How the ‘David Brents’ of football took over the Premier League… and what happens when it all goes wrong

There was something passive aggressive about the title ‘director of football’. The guy who sat above the manager and marked his homework. ‘Sporting director’ is far more sporting, you could say, and the influence and reach of the role has grown, but rarely do you meet a manager at peace with their presence.

‘Better the devil you know,’ said one Premier League boss, faced with the prospect of a change at his club. This, it should be noted, was one of the better working relationships.

But another one always arrives, pitchfork in hand. At least, that is how the manager – or, latterly, the head coach – sees it. The sporting director, to them, is not very sporting at all, not when they are the colleague who will, no doubt, one day fire them. The bond seldom evolves beyond a courtship of convenience. At some clubs, they are more like love rivals, vying for the affection of executives, staff, supporters and media.

There was a recent example at Newcastle, where Paul Mitchell and Eddie Howe spent a few weeks only communicating with each other through newspapers and television. They got off on the wrong foot when Mitchell put his own in his mouth during his first press interview, in which he labelled the club’s recruitment model ‘not fit for purpose’. Lead balloons have enjoyed more air time.

Sticking with Newcastle, I was the first journalist to interview Dennis Wise when, in 2008, he was appointed de facto director of football above manager Kevin Keegan. ‘I am here to help Kevin’ he insisted, a phrase Keegan later used in a constructive-dismissal tribunal to prove, successfully, that Wise was far more hindrance.

Managers are never overly comfortable with their presence and the relationship can be tricky

There was a recent example at Newcastle, where Paul Mitchell (left) and Eddie Howe (right) spent a few weeks only communicating with each other through newspapers and television

So, why do sporting directors exist? They do so at the behest of owners, not managers. They are, traditionally, seen as a buffer between dressing room and boardroom. Today, however, they have a remit that extends into just about every room in the stadium, as well as the training ground. In an ideal world, they will organise and steer. Their fingerprints should be everywhere, but not incriminatingly so. Football, though, will never be an ideal world.

Dan Ashworth talks about being the man at the centre of the wheel, connecting the spokes that represent the various departments of a football club. After his fine work at England and Brighton, Ashworth’s name became a byword for slick, executive competence.

Every club wanted and needed a Dan Ashworth. Here is a man who will lend your club credibility and influence. The emperor’s wardrobe suddenly included an expensive suit.

Mythical status can emerge, such as the one that had Ashworth as a recruitment genius. He is not, but those at the end of the spoke might be. Newcastle and then Manchester United have fought hard to get Ashworth in recent years, and when Mail Sport revealed he had inadvertently sent an email to his Newcastle account revealing clandestine talks with United – alerting his employers – it was proof that these guys are human after all.

Indeed, we have heard that United co-owner Sir Jim Ratcliffe is now furious with Ashworth and Sir Dave Brailsford (on the subject of myths) for insisting they stuck with Erik ten Hag in the summer.

The more exposure the role gets, the more exposed sporting directors become. Today, they are seen and heard. You see them before a head coach is sacked, gloomy faced in the directors’ box, and you’ll hear them when the new boss is appointed, happily talking of vision, strategy and projects. David Brent does football often springs to mind.

That is not to say there have not been and currently are some excellent sporting directors in this country, but maybe the Premier League is still striving to truly capture the cachet of the role on the continent, its original birthplace.

In Italy, Ariedo Braida is considered the godfather of the position, first operating as a sporting director at Monza in 1981- when Ashworth was 10-years-old – and later becoming the first director to hold that title at Milan.

David Pleat, in his new autobiography ‘Just One More Goal’, explores the subject in fascinating depth.

‘The position of director of football is one of the most misunderstood in the English game,’ he begins an entire chapter dedicated to it. ‘Sometimes, it is seen as a sinecure for a former manager or a conduit between the boardroom and the dugout. It should be one of the three most pivotal roles at a club. Instead, it is dismissed too often as a foreign invention, alien to the game.’

Dan Ashworth is a high profile sporting director and every club has wanted a figure like him

They are seen and heard, whether that be sacking a manager or presenting a new signing

David Pleat, in his new book ‘Just One More Goal’, explored the subject in fascinating depth

Pleat tells a story of some of the early scepticism that still lingers in England.

‘I recall phoning Harry Redknapp when he was director of football at Portsmouth in 2001,’ he begins. ‘I asked him what he was doing? The answer was: “Very little. What type of job is this?” He said he was supposed to be the eyes and ears of the chairman, Milan Mandaric, but added that his principal job seemed to be chauffeuring him. “It’s a hopeless position,” he said. “A waste of time.” I told him: “You could make this the most satisfying job in the world. You can arrange the strategy of the club, organise its recruitment, the academy and the training ground. You could influence the whole future of the club”.’

The argument Pleat makes has been progressively adhered to by Premier League owners – 75 per cent of whom are now majority overseas – and sporting directors are being given a key to the kingdom, if not the full set. That is said to be one of the reasons Ashworth decided to quit Newcastle after less than two years, because his control was not what he had expected. His replacement, Mitchell, is predominantly recruitment focused. So, to assume that all clubs have adopted the expanse of what Pleat believes to be necessary, would be wrong.

Take Everton, where they got through three directors of football in just over six years. Marcel Brands, a respected Dutchman, spent three years banging his head against the old brickwork of Goodison Park.

Owner Farhad Moshiri appointed Rafa Benitez as manager despite him not featuring in the top five of Brands’ shortlist. When Benitez was unveiled, Brands was asked to sit alongside the new boss and said he would rather not. He quit soon after.

Steve Walsh, another who grew folkloric status for his recruitment at Leicester, lasted only two years at Everton. Kevin Thelwell now holds the position and, as one source says, ‘he not half likes the sound of his own voice’. At least he is attempting to communicate on a more regular basis than others, who perhaps realise that the legend is best protected by existing in the shadows.

But the model doesn’t always work, evidenced by Everton, who got through three in just over six years, while Marcel Brands chose not to sit alongside Rafael Benitez at his unveiling 

Yet Jurgen Klopp worked well with sporting director Michael Edwards (left) while at Liverpool

But across Stanley Park at Liverpool, the sporting director model has worked. There were disagreements but, on the whole, Jurgen Klopp bought into the recruitment strategy overseen by Michael Edwards, whose departure in 2022 destabilised the club.

Edwards returned this year with Richard Hughes as sporting director, and between them they have restored the confidence of supporters in the hierarchy. The loss of Klopp has been cushioned as much by them as it has by new boss Arne Slot.

Edwards, interestingly, started his working life as an IT teacher and was hired as a computer technician by Redknapp at Portsmouth – maybe Redknapp took on board what Pleat advised after all – and has risen to become one of the most influential men in football. It was at Pompey, while working out of a Portakabin, that Edwards met Hughes, a midfielder whose career was dogged by injury.

The pair are major players with a network of contacts, whereas some of their counterparts are more arm candy for the ownership. West Ham’s Mark Noble performs a vital role as a comfort blanket for fans, but he is not going to unearth a left back from the Slovenian second division.

The club have technical director Tim Steidten for that, known as ‘Tidy Steidy’ in recruitment circles for his attention to detail. But he was banned from the dressing room by David Moyes after the manager insisted on ‘boundaries’. That was the word Howe used when sending a message to Mitchell, via the media.

Sporting directors are in the news this week after the surprise departure of Edu from Arsenal. His relationship with Mikel Arteta was good and, despite being a not-so-common example of a sporting director who was also a top player, he is said to have conducted himself with a charm that was appealing to players, fans and directors alike. As the club tried to close a loan deal for Raheem Sterling in August, Edu ordered pizzas for all those involved given how late it ran.

Arteta trusted Edu, especially as the Brazilian put aside his own preference to keep Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang and instead backed the manager by banishing him to Barcelona in 2022. Transfers – in and out – are invariably where the tension exists.

When Aston Villa appointed the world-renowned transfer guru Monchi as president of football operations (the title continues to evolve) it was rare, in that head coach Unai Emery had a major say in his arrival. It would appear the pair come as a package and one is unlikely to outstay the other.

The fallout surrounding Edu’s departure from Arsenal shows how important they have become

Edu enjoyed a positive relationship with Mikel Arteta which isn’t always the common way

That was never the intention of the sporting director role. They are supposed to hire, fire and be a beacon of longevity. Externally, they liaise and negotiate with agents, rival clubs and forge long-term relationships.

Internally, they are across budgets and succession plans. They have access to all the secrets. That is why Howe wanted Ashworth out the door as soon as it was known he was planning to defect to Old Trafford.

So fashionable has it become to have a sporting director of significant repute, the market for their movement is more fluid now. They are stars in their own right, objects of desire.

But with that comes ego and, from the dugout, suspicion and mistrust. It does not matter what title they go by, you see, managers will never really embrace and enjoy them.