The Idealist of Aigburth

Long read

Ellis Coverdale is a man of principle. In a league where most managers would happily park a bus in front of their own goal for ninety minutes, Coverdale insists on the 4-2-3-1. He is an idealist, which is a polite way of saying he prefers the aesthetics of the game to the occasional indignity of a clean sheet.

He is 49 now. He has three titles to his name, which is enough to keep the board quiet during the rainy Tuesday nights, though perhaps not enough to stop the inevitable whispers from the North Stand. To be fair, those trophies are real things. They exist. They are likely gathering dust in a cabinet somewhere near the tea room.

His approach is all about progressive football. He wants attacking intent. He wants the ball moved with purpose. It is a lovely vision, really, provided the players actually remember where they are supposed to be standing. There is something quietly brave about sticking to a philosophy when your centre-back has the turning circle of a double-decker bus.

He manages Aigburth FC with the kind of steadfast devotion that suggests he genuinely believes the beautiful game can be solved like a crossword puzzle. It is a noble pursuit. Most of us just hope the winger remembers to cross it.

Still, there is a certain comfort in his rigidity. You know exactly what you are getting with Coverdale: high hopes, a commitment to the principle, and the lingering suspicion that the whole thing might collapse if a strong breeze hits the tactical board. Typical, really.