Major Major Major Major

When SMBU heard about the vast scale of the announcements at last night’s Fans Forum, we knew that only one man was fit to cover it for us. Renowned author and less renowned Wanderers fan Joseph Heller was put on the next B-25 from Pianosa to Booker.

“Major Major Major Major had had a difficult time from the start.”

The room thronged with Wanderers’ foot soldiers and the press-ganged staff, the Vere Suite full to standing, such was the interest in Major Major’s major announcement. The punters present could be separated crudely into 4 groups. Those who just wanted to talk tactics with Coach McWhat. The silent majority who wanted to listen mutely to the proceedings and leave, muttering or shrugging their shoulders. The few cheerleaders who just wanted everything to be OK and to let everybody know that if it was good for Wanderers, it was great for them. And the awkward squad. The few persistent troublemakers. The eternally carping, the over-intellectualising, the pernickety, the negative influence.

To send a clear message to any potential troublemakers, Major Major had first asked the police to make a pitch on behalf of a “Neighbourhood Action Group” for Wycombe Wanderers. “You are a big neighbourhood after all?” said the Plod. We’ll tell you later, said the silent majority. Silently.

“He was a devout man whose pulpit was everywhere.”

In spite of his insistence that he doesn’t want the limelight, in spite of his insistence that he doesn’t want to be Chairman, in spite of the fact that the Chairman himself was there, Major Major ran the show. Sure, Parry looked like the compere, but Major Major gave us a timely reminder that he had interviewed Parry. Colonel Beeks was there too, and even answered a question that hadn’t been asked, but the stage was Major Major’s.

“Even among men lacking all distinction he inevitably stood out as a man lacking more distinction than the rest”

So, Major Major’s major announcement? Less of an announcement and more of an ultimatum. This club was not currently sustainable. (“Good spot that”, muttered the Awkward Squad. “And it’s unsustainable because you’ve been pissing your money up the wall ...”). We had plateaued in performance since 1996 and things were only now on the verge of looking up. We had good partnerships coming out of our ears – he reeled off 20 or so from the Community Department– but the most crucial one was with Wasps and we needed a better partnership with Wycombe District Council, given that Adams Park currently saw the largest gatherings in the area and the club was such a big player in the community. The town was currently missing out. So the economics dictated that we needed a new stadium, with a site capable of generating more income for the sports clubs and more benefit for the community. This should be based on “enabling development” of the MK Franchise kind: Tesco get permission to build that superstore, or Barretts to build those houses, if they also provide funding for the construction of a community stadium. Whilst dealings with the Council had been cordial, the next year would tell us whether the Council wanted the stadium that Wanderers and Wasps needed – a state of the art ground, with terracing by the way because Major Major liked to stand with the ordinary folks - and with income-generating facilities. In order to drive the community stadium proposition forward, Major Major had bought 11% of the egg-chasers shares and taken a seat on their board.

“Actually, Major Major had been promoted by an IBM machine with a sense of humour almost as keen as his father’s.”

There were two seasons left of funding at the current level. At the end of the current season a decision would be taken on the whether the current level funding would go beyond that or whether there would be a scaling-down of investment. The decision depended on the support of the District Council, the fans and local businesses for the community stadium proposition; and the fans supplying the data the club needed to increase attendances. This last point was crucial – sure fans had a legal right not to supply the data – but nobody objected to having a Tesco Clubcard, did they? And the club needed a good history of data to really get into the minds of supporters, said Major Major making it sound like deep social research - right now let’s run that with both variables - which fans support the new cheese and early withdrawal from Iraq?

In a final flourish, Major Major assured the crowd there was no place he’d rather be. This club could thrive but it needed help – from the council, from the community, from supporters. Responsibility could not rest on the shoulders of any one person. “What? Not even you, Major Major? gulped the cheerleaders.

“What the hell has Catch-22 got to do with it?”

And so the questions came in and were batted back with blitheness and a little irrelevance, Major Major helped out only by the irrelevant response of the irrelevant Colonel Beeks.

What about the conflict of interests between the Wanderers and Wasps roles? Most important was how the two boards behaved. They were all good people and Major Major could work with them. Where necessary, he’d leave the room. Did he see a case for a merger? Not at the moment, but Wasps plans and rugby regulations mean that they can’t stay in a 10,000 stadium. How had talks gone with the Council? They were good, but the wheels turn slow and Major Major was not a patient man. Who would own the stadium? It would have to be shared ownership with the joint owners earning money from the site. Why couldn’t we own it, given the enabling development? In steps the Colonel muttering about factories and how you wouldn’t open them only 6 months of the year. How big a stadium do the egg-chasers need? Major Major was currently thinking in the order of 17 – 20,000. Was that realistic for Wanderers, given the competition from other clubs in all directions? Yes, said Major Major, we must not fear the competition, we should take them on. Did the punter ever go to Elm Park? The club needed to work at building the support in the community and through the database. What was the club doing about the debt now? Was anything being done to tackle it other than looking at a new ground? The debt was to Major Major himself, but no, it couldn’t be paid off without this new ground – that was clear.

And that was that. Sure, there was a little banter with the inaudible and taciturn Coach McWhat. And a ringing endorsement from the surprise cheerleaders’ cheerleader, Dr Who, but the message was clear: it was Major Major’s way or no way. The thing that nobody said? “I’ve stuck over three million pounds into your club to make it worth less than no pounds. And now only I can make it worth something again. Follow me.” Go right ahead, Major Major, the silent majority silently responded.

Go right ahead.

24.08.2007. 10:57

Write a comment