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Matty Hayward

@MattyHayward96

GARY JOHNSON OUT

When was the last time a Torquay United manager left on good terms?

I started writing this article in September 2022, almost 18 months ago to the day in fact. I was sitting in a pub in Wrexham – I want to say it was the Welch Fusiliers but the numerous unglamorous but welcoming waterholes of North Wales tend to meld into one after a while – and I was nursing a memorably cheap Guinness. It struck me, at about 1pm, that after the inevitable thumping by the league leaders, Gary Johnson could be facing the chop. It was a poignant moment: a manager who had given so much, but clearly had nothing left to give. A manager who had delivered such heights, but was wallowing at an almost all-time low for himself and the club.

I asked my dad – who, as is traditional in father-son relationships, is much older than me – whether he could trawl through his encyclopedic (as long as it happened in a year that starts with a 1) knowledge of the club and recall a Torquay manager ever leaving at anywhere near his peak. We got side-tracked (read: I switched off) somewhere along the line, but the broad conclusion was that it probably hasn’t happened in his lifetime, and definitely hasn’t in mine.

In his brilliant piece this week – a piece that, combined with the increased pressure from protestors, has undoubtedly been a hefty straw on Clarke Osborne’s camel’s back – Daniel Storey used a line that adequately summarised why he’s a professional football writer and none of us are: “Was this the nadir, or is rock bottom merely a moveable feast when your club can’t stop falling?” That battering in North Wales should’ve been the all-time low from which he took his leave. In hindsight, perhaps Ashton Gate would’ve been more appropriate. Or the defeat to Havant in the cup. In any of those cases, he could’ve left with his head held high. Perhaps even earned himself a statue. He’d done the initial job of getting us out of regional football, he’d come so close to going a step further, and he’d given us some great fun along the way. He could’ve accepted defeat.   

But that isn’t his way; it never has been. Whether it was because of finances, hubris, or good old-fashioned pride, we couldn’t get our Johnson out! Instead of falling on his sword, he dug his heels in, and tarnished his reputation as a result. The man who brought us Woking (a), Jamie Reid’s prolificity, Lymington, the 5-0 win at Hartlepool, and turning Notts County over at home twice in a year will primarily be remembered for defeats to Aveley, Hemel Hempstead, Truro City, Maidstone twice in a week, Slough Town, and Chippenham. He’ll be remembered as the man who arrived at a mid-table Conference South club, and left a mid-table Conference South club, whose progress was as exhilarating as his demise was tragic. It’s a terrible shame.

What’s worse, he’s tarnished his legacy as a character, too. It should be that he’s known as the fist-pumping, cheeky-chappy, who mis-sung the Reidy song on the Popside as part of the longest documentary you’ve ever watched, and brought the good times back to Plainmoor after the woeful Owers era. But, no. Perhaps he had every right to give a mouthful back to fans who had called for his sacking, but that sort of behaviour is never becoming of a manager with a future at a club. Rather, it was the conduct of a man whose ego was too great for him to accept that he’d failed, whose hubris ran while reality staggered behind, pleading to be noticed, waving banners of dissent.

He preferred to pick a fight he’d never win with fans whose gate receipts paid his wages than admit that he might’ve lost his magic touch again, like he did at Yeovil and Cheltenham, like almost every single manager does after a time. We’ll remember him saying “it’s my club as much as it is theirs” more than we’ll remember the “Good Frog, Bad Frog”. By the end, the toxic atmosphere around the club was more his doing than anyone else’s. He may not have started the fire, but he sure as hell didn’t stop it burning.

Even worse, he’ll be known as one of Osborne’s men. A man appointed, backed and handsomely paid by Osborne. A man who – on many occasions – went out of his way to express gratitude for Osborne, to give character references for Osborne on camera, to speak highly and optimistically about the future of the club under Osborne’s guidance. A man who left hours after Osborne did, when Osborne’s money tap was switched off, as fast as his size 4s would carry him. (Small caveat, in the interests of fairness. We’ve no idea what the financial situation would’ve been for Johnson, here.

Some will argue that he should have stayed regardless, helping the club get out of this mess. I’m not sure I’m in a position to tell someone to carry on working at a vastly reduced rate to do a job that has become wildly more difficult in the last 72 hours. Nonetheless, memories aren’t often written with such nuance, and the fact is he will be known as the man who followed in Osborne’s footsteps while they were still fresh.

If Osborne is remembered as a villain, Johnson and George Edwards are his evil sidekicks. All three of them, deserting the sinking – or sunken – ship. All three of them, architects of a catastrophic failure of leadership, leaving on the worst possible terms.

COYY – MATTY

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