Born on April 22nd, 1942 a distinguished career with Ostsiden, Sarpsborg, Frigg (!) and Valerenga saw him capped 16 times for the Norweigan national team before a move into management.
Coach of the Norweigan national football side from 1990 to 1998, including two World Cup campaigns and a famous victory over Brazil during France '98. Before his rise to the top job they were nothing short of European minnows - the Macedonia or Lithuania of their day - by the time he left they might not have been feared by the Italians, French or English but they were certainly respected.
Appointed as Manager of Wimbledon on August 7th, 1999. The press, and some fans took an immediate dislike to Olsen. It didn't help that he looked like an elderly member of Ah-Ha, wore a distinctive pair of gumboots everywhere and spoke in a sort of strange sporting marxist fashion. It was all about working together as a collective towards the goal of seeing the Dons play in Europe. "He's a foreigner!" they said. "We've never heard of him!". Who, though, had ever heard the name Arsene Wenger before he took over at Arsenal? He came from the freaking Japanese league while Olsen had a proven track-record of successfully managing under-resourced and ordinary sides. I know which one I would have chosen at the time.
"There are two teams I have dreamt about managing - Brazil and Wimbledon" he said on his appointment to the club. Was it legit, or purely "I want you to want me" bluster? We'll never know I suppose, but the evidence presented tends to point to it being at least partly true. His ultra-defensive style that frustrated the world during two World Cups would theoretically fit in perfectly with a side who, in the public's view, had survived for more than ten years in a league much classier than they had any right to be involved with by playing a brand of negative long-ball soccer.
The season started well enough. A 3-2 win over Watford ensured maximum points on opening day but there wasn't to be another league win until October 16th when a Hartson double and Cort goal ensured another 3-2 victory, this time against Bradford.
It had certainly been anything but the negative, dour football the hacks had predicted. The team had already scored three goals in a game five times that year, including two League Cup games. We almost pulled off one of the great upsets at Old Trafford as well - Olsen signing Walid Badir, an Israeli international, opened the scoring after a quarter of an hour and we held on grimly until Jordi Cruyff cheated an equaliser with twenty minutes left. I remember kicking my couch when that goal went in. The problem wasn't, however, scoring goals but rather conceding them at too rapid a rate. 74 in 38 games at the end of the year despite having one of the Premierships best keepers at the time told a story of it's own.
A strong win against Leeds followed, but as a number of draws highlighted relegation as a real possibility a 5-0 massacre of Watford gave us some hope that the great WFC Premier League dream might carry on for another season at least. Sadly too many factors seemed to go against us.
He tried to impose a new tactical scheme on the side, one that had worked so well for him as an international manager, with mixed results. The idea of playing tall strikers down the wing increased the goal-scoring options ten-fold but the failure of defenders to grasp the intricacies of zone defending meant the goals leaked in at an astounding rate. A 5-1 hammering at the hands of Sheffield Wednesday went hand in hand with 4-0 capitulations against Everton and Derby and a 4-1 flogging by Leeds, after we'd been 1-0 in front.
"What I fear most is bad luck. For example, a mad referee." - Olsen
The last win in the top flight came against Leicester on November 3rd. A Carl Cort winner in the 87th minute lifted us well into the mid-table and all that was needed for survival was a good consistent run home. Then Olsen could clear the dead wood, and those not willing to adapt to his plans, and recruit the right side to meet his requirements. Sure, they might have all ended up as Scandanavians but who cared as long as it meant the Dons were in the big-time and winning.
Then it really went wrong. After seven consecutive losses, ten games without a win, and a slide into the relegation zone the players started panicking - Hartson, Cort and Hughes all called for a change of manager during the summer. Ex-manager Joe Kinnear, the man who paid seven and a half million pounds for the clearly unfit (i.e FAT) Hartson and then had a heart-attack fired up as well - "Olsen has ripped the heart out of my Wimbledon" he claimed. "Fuck off" replied a great portion of the fanbase. This was, after all, the tosser who publically supported moving the entire team to Dublin years before Koppell ever floated the idea of packing up the club and shifting to Milton Keynes.
In light of his zany semi-communist sporting philosophies it was ironic that he was sacked by his countryman and WFC Chairman Gjelstein on May 1st, 1999 after the side slumped to a 3-0 defeat at Bradford City. Terry Burton, later sacked in outrageous fashion by well-known moron Charles Koppell, took over but it was too late to salvage the season as a last day loss at Southampton and Liverpool's surely corrupt throwing of a game against Bradford ('88 Cup Final payback I think) sealed our fate.
His final tally as manager was 43 games for 11 wins, 12 draws and 20 losses.
Many Wimbledon fans lay the blame for our relegation from the Premier League solely at the gumbooted feet of Olsen, but I disagree. The tide of money pouring into the top flight ensured that sooner, rather than later, we'd succumb to the pressure of being the top flights 'poor' relation and go down. The whinging of the players, general misery of a great deal of the supporter base and backroom fighting between (alleged) tax cheat Sam Hammam and the Norweigan powerboat racers who would eventually put Charles Kopell in charge all contributed to add an air of farce to the clubs survival tilt.
Egil, you might have been mad and you might have been the man who relegated us. But somebody has to show you some love, and that's me.
Consider this analysis of the man, and tell me he's not some kind of genius,
A manager who travels back from Sunderland on the train with supporters, goes home by tube and conducts a post-match analysis with slightly tipsy fans while standing in the carriage is plenty Crazy Gang spirit for me.
Egil "Drillo" Olsen (1999-2000). We salute you!
No comments:
Post a Comment