The Global Elite Is Taking over Sport全球精英正接管体坛

西蒙·库珀 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.

当温特沃斯高尔夫俱乐部的球友们听说，他们得支付10万英镑会费才能保留这家古老的英国俱乐部会员资格时，许多人都震惊不已。他们不应如此。温特沃斯新东家的要求体现了当代的一个事实，体育圈内外皆如是：一切光鲜美好的事物正被1%的精英接管。

20世纪90年代，商业电视巨头鲁伯特·默多克和西尔维奥·贝卢斯科尼发现了体育赛事现场直播的魅力，自此大量资金开始涌入欧洲体育界。足球曾被视作工人阶级的运动，暴力而肮脏，却在这场投资中获益最大。足球场焕然一新，球票价格水涨船高。在许多小城里，比赛日的足球俱乐部休息室取代了扶轮社，成为了当地商人的聚集地。2000年，曼联时任队长罗伊·基恩抱怨主场的富商观众只顾着狼吞虎咽对虾三明治而无暇顾及赛况，此后，这群富商球迷就有了“对虾三明治大队”的称号。

今天，这类球迷更适合被称作“鱼子酱俄式煎饼大队”。20世纪90年代中产阶级化之后，体育如今正在富豪化。这不是因为体育本身已成为大生意。

虽然体育运动本身也许算不上大生意，但体育场现在已成为谈大生意的地方。1%的精英们达成了国际阶级阵线，他们喜欢聚在大城市里那些融娱乐、餐饮和社交于一体的娱乐场所。试问还有比体育场更好的选择吗？

打个比方，要与法国总统候选人尼古拉·萨科齐会面，奔着巴黎圣日耳曼主场的某间贵宾接待室去就对了。而假若想在一个地方与数十位全球商业领袖会面，要么去参加在滑雪胜地达沃斯召开的世界经济论坛会议，要么去奥运会或世界杯足球赛赛场。即使那些不喜欢运动的领袖也会在这些地方闲聊拉关系。

法国现在推出策略，积极参与各大国际体育赛事的承办竞标，部分原因就是法国也希望在体育场上谈成的生意中分一杯羹。体育话题的闲谈减少了精英们社交的尴尬，也使精英与普通人互动起来更加自然。连戴维·卡梅伦都不得不假装成足球迷，不过上一次竞选活动中他当众忘记自己支持的是阿斯顿维拉还是西汉姆了。

体育运动的富豪化正引发民众的愤怒情绪。在阿森纳与拜仁慕尼黑对战前，拜仁球迷对门票价格提出了抗议。阿森纳俱乐部的球票可能是足球界最贵的门票了，即便最便宜的赛季套票也要1014英镑，这可能与该俱乐部靠近伦敦金融城有关。

球票价格高昂确实是个尴尬的问题，因为球赛的一大卖点就是对往昔工人阶级岁月的怀旧。球赛不可能与豪华旅游业一样明目张胆地只对1%的精英人群开放，因为这与其“品牌价值”冲突。因此，与阿森纳的比赛结束后，本人也是千万富翁的拜仁主教练佩普·瓜迪奥拉承诺道：“我们将在慕尼黑主场以优惠的价格照顾阿森纳球迷。”而退役球员加里·内维尔和瑞恩·吉格斯让无家可归的流浪汉在他们筹建的曼彻斯特豪华酒店里过冬，或许也是想要表现足球的本源。

这是一种善意的表示。然而，这无法掩盖现实中新出现的那1%。两名退役球员买下原曼彻斯特证券交易所并将其改造成豪华酒店，这在25年前还是无法想象的。与此同时，瓜迪奥拉所在俱乐部的监管委员会可能是德国所有机构的监管委员会中最富有的，成员包括德国电信、阿迪达斯和奥迪的首席执行官，以及离职的大众前首席执行官、丑闻缠身的马丁·温特科恩。

1%的精英与传统球迷是有直接冲突的。那是因为顶级运动惠及的人数有限。只有6万人能亲临球场一睹阿森纳与拜仁的对决盛况，而能成为温特沃斯会员的人就更少了。正如我们在温特沃斯所见，现如今最高出价者有机会亲密接触某项运动。富人们愿意花高价进入顶级场馆运动，与知名运动员和教练会面，或者至少听听他们发表的“商业演讲”，通常这种演讲的主题是“团队中没有个人的‘我’”。前曼联主教练亚历克斯·弗格森爵士是这个新兴行业中最抢手的人物，尽管目前还没有多少证据表明他能把自己的管理才能传授给其他人。他现在任教于哈佛商学院，而能与他面对面也正是哈佛商学院为其学生提供的一项特权——曼联球迷中有能力享受到的寥寥无几。

简言之，足球正在回归19世纪发轫之时的上流社会。但是体育运动中有一样东西是金钱无法买到的。英国作家P. G.伍德豪斯曾这样描述高尔夫运动：“有治国之才的人却无法控制一个白色的小球，而这连一个脑容量和布谷鸟自鸣钟差不多的人可能都不难办到。”最優秀的运动员还将来自贫困阶层，因为要想非常擅长一项运动，需要从童年起就近乎毫不间断地练习，远离家庭作业、节假日或者小提琴课等的干扰。1%的精英们只能当当观众了。                                       □

（译者为“《英语世界》杯”翻译大赛获奖者）