by Michael Cox
His leadership qualities were obvious from an early age. He was, amazingly, offered the Millwall manager’s job as a 28-year-old player, refusing the offer because he felt he was too young. George Graham was appointed instead and, while the two quickly fell out, Allardyce learned from the Scot’s defensive drills. Intriguingly, early in his coaching career at Preston Allardyce also worked under John Beck, probably the most blatant follower of Hughes’s methods – here was a man who brought in statisticians to educate players on how few passes were needed to score goals and who ordered his groundsman to keep the grass unmown near the corner flags so that long balls into wide areas would stay in play. Players resented his incredibly strict instructions about knocking the ball into certain zones, but Beck had enjoyed great success with Cambridge, taking them from the fourth tier to the play-offs of the second tier in under three seasons, nearly following Watford and Wimbledon’s rise. He was less successful at Preston, however, and Allardyce hated working with him, rebuking his ‘brain-dead’ football. But while Allardyce’s style was more refined, he was considered the modern, Premier League equivalent of Beck.
From the outset Allardyce cast himself as an outsider in the Premier League, refusing to follow the template set by continental rivals. ‘I have never seen myself being offered a job by a top Premiership club for the simple reason that I’m not high-profile enough and I don’t speak with a foreign accent,’ he complained as early as 2000, a year before Bolton’s promotion. This would become a familiar theme, although it felt somewhat premature considering that only four Premier League sides – admittedly including three of the top five – employed a foreign manager at this stage. He wound up high-profile managers deliberately, almost as a pantomime villain, but Allardyce was clearly frustrated by his depiction. ‘A lot of the job today is about how you hold and portray yourself, about how people perceive you to be, not how you are,’ he would later complain. ‘Unfortunately I cannot help the way I were born and the way I look.’ Allardyce suffers badly from dyslexia, admitting he struggles to write, and he’s an extremely slow reader, but believes he compensates with excellent listening skills, remembering aural information instantly.
Beyond the brash persona, Allardyce was a genuinely innovative manager; only Arsène Wenger did more to evolve the Premier League behind the scenes during the Premier League’s first decade. Wenger was so progressive because he’d spent time in Japan, which was behind the times in a footballing sense but ahead of the game in terms of physical preparation. Similarly, Allardyce’s forward-thinking approach came from an unlikely source: American football.
During the summer of 1983 Allardyce enjoyed a brief spell in the North American Soccer League, playing 11 games for the Tampa Bay Rowdies. Although the football itself was of a relatively low standard, the side’s physical preparation was light years ahead of anything witnessed in England, because the Rowdies shared facilities and backroom staff with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. The soccer players stayed in a complex alongside the NFL players, used their training ground and home stadium, and were completely attuned to the demands and procedures of a physiologically advanced sport. ‘The way they prepared during the week opened my eyes and was one of those life-changing experiences,’ Allardyce said. ‘I learned there was so much more to conditioning than what we did in England; their attention to detail for every player was staggering.’
Allardyce was amazed by the mobile scanners to check immediately for injuries, the presence of masseurs, nutritionists and psychiatrists, as well as the great emphasis upon statisticians and analysts. This was all completely alien to English football, and while it would be some years before Allardyce became a manager, his American experience was crucial – when in charge of Notts County in the late 1990s he regarded his most important signing as a new physio. More than anything, it broadened his horizons, encouraging him to follow developments in other sports to search for innovations. At Bolton, Allardyce employed Dave Alred, the coach who had turned Jonny Wilkinson into rugby union’s outstanding kicker, with the fly-half almost single-handedly (or perhaps that should be double-footedly, considering that Alred’s methods made Wilkinson ambidextrous, an extremely rare quality in that sport) winning the Rugby World Cup for England in 2003. Allardyce later met both Billy Beane, who revolutionised baseball with his ‘moneyball’ statistical approach, and Dave Brailsford, who transformed British cycling through his philosophy of ‘marginal gains’.
At Bolton, where Allardyce was handed a ten-year contract to encourage long-term thinking, he expanded his backroom team to the point where there were more coaching staff than players, which was extremely unusual at this stage, especially for a club of Bolton’s modest stature. When awarded an honorary doctorate by the University of Bolton, a satisfying moment for a keen learner who struggled academically because of his dyslexia, Allardyce remarked upon his pride at ‘what we achieved at Bolton, and the work I did to bring in a “team behind the team”’.
There were also developments in terms of diet and physiology: the increased use of energy drinks and electrolytes, of dieticians and physiologists. He particularly cared about statistics involving recovery time. On Boxing Day 2003 Bolton travelled to Liverpool, going 2–0 down after 47 minutes. Allardyce reacted by immediately withdrawing his best three players: Youri Djorkaeff, Jay-Jay Okocha and Iván Campo, in the knowledge that Bolton had a game two days later against Leicester. He knew two full matches in such a short space of time was impossible for players of their age, so effectively gave up on the match at Anfield and concentrated on the winnable game – although Bolton would only draw 2–2 against the Foxes.
But while Wenger was the true revolutionary in terms of introducing scientific methods into the English game, Allardyce brought in more specific footballing innovations. Allardyce was, quite literally, seeing the game from a different perspective; rather than standing in the technical area and bellowing instructions, the accepted practice, Allardyce sat high in the stands to afford himself the best possible view of the tactical battle, and any changes were communicated via radio to his assistants in the dugout. It’s peculiar that more managers haven’t copied this practice, although Allardyce has since reverted to sitting in the dugout, feeling his presence on the touchline – and in the ear of the fourth official – is valuable.
When Sir Alex Ferguson visited Allardyce’s office at the Reebok Stadium for the customary post-match glass of wine he was stunned to discover how many ‘boffins’ were sitting behind computers, pouring over statistics. Numbers were a crucial part of Allardyce’s approach; he provided his players with pre-season targets in terms of clean sheets and goals from each department of the side, and was an early adopter of ProZone, advanced statistical software that allowed him to analyse players and matches in depth. In the dressing room at half-time, Allardyce would screen video clips from the opening 45 minutes to illustrate his instructions.
His analytics staff created statistical profiles for individual positions in Bolton’s side, discovering precisely what would be required from, for example, a right-back. Allardyce then used this information to convert players into different roles, in the knowledge they were capable of the appropriate statistical output. This became something of a specialism; he converted strikers Henrik Pedersen and Kevin Davies to left-back and right-midfield respectively, shifted Ricardo Gardner from left-wing to left-back, and played traditional centre-backs Iván Campo and Fernando Hierro as ball-playing midfielders. Allardyce examined statistics concerning dead-ball situations, working out precisely where his players should position themselves. It was a new spin on that old cliché of ‘percentage football’.
Sometimes Allardyce went against the statistics; the purchase of Campo was unpopular among his analytics team but proved a success, while towards the end of 2003/04 his improvised policy of allowing the squad four days off after every victory enraged his sports-science team but helped Bolton win five consecutive games. He studied the stats but wasn’t a slave to them.
The most
fascinating part of Allardyce’s statistical obsession was building the ‘War Room’ at Bolton’s training ground. Inside, Allardyce and his confidants would surround themselves with plasma screens displaying charts on players’ fitness levels and statistics on pass completion, distance covered, number of sprints, tackles and interceptions. It proved vital for both tactical preparation and physical conditioning, with Allardyce excellent at resting players before they suffered serious injury. And while other Premier League clubs were employing similar methods, Allardyce believed that Bolton’s was the most advanced set-up in Europe. Much of the credit goes to Mike Forde, Allardyce’s performance director at the club, who became so revered he was poached by Chelsea, and then worked as a consultant in cycling, the NBA and, most significantly, the NFL. Allardyce had taken inspiration from the NFL – now, an NFL team was taking inspiration from his old performance director.
However, these were all behind-the-scenes features. Supporters didn’t see the War Room or Allardyce’s statistical models, they simply observed what happened on the pitch, and while Allardyce was unquestionably an innovator in some respects, he prescribed a style of football that was distinctly old-fashioned. The concept of playing out from the back was alien to Bolton, with goalkeeper Jussi Jääskeläinen booting huge balls down towards the strikers and every free-kick being launched into the opposition penalty box. Long throw-ins were frequently used, Allardyce having set Bolton’s pitch size to the minimum allowed under the regulations, which made the throws more dangerous and hampered the opposition’s ability to play passing football.
The player who most epitomised Bolton during this period was Kevin Nolan, initially an average centre-back in Bolton’s academy whom Allardyce wasn’t convinced would make it as a professional because he ‘couldn’t head or tackle’. Nolan was redeployed as a midfielder and became a useful goalscoring weapon, purely on account of his incredible ability to reach the ‘second ball’, latching onto flick-ons and knock-downs to convert from close range. And that was what Bolton’s game was all about – for their first couple of seasons in the Premier League they were brilliant at the simple, Sunday league concept of second balls.
After their flying start in the Premier League, Bolton struggled in their debut campaign, flirting with relegation and only surviving thanks to a sudden upturn in form during the spring. The signings of two international attackers proved crucial; German striker Fredi Bobic arrived on loan and scored a hat-trick against Ipswich in April, but more important was the man Allardyce considers his all-time best signing: Youri Djorkaeff, the brilliant creative forward who contributed heavily to France’s World Cup and European Championships successes. Allardyce ignored his disciplinary problems at former club Kaiserslautern. ‘I’m not worried about Youri’s character and the reputation he has from his time in Germany,’ he said upon his signing. ‘I have always enjoyed signing players who have had a bad reputation or have been disruptive elsewhere because I find them a challenge. I’m a good judge of character.’ This would prove to be the first in a succession of similar signings – foreign, technical, experienced, risky.
Allardyce offered an intriguing explanation for favouring experienced players, outlining that he could examine years’ worth of ProZone data so he knew exactly what players would do when he played them. Experience is often considered in relation to a player’s knowledge, but Allardyce considered it in relation to his knowledge of a player. He jokingly referred to Djorkaeff as the club’s ‘worldwide ambassador’ because his arrival put Bolton on the map, and the Trotters were later blessed with the trickery of Okocha, the most gifted African playmaker of his generation and an entertaining showboater, as well as the guile of Hierro and Campo, who provided Spanish passing quality some years before it became so revered. Allardyce took a chance on speedy wide forward El-Hadji Diouf, who had proved incredibly unpopular at Liverpool, and was rewarded with some fine performances. His man-management skills were excellent; Diouf referred to Allardyce as ‘Dad’ for the trust he’d placed in him, and Allardyce later rescued the similarly difficult Nicolas Anelka from Turkey, rejuvenating the Frenchman’s career and doubling his money when selling him on to Chelsea, where he won the Golden Boot.
There were some flops, however. Mário Jardel, astonishingly prolific in Portugal, couldn’t get himself in shape and was moved on, while Hidetoshi Nakata, the first big-name Japanese footballer, was more style than substance and retired from football at 29 after a quiet season at the Reebok. But these players were generally signed for free on short-term contracts, and the successes outweighed the flops. Allardyce’s main policy when signing a player was simply concentrating on his strengths and ensuring he constantly found himself in situations to demonstrate them, which might sound simple, but in a period when progressive managers were encouraging their defenders to start the attacking – and their attackers to start the defending – Allardyce’s back-to-basics approach proved popular with veterans who had become frustrated by being handed unfamiliar duties at bigger clubs.
Finishes of 16th and 17th in Bolton’s first two Premier League seasons satisfied their natural target, survival, but they subsequently came 8th, 6th, 8th and 7th, the only club aside from the ‘Big Four’ of Arsenal, Chelsea, Liverpool and Manchester United to finish in the top half in all four seasons, a considerable achievement. In 2004/05 Bolton finished level on points with that season’s Champions League winners, Liverpool, qualifying for Europe for the first time in their history. Two years later, in 2006/07, they were third at the turn of the year and appeared set to challenge for the Champions League places.
Bolton improved not only by increasing their number of technical players but also by perfecting their direct-approach play. This was partly inspired by a switch to a 4–5–1 formation, previously used by Allardyce as an occasional alternative to his 4–4–2 but which became his first-choice system at the start of 2003/04. He would often crowbar in a second striker by deploying him out wide, a trademark of the aforementioned route one ideologues Taylor and Olsen. This gave Bolton two aerial targets as well as a numerical advantage in central midfield, at a time when few sides had switched to a one-striker formation. It’s peculiar that Bolton, a side unashamedly uninterested in the midfield possession battle, were an early adopter of 4–5–1.
Despite his route one approach, Allardyce hadn’t been able to count upon a proper target man in those first two seasons spent battling relegation. Michael Ricketts, who made a tremendous impact in his first half-season, possessed the requisite physique but preferred to run in behind. He frustrated Allardyce with his lack of professionalism, while Henrik Pedersen worked hard but wasn’t particularly effective at winning aerial balls. So, in 2003, Allardyce picked up Kevin Davies on a free transfer, and if Nolan had previously been Bolton’s defining player because of his ability to win second balls, Davies became their main man because of his ability to win first balls. He was a classic Allardyce signing – a talented forward who had once cost Blackburn a club record fee but who seemingly found himself on the scrapheap after a couple of poor campaigns, starting only once in his final season at Southampton.
Davies arrived at Bolton’s pre-season training camp a stone overweight and was immediately put on a strict fitness regime that included the Atkins diet. As Davies later recalled, a concerned Allardyce called Davies into his hotel room one evening, telling the striker he had a reputation for not looking after himself and that he was nicknamed ‘the Budweiser King’, even though Allardyce, while imploring the striker to change his ways, was sitting on his bed in a dressing gown, smoking a cigar and drinking red wine. He referred to Davies and other unfit players as ‘the Fat Club’, sending them on 70km morning bike rides in the mountains, but upon their return they’d find him tucking into a full English breakfast. The contrast with Wenger, who followed the same diet as his players to set an example, sums up Allardyce’s contradictory character.
The fitness regime clearly worked, however. In his first season at Bolton Davies started all
38 league matches – sometimes up front, sometimes wide-right – and eventually spent a decade at the club. He was never prolific, averaging eight goals a season, but was excellent at battling for aerial balls despite being only six foot tall, relatively short for a Premier League target man. Davies would regularly end campaigns as the Premier League player who had both suffered – and committed – the most fouls, with almost all the offences committed when battling for high balls. He essentially turned matches into a stop-start scrap based around dead-ball situations, which suited Bolton perfectly. Allardyce wasn’t remotely concerned with ball possession, much more with ball position. The initial route into Davies was rudimentary, but he was nodding the ball down towards some of the Premier League’s most exciting footballers, initially the likes of Djorkaeff and Okocha, then later Diouf and Anelka. With veteran Gary Speed a dependable midfield operator and Euro 2004 winner Stelios Giannakopoulos excellent at arriving in goal-scoring positions unmarked, Bolton had the perfect blend of technical players to provide moments of magic and straightforward footballers who helped Bolton play direct and occasionally upset the big boys.
Allardyce was always trying to gain an advantage over opponents. In 2003/04, after the offside law had been tweaked slightly so ‘inactive’ players in an offside position could play an active part in an attacking move after they’d retreated into an onside position, Bolton changed their free-kick strategy. Allardyce ordered two players to stand in offside positions, not attempting to win the first ball, but dropping back into the goalmouth scramble to latch on to the second ball. Allardyce’s reasoning was that their runs originated from a position where defenders wouldn’t be able to mark them. It was a tactic most notably deployed at Leicester; Nolan, inevitably one of the ‘passive offside’ players, hit the post from a second ball, then Bolton equalised when Foxes goalkeeper Ian Walker was distracted by the offside Nolan, fumbling a Davies attempt over his own goal line. Allardyce, however, vehemently opposed the new interpretation. ‘I think they have got it wrong. There is nothing I can do about it apart from try use it to my advantage,’ he said. ‘I don’t like it, I don’t think it adds anything to the game whatsoever … it caused some confusion and gave us some good opportunities.’ Leicester manager Micky Adams was similarly dismissive. ‘How can anyone say players are not interfering with play when they are running across the keeper’s eye line?’
