The Global Elite Is Taking over Sport全球精英正接管體壇

西蒙·庫珀 曾逸

When Wentworth’s golfers heard that they would have to pay a fee of ￡100，000 or lose their membership of the ancient English club， many were shocked. They should not have been. The demand from Wentworth’s new owners expresses a contemporary truth， in sport as well as beyond： everything glorious is being taken over by the 1 per cent.

Money began pouring into European sport only in the 1990s， when commercial television magnates Rupert Murdoch and Silvio Berlusconi discovered the lure of live action. Football， previously considered violent， grubby and working-class， benefited most. Stadiums were spruced up. Ticket prices rose， and in many provincial towns， the lounge of the local football club on match day replaced the Rotary Club1 as the gathering-place of the town’s businesspeople. In 2000， these new fans became known as the “prawn sandwich brigade”， after Manchester United’s then captain， Roy Keane， complained that the club’s home crowds were too busy scoffing said sandwiches to follow the game.

Today it is more of a caviar-blini brigade： after the gentrification of the 1990s， we are now seeing the plutocratisation of sport. This is not because sport has become big business.

While sport may not be big business， it is now a venue where big business meets. The 1 per cent displays an international class solidarity. Its members like to gather in convivial spots in big cities， mingling play， food and networking. Where better than a sports stadium？

If you want to meet the French presidential candidate Nicolas Sarkozy， for instance， head for one of the VIP salons at Paris Saint-Germain’s stadium. To meet dozens of global business leaders in one place， either go to the World Economic Forum meeting in the ski resort of Davos， or to an Olympics or a football World Cup. Even leaders who do not like sport will be there to schmooze.

France now has a strategy of bidding for every big international sports event， partly because it wants a slice of the business that gets done at the stadium. Sports chatter helps smooth the awkwardness of elite networking， and of elite interactions with ordinary Joes2， to the point where even David Cameron has to pretend to be a football fan， although in the last election campaign he publicly forgot whether he supports Aston Villa or West Ham.

The plutocratisation of sport is causing irritations. Before Arsenal-Bayern Munich game， Bayern fans protested against the ticket prices. Arsenal’s tickets （the cheapest season ticket is ￡1，014） are probably the most expensive in global football， partly because the club is close to the City of London.

This is an awkward issue， since one thing that football still sells is nostalgia for a working-class past. The game cannot become unabashedly 1 per cent， like the luxury travel sector， because that would clash with its “brand values”. And so， after the Arsenal game， Bayern’s manager Pep Guardiola， himself of course a multimillionaire， promised： “We will take care of Arsenal fans in Munich with a good price.” A similar desire to appear in touch with football’s roots may have motivated ex-players Gary Neville and Ryan Giggs to let homeless squatters stay in their planned luxury hotel in Manchester over the winter.

It was a kind gesture. However， it cannot disguise the new 1 per cent reality. That two ex-footballers are converting the former Manchester Stock Exchange into a luxury hotel would have been unthinkable just 25 years ago. Meanwhile， Mr Guardiola’s club boasts possibly the wealthiest supervisory board of any institution in Germany， featuring the chief executives of Deutsche Telekom， Adidas and Audi plus the departed chief executive of Volkswagen， scandal-tainted Martin Winterkorn.

The 1 per cent and traditional fans are in direct conflict here. That is because top-level sport is a limited good. Only 60，000 people can watch Arsenal-Bayern， and even fewer can become a member of Wentworth. As we are seeing at Wentworth， the most intimate access now goes to the highest bidders. Rich people are prepared to pay a lot to play sport at top venues， and to meet famous athletes and coaches — or at least to hear them give “business speeches”， usually on the theme of there being “no ‘I’ in team”. The former Manchester United manager Sir Alex Ferguson is the most sought-after figure in this budding industry， even if there is little evidence as yet that he can convey his managerial genius to anyone else. Harvard Business School， where he now teaches， is effectively offering students the perk of meeting him—something that few United fans can afford.

Football， in short， is returning to its 19th-century origins as an upper-class game. But there is one thing in sport that money cannot buy. “Men capable of governing empires，” wrote the British author PG Wodehouse about golf， “fail to control a small white ball， which presents no difficulties whatever to others with one ounce more brain than a cuckoo clock.” The best athletes will still come from the poorer classes， because to become very good at a sport， you need to spend your childhood playing it almost nonstop without distractions， like homework， holidays or violin lessons. All the 1 per cent can do is watch.

當溫特沃斯高爾夫俱樂部的球友們聽說，他們得支付10萬英鎊會費才能保留這家古老的英國俱樂部會員資格時，許多人都震驚不已。他們不應如此。溫特沃斯新東家的要求體現了當代的一個事實，體育圈內外皆如是：一切光鮮美好的事物正被1%的精英接管。

20世紀90年代，商業電視巨頭魯伯特·默多克和西爾維奧·貝盧斯科尼發現了體育賽事現場直播的魅力，自此大量資金開始涌入歐洲體育界。足球曾被視作工人階級的運動，暴力而骯臟，卻在這場投資中獲益最大。足球場煥然一新，球票價格水漲船高。在許多小城里，比賽日的足球俱樂部休息室取代了扶輪社，成為了當地商人的聚集地。2000年，曼聯時任隊長羅伊·基恩抱怨主場的富商觀眾只顧著狼吞虎咽對蝦三明治而無暇顧及賽況，此后，這群富商球迷就有了“對蝦三明治大隊”的稱號。

今天，這類球迷更適合被稱作“魚子醬俄式煎餅大隊”。20世紀90年代中產階級化之后，體育如今正在富豪化。這不是因為體育本身已成為大生意。

雖然體育運動本身也許算不上大生意，但體育場現在已成為談大生意的地方。1%的精英們達成了國際階級陣線，他們喜歡聚在大城市里那些融娛樂、餐飲和社交于一體的娛樂場所。試問還有比體育場更好的選擇嗎？

打個比方，要與法國總統候選人尼古拉·薩科齊會面，奔著巴黎圣日耳曼主場的某間貴賓接待室去就對了。而假若想在一個地方與數十位全球商業領袖會面，要么去參加在滑雪勝地達沃斯召開的世界經濟論壇會議，要么去奧運會或世界杯足球賽賽場。即使那些不喜歡運動的領袖也會在這些地方閑聊拉關系。

法國現在推出策略，積極參與各大國際體育賽事的承辦競標，部分原因就是法國也希望在體育場上談成的生意中分一杯羹。體育話題的閑談減少了精英們社交的尷尬，也使精英與普通人互動起來更加自然。連戴維·卡梅倫都不得不假裝成足球迷，不過上一次競選活動中他當眾忘記自己支持的是阿斯頓維拉還是西漢姆了。

體育運動的富豪化正引發民眾的憤怒情緒。在阿森納與拜仁慕尼黑對戰前，拜仁球迷對門票價格提出了抗議。阿森納俱樂部的球票可能是足球界最貴的門票了，即便最便宜的賽季套票也要1014英鎊，這可能與該俱樂部靠近倫敦金融城有關。

球票價格高昂確實是個尷尬的問題，因為球賽的一大賣點就是對往昔工人階級歲月的懷舊。球賽不可能與豪華旅游業一樣明目張膽地只對1%的精英人群開放，因為這與其“品牌價值”沖突。因此，與阿森納的比賽結束后，本人也是千萬富翁的拜仁主教練佩普·瓜迪奧拉承諾道：“我們將在慕尼黑主場以優惠的價格照顧阿森納球迷。”而退役球員加里·內維爾和瑞恩·吉格斯讓無家可歸的流浪漢在他們籌建的曼徹斯特豪華酒店里過冬，或許也是想要表現足球的本源。

這是一種善意的表示。然而，這無法掩蓋現實中新出現的那1%。兩名退役球員買下原曼徹斯特證券交易所并將其改造成豪華酒店，這在25年前還是無法想象的。與此同時，瓜迪奧拉所在俱樂部的監管委員會可能是德國所有機構的監管委員會中最富有的，成員包括德國電信、阿迪達斯和奧迪的首席執行官，以及離職的大眾前首席執行官、丑聞纏身的馬丁·溫特科恩。

1%的精英與傳統球迷是有直接沖突的。那是因為頂級運動惠及的人數有限。只有6萬人能親臨球場一睹阿森納與拜仁的對決盛況，而能成為溫特沃斯會員的人就更少了。正如我們在溫特沃斯所見，現如今最高出價者有機會親密接觸某項運動。富人們愿意花高價進入頂級場館運動，與知名運動員和教練會面，或者至少聽聽他們發表的“商業演講”，通常這種演講的主題是“團隊中沒有個人的‘我’”。前曼聯主教練亞歷克斯·弗格森爵士是這個新興行業中最搶手的人物，盡管目前還沒有多少證據表明他能把自己的管理才能傳授給其他人。他現在任教于哈佛商學院，而能與他面對面也正是哈佛商學院為其學生提供的一項特權——曼聯球迷中有能力享受到的寥寥無幾。

簡言之，足球正在回歸19世紀發軔之時的上流社會。但是體育運動中有一樣東西是金錢無法買到的。英國作家P. G.伍德豪斯曾這樣描述高爾夫運動：“有治國之才的人卻無法控制一個白色的小球，而這連一個腦容量和布谷鳥自鳴鐘差不多的人可能都不難辦到。”最優秀的運動員還將來自貧困階層，因為要想非常擅長一項運動，需要從童年起就近乎毫不間斷地練習，遠離家庭作業、節假日或者小提琴課等的干擾。1%的精英們只能當當觀眾了。? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?□

（譯者為“《英語世界》杯”翻譯大賽獲獎者）