become a wealthy man and identified as an agent who understood everyone’s requirements.

  Anderson certainly understood the needs of Arsenal’s footballers. They were young, ultra-fit men, idolized by the fans and countless girls, and earning more in a week than the average Briton in one year. With limited education and no financial experience, they were grateful to Anderson for his patience in caring about their homes, cars, electricity bills and even hairdressers. Above all, the agent provided soothing reassurance about their uncertain destiny with fame. On Saturday and Sunday nights, the agent received a stream of telephone calls from his players, anxious for sensible advice about their performance, their relationships with club officials and their prospects. In a fickle business flaunting physical fitness and emotional vulnerability, Anderson was a trusted friend, offering a round-the-clock babysitting service to men damned by some for the ‘fathomless void between their ears’.

  Similarly, Anderson was a reliable partner with foreign agents operating in England. In the transfer of Dmitri Kharine, a goalkeeper from CSKA Moscow to Chelsea in October 1992, Anderson had par
tnered two Russians agents. According to Robert Reid’s inquiry, the £400,000 commission for the agents was paid by Chelsea into Anderson’s account in London. Jerome Anderson had retransferred the first £200,000 to the Russians’ account in Jersey and handed over to the Russians a suitcase containing £175,000 in cash. He was allowed to keep £25,000 for himself.

  Anderson was an agent who understood how to satisfy his clients and the sentiment was mutual. ‘There are people in this industry,’ David Dein said during a Dow Jones conference on 23 April 2002 while Jerome Anderson sat smiling nearby, ‘who are not as honourable as you.’ Anderson, bearing a remarkable physical resemblance to his friend, unsurprisingly agreed: ‘It’s always visible who we are acting for. There’s never a conflict of interest.’ His uniquely close relationship with Arsenal, Anderson said, was ‘just an appearance’. Other agents enjoyed similar access, insisted the agent, although he was unable to name one other. Through his access, Anderson had also become the club’s representative for the players’ valuable ‘image rights’. Representing a club was less hazardous and more profitable than acting as the agent of players. There was always the guarantee of deals and acting for both a club and the players increased the profits.

  Jerome Anderson agreed to share his representation of Thierry Henry with Darren Dein. In order to further that cause, Anderson had invited Freddie Ljungberg, the Swedish midfielder, to his office in Finchley to discuss the player’s ‘image rights’. To Ljungberg’s surprise, Darren Dein was also present. Anderson suggested that the Swede allow the two Englishmen to negotiate his ‘rights’. Ljungberg was wary; his first contract was due to expire in eighteen months and negotiations for the renewal would soon start. ‘You know,’ said Ljungberg, ‘I’m very happy with my present agent, Vincenzo Morabito. I don’t think I want to change.’ Nothing more was said. Morabito and Jon Smith understood the challenge, so familiar to other agents in London.