A Political Football

In the most public discussion of linguistics apart from Bill Clinton's use of the term "sexual relations" and Andrew Gilligan's ad-lib of "knowingly", the future of the England football coach may depend on the interpretation of three words: "This is nonsense."

Leaks from sources both friendly and hostile to Sven-Goran Eriksson suggest that this was his response when the Football Association told him of newspaper rumours that he had bedded an FA secretary. It seems that his employers may have taken this as a denial of having had sex with Faria Alam, while what the coach meant was that the intrusive questioning was nonsensical.

This would be consistent with Eriksson's claim in an official statement that he "at no time either categorically denied or confirmed" the relationship. And it would not be be the first time that such a misunderstanding had occurred. A political spin doctor once told me that, when young and naive, he had asked his candidate about rumours of bisexuality. He took the response - "I can't believe you're asking me that" - as a denial, but, when the tabloids found the other man, it turned out that the words had been a defence of reticence.

It's tempting to call Eriksson's use of language Clintonian, and the former US president is the public figure he most resembles in libido and lingo. But, whereas Bill's "sexual relations" depended on a most generous interpretation of what counts as sex, Sven's "This is nonsense" is a genuine double entendre. To bear his meaning perfectly, it would ideally have been "This is a nonsense" - but this was a man speaking in his second language.

And, if the comment did express outrage at the line of questioning, there was nothing disingenuous about it. Sven and his assistant, Tord Grip, genuinely fail to see sense in the obsession of the British press with his sex life. Culturally, the gap between Scandinavian liberalism and tolerance and the British newspapers' furious puritanism towards celebrities is as big a mismatch as England v Liechtenstein.

The argument of Sven's press enemies is that he has brought the FA into disrepute and abused a position of trust. But, as has been confirmed by the recent scandals involving David Beckham and Wayne Rooney, football is a sport that encourages sexual athleticism.

Although moralists might wish it otherwise, Sven's erotic adventures have probably improved rather than reduced his reputation with the testosterone-heavy young men he manages. And, unless his affair at the FA involved rape, coercion or harassment (which the woman's tabloid exclusive yesterday seems to make clear it did not) then there clearly is a case for privacy. Even the usual justification for sexual scrutiny of celebrities - that they have used their private life to build their image - clearly doesn't apply in this case as Sven has always made clear that his sex life was a penalty area for interviewers.

However, when Sven and Tord express bewilderment that the coach might be thrown out over matters unrelated to the game, they are missing the point; the newspapers calling for Sven's head are engaged in a displacement assassination. Driven almost crazy by Tony Blair's stubborn continuation in office - through Iraq, Hutton and Butler, heart scares and byelections - these titles have taken consolation in trying to pick off another public figure. The attack on Sven is politics by proxy.

Toppling this alternative boss will give a brief pleasure to frustrated newspapers, but the likely consequences would leave the media unable to claim even a draw: the coach would get millions in compensation and soon reappear in charge of a club, while England might have to begin a World Cup campaign with an unproven boss.

What has happened this week is that a standard created by the media to topple politicians is now being applied to a football manager. But, even in politics, the presumed connection between fidelity and efficiency was long ago disproved. In America's campaign 2004, the divorced John Kerry runs against an incumbent who is desperately trying to wrap himself in the mantle of a twice-married president, Ronald Reagan.

In football, as in politics, the record suggests that what is nicer for a wife has not been better for the country. The two most apparently uxorious recent England managers - Kevin Keegan and Graham Taylor - have been weakest on the field, while the more romantically chequered Bobby Robson, Terry Venables and now Sven have come much closer to winning cups.

For the FA, being battered into appointing someone who regards their wedding day as a more important date than 1966 would be bad husbandry of its money. If Eriksson is forced out, it should be because of his poor use of substitutes, not as a poor substitute for Tony Blair.