What’s wrong with me? After successive newsletters that did The Popular Thing on the left-leaning social media platform, Bluesky (on Britain’s cruel visa regime, then on the Democrats’ historic midterm win), I find myself itching to dissent.
I could praise the Conservative Party’s recent inheritance tax wheeze by way of highlighting the left’s difficulty in grasping the natural desire of parents to pass on wealth and associated security to their children. But the specifics of the policy — taking the family home out of the scope of the tax — mean it would largely serve to further gum up the housing market by incentivising people to purchase the biggest, most expensive house they can possibly afford and never, ever downsize.
So, I’ve concluded it’s time to go hard or go home. By which I mean, throw up a makeshift wall around two men whose names have long since become shorthand for outdated and tone-deaf opinion. A pair almost universally regarded as crusty relics of a less enlightened era: Richard Keys and Andy Gray.
Hear me out. It’s less about them than the sheer whimsy of what came next.
You don’t save those
For the avoidance of doubt, Sky Sports was absolutely right to dismiss Gray (Keys resigned), after leaked footage emerged in 2011 of the pair making derogatory comments about assistant referee Sian Massey, former referee Wendy Toms and then West Ham executive, Karren Brady. This was in addition to other incidents involving female colleagues.
I still remember where I was when, days later, Keys appeared on talkSPORT, nominally to apologise for his remarks but ending up… look, I’m no crisis comms merchant, but car crash does not even begin to describe the 12-truck pile-up. By all means, enjoy.
Then there are the pair’s frankly eccentric obsessions: Mikel Arteta’s proximity to the manager’s technical area, their self-appointed roles as goal celebration police and love of all things old-school and real football men: think Sean Dyche (“Dychey”) playing 4-4-2, putting a shift in and getting crosses in the box.
In short, they don’t help themselves. And as a result, they have become fair game for the newer generation of pundits. Most notably, the Football Clichés podcast has its very own “Keys and Gray corner” in which one or both come in for, let’s face it, well-earned mockery.
But the Keys and Gray revisionism, like League Two centre-halves trying to play it out from the back, has gone too far.
Changing formations
The modern football media landscape has evolved alongside the game itself. More cerebral, tactical and fan-influenced. Whether you want to learn about the difference between a low block and a high press or just listen to the goings on at your own club, football supporters have never had it so good. But it’s easy to overlook how integral and, yes, far-sighted, Keys and especially Gray were by the standards of 1990s football broadcasting.
While the BBC’s Match of the Day contained a few minutes of solo commentator highlights followed by Alan Hansen blaming the defence and Mark Lawrenson calling for referees to show some common sense (the next week, the demand would be for consistency), Gray was an early adopter of technology.
From Andy Gray’s Boot Room to Monday Night Football and The Last Word, Gray was bringing tactical analysis to the masses (or, at least, those with a satellite dish). Indeed, when Ron Atkinson famously lost his temper and spoke dismissively of all the “silly machines” after his Coventry side lost 1-0 to Southampton in 1996, he was referring to Sky Sports’ Monday Night Football coverage, anchored by you know who.
In short, before there could be a Gary Neville and Jamie Carragher, there had to be a Keys and Gray.