The night before Liverpool’s former owners faced the media for the first time at Anfield in February 2007, a meeting was held about the running order for business.
George Gillett, a junk bond millionaire, had initially been batted away from the club because he did not have deep enough pockets. To change his possibilities, he enlisted the help of Inner Circle Sports, an investment bank from New York City. Ultimately, the conversations sent him to Tom Hicks, someone he’d worked with before after they put money into a meat-packing company.
Hicks’ interest in Liverpool came relatively late, and because of this — according to one club official present at the time but who spoke to The Athletic on condition of anonymity to protect their current position — it was suggested that Gillett should field the earliest questions in the press conference. Hicks was having none of it. “I’ll go first,” he said. And he got his way.
It was an early indication that this marriage was never likely to last. Within a few months, the club was unofficially in the grip of a civil war, with the co-owners no longer on speaking terms.
Their reign staggered on for three agonising years before a High Court ruling led to another sale, this time to Fenway Sports Group (FSG), with the whole exercise just serving to underline how difficult it is to make co-ownership work in the high-stakes world of Premier League football.
George Gillett (left) and Tom Hicks unveil their plans for Liverpool in 2007 (Christopher Furlong/Getty Images)
All of which brings us to Chelsea, and the strife between co-owners Todd Boehly and Behdad Eghbali, of Clearlake Capital.
The London club’s fans may not appreciate the parallel, but they could do worse than look north if they wished to understand how and why things can go so wrong so quickly with joint owners.
In the Gillett role, you have Boehly. Both are American businessmen with pre-existing sporting interests (Gillett owned ice hockey’s Montreal Canadiens, Boehly part-owns baseball’s LA Dodgers) who were wealthy enough to control one of England’s biggest sporting institutions, but not quite rich enough to do that and fulfil those clubs’ vast ambitions.
The parallels don’t end there. Gillett only completed his takeover after other bidders failed. With Liverpool urgently needing money to fund a new stadium project, he returned with Hicks.
At Chelsea, it was only possible for Boehly to claim the club as his own because of money from Clearlake and Eghbali. And here, too, time was of the essence: the UK government had set a deadline of May 31, 2022 for Chelsea to be sold amid ongoing sanctions against the previous owner, Roman Abramovich, a Russian oligarch.
Since the takeover’s completion, Boehly has taken many of the headlines but Eghbali has played a big part in a lot of internal processes and decision-making. It was the same at Liverpool, where Hicks — despite being introduced to the club by Gillett — always tended to come first when their names were mentioned in tandem.
If anything, Liverpool’s ownership partners fell out even quicker than Chelsea’s. In Brian Reade’s book about the period, An Epic Swindle, he quotes an unnamed senior football executive and a Liverpool fan who met both owners individually.
“It was only two months into their joint ownership of the club but George was talking about his view versus his partner’s view. When I later had lunch with Tom and some of his American associates, I asked about the dynamics of their relationship. Tom shrugged and said, ‘You’d better ask him,’ pointing at a senior figure from Inner Circle Sports, who had brought the two together for the deal.”
From the beginning, there was a lack of understanding about who was really in charge at Liverpool. This stemmed from the fact each partner had an equal number of shares — a difference to Boehly and Clearlake, with the latter’s stake totalling 61.5 per cent and Boehly’s less than 13 per cent.
By December 2007, with further differences being exposed around whether to revamp Anfield or relocate from it — sound familiar, Chelsea fans? — Gillett had already started exploring an exit strategy, having realised he’d made a monumental mistake with his choice of partner.
The challenges of running a business in the meat industry were a little different to a football club the size of Liverpool: a responsibility that invites emotion, attention and criticism, with each factor testing a person’s ego. Those who dealt with Hicks — a brash Texan whose investment firm had initially made money in radio and soft drinks — suggest he had one as big as Mount Rushmore.
Personality clashes are often at the root of co-ownership implosions, although tensions are often strategic as much as personal.
Take Crystal Palace, probably the club whose current ownership issues most closely resemble Chelsea’s in the top flight.
In 2010, Palace were brought out of administration by a group of wealthy local supporters led by Steve Parish. After an unexpected promotion to the Premier League in 2013 and a couple of seasons of struggle, the ownership model changed, with Parish seeking outside investment from America in the form of private equity tycoons Josh Harris and David Blitzer, who bought stakes in 2015, and John Textor, who purchased around 40 per cent of the club six years later. His stake has since crept up to 45 per cent.
John Textor wants full control of a Premier League club (Wagner Meier/Getty Images)
Despite their vastly differing-sized stakes, Parish, Textor, Harris and Blitzer all have an equal voting share, which is a problem given the strategic differences between them.
Parish, who runs Palace day to day, wants to follow a long-term sustainable economic model, based around infrastructure improvements, while Textor is keen to attack the transfer market and take advantage of the other elements of his Eagle Football multi-club model (he also owns Ligue 1 club Olympique Lyon, Brazil’s Botafogo and Belgian side RWD Molenbeek). Blitzer and Harris seem happy, by and large, to retain the status quo.
It would be stretching it to claim Palace are in the grip of a Chelsea-style civil war, but the strategic impasse effectively means the club is stuck — hence why Textor is now trying to sell his Palace stake and buy Everton, which Farhad Moshiri has been trying to sell for a couple of years.
Officially, Moshiri has been the sole owner of Everton since 2016 when he displaced the late Bill Kenwright, who stayed on as chairman. Although Kenwright’s power was gone, he remained influential and a high-profile presence around the club, a point which created its own issues. His views did not always align with Moshiri, notably around decisions such as sacking manager Roberto Martinez in 2016 and around some transfers, and the result was barely-controlled chaos.
There was, perhaps, something similar at play with Newcastle United and the recent departures of Amanda Staveley and Mehrdad Ghodoussi — the couple who helped secure the club’s Saudi Arabian-backed takeover in 2021.
Amanda Staveley and Mehrdad Ghodoussi watching Newcastle United in August 2023 (Stu Forster/Getty Images)
At that point, there was no sporting director or CEO at the club, so Staveley and Ghodoussi assumed responsibility for those areas until an executive team was eventually put in place, becoming the public faces of the club’s executive team. But their influence was belied by their 10 per cent ownership stake.
Ultimately, once those pre-existing vacancies had been filled, there was a sense of too many competing voices and, in that scenario, there was only ever going to be one winner.
Will the same thing happen at Manchester United? INEOS and the Glazer family have never worked together before. Sir Jim Ratcliffe has had much influence over the club since his investment but it will be interesting to see what sort of pressure he is subjected to internally if results on the pitch continue.
Co-ownership structures can be a success, but only — it would seem — when the partnerships are not flung together simply through circumstance. Wrexham’s duo of Ryan Reynolds and Rob McElhenney seem to have found a way to work in harmony, although if their project ever reaches the Premier League, with all the attendant scrutiny and financial demands, that partnership could come under renewed scrutiny.
Who knows where Chelsea will be by then? Either way, the chances of Boehly and Egbhali still being in partnership seem minimal.
(Top photos: Getty Images)
https://www.nytimes.com/athletic/5747279/2024/09/10/chelsea-owners-civil-war/
