Moyes, Fletcher, failures and the blame game

David Moyes

The charisma of failure, as we love to preach but hate to practice, lies not in the repercussions but in the process of the disaster. Retorting back when the crisis is over and reclaiming lost glory are merely the discernible specifics of a deeper and more profound procedure of surviving against the odds and preserving sanity.

No matter what philosophers assert in their texts, failures do scar lives of even the most impregnable in ways they could have hardly ever imagined. The impact often leaves them in the most vulnerable situations – helpless and distraught – making a resurgence seem tougher than it actually is.

Ironically, proverbial slogans, that had been coined with the sole purpose of providing motivation to those who seek, hardly counter the dramatics of reality. In the standards of the society, what doesn’t kill you doesn’t always make you stronger. Failures barely look like pillars of success when newer epitaphs about your career grace the headlines of the morning daily.

Sitting on the couch, moving your fingers across the keyboard, it’s easy to declare that testing times add to the flavor of life. For the one facing the heat, it’s remotely half as nice. Ask David Moyes. Ask Duncan Fletcher.

From the soaring heights of the 20th League title to the depressing woes of the mid-season, the unfathomably steep decline of one of the greatest football clubs in Europe has left hundreds of United supporters seething with fury, calling for the coach’s head. It’s pretty unclear how this would aid a team that’s being harmed by the unmistakable lack of intensity and application on the field, but, somehow, the manager’s head on the platter seem to be the ideal way for placing the blame.

As a former Everton manager, Moyes has had his fair share of failures, and he knows how to deal with them, of course. The results, one must agree, have been highly unbecoming of someone who had been hand-picked for arguably the most coveted job in England, but the story hasn’t been any different with the respect (read the lack of it) Moyes has received from fans. That he has been able to preserve his sanity at a time when hashtags like #MoyesOut had become a rage speaks deservedly of the absorbing powers of this man.

Yet, it is human and absolutely normal for a mortal sportsperson to break down under the anxiety of failure. The escalating pressure of performing coupled with the inescapable wrath of followers makes every target look remarkably imposing and maddeningly formidable. That recurring failures can be ruinous is amply evident in the recent incidents regarding Jonathan Trott. For someone of Trott’s caliber, 18 Test innings without a century can be well classified as a failure mortifying enough to call for a refuge.

Duncan Fletcher

The stakes, however, are not quite similar for Duncan Fletcher. His appointment at the helm of the Indian cricket team had never really earned the amount of reverence than one may find natural. As an ‘ECB reject’, his credentials have come under the scanner more often than not. With a string of below par performances in recent months, the Indian team has been seeking amusement in inconsistency for quite some time. Understandable it is, therefore, the impatience among the 1.2 billion to find a sacrificial lamb.

The replacement of Gary Kirsten had scarcely convinced the pundits who had been nurturing secret loathing for the Zimbabwean ever since the catastrophic tour of England. It’s not astonishing now that the voice of the legendary Sunil Gavaskar is turning out to be a proxy for the disgruntled cynics.

The chants of ‘mercenary’, ‘no achievements’ fill the air as the records continue to pile up against Fletcher. It’s not clear how the scathing remarks can soothe the scars of failure that the Men in Blue have suffered in recent months, nor is it apparent how vilifying the coach can technically benefit a pitiable top order. Once ignited, the Indian bandwagon has its way, though.

Excuses are being written in galore, failures highlighted – and achievements conveniently ignored – as slogans for the sacking continue to feed on popular propaganda. The emergency has arrived; the sole means of salvation lie on passing the blame on the available scapegoat. Foreign coaches don’t understand the mindset of subcontinent players. Sack him!

Fletcher’s case draws resemblance with Moyes’s in the fact that both had been selected for their roles by their legendary predecessors. Their lives, thereafter, haven’t been much rewarding, and malice and contempt have been as regular in their diet as a glass of water.

Failure is never a gorgeous word. In a society where statistics earn the ultimate trust for measurements, success and failure hardly remain as imposters. To stay inspired by Kipling’s words is a daunting task indeed, but not impossible.

Rafael Nadal has been doing the same for ages now: treating both success and failures with remarkable equanimity. As an impeccable personification of mental strength, the essence of Nadal’s conquests (and comebacks) lay more in his ability to survive and cope with failures than physical athleticism. It’s not without reason that thousands across the world revere the man who came back from career-threatening injuries to win Grand Slams again and again.

Nadal is yet another inspiration, even the thought of emulating whom may seem puerile; however, to have your stomach churn at the prospect of failure is one thing, and to back out is quite another. There’s no disregarding the fact that failures do invite criticism. To take it in one’s stride and allow for constructive introspection creates the recipe of success. Passing on the blame, although we would have loved to believe it did, does not.