We Don't Know What We're Doing
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Published August 2007 by Little, Brown)
This was the face they said was perfect for radio, yet this is now the face we most want to see presenting anything reality based that doesn’t involve a thong (I’m guessing Gavin Peacock doesn’t sport one, though I’ve witnessed one or two of his performances that would make you wonder).
So how did this face for radio end up becoming the face of ‘every-fan’ and end up writing a book which goes a long way to explaining who we are and why we put ourselves through this (mostly) miserable experience?
Adrian Chiles, lovable, podgy-faced TV and Radio presenter is now an almost omni-present figure. Some would say that too much exposure to any personality inevitably leads to a wearying of our tolerance, and Chiles is pushing the envelope. It feels like every time you turn on the Radio you’ll hear his mellifluous brummie tones advising you about your tax returns or failing that you’ll get too much detail about his prowess in the kitchen from his Radio 5live presenter wife Jane Garvey. They’re like the Posh and Becks of the IKEA generation. I even switched on the radio in the early hours once and he was chuntering on about his belief in God!
His role as the gentle interrogator and investigator in the after-episode Apprentice show has probably made Chiles the household name he is today, but I suspect for most of you who will read this, it’s his landing of the football fan’s dream job that we both venerate and envy him for.
The decimation of the weekend’s football programme by the television companies is both hotly debated and widely criticised, but it did one thing for sure, it made Saturday night’s Match of the Day half the programme it was (I take it you mean in the “quite literal” sense due to the rescheduling of games, rather than that being a criticism of Gary and the boys – then again… - Cynical Ed).
So the BBC, in their wisdom, decided a second programme of highlights was needed. As the Saturday games would be looked at again it was felt that a less-po-faced, Hansenesque approach was needed. The key would be the presenter, or in the beginning at least, presenters.
In the tradition of great double acts, the BBC went for amiable big bloke with a funny (if a bit sharp) little bloke and paired Chiles with the then out of work Gordon Strachan. This could’ve been a happy accident or someone may well have known what he or she was doing, because it was genius.
The Saturday night show is fronted by a scientific and engineering marvel, a life-size replica of Saint Gary Lineker, programmed to wear slightly racy work shirts, tan constantly and learn all the rules of presenting then repeat them parrot fashion. If the tabloids are to be believed the real Lineker now spends his waking hours stalking glamour models and fashioning txt-liaisons…
Robo-Gary indulges in ‘banter’ with Captain Black AKA Alan Hansen, a dour Scot whose only qualifications appear to be a decent golf game and the frequent use of the phrase ‘luffffffft Puggg’; and Alan Shearer, whose incoherent drone is largely explained by the constant mantra being repeated in his head…’chicken and beans, chicken and beans’…try it next time he starts speaking, it explains a lot. The line up is often completed by Mark Lawrenson, who looks a bit like a seventies sit-com lothario whose head is deflating, though most of the time he gets to sit next to John Motson and throw in dry wit to confuse the hopefully soon to be retired sheepskin clad geek.
Thus Match of the Day 2 couldn’t fail, but the real surprise was Chiles. This must be any football fan’s ideal career, even if they’d have to one day work with Neil Warnock. It’s rare that a professional displays the kind of enthusiasm the viewer feels. Chiles went further, rather than feeding Strachan with gentle lobs for the feisty rapier to skewer, he began to be funny himself…funnier actually. After the first season, Strachan left, albeit to manage Celtic, but I can’t help but think that the decision was made easier by his increasingly number two status.
The BBC won the televisual battle of the World Cup hands down, ITV’s broom cupboard of Ally McCoist and Andy Townsend couldn’t compete with the beeb’s safe hands and no amount of Ian Wright was going to change anything. I’m sure that they thought they we’re going for the kill by employing Nigel Havers to pretend to be Brazilian ace Leonardo, but again, they were missing the real star.
Chiles got nothing better to anchor than Portugal against Angola, but it was worth suffering the game for the half-time analysis. If the game was dire, he told you so. His relaxed style made footballers speak outside their usual comfort zone; I didn’t hear anyone begin a sentence ‘obviously…’
‘Obviously…you’d like to know more about the book…’…quite right too!
Chiles supports West Bromwich Albion, who apart from a ‘Big Ron’ inspired hey day in the seventies haven’t had a lot to shout about until recently turning themselves into what we like to call a ‘yo-yo’ club…this means they haven’t quite got enough money to stay in the Premiership.
This isn’t your usual celebrity football book, there’s a little bit of meeting famous folk in it, Frank Skinner obviously, but Chiles wants to find out about the affinity he feels with the thousands of anonymous people who, like him, are not concentrating on their careers or family or getting the car serviced or whatever they are supposed to be doing…they’re thinking about their football club.
He nails what it is to be a football fan in the first paragraph of the first chapter:
“Summer ends for me on the first of August because it’s August when the football season starts. I can never understand those fans that miss football during the close season. If you ache for the season to start then you can’t be much of a fan. If you are truly passionate about your club, if it really does rule your life, you will have loved each precious football-free day of summer. And you’ll mourn the coming of the new season and the trauma it’s sure to bring.”
From there on Chiles charts the Baggies’ 2005-6 season in the Premiership, one destined for despair. It’s a traditional ‘story of a season’, game by game, but it’s a perfect backdrop to a series of encounters with a remarkable cast of characters. Disparate, desperate, but in the hands of the affable Chiles they become familiar to all of us who have turned to a complete stranger on a miserable November afternoon and shared a silent moment of understanding.
I’m sure Chiles would have loved to end the season and book with a dramatic last game thriller to mirror the prologue, but this was never to be. For all but the top few the Premiership now is about financial survival rather than on the field glory. The players with their Baby Bentley lifestyles have little in common with the fans and the clubs now talk of ‘customers’ and ‘audience’ as they seek to maximise the yield they extract from what used to be known as the supporter. When a twelfth place is seen as a buoyant season you have to wonder whether it’s worth being there.
So West Brom return to what is currently called the Championship, where sixth is a real achievement. They have two seasons to climb back up and have a crack at that coveted state…survival.
Wherever they go, Chiles will be there and thousands will be with him. Whether you care for his team or not you’ll know what he’s talking about. For all bar that the minority of fans who have an all-consuming dislike of everything that isn’t their team or their beliefs, this will be a journey you’ll recognise. Chiles is the bloke you meet at a motorway services, both of you decked in the shiny nylon of your team’s colours, you’ll exchange a nod of recognition, maybe even a ‘how did you get on’. Whatever the response may be and however you are feeling at the time, you know what they are going through and you know your turn is coming.
We Don’t Know What We’re Doing probably won’t win any prizes, it won’t lead to a life enhancing understanding of your fellow man and it won’t stop West Brom from yo-yoing between the divisions. But it will make you smile and the next time you take your cracked plastic seat with its knee shattering lack of leg room, you’ll probably look at the half familiar faces around you and wonder what their story is…
…then one of them will say something stupid!