Former EADT and Ipswich Star sports editor Tony Garnett reported on Ipswich Town for more than 40 years, from the 1960s until he retired in 2007. In the latest of a series looking at former Town bosses, he shares some of his memories of John Duncan....
John Duncan was a disciple of the long ball game POMO, which is short for position of maximum opportunity.
His style sent the ball flying over the heads of a talented midfield that included Jason Dozzell and Mark Brennan.
Duncan’s team finished eighth, eighth and ninth and were never in danger of relegation from Division Two.
The problem was that supporters, who enjoyed the flowing style preferred by Bobby Robson and Bobby Ferguson, did not enjoy Duncan’s approach to the game.
Duncan was not helped by a lack of loyalty from a key member of his staff. He should have taken heed of Bill McGarry’s philosophy “If they are not with me, they are against me”.
Duncan invited Charlie Woods to be his assistant-manager. When I saw Woods at Woodbridge Golf Club that summer he was elated.
Duncan, he told me, would be a great signing for the club. Duncan had been advised to ditch Woods by the board but decided to keep him only because he needed someone to advise him on the playing staff.
If Duncan had followed managers like Roy Keane and Paul Jewell at Portman Road his style would have been more acceptable to supporters. It was hard to follow Robson and Ferguson, two managers who insisted on a stylish passing game.
For that, of course, the Town directors were not blameless. They should have discovered during the interviewing process that Duncan favoured the long-ball game, which would be accepted by Ipswich supporters only if it resulted in a speedy return to Division One.
Duncan was far better educated than the average professional footballer and a thoroughly pleasant individual.
When he left Portman Road he stepped straight into a post as a teacher at Hadleigh High School where he did a good job academically as well as boosting Suffolk Schools’ golf.
He later returned to football for a second spell as manager of Chesterfield.
But for a cruel goal-line decision against Middlesbrough, when a goal was not awarded even through the ball had crossed the line, he would have guided the Spireites to the FA Cup final in 1997.
Duncan made mistakes. Woods changed his tune after a while and because he also liked the passing game to which he had become accustomed.
His obvious lack of support for his manager must have been unsettling for star midfielders Dozzell and Brennan who would watch the ball fly over the heads.
Duncan realised that his right-hand man was being disruptive and promoted Peter Trevivian as his first team coach.
Duncan’s big mistake was keeping Woods in the building with reduced responsibility. This was a recipe for disaster.
One evening I went to Duncan’s house at Capel St Mary and, after several whiskies, asked him why he had not sacked Woods.
His answer was “I didn’t like to put him out of a job at his age.” Duncan was too soft. Woods never seemed to appreciate how fortunate he had been. I slept on Duncan’s sofa that night. Driving home was out of the question.
Once Duncan called me into his office to discuss how he could win over the support of Brennan. “You get on with Mark, what is his favourite drink?” he asked me.
I volunteered that it was probably White Top beer. Duncan brought some into his office and then invited Brennan for a discussion. The beer was finished. The plan failed.
In his third season in charge Duncan made a sluggish start but finished well. He called me over before going home on the team bus shortly before the end of the campaign.
He asked “Do you think I have done enough to save my job?” I had to tell him that I feared not. I had already been tipped off by a director that a change was afoot.
Perhaps some directors did not feel comfortable with the fact that, even after an away defeat, Duncan would start a card school almost as soon as the engine of the bus started for the journey home. He preferred to keep his inquests until training on Monday.
Often he would ring up during the week and ask if I was travelling with the team. If I said no he’d, as like as not, say: “We need you for the card school.”
Duncan was good at publicity stunts. When he was manager of Scunthorpe United he selected Ian Botham in his first team. This no doubt added a few to the gate.
At Ipswich he signed Sergei Baltacha, the first Russian international to play in League football in England. The snag was that Baltacha was a sweeper for Dynamo Kiev and Russia in the mould of Bobby Moore.
Ipswich never used the sweeper system so his talent went to waste at Portman Road. He later joined St Johnstone where he was able to play in his favoured role. Baltacha was also unlucky with injuries.
Baltacha’s daughter Elena was only a tiny tot when the family arrived in Ipswich. She later became England’s leading lady tennis player but sadly died of cancer at the age of 30.
On the day of the funeral Duncan, with whom I had lost touch, was back in Ipswich.
He rang me suggesting that we meet for a cup of coffee. It was good to see him again. It underlined the different relationships between football managers and the media before the turn the century.
One summer’s day I asked Duncan if I could come to his Capel house for a chat. He warned me that one of his daughters had chicken pox. I ignored the warning to my cost. I was busy dabbing on calamine lotion on a very spotty and itchy torso for several days.
A low point in Duncan’s reign at Portman Road was New Year’s Eve in the Potteries. Ipswich Town were preparing for a match against Port Vale.
The players all went to their room in good time. A few decided to slip out through a window and see in the New Year elsewhere.
Some weary Ipswich players crashed to a 5-0 defeat the next afternoon. David Linighan was the ring-leader.
Duncan learned his lesson. In future years he would insist that the players celebrated New Year together. That way at least he knew where they were on the stroke of midnight.
One of Duncan’s problems was that he never understood that dropping a Division Two player on good wages was hardly a deterrent.
To drop a player in the Fourth Division was a different matter. There was virtually nowhere else for them to go.
When Ipswich were away to Sheffield United at Bramall Lane in March 1988 I had a call from radio reporter Bryan Knights asking for a favour. “Would I drive Dalian Atkinson’s car to Sheffield so that he could take it on to join up with the England under-21 training squad.”
I agreed. That was before I had seen the car.
It was a sporty pink and white Alfa Romeo. I asked Dalian to check whether it was insured for me to drive.
He rang his insurance company but during the call Charlie Woods hustled him away from the phone saying that the coach was leaving. Dalian, who tended to stutter, assured me that all was well.
His car was a nightmare to drive. It was splendid when going at speed but stalled in heavy traffic. On the outskirts of Sheffield it was dusk. Every button I pressed in an effort to find the lights simply changed the music.
Sheffield is built on seven hills. It was rush hour. I was almost at the top of a particularly steep hill when traffic ground to a halt. The hand brake did not work. I slid back into the car behind cracking one of its headlights.
I gave the other driver more than enough money for repairs. I did not want to lose my no claims bonus and had no idea of the details of Dalian’s insurance policy.
At the hotel I handed Dalian his car keys and told him about the accident. He did not believe me.
Then he asked if I would take his car to the ground the next day so that he could make a quick getaway to his international training.
I told him in no uncertain terms that I would never get into his car again. He had to get a taxi back to the hotel and to collect the car himself.
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