Commons Confidential: Help from Blair’s friends

PLUS: A trip to Durham for the 129th Miners' Gala.

Blue Ed’s bashing of the trade unions is opening coffin lids as Blairites rise to offer advice, to the Miliband they opposed, on how to fight a Labour civil war. The prospect of a factional dispute prompted Peter Mandelson to slip quietly into the back of a Parliamentary Labour Party meeting. Regulars couldn’t recall when he last tipped up, and likened his presence to a shark scenting blood in the water. Mandy scribbled furiously and said nothing. Miliband, I hear, avoided informing MPs he’d require unionists to opt in to, not out of, a levy to the Labour Party. On the eve of the huge announcement Blue Ed was deliberately vague, several of those present tell me, about the details in order to avoid a hostile reception. The calculated haziness recalled how Tony Blair failed to spell out his Clause Four plan at the 1994 conference, inserting a soft line at the end of his speech on the need to change the constitution, so that most delegates left the hall ignorant of his plan. All very Mandelsonian.

Where is Michael Foot’s walking stick? John Wrobel, the manager of the Gay Hussar eatery in Soho, favoured for decades by the one-time Labour leader, is trying to track it down. Wrobel intends to display the stick on the wall in memory of his old customer, who died in March 2010. The “donkey jacket” that Tory MPs and right-whinge papers claimed Foot wore to the Cenotaph on a Remembrance Sunday, supposedly insulting the war dead, is on display at the People’s History Museum in Manchester. The short overcoat was in fact bought from Harrods by Foot’s wife, Jill Craigie, who insisted the Queen Mother complimented her hubby on his choice of attire. Foot’s stick could double today as a support for MPs leaving the Gay Hussar, mostly unsteady after a long lunch.

To the city of Durham for the 129th Miners’ Gala, where Dave Hopper, chief hewer to the local pitmen, introduced yours truly as a journalist on the Daily Mail. I resisted the temptation to liken his slip to me calling this National Union of Mineworkers veteran of the heroic 1984-85 strike a member of the scabbing Union of Democratic Mineworkers, not least because Hopper’s a big lad. Ed Miliband spoke at last year’s Big Meeting, as Durham people call the local gathering of the coalfield clans, and indicated he’d be delighted to attend next year. The invitation will be issued. It will be interesting to see if the Labour leader accepts, after recent events.

The ex-Paisley Daily Express hack now Glasgow Labour MP Tom Harris is turning Dennis Skinner memorabilia into a nice little earner for his constituency party. Harris collects the Beast of Bolsover’s prayer cards – reservations carrying a name which are slotted into brass holders to bag a spot on the green benches. Skinner signs them for Harris to raffle. The last raised £25. Hardly a hedgefund million or a gift from the unions, but every little helps.

Kevin Maguire is the associate editor (politics) of the Daily Mirror

One PLP meeting regular likened Peter Mandelson showing up to "a shark scenting blood in the water". Montage: Dan Murrell/New Statesman

Kevin Maguire is Associate Editor (Politics) on the Daily Mirror and author of our Commons Confidential column on the high politics and low life in Westminster. An award-winning journalist, he is in frequent demand on television and radio and co-authored a book on great parliamentary scandals. He was formerly Chief Reporter on the Guardian and Labour Correspondent on the Daily Telegraph.

This article first appeared in the 22 July 2013 issue of the New Statesman, How to make a saint

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Want your team to succeed? Try taking a step back

From the boardroom to the sports ground, managers need to step back for creativity to thrive.

Everyone is in favour of creativity, usually at the expense of creative people. The concept is in perpetual boom. Give us creative midfielders, creative leadership, creative solutions, creative energy. It’s with the “how” that the problems start – with extra meetings and meddling, over-analysis and prescriptiveness, whiteboards and flow charts. Professional systems rarely support the creativity that they allegedly seek. The creativity industry system is at odds with its stated goals.

The novel was an early casualty. Nothing makes me close a book more quickly and finally than the creeping realisation that the author is following a narrative map purchased on an American creative writing course. Life is too short for competent novels. The creativity industry pulls up the worst while dragging down the best.

Something similar happens inside professional sport, even though creativity is so obviously linked to performance and profit. Yet sport, especially English sport, has suffered from excessive managerialism. Perhaps guilt about English sport’s amateur legacy gave “professionalism” free rein, however pedestrian its form.

Here is sport’s problem with creativity: professional systems crave control, but creativity relies on escaping control. If an attacking player doesn’t know what he is going to do next, what chance does the defender have?

So when truly unexpected moments do happen, they take on a special lustre. This month, Olivier Giroud scored an unforgettable goal for Arsenal. Bearing down on the goal, he was already launched in mid-air when he realised that the cross was well behind him. With his body far ahead of his feet, Giroud clipped the ball to the top corner of the net with the outside of his left ankle – a so-called scorpion kick.

It was, in retrospect, the only option available to him. Football, for a moment, touched the arts – not only beautiful, but also complete. Nothing could have been added or taken away.

I once tried to compare the perfect cricket shot to Robert Frost’s celebrated description of writing a poem: “It begins in delight, it inclines to the impulse, it assumes direction with the first line laid down, it runs a course of lucky events, and ends in a clarification . . . Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting.”

A great goal, however, fits that poetic model better than a cricket shot. Cricket shots come in many aesthetic grades, but they are all intended as shots. A goal, on the other hand, is more than just a very good pass, only better. There is an act of transformation within the event.

Frost’s acknowledgment of luck (distinct here from fluke) neatly defuses the accusation. Saying that a great goal involved luck does not to diminish it. Many unearned factors must interact with the skill.

“But did he mean it?” some people have wondered about Giroud’s goal. That isn’t the point, either. There wasn’t time. Giroud had solved the problem – to make contact with the ball, however possible, directing it towards the goal – before he was fully conscious of it. That doesn’t make it an accident. The expertise of a striker, like that of a writer, is opportunistic. He puts himself in positions where his skills can become productive. It is a honed ability to be instinctive. “If I’d thought about it, I never would have done it,” as Bob Dylan sings on “Up to Me”, an out-take from Blood on the Tracks.

Pseudo-intellectual? Quite the reverse. There is nothing pretentious about recognising and protecting creativity in sport. Over-literal decoding is the greater threat: instinctive performance needs to be saved from team meetings, not from intellectuals.

Having described a creative goal as unplanned – indeed, impossible to plan – what can coaches do to help? They can get out of the way, that’s a good start. It is no coincidence that the teams of Arsène Wenger, who is sometimes criticised for being insufficiently prescriptive, score more than their fair share of wonder goals.

The opposite arrangement is bleak. A friend of mine, a fly-half in professional rugby union, retired from the game when his coaches told him exactly which decisions to make in the first six phases of every attacking move. In effect, they banned him from playing creatively; they wanted rugby by numbers.

Not everything can be rehearsed. One useful book for coaches scarcely mentions sport – Inside Conducting, by the conductor Christopher Seaman. “I’ve never had much sympathy for conductors who ‘program’ an orchestra at rehearsal,” Seaman writes, “and then just run the program during the performance. There is much more
to it than that.”

Dan Vettori, the rising star among cricket’s Twenty20 coaches, is rare for having the bravery to echo Seaman’s theory. He believes that cricketers are more likely to play well when they feel slightly underprepared. It’s a risk and a fine balance – but worth it.

As I explored here last month in the context of Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky, there is a danger of slotting players into false stereotypes and classifications. Giroud, for example, is slow. Slow yet athletic. That’s an unusual combination and partly explains why he is underrated.

We often think of pace as the central and definitive aspect of athleticism. But speed is just one component of total athletic ability (leave to one side footballing skill). Giroud has an outstanding vertical jump, power and great balance. Because he is big and slow, those athletic gifts are harder to spot.

Management systems overestimate both labels and top-down tactics. A braver policy, pragmatic as well as aesthetic, is to be less controlling: allow opportunity to collide with skill, directed by an open, expert and uncluttered mind. l

Ed Smith is a journalist and author, most recently of Luck. He is a former professional cricketer and played for both Middlesex and England.

This article first appeared in the 12 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's revenge