Hook, Line & Sinker
As I entered the Chairman’s Suite I was greeted with a waitress who took my jacket and asked me If I would like a wine or beer? “Beer will be fine love.”
I glanced to the left and saw Ken Anderson deep in conversation with Eddie Davies. On the other side of the room Brett Warburton talking away with Simon Marland. In the corner was Lee Anderson sat glued to his phone wearing sunglasses indoors. He stuck out like a cocked-up footy agent in a room full of really rich people.
What in Christ’s name I was doing there is another question all together. An East Stand Lower scallywag mixing with this lot? Ah well, its a free bar and we all piss the same.
As the pre-match lunch was served, we were ushered to ‘Table A’, my name there right next to none other than Ken Anderson, the brand new owner of BWFC. Yikes.
My first impression was a good one to be honest. Him and his wife, really chatty and couldn't have been more welcoming. It was quite apparent I was no millionaire and had no business being sat next to him, but he didn’t seem to mind. His football knowledge is what allured me to him. As we chatted at half-time and watched results come in, his knowledge took me by surprise. He knew the background of every player, etc.
“Low and behold one week later came the very first note from the Chairman. Yeah sorry about that folks.”
As the day drew to a close his wife asked me, as a season ticket holder, what I’d like to see change at the club. I replied “transparency” that’s all we as fans want. Bearing in mind we’d just seen the club financially implode in the blink of an aye a few months before. We had gone from flittering money away on mercenaries under Dougie Freeman and Neil Lennon to being told the club was on the brink and none of us had an idea it was coming or what was going on, I thought my answer was pretty justified.
Low and behold one week later came the very first note from the Chairman. Yeah sorry about that folks.
It wasn’t long before I was back in there. Another warm welcome, this time from Lee and the conversation much more open. Talk of players coming in, money being spent on this and that. All seemed rosey. Not a mention of fleecing the club or winding us up funnily enough.
Ken just seemed a nice fellow, an extremely rich nice fellow. His Mrs into ballet and was flying to see ‘Swan Lake’ after one particular match. I honestly thought they were sound and the club was in good hands. Little did I know....
“Another warm welcome, this time from Lee and the conversation much more open. Talk of players coming in, money being spent on this and that.”
As time grew, the Twitter accountants were starting to circle. Lee had began his social media drive as ‘Superagent’ along with fans begging for retweets and the likes. But the books weren’t adding up. The tide was starting to shift. My next appearance in there, you could sense the angst towards the amateur accountants online and even more so our esteemed local journalist Marc Iles. His name was mud.
Obviously on the pitch, we got promoted and managed to avoid relegation. That papered over a lot of cracks, cracks the size of the Hooverdam. It also caused divide amongst the fans. I’ll hold my hands up, I defended them all the way to my next free day out on free beer. It was clear from the outset they were simply in town to flip the club, buy cheap, sell on and run off in to the sunset with a few million and we’d all be happy.
From speaking to them personally, and getting to know them pretty well, never in my wildest dreams did I think they’d be capable of letting the club get to the stage where it did.
The banners came out well and truly for the Sky TV cameras
The “Anderson Out” demo in full swing outside the stadium.
They’d got me hook, line and sinker. I’d spent days arguing their cause with antagonists on Twitter, every single Wednesday after the ‘Note from the Chairman’ it was open season. Jesus if I could have that time back – I could have learned a language or something.
Once those tennis balls came out and they got shown up on Sky TV, the gloves were off. They’d have taken every last penny and watch us burn after that if they could.
Once fooled, twice shy and all that, but I’ll take my next millionaire football club owner and his mental agent son with a pinch of salt.
...Lee never did reply to the last message I sent him.