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’Digger’ Barnes dreams of a Jamaican uprising
Carlos Amato Published:Oct 05, 2008
Sowing the seed: John Barnes turns the first sod at the Albert Johanneson Legacy Park site in Soweto. The community sports complex, to be completed late next year, is backed by football conventions firm Soccerex
’Jamaica, like many African countries, have to lose that feeling of being second-class’
“Tell me, do they call the Italian national team ‘The Pasta Boys’?” asks John Barnes, new coach of Jamaica, through a mouthful of honey-glazed chicken.
“No,” I reply.
“No, they don’t!” he says. “So we’re not going to be The Reggae Boyz any more. Because it makes us a novelty football team. I don’t like novelties.
“All the nickname ‘Reggae Boyz’ tells you is: they dance, they have fun, they lose and they go home. I don’t like that. I don’t like that at all,” barks Barnes, making short work of an unsuspecting serviette. “And suppose we don’t even like reggae?”
[DweetSweet note: Baxside! A wha dis faada? Seems like change is on the way....}
The Liverpool great is an ambassador for Soccerex, the football business convention, and he’s here to turn the first sod at the Albert Johanneson Legacy Park, a sports centre the company is funding in Mapetla, Soweto.
But he’s mentally half way to Kingston when I gatecrash his lunch break in Sandton. Three days before we meet, Barnes got a call from Jamaica that ended with him agreeing to coach the island of his birth, without clapping eyes on a contract.
And it’s been eight years since his only previous coaching venture. One foul February night at Parkhead in 2000, his Celtic side fell 3-1 to Inverness Caledonian Thistle.
Cue the immortal headline: “Super Caley Go Ballistic, Celtic Are Atrocious”. Barnes was duly fired, seven months after he’d been head-hunted by old Anfield mucker Kenny Dalglish, then Celtic’s director of football.
“You have to know the people you’re working for,” recalls Barnes. “Kenny wanted me, but people higher up didn’t. Which was fine, but it meant I had to win every game. We won 11 of our first 12 matches, but I knew if we lost a few, the club’s lack of togetherness would count. And of course, Henrik Larsson broke his leg and never played for me again.”
English glamour boys are marked men in Glasgow at the best of times: it was always going to end in tears.
Since then, Barnes has undergone a tempestuous divorce and remarried, had two children (he has six in all) and worked in broadcasting. He has a mix of directness, articulacy and charm that’s rare in football media, but it’s all been a means to an end.
Barnes, nicknamed “Digger” after the Dallas character in his Anfield days, competed on Strictly Come Dancing last year, winning top marks for a salsa despite his hefty midriff.
“For the last eight years I’ve been in the media solely so football people don’t forget about me,” he says. “So that when an opportunity comes along, I am linked with it.”
The son of army colonel Ken Barnes and TV presenter Jean, he was 13 when he crossed the water in 1976, and his vowels still have Kingston curves. Like any thinking migrant, he scorns knee- jerk patriotism.
“When I go to Jamaica I feel 100% Jamaican,” he says. “When I’m in England I feel 100% English. People always accused me of not giving 100% for England, because I was born in Jamaica, which was absolute rubbish.”
It’s a sore point for Barnes, who did not consistently replicate his Anfield brilliance in 79 England appearances. It all began well: his first England goal, a solo masterpiece, came in a 2-0 win over Brazil at the Maracana in 1984. On the flight home, some neo-fascist England fans sang about a 1-0 victory, since the Barnes strike “didn’t count”.
A storming substitute appearance against Argentina at the 1986 World Cup — he made one goal and nearly an equaliser — didn’t sway the skinheads. At Italia ’90, in his prime, he missed the knockout rounds due to injury.
Will Barnes get a third stab at World Cup glory? Jamaica are on the brink of elimination from 2010, and must play Mexico and Honduras before he takes charge in November.
“Jamaica, like many African countries, have to lose that feeling of being second- class,” says Barnes. “The model to use is Liverpool in Istanbul — 3-0 down at halftime to a superior team, and they came back. Can you imagine an African team in the same situation coming back? It has nothing to do with ability, everything to do with togetherness and desire.
“And that’s what the big African teams need to achieve. Because whenever they reach the World Cup quarters, and they go 1-0 down, they fall to pieces.”
It’s a bracingly tough assessment, and Barnes is itching to whip a team into shape — but his aspirations have been delayed. Paul Ince’s appointment at Blackburn was the first of a black English coach by a Premiership club — but the real prejudice is in the proving grounds of the lower leagues, says Barnes.
“In football, these things change through crazes,” he says. “Arsene Wenger was successful, therefore so are all French managers. Rafa Benitez is good, therefore so are all Spanish managers. So if one black coach is successful, then black coaches will be in vogue. Which is ridiculous. Just because Paul Ince is good doesn’t mean another black coach is good! Unfortunately, if he’s bad, they’re going to say black coaches can’t do it.”
“Interestingly, if you’re a black coach from Europe, it’s different. Ruud Gullit and Jean Tigana were given the chance, because they speak two or three languages and they’re exotic. But if you’re a black Englishman, it’s a bit different.”
What of Liverpool’s exotic boss? “I’m a Rafa Benitez fan, in that he’s doing as well as can be expected with what he has. There’s not much to choose between the top four managers. I don’t think Ferguson would do any better than Benitez if he moved to Liverpool.
“Unfortunately, the best players are going to Chelsea, Manchester United and Arsenal. So you get the second or third- best players. It’s not Rafa’s fault that he can’t buy better quality. They’re just not gonna come.”
Isn’t Ryan Babel the new John Barnes?
“He’s the new Ryan Babel!” he snaps. “We’ve had players like Babel before, but because they weren’t black, nobody called them the new John Barnes. It has more to do with colour than any similarity as a player. He’s right-footed, and probably quicker than I was.
“But I feel sorry for Ryan, because he’s coming into a team who aren’t the best. John Barnes came into a Liverpool side who were the best team in England.”
But old glories give Barnes little pleasure nowadays: he craves dugout adrenaline. He’s no “Salsa Boy”, and aims to prove it.
amatoc@sundaytimes.co.za
Carlos Amato Published:Oct 05, 2008
Sowing the seed: John Barnes turns the first sod at the Albert Johanneson Legacy Park site in Soweto. The community sports complex, to be completed late next year, is backed by football conventions firm Soccerex
’Jamaica, like many African countries, have to lose that feeling of being second-class’
“Tell me, do they call the Italian national team ‘The Pasta Boys’?” asks John Barnes, new coach of Jamaica, through a mouthful of honey-glazed chicken.
“No,” I reply.
“No, they don’t!” he says. “So we’re not going to be The Reggae Boyz any more. Because it makes us a novelty football team. I don’t like novelties.
“All the nickname ‘Reggae Boyz’ tells you is: they dance, they have fun, they lose and they go home. I don’t like that. I don’t like that at all,” barks Barnes, making short work of an unsuspecting serviette. “And suppose we don’t even like reggae?”
[DweetSweet note: Baxside! A wha dis faada?
Seems like change is on the way....}The Liverpool great is an ambassador for Soccerex, the football business convention, and he’s here to turn the first sod at the Albert Johanneson Legacy Park, a sports centre the company is funding in Mapetla, Soweto.
But he’s mentally half way to Kingston when I gatecrash his lunch break in Sandton. Three days before we meet, Barnes got a call from Jamaica that ended with him agreeing to coach the island of his birth, without clapping eyes on a contract.
And it’s been eight years since his only previous coaching venture. One foul February night at Parkhead in 2000, his Celtic side fell 3-1 to Inverness Caledonian Thistle.
Cue the immortal headline: “Super Caley Go Ballistic, Celtic Are Atrocious”. Barnes was duly fired, seven months after he’d been head-hunted by old Anfield mucker Kenny Dalglish, then Celtic’s director of football.
“You have to know the people you’re working for,” recalls Barnes. “Kenny wanted me, but people higher up didn’t. Which was fine, but it meant I had to win every game. We won 11 of our first 12 matches, but I knew if we lost a few, the club’s lack of togetherness would count. And of course, Henrik Larsson broke his leg and never played for me again.”
English glamour boys are marked men in Glasgow at the best of times: it was always going to end in tears.
Since then, Barnes has undergone a tempestuous divorce and remarried, had two children (he has six in all) and worked in broadcasting. He has a mix of directness, articulacy and charm that’s rare in football media, but it’s all been a means to an end.
Barnes, nicknamed “Digger” after the Dallas character in his Anfield days, competed on Strictly Come Dancing last year, winning top marks for a salsa despite his hefty midriff.
“For the last eight years I’ve been in the media solely so football people don’t forget about me,” he says. “So that when an opportunity comes along, I am linked with it.”
The son of army colonel Ken Barnes and TV presenter Jean, he was 13 when he crossed the water in 1976, and his vowels still have Kingston curves. Like any thinking migrant, he scorns knee- jerk patriotism.
“When I go to Jamaica I feel 100% Jamaican,” he says. “When I’m in England I feel 100% English. People always accused me of not giving 100% for England, because I was born in Jamaica, which was absolute rubbish.”
It’s a sore point for Barnes, who did not consistently replicate his Anfield brilliance in 79 England appearances. It all began well: his first England goal, a solo masterpiece, came in a 2-0 win over Brazil at the Maracana in 1984. On the flight home, some neo-fascist England fans sang about a 1-0 victory, since the Barnes strike “didn’t count”.
A storming substitute appearance against Argentina at the 1986 World Cup — he made one goal and nearly an equaliser — didn’t sway the skinheads. At Italia ’90, in his prime, he missed the knockout rounds due to injury.
Will Barnes get a third stab at World Cup glory? Jamaica are on the brink of elimination from 2010, and must play Mexico and Honduras before he takes charge in November.
“Jamaica, like many African countries, have to lose that feeling of being second- class,” says Barnes. “The model to use is Liverpool in Istanbul — 3-0 down at halftime to a superior team, and they came back. Can you imagine an African team in the same situation coming back? It has nothing to do with ability, everything to do with togetherness and desire.
“And that’s what the big African teams need to achieve. Because whenever they reach the World Cup quarters, and they go 1-0 down, they fall to pieces.”
It’s a bracingly tough assessment, and Barnes is itching to whip a team into shape — but his aspirations have been delayed. Paul Ince’s appointment at Blackburn was the first of a black English coach by a Premiership club — but the real prejudice is in the proving grounds of the lower leagues, says Barnes.
“In football, these things change through crazes,” he says. “Arsene Wenger was successful, therefore so are all French managers. Rafa Benitez is good, therefore so are all Spanish managers. So if one black coach is successful, then black coaches will be in vogue. Which is ridiculous. Just because Paul Ince is good doesn’t mean another black coach is good! Unfortunately, if he’s bad, they’re going to say black coaches can’t do it.”
“Interestingly, if you’re a black coach from Europe, it’s different. Ruud Gullit and Jean Tigana were given the chance, because they speak two or three languages and they’re exotic. But if you’re a black Englishman, it’s a bit different.”
What of Liverpool’s exotic boss? “I’m a Rafa Benitez fan, in that he’s doing as well as can be expected with what he has. There’s not much to choose between the top four managers. I don’t think Ferguson would do any better than Benitez if he moved to Liverpool.
“Unfortunately, the best players are going to Chelsea, Manchester United and Arsenal. So you get the second or third- best players. It’s not Rafa’s fault that he can’t buy better quality. They’re just not gonna come.”
Isn’t Ryan Babel the new John Barnes?
“He’s the new Ryan Babel!” he snaps. “We’ve had players like Babel before, but because they weren’t black, nobody called them the new John Barnes. It has more to do with colour than any similarity as a player. He’s right-footed, and probably quicker than I was.
“But I feel sorry for Ryan, because he’s coming into a team who aren’t the best. John Barnes came into a Liverpool side who were the best team in England.”
But old glories give Barnes little pleasure nowadays: he craves dugout adrenaline. He’s no “Salsa Boy”, and aims to prove it.
amatoc@sundaytimes.co.za
If you choose to not call them that, that's up to you. But the name is part of history now.
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