Clough's perfect timing

Brian Clough with his assistant and 'mate' Peter Taylor after Nottingham Forest won the European Cup in 1979 

Pic: Sporting Pictures/Rex Features

You often hear that timing is everything in sport. Difficult to define and reportedly even harder to coach, timing is what makes the difference between a cricket shot that races to the boundary off the meat of the bat or an edge to first slip; the difference between a run that beats the offside trap and one that has the referee calling you back having seen the linesman’s flag go up; the difference between a golf shot that lands up on the fairway and one that’s sliced into the rough. And in every case, we’re talking about fractions of a second that make the difference between the exceptional and the very, very ordinary.

But timing also matters in a historical sense. Reading Duncan Hamilton’s award-winning account of Brian Clough’s time as manager of Nottingham Forest, Provided You Don’t Kiss Me, I was struck by the extent to which Clough was a man who, despite his undeniable managerial qualities, benefitted from great timing.

Clough, of course, took both Derby and Nottingham Forest from the Second Division (today's Championship) to the First Division title (today's Premier League) and into Europe. He made it as far as the semi-finals in Europe with Derby but it was the back-to-back European Cups Clough won  with Forest in 1979 and 1980 that cemented his status as a managerial genius.

However, according to Hamilton, by the time of his final season in charge of Forest in 1992/93, “Clough didn’t understand, or chose to ignore, the new realities of a game which by this time was embracing the nascent demands of the Premiership”.

By then, even Clough seemed to accept that, despite the possibility of future glory, his time had probably come and gone. Clough told Hamilton about a month before his resignation: “You never give up hope. You think about the Championship, you think about another European Cup. I don’t know how many great teams one manager can create in a lifetime. Two? Three at most?  The thing is, though, you never stop trying. It’s like an actor wanting to win another Oscar, a mountaineer who wants another crack at scaling Everest. I’m like that.”

Malcolm Gladwell, in his book Outliers, has written of the advantages bestowed upon both junior ice hockey players and footballers based on seemingly arbitrary age-group cut-offs. He suggests that players born in certain months may be more likely to succeed based on the month in which they were born as it could give them a developmental advantage over those born later within the same age grouping. The developmental difference between two players, one who is 12 years and a few days and one who is 12 years and eleven-and-a-half months, can be quite significant. Gladwell argues that such differences can set off chains of events, say if the older, more developed player gets selected for junior representative teams and gets exposed to better coaching and facilities, that give them a much greater chance of excelling or turning pro in their chosen sport irrespective of their talent relative to the younger player.

An excellent actor requires not just the right role in the right film but also the right time to win an Oscar as such decisions are not made in a vacuum and are subject to the fashions of the day which dictate what is and is not acceptable. To what extent then are our perceptions of sporting greatness also defined and determined by what may appear to be historical accident?

For whatever reason whenever I think of the epitome of sporting greatness, Michael Jordan comes to mind. And while it’s tempting to think that an athlete like Jordan, whose determination and quasi-psychopathic competitiveness are well-documented, would have succeeded in any era through his sheer ability to exert his will in any given situation, to do so is to overlook some of the other factors that contributed to his aura. Coming through at the end of the Larry Bird and Magic Johnson era gave Jordan some (admittedly declining) rivals against which to test himself. At the same time after Bird and Johnson retired the NBA lacked a superstar to capture the imagination. The rise of cable and, more significantly, the rise of Nike as a marketing colossus with Jordan as a figurehead, not to mention the change in Olympic rules that allowed Jordan (and other professionals) to compete (and win gold) for the ‘Dream Team’ at the 1992 Barcelona Olympics, all contributed significantly to how Jordan is remembered today.

 Titles obviously contribute to perceptions of greatness but are also largely subject to timing. Teams that win titles are often remembered retrospectively as great irrespective of the merits of the individual components, or for that matter, the competition. England seem to go into every major international football tournament (or at least those for which they qualify) with high expectations only to be disappointed when the team fails to live up to the standards of the group that won the World Cup in 1966. The 1966 team was undoubtedly one of very high quality, but timing is still required to bring the individual components together and have them peak at the right time. Similarly, the 2011 All Blacks will now be remembered as great.

It is also tempting to spare a thought for those on the cusp of greatness who were arguably denied it by poor timing. Marty Holah, an exceptional open side flanker, had the misfortune of playing in New Zealand at the same time as Richie McCaw, when in another era he could well have won 100 caps for the All Blacks and be remembered equally fondly.

A lot of this tends to suggest that sporting greatness comes down to luck - either good or bad - more so than timing, but that denies the skill in the execution. Luck may provide the opportunity, but there is a skill in exploiting it. Timing is where opportunity and execution overlap and that is what makes it such a prized asset in sport.

So, don’t get me wrong. None of this is to take away from any of Clough’s achievements or legacy. Clough certainly benefitted from meeting Peter Taylor when he did, having his playing career cut short by injury and existing in an era where managers could exert almost total domination over a football club. His eccentricities, arrogance and relationship with the press were tolerated in the 70s and 80s but would have held Clough back today.

Hamilton concludes: “It is inconceivable that another Brian Clough could ever emerge from the swamp of banknotes that is modern football.”

He adds: “The question of whether Clough would have been as successful  in today’s football is easily answered – he would not.”

And so, he may not, even if he had been around, have been the right person to manage Aston Villa in 2011 but don’t let that detract from his legacy.

If timing is everything in sport, Clough had it in abundance.