A Football Fling: Could Oxford United Really Steal the Heart of a Manchester City Fanatic?

By Steve Mingle

When Steve Mingle's financial services company was pulled out of the hat as shirt sponsor at League Two Oxford United in 2013, it sparked a crazy period for the fanatical soccer follower—for as well as becoming closely involved with the U's, Steve is also a long-standing Manchester City season-ticket holder. Frequently faced with the emotional torment of trying to be in two places at once, A Football Fling tells the story of two hectic seasons spent following teams at opposite ends of the spectrum—from Accrington to Anfield, from Burton to Barcelona, from Mansfield to Munich. Having been granted complete behind-the-scenes access at Oxford, Steve compares every aspect of his two clubs—players, management, finances, engagement with the local community, media interaction, youth development—to provide a unique insight into how soccer really operates—and whether having your company name on a team's shirts can be good for business!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Independent Publishers Group
• Release date: Sep 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781785311093

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June/July 2013

ABIT of background. We’re a two-man business, set up in 2007, and our main activity is to advise companies on pensions and pay. You wouldn’t call it exhilarating. But we’ve made a decent fist of it, and are proud of what we’ve achieved. It certainly beats working for a big company, which is what both of us did for many years before taking the plunge and doing our own thing.

Pensions is not an industry notable for generating raw excitement for those of us unfortunate enough to work in it, so we keep ourselves sane by indulging in a few alternative activities, notably running corporate events – quizzes, gameshow nights, team-building days and the like. We enjoy doing this so much that we’re in the process of setting up a separate company specifically to provide this service. We’ve worked together on and off, mostly on, for the last 13 years, and are quite definitely mates first, business partners second. We’re both football fanatics. I’ve been a Manchester City season ticket holder for donkeys’ years, at last getting some kind of compensation for the decades of pain, suffering and ridicule. Which naturally means that I loathe and detest Manchester United.

Funnily enough, Paul happens to be a Manchester United fan. He’s a typically intermittent season ticket holder, a self-confessed glory-hunter, picking and choosing his seasons according to how well he thinks they’ll do. Somehow, our divergent allegiances have never damaged our personal or professional relationship, even if people who don’t know us too well might occasionally think otherwise. The flow of insults and abuse between us is pretty much relentless.

The day after we win the draw, Paul’s invited into the Club for a photoshoot and to discuss marketing options. We immediately get plenty of coverage in the Oxford Mail and on the club website. And Paul is presented with a hastily assembled brochure detailing the range of advertising and promotional opportunities, and their associated costs. You can feel his enthusiasm bursting through the e-mail on my laptop screen. He’s had a fantastic day, they’ve treated him as if we’d paid the full whack for the sponsorship deal rather than just being the jammy winners of a £1,000-entry fee raffle. I’m having a great break in France, but can’t wait to get back and become immersed in it all.

We meet up a few days later and look through the options. Pitch-side advertising hoardings, concourse ads, Oxford Mail flyers, e-mail campaigns to some 35,000 folk on the club’s contact list, website ads, match programme advertising. There’s a temptation to go for the lot, to enjoy the sight of Isinglass Consulting here there and everywhere. But we need to keep our business heads on. What we offer is pensions advice to companies. Out of the 5,000 or so folk who regularly attend Oxford’s home games, how many of them will be in a position to commission our alleged expertise? Quite possibly zero. Most certainly very few. But there might be some potential buyers on the club’s list of contacts.

We need to make a basic decision. Do we just stick with the shirt sponsorship and enjoy it while it lasts or do we really go for it, work closely with the Club and make a concerted effort to take advantage of our luck? Can we realistically expect to reach people who are genuinely interested in what we have to offer? Do we have the time to commit to making the effort?

We decide to go for it. We were never going to do anything else. Let’s get stuck in and see where it takes us. We go for the advertising hoardings, the concourse ads and the website banners. Hoardings for the general name awareness, and the kick of seeing our logo in a prominent place at home games and on TV highlights. The concourse ads will enable us to provide a bit more detail about exactly what we do, and we know we’ll be capable of putting together some eye-catching stuff. We’ll position the ads in a mix of locations between the stands and the corporate entertainment areas. And in order to provide maximum reach in generating name-awareness, we go for the website banner.

There’s plenty of scope to look at other options as the season rolls on, but we’ve already put our stake in the ground. We really want to work with the Club and get actively involved in how we promote ourselves. And, inevitably, we’ll become Oxford United fans. I’ve always taken an interest in other teams as well as City – in particular following my local non-league team wherever I live, currently the mighty Magpies, Maidenhead United – so it won’t feel too strange to have another team to support. Getting to matches won’t always be easy, but Sky’s frequent rescheduling of City games should create plenty of opportunities for weekend double-headers – Oxford on Saturday, City on Sunday. And with so many more league games to fit in down in League 2, there should be a good few midweek games as well. Things should be a bit easier for Paul, as his prescient disapproval of David Moyes’s appointment means that this will be a year where he gives up his season ticket, so he’ll have unlimited opportunities to see our new team. And hopefully he’ll see the light and be converted for life.

* * * * *

The first big question is what the shirt will look like. The colours and style have already been decided – in conjunction with Nike, no less – and we’re shown the design, in strictest confidence. We both think it’s a belter. It’s purple with a vertical white stripe down the left, and a counterbalancing white stripe on the opposite sleeve. It’s highly distinctive, and all we need to do is agree on how our logo will look. Our corporate colours are black and magenta, which won’t stand out too well on a purple background. Do we want the logo to straddle the white stripe, allowing us to use a bigger font, or just stay on the purple?

We look at mock-ups of various options, and eventually are persuaded to compromise our branding slightly and go for a pure white logo on the purple, for maximum visibility, especially on TV. It looks really classy, we love it, but we’re sworn to secrecy about the colours until the official kit release date.

The season’s fixtures come out a few days later, and the first game’s probably the biggest of the lot – away at Portsmouth. We’re disappointed, because neither of us will be able to make it – Paul’s on holiday and I’ll be at the Old Trafford Ashes Test. But with Pompey playing in blue, it’s pretty unlikely that our kit will be on show. Indeed, with most teams’ home colours featuring either red or blue, it might not get worn by the team all that often. But when it does, we’ll be trying our level best to be there.

Paul gets a call to say that the away kit will be officially launched at the pre-season friendly at home to Coventry City. We can have a box for the day, and, if we get to the ground early, they’ll give us a tour behind the scenes, so we can meet the players, manager and backroom staff. And they’ll invite us on to the pitch at half-time for an interview. And we’ll get to choose Oxford’s man of the match. Not bad for starters.

I check my diary. Bugger it. I’m supposed to be on holiday in France until the following day. But there’s no way I’m missing this, and I reschedule the Eurotunnel crossing for first thing Saturday morning. Lindsey, my other half, is in total agreement. Any mention of an executive box and she’s like a rat up a drainpipe. You can take the girl out of Liverpool…

* * * * *

Kit launch day is approaching, and there’s work to be done. If we’re going to be interviewed, we need to make it look as though we know a bit about the Club. I’m not exactly starting from a position of strength. I couldn’t name any current Oxford players. Not a single one. I’ve never even been to their stadium, the Kassam, though I did visit the Manor Ground back in the late 80s to see City grab an incredible and crucial victory on the way to promotion. We were 2-0 down at half-time, one of them scored by City old-boy Paul Simpson, before three goals in five minutes at the start of the second half set us up for a 4-2 win. Those were very different times – it was two weeks after Hillsborough, away fans were locked in cages, Margaret Thatcher was hell-bent on driving the game underground and you’d think twice before confessing in polite company to being a football fan.

Other than memories of games against City, I suppose I know a little bit about their past – winning the League Cup in the mid-80s, inflicting defeat on United in Ferguson’s first game, top players like Saunders, Aldridge and Houghton. Big Ron’s original stamping ground. Kevin Brock’s backpass saving Kendall’s job at Everton. For some reason, the centre-back pairing of Shotton and Briggs has always stayed in my mind. And, of course, Robert Maxwell.

So, while we won’t be Oxford’s first connection with the pensions industry, at least we’re a bloody sight more trustworthy than the previous one.

I venture on to the club website and fans’ forums, and start mugging up. They finished ninth last year, not far from the play-offs. The manager’s called Chris Wilder. Never heard of him. Sounds like he took a bit of stick from fans last year, but he’ll hardly be alone in that. They’ve made lots of new signings over the summer, including 30-something striker Dave Kitson, who I remember from his days at Reading and Sheffield United. He’s spent most of his career in the top two divisions and scored plenty. Wilder apparently reckons he’s the one he really wanted, the guy who’ll make a serious difference, not just with his own performances, but also by passing his experience on to younger colleagues. The general consensus is that the squad should be strong enough to mount a concerted promotion push.

Paul’s also been doing his homework, although he’s a step ahead of me before he even starts. As a community partner of the club, Stonesfield Strikers had a day out at the Kassam last season, and some of the kids formed a guard of honour for the players before watching the game. His son Ollie, ten at the time, was among them and his verdict on the team was unequivocal, ‘Absolute rubbish!’ His cruel father has brutally and mercilessly coerced him into becoming a Manchester United supporter, and the inevitable glory-hunting mindset is already forming in his young brain. He’s a real nice lad, polite and talented, but destined to spend most of his formative years being bullied, tormented and ridiculed, all because of his dad’s mindless selfishness. I often wonder whether I should tip off the Child Protection Agency.

Having swotted up, and hopefully armed with enough knowledge to muddle through, we make our way back from France first thing on Saturday morning. A quick pit-stop in Maidenhead and then it’s off to the Kassam to find our designated parking space, before meeting up with Paul, Claire and the kids, Ollie and Lily, all set for a fun day out.

We’re greeted by the club’s new marketing director, Tony Davison. Three things about him are immediately apparent. One, he’s a north-easterner; two, he’s got a genuine enthusiasm for the Club and his job; and three, I’ve met him somewhere before. Not one of those ‘you really look like someone I know’, but a definite ‘we’ve spent some proper time together’. He says that I look familiar as well. We talk about our job histories and where our paths might have crossed, but neither of us can come up with anything definitive. Short-odds favourite is that we were both lashed-up at some conference hotel bar in the early hours of the morning, talking complete bollocks.

Tony’s clearly determined to make sure that we don’t just have a great time today, but that we also make the most of the opportunity that our raffle win has given us. He shows us the conference facilities inside the ground, and says he’ll set us up with a platform to talk to other local businesses. All the raffle entrants are being invited to hospitality at future home games, and will be getting together in a suite before the match. He’ll give us the chance to meet and make a small presentation to them each time. And he’ll be organising other get-togethers for local businesses during the season.

Tony then introduces us to the business development manager, Peter Rhoades-Brown. There’s no question about where I’ve seen him before. I remember him from his playing days with Chelsea and Oxford, and he’s barely changed, scarcely heavier than his playing weight. Likeable, affable, full of patter, but without being over the top, he’s obviously done this plenty of times before. He knows the place and the people in it like the back of his hand, and there’s banter with everyone we meet. He’s known universally as Rosie, and clearly very much part of the furniture.

Rosie introduces us to Chris Wilder, who looks a bit preoccupied but is perfectly polite, and we wish him well for the season ahead. We bump into a couple of particularly lively blokes, and there are a few shared in-jokes between them and Rosie. It transpires that they’re the guys who parade about as the club mascots, Olly and Olivia the Ox, and it sounds as though they might have a tale or two to tell. For now, though, their adoring public awaits and they need to transform themselves into their bovine alter-egos.

We get shown into a little cubby hole, the domain of Martin Brodetsky, the club’s programme editor. It’s an award-winning offering, of which he’s clearly and justifiably proud, and we’re delighted to see pictures of players wearing the brand new Isinglass shirt adorning the cover. And a freebie full-page ad for the business inside. Nice gesture. Nice people. We can already see that there’s a real family feel about the place.

Rosie needs to get off to meet and greet elsewhere, and we’re put back into Tony’s capable hands. I’m still racking my brains as to where we’ve met before, but put this on hold as he takes us into the dressing room to meet the players. The first thing we notice are the shirts on the hangers. They look absolutely fantastic. This shirt is going to sell and sell – if only we got royalties…

There’s plenty of chat already going on, but the players are all respectful and polite as Tony tells them who we are. We ask what they think of the kit, and they make enthusiastic noises. But then they’re hardly likely to say, ‘it’s fucking shit’, are they? We’re introduced to Jake Wright, the club captain, who’s very amenable and carries an unmistakeable air of quiet authority. Even without ever having seen him kick a ball, you can tell he’s the right man for the job. Claire and Lindsey get an eyeful more than they bargained for, as one of the guys decides to nip into the shower. They’re certainly not a self-conscious lot.

I get talking to Deane Smalley – ‘Deano’ – who’s particularly friendly and chatty, and seems genuinely interested in what we do and how we came to be shirt sponsors. He’s a Manc, and recognises my accent, but the others drag me away before we can get into the inevitable Red or Blue discussion and the grief which might ensue. He seems far too good a bloke to be a Red, but sometimes you never can tell…

We wish them all well for the coming season and are struck by the strong sense of camaraderie. Rosie reckons it’s a really close-knit group, with the best team spirit seen here for many a year. They were hauled off to boot camp at the start of pre-season, and it’s proved to be a beneficial exercise, both in terms of bonding and physical conditioning. Of course, there’s bound to be a mood of pre-season optimism at every club – supporters have a hope springs eternal mentality, so why shouldn’t the players – but the prevailing sense here is one of belief rather than mere hope.

Tony presents us with an ‘Isinglass’ shirt, with ‘Ruffles 37’ on the back. It transpires that it’s the only spare, and even that’s available only because it’s got a misspelt name on the back. Josh Ruffels is, apparently, a highly-promising youngster for whom the Club have very high hopes. We’re glad of his unusual name – the mistake gives us something to pose about with when we get on to the pitch. And now he’ll automatically be a player we’ll be looking out for throughout the season. The initial kit production hasn’t quite gone as planned, and the team will be the only ones wearing our shirts today. There’ll be a delay until the kit’s available in the club shop. Still, one shirt is all we need to take advantage of the copious photo opportunities, and we’re like a pair of overexcited overgrown schoolkids as we pose with the shirt in the manager’s dugout, in front of the stands and in the players’ tunnel.

We’re given the teamsheets, and are surprised and disappointed to see that Dave Kitson won’t be featuring. We ask Rosie if he’s got a knock. He doesn’t think so, it’s more that he’s being saved for next week’s big opener at Pompey. He’s 33, so energy conservation is of paramount importance. Rosie says that Deano’s been fulsome in his praise of the new man, describing him as awesome in training, and that he’s already learned a hell of a lot. By the sound of it, just what Chris Wilder was hoping for.

It’s getting towards kick-off time now, and Tony takes us back up towards our box. On the way there we meet one of the girls who sells the tickets for the half-time draw, and he butters her up nicely, saying that not many clubs have got Miss England semi-finalists selling their draw tickets. He introduces us, and asks her whether she likes the new away shirt. ‘Yeah, it’s nice, a bit different,’ she says. ‘Wear football shirts a lot, do you?’ he asks, giving me a sly wink. I just about keep a straight face as his gentle suggestiveness goes completely over her head. ‘Not really, though I have got a Chelsea shirt.’ Let’s hope David Mellor’s not in the crowd.

We’re shown into our box, perfectly placed on the halfway line. We’ve ordered sandwiches, and they’re wheeled in along with a year’s supply of crisps and nuts. It’s not exactly haute cuisine, but we certainly won’t be going hungry. A cursory inspection of the fillings reveals that we now have the chance to become members of the prawn sandwich brigade, and I waste no time in shovelling a couple down. It’s been a lifelong ambition. Roy Keane now officially hates me. Result.

The only word I can find to describe the stadium is weird. Three sides of the pitch are flanked by modern stands, but they all look as though they should have been made a few yards wider, and there are massive gaps by the corner flags between them. And, at the other end, one long and not very tall wooden fence is all that separates the pitch from the spacious car park behind the goal. It looks like a simple case of running out of money, but we’re told that the story’s a bit more complicated than that. It doesn’t sound as though Mr Kassam is too highly regarded around these parts. No doubt we’ll find out more as the season unfolds.

We take our seats at the front of the box, and the teams soon emerge, allowing the home faithful a first sight of the new away kit. Well, some of the home faithful. The crowd’s not exactly getting close to a full house, and we can’t help but feel a bit disappointed. Maybe 1,500 at the most? Oxford have sold their full allocation of 2,500 tickets for the game at Pompey, so they have obviously got a strong fanbase. But it looks as though most of it’s on holiday today.

Ollie and Lily are mascots for the day, and Claire goes down pitchside to get some snaps. After they shake hands with all and sundry, Olly the Ox challenges them to a race back to the touchline. It’s a closely fought affair, which culminates in Lily slipping on the heavily sprinklered pristine new turf, falling unceremoniously on to her bum and dissolving into tears. It’s hard not to laugh, and Paul and I don’t make much effort. But a few comforting words from mum, a handful of crisps, and a promise of a treat after the game are all it takes for her to forget the pain.

The game’s pretty competitive for a friendly, as players look to nail down a starting place for when the serious action begins. Deano looks good, decent in the air and holding the ball up well, but doesn’t get any chances to build on his impressive pre-season scoring run. At the back, Jake looks composed, assured and completely in control. A real leader. We’re watching proceedings intently, constantly consulting our teamsheets as we try to learn who’s who, and we slowly start to piece things together.

As half-time approaches, Tony ushers us down towards the players’ tunnel in preparation for our pitchside interview. We’ve already been briefed as to what we’re going to be asked: why did you enter the draw, why do you want to be associated with Oxford United, tell us a bit about your business, and what do you think are the U’s prospects for the season ahead? We’ve joked about trying to get as many appalling clichés into our responses as possible, but decide to show some respect and play it straight.

The Man With The Mike introduces us to the crowd, and we detect the faintest ripple of applause. Probably just Claire and Lindsey. He asks Paul why we entered the draw, and he talks about being impressed by what an innovative idea it was, and how we’ll be a really good fit for them, as we’re pretty inventive and creative ourselves. I end up being asked about Oxford’s prospects for the year ahead, and say there’s no reason why they – sorry, we – can’t do a Bradford – get to a Wembley final and win promotion via the play-offs. Wearing the Isinglass kit, of course. I say how impressed I was with the pre-season signings, and observe that they’ve now got a great blend of youth and experience – aaarghh! – and should be all set for a tremendous season. MWTM sticks rigidly to the script, moving swiftly on to the next scheduled question rather than looking to build on our answers, and the reason soon becomes apparent. The half-time draw waits for no man.

As MWTM thanks us for our contribution, and wishes us well, the draw girls come towards the mike, armed with their black 50-50 bucket containing the ticket stubs from today’s entrants. Half the proceeds from the sales go to the Club, and half to the winner of the draw. Paul is called back to pick out the winning ticket, and makes some lucky punter richer to the tune of £214. It’s normally about a grand, we’re told. Which is certainly better than a kick in the teeth. And, if you’re really, really lucky, just enough to get your name on the front of Oxford United’s shirts…

* * * * *

There’s time for us and the shirt to pose for a quick photo with crowd favourite Alfie Potter before we head back to our box. Claire and Lindsey say that they could hardly hear anything either of us said, as it appears MWTM didn’t get the mike close enough to us for it to pick up our words of wisdom. At least this explains the muted crowd response, they’d have been rolling in the aisles otherwise.

Tony reminds us that we need to pay attention in the second half, as we’ll be asked to nominate Oxford’s man of the match. Quite a challenge as we still haven’t got a clue who most of their players are. There are lots of half-time substitutions, one of which sees United legend James Constable – closing in on the 107 goal tally needed to become their all-time leading scorer – take the place of Deano. Within a minute he makes his mark, picking up a loose ball and turning to fire a 20-yard left-footer low into the corner. We’re all out of our seats to celebrate the new kit’s first goal. The rest of the half remains competitive, albeit punctuated by a multitude of further substitutions as both sides look to give a run-out to as many players as possible. One of ours is young Ruffels, who looks classy and composed on the ball, with a nice range of passing in his armoury. As full-time approaches, we’re asked to make our man of the match decision.

Ollie wants to go for Constable, swayed as are so many by the fact that he scored the goal. I say that I’m not voting for anyone whose name has got police connotations. Tony says not to worry about that, the world and his wife know him as ‘Beano’. ‘Why’s that?’ ‘Because he’s got a head shaped like a bean.’ I peer out towards him and ponder. Baked bean? Broad bean? Butter bean? Coffee bean? Runner bean? Can’t see it myself. I favour Ruffels, but Tony says we oughtn’t to choose someone just because they’ve got a silly name. It’s not that silly, and I have been genuinely impressed, but I suppose he’s only had half an hour or so on the pitch. Lindsey favours Deano, on the grounds that he seemed the nicest and chattiest bloke. There’s feminine logic for you.

Eventually Paul and I decide that we’ve got to go for someone who’s played most if not all of the 90 minutes – which narrows the field down significantly – and we plump for defender Johnny Mullins. He’s looked solid throughout and is one of the close-season signings, although not strictly a new one as he’d spent much of last season here on loan anyway.

Tony reckons it’s a decent choice, and the applause greeting the announcement – ‘Man