Wembley, 28th February 2010. The final whistle goes and Villa lose the League Cup final. We’re seventh in the table, but four points behind fourth-placed Spurs with two games in hand and an FA Cup quarter-final the following weekend. Seems a lifetime ago doesn’t it? Yet it was less than three years. That defeat was painful, but it marked the start of the decline to where we find ourselves now, third from bottom and facing an uphill battle to retain the Premier League status we take for granted. The momentum built up by Martin O’Neill and Randy Lerner seemed to vanish with that defeat; the realisation that for all the investment and hard work, Villa were destined to be another nearly team. What’s happened since has been a catalogue of errors, naive mismanagement and bad luck. So what went wrong, and how do we rescue this horrible season? It’s hard to step back and take a logical, impartial look. But we need to see how it happened, and how it can be fixed. The most common accusation is that Randy hasn’t invested enough to make us competitive. Yet under O’Neill, net spend was around £82 million on transfers alone. Since then, although we’ve sold Downing, Young and Milner we’ve also signed Bent, Makoun, N’Zogbia, Given and Benteke while recouping virtually nothing. When added to the colossal wages still being paid, one thing Randy cannot be blamed for is not wanting to invest more money. Even the most optimistic would say we’re no better than when he started, so how has this happened? Basically, the club has been mismanaged – look at the managers we’ve had, and how they’ve run the club. Lerner’s first, and biggest, mistake was to allow the club to be run to the whims of Martin O’Neill. Few complained about it at the time but, in hindsight, O’Neill wasted our best shot of the modern era. Take the transfer fees and contracts for players subsequently allowed to leave for virtually nothing. Meanwhile, Gary Cahill and Craig Gardner, two players we could do with now, went cheaply. When Lerner eventually demanded O’Neill curbed his spending, he left us in the lurch and with no contingency plan. He did transform the club, bringing a level of success unlikely to be surpassed for a long time and most fans will look back at the O’Neill era very fondly. But O’Neill’s departure undoubtedly burned Lerner, and it’s easy to see now why Gerard Houllier then appealed. It was clear that a different approach was needed, one that didn’t rely on spending huge amounts. Here was an experienced manager, with knowledge of the global game, who would establish the worldwide scouting networks, strong youth policy and tactical flexibility missing under O’Neill. Houllier’s problem was trying to inflict too much change too quickly; his reign was marred by infighting and dissent from players and supporters. Performances and results started to improve, but his health caused him to leave the club. Again, Lerner had backed his man (£30 million in less than 12 months) and again, he was left looking for a new manager. With the benefit of hindsight, the board took account of the tensions of Houllier’s tenure and tried to rectify them by appointing a manager more in tune with the senior players, although it’s also clear that any manager who took charge then would have to improve the club without significant backing. Alex McLeish may have been the only candidate

When I was a lad a billion was a million million, but it’s only a thousand million now. Despite this devaluation Premier League boss Richard Scudamore must be delighted with the billions-worth of TV rights he negotiated for the next three seasons. What’s more, Sky now have serious competition from BT so he’ll be rubbing his hands at the prospect of a future bidding war. Scudamore’s got used to hammering out ever-bigger deals during the Premier League years. The first deal, in 1992, was for £304 million over five years, or £61 million per season. The total value of this deal is around £5.5 billion over three years, or £1.8 billion per season - almost thirty times more than the first. Not bad for a time of austerity. So who will get all this money? According to www.sportingintelligence.com, Premier League TV money is divided more equally among the clubs than in most other European leagues, with a ratio of around 1.5:1 between top and bottom. In Italy the ratio is about 10 to 1, in France it’s about 3.5 to 1, and in Germany 2 to 1. In Spain, Barcelona and Real Madrid do their own TV deals and don’t share the cash, so the ratio is about 14 to 1 and causes a great deal of bad feeling. With the Premier League champions due to get about £90 million, Villa are in line for around £60 million. Let’s hope we don’t concede too many corners before the end of the season because that could be a lot of dosh we won’t be seeing.

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On the subject of money, and this is entirely theoretical, becaus

Our recent defeat against Newcastle, heroic as it may have been, was not unexpected. Even though the Toon’s recent record is as dismal as ours, they have always been difficult opponents and, as history shows, no game against them can be taken for granted. I first saw them in 1960, just after we had returned to the top flight. Joe Mercer had made important new signings who helped Villa to gain promotion at the first attempt, and three played in this game: Jimmy McEwan, Bobby Thompson and John Neal. Harry Burrows, one of the first of Mercer’s Minors, stood in for Peter McParland on the left wing. The goals in a 2-0 home win were scored by Vic Crowe and Ron Wylie, who a decade later would be managing the club together. The season marked an important stage in Villa’s revival and by the end of the campaign we had achieved a creditable ninth position, while Newcastle suffered relegation for only the second time in their history. Newcastle, with Wolves, had been one of the teams of the 1950s, but their last trophy, unless you count the Fairs Cup, was an FA Cup win in 1955. Apart from their exciting adventures under Kevin Keegan in the early 1990’s, the past half century has largely been a period of stagnation and decline, and the erratic rule of Mike Ashley and bizarre managerial appointments have frequently turned a proud club into the butt of jokes. During the farcical attempt to rename the stadium, it was suggested that Ashley had settled on Ashley Sports Direct Arena, or ASDA for short. Newcastle’s ground is, in fact, one of the country’s great stadiums and despite the ridiculous location of the away seating up in the clouds, a visit to St James’s Park is always a special occasion. In recent years, however, our fortunes there have been mixed. In August 2010 it was the scene of one of the heaviest defeats I have ever experienced. The background was that a year earlier we had beaten Newcastle at Villa Park in the last game of the season, a result which relegated them. The jubilant mocking by the Villa fans had hurt deeply, and Newcastle were out for revenge. Before the game that seemed unlikely. Newcastle had just been heavily defeated by Manchester United and Villa’s uninhibited performance against West Ham in Kevin McDonald’s first game had promised great things for the post-O’Neill era. Over prematch drinks my Geordie friends said they’d settle for a draw and I was confident of a Villa win. Nobody could have predicted the 6-0 humiliation, made worse by a John Carew penalty blazed feet over the bar before Newcastle had scored. Needless to say, the Toon army savoured its revenge.

On the piste
La Plagne
Courchevel
Wengen
Trafford Park
Tamworth

These days, you gotta keep your head down. There s so much surveillance what with undercover spotters and CCTV that kicking off inside the ground s a waste of time. That s why we have to be a bit clever, like, when looking for it. The way it was the other week we went in their main stand on the lookout for their boys. They reckoned they d be forty-handed. We sent the spotters in and all they could see was this bloke from a ZZ Top tribute band and a long-haired Daniel Craig lookalike. Anyway, we thought better keep our heads down and see what was happening. I got this skinny bird to sit next to and some lad from our youth firm came up by me. I ve seen him before and he looks like he s going to be the part when he s a bit bigger. He was just standing there trying to let on to me when I clocked this lad from their juniors moving in. Sweet as, our boy was up on his toes and right in. No pavement dancing, no messing, just bang and the yokel was on the deck. After that we thought it might come on top with OB but they wasn t around so we sat down and looked like we was just interested in the match. The fella with the beard turned round a couple of times and when I asked him what he thought he was looking at he was all no offence like, you remind me of someone. He was a right muppet but in fairness to him I get told that a lot. It must be all those hooligan books and the TV documentaries that do it. I ve been asked to go on them and I always said no because I don t want the attention but it seems everywhere we go now there s still always somebody with a camera or wanting a selfie. Gives you the right hump it does. My brother reckons we should charge for every time somebody wants a photo with us, but he always was a flash monkey. Anyway, once that kid took a slap all the others vanished and for the rest of the match we could do what we wanted. Nobody said a word when the goals went in and at half time we went under the stand. We thought it might get a bit moody under there but we walked all over, bold as you like. We even went in the boardroom and that Delia off the telly was in there with that posh bloke who does the quiz programmes. I could see they was worried but a couple of the lads who came in with me had a word and they were all over us. Then in the second half nobody came near. It happens all the time; we turn up and the other mob want to know. Even the OB let us go where we like. That little lad though, I can see him taking over from me one day.