2004 to a football youth development scheme?
None of these arguments was conclusive one way or the other, as a number of wealthy individuals over the years have been found to have fiddled the equivalent of loose change to them. But they were still relevant questions to ask in response to the prosecutionâs closing remarks that the
News of the World
tape was âperhaps the most important and compelling evidence in this caseâ.
Judge Leonard had missed the mark with his pre-trial prediction of the proceedings being wrapped up inside two weeks â he probably hadnât counted on the pedestrian style of the prosecution case â and it was well into the third week that the jury were asked to retire to consider their verdict.
During the day or so they were out, the media played the usual game of trying to appear professional and resist second-guessing the result, while doing precisely that among themselves. Some were convinced Mandaric and Redknapp would be found guilty; others dreamed up a nice sideline in conspiracy theories. âA London jury will never convict a London manager who is tipped to be next England manager,â one reporter told me. He may even have been right, but to me it all seemed rather more straightforward. While I couldnât have put my hand on my heart and sworn I believed they were both definitely innocent, nothing I had heard in court would have enabled me to find them guilty beyond any reasonable doubt.
The jury had been asked to consider four separate counts â two each of tax evasion against Mandaric and Redknapp â but it was all over after the first. The judge had said in his summing up that it wasnât an option for the jury to find Mandaric not guiltyand Redknapp guilty, so when the first charge against Mandaric received a clear âNot guiltyâ from the foreman, then the other three verdicts were a formality; if the first payment by Mandaric into Redknappâs Monaco bank account wasnât an attempt to avoid tax on a âCrouchie bonusâ, then the second could hardly be either.
As the first verdict was announced, Jamie Redknappâs eyes reddened as he struggled to hold back his emotions. But Redknapp gave little away. A hug with Mandaric, a shake of the hand with the guard sitting next to him in the dock, a mouthed âThank youâ to his defence team and the jury and he was out of the court. On the steps outside, surrounded by a phalanx of reporters, cameras and microphones, Redknapp said the whole ordeal had been a nightmare and a terrible strain on his family, but you wouldnât necessarily have guessed it just by looking at him. He was a little more subdued out of deference to the occasion â strictly no one-liners for this lunchtime press conference â but it was another brilliant Redknapp performance. Despite a probable mixture of relief, anger, ecstasy and exhaustion, he held it all together perfectly. âThatâs all I want to say for now,â he concluded. âI just want to go home and relax with my family.â And with that, he got into the back seat of a taxi and was off.
As the crowd dissipated and the journalists scuttled away to file their reports, it occurred to me that this was the end of a very long story about corruption in football, one that had begun as whispers over twenty years ago and had developed into concrete charges just over a decade ago. One of the benefits of a ringside seat at the trial had been the privilege of sitting next to my friend and colleague David Conn, the
Guardian
âs award-winning sports reporter, who probably knows as much about the murkier recesses of the finances of English professional football as anyone. He was the first to point out just how much of a disaster the trial had been for both those tasked with âcleaning up footballâ and thepolice. âStories have swirled for years that bungs were commonplace in a national sport drowning in cash
None of these arguments was conclusive one way or the other, as a number of wealthy individuals over the years have been found to have fiddled the equivalent of loose change to them. But they were still relevant questions to ask in response to the prosecutionâs closing remarks that the
News of the World
tape was âperhaps the most important and compelling evidence in this caseâ.
Judge Leonard had missed the mark with his pre-trial prediction of the proceedings being wrapped up inside two weeks â he probably hadnât counted on the pedestrian style of the prosecution case â and it was well into the third week that the jury were asked to retire to consider their verdict.
During the day or so they were out, the media played the usual game of trying to appear professional and resist second-guessing the result, while doing precisely that among themselves. Some were convinced Mandaric and Redknapp would be found guilty; others dreamed up a nice sideline in conspiracy theories. âA London jury will never convict a London manager who is tipped to be next England manager,â one reporter told me. He may even have been right, but to me it all seemed rather more straightforward. While I couldnât have put my hand on my heart and sworn I believed they were both definitely innocent, nothing I had heard in court would have enabled me to find them guilty beyond any reasonable doubt.
The jury had been asked to consider four separate counts â two each of tax evasion against Mandaric and Redknapp â but it was all over after the first. The judge had said in his summing up that it wasnât an option for the jury to find Mandaric not guiltyand Redknapp guilty, so when the first charge against Mandaric received a clear âNot guiltyâ from the foreman, then the other three verdicts were a formality; if the first payment by Mandaric into Redknappâs Monaco bank account wasnât an attempt to avoid tax on a âCrouchie bonusâ, then the second could hardly be either.
As the first verdict was announced, Jamie Redknappâs eyes reddened as he struggled to hold back his emotions. But Redknapp gave little away. A hug with Mandaric, a shake of the hand with the guard sitting next to him in the dock, a mouthed âThank youâ to his defence team and the jury and he was out of the court. On the steps outside, surrounded by a phalanx of reporters, cameras and microphones, Redknapp said the whole ordeal had been a nightmare and a terrible strain on his family, but you wouldnât necessarily have guessed it just by looking at him. He was a little more subdued out of deference to the occasion â strictly no one-liners for this lunchtime press conference â but it was another brilliant Redknapp performance. Despite a probable mixture of relief, anger, ecstasy and exhaustion, he held it all together perfectly. âThatâs all I want to say for now,â he concluded. âI just want to go home and relax with my family.â And with that, he got into the back seat of a taxi and was off.
As the crowd dissipated and the journalists scuttled away to file their reports, it occurred to me that this was the end of a very long story about corruption in football, one that had begun as whispers over twenty years ago and had developed into concrete charges just over a decade ago. One of the benefits of a ringside seat at the trial had been the privilege of sitting next to my friend and colleague David Conn, the
Guardian
âs award-winning sports reporter, who probably knows as much about the murkier recesses of the finances of English professional football as anyone. He was the first to point out just how much of a disaster the trial had been for both those tasked with âcleaning up footballâ and thepolice. âStories have swirled for years that bungs were commonplace in a national sport drowning in cash
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