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FWA Interview: Ian Ladyman

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By CHRISTOPHER DAVIES

MEMBERS of the Football Writers’ Association have praised the press facilities at Euro 2012.

Not only is the entertainment on the pitch first class in Poland an Ukraine, Ian Ladyman, northern football correspondent of the Daily Mail, said: “There have been no complaints about the facilities out here.”
Ladyman has covered games in Warsaw, Kiev where he is based, Kharkiv, Donetsk and Lviv. He said: “The broadband is wired in both the press rooms and the press boxes. No passwords are needed, you just get a cable, put it in your lap-top and you are on line straight away. This is much more reliable than a wireless connection where you can lose the wi-fi. I was in Donetsk on Friday for the Ukraine v France game which was delayed for an hour…Friday night deadlines are always tighter and then the match was put back an hour because of the weather…the last thing a reporter needs to do is to worry about whether he’s going to be able to file.”
Magnificent as the stadium in Donetsk is, it is open to the elements with no shelter for the press box which was not good news when the heavens opened on Friday. “We were given plastic sheets to put over our lap-tops which kept them dry but it meant you couldn’t see the screen. Maybe it doesn’t rain very often in Donetsk in the summer but whether it’s a shower or a thunderstorm the press box will get wet.”
This is a problem also encountered at some English stadiums and while football writers do not expect luxurious working conditions, they need a roof or cover over what is their work place like others who use computers, telephones and notepads.
Ladyman continued: “There are television monitors in the press box, usually one set per four journalists while all the usual UEFA statistics are on hand. The headphone translations at press conferences have worked well.”
The mixed zone, where players – if they wish – can speak to the press after matches have been, according to Ladyman “less mental” without the South American media. “But I wish the authorities would section off the written media and radio and TV. We still have the situation where a player comes over to talk to us and suddenly a radio mike is thrust in his face, so what he says could be broadcast to the world. But that’s a small gripe, the mixed zones have been OK and the players have been pretty good at talking to us.”
Most teams have players who, win or lose, are media friendly with the usual suspects believing it is not part of their duty to speak to the press and by extension, the fans.
Ladyman was particularly impressed by Sweden when he went to their training camp with David McDonnell (Daily Mirror) and James Ducker (Times) the day after they had lost to Ukraine.
“It was in the middle of nowhere, it took us two hours to find so we were a little late for the press conference. But we were able to ask the two players put up questions in English and we chatted to [ex-Bolton striker] Johan Elmander in a sort of mixed zone after the Swedish press officer asked him to do something with the English media. That was very helpful considering they had lost the night before.”
Ladyman’s biggest criticism is the lack of hot food at media centres. “I know many share this view – when you are there for five or six hours, even longer, it is very frustrating that there is virtually no catering. I’ve covered three World Cups and this is my second European Championship and this the the first time I’ve had this problem. Previously there has always been some hot food available but here it’s been pretty lamentable.
“In Warsaw and Kiev there is what they call a McDonald’s cafe but all that’s available is really smoothies and salad. On the UEFA web site it says under facilities that there will be a restaurant at each venue where you can get hot food. That is not the case. At Kharkiv and Donetsk there weren’t even sandwiches, we were just offered cake or a muffin. That’s not enough when you are there for so long. Given how big and powerful UEFA are these days, I don’t know why they couldn’t arrange for a big pot of spaghetti bolognese for the media. We’d happily pay for it.
“Games in Ukraine, where there is a two-hour time-difference, don’t start until a quarter to ten at night. By the time the match is finished it’s almost midnight and then there are press conferences and mixed zones before writing the re-write. We’re still in the stadium at 2am.”
A game of two days but all UEFA do is to let football writers eat cake.
Ladyman’s travel between venues has been by air, eliminating the problems of cross-border train journeys which have caused fans such delays. One aspect of Euro 2012 that affects everybody is the cost of accommodation with hotels averaging out at £200 per night. “They actually cost £120 a night but when there is a game on it’s £400 which ups the average. In many cities, if you want to see a game they insist you pay for three nights.”
One newspaper – we’ll spare them public embarrassment by not naming them – was left with a bill for £500 for one night in a hotel that was not used. When the thunderstorm arrived in Donetsk on Friday and it looked at one stage that the Ukraine v France match would be delayed 24 hours the newspaper panicked and jumped the gun by booking a hotel for their reporter for an extra day. It was non-refundable.
Ladyman gave the press facilities 8/10 – his main beef, excuse the pun, the lack of hot food.

Patrick Barclay: My Week

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PATRICK BARCLAY, Evening Standard and Independent on Sunday columnist, on sleep deprivation…video diaries…and a wedding invitation…

Monday June 11
What made me think this was a good idea? It’s 1.17am and I’m on a distinctly chilly platform at Poznan’s central railway station, wondering why someone designed the back-to-benches without backs. Sitting up rigid is to be the order of a long night following Ireland’s opening defeat by Croatia, but I don’t know this as, naively envisaging a few hours of sleep on the 2.06 back to Warsaw, I hang my restless head. A cry from across the tracks makes me look up. There’s an old drunk on an office chair. He’s tiny and the chair is clearly designed for a very senior executive. On a small table by his left hand is a can of beer. Mainly the drunk warbles but every now and again he squawks raucously at the passengers opposite. Now he’s going to attempt an expedition. He wriggles to the edge of the seat and hops to the ground. The Irish supporters milling around the station entrance have inadvertently given him an idea. It involves a request for a light for his cigarette. A stout female officer breaks clear from a group of police and intercepts him. Gently. After a mild protest, he returns to the chair and clambers aboard once more, taking a consoling sip of beer. The Polish police can look fierce but have seemed to control the Euro 2012 crowds – the thugs apart – with tact. The old man knows he can try it on again later. He’s smiling. So is the officer as her wagging finger indicates he should stay put for a while. Even I am smiling now. Eventually the train rolls in and there are five burly Poles in my six-seat compartment. They like being woken up about as much as you’d expect. My sleep, when it comes, is in 10-minute parcels. At one stage, I swear the minute hand of my watch has actually gone back. Tottering off at Warsaw, I realise there’s time to get back to the apartment and have a brief kip before writing the Evening Standard column. Bliss! And writing the column isn’t that bad either. I enjoy working with the Standard’s sports editor, Tim Nichols. He’s one of the best I’ve ever worked with and that’s saying something when the list includes Simon Kelner, Charlie Burgess, Alan Hubbard, John Samuel, Colin Gibson and the – for me- incomparable Jon Ryan.

Tuesday June 12
A busy day, involving a last-minute change to my video diary for the Independent website – sometimes you have to reinvent yourself and, if you try it at 64, workmates are bound to see the funny side – and a column on England’s draw with France for Fox Soccer in the United States culminates in Poland v Russia at Warsaw’s gorgeous crown-shaped National Stadium by the river. I’m based in Warsaw for the duration and the stadium media centre is my office. It’s just a matter of taking the lift to the gods, where the media seats are situated, half an hour before kick-off. The atmosphere is electric – comparable with Liverpool v Chelsea in the Champions League in 2005 – and it turns out to be a riveting match, a 1-1 draw. Being a football reporter is a privilege on nights like this and I hit the sack not at all caring that the wake-up call is at 3.30am.

Wednesday June 13
It’s 3.30am and, God, I hate this job. It’s a chilly journey to the Central Station. The train to Gdansk leaves at 5.12 and the station cafés aren’t open. At least there are six hours on the train in which to write the Standard column and a piece for a new magazine to be launched next month by Ken Monkou, the former Chelsea central defender. It’s an interview with the actor and comedian Omid Djalili, whom I met shortly before the flight to Warsaw. He couldn’t have been more helpful and, not for the first time, a football writer reflected on how much more civilised journalism can be when you step outside football. At night I was able to watch two matches while sinking food and a few pints.

Thursday June 14
Another day of hard work, to which the Standard added with a request for a piece about David Moyes’s suitability for the post created at Spurs by Harry Redknapp’s departure, ends with more lovely football, played by Spain in the rain that lashed 20,000 magnificent Ireland supporters. Fernando Torres scores twice and it’s four and could have been double figures. Shay Given makes a candidate for save of the tournament. A Dutch journalist mate invites me to join him on a drive back to Warsaw, which saves a bit of precious time.

Friday June 15
A scramble to get the latest video diary together in time for the Indy’s mid-morning audience. It’s successful thanks to a fine contribution from Andy Gray and Richard Keys, whose talkSPORT radio show I’d appeared on earlier in the week; it’s been transplanted from London to a flat in Warsaw near the stadium. Gray and Keys helped to preview the night’s match between Sweden and England, which I ended the day watching on television in my local bar in the old part of town, near the little flat that is home.

Saturday June 16
You know me: I never like to complain. That’s why I haven’t mentioned this before. But I’ve had this cough for at least two weeks and it’s getting worse. It’s getting so bad that, when I wake up this morning, I’m worried that the people next door are going to complain. So I ask the landlord, Jacek, who’s quickly become more of a mate really and introduced me to the rest of the good ol’ boys in the bar, and he drives me to his doctor and she’s got such a lovely smile and easy manner that I’m feeling better even before I start on the four drugs she prescribes. A feature on Jogi Lowe and the Germans for the Independent on Sunday fills the afternoon and then it’s up into the gods again for Greece v Russia. You can’t help but admire the Greeks, who win but are horribly deprived of their captain, Giorgos Karagounis, for the quarter-final as he is shown a yellow card for the heinous crime of being tripped in the penalty area. It’s wrong that referees are asked to be mind-readers. When they err in such situations, insult is added to injury and, on the whole, I’d prefer it if cautions for diving were abolished.

Sunday June 17
It’s virtually a day off. But I’ve wasted most of it sleeping. (A few of us decided to unwind after the Greece match. We found somewhere about 1am but initially it turned us away because there was a wedding party on. Upon being given the impression that we were about to burst into tears, the staff relented and set up a table for us in the square opposite. I don’t know how we found our way into the wedding party but it happened and I ended up among the last four in the bar at 6am. The others were the bride and groom. Their condition – immaculate – contrasted with ours and, when the staff finally ushered us out, my expression of hope that we had behaved ourselves, intended light-heartedly, was met by a thin smile and an enigmatic: ‘’It was a mistake.’’ If nothing else, I remember those words. Perturbing.) There are two concurrent matches at night to keep an eye on – Portugal v Holland and Denmark v Germany – and because the bar has tellies in opposite corners showing one each I’m sitting like Marty Feldman. But having a pint in your hand – or half-litre, which is just as well because Polish beer seems to start at 5.5 – does the experience no harm. It’s a hair of the dog that bit me. But I’m going to drink responsibly from now on.