As Roman Abramovich is finally sanctioned the questions stack up. Such as: why did it take so long for the government to acknowledge officially the Chelsea owner's links with the murderous tyrant in the Kremlin? And: how do the legions of city lawyers who have protected him from legitimate scrutiny for the past 20 years sleep at night? (Presumably on very expensive beds purchased with his fees). Plus: have the football authorities at last appreciated that allowing the sale of a significant cultural asset to a businessman irredeemably bonded to a despot might not be the brightest of ideas? (Are you watching Newcastle)?
But the more pressing question is this: what now happens to Chelsea? If the money that has propelled them upwards for the last twenty years has now been deemed to be stained with the blood of the citizens of Kyiv, Mariupol and Odessa, not to forget Aleppo, Tblisi and Grozny, will there be any direct repercussions? Not just in terms of restrictions on ticket, merchandise and player sales. But on the pitch. After all, fans of Derby County, Reading, Bolton, Portsmouth and the rest have all seen the consequences of dodgy finance played out in point deductions and subsequent relegation scraps. In Scotland, Rangers were obliged to start again at the bottom of the league pyramid as soon as the full range of their monetary mismanagement became apparent. And, for all their interesting political allegiances, as far as we are aware no one at Ibrox was supporting a maternity-hospital-bombing despot.
Thus far, the only indication we have of the Premier League's approach to punishment is that, were the restrictions imposed by the government to become so stringent that it meant the club was obliged to go into administration, then they would suffer the standard nine-point deduction from the league total. But is that enough? Is there not an argument for a substantial deduction to be made immediately? True, give or take the odd Financial Fair Play misdemeanour, in his time Abramovich did not break the rules as they stood. But what his friend is doing in Ukraine has put everything into fresh perspective. Surely the scale of his financial doping is such that further action is not only appropriate but morally essential. If the owner is now deemed a pariah, the actions he has taken during his time in control have been cast into a fresh and more illuminating light.
For sure, it can be plausibly argued that such a penalty will mean nothing to the ultimate target of any restriction: Abramovich himself. His association with the club is over. He cannot accrue any benefit from its sale. He will never again be able to watch Chelsea in action in England. So, given the substantial assault on his pocket, why would knocking league points off the team do any good? Rather, the ones to suffer would be the players, staff and fans, who cannot be held responsible for the owner's assumed malfeasance.
Except that claim holds good for any punishment for breaking the money rules: the damage is always largely collateral. Bolton fans were not remotely responsible for the reckless behaviour of the club's previous owner, but they were the ones obliged to watch their team sink down the divisions as a result of what he did. At Derby, the supporters did not spend way beyond their means: that was the previous owner. Yet, because of the concomitant points deduction, they are required to watch their team scrabble to avoid relegation to the third tier, their support tested to its limit.
Chelsea's fans, even those embarrassing themselves by singing Abramovich's name during the minute's applause for Ukraine at Turf Moor last weekend, cannot be reckoned accessories for the unsavoury dealings of their club's owner. Yet they would be the ones most hurt by such action.
Chelsea's fans, even those embarrassing themselves by singing Abramovich's name during the minute's applause for Ukraine at Turf Moor last weekend, cannot be reckoned accessories for the unsavoury dealings of their club's owner. Yet they would be the ones most hurt by such action.
