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*Originally published June, 2008

It is sad to think that sports teams, specifically soccer clubs, like microcosms of corrupt political systems, can uphold some of the most disgusting aspects of both capitalism and fascism at once. In the insanely free-market economy of world soccer only those who fall under the “stupid-rich” category of wealth come to own clubs. Those with complete control over their club, like Chelsea’s Roman Ambramovich or Manchester City’s Thaksin Shinawatra, can do whatever the hell they want without any checks and balances or heed of fans’ desires. Maybe such power comes as a natural and necessary evil of all the money in modern sports. But I think that we need to stop thinking of some owners as the untouchable saviors of our clubs and start treating them more like the self-serving and fascist control-mongers that they have become. Thaksin’s ignorant nut-flexing over Manchester City and that poor google-eyed Swede has become too detrimental to the club, the fans, and the sport as a whole to accept. If he does axe Eriksson, it will serve as an ignorant decision from both a despot and a shameless entrepreneur. And If this doesn’t serve as solid grounds for revolt for fans of the club and fans of the game then I don’t know what does.

"Ha ha ha. British citizens don't get prosecuted for human rights violations do they Mr. Blair?"

Like the flippant owner of a fantasy team, Thaksin has openly stated that Sven-Goran Eriksson did not achieve enough in his first year with the club. A “disappointing” second half of the year, in which City fell from the top six to ninth, prompted Thaksin to say that he will pursue Portuguese National team manager, Philippe Scolari, in the off-season.

For Thaksin to dismantle Eriksson’s train, still picking up the right parts but rolling along nicely, would be tragic and unfair. By any realistic standard of measurement Eriksson had a good first season while he laid the foundation for future success in the next two years of his contract. He made a number of shrewd purchases (Elano, Petrov, and Corluka), brought up quality youngsters within the system (Fernandes, Harte, and Johnson), and turned a basement-dwelling team into a challenger for European competition. At times they played some of the sharpest, toughest, and most dynamic soccer in the league. They finished in the top ten, as the league’s most improved club. They were the only team to beat Manchester United twice. And they won without a deep or complete squad, weaknesses that ultimately crippled them, playing most of the year without any sort of bonafied striker.

Eriksson’s work this season has earned him the support of City players and fans alike. Players have been vocal about their faith in the manager and the defensive-minded but fluid system of play he has established. Fans have recently made stadiums echo with chants to “Save Sven!”

But ultimately, the man who signs the checks will determine the direction of the club, humanity and democracy be damned. Players and fans have no meaningful voice and no power to change this. Why? The simple answer, and the right one, is that this is the way sports work in a society driven by money. But to an extent, players and fans also don’t speak out for the same reasons that people living under corrupt fascist regimes or crushingly capitalist societies don’t. They fear retaliation and they fear losing what they have. And although I am exaggerating the extent of this powerlessness, it should make us think about why and how we should change this.

City’s players haven’t revolted against their owner, with strikes or any other form of resistance, for fear of losing their jobs. Eriksson has already warned City players against striking during this month’s tour of Asia so that they can protect their careers and their future at the club. Eriksson knows that if his own job is disposable, so are the jobs of any of the players in the club.

A real team player

Many City fans have also proposed various strikes, suggesting boycotts of ticket and merchandise sales. But the more prevailing view has been that such forms of resistance wouldn’t loosen Thaksin’s control over the club or affect the economic standing of the team. Thaksin seems bent on making the type of moves that will make City a more internationally marketable team (first laughably proposing to sign magnetic players of the likes of Ronaldinho, and now proposing to sign one of the most desirable managers in the world in Scolari). The team no longer belongs to Manchester. It belongs to the world.

Also, City fans might fear the result of a revolt. Undermining Thaksin’s control could mean undermining the team’s financial sway. And a billionaire with an open pocketbook doesn’t come along very often to a second tier soccer club. The Shinawatra era, like the golden years for many Russians under Stalin, holds the promise of the good life, glory and fame that lowly City fans have only previously dreamed of. And for all the criticism of Thaksin’s manhandling of the club, many fans have an inkling of curiosity, even hope, to see what sort of magic Thaksin’s monetary powers can conjure. The majority of soccer fans, without strong bonds to the club, also probably don’t want to stand in the way of Thaksin’s blank-check-wielding. For them, the drama with Manchester City has been intriguing. There remains a possibility that Thaksin could create a “joker” of sorts that could disrupt the stranglehold the top clubs have on the league.

How can we ensure that Thaksin keeps Erikkson as the man to create that joker? As it seems like a foregone conclusion that he won’t, then I don’t know. Maybe fans could stage a grander display of loyalty to Eriksson and the current club. Maybe they could bring back hooliganism in its purest form, beyond the fanatic signs and chants that exploded around stadiums at City’s last few games of the season, in a way that truly shows fans’ loyalty to the club and not loyalty to violence for the sake of violence. How many angry, loud, beer-buzzed fans can we get to picket around the stadium? How much noise would it take to bring Thaksin out from the gold-studded walls of his Thailand palace to address a crumbling local fan base?

A little thing called the internet might also help fans galvanize support. On a quieter, but potentially much larger scale, on-line networks of fans and supporters can make their keyboard clicks heard. Web sites like savesven.co.uk are popping up that aim to “Save Sven from the boot!” through petitions and by creating a collective voice for those busy, civilized, but still concerned protesters. A few swirling petitions to “Save Sven” have tallied signature-totals over five digits. We need more of the same, especially from international fans, as these fans seem to serve as Thaksin’s target market. Enough criticism and Thaksin might think twice before firing such a beloved and supported manager.

But I fear that Thaksin will act before fans can create a loud or powerful enough revolt. Erikkson will get axed in the next few days or even hours. And I, along with the majority of other fans, will continue to watch from afar, fixed on the internet and TV to see the news, alone and helpless at a time requiring some sort of mass action.

I hope the club at least sells Erikkson jerseys to the public after he goes. That way us fans could show subtle displeasure with Thaksin’s rule while we still support the club financially, which sadly seems like the only thing we can do these days to undermine the fasci-capitalist owners, teams, and sports that we love too much to tear apart.

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