A Question of Value: Alan Green and the BBC

An Indispensable Asset?

During England’s otherwise forgettable friendly against Slovenia, a jocular comment from Graham Taylor to his co-commentator Alan Green - “You do say some stupid things sometimes, Alan” - resulted in a reported off-air warning. By the time England faced Croatia in a far more important fixture, Taylor was gone, replaced in the commentary box by Chris Waddle. For a publicly funded broadcaster facing, like all media organisations, significant budgetary limitations, the decision to demote an accomplished pundit at the behest of its lead commentator raises serious questions of governance. Every time Alan Green demands something, the BBC seems to comply, but the justification for indulging one highly-paid employee to such a degree is becoming increasingly difficult to see.

This is hardly the first time Green’s behaviour has placed his employers in an awkward position. In 2004, the media watchdog Ofcom censured the commentator for remarks about Manchester United’s Eric Djemba-Djemba. The BBC defended the comments as “irreverent banter” and described Green as a “campaigning anti-racist”. This defence seemed questionable to listeners who had heard him refer to Chinese defender Sun Jihai with the line: “Number 17 - that’ll be the Chicken Chow Mein, then.”

Later, he speculated that a limousine parked outside Goodison Park for Sylvester Stallone during an Everton versus Reading match might end up on bricks. While the gag later appeared on Have I Got News For You without similar controversy, the pattern of behaviour invites questions about the standards expected of senior broadcast personnel.

A Diminishing Return

Putting aside matters of taste, the core issue for the BBC is one of professional competence and value for money. Green is handsomely rewarded to be at the top of his profession, yet his performance often falls short of basic requirements. During that same Everton-Reading game, he spent nearly two minutes setting up a joke about watching paint dry. While he was occupied, Reading scored. Listeners had to rely on the summariser to describe Joleon Lescott’s part in the goal. It is a recurring theme. His frequent query, “What happened there?”, is not the endearing rhetorical flourish of a Fred Trueman but a genuine admission of ignorance.

His summarisers, from the respected Jimmy Armfield to Graham Taylor himself, are often required to explain events that have passed the main commentator by. Even Mark Lawrenson, seemingly employed to laugh at Green’s jokes, must occasionally fill in the blanks. When Manchester United deployed a trick corner against Chelsea last season, Green remained baffled long after his co-commentator had patiently explained the manoeuvre, seemingly too self-absorbed to listen.

The argument that Green provides a unique, controversial voice that justifies his status no longer holds water. His complaints about referees seeking attention are deeply ironic, and his constant refrain of “isn’t this dreadful?” has lost any freshness it once had. He provokes debate, certainly, but he may alienate as many licence fee payers as he attracts, resulting in a neutral commercial impact at best. For an organisation tasked with providing public service value, employing a commentator who struggles to describe the action is a questionable use of resources.

Accountability Deficit

Perhaps the most glaring example of a breakdown in professional standards came during England’s World Cup qualifier against Kazakhstan last year. Green was permitted to travel to the game on the Saturday, exempt from the requirement for other BBC staff to be present for Friday’s pre-match preparations. His flight was delayed by fog.

Consequently, Alan Green missed the entire first half of the match he was paid to commentate on.

There was no apparent punishment for this failure. In any other profession, arriving 45 minutes late for a critical assignment would have serious consequences. At the BBC, it seems, certain individuals operate under a different set of rules. As budgets tighten and every pound of the licence fee is scrutinised, the continued employment and indulgence of an individual who appears both unaccountable and frequently incompetent feels not just untenable, but a failure of governance.

Why is one employee permitted to dictate staffing, miss key moments of play, and turn up late for international fixtures without sanction?