Daniel Levys defiance leaves Spurs a work in progress

Rory Smith, The Times

July 29 2013 12:07PM

Deep in the bowels of the Santiago Bernabeu, a force is being readied. Blacksmiths sharpen swords, farriers shoe horses, and wives and daughters and mothers issue tear-stained goodbyes to their husbands and fathers and sons. With nothing more than their wits, their courage, and allegedly the tacit financial support of the Spanish government, these brave souls must sally forth from their concrete fortress, and dare to confront the greatest foe of all. No better squadron could have been mustered. No better men could have been gathered for this noble mission. Florentino Perez, the leader, 56 in his Cuban heels, pockets bulging with 50 Euro notes and the economic rights to Angel di Maria. Zinedine Zidane, his trusted consigliere, brooding, monastic presence. And Ernesto Bronzetti, the Italian super-agent who everyone thinks is a super-agent because he continually claims to be in public but actually he probably isnt. These are the men who must journey deep, once more, into hostile territory. These are the men who must climb mountains and ford rivers and get the ferry at Calais if the Eurostar is booked up. These are the men who must pick their way up the Victoria line, forever watched by the bright, burning eye. These are the men who must steel their hearts and gird their loins and do board-room battle with Daniel Levy, the Sauron of the Seven Sisters Road. Everyone in football has a role to play. That is the effect of the games mutation from harmless pastime into the nations most popular, least realistic soap-opera. Wayne Rooneys story arc, for example, has been rich and textured: the boy-next-door made

good; the fall from grace; the fame and wealth going to his head; the hubristic denouement, where he loses all his friends. We can only presume that his Damascene moment that soap staple will arrive at the age of 32, when he returns to Everton and discovers he should never have left in the first place. Jose Mourinho, of course, is the seductive, twinkly-eyed charmer, always keeping another iron in the fire, always wondering where his next opportunity is going to come from. He is, basically, a salt-and-pepper haired Paul Robinson, the entrepreneur-lothario so expertly drawn by Stefan Dennis in Neighbours; Under the Bridge, Chelseas on-site nightclub, essentially functions as a proxy Lassiters.

Levy, though, has landed an absolute plum of a part. The Tottenham Hotspur chairman is a sort of mix between Sir Alan Sugar the one in The Apprentice, not the one who used to run Tottenham and Deborah Meaden, with a dash of Jabba the Hutt thrown in. He is the ferocious negotiator, the hard-nosed businessman, the master of the transfer market, the King of the Dragons. He is a man whose reputation is so powerful that, in the narrative accompanying Real Madrids 86 million bid for Gareth Bale, the Spanish side look, if not quite the good guys, then at least the underdogs. This is some doing, given Reals previous on these matters, how public Jonathan Barnett, Bales agent, has been on the subject and the fact that Marca, Reals willing puppet, have been dropping hints and preparing the ground for the best part of two months. That Levy is seen in such a way says a lot about football. When it comes down to it, Levy is just a sensible, competent businessman. He likes to buy low and sell high; he is aware that, regardless of how many headlines there are or how many shirts Zidane has printed off or how much Barnett mewls and hisses, the selling club in a transfer is always in the strongest position.

Footballers are better regarded not as employees though some might say they should be, and as such entitled to do what they want, when they want, for who they want, much like the rest of us but as assets. In a transfer, one club possesses an asset somebody else desires. In most industries, that leads to a process of negotiation before a mutually agreeable price is set. If no compromise can be reached, then the buying party does not succeed in its purchase. The car or the factory or the shop does not agitate for a move. Levy simply applies this logic to football. If someone wants something he owns, they have to pay for it, and at a level that he deems fitting. If they refuse, then he keeps hold of that asset. He knows, deep down, that the number of players who will go on strike and actively refuse to play is miniscule. That this approach is so rare is testament not so much to Levys business acumen, but to how badly football is run, how in thrall to players most clubs are, how knee-jerk decisions can be, and how much power has consolidated in the hands of agents. Levy should not be the exception, he should be the rule. If Liverpool do not want to sell Luis Suarez, then they shouldnt. If Manchester United think Rooney is behaving like a spoiled child, then sit him down and tell him that he is not for sale, and that if he doesnt shape up, he will not be playing regular football. Its a World Cup year, after all. Even with the paucity of talent available to Roy Hodgson, its impossible to think he would play Rooney in Brazil next year if England make it without any competitive action under his particularly capacious belt. That is not to say that Levy is perfect, that everyone should seek to ape his methods, though. Far from it. There is no question that, from a financial point of view, Levys tenure at White Hart Lane his own personal Mount Doom has been a wondrous success. If football was about finance, then he would have a number of awards sitting on his mantelpiece. Happily, it is not. And sadly for Spurs, they have no awards, anywhere, at this point. For all Levys work, they are not even in the Champions League. This is the downside of the character he plays. Yes, Levy is wonderful at extracting value from his assets the sales of Dimitar Berbatov, Luka Modric, Robbie Keane, Peter Crouch, Wilson Palacios and many others would attest to that but too often his hard-line negotiating stance means departures drag on too long in the summer. Rafael van der Vaart left on transfer deadline day last summer; it was not until Lewis Holtby arrived in January that Spurs could be said to have replaced him. Financially, that makes sense. In footballing terms, though, it contributes to the sensation that Spurs can never quite make that final leap, competing not just with Arsenal for fourth place and the chance to be eliminated in the last 16 of the Champions League, but going toe-to-toe with both Manchester clubs and Chelsea for the title. Levys determination not to waste a penny means his side are always, by definition, a work in progress: there is always someone to replace, something that needs fixing.

He may resist Reals overtures for Bale, of course (though turning down 60 million plus Di Maria is so pig-headed as to be foolish; Bale is better than the Argentine, but not by that much), and the Welshman may well stay. History tells us that more likely is Levy holding on until the end of August, eking every last cent from Perez, before Bale departs with the window about to shut. Another triumph for the transfer market Sauron; another set-back for Spurs.